For Those Who Fight Further

Glow: What has been has gone.
Glow: What was has passed.
Glow: What more do you wish for?
Glow: What do you fight for?


For everyone...


Glow: Conceited.
Glow: Liar.
Glow: You fight for yourself.

....
No.
That is not true.


Glow: Prove it.

Wonderwall

When I was young(er), I was an idiot. I thought I was smart cos I knew lots of people who were not so smart. But I still felt inferior in other ways; physically, tactical smarts, street smarts... etc. So I realised I wasn't so smart, and that I was being an even bigger idiot by thinking I was smart.

When I was young(er), I was always scared to do things. I always believed that the "big people" would know how to handle things. As I continued rowing the boat down this river of fate, I realised not all "big people" know how to handle things. Some "big people" were just big. Inside, they were still "small people". So I thought I was smarter, since I could see that. Then I realised I would probably end up like that one day. So I hated growing up.

When I grew old(er), I started to see more and more things that I was unhappy with. For example: Why was gravity so tenacious as to keep us grounded all the time? Why are politicians (who make policies which decide how our lives are run) people who were mostly made up of the people like the idiots I knew growing up, who are much dumber than I am? Then I realised making policies and big big decisions are not easy, and I was not sure myself I could do such things.

A lot of things have changed.

As I live everyday now, I try to keep my mind as open as possible. I tend to be too judgmental, but I try to keep it as being 'too analytical'. I tend to be pessimistic, but I try to keep it realistic; and realism is that while bad things may happen, good things may happen too. I tend to be too critical and blame others; I try to shut up and fix myself first.

Sometimes I feel I would never survive in this world, if it were not for other people protecting me.

Do other people protect these protectors of mine too?

Am I protecting other people without realising it?

I like to think we all rely on each other. But if we take away one support, can it be replaced? Maybe not. Cos we are humans. We have feelings. We are just idiots played for fools by our emotions, hormones, neurotransmitters, memory, prejudice, habits, preconceptions, fears.

