Untold Untruths
Mike Wozowski is gobsmacked for good reason.
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Saturday, April 29
(no title)
Today fuckin hurts.
Wednesday, April 26
The Moon
When Rhett Butler was drunk, and completely pissed-angry at Scarlett, he said "...you're such a child, Scarlett. A child crying for the moon. What would a child do with the moon if he got it?"
Indeed, what would I do with the moon, if I got it?
Indeed, what would I do with the moon, if I got it?
Tuesday, April 11
WANTED: Krystle's Madman
For the record, the madman is an anthropomorphic personification of one's imagination and daring. Credit goes to Mr. Heng Lim (Head Judge of the MPH short story competition) for the madman and Neil Gaiman for the beautiful elucidation.
I have a tremendous problem. I don't like talking if I feel nobody will appreciate what I have to say; and I don't like writing if I feel that I'm going to waste words trying to say something meaningless. How am I ever going to discover my thoughts and feelings? How am I ever going to understand myself if I'm never going to let the madman loose? How am I ever going to be able to write anything worthwhile without writing rubbish first?
How often has this happened? I don't mix well in huge crowds exactly because of this; because I know nobody really listens to me when I have something to say - and also because most of the talk involved is small talk, stuff you forget three hours later - so I keep quiet. Shine from college observed (very frankly) that I seemed very introverted and unhappy a lot of the time. Am I, really? I'm an extrovert at heart, or I wouldn't be so loud with the people I love the most. Or are the people I feel most comfortable with excluded from my social activities?
Getting off-tangent here. K, what I really want to say is: I don't want to be this self-conscious. I don't want to watch everything I say or do. I don't want to self-censor every damn thing I write or say in public. I don't want to choke in every half-baked idea or garbage that tends to form in my head. I don't want to be... so afraid of falling.
I'm so afraid to fall. I don't have a madman because I barely let him exist. I'm so afraid that I will fall down after every little skip I make, much less every leap. The MPH essay, that was a half-skip - a controlled idea formed with self-conscious words. My personal statement... that was a slightly bolder skip, a small jump almost - a ringing damned-if-I-can't voice only vaguely shifting back into a tighter mould. All said and done, my madman has never been off the leash. He's never flown full-fledged. Never leaped or bounded over mountains and seas. Never let loose to explore the full universe...
People like me don't become revolutionaries like Disney or Gaiman or the guys who created Superman and Batman, because people like me don't have the guts to let the madman loose; don't have the guts to prepare for a fall.
People like me don't really dare to dream, because people like me are afraid their dreams might not come true... and what then?
Wither goest thou, Krystle of the Wong, if thou do not change?
Cow, I'm glad for you, you know? You're the only one (with the exception of Liz) with whom I let my madman loose. Alas, verbal exchanges hardly account for art or literature.
I love you, sweetheart.
I have a tremendous problem. I don't like talking if I feel nobody will appreciate what I have to say; and I don't like writing if I feel that I'm going to waste words trying to say something meaningless. How am I ever going to discover my thoughts and feelings? How am I ever going to understand myself if I'm never going to let the madman loose? How am I ever going to be able to write anything worthwhile without writing rubbish first?
How often has this happened? I don't mix well in huge crowds exactly because of this; because I know nobody really listens to me when I have something to say - and also because most of the talk involved is small talk, stuff you forget three hours later - so I keep quiet. Shine from college observed (very frankly) that I seemed very introverted and unhappy a lot of the time. Am I, really? I'm an extrovert at heart, or I wouldn't be so loud with the people I love the most. Or are the people I feel most comfortable with excluded from my social activities?
Getting off-tangent here. K, what I really want to say is: I don't want to be this self-conscious. I don't want to watch everything I say or do. I don't want to self-censor every damn thing I write or say in public. I don't want to choke in every half-baked idea or garbage that tends to form in my head. I don't want to be... so afraid of falling.
I'm so afraid to fall. I don't have a madman because I barely let him exist. I'm so afraid that I will fall down after every little skip I make, much less every leap. The MPH essay, that was a half-skip - a controlled idea formed with self-conscious words. My personal statement... that was a slightly bolder skip, a small jump almost - a ringing damned-if-I-can't voice only vaguely shifting back into a tighter mould. All said and done, my madman has never been off the leash. He's never flown full-fledged. Never leaped or bounded over mountains and seas. Never let loose to explore the full universe...
People like me don't become revolutionaries like Disney or Gaiman or the guys who created Superman and Batman, because people like me don't have the guts to let the madman loose; don't have the guts to prepare for a fall.
People like me don't really dare to dream, because people like me are afraid their dreams might not come true... and what then?
Wither goest thou, Krystle of the Wong, if thou do not change?
Cow, I'm glad for you, you know? You're the only one (with the exception of Liz) with whom I let my madman loose. Alas, verbal exchanges hardly account for art or literature.
I love you, sweetheart.