the circle and the line

i saw you bisect yourself
in a room full of squares
no one was there --
no one was ready
for your golden cache of laughter
or the wild chorus of your hair

回答少年

I was knocking on the room with no sound I was good at make a fuss In a city that made no sound I met the girl in green when I gave you bright shoes You had a happy face right? the color green is a weird color wasnt there a color that suits you more? I fell in love, im in love When mine and your hands overlapped I fell in love, im in love the sound of your hand and mine overlapping. I close my eyes after sighing with a finger that follows a letter "I'll probably forget by tomorrow"

---

maybe i've never really fought for anything

---

- what would you say is my biggest flaw - as in, what is one thing you would change about me
- ... do you really want to know?
- yeah
- you won't get mad?
- no dude, i promise i won't get mad. you can be honest with me
- well... for one you don't handle criticism very well
- fuck off

---

- but how can you force someone to grow up?
- have you heard of the phrase 'sink or swim' 

---

'what's it like to get sick? nobody can seem to explain it properly.'
'it's like having a pain inside your body. your joints ache, your head hurts. you feel weak and tired a lot. it gets hard to think clearly sometimes. you don't feel like doing much. you feel too hot one minute and too cold the next.'
'but how do you know you're sick'
'you know because you don't feel as good as you did before'
'but what if you've always been sick?'

---

you know prayer is more than just talking to yourself and adding 'lord' at the beginning, right

---

- you know what they say about failing to plan
- yeah well    fortunately for me, my plans always fail

---

- are you sad?
- i'm too busy to be sad

---

we get closer and closer to our true selves as we age. lose the facade, we become real. so real that we fade away from the dream. or perhaps enter another. what is purgatory anyway? we transcend the phantom realm, get to graduate from nightmares and false hopes. men start to look like women and women begin to look like men. age is the great equaliser. no room for pride anymore. how can you look down on a toddler when you can't control your own bowel movements. what happens when we reach the end of our great adventure? how does it all end? 'excuse me please,' she sat in her little chair by the bed and looked around having finished her breakfast. the time was 10.30am. winter rays streamed in through the sterile windows. the light shone brilliantly on her face. 'what do i do now,' she said softly, almost to herself. dazed and confused, she turned to look at the nurses. then back at me. 'what do i do now?'

h e r

her's was the sound of shattering glass
a sharp ringing
in your ears
the endless spinning
of a tiny dancer trapped
in her jukebox jail with
flattened tones, playing
a withered
rendition
of that red tune

she was the kink
in your straight line
the blank in your stance
she was the frantic
bend in each leafy corner
of a labyrinth set against
the setting sun

her's was the wounded
breathing of the tide
and the blood running
up and down your neck

she was the unwritten
book
the unscripted line
the word unsaid

- she by Lang Leav

a week without glasses

look to Him and be radiant

---

dear zoe, 

please don't apologise for how you feel. it's okay to feel sad. to feel overwhelmed. it's okay to be human. don't worry about what other folks might say. you don't owe them anything. you know, happiness is a rare thing, and you shouldn't feel obliged to supply it for anyone. happiness is not a privilege or an unalienable right, it's a blessing - and so are you. just ask any of the many people who truly love you. if you ask me, they're the only ones you should ever take advice from or listen to. so don't waste your time worrying about what other people think. it's okay to say what you feel, even if some people might not like it. who gives a damn what they think anyway? it's not easy being honest nowadays, but i think the alternative is much worse. thank you for being honest with us, and thank you for being you 

best wishes, 

me 

mea culpa

"the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist"

---

my self enhancement bias may be more severe and resistant than most

keep catching myself feeling unsettlingly superior. the only reason for an overwrought pantomime of humility is an infernal belief that one is better than one's peers.

---

Self-enhancement bias is a scary scary thing. Almost biological, almost viral in its persistence, its capability for self-preservation. That's a thing right, a meme being a virus of the mind. Ideas have their own life-cycle, independent of their hosts. They spread, cling to, take root in a person. Take over them. Propogate. Essentially, what I'm saying is, isn't it ironic - and terrifying - how being lulled into believing that you are exceptionally afflicted with a more innocuous, less virulent strain of self-enhancement bias is itself a function of your self-enhancement bias.

we think the moment you recognise / realise who the villain is he is vanquished. that's all there is to it, right? shout at the protagonist on stage, turn around! the monster is behind you! The hero slays his adversary and the play goes on. You believe he is erased. In fact he has merely disappeared. Sauntering through steps in the dark, he re-enters through the back, sidles in comfortably two seats down in the row just behind you, watching from the shadows, enjoying the irony. he wears a sinister smirk, observing the oblivious. chimps in a cage. savouring your ignorance, your false sense of security. that idiotic grin as you relax into the chair, believing that all is well. and then after the show he follows you home

---

the humblest man

he climbed for days to reach the peak. having done so he stood from the mountaintop and proclaimed to the town below: 'Hear me! All, repent! Realise your pride and become like me!'

A man walking past yelled back, 'Why do you stand so high up? come down from there!' The humblest man thus replied, 'No I must stay here and be an example to the world. They are filled with pride and self-deception. I have come to show them the way.'
'Who sent you?' asked the man.
'Please do not waste my time with questions, I am busy. Better for you to realise that you are not as humble as I am and repent,' the humblest man replied.
'How do you know that?' asked the man.
'My dear man,' the humblest man said, exasperated, 'I have evicted my sins. I have spent years meditating and training under masters and mentors far greater than I. Under their tutelage I have been humbled many times. I have received instruction upon instruction and rebuke upon rebuke. Countless times have I been punished and shown to be lacking. Through this intense and tireless fire, one thing has been made irrevocably clear to me, and that is this: I have nothing to be proud of. When I compare myself to those greater than myself, I have no reason, no right to be proud. When I beheld this truth, I was set free from the clutches of vanity. Now I have not a shred of pride left in me. Now I preach my testimony in the hopes of helping others recognise this grave and deadly sin.'
'Could you not also do that from the foot of the mountain?'
'You do not understand, friend, for you have not been made humble and wise like I have.'
The man below then shouted something the humblest man could not hear and went away.
Throughout the day, similar exchanges took place, but the humblest man managed to convert not even one of the town's folk.
'How strange,' thought he, 'why can they not see how humble I am? I think
it must be their pride,' the humblest man concluded, and continued about his mountaintop ministry.

anticlimax

good luck fisherman / beginning to sink

"[...] don't worry about not feeling like it. Personally, I've found that God often chooses to use us when we're at our lowest. When we're feeling weak, rather than when we're feeling strong. It's almost as though we are most precious to Him when we are in the storm about to capsize, when the sky is darkest, with a thorn in our side and water in our lungs, when our old self is being crucified."

---

Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.  

