Hate and Love

Hate. It's such a strong word, isn't it? So much stronger than love. Think of Hitler. Think of aggression, of wrath, of the violent father's fury, of seething jealousy. Think of anger, of a human scorned, think of sore egos and nurtured scores. Think of the storm, wiping everything in its path. How could anything withstand the forceful tsunami of hate?

Then think of love. Think of the boy in the striped pyjamas. Think of childhood, think of innocence, of forgiveness and acceptance, of a mother's healing hand, of embracing the good in others and in yourself. Think of trust, of wounds healed and scars faded, of the waves washing all that is ill and all that is good into the past and leaving clean sand. Rejuvenating, regenerating, rebirthing. A renaissance. Think of second chances and a stranger's smile. Think of the birds rebuilding, think of the bud peeping through after everything has been wiped out. How could anything resist the gentle persuasion of love?

~Sam

Transient Beauty

"I havent seen you in ages
Sometimes I find myself
Wondering where you are
For me you'll always be eighteen
And beautiful
And dancin away with my heart."
-Dancing Away With My Heart, Lady Antebellum

Human relationships are all so bittersweet, no? All moments in human life, in general, actually. And since life mostly consists of relationships...

I mean. Everything passes. That's an unalterable fact. The person may stay (though they usually don't, stupid globalisation), but that one beautiful moment will pass. There will be more moments, but not that one. Memories capture them to some extent, but that just adds to the bittersweetness of the whole experience, of all experience. Transience adds value-short lived things are the most treasured, shooting stars the most loved- but it also makes your heart hurt.

And you don't want things to be permanent, even when you do, because they won't be the same if they don't pass. Like in Shrek 3. Even the most perfect day lived over and over again can become imperfect. And I guess it's better to have a short, beautiful experience, than to make it stretch and ruin it.

But how do you stop wanting it to last forever? How do you make your heart understand that it's better this way, that life is a collection of sweet moments, not sweet forevers, that leaving some joys behind makes way for new ones, that farewells make way for reunions?

~Sam

There is so much to know in this world, and so little time to know it.

There is so much to read. Kafka and Salinger and Lispector and Khaled Hosseini and Nietzsche and Virginia Woolf and Terry Pratchett and Salman Rushdie and Hemingway and Charles Baudelaire and Fitzegerald and…so much. And so much poetry.

So much to see. Vienna and Paris and Egypt and Nigeria and Angola and Prague and Iran and London and New York and...everywhere.

So much to hear. So many, many songs, so much music I haven't even discovered yet.

So much to experience.

And so little time.

~Sam

Right Here, Right Now.

Currently listening to Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez
Currently Obsessed with Here Comes A Regular by The Replacements, Open by Rhye, Babe I'm Gonna Leave You by Led Zeppelin
Current Mood-Guilty for not feeling guilty.

I have a visceral, mortal fear.

Of people dying, or committing suicide. I think all those "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books I read when I was 13 laid the ground for this one. But honestly. Have you noticed just how easy it is for someone to die, how fragile life is?
Of staircases, specifically, of falling down staircases. It's happened before, it can happen again.
Of jinxing things. It's really, really difficult for me to brag. (Though that statement is in itself bragging, in a sense.)
Of getting into trouble. Reason #1 I did not have the typical tumultous teen years or crazy college life. I was just too goddamn aware of the consequences, both possible and improbable, of my actions.
Of failure. Though this is one which I can, and am trying to, get over.
I have others, of course, but these are the ones that really influence every decision, haunt every moment.
~Sam

Retrospection

I just read my posts from last November and last December [i.e., of 2011, which seems both so near and so far], and this November and this December-which, let's be honest, consists mainly of Space Filling, and I just..
Wow. I don't think I realized just how depressed I was back then. Even though I have more work now, and equal reason to be stressed, if not more, I'm happy I've evolved enough not to go crazy over it. To have gained a little perspective to look at things as a whole, to see the larger picture.
And I'm glad we started blogging.
Thanks, Malko.

~Sam 

With regard to the third panel.

I do not want my life to be this.
I do not want my life to be counting calories, running miles.
I do not want my life to be answering to society, fulfilling strangers' expectations.
I do not want my life to be defensive, answering questions from those who don't deserve to ask them.
I do not want my life to be routine.
I do not want my life to be worried.
I do not want my life to be unhappy.

Yes, I will do all of those things, sometimes. Most times.
But I do not want my life to be just that.

I want to eat a cupcake, five cupcakes, without thinking about the consequences to my thighs.
I want to tell someone to fuck off when they ask me why I'm doing things so strangely. People who ask through looks and smirks, who have not the courage to use their words. Because if they had the courage to ask, they would have the sense not to want to.
I want to get up and fly to Paris, simply because.
I want to smile at the old man with his little dog, whom he used to let me pet back in seventh grade, without thinking that he's a kidnapper.
I want to laugh off getting fired and immerse myself in a book. Jump into an inviting pool fully clothed. Run down the street to hug my love.
I want..to live.

~Sam

I'm not even sure why we have viewers anymore (if we do).

Hi, it's time for the normal spiel again, i.e., it has been a long while and I am in no position to write something deep or coherent [shit loads of work left, and a friend is making the strangest noises as she experiences Confessions of a Shopaholic-the movie, not the book-for the first time]. So here is a bunch of things I've thought since the last time I blogged, in no particular order.


Loving is giving more, and getting more than you'd ever imagined you could or would.

Beginnings and endings are so special to us, to all of us, as a race. One rarely comments about the beauty of the sun at high noon-it's always a sunrise or a sunset that wells the heart. Maybe because they actually are more beautiful, but the same can be said about births and deaths, which have a way of bringing us together in a way that most occasions don't. We celebrate birthdays every year, a symbol of a beginning; we celebrate weddings and moving and retirements and farewells, because they're a new beginning, and an ending.


Not yet.
Not yet decided,
Not yet written.
Not yet a star,
Not yet a somebody.



Putting something into words is such a big deal. It imparts such a sense of certainty. Permanence. Words are so..lasting.



I am intensely fascinated by bruises, both metaphorical and literal.



Epiphany of the week: I've realized that I actually have hope for the human race, despite all our contradictions and our wars and our stupid silly quarrels and our egos and our occasional insipidity. Despite our Hitlers and our Idi Amins. Because we still have Schindlers, so many Schindlers that we don't even know their names. Friends, lovers. Who sacrifice for us, even if it is something as simple as staying up all night just to let us rant. And despite what Ayn Rand may have preached, I still do believe that to sacrifice for someone is the greatest thing you can do for them, and, in the right situations, for yourself.


~Sam

Suffocating.

I am not one in a million.  I am the epitome of normalcy and mediocre. I feel like I'm being laughed at by karma. My life is a joke. How long before I realize my dreams are just false hope? Am I really that ignorant, or am I just living in denial? I am not destined for greatness. Who am I even kidding? I don't even know if I can get that 700 in the GMAT. Does it matter how much I want this? Does it make a difference? Do I make a difference?

I'm so tired of this. Fatigue is creeping into my bones. My life is dull. I'm done with this place and its people. I'm not asking for firecrackers, just a few sparks here and there. But all that exists, is darkness and silence. I am confined. I'm suffocating.

This is Malko saying

Maytheforcebewithyou