Balloons
We're all balloons, filled full with helium, tied tight with string.
Floating up high with the clouds in the sky,
flying freely with the cumulonimbus and avoiding
the pointy tips of skyscrapers.
Companions of the stars and the moon,
gossipers with the Sun.
We think we know it all.
At least we probably do.
Age cannot catch us, she is too slow,
and invincible we float on,
so full of hot air,
and dreams.
And then one by one, my friends start falling
one by one, falling out of heaven,
their strings entangled in tiny knots, weighing
them down. They spin and dance and stall,
then plummet.
First Juliet, then George, then Wilson and Greg,
Peter fell, Scott fell, then Annie and Ted.
One by one, until you and I were all that were left,
but there many a cloud between us
and you drifted down south,
the wind blew you away,
tied to a string of books, scales and a stethoscope.
Then one by one, 'til I'm the only one alone up there,
but I didn't care.
I'm still free
though now old with less air,
to roam about the Earth, being blown, being blown
so aimlessly. Spectator to the passings and joinings,
to the mortarboards and gowns and the exchange of rings.
But, I don't care,
I'm not tied down. I am free.
The world is my cage,
and I shall float around
her aimlessly.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Aftermath
Aftermath
It's been a while since that wistful day,
when the planes flew high overhead
And dropped off that message on fifty-five A.
The playground still stands shellshocked and quite dead.
For two days all stood still, all calm and neat,
the virus slept well in Spring's warm blanket,
incubating, spawnin a great toxic treat,
and in Summer's heat, she did spring quite free,
a startling neurological agent,
invading, invading heart, soul and brain.
Work distracted from the pain. The surgeon
could not operate. Metastasising,
spreading, attacking poor amygdala.
Someday, I'll recover from this trauma...
It's been a while since that wistful day,
when the planes flew high overhead
And dropped off that message on fifty-five A.
The playground still stands shellshocked and quite dead.
For two days all stood still, all calm and neat,
the virus slept well in Spring's warm blanket,
incubating, spawnin a great toxic treat,
and in Summer's heat, she did spring quite free,
a startling neurological agent,
invading, invading heart, soul and brain.
Work distracted from the pain. The surgeon
could not operate. Metastasising,
spreading, attacking poor amygdala.
Someday, I'll recover from this trauma...
Stuck
Stuck
It would appear that I'm stuck in quagmire deep,
I've run this marathon before, thrice actually,
they all began so differently, at
different places, with different
routes and at different paces.
Yet, across the same marsh they passed. I thought
it quite shallow.
Not so I fear,
and now I'm stuck in the muck right here.
And I wonder what I was chasing? To run
so quick and blind, landing in such thicket deep,
or was I running away from something
like the sun? Rays of thought invading ev'ry
nook and cranny. It seemed so weird when
the sun lit up the world and darkened
my thoughts.
Lot was wise to run away,
should I flee this destruction or stay?
Standing there in mire slowly cooking,
I guess I'll turn around and face whatever's coming,
And maybe that will drown out the swarm's buzzing.
It would appear that I'm stuck in quagmire deep,
I've run this marathon before, thrice actually,
they all began so differently, at
different places, with different
routes and at different paces.
Yet, across the same marsh they passed. I thought
it quite shallow.
Not so I fear,
and now I'm stuck in the muck right here.
And I wonder what I was chasing? To run
so quick and blind, landing in such thicket deep,
or was I running away from something
like the sun? Rays of thought invading ev'ry
nook and cranny. It seemed so weird when
the sun lit up the world and darkened
my thoughts.
Lot was wise to run away,
should I flee this destruction or stay?
Standing there in mire slowly cooking,
I guess I'll turn around and face whatever's coming,
And maybe that will drown out the swarm's buzzing.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Connexions
A week ago, I attended the first Rite of Christian Initation for Youth (RCIY) camp for the year. It is a first camp that the enquirers, the ones enquiring about the Catholic faith attend, and it is a fun camp with light talks and many games to play, a sort of welcome and bonding session. As per usual, with every camp, everyone has to put up an ‘affirmation envelope’ wherein you write little things to other campers to affirm them and encourage them along. One of the befrienders sent me this:
Dear David,
Thank you for taking the time to come down for all the RCIY meetings and camps, you really have a way of relating to [enquirers/new people] that no one else does, and I could definitely learn some of that.
