Hello.

You will have to forgive me.

At this moment,

I’m having a little trouble with Perspective.

You see,

The problem in believing that you can write almost everything, and then

finding yourself not having written for the past good several months

can do many things to the Writing.

I think it’s the way the brain works, sometimes. If it’s a muscle, constant use of it is constant exercise. Though, I believe,

that if writing is one way to set the mind free,

then what I’ve really been doing is keeping the brain locked up, while it defecates stagnant ideas and wallows in it, always looking outwards believing that

Words and Stories and Ideas and Songs

are out there, and that one day it’ll reach it and be amongst it, where it belongs.

So.

My long-unused brain right now has no Perspective.

It’s not to say like it is not functioning. It just doesn’t – couldn’t – see things in that angle that makes it feel like it’s seeing something wonderful. Or different. Or fascinating. Or in the way that makes it wonder if there’s more to it, and seeing that Something More, and asking the What Else’s and What If’s and What Would Happen’s and Why Not’s.

It would only see things rigidly. Like right now, it could only

See things like it’s on the Right.

Or things like it’s on the Wrong Left.

Most times it sees things Straight; boringly Centred and stiff and predictable.

Sometimes it wouldn’t see things properly at all, preferring, instead, to be

S

        C

                A

                        T

                                T

              E

  R

B

                                                                 R

                                                            A

                                                                       I

N

        E

D,

and not at all comprehensible or helpful.

So I’m writing now, or at least, I think I am. What with the brain being like this,

the most that I could manage is total gibber`#%&@*@ish, or at least

something of a poor attempt

at trying to make a visual representation of how my

isn’t being very writerly.

It’s not going to be easy, because it’ll take much more than writing once to

set things better. It’ll take more words, and more sentences, and more posts and

ideas, even if I have to force it out, to keep the brain at work and writing.

And it doesn’t matter if I’m not writing right or writing well.

I just need to keep writing.

And if it’s about letting my brain get exercised and used, then it’s the sort of mental gym routine it needs.

If it’s about letting the mind go free, well;

It needs to relearn everything about Words and Stories and Ideas and Songs.

And because all I have, and perhaps ever will, are Words and Stories and Ideas and Songs (and Love), then

I better start letting it Believe again.

Dreaming may be one thing, but

In the end.

You’ll need the words to make it Real.

****

Let’s try this again:

Hello.

(Alright, much better).

I owe you an apology. One is for the above, which is pointless and unnecessary, though it might just be that walk through Stupidtown that I needed. To remind me that you can be so low to find more reasons to get back up.

Two is for not writing the things I was supposed to write, which are far too many and way too old. I think I had talked about things like the United States, and that was only one out of the 6 million things that I had wanted to write about but never had the time, nor the patience, nor the discipline and the drive.

I had worried that I had lost it all, the writing, and right now it may as well been gone. Only that I’m rather stubborn at having it around, tattered or broken as it is (not like it was wholesome or worthwhile at the first place, anyway), because – like it or not – it’s still that part of me that meant something. So here’s another shot, out of a hundred other shots, that I’d probably making until I hit something.

Anyway, life’s so far been like this:

It’s great. It’s wonderful. It’s filled with joy and a little sadness. It can be boring and it can be exciting. I did things as much as I did nothing. Had some of the new, kept a lot of the old, and had generally been moving along with life at the slowest pace as I could manage, to enjoy the little things, because things had rather picked up in pace.

I’m happy now, as happy as I could be. I’m contented, and not scarily so, because there are new challenges and new prospects that make me feel lazy and afraid and excited. All in all, life’s good, and I’m glad of it.

My name card now reads Deputy Editor, though I tell people that it only meant that I’m doing a little extra outside of writing the usual stuff. I’m busier now, which is a good thing sometimes; other times, it made me feel like putting on a helmet and riding down a highway ramp on a shopping mall trolley.

I’ve also been on a few adventures. Like going up to Cameron Highlands for the first time, and seeing this:

Which made me feel like I could move to Newcastle, or New Zealand

Or going to Thaipusam for the first time, in the midst of this.

Not depicted: someone's foot on mine, and another photographer's elbow trying squash my pancreas

And seeing this and this.

Yeap; those are fruits hooked to his back

And that's a guy hooked to his back

Or even small adventures to places like Tanjung Sepat.

Which has a Lover's Bridge that isn't very loverly 

And a crummy amusement park in i-City Shah Alam, for a walk in a giant refrigerator.

Which has been storing things with a tackiness level of 1991, like this Santa Claus (the Girl, however, is a visitor frozen in shock)

 Things that deserve its own post, because it’s 1.30 a.m. now and I ought to be asleep for tomorrow’s event.

What I can truly say is that, if you’re wondering how I’m doing and what I’ve been doing, I can tell you that I’m doing great, and I’ve been doing nice, wonderful little things.

To bed now, and telling myself that I’ll be writing about these things in the days to come. Or else, um, no video games for the month. Yeah.

Goodnight, people.