But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”  

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”  

"Come,” he said.

mad love and other stories

---

remember when i said writing was getting me down

---

how often i forget to be kind and how much of a difference it makes when i remember

stargazer windchaser

eyes that keep fixing to the nearest beauty

---

[untitled: originally written on 17/12/13]

It's warmer than it was yesterday, a pink haze announces the arrival of dusk. The onset of winter is similar to the departure of spring, but also dissimilar in many ways. The long, sharp shadows. Bright blue sky, gradually scorched ochre and orange. As the sun slowly dips beneath the horizon, a cool mist catches and softens its rays, scattering gentle light over the tree line and cityscape. I am thinking that this vista is so unlike the clouds of pollution that obscure the Malaysian skies. I am feeling sleepy but there is work to be done, so I decide to stop by the Portland building for a quick coffee.

There are so many people in the world, it's kind of amazing to think about each one living their lives with all the complexity and trepidation of our own. There are so many people in one university alone, enough to fill libraries and Portland buildings and walkways in between them. It's awe inspiring and a little terrifying to realise how infinitesimal one person actually is in relation to the body of humanity. Nothing illustrates this quite as well as going to a place you'd normally never go and seeing it filled with people and brimming with life. A humbling and stark reminder that life goes on in spite of our absence. The world is largely indifferent to our participation, uninterested by our presence. It is quite a miserable thought. It is therefore understandable, much preferable and far more practical that we compartmentalise our concerns, conduct our day to day interactions in isolated pockets, within our comfort zones and social circles.

The Starbucks lady calls out, 'gingerbread latte for Sophia.' A tan and slender, kind looking brunette steps forward to claim her drink. Sophia is a nice name, I think. Wisdom. Sipping an overpriced and festively christened caffeinated concoction, I wander about the upper floors, the backlit frosty squares you can see through the windows coming down the hill behind the Portland building, office workers flitting about their cubicles. Today I decide to investigate them up close and personal. I walk the corridor as inconspicuously as possible, peeking through the viewing strips in the door and catch sight of an assembly of tired looking students, the powerpoint slide reads, 'which of william shakespeare's texts is most suited for the stage? which of his texts is most suited for film?' In another room, a list of italicised german nouns are being projected across the screen, a man up front in a brown knitted sweater expounding on them.

I've been in these rooms before, for meetings in the past. The large concourse area, I spent a whole morning preparing for some Malaysian education event, but seeing it now, it seems like a completely different place. Each location is unique and is visited by certain specific groups of people for certain purposes. I have been here three years but I don't feel a part of this place. There is a very significant difference between people who come regularly and people who come frequently. As with the people who enter the restaurant establishment adjacent to the Starbucks, there is a fundamental difference between the people behind the counter and the people who trickle in and out throughout the day. In this case/context, everyone else is merely an extra in the lives of those who belong there. Who have found purpose in that place. In another context, the one who takes our order - we take note of, the one who places the order - his significance diminishes as his role in this narrative is similar to that of every other person before him and after him. How importance can fluctuate

There are a series of three flatscreen tv monitors in the lobby of the Portland building, all set beside each other and embedded in wooden panelling, with the two peripheral screens positioned at an angle such that their outermost edges reach slightly outward, into the lobby area such that if you stand right in front of the middle screen, the surrounding screens give the faint impression of panorama and immersion. These screens flash pictures and footage of picturesque locations around campus and in the city. Because the scene appears across three screens, with pedestrians crossing seamlessly from one screen into the one adjacent, it actually succeeds to an impressive degree to present itself as a window into these remote places.

Before me flashes a sunny field. The subtitle reads: Lakeside, University Park, Malaysian campus. The familiar grey sky, full of haze and humidity - I can almost taste the heat and heavy moisture in the air. I would have recognised it anywhere. Many people stop to look at the screen, usually for no more than a minute or two - enjoying the rare advantage of observing others with impunity. Ningbo campus, a montage of crowded Chinese streets and modern looking establishments of glass and steel. Ningbo city, the subtitle reads. An idyllic bustle, sunswept streets depicting a dusty metropolis full of congestion and pollution and promise.

Before me a student stops in his tracks and stares at the screens. I am positioned behind him so I cannot see his face but from his demeanour I can tell he is watching them in wonder, feet poised to draw him away, but something compels him to stay. What is it that he sees, what is it that has caught his attention and drawn him in? He stands there staring with almost reverential stillness, mesmerised. Briefly, he lingers, then with a strange reluctance breaks his gaze and hurries away.

---

University is not the same as high school, it's vastly different. Each school I've been to quickly integrated and felt attached to the place, but here it's different. Here there are so many places to be -- so many that it gets hard to keep track of where you've been. There's no shortage of New places to discover such that slowly and surely the old places get left behind till one day you look back and it's nothing but a blimp in the distance, a smiling memory.

---

[after dark / dromomania : originally written on 14/5/14 while wandering around Lincoln, killing time before taking the last train down to London Gatwick to catch a 6am flight to Berlin to meet with my mom for two days]

Lincoln is a beautiful city. It is beautiful in the sun, and it is exceedingly beautiful when the sun sets. There are cathedrals and castles and cobble stones. Architecture and modern university buildings. Unassuming shop fronts and narrow streets with quaint canals and a wide harbour and impressive bridges. Semi-sophisticated boutiques selling fashion lining the high street. So much character crammed into one city, so much history condensed into such a small place. The river runs through the city centre, underneath bridges and widening into a marina further in providing a perfect backdrop restaurants lining the waterside wharf. The train tracks run straight through the heart of the city, bisecting the high street and main road. Every 10 minutes the lights will flash and the barriers will lower and pedestrians and cars will gather to watch freight trains rumbling past. In the golden light of late afternoon this ritual seems vaguely romantic - but on a gray and misty day such as this it is a completely different kind of dusk. None of the glorious exuberance - no extravagant farewell but a subdued and humble kind of death.

The city at night becomes a different place - as if under an enchantment. Shoplights bloom and become prominent as the daylight dims, exuding an intensified glamour and charm. The streets and arcades gradually empty as one by one the shops draw their shutters down and usher their customers out. All activity ceases and a feeling of loneliness or isolation overtakes the city. But then, just as the darkness and quiet begins to envelop the town, in the distance, weaker beacons begin to shine. The restaurants and eateries come to life. A different crowd starts to trickle through the streets and are sucked into warm hubs of food and noise - the pubs and restaurants who do not advertise in neon but with a dim glow, backlit by candles and the warmth of their patron's smiles. Happy diners huddled together - a stark contrast to the cold and darkness outside.

There is a late night kebab place called 'Lincoln charcoal grill kebabs' that plays the best in-house pop music. Again so different to these fine ambiences, the fluorescent charm of 24 hour delivery and kebab and fried chicken. Their own kind of welcome and atmosphere - reminds me of mamaks back home - their indifference is a form of acceptance. Feels romantic to sit at a diner in the middle of the night - your own little world of life and light. A pane of glass between you and the cold. Why supermarkets at night are so inviting - a place to be the way you feel. A collecting place for people who are alone - with nowhere to be, nowhere to go or see. Spend time in aisles 'with' each other but never making contact, deftly manoeuvring around each other. the only form of acknowledgement we want . give is this sense of unbelonging not wanting to be out in the cold, we pretend to be busy, spend time and money staring at a hundred variations of things we don't need. And lastly the glow of discreet homes scattered throughout the city - a unique illumination inhabit - solitary existence - as opposed to social human connection and estranged camaraderie of midnight diners and convenience stores. Some of them luxurious student homes, glass balconies with angles and finely shaded ceilings - and then the quiet, refined meadow green wallpaper, a painting hanging on the wall - they all seem so warm and comfortable looking in - strangers - an unbearable urge to knock on their windows, strike up a conversation, be invited in and spend an hour in their homes enjoying their hospitality.