[…]
God Bless,
B
As a read the note after camp, I was stunned by the words ‘have a way of relating to them that no one else does.’ I guess I was caught a bit by surprise. I surely do not deserve this praise. Of all the things David is, I don’t think connecting with people even rhymes with any of the attributes. If it were, the previous entry wouldn’t have been composed. I just saw a need during the camp and fulfilled it just as I had been trained in many previous camps.
During a camp, there will always be people who are caught on the fringe, hanging by themselves, mostly in groups of two or three. During my time in confirmation camps, the cause was usually not being from the same school as the dominant group, ie SJI, CHIJ, or SJII. During RCIY camp, it’s usually the enquirers because they are new and don’t quite know anyone there, even after the few first sessions, they still don’t know anyone. The befrienders (RCIY graduates and confirmed Catholics) and other facilitators have already been there a year and are pretty much a close group, so usually the quieter enquirers still feel a bit awkward joining in their conversations and antics.
So, here are people who’d like to be part of a group, all it simply takes is providing the group and making a connexion. It isn’t really anything special really. All it takes is the right questions, and a charitable ear and keeping fingers crossed that you can make a connexion. All you need is to treat people with basic human dignity, then, the first step is always to start the talk. Anyone can do that!
Furthermore, if they’d only known what had transpired in the past few weeks, I highly doubt they would agree about this relating to people business. I made a promise to treat everyone I meet with that basic human dignity but I think I have constantly failed at doing it.
A few weeks ago, I was sentence…given a week long duty. This is the sort of duty where you essentially stay in your bunk all day doing nothing and waiting for an activation that will never come by enemies that don’t exist. As you can imagine ADHD-addled me was as bored as bats in a tree awaiting for nightfall to party. Not to mention being thrown to such a duty. (For those of you playing the home game, ADHD and boredom don’t mix AT ALL. Think napalm and water.) So there I was, being depressed and antisocial and completely not intending to make any new friends at all. I just wanted to stay low and go home. Pancake breakfast and the Tridentine at the end of the week were the only things getting me through.
Unfortunately, God didn’t intend for me to alone the entire week, I had a roommate. I remember when I found out that he was not a driver, but a transport supervisor like me, I felt instantly warmer towards him. I was stunned for a moment after that, I couldn’t believe that I am really such an arrogant bastard. In the first place I didn’t want to share the room with anyone, and I most certainly feel like making conversations with drivers. I couldn’t believe that I had stereotyped them as being unworthy or incapable of conversation. I know that with my establishment there is a necessity of keeping some distance from them, for they are after all my men, but this seemed almost ridiculous. I admit that often, we are on completely different wavelengths, but the essentials are still the same. Everyone has passions, hobbies, plans for the weekend, a family, friends. Was I really too thick, too high and mighty, too stuck up to have conversations with them? I guess this is something that I shall have to settle, because these are the people that I shall be dealing with day in and day out and they are good people, however this is for another day.
It turns out my roommie was a happy clappy tamil Pentecostal. From day two onwards, he insisted on speaking to me in falsetto, claiming it was his normal speaking voice. He chose the week to begin his foray into guitar and I spent the week listening to him play only down strummed chord progressions and singing Christians songs in tamil. By day three, I had almost as many screws loose as he did, I had had a dream about having a webcam conversation with one of my quadriceps muscles. It was sipping tea from a teacup with it’s pinky out and enquiring about my wellbeing. It was a very very surreal week.
That said I came prepared for the week, I had brought several nonfiction (big mistake) books to camp to read, he on the other hand, was clearly socially awkward, and had nothing to do, he was probably as bored as I was. Me being me, and well trained, I did make conversation with him, but it soon became quite apparent that I wouldn’t be able to establish a connexion with him. He on the other hand, somehow managed to do so, though I suspect it was a matter of transference. Loneliness does that to you, desire for company transferred upon the nearest possible thing. It’s probably why I endured four days of falsetto (he didn’t do this to anyone else). And this is where I truly could have been better! He is a really nice guy, with a good heart. He insisted on treating me to dinner despite being a poorer financial situation.
