What is a shape of love?
Have you seen a shape of love?
If you have, tell me about it.
Does it look like a heart?
-Pumping the red streams
Gushing the river into veins
Thumping, pounding,
Speeding fast forward
The reason of the mind
Covered with dessicated
Leaves of the dreams
Where joy once danced
Frolicking, humming
Like a beautiful butterfly
In derilious delight. –
Is this what you have seen
The shape of love?
What principles define how you live?
Ask any acclaimed mountaineers, such as Edmund Hillary and Reinhold Messner, why and how they climbed up the highest mountain in the world, Mount Everest. Their answers were simple: there was a mountain to climb, and they had to move forward. Likewise, here are my life’s three guides: imagination, creativity, and hope that accompany me in this life’s journey.
I am a figure of paradoxes, contrasting light with dark, ideal and worldly, bright and melancholy. I see myself trapped in the Labyrinth of Crete, where the Minotaur lurks in the corner of the maze, waiting to ambush, yearning to eat me. (It is more poetic than being lost in a level of the dreadful Backrooms, as it were.) Normal is not default, and insecurity constantly stalks me like a haunting revenant, resisting departing this world that it longs to remain for an unfinished business. And yet, there is always this impalpable, mysterious sense of what-if flickering in its iridescent halo from a distance. So, I follow the light, walk forward, and never look back because moving forward keeps me alive. Didn’t Stephen Hawking also collaborate with it by saying that it is possible for humans to travel to the future but impossible to return to the past?
Creativity is essential because it gives a sense of existence, of what it means to be a human. Viktor E. Frankl said three values shape a meaningful life, which are creative value, experiential value, and attitudinal value. I enjoy appreciating the artistic works of others and learning to accept who I am. But I am also delighted in creating my own creations, however good or bad they may be. Writing is such a means of expression by which I can express myself. It is fearful of disappearing like a speck of the world, and I am not nothing.
I can imagine myself one day arriving as an acclaimed memoirist, diarist, or essayist. Novels are not my forte because I can’t write things I pretend to be or know. That is why I prefer reading nonfiction, and I like to think that I can write it well.
Thus are my principles – or, more fittingly, my guides – in life. I am a Dante who imagines, a Virgil who creates, and a Beatrice who hopes through life’s journey.
Dear Toro and Camille,
The words I am writing in this letter to you are the voice from my words, and I am addressing your soul’s heart to heart. I know you may not understand the complexities of human language, but my heart and soul are the basics of the words, and I know you will understand what I am trying to say anyway…
I am so sorry that I can’t provide you with the ideal environment for both of you, my sweet darlings, in my present situation. You know that I can’t let you out of our little bedroom whenever you want to go to the living room where the mother stays. She doesn’t like you to be around because she is jealous of my love for you. But she refuses to know that she loves me, not because she never does and has always been unkind to her only daughter. She is not evil but an ill person inside and outside due to her unspoken history of mental illness. I know it, but it’s a taboo that her family wouldn’t disclose. I know this because I am very keen on psychology based on human behaviors. I think you have already sensed it with your supernatural feline senses. What a fate!
When I utter a cry of fate, my soul cries at my fate of being unable to give you the necessary environment to thrive as happy cats. Of course, I always bring you to the doctor when you show symptoms of bodily discomfort, however slight they may be. But when I see my brother’s and cousin’s cats happily and freely roaming around their lovely homes, my heart breaks, and my soul cries inwardly and outwardly. How much I love you guys so much! Toro, you have been with me in every moment of my darkness and occasional lightness. You are always with me when life is unkind to me with the cold shoulders and icy glances. How comforting to stroke your cushy furs through my fingers lying next to me! You are my faithful companion. And Camille, since you came to me, your sweet purrs and meows have consoled my wretched soul. You are such a sweet soul. To people who believe animals have no souls, I defy to see their eyes straightly and speak to them softly that you love them! They know they are loved, and I know my darlings realize it! They know I am sad and happy. They are my only friends in this cold world.
So, I am asking you to hold on to hope that someday we will live in a lovely home where you can freely and happily roam around, run around all the rooms and floors, cajoling and frolicking to your content and being yourselves. Therefore, I wonder if you want me to accept Brother Joe’s proposal to move to Korea and live in his luxurious apartment with a spacious loft for you and me to live comfortably. What do you think? You think it’s okay?
Doubt that the stars fall from the sky. Doubt that the sea is blue.
Doubt night becomes day. But never doubt I love you.
All my love,
Stephanie
What details of your life could you pay more attention to?
Dear Reader,
After a long and tiring day at work, I look back today and regret not doing things the way I wanted – yet again. Since I spend more time in an office full of strangers with nothing in common with me other than working for the same employer, reflecting on today’s memories and actions brings me a feeling of sorrow and sympathy. It’s always this matter of diplomacy of interacting with others without offending them, which is what I should pay more attention to.