So never forget a friend you've made. You may forget the name, the face, the place. I dunno about you, but I still remember a lot of people whose paths in this timeless river crossed with mine. Is it enough to remember? Maybe how we remember them is important too.

~~~

Ballad of Truth

The dust-covered child gazes at the dawning sun.

The desert wind calls.

Broken dreams chain him.

The oracle promises the way.

Faith leads the faithful.

At the precipice. Decision.


S E E K T H E T R U T H


The key is within himself.

The oracle smiles knowingly.

The child looks forward.

The chains are cast off.

The day beckons.

Night comes again.

But he decides his own fate now.

Lagrima

Songs tell stories. Music tells stories. Without words. That's what I think.

Rather. Music conveys emotions. Things that cannot be described. Discrete notions of a particular emotion described using words like 'Love', or 'Anger', or 'Passion' - can't beat the directness of music.

Here's a story I came across on Youtube while listening to FF music by Nobuo Uematsu. A story about a musician. Composer and guitarist Francisco Tarrega.

He was a Spanish guitarist who lived from 1852 to 1909. He became famous for his playing and started traveling to other areas of Spain and also outside Spain to perform.

At one time, he performed in London, but apparently he didn't like it very much there. People noticed that he always appeared sad after his performances. The story goes that he missed his home, and he went on to capture that in this piece, Lagrima (spanish ~ tears).

I remembered that name. Thanks to a friend who introduced me to him. I don't know how to play the guitar, and it's times like these I go thinking 'why didn't I learn the guitar?'

For now I shan't bore people with the Final Fantasy part of it. Suffice to say, Nobuo Uematsu is very likely to have been inspired by this piece of music when composing his own piece, "On The Other Side of The Mountain". It seems very likely; played back to back, the two pieces meld very nicely.

To me, it seems like Other Side is an extension of the original... can I call it masterpiece? My friend says it's boring. True, it's not very technical, but umm... I think sometimes what makes a masterpiece is not how much skill was involved. Sometimes you behold a piece of work, and it moves you. Something connects with you. It's hard to put into words, because it can't. Words fail you. Then, even if only to you and you alone; then, that piece of work is a masterpiece.

You're Not Alone

Today, I jogged around my uni again... but under 40 minutes. So happy. It could be due to the happy hormones runners like to talk about, or it could be because this time I did it faster, and I did not get SOB or palpitations...

Granted I still had to slow down to walk, my running wasn't very good, and the uphill parts still kill me, but I am still happy... I think I improved overall. Still a long way to go...

I am still quite unfit. I still feel like I don't really fit in. Still kekok. I sometimes still dwell on the past. But now, I will try harder to move forward, even if I don't really see what's in front. At least now I don't feel like there is an impenetrable choking mist.

Thank you to my friend who cheered me on and gave me so much support. I give up too easily, but you showed me perseverance. In my face. :P

I will continue to try til I do my best. I know I am not alone. I just always felt alone. May that be a past memory from now on.

The Emperor's New Clothes (v???.??)

Once upon a time, there was a very vain king. He liked to show off a lot. One of his favourite ways of showing off was to buy expensive and fashionable clothes, such as Applecrumbles&Stitch, Pravda, Jordano, MSG, Allele et all, etc...

He was not one given to thrift; every year, he had a parade on his birthday. This one year, he wanted it to be a bit special. He posted advertisements for up and coming fashion designers to come up with a new birthday suit for him to wear during the parade. In the end, he was very impressed by the promises of a great design by a pair of promising youngsters from Shush Kitties. In truth, there were very good designs that had already been presented to him by designers from as far as Central Antarctic Ocean and Papaya Republic, but since they were foreign and of dubious intent, he rejected. In addition, Shush Kitties came with high recommendations from many of his ministers, and he personally knew one of the young fellows, who was a cousin twice removed from his uncle's wife's cousin's side.

Finally, the day came for the grand parade. The King had paid $%$29190478294.28 for this grand affair, and he appeared before the great crowd on national Utube, riding atop his grand steed, in his newly completed attire.

Unsurprisingly, he was very happy and proud.

Celebrations were always very big in his country, and even more so when the subject of celebration was the king himself. It was no understatement to say that he outdid himself this year. The streets were specially paved with gold. Countless lights were put up on the trees (some of which started to catch fire). To show the colourful lights off in broad daylight would have been impossible, so the king cleverly had a large dark blanket drawn over the whole city, which was actually a Fluid Screen, which showed past images of himself, such as one where he first learned how to ride a bike at age 3.

Unprecedented.

It was a big success. The crowd cheered wildly. Then a little boy hacked onto the national Utube and laughed, "THE KING IS NAKED!"

Soon the cheers changed into raucous laughter. The king became very angry. He quickly retired, and no one is sure what happened after that, and even I am not sure, but they say in Papaya Republic that the crowd was dispersed amicably with mild showers of water and the fogging machines (no one knows where they came from) started to malfunction, filling the streets with a choking mist.

An emergency was declared, and it was determined that there was a threat to national security. The next few months, the land was in chaos. The National Audit found strange inconsistencies in the parade's money matters. A video appeared where the Royal Fashioner was caught mumbling to a behind a curtain the word "Exacta". And the little boy was never seen again.

Until this day, whenev------

~~~

Soul: Whenev--- what??? Finish the story, my friend. Pray do not leave me hanging.

Dark: I finished it. All the books end in that manner. The author never finished it.

Soul: Hmmm??? So what is the point of that story?

Dark: You are looking for a moral in that story? My dear friend, did you not just ask me to tell you a joke? I merely did just that. But if you insist... If there is a moral in that story somewhere, it would probably be...

~~~

The Price of Freedom

Soul: And what is the price of freedom? What should be sacrificed in order to gain and keep it? What do you think is a fair exchange for freedom? Is it not freedom that these people now have? That they can ask us for more freedom? Are they not being too demanding? Nothing is free, at least in this world. For this freedom they have a price to pay, do they not?

Dark: I sense a hint of mischief in your words. You ask that as though you are insulted. Yet, you do know the answers already to the questions you ask, do you not, my friend? However, let me play along to your game. Before I can answer your many questions, I believe a definition of freedom would serve us well. Perhaps you would care to start by answering this little question of mine first? Then perhaps we can decide whether there is already enough freedom amongst these demanding people.

Soul: To define freedom? Let me first start by saying that there is never 'enough freedom'.

Dark: What do you mean? But let us not get ahead of ourselves. Can you give me a good definition of 'freedom'? I am sorry, but I will not let this pass until it is done.

Soul: I suppose it is only fair, since I asked so much of you, that I answer this one question of yours. I shall do my best. Listen, and tell me if I am wrong, when I say that Freedom is ----

~~~

So what is freedom? Shoot away.

(I am a bit giddy after having to read philo text.... -_-)