philos
liberté
princeps
memoria

What if one day, someone came up to you and told you that nothing mattered to him, that life was just an empty vacant hole, a void used to ensnare the foolish and deceive the wise. Just a way of measuring time, just a manner of letting one's heart beat the seconds of life, only to get older by the minute, more unsure by the second.

What if he told you now, that we may very well vanish soon, vanish into painful oblivion, and that we can't have happiness, because if we find happiness, it will be over all to soon, and what would we be left with, but the memories of what once was?

I recall martin's fear of happiness. The only way we know we felt happiness is when it is over. And it's true. We would only be left with the shell of joy, the remnents of a certain emotion that allowed us to bubble over with inexplicable joy, and we will be grasping at the leaves of Memory.

I think I have been talking to old buddies who have changed, matured, grown up, and grown weary and wary. Friends who don't find meaning in their existence, who are not suicidal despite what the public thinks (unrequited love and whatnots), but are tired of living, of life, of existence, and it's lack of purpose.

But really, do we all live our lives devoid of meaning and purpose? Do we blog about things like the next fashion trend, and live only for such trivial appreciations? What have we ever done to warrant or even justify our existence..

Do we have it all wrong? Did you think that life is meaningless and unimportant, because the world has not presented opportunities for you to live it well, because you think you can go on in your little world, cocooned from the realities of life, and then decide to deem life unnecessary.

We are sadly mistaken. It is us who have to justify our existence. We are on this soil for some reason unbeknownst to many, but the question is what we are going to do about it. It is arrogant (and oh so human) to assume that the world has to prove its 'worthiness' to us. Instead, it is our worthiness we have to prove. Is anyone, everyone worthy of being called a brother, a sister, a leader, a friend.. and how do you measure up?

I will soar on eagle's wings. I will fix my eyes on you Jesus, as I run this race. and my strength is restored.

As it is now, when I am left alone with my thoughts, and I feel the walls of Reason crushing against me, I am reminded of our little prayer in the hoomroom.

My faith will not be shaken, because I know inside what really has made a difference in the way I live my life, and in the miracles, YES, the miracles that have happened, I don't want to attribute it to the trivial human term Fate. That is a pitiful excuse. What is fate but a social construct, existing to bring a value or give a name to the things we cannot explain..

I do tend to go on and on about such things, I realise. When I look back at all I've said in this little place on the global web space, I wonder whether I will be amazed at the feeble way I construct self-directed arguments.

On a lighter note, I spent the whole day yesterday being sick and finishing my theory exam. Just for self-mockery, I couldn't identify my german sixth, and I didn't know whether the piece was by beethoven or mahler, and I forgot all about my auxiliary notes, and I composed a piece of disgusting music because I could only hear the humming of evil germs in my brain. And I died from exhaustion halfway through the paper, and decided to take a short siesta. And I want to murder corelli.

I hope I pass.


Anyway, I went out to holland v last night with STACE to celebrate my completion of the dreadful theory exam, despite feeling a little like crap. She suggested drinking serious alcohol to kill the germs, but I'm no fool (seriously). So she bought me jolly shandy, which has 0.5% alcohol, so that I wouldn't get murdered by mum. (I still remember the last time I drank jolly shandy, I was incoherent and headachy. Mum was rolling her eyes at my fantastic tolerance level.) Anyhow, I didn't drink it.

Then we met a few happening people pubbing. I think we're too young for this sort of thing. There were many hugs, "hellos, so where are you studying now", stuff like that, but I was feeling quite terrible already, and I didn't have any voice left, so poor stace had to talk enough for the both of us. I finally went to deep slumber at haagen dazs, despite the tempting waffle dream with rum and raisin. The germs were mutilating my cells. Sorry stace.. ): muahh.

On a random note, I found certain pictures of my sister and me, and have come to the conclusion that we do look kind of alike!






This guy at the busstop thought we were twins (: Wicked.

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