Answers are intriguing. Nay, answers are addicting. So then, does looking for that next hit makes me a junkie? I suppose it does, in a way.

Life appears to be moving so slow these days, and yet, I feel so rushed. I feel the need to slow down, to clutch to my books and retreat to solitude. Why the scrambled thoughts? Why the lack of focus, or rather, the lack to desire to focus on the necessary tasks? Distractions certainly aren’t hard to come by. I’m the guy who plays the games for side quests and ignores the main storyline. Unfortunately, in the game of life, that’s a foolish thing to do!

Only so many days of promising myself tomorrow is the day to fix the problem before tomorrow’s too late…



I guess I’m overdue for a tear-jerker every now and again. As the roommate reminds me, I am most likely overly predisposed to describe heart-warming moments as ‘wholesome.’ What could be more wholesome than character growth and development? We started and finished Violet Evergarden in just two sittings, and my word, the latter half tugged at my heart strings with the eternity of longing that I can empathize.

But there is peace too. Emotional turmoil, the hopelessness and lost sensation, they all give way to peace in their own time and through others. Perhaps I’m becoming biased in wisdom acquisition, but it does appear that a common theme resonates among the arts, literature, and entertainment I adore: we grow, we heal, we find our best fulfillment in light of others. Even the highest highs of achievement, a sensation I crave with each and every passing project, what more are they than building blocks to a sturdier me to share with a world of others?

I imagine you would like this anime as well. And perhaps all too fittingly, it would remind me of you, as much as Violet misses the Major. And like her, I find the peace of addressing an entity more abstract now than real, and that’s okay.

One conference now concluded. One more to go next week. Between now and then and the week afterward, I have to press onward with my little ‘Saga of Hours.’ So far, it’s shown promise, albeit less than fully desirable results (could truly be a theme of life in my 20s, hah). We’ll get there though. We as in physical me and the narrator me, plus our cohort of lifelong cheerleader friends and family.


Trying something new today, birthing it with a cutesie name as I am wont to do with all my pet projects: Saga of Hours. If we can make it last 4 weeks, the possibilities for extension will go from there.

Life has been tough love of late, with all the lucky breaks going elsewhere. I’ve stalled and kept on stalling, promising for tomorrow what I could have done (with some effort) today. Failure on my part, to be sure: talent wasted is worth as much as a lack thereof. Physically, I look and feel great, but mentally, my capacity has certainly diminished. Like exercising the body, the brain too needs its workouts for focus and output. I shouldn’t be my own antagonist when there’s a whole world of problems to choose from.

So here’s to a start of something new and gimmicky. But hey, gimmicks are worth their flair if results can back them up. We adapt and incorporate ideas to help us grow and thrive, and I got plenty of room for both in my life.


Well, that was fun: an expression of skill and critical thinking, the making of a process that takes 6 hours into 1.5. It’s not much in the grand scheme of things, but just enough to bolster confidence in myself that I have something tangible to offer for my supposed talents. It’s a start – got a long way to go.

Happy belated birthday! Here’s hoping things are swell, as I’m sure they are.

I have so many distractions these days…but isn’t that my fault for allowing these sources of vapid entertainment interfering with my productivity? This whole week has basically been a waste in that regards. And yes, while time spent enjoying one’s self is hardly wasteful, it can be excessive. I’m becoming addicted to speed, to the flow of information rather than its comprehension at deeper depths. Projects like the one I just spent time on helps to slow the pace a bit, but ultimately it’s a battle I’m losing, and in no small part due to my own choices for entertainment. I keep making solemn vows to change things, but change has been found wanting.

The more things appear to stay the same then. It’s like I grow in a circular pattern of making strides and falling wayward, up and down that ladder to the next level. Is self-motivation not enough? Gosh darn it.

538. Impossibilities

Concern yourself with not my life,
Nor stray a thought of my affairs,
For friend, and former love, alas,
Forgetting waives a heart’s despair;

But should a whim compel us heave,
A casual strolling through past lifetimes,
Would best recall those flitting scenes
Embellished by a garnished sweet lime.

He wished for wisdom, but not the will to use it.
T: 15


Curiosity is itself a curious thing. What makes it such that one concept engrosses us and another failing to register, even when neither seem particularly relevant to our lives at the given moment? One minute, I come across a seeming trivial fragment of life; the next, I find myself after 2 hours of Wikipedia and Google searches, learning information that will most likely be forgotten within a year or two.

Curious still is what happens when your curiosity fails to be satisfied. The information you sought cannot be found or accessed. What then but disappointment? And yet, the internal source of curiosity does not fade. Perhaps that is the curse that keeps us moving, ever pushing at the edge of our desires for a fragment of the unknowable/unaccessible.

