My Old Soul.
Thy shall cherish life...
There's so many things to write. So many, that I don't know where to begin... so I'll just start it the way every other cheap tale does.
Once upon a time, a Scrubs-o-holic, a severe narcissist, a hopeless dreamer, and a fake perfectionist met in the park, and they decided to create a human being namely me. (Yeah, this is the self-hater-but-not-so-self-hater part --'cuz hell I'm still blabbing about myself... which is my favorite topic in this place!!-- , where I'd put a shield all over me, then start shooting myself with Rambo's gun from every direction possible. It's pretty much like a kamikaze pilot with helmet, really.)
No seriously, if there's anything that could describe my being best, that'd be those four. It's like a two way monologue. I mean, as fragile as I can be, it's unbelievable how I could still survive against my own hatred for myself. It's like you're strong and you're weak at the same time. You're happy and you're sad at the exact same moment. If you're wondering how that feels like... well, you're not lucky enough then. It's worth everything. I say, if you haven't experienced that, then you haven't really alive yet. But then again, who the hell am I to say?
At first, I was hugely dissapointed by the first flaw that came into my life. 'My life was perfect and happy before! And now that bloody stain came... and it ruined everything!' I screamed silently. But as I carried on with life, as I quietly opened up to 'different' people, to see things from their view, I began to get it. I looked back at my first wound (which still very hurt sometimes), then I looked at it's reflection in the mirror, and I went 'that's beautiful.' Then I saw myself carrying that wound on my skin, and I thought, 'My Goodness, I look dozen times better than who I was before I got that wound!'
It amazed me how I drastically changed. I guess that's what we call evolving. Or growing up. Or easily influenced. Well... whichever it was, I'm glad I am who I am today. Call me whatever you want--I don't really care anymore anyway--, but a child who knows better about death and could accept it in their own innocent way could make me fall in love better than those who are simply cute and cheerful. I just don't see it that way anymore.
They call it an old soul... hell, I'm proud of it. Like my music taste. I LOVE them classic jazz. The songs from 40s, 50s and 60s... I mean, you should've known why they call those music 'Golden songs'... 'cuz they are golden and timeless. (That, my friend, is the music). Like Ella Fitzgrald, Louis Armstrong, Sarah Vaughan, Etta James... I could scream in a happy agony here! These people are gifted in melody! I can't believe people can't see that. How shallow and pathetic. My family bad-mouthed my taste once, and I made them regret they've ever said what they said. (Brutality contains, mind you).
Take a look at them next big thing like Joss Stone, Jamie Cullum, and Renee Olstead. Then there's Stacey Kent, Jane Monheit, Michael Buble, Natalie Merchant, Diana Krall and Jane Horrock. All these talented vocalists, and people are still in love with Britney Spears??? *shook her head* Apocalypse is near.
I've been thinking about death lately. What a way to end a life, huh? You stared it all alone, you ended it all alone as well. Basically, your best friend and your worst enemy is you. You sleep with your worst enemy everyday without you realizing it. Like I said, it's like a two way monologue. (I love this idea. Like in the book Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Aziraphael the angel and Crowly the fallen angel a.k.a satan are two good friends. I really, really like that idea. There's an ultimate understanding there, and it's just fabulous). Then I asked myself, 'Now that you're not dead yet, what have you done for yourself so far?'
To my ultimate surprise, I couldn't answer it.
And snap! It was just like that, the artist in me all of a sudden-ly found her muse and get inspired highly. I want it so bad to write, I want it so bad to draw, I want it so bad to scream out loud and JUST LET GO! But I can't, and you know why. I haven't done much for myself, therefore I owe myself a lot, don't I? Thinking about death, you're going straight down to who you are, who you want to be and what do you want to do. To me, that's a restricted area, 'cuz I'm afraid the temptation will be too big. I don't have that much confindent on myself.
This week, I'm faced to a problem where I have to choose between my head and my heart. I have to choose between myself and my patient's being. At first, my ego shooted right into the air and it wouldn't come down, I forced the situation to follow what my head want. What I want. I don't care about my patient's being whatsoever. My poor patient is just too nice that he can't say no. But then my old soul asked, 'where is your heart?'
And by God, I've hidden it for years. Now... I dunno. But I'm glad the old soul took over the matter and let the heart win against the head. It's a weakness you say? I don't know. It might be a mistake, and we've been conditioned to not make mistake... but hell I can't live that way. People who risk nothing, has nothing, does nothing, is nothing. I don't want that. Concerning death, at least I've got to do something worthy with whatever it is I have in life, don't you agree? Ah well... the point is, it's actually good I faced the dilemma I mentioned above. It'd only make my soul a step older.
And trust me, there's no birthday gift better. ;)
Today is where my book begins. The rest is still unwritten.
