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It’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst, and then I remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it and it flows through me like rain and I can feel nothing but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid, little life. You have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m sure, but don’t worry. You will someday.”

Lester Burnham from American Beauty

Beauty is a frill though. I never thought I’d say this but Love Is All You Need.

Truly, no earth-shattering event took place, no one had just enveloped me in an embrace, and no, i did not just receive a romantic declaration that swept me off my feet–I simply saw this quote, i thought about it. And suddenly the air seems electrified, sending goose pimples rippling on my skin. Then i concluded–you could have the cushiest job, the trendiest clothes, but you could not be happier than someone who believes in love, lives it breathes it, and is so secure in its entirety, its beauty, its unabashed confidence.

It’s a drug and a cure, an amphetamine and a sedative, with the regularity of a waltz, the energy of a salsa, and the charm of both. Overwhelm me, please.

Medicine, law, business, engineering… these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love… these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, ‘O me! O life!…of the questions of these recurring, of the endless trains of the faithless…of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here…that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.’ That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.What will your verse be?

John Keating, Dead Poets Society

I may contribute a verse to this phenomenon of a powerful play. Yes I may. What will i say? What will i ask?

I’ll ask why. Why is it only when man is feeling clawed at from within, when he is so close to tears, when the wounds are so sensitive that the slightest breath would tear open the skin, that he can produce the finest pieces of writing? Is contentment, happiness, bliss not worth putting brush to paper?

Words, words, words. Once, I had the gift—I could make love out of words–as a potter makes cups out of clay—love that overthrows empires, love that binds two hearts together come hellfire and brimstone. I could cause a riot in a nunnery…but now…I have lost my gift. It’s as if my quill is broken. As if the organ of the imagination has dried up. As if the proud tower of my genius has collapsed. Nothing comes.

Will Shakespeare, Shakespeare in Love

Public Service Announcement

Jazzing up your blog is a very therapeutic process which leads to stopover webbies like Designiskinky.com.

This website, whose purpose im still clueless about, provides one with pages and pages of mugshots. You have very misleading catogories like ’sexy’ or ‘happy’, which i am about to give lie to. A search of ’sexy’ churned up the following picture:

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This is Guy Number 1

So i think, not bad, he can pass the test. But NO. scroll down and you see this hunk:

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’sexy’ is written all over his face, ennit? ;)

a secret recluse

just cannot place this. why why why. there seems to be no reason for me to feel so down and out, so in the smelliest of dumps, so drained of any calorie of energy. there is something indulging about such aggrandizing of one’s misery, dont you think. Heres the story proper:

i am, ostensibly, pleased with my job scope. free lunches at hotels, with people treating you like an empress, free books which you have the power to condemn or popularize, complimentary sessions at spas and yoga schools, everyone says this is ”the life”. Well, ive nothing to complain about. i should be delirious. guess i am.

but ive never liked putting on such a false front and i find myself guilty of this charge everyday. i could be seething, steaming, swearing, and yet when the potential interviewee finally rings me after his 23059813458th meeting of the day with “our distinguished foreign guests from Zkiuahert”, i have to sound all sweet. Nice. Pleasant. “No problem, Mr *$#$. :) I was just expecting your call. Would you have a moment to spare?” I dislike doing this. The story part is fine, i love the sound of fingernails clicking the keypad at frantic paces–it makes me feel more important than i really am. Maybe that is why secretaries always seem to be typing at frenzied paces. They could really be on Blogger whining about how their cat is having a flu, but they would still be clicking away, typing furiously at their frenzied paces.

so anyway, i am out of it because i want more. because i am a selfish, attention-whoring, materialistic, uncontented girl. ok. shall not condemn myself this way because every self-help book i’ve read tells me to love myself. it’s getting harder.

i probe deep and try to pinpoint any open wounds, any scars that seem to be hurting more than any rock-hard, closed-toe, heeled MARIE CLAIRE court shoe can hurt me. and i do a checklist. and yes i have reasons. albeit paranoid reasons. firstly, i beat myself up, no not literally, but i have irritating,condescending voices in my head, which sound suspiciously like a certain secondary sch teacher i had. maybe thats because she now epitomizes “nightmare” in my subconscious. but anyway, im feeling so antisocial nowadays.

i wonder if i am supposed to attend all the frills that come with the job. maybe drinking isnt my thing, but i should at least make an effort to hang out at the pubs just for some time? so why didnt i go? i just wanted a quiet night after work, to unwind, to not think about stories and editors and deadlines. always thought of myself as a go-getter. maybe theres a recluse in me.

theres always a next time. and then the cycle continues. but till then, i shall throw this to the wind. poof. go. away.

and then theres something else. i think my self-esteem has decided to go for a vacation. it has packed its bags, brought my energy along with it, and now i feel like hopeless, ugly, and altogether like a fraud. i sense a whine coming up. one that sounds like the gazillion others. so pep, shut up.