Knowledge for an empty void though. Knowledge that brings no joy other than a joy in knowing. And yet, I seek it anyways. Curiosity is a curious thing.

537. Wisps

Can I command myself forget?
A lesser yearning, just an ounce,
as steady past as moments fade
before the ceaseless seconds’ count;

That rainy days may bring a peace
devoid of longing, just blank joy,
each splashing drop massaging
away the soothing of your voice;

Can I command myself forget?
The days like whispers, poorly-pieced,
to which in sorrow I’ll consign,
and to the writings I concede;

Perfection then the past that was
where memory’s grasp is dark.

And so I asked for the impossible, half-heartedly. No wonder why the only outcome possible left the mind lamenting.
T: 17


I think it’s fair to say I’m frustrated. 2 steps forward, 3 steps back. 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. Success feels ever fleeting and just out of reach. Another lesson learned, yes. Another characteristic to improve upon. These are victories of a certain sort, but not the kind I fancy at the moment.

I suppose if nothing else, I get to learn another lesson in patience. If I give up, which doesn’t seem acceptable…but if I give up, nothing gets easier – I would merely be giving myself a pass to flounder. For some things, we can find worth in needing to quit. But things within my control, improvement within my capacity…that’s worth hanging onto. That’s worth bowing my head down and keep on moving. That’s worth refusing to give up.

It’s late and I need sleep for the week ahead. I had my one week of vacation, as it were. How many wake-up calls would one need before getting on with adulthood? Excuses and entertainment – I am more than just these two components. Why not prove it?


I can be proud so far this week. Exhausted too, but proud nonetheless for meeting a fully-packed schedule head-on. Personal time may very well go the way of illusions in the next few months or so. So it shall be then – another letting go? You wouldn’t think I have much left to give, but the limit has not been reached quite yet. Maybe I’ll feel differently after tonight’s workout, and then hosting a long-time friend the whole weekend. Next week shall repeat as early as Monday morning…onward then!

Feeling intensely nostalgic for you of late, and not particularly sure why. Perhaps it’s because I missed our weekly phone calls, and with all the little pockets of time in transit the desire to speak and hear from you carved an inner path towards longing. The lack of adequate sleep undoubtedly contributed, though I shouldn’t blame my body for troubles I impose upon it. We’ve come quite far, even as your various joints and muscles aggravate: let’s keep moving, yeah? Maybe the inner paths will lead towards some outer gardens, or not.

So two of three themes figured out for the year then: Graduate, and some variation of “letting go.” Relinquish? Desist? Relieved? The third one sounds quite pleasant actually, probably the best connotation so far. Just one more theme to go. Perhaps another theme to do with perseverance or something else aspirational and just as cheesy. Like all good stories go, the characters have to believe in their mission. The thing about your own hill to ascend is that you are always free to stop. But that also means you alone can choose to look beyond the current trek and climb. So then, is this the stopping spot? Maybe someday, the answer will be yes. That doesn’t feel right for today though.


My airport misfortunes has not ended yet I see; one on the way forth, one on the way hither. So long as this return trip doesn’t end up being another overnight venture, it’s the best one can hope for…the learning experience has been wonderful of course, but now I eagerly await a weekend that is still a few days out. Tomorrow is long yet, and the day after feels not an hour shorter.

Looks like I must once again say bye to T…and for good this time most likely. Another dose of letting go for 2018, an altogether familiar sentiment of late. As the saying goes, I can’t control others’ actions, only my own. I wish you all the best you can conceive of.

For now though, I’m just tired. Not all progress is linear – it could be weeks, months, or perhaps even years before the labors from these localized days of exhaustion (mental and physical) pay off, assuming they do at all. So precious few things in life are guaranteed, and perhaps that is why our ancestors never banked too much on the future as they tend to satisfy with the moment. And why shouldn’t we? At least the moment’s here when we get to have a good one; tomorrow could be just as great as it is gloomy. Should it be great, a good moment now is surely not much less – if it’s gloomy, then the moment now is surely preferable.

But that’s casting doubt on moments to be had, moments to be built toward and earned. And like any work of construction built with just one soul’s effort, it takes time and effort to achieve mastery, if not in function then at least in look. Thus, patience and pain are both required, and both must be cultivated and sustained in the trials coming up ahead. Today’s me is tired, and tomorrow’s me will be sleep-deprived. Perhaps next week repeats the story. But at some point, a threshold will be reached, a punctuation smashing past this current equilibrium. By then, this will appear trite in retrospect, the same way the first mile of a marathon is barely worth noting by its 26th. Question is: do I believe this?