Life asks us all questions, but it seems that we’ve led ourselves to believe that there’s only one right answer– marking the rest as wrong.
If someone asked me something along the lines of “Why are you writing?” a few months ago, I would’ve said that I’m simply bored. As time went on, I became dissatisfied with my own answer. In ‘Thoughts-1’, I recognized it as a lie of omission.
Boredom alone cannot justify the amount of hours I’ve put into this profession. I wrote that this hobby of mine became an essential one, one that satisfies my more multifarious desires. In ‘Outlook’, I echoed this sentiment– I’m unfortunately not as self-aware as I thought I was.
I’ve already answered this question, but I’d like to answer it again with a different one. I write because it’s a fun and interesting hobby for me. I enjoy writing as I marvel at my own words, the same way a photographer appreciates every photo they take.
I’ve never been one for making simple checklists or planners to track my life, I just don’t feel any motivation. Writing makes it more enjoyable for me, as the act itself already gives enough energy to write for hours on end.
Overthinking is a trait of mine, and it’s a trait that I love when it comes to writing– the past few days being full of topics and words for me to write. I like putting my thoughts onto the pen, to engrave them somewhere.
Apart from that, I like it when people actually read my essays– but let’s be real here. I recognize that there is a fundamental difference between my public hobby and other people’s hobbies. Their hobbies can be appreciated by simply looking at it, while my essays are to be read– making it harder to be recognized.
Now, this doesn’t diminish their craft nor does it elevate my own. An artist should be assessed by their proficiency in their craft. A swan may swim elegantly, but it can’t hold a pen. It seems that I’ve taken my sweet time understanding this disparity.
Then again, you don’t have to understand to necessarily feel. While my emotion remains suppressed by reason, it still feels like I’ve walked into this somber headspace by being miffed. At the same time, some of my words burn even brighter as a result of this enlightenment.
My anger never had any foundation to begin with yet it still burned. The only reason why it hasn’t been blotted out by my shame, is that those emotions were true and aren’t wholly unjustified.
In ‘Doubt’, I wrote about idealization and the gaps it left in our vision. I’ve been remiss, as it’s not just places that we idealize. If we can think of a thought, then it can surely be idealized. People exist in our minds like mental images.
When we paint their portrait, some of us add our own touch to this painting– tainting it with our ideals and hopes. Unfortunately, we paint too well– leaving no difference to discern between the drawn and real version.
Around three years ago, I learnt this lesson and chose to forgo people’s eyes in my paintings as a result– to leave it incomplete. Never again shall I subject myself to this deception, as I’d hate to hurt myself again with the same broken glass.
This ties into my habit of assuming the worst as well, as it’s far easier to vilify others without actually interacting with them. To malign a person in this way is no different than prejudice, making it the second extreme for this painting class.
One of my maxims is to be moderate in most cases, as anything in excess is no different than poison.
From ‘Trifecta’, I began to upload my essays onto my personal story to display it– a habit that I’ve borrowed from others. It appears that I’ve become a bit too self-conscious as a result. I was originally going to end this practice with this essay, but I believe that I’ve been mistaken.
I dream of representing the people yet I dare not represent myself? I cannot represent the people if I cower from my own reflection. I am averse to attention by nature, but my ego demands it.
If I am to lead men in the future, then I cannot cower away from the circumstances at hand. I have no just cause to withhold my writings, as I wrote in the same manner that I’ll die– upright. With this, I’ve chosen my ego.
Alongside this comes another aspect that caught my eye. I’ve given a person’s presence a disproportionate amount of weight, another reason that I had this dilemma to begin with. For the most part, I’m nothing more than a face in this sea of people– so why should I be worried about their presence?
I am unique in my own right, but that virtue does not elevate me in their eyes– nor should this recognition matter in my judgement. I’ve chained myself to air and have only just now realized it. Hubris has clouded my vision, making me think that I am treated differently.
And so, I’ll be troubling you with these stories of mine. If you have any disagreements, make them known as I feel a bit argumentative today. Speaking of which, I should get a leather glove to chuck it at someone’s chest, as it’s been a long time since I’ve had a spat.