It was weird talking to him, it was mostly him trying to make the conversation and me replying as curtly as a I could. I could have clearly showed him a much greater amount of charity. I could have shown him more love. I felt really bad on the last night, when he kept asking me to talk to him, but I just had nothing to say to him. He even requested to meet up sometime in the future. I don’t know if I have it in me to acquiesce to his request. That said, I don’t think anyone in the army has actually given him that much of a listening ear before. If S reads this, we may have only known each other for a week, but I’m sorry for being such a lousy friend.
It makes me wonder, what exactly is this special way of relating to people is? I can’t relate to my men, I know what they’re going through, I know what they’re interested in, I know the common topics, but I just can’t connect with them at all. Let’s not even talk about about my colleagues because work is easily a common topic of conversation. Normal people, from my tier of society, the educated ones, I have nothing in common. Small talk? I am horrible at initiating it, I much prefer listening to people. I hope that I will find some way in which I can relate to people.
Clearly, I have much to work on, as a person, as a friend. Communication is so vital in my desired vocation. And I fervently pray that one day I shall live up to that affirmation letter.
Dear David,
Thank you for taking the time to come down for all the RCIY meetings and camps, you really have a way of relating to [enquirers/new people] that no one else does, and I could definitely learn some of that.
[…]
God Bless,
B
As a read the note after camp, I was stunned by the words ‘have a way of relating to them that no one else does.’ I guess I was caught a bit by surprise. I surely do not deserve this praise. Of all the things David is, I don’t think connecting with people even rhymes with any of the attributes. If it were, the previous entry wouldn’t have been composed. I just saw a need during the camp and fulfilled it just as I had been trained in many previous camps.
During a camp, there will always be people who are caught on the fringe, hanging by themselves, mostly in groups of two or three. During my time in confirmation camps, the cause was usually not being from the same school as the dominant group, ie SJI, CHIJ, or SJII. During RCIY camp, it’s usually the enquirers because they are new and don’t quite know anyone there, even after the few first sessions, they still don’t know anyone. The befrienders (RCIY graduates and confirmed Catholics) and other facilitators have already been there a year and are pretty much a close group, so usually the quieter enquirers still feel a bit awkward joining in their conversations and antics.
So, here are people who’d like to be part of a group, all it simply takes is providing the group and making a connexion. It isn’t really anything special really. All it takes is the right questions, and a charitable ear and keeping fingers crossed that you can make a connexion. All you need is to treat people with basic human dignity, then, the first step is always to start the talk. Anyone can do that!
Furthermore, if they’d only known what had transpired in the past few weeks, I highly doubt they would agree about this relating to people business. I made a promise to treat everyone I meet with that basic human dignity but I think I have constantly failed at doing it.
A few weeks ago, I was sentence…given a week long duty. This is the sort of duty where you essentially stay in your bunk all day doing nothing and waiting for an activation that will never come by enemies that don’t exist. As you can imagine ADHD-addled me was as bored as bats in a tree awaiting for nightfall to party. Not to mention being thrown to such a duty. (For those of you playing the home game, ADHD and boredom don’t mix AT ALL. Think napalm and water.) So there I was, being depressed and antisocial and completely not intending to make any new friends at all. I just wanted to stay low and go home. Pancake breakfast and the Tridentine at the end of the week were the only things getting me through.
Unfortunately, God didn’t intend for me to alone the entire week, I had a roommate. I remember when I found out that he was not a driver, but a transport supervisor like me, I felt instantly warmer towards him. I was stunned for a moment after that, I couldn’t believe that I am really such an arrogant bastard. In the first place I didn’t want to share the room with anyone, and I most certainly feel like making conversations with drivers. I couldn’t believe that I had stereotyped them as being unworthy or incapable of conversation. I know that with my establishment there is a necessity of keeping some distance from them, for they are after all my men, but this seemed almost ridiculous. I admit that often, we are on completely different wavelengths, but the essentials are still the same. Everyone has passions, hobbies, plans for the weekend, a family, friends. Was I really too thick, too high and mighty, too stuck up to have conversations with them? I guess this is something that I shall have to settle, because these are the people that I shall be dealing with day in and day out and they are good people, however this is for another day.
