and then you cant seem to stop thinking about...

whats the word? smitten?

maybe too strong a word. but it certainly feels like it.

Friendship.

Just like love, its incomprehensible. Why are we friends? we never really do ask this question; but when you do, you actually do pause and think. Why?

Circumstances. Chance.

Then it hits you. you don't really know.

But then again, must we? dissect such a beautiful thing apart, analyse the very crux of it? lets just enjoy what there is, cant we?

yet sometimes, the heart gets the better of the mind.

Lost?

Thoughts..

an extended arm, torn off by what flurries by
sometimes you put yourself out there just to feed the sharks.
nothing admirable, just out of heart.
because there wont be any fuss, when none is left.

maybe you're right after all, they can try as they might, but they can never truly mend those bits.

its sad, bordering pitiful sometimes. well, people hear what they want to hear that's all.

its past midnight, yet the sky ain't black as it should. a slight orange-purplish hue to it; glowing like embers in a distance. kinda nice, calming, peaceful, just,.. dazed..

"nothing is good. because nothing can be taken away from you."

seemingly painless true statement, but no. nothing does not mean it gives you the right to screw things up. It is no free pass to waste your life. Yet who among us can say we really have nothing?

No, I should not think. no ponder. And just look out, beyond the trees and buildings, into the orange-purplish hue.

before long, the night envelopes you.

Was it his moral responsibility to do it? to save the 1100 Jews? Sadly, its not. But not everything is based on moral responsibility, no? Some things are just meant to be done, not because of need, but rather it is just the right thing to do? Then again what is right or wrong, who is the judge?

but why go into all that? why would he ponder over how many more he could have saved, why ponder about the philosophy behind his actions?

Just accept that a wonderful deed is done. Because to the Schindler Jews, that is all there is to it, they are alive because of this one man.

So screw it. I shall go to bed, reminded that, "Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire."

Visions of grandeur? Maybe. But to me it just means that every single life is important.

They say prison is a terrible place; hell on earth. But to those that spend more time inside than out, it is the only place they know as home. To the man who serves for life but gets parole after 50 years, its as good as sending a fresh criminal to jail; but no longer are the concrete walls or steel bars physically holding him back, they are already imprinted into his mind, his soul.

"Walls are funny. First you hate them, then you get used to them. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on them. That's institutionalized."

this strikes so deep. because walls can be intangible like those you set around yourself to protect yourself from the world.

all their life, they seek a reprieve from all that grayness, savoring every bit that can be offered in the world of the free, cigarettes, booze, posters, or even the fresher air of the other side. but when they finally get the chance to be on the other side, all they want is back in. Change is hard, even more so if things have been the same old for more than half your lifetime; and you just want to go back to where things made sense.

Seeing Brooks getting parole, leaving Shawshank, looking left and right trying to find out where to go now in his life. Him on the bus, two hands on the seat handle, with that dreaded look on his face not knowing what to expect of this new world he is about to face. Him trying to deal with what we normally pass off as common sense such as doubling bags for heavy groceries. Its just heart-wrenching, if not for a better word, heart-shredding.

I end off with what hit me most in the movie. Brooks' letter to the fellas.



Dear fellas,
I can't believe how fast things move on the outside.
I saw an automobile once when I was a kid,
but now, they are everywhere.
The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.
The parole board got me into this halfway house called "The Brewer",
and a job, bagging groceries at the Food-Way.
It's hard work, I try to keep up but my hands hurt most of the time.
I don't think the store manager likes me very much.
Sometimes after work, I go to the park to feed the birds.
I keep thinking, Jake might just show up and say hello, but he never does.
I hope wherever he is, he's doing okay and making new friends.
I have trouble sleeping at night.
I have bad dreams like I am falling.
I wake up scared.
Sometimes it takes me awhile to remember where I am.
Maybe I should get me a gun and rob the Food-Way so they'd send me home.
I could shoot the manager while I was at it. Sort of like a bonus.
I guess I'm too old for that sort of nonsense anymore.
I don't like it here.
I'm tired of being afraid all the time.
I've decided, not to stay.
I doubt they will kick up any fuss, not for an old crook like me.
Tell Heywood I'm sorry I put a knife to his throat.
No hard feelings,

Brooks

They say home is where
Your heart is set in stone,
Is where you go when you are alone,
Is where you get to rest your bones.
It is not just where you lay your head,
It is not just where you make your bed,
As long as we are together,
Does it matter where we go?

musings with 2 cubes and some scotch.

With each beginning, it marks an end to another. Yet as we take time to look back and reminisce, everything keeps moving forward.

The train of life chugs on, never stopping. Often, people are left behind, those that cannot keep up with your choices and decisions, whereas there are those that you stayed with because you refused to move forward. As we learn to let go, of childish things, of hurtful moments, of stagnating periods, we enter to the new carriages of our life, be it empty or filled with strangers who we may yet call friends. As much as we dislike making choices, life is full of them; so what choice will you make?

It sure has been a fruitful summer and I know for sure the next one will get even better. Life has been looking up eh, heh.

So why the feeling of unsatisfaction; of something missing.

oh, be cast away my sorrows.

Delirious?

If only we could understand the things we know.

The lights dancing upon the water, carressing the ripples formed, in a playful duet. As the mind wanders, the lights begin to form shapes. Intruigied, the mind continues to watch as the images form; but is it what it wants to see?

A tear, an emotion begins to well.

But thats not the end. The images take on other forms.

A glimmer (pun intended) of hope?

Just as you thought you saw it, the lights diffuse into a blur as the boat approaches.

As easy as it came, it went.

The birds they sang
The break of day
Start again I hear them say

Yes, my friend. I hear them say.

There is no greater satisfaction than to see millions sing in one voice a song you have written.



Light up, light up.

2 movies, both talking about the importance of identity.

and then there is the question, what is the meaning of life?

But why do we need someone else to define who we are and our meaning in life? The funny thing about that is because they are probably trying to find their own purpose in life themselves and you expect them to know yours? Are we just finding excuses to deny who we are and hoping that what others think about us is actually a better version of who we are? Maybe by hearing what they think should be our purpose, we can strive for it and if it does not pan out, we have someone to blame for telling us the wrong things.

The war between being told who you are and knowing who you are, bordering on insanity. who do you think wins?

It is said your past molds you into the person you are today but what defines you is the decisions you make for your future. But how far can you stray from yourself, can we really change who we are or its just all futile.

But when your identity is robbed away from you, you do not ask what is your purpose in this life is. It becomes as simple as, who am i? Maybe its that simple and that is all we need to know, to comprehend; who are you?

I am YJ.

Occam's razor at its best.