Happy, tinged with sadness, is the best feeling.

I’ve been really happy recently. I’m not entirely sure why, but I like the feeling. It’s bubbly and warm, and the kind of thing you want to spread around. It’s almost made me a more open, generous person, which makes me even happier. I enjoy what I do more. I find more meaning in what I do. And that also feeds on itself and brings more happiness.

But if it is possible for such peace to be contaminated, then I think it might be. Unfortunately, feeling such happiness has brought me back into touch with other positive emotions, which I did admittedly try to prevent myself from feeling because they inevitably came tinged with a bit of regret. Camaraderie, for example, is tinged with the regret of it ending. Love is tinged with pain, especially in instances such as now. So I might not be as over it as I thought I was. Hmm. Well, they say the first step to recovery is acceptance. And then there’s that girl in my PHL100 tutorial… Eh, let’s not go there. I think what it is is that I’m finally happy, but have nobody really to share it with. I have spiritual and emotional wealth at last, but nobody to share in my enjoyment of life. Just life. Not the satisfaction of learning or the thrill of a fight, but the simple, bone-deep pleasure of living.

Just when I find the one thing that really matters, I’m faced with the fact that that’s really all I’ve got. And so, my joy is tinged blue.


I really have become old and crusty.

One of my favourite things about having a blog has been the opportunity to track my own character development. University seems to have been a hotbed for it. As I mentioned in my return to the blogosphere, I feel like I’ve grown and or changed a lot since September. Most of that change has been in becoming more open. New ideas. New knowledge. New friends. New experiences. But through it all I’ve managed to stay me. Though I’d argue with Brian about the self and its relation to change (it’s called character development, dear), I will concede that some changes are unwelcome. For example, I used to be able to bottle up attraction and throw it away. I will concede to have had feelings for others in the past, sure, but it was always a long process and one I usually wound up ignoring anyway. Old me did NOT find himself entranced by a pretty pair of green eyes. Dammit. I get that this is a “normal thing,” but I hate normal. I need my self-control back.

A free verse history of the last month.

In the last month, I tried to reconnect myself

With my original gifts. Not those of intellect

Or strength, but rather strength

Of a different kind.

Strength of heart, the power

To open one’s arms to the world.

Such a power as I was born with

I resented, and lost.

But now in meditation

find once more.

To laugh once more, to love

You and everybody, so refreshing

But brings, like sweet summer wind

The scent of thunder and rain.

A hole in a soul, my own,

The lost cries of a wayward friend

searching for a purpose.

The pain of others, bound up

In their wonder and joy

Comes back to me and makes me want

To care just a little more.

But deepest bites the sight

Of broken people gathered, pariahs,

and in their midst

two not-quite-halves

struggle to form a whole.

I’m Back!

Exactly what it says on the tin. I’m back. Miss me? I did. I missed writing. I need it. So I’m going to force myself to keep it up. University has been so busy these last four months that I thought my brain would explode. But it didn’t, so clearly I need to try harder! Wahaha!

Hmm, on the serious side though, a lot has happened in four months. I grew up a bit, I think. My dreams are all the same, sure, but they’re a little more real, a little more defined. I’ve learned so much in the last semester, about me and others and just about stuff in general, whether academic or physical or spiritual in nature. I feel a little less lonely in some ways, and a little more lonely in others. And I’ve leaned to be okay with feeling that way, and others. My problems in life began when I cut out my emotions. I know why I did it, and I’d do it again. But I like feeling alive again. I love life. It’s funny, you know. We spend our childhoods railing against tradition and the teachings of our elders, only to embrace them al over again come adulthood. When I was young, I always wondered how my grandparents and my aunt could be so happy, even after all that had happened to them over the course of their lives. Yesterday, at my grandmother’s grave, I think I figured it out. It’s because there’s always a reason to be happy. Think about it. Even at your lowest, you can still think to yourself “I’m alive, and somewhere in the world, something is beautiful.” Whether it’s a lover’s smile or a child’s laughter, a field of flowers or the taste of strawberries, there is something to be happy about. And there will be something else to be happy about tomorrow, and the next day, and every day thereafter.