The art of social interaction is hard enough for me to achieve without having a poker face or a public mask – persona. I have seen people who ingratiate themselves with those whom they regard as socially beneficial and politically influential. I see them, all of whom are women, but I don’t see beauty in their visages, nor their minds and hearts. Those able-bodied, fair-weathered friends or sycophants are unashamed of their deeds, acting as if they were all above others, thinking themselves better than others.
Not that I begrudge them such a skill of flattering, but I realize that having the diplomatic forte may help me to live a more comfortable life for me and my two beautiful cats. Indeed, smile is the best global language where no spoken words are required. I can smile and smile beautifully, but my beautiful smile is unrelated to currying favor from the powers that be, so to speak. Still, it would work wonders if I could pay more attention to my facial expression and the whole demeanor of my body in a polished way so people would not be rude to me.
My wish is someone’s daily life or just a fancy, but it is still my wish to induce a good impression on me, no matter where you are from.
Good night. Carpe Diem!
Dear Reader,
The Roman orator and senator Cicero warned anyone defying one’s age is asking for trouble from the law of nature. I have no intention to falsify my date of birth in legal documents or to make a pact with the devil to keep me from being an old hag. Instead, I want to address the vagaries of getting old and the travesty of maturity that has become all the more conspicuous as time passes. It is a life to tell, and I am addressing the voice from the heart with a spirit of undying youth at the center of the heart to you, my readers, young and old, across the oceans and lands. Thus begins my soliloquy.
They say we are all young at heart with willing spirits, but the weak flesh. While truth is truth to the end of reckoning, the reality of life forces you to realize that you are getting old and older as you find yourselves surrounded by people who are decades younger, the race of the new generation -especially the MZ Generation. Gone are the Second World War generation with the departures of Queen Elizabeth and her better half, Prince Phillip, Tina Turner, Jane Birkin, etc. The Korean War Generation has become a thing of the past, along with the former, replaced by the Vietnam War Generation. Here’s the Reality Bites Moment. The MZ Generation born in the 2000s has taken over the workforce, equipped with digital savviness and adorned with Social Media.
For instance, where I work is filled with the MZs, and they take such a shining pride in being of such a high-tech era, dwarfing all those born before them. I wallow in their endless chatting and overtly hyped self-promotion. To them, anyone over the evolutionary scale of 30 years old is, needless to say, “Old” and therefore not worth being associated with. To them, we – yes, I am one of them – are invisible and ignorable unless you pretend to be someone you are not so that you can be jovial with them. What a tragedy!
Looking back, the years of work since I graduated from college at the beginning of this century – Geronimo! – I see the working environment then and now and realize the world has changed a great deal in terms of the way people think and behave. Until 2015, people still had the cultural traits of the analog times when writing journals with pens was more prevalent than typing into iPads, laptops, or iPhones. I could find people I could talk to effortlessly, and they would also speak to me about a common topic back then. But now, it is a different world because it is filled with the neotypes of humanoids. It’s like being marooned on a planet surrounded by cone-headed aliens or besieged by hideous Its in Backrooms.
Have you ever seen the movie Logan’s World? It’s the world of Youth and Beauty where anyone over 30 is being put into a spectacle death under the pretext of being “renewed.” Renewed because the presence of the Old becomes purged by
the company of the New Army of Beautiful Youth. I look at the world around me and see the images from Logan’s World, which dissolve into one another and shape the Leviathan of the MZ Generation. I know now how Hamlet felt when he uttered thus with the skull of the dead jester: “Alas Poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio!” Ditto to that, Hamlet.
Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.
Dear Readers,
There are many things I wish I had done but aborted by the yoke of life or through the vertigo of existential distress. I had to smother my true spirit under the duties and responsibilities of an elderly child of an immigrant family struggling to make a living in a land of people who do not like me very much. But I will say it anyhow in my blog because I am asked by today’s prompt to which I am willingly obliged.
I wish I could have become more articulate in expressing myself in writing and speaking so that people could understand why I am the way I am and that they could be my friends, as many people seem to achieve the art of expression without effort. That would have changed my life in a brilliantly green way to happiness because if you can’t articulate yourself effectively, it is like being socially and mentally awkward, and people will ignore you and leave you alone, even if you hate being lonely. What a tragedy.
I wish I could have realized that worrying will get you nowhere because it will derail you from the tranquility of the mind with multiple faces of a fool. That life is livable, even if it is unlikable sometimes or many times is what I wish to realize someday. To that effect, being serious every time will trap me inside the existential backrooms with a point of no return. I wish I could look back on the foot steps I have treaded upon in my life and say with a smile thus: “My goodness, was I too serious for nothing?”
I still have a life that I haven’t forsaken, and I want to give it another try to make it as beautiful as possible. The words of St. Teresa of Avila could not have sounded more soothing and curing than any other time than this time: “Let nothing frighten you, let nothing disturb you. All these will fade away.” I hope to see the world around me as workable and achievable, and most of all, adorable in its own oddly enchanting way, which I hope to utter someday, “Oh, LOL! Was I too serious back them?” Why not? Wishes and hopes are free.
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