Archive for December, 2010

Resolutions: The Progeny of Disappointment.

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The spirit of New Years is there. I see it in their little shiny eyes. I see those little kids playing hopscotch, falling down, and giggling about it. I feel their enormous happiness emerging from such a simple jumping game. I hope they never grow like I did. I hope they never see reality the way I do. I hope they never sit at the side of the window, just like I am today, and wish to feel as liberated as they are.

Resolutions are the progeny of disappointment. With twenty ten finally coming to an end, most people’s resolutions are not to make one. Ironic, isn’t it? We plan not to plan for things. We fear that if yet another 365 days comes to an end, and our feet have not yet moved that one step we wanted to make 365 days before – of failure.

However, failing is not we fear. Failing is prominent and bound to happen. We fear the feeling of self disappointment. We fear of the Non-accomplishments. Somewhere deep inside, we know that one day we will fail ourselves, and not meet up to our expectations. With no resolutions this year, we chose not to fail ourselves directly. We chose to step back, sit down, and watch as other’s dream come true – pretending we do not want to feel the way they do. We chose to lie to ourselves.

I fear of the unknown. I have this crave to know it, yet not to experience it. I have had zero resolutions along the years because I never completely lived an entire year. Years for me are when I go through a complete set of emotions. Years for me are when I go through a 180 degrees transformation. For the past years I have been going through a 360 degree transformation. Starting, changing, and then going back to square one. It’s worse than not changing. Moving forward and then being pushed backwards is the worst thing anyone could ever experience.

What does it matter that one year has passed?

What is the difference between today and tomorrow?

Do we really care that the number on the side of our notebooks, e-mails, and under our tweets has changed from 2010 to 2011?

Do we fancy numbers that much?

What makes years changing so special, when it is only time passing, nonetheless. The ticks of the clock will continue to tick, and time will continue to increase. I want to feel that New Year’s spirit, I do. I want to wake up tomorrow and feel refreshed. I want to have resolutions, and be able to complete them. I want to make myself proud for a change. I want to accomplish my goals.

I want to look back at 2010 and feel like I have accomplished something worthwhile. No matter how big my accomplishments were, I still have a long way to go. Every year we force ourselves to do things, to change, and to be that perfect person we always dreamed to be. Why can’t we just let it be? Why can’t we understand that change happens whenever it pleases? If it is one thing that I have learned in 2010: change is not a choice. It happens whether we welcome it or not. Accepting it or not accepting is the choice we get to make.

Even without resolutions, I know that along the year I will want to do things, and set a time to complete them. What is the point of resolutions then? It is just a fancy name given to a not so fancy thing to do, on a fancy date. Resolutions are decisions we take, actions we try to make, and dreams we want to accomplish. Resolutions are not year-related. They do not have to be made at the beginning of each year. When did we start to relate the non-relatable?

Why does every year have to end with disappointments, and another starts with hopes? Why should there be any sequel of emotions, whatsoever?

My hopes for the upcoming 365 days are those of every single one of us. I hope for a bed to sleep on, enough food to live through the day, and a roof to shelter me from the weather. I hope for clean water to drink. I hope for an emotionless year. I hope for brighter days. I hope for a better change. I hope wars come to an end. I hope astronomy isn’t so hard next semester. I hope I do not fail myself.

I hope that more people start believing in global warming. I hope the economy rises. I hope that tax free countries, remain tax free. I hope twitter remains a free social networking site. I hope that facebook vanishes off the face of the earth. I hope that people stop relating resolutions to years, and years to dates. And most importantly, I hope that people would stop waiting for consecutive dates to get married – I wish from the bottom of my heart, that people would stop making such important decisions of their lives based on numbers.

Have a blessed 365 days.


I always ran behind my father as he left to work, and cried if he took off without kissing me. I used to sit on the side of the garage, waiting for him to give me my kiss. My mother would sometimes call him to turn the car around, because she could not stand her baby crying. 

I used to sit on the stairs of our porch waiting for her to come back from work. If she was ever just a few minutes late, I would start crying and shouting her name out. But when my ears hear her footstep coming towards me, my eyes instantly dry out and I run to her. She would open her arms; embracing me, lifting me up, and twirling me around.

My father used to always ask me for a glass of water “3ala Zo2y” (Meaning, with my little touch) Oh, how I waited for him to ask me for that glass of water – every single day. I would struggle while cutting the lemon and trying to place it on the cup without it squirting any juice out. I had my own set of straws, and every day I would take out a certain color. Saturdays were always red. Sundays were always orange. Mondays were always yellow. Tuesdays were always blue. Wednesdays were always white. Thursdays were always purple. Fridays were always green.

I remember those days down to the slightest details. I always had the love towards exploring in the kitchen. The maids were almost always mean to me. Once, I placed a plastic bowl on the stove and started mixing every single liquid I could think of. Memory serves me well; I remember adding milk, water, fairy (Dishwashing Soap), coke, and juice. 

The plastic container started melting as soon as the stove lit up. I did not panic. I said to myself “Try the wooden container next time”. That day was the very same day I discovered socks; the long ones that reach as long as the knees. 