Homogeneous thoughts only serve to dull the edge of my words. A blade cannot sharpen its edge with itself, and I relish the challenge.
Apart from that, it’s far too early for me to begin weighing people. The contours of their eyes are still missing, and I fear that it won’t be finished in this lifetime– for a person’s eyes are a window to their souls.
In ‘Doubt’, I introduced my standard of impartiality. A trait that served as the basis for a now defunct system. You see, I never accounted for my heart– ignoring this truth for quite some time now. A truth that forced me to abandon it. So bear with me as I attempt to pen this.
In my eyes, people are learning opportunities. My attitude is an ignorant one, as any presumptions of mine are useless. I’d rather make some mistakes and learn from that, as I won’t delude myself. It’s one thing to be ignorant, and it’s another to pretend you’re knowledgeable.
Another realization I’ve had is that the impartiality that I refer to is a baseline, as I can’t be impartial in the truest sense. After all, our behavior is dependent on the people and the groups that we’re interacting with.
I want to be consistent with my behavior rather than being a window shopper– constantly swapping principles like a chameleon. So while I can’t be fair with people, I’ll treat them equally. People are special, but I don’t want to give the impression of them being too special.
I recognize boundaries and while I may not see them, I’d loathe to cross them and taint my image with bias.
So when I act, I use other people’s actions and behavior to judge whether I’m within those lines. If I can’t, then I’ll substitute that with my own judgement. If everything seems to be normal, then I’ll treat it as a precedent unless I realize that it was a mistake after a later analysis.
I can’t deny that I do prefer some people, but they still exist within those boundaries– leaving my hands tied. In fact, I’d be more careful as it seems that I’m prone to making more mistakes with them.
With this in mind, I prefer to think in groups rather than people when it comes to interacting. Ofcourse, this is dependent on my personal judgement. But for the most part, we’re a big group of small groups– individuals are an exception.
I find myself to be in this group, as I see its shadow in every person I have a decent interaction with. It’s a bit annoying since I can’t find anyone to be my eyes, a person with an observer’s perspective, but it’s novel in how people are so interconnected.
It’s not that I don’t like dealing with individuals. I love it. But, my risk-reward analysis is skewed since I’ve already experienced the downsides. Some people aren’t worth the cost and I can’t afford to concentrate my stupidity with them. I’d rather dilute its impact instead.
I draw my lines and my estimation of other’s lines, creating a dotted line– as this line changes in real-time. After all, my actions carry an inherent risk– it’s up to me to determine the level of it. If my relationship with another person changes, then the boundaries can be redrawn.
The dotted line’s basis is my judgement. The basis of boundaries is the recognized status of a relationship, be it one-sided or two-sided. These strings may be tangled and messy, so it’s my prerogative to straighten and define them– making them legible.
Now, these groups of people in itself are confusing. People can belong to more than one group, giving me a headache. When I deal with a person, I have to be conscious of the afterimages that exist elsewhere.
For that reason, I can’t cut these strings– the blade will only leave it flayed. I cannot erase their presence from my life without burning the entire web. Burning it is no different than burning myself, as I am the center of this web that I perceive.
My basis for forming these groups is a bit arbitrary, as no single classification could do a person justice. When it comes to my peers, one of the most consistent classifications I have is the timing that I interact with them. When I say timing, I refer to class periods and extracurriculars– there’s more but I haven’t gotten to that point yet.
The word “Peer” has many meanings. For this context, I refer to those similar in age. It is in itself, a classification of age as I can’t treat my elders nor children the same. The first receives conditional respect while the second receives unconditional protection.
I don’t want to delve deeper in this, as I can’t exhaust myself too quickly.
I also have to be mindful of myself, as I am a superimposition composed of all of these interactions. I prefer containing each of these images in their own place, to avoid ripples caused by a local change.
In one group, I prefer being silent before I gradually wind up– to understand before I act. These groups tend to be more active and energetic, making me feel like an old man watching– a confused one. Give me enough time and I’ll match that vibe, as I just have to adjust and warm up with that spark– to find my place in this arrangement.