Lincoln at night is a vibrant, exciting, slightly shady city. A different side - sheds its modest and humble facade and offers enough to keep you awake. This craving for human connection - is this normal? Is it pathological?

---

[the cruelest month: originally written sometime in April of 2013]

"For I myself saw the Cumaean Sibyl with my own eyes, hanging in a cruet, and when the boys asked her, Sibyl, what do you want?, she answered, I want to die."

               An adult once called my writing sparse.

               The word 'depression' gets thrown around a lot these days; nobody really knows what it means anymore. Does it simply mean feeling worse than normal? or does it mean being sad for no reason? Perhaps it means hating yourself all the time. Ask ten people and you'll likely get ten different answers. All I know is that twice a year, I have a tendency to feel bad, and that nothing I do can compel or persuade these feelings to die until it has run its course and decided that its end is due, leaving me no recourse but to wait it out. These last usually a month and occur always around summer and wintertime, but with such regularity and inevitability that I sometimes wonder if I do not lay claim to my own private, fluctuating set of biological afflictions. Sometimes I blame it on the weather or exam stress, but I feel the extent of my sadness and the circumstances surrounding it are sometimes incommensurate. A normal person can only get worked up about the weather so much.

               It was already 8pm. i still hadn't quite gotten used to seeing the evening sun like that. the sky was a strange, apologetic shade of blue; a 'goodbye' that sounded too much like 'please'; a hoarse, pathetic hue. I don't really know why i felt like taking a walk - i just felt a strong, intense desire to get out of the house. Lately, I've learnt to recognize and heed such urges. Sometimes the body knows better than the mind. It possesses its own determined, autonomous agenda, and the mind has no choice but to follow subjected to its whims - like a long-suffering girlfriend being dragged along to the unsolicited, unwarranted sequel of some tedious summer blockbuster, content to indulge her other half in distraction whilst discreetly tending to her own devices.

               When I was thirteen I remember wondering, can anything exist that doesn't have a purpose? Like most kids my age, I was an incorrigible daydreamer - but I was something of an oddity in that my passions lay in tackling metaphysical conundrums rather than embarking on outer-space odysseys or glorious and imaginary athletic careers. If I reach out and clench my fist for no reason, it's not really for no reason because the rationale behind it was to test my hypothesis - so that seemingly pointless action did have have a purpose after all. I don't think I ever really reached a conclusion. While I'm still not sure if everything we do is governed and guided by some unfathomable underlying purpose, i do know this - sometimes we do things for reasons we don't fully understand just yet. Sometimes the purpose is obscured and later revealed. Do we cry because we want food or do we cry because we're unhappy. Once we know we get food when we cry, we start to cry when we want food. And indeed the air was fresh. Just cool enough to whet the senses and keep your head light.

               I get to the fish and chip place and order the special. The place is empty, so I sit down at the counter facing the window and begin to eat. I don't really know why I decided to come here all alone and eat fish and chips by myself. I think a part of me just decided that I need to be away from people for a while. That happens, sometimes. There's a lot of solace to be found in solitude, I feel. While eating, I suddenly recall a friend's tales of eating takoyaki at forlon takoyaki stalls at godforsaken hours with only discontented salary-men for company. Is this what soul searching is, I wonder. But I'm not really searching for anything. Not that I'm aware of, at least.

               In the books I've read, most of them feature protagonists that are kind of loners. Outsiders. Most of their time is spent away from people. Rarely do I find a book where the protagonist is a social butterfly. I once read somewhere that books are a symbol of a man's solitude. Perhaps that has something to do with it. Do the authors identify with this kind of person. Perhaps the other kind of person didn't exist. they just pretend to exist. maybe everyone secretly wants to eat fish and chips by themselves at 9pm, and writers are the only people brave enough to admit it. is that selfish? is that normal? why is it not acceptable to eat fish and chips by yourself at the counter of a shop at 9pm. I wish we could just accept people for being boring. or awkward. I wish people would forgive me for being for being preoccupied. for being unresponsive. I wish God would warn me before it rains. I wish could be safe again. I wish I could count on people to be generous - to put up with lousy sunsets - to give out second chances. is this self pity unjustified? am I just feeling sorry for myself? Maybe so, but it is almost summer after all. Guess I'll just have to wait it out.

---

this is how I write when I get sad. the hollow tone. the vacant narration. it's strange how the text so clearly reflects my actions as well as my state of mind at the time. the feeling of distance, of being far removed -  a voice from the grave - and to compensate, excessively detailed descriptions of my surroundings. cloudy ruminations and detached observations. distracted eyes, taking everything in indiscriminately, not making sense of anything. rambling unprecise prose, nomadic notions failing to tie in to any kind of cohesive whole. uncertain, drifting, meandering, wandering without any real purpose or destination. a journey that leads nowhere. both the narrative and I are unwittingly searching for catharsis or at least a decent conclusion, but we somehow always wind up the same way - with a dead end, the vague illusion of change and the same three or four pointless questions.

keep moving

"Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet." 

- Luke 7:41-46

---

The feeling of placelessness is a bit like a dream: the heightened romance, the intense brooding, the inherently transitory nature of the whole affair. Placelessness happens when we find ourselves inhabiting “in-between” spaces like hotels or apartments in far-away places that we don’t know well and where we won’t stay long.  

- Cody C. Delistraty, The Eroticism of Placelessness

---

how to remain connected without getting caught up. how to stay grounded without getting buried. how to take on the world without getting weighed down

---

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophecies, but test everything; hold fast to what is good. Abstain from every form of evil. 

- 1 Thessalonians 5:16-20

Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

- Philippians 4:5-7

---

I think the key to good humour and good science lies in detachment - the art of being uninvolved, the ability to step outside of the situation and be an objective observer - whereas the key to great poetry is entanglement - the art of imagining yourself as an inextricable part of everything and feeling that everything is a part of yourself.

Why is the world so vast? Why would I choose to live in a land other than my native country, state or city? Maybe it's to experience freedom, and along with it loneliness and longing and the sharp pang of unbelonging. Maybe the source of all this anguish comes of mistaking a hotel for a home. Perhaps all this pain and poignancy arises from a lack of detachment.

