Blogging, From a Blogger’s Perspective

Why the heck would anyone make his journal available to virtually everyone by publishing on the Internet?

A peep from the door that stands ajar confirms that mom is immersed in the evening soap drama and my brother is engrossed in his Pokemon cards; dad hasn’t returned from work yet. Okay, the coast is clear!

I have promised myself not to over-indulge in this new-found obsession of mine, but the irrepressible compulsion rages in the least expected moment and whenever that happens, it renders all resistance futile. So, as if a drug user suffering from withdrawal syndrome, I have the computer switched on. Then, from the innards of my messy folders, I open the file. The name I gave it is obscure so as not to raise any alarm lest someone in the family meanders and accidentally bumps into the file which I have kept secret.

A dialog box prompts me for the twelve-lettered password, which I can now type with great dexterity; faster than you can say “abracadabra”. Ah, at last! The outlet to relieve myself of the stress I’m suffering! Everything is a bliss when it comes to blogging!

Though “web logging” aka “blogging” cannot be found in my obsolete edition of “Contemporary English Dictionary”, it is fast catching up as a new form of hobby. A blog, in short, is an online journal. Yes, it is a diary which you publish on the Internet for web surfers to read all about yourself.

“Huh? Isn’t a journal supposed to be private? Why the heck would anyone make his journal available to virtually everyone by publishing it on the Internet?” you ask. “Only psychos would do that!” Perhaps, I am a psycho. But by the way, just in case you don’t know – there are 5,745,369 psychos out there as well. And the number of Internet users keeping blogs is ever-growing.

The quintessence of blogging is that it gives a hand to the freedom of speech, to a certain extent, that is. A blogger can virtually post anything on his blog: from personal grouses to local happenings; from daily journal to the number of trips he makes to the toilet everyday. For me, I write on topics close to heart, which sometimes leads me into divulging many an issue too personal. Believe me, the notion that someone out there is reading your blog more or less halves the emotional burden you are shouldering and doubles the joy.

When my friend certified the death of his few-month-old blog, I found it quite incredulous. He claimed to have nothing to post on his blog, which came to me as ironical as Robin Hood denying that he can’t shoot an arrow. In reality, he is apparently a better writer than I am, considering the creative stories he has written over the years in high school. Perhaps, low readership is not very much a fillip to him. After all, bloggers just don’t really go about advertising their blogs. As a matter of fact, the rate of readership is governed by the head-scratching mathematics of random probability – it is rather by sheer chance and luck that someone-from-somewhere-out-there, who is reading the blog of someone-from-elsewhere-in-the-world, decides to click on the “next blog” button and gets himself directed to your blog.

I am about to contradict myself by saying that I publish my journal on the web, and yet keep it a secret from my family. Indeed, my furtive behaviour needs some explaining, which, strangely, I can’t offer. It is as abstruse to you as it is to me that I somehow find it more comfortable an idea in confiding in a blog rather than confiding in someone in the family.

Blogging may be a new form of hobby that has attracted the interest of a huge crowd since the late 1990s. Nevertheless, here is a word of caution for those of you out there who are thinking of starting a blog: blogging is seriously contagious. I have seen it spreading from one friend to another, and quite a number of them are now hopelessly addicted. Do give serious thought to it before you make your choice!

Secrets

They say he who keeps his secrets well is unwise
For a sagacious man keeps no secret
They say a secret confided is a burden halved

I used to believe them…

I divulged my secrets, and had had my share of grief
So fear not of bringing secrets to the grave
For it is a calm harbour for false hopes and dreams

Now, I believe them not…

I believe in keeping secrets to myself
For the revelation brings nothing but woes
I believe a secret well-guarded is a sorrow halved

An Illusion, A Deception

Look at this wretched mortal
Run down by despair
Yet is boasting with pride
Swept by failures
Yet is brimming with confidence
Sanguinity? Sang-froid?
No! I call it ignorance
I call it lies

You!
Do you feel bare and naked wihout the mask?
Shed it off! And World
Behold the true nature of this deceitful being
Have I not told you?
It is just an illusion, a deception…
Beneath whatever he presents to the World
Is nothing but a feeble soul
Battered by harsh reality and cold truth
Not once, not twice, but thrice
Each one before the previous recedes

The Geometry of Love

In the geometry of love, everything is triangular. ~The Rule of Four

I am half-way through The Rule of Four, a bestseller which ranks next to The Da Vinci Code. Though the story is built upon a cultural account of a Renaissance text, it also tells of the bittersweet moments and dilemmas of the coming-of-age, which I could easily relate to as a teenager at the verge of adulthood.

Love draws lines between us like an astronomer plotting constellation from stars, joining points into patterns that have no basis in nature. As Providence would have it, one star somehow gets connected to a particular one, out of the millions out there. Together, they form a binary star, revolving around a common centre under mutual attraction.

But alas! Not all stars are destined to be thus, for the gravitation may not mutual but one without reciprocal, as opposed to the logics provided by physics. One of the stars moves away, either willingly or not, as if by the effects of a centrifuge; the other one tries to undo the process of detachment while blaming the forces of nature which has gone awry in this disorderly world.

