Sunday, November 06, 2005 // 2:02 AM

i can't tell you about you, i can only tell you about me.

i need a point, don't you need a point? don't you have a point, already, even if you don't really consciously pursue it, even if you don't even fully agree with it? i have a point, i have a few points, i can't live behind just one. i don't think anyone can (can they?) some times you can go on without thinking for long stretches of time. and sometimes you hit a pebble in the road, you hit a pothole, and you notice that you've been moving in a certain direction, on a certain path. and at those points if you take the time to pause and inspect your surroundings you might find them. mighty unfamiliar. mighty unfamiliar, or mighty undesirable. and. here, where is here? and how how how how how did you get here, anyway?

i don't know if i believe in truth anymore, you know the whole thing about perceptions, about our separate versions of the world. i can't decide about this, me and myself. i can't properly decide whether or not there is a point to all this endless thinking, that i seem to be doing.

i think. sebbie's description of me is really accurate, the one about me being like a little kid wanting to know why the sky is blue. me and all my questions, me and all my whywhywhywhywhy. i. don't know why i'm asking all these questions, really. maybe it's the manifestation of my nervous energy, sometimes.

silence, i would like to. hold you in my hands, for a while. silence would emit warmth, cupped in my palms, placid. silence i think you would be pleasant, if i could. find you like that, every once in a while.

rummaging through the Mess that i am surrounded by, and stumbling upon the things written years, years ago. not the above, the above was written a few weeks ago under circumstances that i now fail to recall. but anyway. my antagonism, years old, years past. it's... it's a strange, strange idea, i feel so. loyal and yet disjointed from that part of myself. could it be that i've grown up, started to see things from a different angle.

i think i should stop looking ahead, at things, and thinking i could brace myself for them. i'm terrified, really i am, fundamentally i am terrified. i really don't know life at all.

choo, miss choo, i remember you, you and the joni mitchell song, which spoke softly to me, not so much at the moment as from the memory, the memory of that day, when you were made vulnerable (by yourself) for a few moments, to the entire class, and i spoke up, and i think i said something about choice, that i did and did not feel, or knew and did not feel, and i suspect, i couldn't help suspecting, you knew and did not truly feel, too. and i did not feel Completely Insensitive in retrospect because i remember, at that moment, i could feel exactly as you felt, or at least, i could recognize it, and i, i could see myself in those shoes of yours, many many years from now, and remembering this moment, that moment, of half being able to guess exactly where i am headed, for the rest of my life.

(i have a sudden craving for xiao bai cai. i don't dare to tell ma how much i like xiao bai cai, for fear that she will cook it everyday. (you know how parents are, you know how people are) not that i would be at home to eat it, everyday, i keep telling ma to stop saying that we're dysfunctional, because we are not we are just a 21st Century Family and she shakes her head and i wonder: are we? because we can talk, but we don't: i am out every single day, i am not eating her healthy balanced meals, dinners even, i feel like i am on a perpetual rush. but she worries, constantly, as a mother does, and her efforts to get to me are endearing, for example, trying to Arrange A Lunch Appointment with me next week, it is as if she is an old friend who wants to catch up with me, or like i am a fully grown adult with my full schedule and she being ten years older than she really is, an old lady (she is not old, yet) trying to stick limb into the life of the offspring that has long since flown the nest (have i flown the nest?). the when are you free? when do you have time in your schedule for lunch with me?, acknowledging and accepting my business (and subsequently, really, my individuality), without the bitching or bitterness that she knows, she knows, will piss me off. hello ma i love you because. )

by the way, i refuse to apologize for wanting to intellectualise, at least sometimes, it is not as if i am the sole renegade in the conversation. i have done too much apologizing and i don't think it is necessarily bad for someone else to have themselves less than convenienced.