Maybe the belief that this world is all there is might have something to do with why I treat every missed opportunity like a tragedy, every uncomfortable interaction as a catastrophe, why i cannot behold beauty without being plagued by anxious anticipation of the moment it fades away. why i hold on tight to both pain and blessing the same - too tight to appreciate or learn from it. Among the myriad things I've forgotten or left behind, perhaps one of them is the luxury of knowing that I belong somewhere else. Letting go isn't easy but it is essential. Understanding that this world is one beautiful letdown after another makes that process a bit easier, and perhaps a little more peaceful.

please come back to me

and we stood 

steady as the stars in the woods 

so happy-hearted 

and the warmth rang true inside these bones 

- ben howard, old pine

---

---

will you look at me and tell me that my scars are beautiful
or do you only love the ones who look like you

---

infatuation is something that can be resisted, a fever that can be outlasted
passion doesn't endure forever, it passes, affection subsides
and when it does either love has taken root or it hasn't

work & play

4th year medic / barely functioning member of society

---

a productive day for me is one where i manage to wake up and shower and put on real clothes and take out the trash and do my laundry and eat a meal

---

hair unkempt, exhibiting signs of chronic self-neglect. psych patients be looking at me like, 'how come he gets to go out?'

一人でする方法

1. find space for yourself
2. read more
3. talk less

let there be light

the kid 20 year old ceo who was sad

---

the alcoholic with no hope and motivation arrested development overdose

---

winter comes; feet are
cold. warm duvet -- its heavy
warmth, comforting weight

unconscious excellence

properly meek and humble people don't have to worry about appearing meek and humble

---

To even get near [humility], even for a moment, is like a drink of cold water to a man in a desert. Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call “humble” nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him. If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.

C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity 

---

wise as serpents and harmless as doves

uncertainty principles

- so it's ok to be uncertain of some things?

- sure

- but is it ok to be uncertain of everything?

- i think so /  maybe / i don't know / i'm not sure

---

first year memories of having friends over while watching people play video games

---

i have no priorities. my mind does not discriminate between reading up the different definitions of the word 'tautology', scrolling through pictures of lazy animals and looking up my timetable for next week's clinical attachment. My mind doesn't care what it is it. It just wants to do it. And by it I mean everything. all at once if possible. brain: 'hey remember that funny comedy sketch on youtube from 2009? wouldn't it be cool to look it up right now in the middle of writing this important work email?' it's not that i don't realize the email is clearly more important - it's that i try to justify it by saying, 'yeah, well, but think of it this way - its unimportance is proportionate to the amount of effort and time i'll have to spend on it so it doesn't really matter whether i do it now or later.' 'ok so why don't you just do it la-''I WANT TO DO IT NOW ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)'

it's only 3 minutes long anyway - what's the harm in wasting 3 minutes? and then clicking on the videos in the sidebar and wasting another 3 minutes - and then that cool interview with james franco - that should be funny. it's only 14 minutes long - plus it's only 8pm - there's plenty of time left to sort out that email. On its own, there's no harm in interrupting a work process to take a break and do something else. It might even be beneficial in some cases. But if you consistently interrupt what you're doing to engage in some other newer more interesting activity you'll never actually get anything done. if you keep pursuing instant gratification you'll never accomplish anything that takes longer than an instant. there's also the fact that watching comedy sketches is a lot more fun than writing a work email, so it could just be me procrastinating and reading wikipedia articles with the vehement subconscious intent of avoiding work. But it doesn't just happen with work stuff. It happens with articles, interviews, image macros and even blog posts. My attention span is probably partly to blame. The quicker you get bored of something the less you want to do it -- but I don't think that's the whole story. I think it's mostly due to the fact that I want to do so many things, and I hate the idea of not doing all of them. No matter what it is, i have to do it. Do I really have to know how the word tautology is used in the study of logic? Do I really need to know why Leonard Cohen has started smoking again? I don't even know the guy. And yet some peculiar urge inside me insists: 'Yes. Yes you do.'

there's always a fear that if i leave it till later i won't remember or that the chance to do it might expire. isn't that crazy? i'm actually anxious about not being able to watch james franco talk to david letterman. or find out which female movie stereotype i am - as if i will incur some major loss for having declined this opportunity. As if it will detract from the total fixed sum of happiness i am destined to accumulate in this life. The fear of missing out is very real. But what makes it ridiculous is that i don't consider the cost of foregoing my current activity -- or the twenty other tabs i opened and then immediately forgot about. 'saving them for later,' i whisper maniacally to myself, like one of those compulsive hoarders they talk about on daytime tv. 

you see, i only weigh the opportunity cost of the possibility before me. the scotoma of my judgement affects everything besides the thing i am presently looking at. it's like trying to get a girlfriend but falling in love with every girl you see. But clicking a link is a lot easier and more straightforward than asking a girl out so I end up clicking on every promising headline or blinking notification that comes my way.

Consequently i speed up my rate of consumption (and interactions), frantic to get on to the next thing. i'm hardly enjoying the video as i'm too busy nervously eyeing the staggering number of tabs i've amassed. as this is happening, two thoughts are playing over and over in the back of my mind. the first is: i've lost so much already. i cannot afford to lose any more. and the second is this: what should i do next?

cognitive detox / more haste less speed

1. slow down
2. too much head, not enough heart
3. slow down
4. words should ---> truth not the other way around
5. turn your truth(s) into action
6. slow down

glossophobia

if i had a nickel for every time i said something dumb and offensive i'd have a lot of nickels

love comes first

1. value actions over words
2. let your actions speak for themselves
3. let your words be of worth

---

By the humility and gentleness of Christ, I appeal to you--I, Paul, who am "timid" when face to face with you, but "bold" toward you when away! I beg you that when I come I may not have to be as bold as I expect to be toward some people who think that we live by the standards of this world [. . .] I do not want to seem to be trying to frighten you with my letters. For some say, "His letters are weighty and forceful, but in person he is unimpressive and his speaking amounts to nothing." Such people should realize that what we are in our letters when we are absent, we will be in our actions when we are present. 

— 2 Corinthians 10:1-2 / 10:9-11

---

"what do i do though, if people won't listen?"
"then quiet yourself and listen to them. hear them out. love without speaking."

addendum / keep moving / just one of those days

[or perhaps as we grow older we tend to think more and develop stronger attachments and have more to lose and get stuck in the past and get less good at moving on]

executive summary: we let small things upset us greatly when we're older because:
1. we become good at avoiding pain therefore grow unaccustomed to dealing with it -- body with no pathogenic exposure is more susceptible to cell damage secondary to infection
2. we're liable to be fixated on the past. being bad at moving on from bad experiences means we don't heal as well over time because we keep picking at old wounds, so they persist and occasionally get infected

---

even the bad days 
don't seem as bad when you're near
even the storm seems calm 
and the waters tranquil
when you're here

even sugar tastes sweeter
and the sun shines brighter
even songs sound better
and my steps feel lighter

my paths are made straight
and my eyes can see clearly
my sleep is untroubled
and my jokes are more funny

when i am with you
nothing can harm me
even though i walk through
the valley of the shadow of death
i will not fear, for you are with me
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me

you prepare a table before me 
in the presence of my enemies.
you anoint my head with oil
my cup overflows
surely goodness and mercy will follow me
all the days of my life
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever

self-help

dear 13 year old self: 9 years from now you're going to have a pretty shit day a few pretty shit days. when that happens, don't overthink it. just pick yourself up and dust yourself off and move on. and try to get a haircut

love, yourself

P.S. you left your stethoscope in one of the small suitcases in the storeroom

ツンデレサービス / 優しい人になりたいけど

“You all know," said the Guide, "that security is mortals' greatest enemy.” 