There's so many things to write. So many, that I don't know where to begin... so I'll just start it the way every other cheap tale does.
Once upon a time, a Scrubs-o-holic, a severe narcissist, a hopeless dreamer, and a fake perfectionist met in the park, and they decided to create a human being namely me. (Yeah, this is the self-hater-but-not-so-self-hater part --'cuz hell I'm still blabbing about myself... which is my favorite topic in this place!!-- , where I'd put a shield all over me, then start shooting myself with Rambo's gun from every direction possible. It's pretty much like a kamikaze pilot with helmet, really.)
No seriously, if there's anything that could describe my being best, that'd be those four. It's like a two way monologue. I mean, as fragile as I can be, it's unbelievable how I could still survive against my own hatred for myself. It's like you're strong and you're weak at the same time. You're happy and you're sad at the exact same moment. If you're wondering how that feels like... well, you're not lucky enough then. It's worth everything. I say, if you haven't experienced that, then you haven't really alive yet. But then again, who the hell am I to say?
At first, I was hugely dissapointed by the first flaw that came into my life. 'My life was perfect and happy before! And now that bloody stain came... and it ruined everything!' I screamed silently. But as I carried on with life, as I quietly opened up to 'different' people, to see things from their view, I began to get it. I looked back at my first wound (which still very hurt sometimes), then I looked at it's reflection in the mirror, and I went 'that's beautiful.' Then I saw myself carrying that wound on my skin, and I thought, 'My Goodness, I look dozen times better than who I was before I got that wound!'
It amazed me how I drastically changed. I guess that's what we call evolving. Or growing up. Or easily influenced. Well... whichever it was, I'm glad I am who I am today. Call me whatever you want--I don't really care anymore anyway--, but a child who knows better about death and could accept it in their own innocent way could make me fall in love better than those who are simply cute and cheerful. I just don't see it that way anymore.
They call it an old soul... hell, I'm proud of it. Like my music taste. I LOVE them classic jazz. The songs from 40s, 50s and 60s... I mean, you should've known why they call those music 'Golden songs'... 'cuz they are golden and timeless. (That, my friend, is the music). Like Ella Fitzgrald, Louis Armstrong, Sarah Vaughan, Etta James... I could scream in a happy agony here! These people are gifted in melody! I can't believe people can't see that. How shallow and pathetic. My family bad-mouthed my taste once, and I made them regret they've ever said what they said. (Brutality contains, mind you).
Take a look at them next big thing like Joss Stone, Jamie Cullum, and Renee Olstead. Then there's Stacey Kent, Jane Monheit, Michael Buble, Natalie Merchant, Diana Krall and Jane Horrock. All these talented vocalists, and people are still in love with Britney Spears??? *shook her head* Apocalypse is near.
I've been thinking about death lately. What a way to end a life, huh? You stared it all alone, you ended it all alone as well. Basically, your best friend and your worst enemy is you. You sleep with your worst enemy everyday without you realizing it. Like I said, it's like a two way monologue. (I love this idea. Like in the book Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Aziraphael the angel and Crowly the fallen angel a.k.a satan are two good friends. I really, really like that idea. There's an ultimate understanding there, and it's just fabulous). Then I asked myself, 'Now that you're not dead yet, what have you done for yourself so far?'
To my ultimate surprise, I couldn't answer it.
And snap! It was just like that, the artist in me all of a sudden-ly found her muse and get inspired highly. I want it so bad to write, I want it so bad to draw, I want it so bad to scream out loud and JUST LET GO! But I can't, and you know why. I haven't done much for myself, therefore I owe myself a lot, don't I? Thinking about death, you're going straight down to who you are, who you want to be and what do you want to do. To me, that's a restricted area, 'cuz I'm afraid the temptation will be too big. I don't have that much confindent on myself.
This week, I'm faced to a problem where I have to choose between my head and my heart. I have to choose between myself and my patient's being. At first, my ego shooted right into the air and it wouldn't come down, I forced the situation to follow what my head want. What I want. I don't care about my patient's being whatsoever. My poor patient is just too nice that he can't say no. But then my old soul asked, 'where is your heart?'
And by God, I've hidden it for years. Now... I dunno. But I'm glad the old soul took over the matter and let the heart win against the head. It's a weakness you say? I don't know. It might be a mistake, and we've been conditioned to not make mistake... but hell I can't live that way. People who risk nothing, has nothing, does nothing, is nothing. I don't want that. Concerning death, at least I've got to do something worthy with whatever it is I have in life, don't you agree? Ah well... the point is, it's actually good I faced the dilemma I mentioned above. It'd only make my soul a step older.
And trust me, there's no birthday gift better. ;)
Today is where my book begins. The rest is still unwritten.
posted by Oryx at 10:30 PM
1 comments