It turns out my roommie was a happy clappy tamil Pentecostal. From day two onwards, he insisted on speaking to me in falsetto, claiming it was his normal speaking voice. He chose the week to begin his foray into guitar and I spent the week listening to him play only down strummed chord progressions and singing Christians songs in tamil. By day three, I had almost as many screws loose as he did, I had had a dream about having a webcam conversation with one of my quadriceps muscles. It was sipping tea from a teacup with it’s pinky out and enquiring about my wellbeing. It was a very very surreal week.
That said I came prepared for the week, I had brought several nonfiction (big mistake) books to camp to read, he on the other hand, was clearly socially awkward, and had nothing to do, he was probably as bored as I was. Me being me, and well trained, I did make conversation with him, but it soon became quite apparent that I wouldn’t be able to establish a connexion with him. He on the other hand, somehow managed to do so, though I suspect it was a matter of transference. Loneliness does that to you, desire for company transferred upon the nearest possible thing. It’s probably why I endured four days of falsetto (he didn’t do this to anyone else). And this is where I truly could have been better! He is a really nice guy, with a good heart. He insisted on treating me to dinner despite being a poorer financial situation.
It was weird talking to him, it was mostly him trying to make the conversation and me replying as curtly as a I could. I could have clearly showed him a much greater amount of charity. I could have shown him more love. I felt really bad on the last night, when he kept asking me to talk to him, but I just had nothing to say to him. He even requested to meet up sometime in the future. I don’t know if I have it in me to acquiesce to his request. That said, I don’t think anyone in the army has actually given him that much of a listening ear before. If S reads this, we may have only known each other for a week, but I’m sorry for being such a lousy friend.
It makes me wonder, what exactly is this special way of relating to people is? I can’t relate to my men, I know what they’re going through, I know what they’re interested in, I know the common topics, but I just can’t connect with them at all. Let’s not even talk about about my colleagues because work is easily a common topic of conversation. Normal people, from my tier of society, the educated ones, I have nothing in common. Small talk? I am horrible at initiating it, I much prefer listening to people. I hope that I will find some way in which I can relate to people.
Clearly, I have much to work on, as a person, as a friend. Communication is so vital in my desired vocation. And I fervently pray that one day I shall live up to that affirmation letter.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
I need to talk to you.
Starry night, disquiet'd skies,
Hearts beating, walking towards the other,
While silence on the cold street lies.
A midnight meeting.
Little notes echo and fly,
(Disturbing the chaos of my mind),
From the little music box,
(Deflecting the silence in my mind.)
Nervous looks, uneasy smiles
Hiding hidden frowns.
An inkling.
Look in to her eyes,
Mutter mumbled words,
The wordsmith's brush is dry.
'I like you.'
And it's over. Silence pursues.
The quest now lost, yet some peace found.
Retreat to a safe place, mend the wounds.
I shall miss you.
Hearts beating, walking towards the other,
While silence on the cold street lies.
A midnight meeting.
Little notes echo and fly,
(Disturbing the chaos of my mind),
From the little music box,
(Deflecting the silence in my mind.)
Nervous looks, uneasy smiles
Hiding hidden frowns.
An inkling.
Look in to her eyes,
Mutter mumbled words,
The wordsmith's brush is dry.
'I like you.'
And it's over. Silence pursues.
The quest now lost, yet some peace found.
Retreat to a safe place, mend the wounds.
I shall miss you.
Bee
Bee
The warm airless morning brought you out.
Tottering around the foliage,
Carrying out your worker duties,
Little bee, little bee,
Buzz, buzz, buzzing out and about,
And all around me,
So busy, landing on my green sleeve.
What do you hope to find Little Miss Bee?
I am no tree,
I am not full of sweet nectar,
Nor have I any flowers to
Attract thee.
The warm airless morning brought you out.
Tottering around the foliage,
Carrying out your worker duties,
Little bee, little bee,
Buzz, buzz, buzzing out and about,
And all around me,
So busy, landing on my green sleeve.
What do you hope to find Little Miss Bee?
I am no tree,
I am not full of sweet nectar,
Nor have I any flowers to
Attract thee.
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