— C.S. Lewis, The Pilgrim's Regress

---

Consultants are rarely unkind in the same way SHOs or junior doctors tend to be. Perhaps they feel their status being threatened or see too much of themselves in medical students, but whatever the reason I often sense an air of deliberate distance or sometimes just plain rudeness in the way they act - whereas the ungraciousness of consultants is much more like the tactless indifference of a tall person who forgets to hunch

---

Children have a reputation for being cruel, but I think most of the time if someone is hurt it is incidental - collateral damage. I believe there is very little malice actually present in their tiny hearts, trace amounts at most. Pride - sure. Jealousy - tons. But these things don't directly involve the desire to harm others. They are attitudes rooted in selfishness and any injury caused is technically unintentional - a second degree offence. Children cling to pride and envy as a means of self-preservation. They deploy sarcasm and cruel jokes as defence mechanisms. You wouldn't accuse a bee of being evil for stinging you. If there is one kind of misconduct we can safely convict them of I think it would be insensitivity, or a lack of empathy - which is much easier to forgive than wilful betrayal or a spiteful comment.

I think kids' egos are stronger and more durable than grown-ups, or at least less fragile. They'll say terrible things to each other and punch each other in the face and then a day later go back to being best friends. Maybe it's because when you're young, you heal so fast you hardly notice getting hurt. At what stage of development, I wonder - what physiological phenomenon is it which makes the heart so suddenly vulnerable. Or maybe as we mature our actions and words have more power. Consequently, we're no longer able to play as rough and carelessly as we did before. When we were young our muscles and minds were not yet fully formed - they were under-developed, impotent, innocuous. We couldn't have caused serious harm to each other even if we wanted to - but now that we've grown so hideously strong we sometimes destroy each other with barely a touch and by accident. Now a passing remark or disappointed look which would have in the past merely given you a bruise or a scrape on the knee cuts straight to the bone and leaves a scar.

Maybe the fact that sometime toward the end of childhood we learn to recognise our own propensity and frightful natural aptitude for wounding each other, and then realise we detest it and make an effort to outgrow it makes these kinds of injuries uncommon in adulthood. And perhaps because these injuries are so rare and avoidable we adjust our expectations and allow ourselves to be conditioned to a world without any pain or discomfort or people you don't really get along with, which is why we get so incredibly upset when we eventually do encounter them.

msn memories and SAO thoughts

SAO II aka survivor's guilt online - it's actually really good. so good i'm willing to let the ALO arc slide. also when did Asuna get so dere-dere? it's not that i don't like it but it just seems weird that all of her tsun would vanish so completely without a trace. Part of what made her such a compelling character in the SAO arc was how strong and independent she was but now she seems kind of relegated to the side-lines - her personality watered down. I suppose people do tend to change when they enter a new relationship - that being said, Senjougahara still seems very much like Senjougahara to me

---

if virtual reality were possible think about what it would do for long-distance relationships

---

The thing about online role-playing games is that it gives you a chance to be someone else - but not just that, it gives you a chance to see people in a new light. I'll elaborate on that in a bit.

There's a kind of unique good-will between players in online RPGs - as in, you're more likely to actively meet new people and initiate interactions and conversations because it's safer than doing so in the real world - they can't physically hurt you, nor can they actually injure you emotionally because all that they encounter is merely a virtual representation.

I posit that a special paucity of prejudice is present in MMORPGs, because you have no idea who the other person actually is. All you have to go on is the name and avatar they've picked. You don't even know what the other person's real gender is or if they're a good person or if they're older than you. As a result, players tend to reserve judgement and gradually build up their impression of others based on their words and actions - if you help them, if you're polite, that sort of thing. It feels as if a premium is placed on what other players say or do - and because of this, everyone is a little more deliberate in their dealings with others, while the mask of anonymity allows for freedom of expression with relative impunity. Consequently, the interactions which take place in-game are quite different from ones conducted in real life.

What makes MMORPGs different from the highly volatile (and sometimes blatantly hostile) environments of internet forums and comment boards is the imminent virtual reminder that the other person is a living breathing human being with hopes and dreams and feelings. In the comments section of a blog or on Youtube, all you have to do is type out an inflammatory statement, press enter and close the window. End of story. But if the subject of abuse is right in front of you, you're more likely to consider the consequences of your actions, especially if you both inhabit the same world and may have to rely on each other later to achieve a common objective. In this way, the sense of community mitigates the potential pitfalls and dangers of online anonymity.

I think the main reason I find online games like these remarkable is because there seems to be an unconscious but heightened awareness of the fact that a person's appearance is not always a reliable indicator of who they truly are

雨ですね

ode to train

"I prefer trains though."

"How come?" she asks.

He shrugs. "The novelty, I guess."

"Hmm."

A pause.

"Actually that's not true - it's something to do with the deep passionless fluorescence of the night time coaches. The quiet warmth of well-worn neon. The enclosed solidarity between fellow travellers. It feels sort of like entering a kind old couple's home for the night. The sleepy welcome of an illuminated interior - carpeted floors and shabby, cushioned seats. The effort put in to make your trip comfortable, even though it rarely is. Maybe it has something to do with a Ghibli film. The tired and familiar night time banter and brightness. The smells, the idea of rows of strangers travelling together for long distances to get to similar destinations. I don't know. I find it comforting - I feel less alone."

silent movie idea / what bout my star

there is a famous pretty girl on tv
guy falls in love with her through the computer screen
their paths chronically coincide, many times they almost meet
but never really do till fate intervenes
she falls in love when they meet on the street
but alas she is not the her from his dreams
they start to date, she's as happy as can be
but he becomes mesmerised by some other famous teen
she finds out, gets upset, cries and then leaves
and the guy is left pining for the girl on tv

marry that girl

Take delight in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart. 

— Psalm 37:4

---

- dear God I think I'm ready for a girlfriend now please

- How Often Did You Text Your Mom Last Week

- yeah ok yeah i see Your point

---

God's choice vs. your choice
What you want vs. what you need / what's right for you
Settling vs. settling down

misery loves co.

to be read in the style and voice of Louis C.K.:

- I'm single. i've been single for a while now and I notice lately that I'm surrounded by couples. like, all my friends are in relationships.      and I don't like it. 

-- don't get me wrong, i'm not saying i don't enjoy being single. i'm not bitter about it. i'm just saying i might enjoy not being single even more. like, you know, it's a possibility. 

- now, don't get me wrong, i'm not saying i don't enjoy being single. i love being single - as long as everyone around me is single as well 

- let me rephrase. i'm not saying i don't enjoy being single. what i'm saying is, i don't enjoy being single 

my voice:

as much as i used to / anymore 

 Cue laughter + applause. exit stage left

furochan leaves

London skyline, looking warm for once
shy and bright, like the stoic city is
waving you goodbye
a little self-conscious, it
stands miles away, opposed to
closeness yet ill-disposed
to letting go. a tear in its eye
and a paper thin smile
saying, so long - farewell!
we'll meet again someday
perhaps. take care! be well --

goodbye!
      
   goodbye,

                  goodbye.

curiosity and the cat

Do not say, "Why were the old days better than these?" For it is not wise to ask such questions.