In another, I am the noise– a reckless choice solidified into precedent. I work in reverse, as I have to temper my image after that initial bout of stupidity. These groups tend to be calmer and more passive, making me feel immature from inertia. Eventually, I’ll fall into line with my own streak– being partially compatible.
In the last group, I simply don’t exist. This tends to occur when I find myself to be incompatible entirely or if the group lacks the elements associated with it. I may be in it, but I am not a part of it. It’s better to disengage entirely than to waste my energy.
Ofcourse, it’s not like I’m limited by these three archetypes. Like I said before, my behavior is dependent on people and groups that I interact with. These three images are my understanding of myself in three particular groups. Each image is distinct in its own way, but my face endures when they’re superimposed.
When I say a mistake, I refer to an action that I recognize as a harmful one. I might as well tear a page out of the past. Around 2-3 years ago, I used to delete messages that I sent if I didn’t like it when speaking to a certain person. I asked them if they did the same, and they said that they don’t delete their messages– and so I was ashamed of my lack of confidence and candor.
From then on, I started to make my messages indelible– but it seems that I’ve regressed a bit. Once again, my worries about external impressions have eroded my conduct– so I must reaffirm this. If I am not confident in my own words, then I’d rather not speak at all– for what good is speech if it’s hollow?
There’s a few other pages here, but that belongs to my essays. In ‘Companies’, I said that texting is confusing and that a person’s physical and digital images are separate.
‘People’ echoed that sentiment by stating that a person’s fickle tendencies are magnified, giving cause to separate those two images. The rationale behind this was that nuance dies online.
I eventually recognized that I’ve been making excuses for someone. As a result, I reclaimed my words in ‘Tones’– as I’ve come to realize that I’ve been asking the wrong person, sentiments blinding my judgement.
From this, I learnt to be concise online and to minimize my online interactions with most– as I refuse to walk into this mistake again. Apart from that, I simply adapted to the time gap. I still find it weird for people to respond after several hours, but it’s normal enough for me to not raise a brow. It’s only tolerable up to a certain extent, once again woven into ‘Tones’.
It’s for the best that I stick to actual people as people are more reliable when they’re beating flesh and blood. The same goes for resolving conflicts, as I can’t afford the luxury of misinterpretation. I’ve already shown my disdain for miscommunication tropes, so you better believe that I won’t walk on that path.
Conflicts are also annoying to deal with in the first place, as I have to contain it to only affect my relationship with a specific person– to avoid this mess branching onto my other images. I can’t rant nor can I find an intermediary. After all, people are interconnected and I’ve learnt that it’s deeper than my initial thoughts.
I refuse to invite others into my reckoning, especially when they’re no different than liabilities in my eyes. It’s a bit odd considering how I want to be reliable, for others to trust me– when I’m miserly with my own.
With this, I’m going to draw the curtains on this segment. I’ve already exhausted my thoughts on this topic, it’s time for me to move on.
Speaking of which, I feel like I’m becoming older– my thoughts being representative of this. I’ve probably grown more in these few months of writing than a year before writing. When I write, I have a topic in mind– so everything that you read here is synthesized in real-time.
I may have these thoughts, but only when I write do I actually start pondering further into this rabbit hole. A pondering that creates an understanding that I can explain instead of grasping for straws.
As a result, I may appear more intellectually inclined– but it’s exclusive to my writing. My writing is what elevates me for the time being, becoming a platform for me to stand on.
For the past few days while shoveling, I’ve been listening to “Hamilton: The Musical”. It seems that I resemble Hamilton in a way. Our career paths are the same, from Military to Politics. But, as the ladies said “That’s not where the resemblance stops”.
Hamilton was actually a source of inspiration when I first set my writing goal for the year. His non-stop writing combined with his feeling of always running out of time led him to write 1,000,000+ words. Hopefully, I will write more than him in this lifetime– as this man’s syntax is one that I can’t hope to match for now. Eventually I might become his equal, but that time has many years before I could actually pose a challenge.
