Breaking down...

Now, how often has that happened this year?

At least 4 times. And its only July.

Sigh...


Sometimes I wonder about the decisions I make - Not that I can rectify them by wondering enough, but at least be able to strike better ones in the future. I wonder...Seriously. Is there anything to be achieved through the ferociously hapless endeavour of education, at least in this way? Because I can't find myself anything more than overly inundated, overly fatigued, and less than satisfactorily getting back the fruits of my labour that are quite obviously less than proportionate in both nature and volume...What do they call that again? Inelasticity? 

But then again who is able to dictate the grossly complicated formula of success for any person, when in fact this would be undeniably unique and hence nearly impossible to determine? 

Right now, there's just this part of me that really wishes I had more time to analyse how to better deal with my problems rather than mindlessly employing the trial-and-error method...More errors than trials obviously...And now I realize that I've lost more time that I could ever have afforded...But there's no use mulling over the time lost, but more importantly make do with whatever remainder that remains pristine...

The thing about time would be that it always would have a pristine nature about it. We do have the capacity to alter ourselves in order to fit for the better of possibilities. The problem is that most (retarded and under-informed human beings, much like myself) would not realize or conveniently forget this and choose to drag on the quagmire of doubts, inadequacies, and problems of yesterday to today, and perhaps yet another fortnight. It would not be a surprise. Yesterday's problems, meagre and trifle and embarassing as they may be, can choose to fade into nothingness if one allows it to. It can be forgotten. This is the anti-thesis for History - the recording of past events in order to remember their significance to this place. This further supports that things of the past can be forgotten in due time if one allows it.

There's this part of me right now who's wishing that time can be turned ala-Time Turner or whatever...Or that deux ex machina actually exists...But then again perhaps this would be the lesson our generation needs to learn - that things are not as instant nor as flexibly manipulatable as modern media tends to disguise things to be. And as much as we would like to dream that we could turn back time and just spend it on more meaningful pursuits...But one needs to consider that this is the path of life in with the past you has chosen to travail in. And perhaps one needs to trust in the relative wisdom (if any) his past self has decided to indulge.

I think I'm rather precocious. And I'd rather have lived my life in the way most would consider "average" in order to actually have a steady rate of maturity be imbued upon me. The kind that normal kids get to experience, those who actually have normal beginnings. I don't mind being colourlessly pedestrian, as long as I have my own peace. What one would give to not experience the kind of haphazard spewing of emotion in a single, or rapid succession of events that dicates upon one's inherent trait of self-preservation - mature or die. Not in the most literal of forms, but moreso figuratively. And I shall let you, my reader who has randomly stumbled upon this odd piece of unidentiable jumble of words, assess this on your own accord.