— Ecclesiastes 7:10

---

an angel is singing to me
in a dream. 'Chiaroscuro,'
she says, 'wake up
sleepy head' and the word is
with me throughout the day
as i do the dishes, i recall
her cheeks blushing the way
adults do not

塩風の歌

enjoy the heartbreak; it is the very best part!
said he, for mourning is better than laughter
and a sad face good for the heart!

August and the leaves are turning
orange already, the world beginning to die
but we stride on aimlessly, long and hard
trying to outrun the tide

blessed are the poor in spirit
for they are the experts at drowning, you see.
no breath to spend on sighing
or laughter. looking up all the time
with a desperate smile
and eyes like two holes, always
taking on water

so savour the heartbreak; yes, cherish the sorrow,
for what is more compelling than
a well-worn misery
clutching hope like a folded flag
like remnants of a shipwreck
a man dying of thirst
and praying
for land

kids these days

being taught humility by elementary school kids

a primer on approaching cats and people you don't know

Make eye contact and acknowledge the other party's presence.
Approach slowly, travelling nearly all of the way
but stopping just short of them. Establish,
between the two of you, a comfortable distance
and then demonstrate by whatever means necessary
that you mean them no harm. Kneel if you have to.
Be patient and wait for them to either advance or retreat -
bearing in mind that now might not be an especially good time.
But - if the other party does eventually decide
to reciprocate, as far as it depends on you,
be polite and try not to rub them the wrong way

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Ignorant

For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. 

— 1 Corinthians 1:22-25

---

I used to think you learn less and less as you grow older, since you've already learned up all there is to learn. Turns out the older you get, the more there is to learn.

---

The Bible says God made Solomon the wisest man on earth who has ever lived and will ever live. Take a second to consider the magnitude of what that means. If we take it literally, that means that he was and is and forever will be the wisest man to have walked the earth. No human from now till the end of time will possess greater wisdom than he had. And yet he strayed from the path of righteousness and turned away from God. What does that say about worldly wisdom? What it says to me is that wisdom isn't the key to righteousness - and that the sum of all earthly wisdom is infinitesimal compared to divine knowledge. A punctuation mark in the book of life. An atom of insight in an ocean of truth. 

---

“Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think. All nonsense questions are unanswerable. How many hours are in a mile? Is yellow square or round? Probably half the questions we ask - half our great theological and metaphysical problems - are like that.” 

—  C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed 

5 things I wish someone had told me before starting clinicals

*Context: I wrote a thing for my medical school corporate blog. Here it is

---

Hi there, my name's Jon and I'm a fourth year medic doing Specials at Mansfield at the moment. Equipped with six months and two weeks worth of hindsight, I'm hoping to provide some honest and practical tips to help you make the most of your clinical placements / work experience attachments. Even if you aren't starting clinicals any time soon, you might as well scroll through. This catalogue of previous shortcomings and avowed ineptitudes will at best inform and at worst serve to amuse.

1. Take histories

Lots of them. If possible, take all of them. And then take some more. I used to dread history taking. I avoided it like MRSA. Nothing's worse than being stuck with a blank sheet and a blank look on your face trying to think of what comes after past surgical history while the patient sits there staring impatiently at you. That is, unless you then try and present that history to an irritable and overworked consultant. History taking is a vital skill which will either haunt you or serve you wonderfully throughout the rest of your medical career. It's important to get used to it early on as the ability to take a thorough and focussed history will be a major asset, if not essential, in virtually every single one of your future placements, as well as the OSLER exam at the end of the year which will test you specifically on this. The earlier you get comfortable with this skill the better. If you're one of those people who naturally know which questions to ask and have the Calgary-Cambridge framework entrenched within the essence of your soul, good for you. But if not, you'll have to work at it, and the best way to improve is just by doing it over and over again and learning from your mistakes. Once you've taken your history, go over which questions you have missed out - what you should have asked - and remember to ask them next time. Presenting to doctors on the ward is great for highlighting things you may have forgotten to ask. The most important thing here is understanding the rationale behind each question. One of the biggest mistakes I made in CP1 was rattling off the questions mindlessly like a checklist, instead of purposefully asking questions to help exclude or support a particular diagnosis. Once you reach that stage, it's less like going through a checklist and more like solving a puzzle. That's when it gets challenging, and that's when it gets fun. Of course, this presupposes some knowledge of common diseases and their presentations, which normally gets covered during tutorials and in weekly lectures, but you'd be surprised by how much clinical knowledge one gains just from being chewed out by an irritable consultant on the wards. The sooner the process of history taking starts to become an automatism, the sooner you can focus on thinking about possible diagnoses while speaking to the patient. This will then determine which questions you should ask and also help you with presenting your findings later in a clear and structured manner. It took me longer than I'd care to admit before I finally realised this.

2. Learn the surgical sieve

This. Consultants have a habit of asking medical students what the causes of things are. My go-to move when that happens is to physically and mentally freeze up, look around me in a panic as if the answer is lurking somewhere in the periphery of the room, say 'umm' a few times, and then offer up a dumb sounding suggestion in a tiny, apologetic voice. I mean - that was before I learnt the surgical sieve. Essentially, what it is is just categories of diseases - the main ones being Vascular, Inflammatory / Infective, Trauma, Autoimmune, Metabolic, Iatrogenic, Neoplastic, Congenital, Degenerative, Endocrine and Functional. The mnemonic I use is 'VITAMIN CDEF'. Trust me, it's a lifesaver - definitely one worth learning. Now at least my answers have some structure before they get shot down.

3. A little introduction goes a long way

It's always daunting, your first day on the wards. You don't know where anything is or who does what or why everyone is ignoring you. Anxiety is like a bad smell - a natural deterrent to human interaction. The ultimate solution to this problem is to gain confidence by growing your knowledge, familiarising yourself with your surroundings and accruing small successes throughout your clinical experience, but this takes time to happen. Meanwhile, you can combat the rancid odour of your nervousness by being polite. Remember when you were taught to always introduce yourself to patients as a matter of basic courtesy? This applies to doctors and nurses too. It makes a lot of difference, saying good morning and initiating interaction instead of shuffling around uncomfortably in the background waiting to be asked who you are. Staff are more likely to help if you have made the effort to make yourself known, plus being civil just generally improves the working atmosphere. Give consultants an opportunity to acknowledge your existence by introducing yourself and asking if you can join their ward round / theatre / clinic. I used to think it was an unforgivable sin to interrupt a healthcare professional in the midst of doing something. It turns out, they don't mind too much if you have a good reason for interrupting them. Obviously, be courteous when trying to get their attention. A simple 'excuse me' or 'hi' tends to do the trick. Alternatively, subtly manoeuvre your expectant gaze into their field of vision. If none of these things work, it's likely that he/she is wilfully ignoring you. In that case, try some other time or try somebody else. Remember to smile. Smiling helps a lot. Nurses and doctors appreciate enthusiasm and are more likely to involve you if you actively show it. If you're still struggling to get the hang of engaging with strangers, observe the foundation year and core trainee doctors. They tend to be experts at tactful interruption. Eventually and with enough practice, this will come naturally to you as well.

