Confessions of a Drama Queen

Use your emotions wisely.

Utilize your emotions with a little bit of wisdom; that definitely would not hurt, would it.

No, no, I am not a superstar… at least not yet.  That I profess.  It is still a long road to travel.

As much as I am, I am not.  It is a matter of self-control, not entirely suppression.  It is a matter of selective demonstration.  In other words, mindfulness.

Being aware of what the self is up to – it really could be just about anything.  An enormous wave of silence is extremely helpful  in such periods of self-discovery.  Oh well, since I mentioned self-discovery, I view life as one endless Self-Discovery Channel, which one could switch back and forth to refresh the mind and hopefully gain some form of experience from it.

I know I laugh a little too much – a bit awkward – but that was only my release, you know.

I know I kind of cry too, at times; that was another way for me to release.  Just in case you have not noticed, but of course you have not.

Whatever I have done, it is only human that I did so.  It has been a hell lot of fun watching each chapter unfold on its own.  However, all of nature allows that even the strongest mind – and heart – will face a load of bricks hurling straight at his thoughts and smashing them and shattering them to a thousand pieces.  And all the poor soul must do, of course, is break down and pour out seemingly endless streams of tears from the corners of the eyelids.

Nature permits release of emotions in subtle ways; why else would there be several facial muscles, twitching all together at once, to put up that sweet smile on that pretty face, and thence light up the world around.

There also is Anger, and Pain, and Hurt, and Jealousy – but the mind shall choose as it pleases what it wishes to display.

Just a part of life.

Red Scarlet

 

Living a Goal-directed Life

George Bernard Shaw once claimed that he wanted to die all used up.  Do you notice there is a lot of goal-directed meaning in it.

Life with purpose is much more meaningful, much more satisfying to the individual.  Ah, the music I am listening to is quite distracting.  My thoughts are drowning themselves in the whirlpool of words and music.  But well, I might continue writing.

It is the fact that, if you do the necessary math, with all the petty calculations, you realize that there is not much time to be used.  Taking time into consideration, resources pop up in the picture.

Dying used up – when all of yourself has been invested in worthwhile matters.  This not only includes successes, but also failures.  The satisfaction that comes with knowing that you have at least attempted to do something; there is nothing more fulfilling than that.  Trust me.

For doing so brings wisdom, the know-how of paths which to take up along the way.  It puts your life to place, setting your focus on one direction: toward the way of success.

Everyone wants to achieve some kind of pinnacle in their lives.  They want so much to climb the tallest mountain, to cross the deepest seas, and to jump over the highest hurdle… they sometimes forget about what the gear they need to bring along to keep themselves through.

Well, ready your own gear.

Red Scarlet

What Did The Fox Say?

I shall tell you what the Fox said.

I am sitting on a public commute on my way back from work.  Headphones plugged in both ears; I have been enjoying the music playlist in my Nokia Lumia for a big portion of my trip already.

This was what the godforsaken Fox told me.  (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

This was what the godforsaken Fox told me. (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

Music composes a huge part of my life – no, not quite the way you suppose though.  Stress drains itself away in music … my music.  I have learnt to shake it all as well.  Not completely; however I am at the very least doing all I can within my power.  Not that it is hard, there is just a lot to shake! Music, like sponge, lets the past slowly soak up.

As I jot these precious words on my notepad, my head is rocking in tune to the music.  As, it is just one of the methods I utilize to sort of keep my mind in good shape, for want of a better word.  Only one of the gazillion ways.

The mind, in order to set thoughts in ink, is in dire need to indulge itself in precious quiet time.  The thoughts – no, the words whispering along the wires of neurons in the mass of gray matter – probably make a smooth birth out of the canal of stillness.

Such conceptualization of ideas procreate a concrete framework as the words connect and mature.

Let the dear heart maketh peace for the beautiful mind that the whispering words may frolick about and find their way amongst one another.  Let the emotions, however far off or deep they may be, seep through the intricate web of neural connections.  Oh, and let love and madness define themselves!  The soul may wander in the dreams to lands covered in mists, but it shall, as it always has, return to its Abode to bring full Life to the very hand that spells not, word by word, ever so diligently.

I am about to arrive at my stop now.  One flip of the coin , and my expression switches to a sulky queen unflattered by nonsensical subjects.

Why not.

What Did The Fox Say is ringing straight in my ears.

I presume I have already answered that godforsaken question.

 

The Writer’s World

Are We the Dreamers, or the Dream Weavers?

Are We the Dreamers, or the Dream Weavers?

And as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen

Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name.

– William Shakespeare

They say that writers are trapped, locked up in their own worlds.  They say that artists are flying high in a different dimension, submerged in the incense of smoking opium and barbiturates.  Is that really so I dare not claim.

However, I shall not deny that there is much truth in it.  There is a characteristic of beauty in a mind left alone to wander about and linger on through the passages of conciousness.

One that is highly valued in a moment of solitude.  No, we are not smokers of weed and nicotine, puffing wisps of fantasies into the crisp air.  These are really periods of self-expression; of discovering oneself in a duty of such eloquence.  Times where thoughts – our thoughts – are heard, at least to an eager audience.  Times when we speak, hoping that the Outsiders take notice as we crawl out the Dream Tunnel, arms and legs outstretched like that of the spiders.

There shall be epochs where the world seems to crumble down in dusty ashes, only to arise from within a King so mighty.

We are the Dream Weavers, weaving ideas and connecting missing links together in hopes of patching up for a better world.  We are the Sowers of the Seed, silently praying that the flower that blossoms out shall be blessed with showers of love, joy, and happiness.

There goes.  Now what am I writing about?

Red Scarlet

PS: Anyway, it is about my birthday, it’s MY BIRTHDAY – so I got to spend my money. Taylor Swift needs to come up with a new hit titled Twenty-Three.  =)