Looking back, I am still the same person – but everything changed. I no longer run after my father for a kiss goodbye, or hug my mom whenever I come back home. I lost my passion towards exploring things, and I do not remember the last time I found socks that intriguing. 

Twenty ten has been the year for me. I now know what the term year stands for. A year is not 12 months. A year is not 48 weeks. A year is not 365 days. A year is not 8760 hours. A year is when we experience all emotions. A year is when we go through a dozen happy moments, and dozen sad moments. A year is not a year if we did not feel the agony of living, the sourness of hope, and the pain of loving. A year is not a year if we did not love, hope, and trust. 

A year is a cycle of emotions, not days. I cannot believe that a whole year has passed yet once again. I cannot gasp the meaning of twenty ten coming to an end. It has been both the best year (yet) then the worst year (yet). And I fear of yet, because it always seems to become worse, not better. 

Every year we think that this time around, it will be better. When will we stop lying to ourselves? When will we accept the reality that it will never get better? When will we understand that years are a series of non-happenings? 

We fall between the elapses of time, and we hope. That is what we do. We want to believe that good things happen to good people, but when we look around – all that is good does not happen to the good. However, who are we to decide who is good and who is not? 

It saddens me how the days just roll by, and all we do is look forward to the future and want it, or look back at the past and miss it. 

Have you ever thought about it?

Have you ever thought that today marks a day you were once looking forward to? 

Today was yesterday’s future. My hopes for a day like today were of rainbows, pots of gold, and rabbits. What is today? Today is a dark corner in an abandon alley, dirty, and stripped off the sugar coated dreams I once had.

Expectations have always had a way of letting me down. No matter how low my expectations are, they always seem too high for my reach. I wonder – is it really only me who feels that? Could I be the only person who feels that way?

Pain is bound to happen. Suffering is a choice.

What am I in pain from? Time.

Why time? Because time let me down.

Not people? No. Time.

Why time? Because time hurts.

How? By passing by.

How does it pass by? Selectively.

Why does that hurt? Because it only passes quickly when it pleases.

When will it stop hurting? I do not know.

My father always had a nickname for me. I never understood what it meant, when I asked him once – he said “It means petite”. And when I asked him what Petite means, he said “My angel”.

He stopped calling me that.

And I never asked who his angel was.

Life: A Paradox of Thoughts.

We all question. Whether it is ourselves or others, we never stop questioning. I find myself clashed between questions and answers. Not knowing where to go, or which way this road might take me. I walk aimlessly, in hopes of finding the right companion along the road.
That is the Definition of life, isn’t it?
Along this road, we call life – We might tumble with imbalance, we might fall from the drastic wind pulling us down, we might crawl in fears of standing up again, we might stop at many points and question ourselves: where are we headed, and why.
But never do we reach the very end of it by our own choice, unless some of us wish to dig a hole right where they are standing, and burry themselves there. We take a lot of steps back, much more than we move forward, but we can never give up.
Trying to figure everything out; all at once, has been quite hard on me. I have learned a lot, but not what I wanted to learn. I have generated a bunch of extra questions; ones I never asked before, and added them to the list of unanswered questions I already have in mind.

That is the way of life, isn’t it?
The art of living is not questioning. We all do that, remember? It is knowing what to ask, who to ask, and when to ask. Those three golden questions are the basic and root of all questions. Larry Kersten Said: “Cluelessness – There are no stupid questions, but there are a lot of inquisitive idiots.”- Unless Kersten was implying that the term ‘idiots’ is a synonym for ‘mankind’ then I will have to disagree. We all think. We all question. We all wonder.
That is the price of life, isn’t it?
Memory lane takes me back to kindergarten, where one of the very first nursery rhyme I was taught was ‘Twinkle Little Star’
This is exactly how I was taught to sing it: Memories run through my head as I see her twinkling her hands, remembering Mrs.S [My kindergarten teacher].

And so, we were taught to wonder since the diaper ages of our time – But why? Why choose this certain poem, by Jane Taylor? Why teach us to ‘twinkle’ our hands and “sprinkle some magic dust with our fingers”? If you try to closely think about those nursery days of, you will realize that all they did was; teach us how to wonder, ask, and potty train us. I always loved those stars stickers the teacher put on my forehead, and had that jealous spark lit up inside me once she gave it to another student.
Some may argue that thoughts are not valid if not scientific. Now I know you are probably wondering, who said that? The next thought that popped in your head was: where did the writer of this post get that piece of information from?
That is the beauty of life, isn’t it?
What is this post about?
What am I trying to say?
I said what I wanted to say. I laid my baffling thoughts out, and feel a bit lightheaded. But I still do not have my questions answered. If it is one thing I learned after this post is, now I have more questions in my head than I first started (Which was 10 minutes ago) – but how long will it take me to answer them? And how many nights will I stay up thinking about them?
If the definition of life is the road we walk, the way of life is questioning, and the price of it is idiocy, while the beauty of it is our brain – Then, what is life?