4. You're expected not to know things

As a student, this is your golden opportunity to ask dumb questions, because you're almost expected to. Once you're out of medical school, dumb questions are far less forgiveable. So ask now. Ask with all you've got. Ask them till you've got none left. That being said, try to avoid questions that can be answered by an understanding of basic anatomy / physiology. Everything else as far as I'm concerned is par for the course. The worst that'll happen is you'll be told to read up on it at home. Also, don't be discouraged or take it personally when consultants make you feel dumb. They don't do it on purpose, it's just their nature. And don't just ask for the sake of asking. Doctors can tell and you look like a lemon. Learn to identify the junior doctors / nurses / registrars / consultants who are willing to teach (they will look friendly and not sigh as much when you talk to them). Make the most out of your time with them. Squeeze them dry and thank them profusely afterwards.

5. You're allowed to be there

When I first started clinicals, I believed that my presence on the wards or in the clinics was somehow encumbering its function. Some of the people I encountered during CP1 certainly made no effort to hide the fact that they shared this belief. You can't really blame them though. Having a medical student around does slow things down. We take ages to clerk, make mistakes, plus having to teach means having less time to treat. However, about halfway through CP1 a clinical teaching fellow in Lincoln told me something I'll never forget. He said that no matter how much of a nuisance I believed myself to be, I had a right to be there and make a nuisance of myself, so long as I was learning something in the process. Effectively, he was saying not to let my fear of getting in the way get in the way of my learning. He went on to tell me that hospitals and universities are paid enormous amounts of money to teach medical students how to be doctors, therefore apologising for being on the wards is as absurd as apologising for coming to lectures or attending a tutorial. Teaching is part of the job. It's even in the Hippocratic Oath. I came to realise that if I didn't make myself a nuisance now and learn what I needed to, I'd become an even bigger burden two years down the line when the workload and responsibility increase exponentially. I decided that I'd much rather cause a minor inconvenience now than be a major one when I qualify.

5.5 It's going to be alright

If I had a sixth thing to tell myself, it would be this: Medical school is tough, and it keeps getting tougher. There will be days where you feel like giving up and just quitting med school to work on your comedy, but don't do it. You may think you aren't intelligent or hardworking or determined enough, but that's not true. Trust me, I'm from the future. You are going to make it. The important thing is to stick with it -- do your best, don't give up, and for goodness sake iron your shirts.

modern chemistry / monster's ball

for a generation with so many modes of communication, we're pretty terrible at expressing ourselves

---

too busy bulletproofing my ego to practice love

---

10 minutes of outrageous courage
5 minutes of complete honesty
for 1 week question everything you share - the motive behind it, what am I promoting - myself or something more?

---

Rather than actions or discrete events, i.e. forgetting someone's birthday, borrowing money without returning it, the most detrimental and toxic things in a relationship are insidious in nature. Barely noticeable, they creep up on us like a cancer that slowly spreads, poisoning a person's character, actions and attitudes from the inside, only frankly manifesting much later as a constellation of ruined relationships. But by then the damage has been done, often irreversibly.

Selfishness. Bitterness. Resentment. Contempt. The worst things - envy and pride - they don't make a scene or betray themselves by obvious means. They don't announce their presence but slip in unnoticed whenever genuine human interaction becomes an imminent possibility. What they like to do is creep up behind your shoulder and whisper doubt and anxiety into your ear. They shove criticisms and comparisons into the heart to crowd out compassion and charity. The atmosphere then becomes tainted with foul thoughts and motives which pre-empt/disrupt/prevent any attempt at a meaningful exchange from occurring. Cynicism and doubt do their best to imprison/isolate us within our respective insecurities and keep us from the possibility of recognising the being before us as a creature wonderfully and fearfully made - a sea of wisdom and folly and stories and memories and mystery masquerading as an awkward and slightly overweight carbon based life form. It does this alarmingly well by keeping us fearfully focused on ourselves, preoccupied by pride. Because fear and envy cloud our vision, we cannot see the person who has been custom-made and lovingly designed by the maker of heaven and earth, destined to become immortal beings of near infinite worth. What takes its place instead are conversations consisting of only secular and superficial things; a sense of showing off; a mutual distrust; a brutal self-serving kind of honesty; a cruel and severe humour; a facetious demeanour; a rehearsed earnestness; a loud and desperate nonchalance. There is no mutual fostering of affection - nothing real ventured besides a pantomime of congeniality. A tiresome masquerade where all the dancers are simultaneously judging and trying to impress each other. What results is a steady erosion of goodwill. A vague and gradual surfeit of ill feeling. A steady decay of relations, a souring you can't really apologise for. That's the worst part, arguably: realising your fault and being unable to ask forgiveness.

Still, it's not too late to make a recovery. What a neoplastic, failing heart needs is surgery -- a heart transplant. Let's acknowledge our brokenness and stop pretending to be perfect. We're all works in progress, walking around with open chests. Don't focus on fixing the selfishness or pride in yourself. Instead focus on finding and appreciating the good in each other. Be kind. Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil, cling to what is good. Love one another. Take the lead in showing honour one to another. Rejoice with those who rejoice. Weep with those who weep. Be of the same mind toward one another, not setting your mind on the high things but going along with the lowly. Do not be wise in yourselves. Remind yourself to be kind. Give without expecting anything in return. Remind yourself to be kind again. Listen - I mean, really listen to them when they speak. You won't have time to be proud or arrogant or envious. You will be amazed by the excellence you discover in them. They themselves will be amazed. Allow their value to blossom before you and their pride loses its meaning. It no longer has any use and is cast off like the crutch of a cripple who has been healed. For now that the masks are off, you can distinguish the artifice from the act. In your hands you recognise the false veneer for what it is, and realize again what the face underneath looked like. And you will ask yourselves why you were afraid at all to begin with.

---

Most important of all, continue to show deep love for each other, for love covers a multitude of sins. 

– 1 Peter 4:8

only human / six line aphoristic and barely-rhyming poem

people who don't want to die but won't stop doing the thing that's killing them

---

truth looks past pretty and points to the beautiful
wisdom listens to the facts and tells us the truth
humility turns an argument into a new point of view
sincerity takes lovers and turns them into fools
faith shapes each day; hope makes it new
love turns the heart into a living room

my gal friday

morning smoking girl by Zipcy

the day you made your mother cry

the last time you wrote/spoke from the heart

---

isn't it strange how loving the world causes us to forsake our neighbours

---

some lessons you only learn through loving the people you're meant to let go

the other cheek

yesterday i walked past a man on the street wearing a denim blue t-shirt with bold white lettering which proclaimed, 'ALL YOU NEED IS LESS'

---

But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbour and hate your enemy.' But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.

---

I got scammed out of three pounds five days ago by a blonde girl with a lip piercing. She was standing outside the entrance of the medical school wearing smart black shoes, a blouse and business skirt, holding a mostly finished cigarette in her hand. She stopped me as I was passing by and asked if I had a bus ticket back to Derby.

