Ideas

I find events mildly interesting. People slightly more. What truly piques my interest is ideas. I will concede that ideas are man-made. But ideas are what inspire man to great things. Unlike events and people, they do not require verity to exist. They could be nothing but a whole construct of prevarications yet have the same causal magnitude.

Gosh I'm getting more messed up by the day. Save me someone.

A lighter note

I have been home for a tad over a week now. It is funny how during the entirety of my first year in Canada I never experienced homesickness even one bit yet in the brevity I have spent back home I am already being hit with pangs of Vancouver-sickness. Do I really love it there so much or am I just in love with the idea of me being on my own reinvented self? Well, I have managed to slake the sickness by setting up playdates with my friends and some.

It was certainly delightful to see them again yet at times I feel dwarfed by the distances they have covered while I was on my sojourn abroad. That was one of my biggest fears of returning home. That in spite of the locomotive effort I have put into being the best that I can be, my accomplishments pale in comparison. I am less happy. Sometimes I feel I could not be any farther from it. Or any closer. Stagnation. But I will squash such pessimistic contemplations and leave them for my personal introspection sessions later.

My tummy has bloated up at a rate unheard of. I cannot even see my penis while I am standing up anymore. True story. All this food-binging/gluttony if prolonged is not going to bode well for me fitness-wise. And truth be known, my hankering for local cuisine was never that strong when I got back. I figured that by reintroducing it to my palette I would fall back in love with it. I was wrong. Now I am left with a huge bulging belly and a yet insatiated gastronomic craving. It is thus high time to hit the weights again.

Admission

Here is an admission: My literary articulation peaks only when I am intoxicated. Preferably alcoholic but any substance that induces a high is enough to get the job done. In that sense, I have a reliance on vices. Ever since I got back I have not had a single energy drink and my alcohol ingestion has been too negligible to actually count for anything. I am trying to fixate on the silver lining for the time being. That desired scribal eloquence comes together with a pensive, sombre self and are both indented on the flip side of the sobriety coin. So in a way this involuntary abstinence has benefited me by aiding in the the suppression of the pathetic side of me. But with it goes the eloquence that I occasionally pride myself on. Also goes a prehensile state of mind and with it my philosophic genius is dragged along. A question then arises. Is my self-deprecation imperative for the tapping into my intellectually inclined talents?

Inspiration lacks when I am apathetic. My emotions are a double-edged sword. Those I label as inimical, also serve as the spark plug to most of my gripping endeavours. People say I need to get them sorted out, managed. I have recently learnt though that such emotions can never be totally neutralized. Just bottled up. Or funneled to other causes of a similar nature. Like incoherent gibberish for example. It is still not a perfect replacement of chances missed out on. And the only thing I can do is solemnly hope it will someday be.

P.S. I squeezed this out of me sober. I am discounting the couple of smokes I had hours earlier. It was a struggle indeed. Words and thoughts do indeed flow out smoother when I am high.

Self-sabotage

On a subconscious level, some of us self-sabotage. I think this is because if there is one thing more terrifying than failing is giving all one has, doing everything right, and still end up failing. And this fear is echoed by the more fortunate, those who did everything right and did not fail. Those who look upon the less fortunate with scrutinizing eyes assuming that the latter did not give their all. That the latter did not persist. And it saddens me to admit that such is the harsh reality of life.

Random

I have a bad habit. I usually start off with the intention of an update long overdue only to give up after ten words. I blame it on the fleeting train of thoughts which invade my mind every now and then. However, I will attempt to actually construct an entire blog post this time to occupy my boredom.

I will not talk much about my stay in Vancouver except that I am returning home real soon. My heart sinks as the thought of that. I love it here too much. Not only the sheer awesomeness of the city but the whole notion of being on my own. And somehow amidst all the chaos I feel that I can finally find happiness here. Enough with that.

Philosophy has been taking up most of my time since I moved out of residence for the summer. It has always been a love of mine. Why haven't I pursued it any sooner I don't know. I always believed by engaging in such an introspective exercise I would grow increasingly detached from the world. Mistaken I was indeed.