This is the last day of 2007. I felt it appropriate to take a brief look at all the significant stuff that happened to me over the year. Let's make a list!
- I broke up with my girlfriend of almost 4 years.
- I got myself a new job.
- I bought a new car.
- am now saddled with a loan. oh, joy.
- I had to move out of the house for a few months because my grandmother moved in, and she took up my room.
- I moved back in after she left.
- She proceeded to die a week ago.
- I effectively left my band due to various reasons.
- I got into a few new games(e.g. Heavy Gear) and temporarily lost interest in a few existing ones(Warhammer 40K).
- I read a lot more, bought more books.
- played a lot more World of Warcraft.
- started playing basketball again.
- had a few friendships cool off or die, for some very odd reasons that I still cannot fathom.
- made some new friends via basketball and World of Warcraft.
- an old friend who was living in Australia decided to return for good. yippee!
- got into Facebook. sigh. doomed.
- started blogging.
- computer died twice this year, taking all of my lovely data with it.
- bought an electric guitar. white elephant really.
- bought a second-hand ipod. truly awesome.
- bought a kick-ass jacket.
- bought a whole lot of CDs.
- got a credit card.
Right....so the list above doesn't look too good. Basically a series of unfortunate events, coupled with a lot of spending. I'm beginning to see how shopping therapy actually works. My verdict for this year: it sucked. It was mostly bad. I went through a series of minor depressions, realised that I don't really like my chosen career path, and have absolutely nothing to look forward to.
Here's to hoping the new year will be better, and not worse. Status quo would be quite horrible too.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
You can't take it with you anyway.
My last surviving grandparent passed away yesterday. She was 80-ish, I don't know the details. May God find a nice place for her soul, wherever she's bound for. I'm not particularly sad. She had a good, long life.
Anyway, what I really want to write about here is the tangent my mind went off after turning to concept of death and mortality over and over in my head after a while. Specifically, I was thinking about wills and inheritances. I can understand the rationale behind such things, I just don't agree with them. Barring some very specific circumstances, I cannot understand why families would bicker over who gets what when the patriarch/matriarch leaves this mortal coil.
Reasons range from a sense of entitlement and what is "proper and appropriate", to wondering who the geezer loved more based on who got more loot, to just just plain greed and avarice. Frankly, I find it all utter bullshit.
I don't like the idea of segmenting whatever wealth I have to any hypothetical progeny I may sire when I finally bite it. I figure that I would have raised them up to be independent and stable, they shouldn't need anything from me after they're all grown up. I don't want the family fracturing over something as trivial as inheritances. Therefore, I plan to blow most of whatever retirement money I may have or give it away to charity when my time finally comes. The kids would get a few sentimental mementos and personal effects. Perhaps a little money, for very specific uses like education and whatnot, but nothing else. "Assets" like the house and other baloney will be sold off, the proceeds donated to whatever cause strikes my fancy before I kick the bucket. The argument "but I want to make sure that my children are taken care of when I die" is highly condescending and insulting. Do you really think they are so worthless that they would not be able to pull through life without your post-mortem assistance? And if they are....well who cares, you're already dead. They are no longer your problem.
Likewise, I have no problems if my parents decide to do the same thing, or give everything to my sisters and me nothing at all. It's their stuff, they get to choose what they want to do with it. I don't need their material wealth to make me happy. Fighting over any sort of inheritance is stupid, and the blame for any negative effects should be equally shared between the deceased and the squabbling siblings and God knows what other parties decide to lay claim to the booty.
Anyway, what I really want to write about here is the tangent my mind went off after turning to concept of death and mortality over and over in my head after a while. Specifically, I was thinking about wills and inheritances. I can understand the rationale behind such things, I just don't agree with them. Barring some very specific circumstances, I cannot understand why families would bicker over who gets what when the patriarch/matriarch leaves this mortal coil.
Reasons range from a sense of entitlement and what is "proper and appropriate", to wondering who the geezer loved more based on who got more loot, to just just plain greed and avarice. Frankly, I find it all utter bullshit.
I don't like the idea of segmenting whatever wealth I have to any hypothetical progeny I may sire when I finally bite it. I figure that I would have raised them up to be independent and stable, they shouldn't need anything from me after they're all grown up. I don't want the family fracturing over something as trivial as inheritances. Therefore, I plan to blow most of whatever retirement money I may have or give it away to charity when my time finally comes. The kids would get a few sentimental mementos and personal effects. Perhaps a little money, for very specific uses like education and whatnot, but nothing else. "Assets" like the house and other baloney will be sold off, the proceeds donated to whatever cause strikes my fancy before I kick the bucket. The argument "but I want to make sure that my children are taken care of when I die" is highly condescending and insulting. Do you really think they are so worthless that they would not be able to pull through life without your post-mortem assistance? And if they are....well who cares, you're already dead. They are no longer your problem.
Likewise, I have no problems if my parents decide to do the same thing, or give everything to my sisters and me nothing at all. It's their stuff, they get to choose what they want to do with it. I don't need their material wealth to make me happy. Fighting over any sort of inheritance is stupid, and the blame for any negative effects should be equally shared between the deceased and the squabbling siblings and God knows what other parties decide to lay claim to the booty.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Your subconscious opinion on certain things.
Specifically, what home is, or was. "Oh bother, ANOTHER dream-based topic." I can hear the groans already.
As usual, I can't remember the specifics of my dream. All I can recall is that I was leaving home, and I didn't want to, but I had no choice. I was going around the place, shutting windows and closing doors and covering stuff with dust protectors (I know! So unlike me!) and sighing and feeling vaguely angry and yet powerless to stop the unseen power forcing me to leave my humble abode.