Of course I didn't have a bus ticket to Derby. We both knew she didn't really want a bus ticket to Derby. I said no and she started explaining that she had come over as a volunteer and lost her purse and was consequently stranded in Nottingham. 'Oh that's unfortunate,' I wanted to say. But I didn't. I did a brief preliminary survey to try and estimate the probability of her being a con-artist. She was about 25 years of age, Caucasian and seemed employed, or at least well dressed enough to afford her own bus ticket home. The blue lanyard around her neck read 'staff' but was conspicuously missing an id badge. She certainly had enough money to buy an outfit which presented her as a working class, vaguely respectable, trustworthy member of society. So what was she doing hustling outside the QMC for small change? The picture didn't fit. She had the means, I was the opportunity, but what was the motive? If she was indeed a con-artist, wouldn't she have bigger fish to fry? I had a strong feeling I was being duped but didn't have enough evidence to back up my hunch.

In the end I decide to err on the side of caution. "How much does it cost to get to Derby?" I say. She looks me straight in the eyes. "About three pounds and forty pence," she replies. I reach for my wallet reluctantly. "Really? Are you sure? Thank you so much," she says, her voice flat and unconvincing, her words a hollow facsimile of gratitude. I deposit the coins one by one into her palm. "God bless you." She beams and hurries off before I have a chance to change my mind.

As I walk away I feel a peculiar bitterness rise up in my throat which begins to grow with every step, a deep resentfulness at having been taken advantage of. But why was this bothering me? I decided to analyse it. I knew full well that it was probably a scam and decided that the best course of action was to give her the benefit of the doubt. But then why was I still unhappy with the outcome? The answer is that I felt I could have handled it better. That I should have done more than throw money at a difficult situation in order to get out. There had to be a better way. A way of being trusting without being gullible - of being smart without being cynical - of being kind without being conned. Is it love if you only deal with them at arm's length?

A few days later I read in Jon Ronson's book, Lost at Sea, an account of real life superhero Phoenix Jones encountering a similar situation and his way of handling it. Below is an excerpt:

"Just then a young man approaches us. He's sweating, looking distressed. 'I've been in tears!' he yells.
        He tells us his story. He's here on vacation, his parents live a two-hour bus ride away in central Washington, and he's only $9.40 short for the fare home. Can Phoenix please give him $9.40?
        'I've been crying, dude,' he says. 'I've asked sixty or seventy people. Will you touch my heart, save my life, and give me nine dollars and forty cents?'
        Phoenix turns to me. 'You down for a car-ride adventure?' he says excitedly. 'We're going to drive the guy back to his parents!'
        The young man looks panicked. 'Honestly, nine dollars and forty cents is fine,' he says, backing away slightly.
        'No, no!' says Phoenix. 'We're going to drive you home! Where's your luggage?'
        'Um, in storage at the train station . . .' he says.
        'We'll meet you at the train station in ten minutes!' says Phoenix.

Thirty minutes later. The train station. The man hasn't showed up. Phoenix narrows his eyes. 'I think he was trying to scam us,' he says. 'Hmm!'"

---

Twenty years ago the following scene took place in one of the numerous prison yards of northern Russia. At seven o’clock in the morning the door of a cell was flung open and on its threshold stood a prison guard who addressed its inmates: “Citizens! The collective of this prison’s guards challenges you, the inmates, to socialist competition in cutting the lumber amassed in our yard.” In those parts there is no central heating, and the local police, in a manner of speaking, tax all the nearby lumber companies for one tenth of their produce. By the time I am describing, the prison yard looked like a veritable lumber yard: the piles were two to three stories high, dwarfing the onestoried quadrangle of the prison itself. The need for cutting was evident, although socialist competitions of this sort had happened before. “And what if I refuse to take part in this?” inquired one of the inmates. “Well, in that case no meals for you,” replied the guard. 

Then axes were issued to inmates, and the cutting started. Both prisoners and guards worked in earnest, and by noon all of them, especially the always underfed prisoners, were exhausted. A break was announced and people sat down to eat: except the fellow who asked the question. He kept swinging his axe. Both prisoners and guards exchanged jokes about him, something about Jews being normally regarded as smart people whereas this man…and so forth. After the break they resumed the work, although in a somewhat more flagging manner. By four o’clock the guards quit, since for them it was the end of their shift; a bit later the inmates stopped too. The man’s axe still kept swinging. Several times he was urged to stop, by both parties, but he paid no attention. It seemed as though he had acquired a certain rhythm he was unwilling to break; or was it a rhythm that possessed him? 

To the others, he looked like an automaton. By five o’clock, by six o’clock, the axe was still going up and down. Both guards and inmates were now watching him keenly, and the sardonic expression on their faces gradually gave way first to one of bewilderment and then to one of terror. By seven-thirty the man stopped, staggered into his cell, and fell asleep. For the rest of his stay in that prison, no call for socialist competition between guards and inmates was issued again, although the wood kept piling up.

— Joseph Brodsky, A Commencement Address

夏かしい

dromomania / cockpit error

It frightens me sometimes, how easy it is to get from one place to another. New York to L.A. Australia to the UK. Kuala Lumpur to Birmingham. These days, the trip can be made quite literally in your sleep. Doesn't it amaze you though, how ordinary and unremarkable the transition from one end of the earth to another feels - how few actual decisions you have to make - how stupendous and effortless it is to traverse seas and entire continents? Unimaginable distances obliterated in the span of three back-to-back feature length films.

Stumbling half-awake through airport terminals and waiting outside boarding gates - everyone looks tired. There's a trance-like monotony, a narcotic numbness to the whole affair. Order some tickets off the net, hand over your documents, copy down your name and address, hop in a car, stand in line, put one foot in front of the other, sit down and tune out for eight to fourteen hours. After a few trips you get used to the tedium and routine. It becomes white noise which your brain learns to tune out. Eyes automatically scanning the list of departures, muscle memory guiding your bleary eyed self efficiently through customs and security, your ticket hand rises reflexively to meet the air stewardess' smile. After a while, entering the airport begins to feel like entering a state of diminished consciousness - of hypnotic regression. It feels a little like being on one of those airport conveyor belts, standing still watching the listless world pass on by. You switch off and go on autopilot - action and consequence become uncoupled. You go through the motions without thinking. Paint by numbers. Next thing you know, you're in the UK. Malaysia. Wherever.

I only feel alive again once I step foot on a train. You can't switch off on a train because it requires you to actually participate. You have to look out for signs telling you when to get off. You have to make sure nobody steals your luggage. You have to figure out which is the next train to take, find out when it arrives and which platform it departs from. You have to pay attention. You have to stay awake. There's at least enough variation and risk to keep you on your toes and engaged, but with planes, everything is so streamlined and easy. Everything is so safe.

Nowadays, whenever I'm about to get on a plane, a part of me is afraid that my brain is so conditioned and accustomed to the anaesthetic stupor that my body will be taken over completely by pre-programmed operating procedure, and in that analgesic, unguarded state, something will interfere - something will go awry - I'll make one wrong step and wake up twelve hours later a world away from where I'm supposed to be.