Made Up Stories (Part 2/2)

If you haven't read part 1, this wouldn't make sense to you so...

http://the-morphine.blogspot.sg/2014/11/made-up-stories-part-12.html

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I started realising that it was a problem only when I had a little more friends during my secondary 3 & 4 years. My social circle was bigger and there were more and more lies. I was very careful to not let my different social circles meet each other because they would have a warped perception of each other through my stories.

By sec 3, my bubble of lies was already burst more times than I would like to admit... but that didn't stop me, what made me not want to lie anymore was the freedom in telling the truth.

Now, I know this is starting to sound like some morals essay but seriously though...Sometimes I would become very close to a friend to a point where she would introduce me to her other friends and I always felt slightly weird because I would never be able to do that. I am a different person within different cliques... mix two group of friends together and I would act as if I had split personality. On top of that, my friends didn't know me for who I am... They know me for who I try to be.

And it shouldn't be that way.

So I started to change... I didn't take back all my lies, so it's still up to you to figure out which one is a lie. But I did started telling stories truthfully. And the people that cared listened. No one left or stopped being friends with me just because I lived an average life.

It was nice to know that I could just be myself and still be loved. 

Made Up Stories (Part 1/2).

Being alone wasn't easy. It didn't come naturally even though I was pretty much left out for most of my early years. I yearned to fit in because it felt awkward sitting alone during lunch in a crowded canteen. It felt painful to always be the last person without group mate(s) during activities. It felt like nobody (parents included) paid much attention to me. Parents do not ask "How are you doing?" instead they ask "How are your grades?" And the teasing... Don't even get me started.

I used to create stories in my head. Scenarios. Things that didn't actually happen but I wished they did just so I could have a cool story to tell. Just so someone would find me interesting (and maybe attention worthy) for once.

This happened so often it became a habit.

At school, something would happen... maybe a classmate of mine shouted at the teacher. Now that's a story to tell. But what if that doesn't produce a reaction with the 'audience'? I am gonna say that my classmate shouted at the teacher and gave the teacher a punch! Hah. I might also give a ridiculous background story of my classmate. That will make my story interesting. After all, the people who I am going to tell my story to aren't in anyway related to my classmates so there would be no one to expose my lie.

It started with parents, then tutors, then friends and close friends.

This escalated pretty badly. The stories were interesting and I managed to capture the attention I wanted. However, I felt uncomfortable telling things as they were. I couldn't. I was afraid if I don't spice something up no one would listen. It came to a point where I couldn't even be honest with my counsellor and the things that happened during my counselling sessions.

I didn't see it as a problem back then. I felt that I could very well keep track of the lies I have told, as long as the group of people that I lied to do not meet up with the group of people that I lied about I would be fine.

Lest they be forgotten.

Everyone has voices in their heads. 

Or at least I am admitting that I do.

I feel that it's reason why I jump from one thought to another as if there were tiny creatures in my head snatching for the remote control to my channel of thought. The thoughts do not go deeper than surface level if I do not focus on them and soon they would just fade into the back of my mind. 

But of course, I am larger than the creatures in my head. I hold the main controller to my thoughts. I am able to stay on a channel that I like and dig a little deeper into it - talk to a friend about it or just debate with myself. But there is only so much my working memory can hold and process. 

This is why I write. 

I write to focus.

I write to explore.

I write to remember,

Lest they be forgotten. 

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P/S: This is my first post in a very long time. Consider this post a new beginning for my blog. 

The Miracle Machine

If we can throw away the concept of mind and memory for awhile, we would realize that our life did not start when we came out of our mother's womb. Our life started when stars died and exploded, releasing particles known as 'stardust' that contain mostly oxygen, hydrogen, and iron. These are the same elements we are made of. To keep it simple, we are all made from stars and we are stars down to our blood (iron). We are an abundance of miracles intertwined and we have existed since the start of time.

For a long time, I have been struggling with the question, "Who am I?"
And this is what I've found.

I am not the name that is given to me at birth, neither am I my hobby. I can't just describe myself with one trait either, I am a flexible, living being. So who am I? Throw away the concept of memory and you will realize that you are your parents, your grandparents, the person you hate, the person you love, the trees outside your windows, the fishes in the sea... You are the world.