Nevertheless, the latter knows from the start that there are not only two stars in the field but three, and the laws of physics still hold after all, for the star he is chasing after is gravitating towards the stronger, third star.

Yet, he refuses to acknowledge the existence of this star, as if he could win the race by remaining ignorant. So, follow as he may, but time will finally prove his efforts vain. Thus, the two stars eventually form a binary star of their own, leaving him in a quandary. In the end, he has to accept the fact that he has been the third star all the while, which somehow got enmeshed in the quagmire. And thus, the triangle has now been resolved into a simple, straight line, joining not three, but two points.

Three weeks ago, the training camp offered me an excuse to take leave from my reeling life, or rather, presented me the opportunity to form a triangle of my own to offset the effects of the distant star I am chasing in vain. In the two weeks’ time, physics has become my raison d’etre and for the moment, I thought the star is nothing but a quasar that has cease to illuminate my world, however bright it might have been.

But, today, a week after the fateful call, I still find it hard to recompose myself. Books may offer relieve, but only temporarily; friends may draw me away from any burdening thoughts, but not long enough. Worse, I can no longer listen to my favourite songs without being moved, for they invoke a certain unpleasant feeling I have tried to bury within the psyche.

Love conquers all. This poetic-sounding motto is misunderstood by ten persons out of ten, thanks to Chaucer, if Agostino Carracci’s view were to be accepted, Love is not supposed to be on your side. You fight with him; you try to undo what he does to others. But he’s too powerful. No matter how much we suffer, our hardships cannot move him. And this is the interpretation that I prefer.

O, mighty Eros! Son of Aphrodite, god of love, thou art deified by many and despised by the rancoured lot whom you have caused grievious hurt! I concede defeat; I relinquish the pursuit! Woe is me for I suffer from the aftermath of the battle long-lost before it was fought…

Confessed, For Better or Worse

And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on. ~Lord Byron

I had had a crush on a girl for quite some time; yet, I had neither the courage nor the opportunity to confess to her my feelings. It was recently by chance that an unexpected development took place, leaving me no choice but to pour out my heart, for better or worse.

It all began during my trip to Langkawi for a training session, when she sent me a message on the cell phone, wanting to know if I had a crush on her. Good heavens, I had never thought she would ask so! The first question that popped up in my head was how she managed to find out that little secret of mine which I have kept to myself. I had not expected anyone to arrive at that conclusion, since I had always failed to muster the courage to make a move, well, at least not in front of the others. Okay, okay, I did call her when I was away from Penang occasionally but I do not think it would drive me into asking such a bold question if I were her. Anyway, I later found out from her that it is whence she drawn the inference.

Should I tell her tell her everything? It was a fateful decision hard to be made. What if it is just a practical joke pulled by one of her friends? After all, some of my friends do have the uncanny knack of sending unsolicited messages using others’ cell phone, and yes, without consent. Sometimes, the owner will then have a tough time trying to explain to the recipients but only to be replied with nasal disdain.

What will happen if I confess my feelings to her? Will she believe me? Will she be so shocked as to try to stay away from me? What is she going to say and how will she react? One hundred and one possibilities ran through my mind like a train, leaving me behind in dilemma, staring down the tracks and uncertain of what course of action to take.

In the end, I decided to send her a reply instead of giving her a call, as I feared I would be at a loss on what to say. Le moment de vérité, at last. I told her frankly that it would be against my will if I were to deny my feelings. Conversely, if I were to confess to her, I could not predict her reactions. In the end, I returned her the question instead of giving her a direct answer. “I have a boyfriend.” Her reply to that was both brief and sharp, but not quite far from what I expected; I was very well aware that she is dating someone with apparent élan.

That’s the end of the story, I thought, until she later sent me a message that night, asking if I was mad at her. It was then I thought it necessary to call her and to sort things out, which I am glad I did. It came to me as a shock that she was able to handle the situation with a rational and open mind. For that, she earned my respect even more. That night, she told me frankly that she really did not know that I would have a crush on her. With great humility, she said she did not expect me to fall in love with her as she deems herself a girl with modest looks, though in reality, her boyfriend faces great competition from his fellow peers. Nevertheless, she turned them down as she loves her current boyfriend much.

Some people say that it makes them feel better when they pour out their heart, but I have to disagree with them. Before this, I secretly harbour some hope of gaining her love and believe me, keeping secrets is a great burden to bear; now that I am rejected, though in a gentle manner, it hurts much that even my faintest hope is splintered.

Anyway, I am thankful to her for turning me down in the most unhurtful way possible and also willing to comfort me, realising how I must have felt. Heck, she nearly became a matchmaker, asking me to consider some of her friends! “No, thanks!” I told her.

I still find it hard to accept the cold truth and to move on with life. Hopefully, time will be able to mend this ragged heart of mine. In the meantime, she is still the girl of my dreams…