I remembered a lot of other things at that chunk of rock as well, but those can be kept until later. For now, I am alive, and well, and happy. Tomorrow will be a new day, and next week will be a new year. I have my thanks to give and my apologies to make. And after? Afterwards, I can take another step forwards.


What Man Was Not Meant To Know

I feel conflicted about that concept. On one hand, I wish to know everything. On the other, I realize that I never can. The simultaneous reading of Faustus and an overview of quantum physics has set me on an odd train of thought, or perhaps several, overlapping one another and appearing to be the same. Well, it’s all the same to me.

What is forbidden knowledge? The nature of the universe, I think, might be such a concept. Once one gets past a certain subatomic level, human logic ceases to apply. Was that, perhaps, done on purpose? Is there a greater cosmic scheme at work here, to prevent mankind from reaching too far, to stop us from delving too deep? Black holes, which some posit might be gateways to another world, are another such vacuum of reason. The border between the light of life and the emptiness of death has been coloured in with shades of grey. We mortals, bound to the third dimension, adrift in the fourth as a blind man is cast out to sea, can but feel our way forward, and only forward. We know time is there, but what is it, really? What would it be to see time, not just blunder through it? If I could see time, and I looked at you, what would I see? Could I even comprehend it with the mind I have now? It could be infinite! I might see all that you ever where and might have been, and all that you might yet become. Is that knowledge forbidden to me, then, by the very nature of the feeble vessel which I call my flesh?

Why, though? Why are we born unable to transcend our mortal nature? Why can we not shine? The brain, I read, is a fantastically plastic organ. Might it be possible, then, to push it to greater heights? What therapy or meditation might we use to perceive infinity? I am, I am told, intelligent. My power allows me to use my mind to model many senses which I myself do not possess. I can see it, the path of growth that something might take, might have already taken. With concentration I might overlap thought with sight, such that I might gaze upon impossible things, dream impossible dreams. I can, if I let myself, feel that which another person feels, though it is painful to do so. Perspective is a toy for me. Yet it is forbidden to even an individual of my not-insignificant power to seek beyond the gates of death, to plunge into the roots of creation. And greater men than me have tried, and are trying even now.

How might we gain this forbidden knowledge? There is knowledge not forbidden by nature or by divinity that we still may not access, for the taboos of man are still in place upon the experiments that might gain us this information. Ought these to remain in place? Should “cursed necromancy” be forever consigned to the realm of fairy tales and nightmares, never to be brought out of the story books by science? Can our technology not rival even the meanest sorcerer of legend? What physic might cure death? What theriac might heal a broken heart? If we sought it in the proper places, might we find our panacea? Mastery of life and death is not, I think, an achievement forbidden to us by reality, as might be the secrets of time and creation, but rather locked away by our own sentiments. As for time and space, these too might someday fall to us.

What think you, Pluto?

Seemingly Pointless

I’m going to go off on this rant because it’s been in the back of my mind for a bit and a recent conversation with a friend of mine set the whole thing alight, as it were. Someone tell me: what, precisely, is the purpose of a romantic relationship? And no, this is not the bitterness talking, this is an actual question. Seriously, why bother?

Granted, I’ve never been in a relationship, but from where I’m sitting it seems genuinely silly. I’ve seen good relationships, bad relationships, and a few that were just plain bizarre. But I’ve never quite understood why people go through all the trouble. Is it for physical comfort? That, perhaps, I might be able to understand. I’ve needed a hug before. But pretty much anyone will give you a hug if you ask. Is it for understanding? What human being really ever understands another? Companionship? Friends. Only reason I can really think of is for reproduction and possibly tax benefits.

Gah. Well, I’ll figure this out eventually.


Echo, echo, please don’t go,

Don’t abandon me to cold and snow,

I need your whisper in my ear,

Though my own voice is all I’ll hear.


Shadow, shadow, please don’t run,

Don’t leave me to the scorching sun,

I need your silent company,

Though you are but part of me.


Mirror, mirror, please don’t fly,

Don’t forsake me here beneath the sky,

I need your steady, patient care,

Though my face is all you ever wear.


Echo, shadow, mirror, stay,

Don’t desert me for a single day,

Whether through growth or through decline,

The only heart I trust is mine.