I’d draw more connections to him, but I have no intentions of binding myself to this shadow or of any other historical figure. Their paths have already been tested, and I have my own to walk. If I am stuck in their visage, then my path is forfeit– replaced by an imitation.
Let’s not pretend that these men don’t have their vices, for heaven knows what they’ve done in the moonlight. In Hamilton’s life, family was an afterthought that he sought to keep. Instead, he squandered his wife and publicized his betrayal– her blood smeared onto every newspaper.
A pity that she couldn’t compete against the love he had for the Nation. After all, the man was a merchant of death during the war– seeking his demise in every battle. Thank Washington for chaining his man, as only he could stop Hamilton in those times.
He established the precedent of accepting duels, only to take shots at the sky– a precedent that took both father and son. His hubris is what truly killed him, for he only understood the true gravity of his duel after he fell.
With this, I must wonder– what did he learn from Phillip’s death? For they both died on the same ground, shot their guns into the same sky, and believed that virtue would save them. It seems that they forgot. Their duels weren’t righteous ones, they were duels of grievances.
I can’t deny that Hamilton made a serious effort for his family. But, he is a founding father first–second to being a father and husband. He left us with far more than what he left his family behind, and so I must thank him for that.
To walk on Hamilton’s path is to inherit everything– even his sins. After all, one cannot be partial when it comes to inheritance. And so, I reject his path. At most, I may tear it down and use it as material for my own path. If I have to consign myself to damnation, then that burden starts from me.
Apart from that, I’m simply not him– I can’t wrong others the way he did it. In ‘Outlook’, I spoke about a person’s providence and that I treat them like cards. In my eyes, death is more certain than a soulmate. I know death exists in my draw pile, the same can’t be said for love.
Forget having an affair, I am skeptical of my own fate to begin with. I don’t lack confidence in myself, but the dealer we call Life. I already have a questionable hand, so I can only guess about the horrors waiting for me in that pile.
I’d love dueling if it still existed today, but it’s been outlawed long ago. Unlike Hamilton, my moral conscience has fewer scruples when it comes to death. When two people, they have to recognize that they’ve waived their own lives.
What is the point of a duel if your opponent throws it by virtue-signaling– vilifying what was a mutual arrangement? Best believe that I’d have no quarter if it was still legal.
If you have no intent on shedding blood, then reject it– for there are other ways to show virtue without throwing your life away. Wasting your life away, especially in this manner is perhaps one of the more severe crimes against our existence.
If I was in Hamilton’s time, I would’ve valued my life a bit less. There’s far more for me to gain with my life if I was in the past. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for today. There’s already battalions of men who pledged their lives away, cheapening the value of my own.
Before I go, I’ve a few more words to say. In ‘Thoughts#2’, I made plans to write ‘Crescent’. It’s a piece that is going to be the crystallization of my knowledge and understanding towards my religion.
After thinking a bit further, I’ve come to realize that it signifies a different type of risk– one that I can’t bear. So with this verdict, I decided that I won’t be publishing it anytime within the foreseeable future. I have different plans for it now, as I don’t want to limit myself by worrying about public reception– a factor especially important for that particular piece.
In it’s place, I’ll write an excerpt– ‘Moonlight’. If I am to take a step back, then I’ll take another step elsewhere. Take ‘Repeating’ as an example. I couldn’t publish it, but ‘Thoughts#1’ served as it’s vehicle.
Now, with this– I bid you adieu. I’ve run out of words to write, so I’ll take my leave.
Author’s note: I exchanged my writing time for an opportunity, so it’s now going to take me longer to write pieces. The butterfly effect here is that it only took me two mornings and one evening to write this.
I lost my footing for a second, but I’ve now reestablished a stronger one. Since this only took me a day to write, it might be a bit unpolished. I didn’t write my ideas down before writing this, so there’s probably a few topics that I’ve forgotten to add here.
I’ll add them into the next piece when I do so. My current pace is good since it’s a cycle of accumulation and release. I don’t have much else to say, as I’ve already written it. As always, congratulations on reaching the end of this essay.