The interesting thing here is that, the message driven was that I was leaving home, but it wasn't my CURRENT home. The home in my dream was an old apartment that we moved out of some time in 1998. I can still remember its details clearly, and come to think of it, whenever I dream of the concept of home, that's the place that pops up. I suppose the place where you spent the majority of your rational childhood is the one which your subconscious mind will forever call home. It need not be a particularly happy place, or a safe one (There was a death in the opposite house...hahaha). As long as it is constant, and familiar.
This growing up thing sucks. I want to go back to a time when I had less concerns, less worries, less heartache and pain. I want to return to the state where I did not have any dreams or ambitions apart from doing well in all those silly annual school examinations. I want to revert to a time of utter irresponsibility, where my mistakes did not directly affect someone else's livelihood.
I want to go home. The home in my memories.
P.S.: I am the king of tangents.
As usual, I can't remember the specifics of my dream. All I can recall is that I was leaving home, and I didn't want to, but I had no choice. I was going around the place, shutting windows and closing doors and covering stuff with dust protectors (I know! So unlike me!) and sighing and feeling vaguely angry and yet powerless to stop the unseen power forcing me to leave my humble abode.
The interesting thing here is that, the message driven was that I was leaving home, but it wasn't my CURRENT home. The home in my dream was an old apartment that we moved out of some time in 1998. I can still remember its details clearly, and come to think of it, whenever I dream of the concept of home, that's the place that pops up. I suppose the place where you spent the majority of your rational childhood is the one which your subconscious mind will forever call home. It need not be a particularly happy place, or a safe one (There was a death in the opposite house...hahaha). As long as it is constant, and familiar.
This growing up thing sucks. I want to go back to a time when I had less concerns, less worries, less heartache and pain. I want to return to the state where I did not have any dreams or ambitions apart from doing well in all those silly annual school examinations. I want to revert to a time of utter irresponsibility, where my mistakes did not directly affect someone else's livelihood.
I want to go home. The home in my memories.
P.S.: I am the king of tangents.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
I wish I could remember my dreams.
I woke up this morning with the rapidly vanishing hint of a dream on the tip of my mind's tongue. I froze and tried my very best to remember what it was all about, but failed to garner any useful details. As I sit here typing this, all I can remember of it was that it had the heady rush of new love and an old VW van in it. I mean, new romance and an old hippie van in the same dream? It must have been really something.
This can be really frustrating for me. I don't dream a whole lot, but when I do, I get a sense that there's probably some kind of genius storyteller deep within my subconscious. It comes up with all sorts of impossible and entertaining situations where I am usually the star of the whole thing, kind of like bad fan fiction. The best part is that it seems to be fully grounded in the whole 'alternative universe' theme, where everything still follows the laws of gravity and physics and yet is completely impossible for me to replicate in real life. But it could have happened that way. Somehow.
I have thought about keeping a dream diary, but honestly, I cannot fathom myself furiously scribbling into a spiral-bound notepad upon awakening. I'm more likely to stare at you blankly for a few seconds before lurching over the bedrails and shuffling to the kitchen to get a glass of water. This body was not made for instant action.
From my hazy recollection (and probably imagination) of what dreams I have had, there are never any action-filled scenes and explosions. All I get are hints of possibly strong emotions and drama going on. People speak directly into my mind instead of moving their lips, and I already know what's going to happen but am unable to do anything about it as my avatar in the dream acts out his role flawlessly in a story that has me gripping the edge of my ethereal seat.
I have read opinions which surmise that dreams are basically fragments of feelings and memories that the mind drags up and manipulates for its own amusement and play, while the body rests. It does not necessarily reflect inner feelings or the subconscious mind itself. I'm not sure how accurate this is, so I'll be ignorant and think that this is probably partly true, but that the parts of you that you repress in your waking hours for whatever reason also surfaces at this time. This is why I can empathise with the actor playing me in my dreams, but it's not something that I can repeat in real life.
I am glad that dreams are only dreams. But there are some times that I wish fervently for them to come true, even if all I can remember of them is the lingering sense of some deep-seated emotion and a familiar face or two.
I'm not making sense, I know.
This can be really frustrating for me. I don't dream a whole lot, but when I do, I get a sense that there's probably some kind of genius storyteller deep within my subconscious. It comes up with all sorts of impossible and entertaining situations where I am usually the star of the whole thing, kind of like bad fan fiction. The best part is that it seems to be fully grounded in the whole 'alternative universe' theme, where everything still follows the laws of gravity and physics and yet is completely impossible for me to replicate in real life. But it could have happened that way. Somehow.
I have thought about keeping a dream diary, but honestly, I cannot fathom myself furiously scribbling into a spiral-bound notepad upon awakening. I'm more likely to stare at you blankly for a few seconds before lurching over the bedrails and shuffling to the kitchen to get a glass of water. This body was not made for instant action.
From my hazy recollection (and probably imagination) of what dreams I have had, there are never any action-filled scenes and explosions. All I get are hints of possibly strong emotions and drama going on. People speak directly into my mind instead of moving their lips, and I already know what's going to happen but am unable to do anything about it as my avatar in the dream acts out his role flawlessly in a story that has me gripping the edge of my ethereal seat.
I have read opinions which surmise that dreams are basically fragments of feelings and memories that the mind drags up and manipulates for its own amusement and play, while the body rests. It does not necessarily reflect inner feelings or the subconscious mind itself. I'm not sure how accurate this is, so I'll be ignorant and think that this is probably partly true, but that the parts of you that you repress in your waking hours for whatever reason also surfaces at this time. This is why I can empathise with the actor playing me in my dreams, but it's not something that I can repeat in real life.
I am glad that dreams are only dreams. But there are some times that I wish fervently for them to come true, even if all I can remember of them is the lingering sense of some deep-seated emotion and a familiar face or two.
I'm not making sense, I know.
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