"She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something."
We live in the post-modern era. A time where art is stripped of all standard definition, for interpretation is relative, subject to the consumers. And so we do. We define art. Or do we?
Every human being, mind and body, is a unique work of art. Art was never meant for standardization --but how often have we attempted to categorize them into our "panoptic divisions" --That's some lawyer stuff right there. Ooh, doctor material. Nah, probably a cleaner at a food center. Exaggerating common pieces of work and so often disparaging the elegant pieces of fine art, thinking we have it all. Such ignorance. I don't quite know what to think, whether it is more tragic for the subjects of discussion or the subject debaters, in their lamentably narrow scope of minds.
Why do try so hard to fit in? Perhaps we were never meant to. It is a lovely thing to be born different. Why do we allow ourselves to think otherwise? For in so doing we casually dispose of true art and prize instead the garish pieces that can be found just about anywhere. The original pieces of unique art are then sculpted by society into mere imitations --a rueful fraction of the beauty they once were -- or lay hidden, never to be discovered.
We fail to appreciate art, or just about anything. The birth of a newborn infant is always seen as a lovely thing. A miracle, a new life, a magical creation of raw art. Does it then ever occur to us that every human being we perceive was once that frail infant? Why have we now lost that element of wonder, even as we see the living wonders that surround us?
We don't define art. We destroy it.
Friday, 14 February 2014
So here we are again...the day of gifts and love letters, dinner dates and overpriced flowers. The day of love.
I never got why singles made such a big deal over valentines. Or the couples, for that matter. Singles are "alone" every single day of the year anyway, so the entire fuss is really quite redundant and completely unnecessary. And for the couples, well, i get it. Having a special day is fun... but i'd really rather every day be like valentines instead of blowing up a singular event like that. It can get rather pretentious...and besides, consistency is key! Of course, that's just my personal preference (if i was attached in the first place) so i suppose you just wasted a good three minutes or so of your life reading all that for essentially nothing. Heh #sorrynotsorry
Valentines day this year was surprisingly good. Didn't do anything special but i worked on re-painting my room. Going for a cleaner look since previously it looked like it belonged to a nine year old. But i'm telling you, i've never appreciated painting services so much before. Attempting to paint my room (well actually just one wall) was craaaazy. YOUR. ARMS. WILL. LEGIT. BREAK. I can barely feel my arms now ): Will probably upload room pics when i'm done decorating the wall!
I was walking along Orchard Road earlier after getting some stuff and it was really kind of weird when i saw all the couples with their balloons and flowers because it actually felt...nice. Very nice. Surprisingly nice. Their bright smiles gave off this warm glow and i realized i've never seen so many Singaporeans looking so happy before. Everyone everywhere was smiling (a significant contrast from the usual stoned/stressed faces i'm accustomed to) and it just felt really amazing (': Maybe one day that'd be me, smiling shyly as i breathe in the sweet scent of a bouquet. Today though, i love myself. (Spent far more than necessary and my purse is feeling the burn. Oops). Single or attached, just be happy guys...you deserve to be (:
Happy Valentines. xoxo
Monday, 10 February 2014
I hate being human.
And i've never hated it as much as i do now, never felt so human. Susceptible. Weak. I loathe it. I once thought this fragility captivating. But i don't, not now.
Nobody understands. Don't be sad, they say. I am not at all sad when i type this...I am scared. Scared that one day i'll completely lose touch with my humanity because i am afraid of not being in control. Scared that one day i might become an emotionless robot, because it's too tiring to love, too tiring to hate. Indifference. Perhaps then i wouldn't feel any pain, because the only kind of pain that can truly hurt is pain that is inflicted on an emotional level. And that's why the idea of indifference is so appealing --not because of what i see in it, but because of what it helps me not to see. Being void of any emotion whatsoever. Can one attain such a state? I suppose it doesn't matter, because that's not what i really want anyway.
I fear being alone. I fear being around people. What exactly do i want? Sometimes i think i shall never know. I should believe in people, hold some hope for the good of mankind. But i can't. I can't bring myself to, not when the people who were supposed to love me the most hurt me instead, intentionally or otherwise, so much that sometimes i am convinced i shall never recover. Even as my fingers run lightly across this keyboard my mind is in a mess, my heart racing as i attempt to pen down in this incoherence the emotions that i'm feeling this very moment. Because what if one day i never feel again? "You're so complicated," people tell me, and laugh. Except there isn't anything the least bit humorous.
As i hear the multitude of voices in the background and in my head it takes everything in me not to yell my lungs out. To maintain poise and composure, taking in every biting word as it slices through my heart. "Why do you hurt me so?" is what i think, again and again. But outside, i smile. I think the saddest kind of sad isn't the type where you bawl your eyes out, or the ones where fresh tears stream down your cheeks. The saddest kind of sad is the kind that tries to be happy. The kind that is found in a smile, even when ones eyes are dark, downcast. The kind that i see in the mirror every other day.
There are some days when i think that things might be okay, that i have the strength to survive after all. Some days i can actually see the good things in life, some days i have a genuine smile because of the people God has put in my life, people who actually make me feel loved. Some days, i actually feel okay... happy, even. Not today. Today i feel human. And all i want to do is run away, as far as possible from this mess that i have to call my life.