You were the past, you are now the present, and you will be the future.

You were once that star that exploded into an abundance of miracles. You have existed since the start of time because death does not kill you, it only allows you to continue living in another form. The reason behind our existence right now is based on the number of times we have lived, died and find our ways back to life again. It is almost like a cycle of miracles.

We are technically grandchildren of the exploded stars and our mother is the sun of our solar system. Without the sun (which is also a star) the cycle of miracles on earth would freeze.

The thought of it is just beautiful. Whenever I think about this, I would wonder... Is this why people are drawn towards wishing upon stars? Or how a night sky filled with stars could take our breath away? Could it be that we have already known about this cycle of miracles because it has somehow been encrypted in our hearts since the start of time?

And if we know that stars are beautiful, why would we think any less of ourselves?

Purposeful Procrastination

During my rush for assignments, I realized that my pattern of procrastination revolved around things that are 'fun'. I said 'fun' because I enjoyed doing these things but I wouldn't take time out to do them on purpose. For example, I don't find Bubble Island extremely fun after my exams and assignments are over but when I am procrastinating a task, Bubble Island is one of the top distractions. (It is a Facebook game, in case you didn't know.)

This leads me to conclude that we do need a motivation to procrastinate and the motivator is none other than our task-on-hand which we perceive as difficult. The things that we do while procrastinating are not necessarily the things we enjoy doing but a whole list of 'I would rather...'s. It is a form of avoidance/ running away from the actual task-on-hand. This creates a cycle of this own:

Task - Avoidance - Procrastination - Realization

This is assuming that the task is perceived as difficult.

During procrastination, we would (at some point) reach a realization that we need to complete our task NOW to avoid an undesired outcome. This is when the alarms in your head goes off and you feel a need to start the task. However, this usually does not last until the end of the task. You might finish the first paragraph of your research paper and decide that it is sufficient to avoid the undesired outcome (the alarms in your head have stopped). And that's where procrastination comes in again.

Procrastination is important. Although it is usually referred to as an obstacle that we need to avoid, I believe procrastination serves some kind of purpose. It's like our brain's own way of 'going out for some fresh air' before continuing your work (you could do it literally as well) and without this mechanism, we might end up overworking ourselves. During procrastination, we might also come up with new ideas for our task because we are relaxed. That's why 'therapeutic' (or stress relieving) activities such as taking a bath, going for a cycle/run, or stoning aids creativity. The best ideas come from the shower!

So next time when you procrastinate, try to make your procrastination fruitful. Sometimes it is easier to see the big picture (and what's wrong with it) when you take a step back.

Happy New Year

It's been awhile since I posted here. This space is where I feel safe to share almost anything because the only people who read these post are the ones close enough to me to care (or the ones that accidentally come from random Google searches). Although it is late, I am still going to wish you a happy new year.

Ever since my last post, I have been struggling with some emotions. So to avoid all the "Why you so emo?" I have decided to not post at all. But on the contrary, I have been spilling my negative thoughts on Twitter so I still got my "Why you so emo?" anyway. I won't elaborate on why I am sad, but let's just say that the universe doesn't care if you are happily settled or terribly miserable with only one dearest thing left, if it wants to have an earthquake it will have an earthquake. You have no say over it.

There is some kind of fear when you are about to succeed. Some may understand this but most would not. It is that fear that once you say the word, hand up your paper, or publish a blog post, all your efforts will go to waste because even though you've tried your best, you still failed anyway.  Thinking of success is a risk, just like how falling in love is also a risk. But without that last step, your effort is worthless.

Tell that to the my pile of half completed music compositions, the 'I love you's that weren't said, and the person who waits for the time to run out even when she had finished the paper during an exam long before the given time. They need to hear it. The person behind it needs to hear it.

Cards

We are all born with different cards on our hands. Some are luckier, they have looks, money, or special talents. Some are less lucky, they are disabled, poor, or they belong nowhere. The world is unfair you might say, but this is the way it is and nothing can change that. 

We are all born with different cards on our hands, but how we play it is entirely up to us.