화요일, 7월 27, 2004
the rain in spain falls mainly on the plain.

it's been some time since i last experienced a thunderstorm of such proportions. right now my mum's main complaint is that the clothes she put out to dry are going to be ruined, and yeah, she's right. they probably are going to be ruined if my dad, who's at home, forgot to extend the canopy to protect them from being drenched. so much for the wayang that is acted out day after day by all housewives who give two hoots about their washing, and the ever-elusive state of enlightenment that is getting clothes that are clean, pressed, dropping and mud free, and with a lack of mildew stains.

right, enough domesticity. 

i wonder why people are sometimes so hungry for glory that they go back on their word, time and time again, all in a desperate bid to throw more of the spotlight on themselves? why the false veneer of magnanimity to make yourself look so generous, and worst of all, getting a 'common consensus' from everyone else, but leaving others out?

it's often big events that show the inner workings of people. yeah, i may be cynical, but my conscience still pricks me when i see things like that happening about me.

there are so many questions that arise from the whole enterprise. the delicate innuendo that surfaces when a wrong step is taken might spell certain doom. being trapped in a veritable minefield, with division among the main ranks itself, each step along the way becomes heavier and harder, when spears are pointed towards the throats of the soldiers, and the commander is weak. the enmity goes unnoticed, with the voice of the favoured rising high over the crowds. the people are not the ones to suffer -- they are not the ones fighting the war.

why then, have we pitted ourselves against one another in this way? going against the sweet, fairy-tale ideas of what a group should be, we have divided ourselves into different factions, adding our own agendas on to the main plan haphazardly, as and when we like. the love that should be there was forced to die and wither a long time ago, smothered by bitter jealousy at the poisoned hands of those who wished its demise.

all hands grabbing and picking at the carcass for the choicest bits, all desperate to claim the glory and fame for themselves, all mortally afraid of losing out to the next person. who needs to be persecuted for their religion, and who needs to feel ousted because they choose not to bend to outside pressures? it taints the pureness of the legacy with a thousand inkblots which rend the fabric in a thousand different ways, till all that is left are rags.

your achievements do not define the person you are.

neither does the amount of money you have.

nor your fame.

nor the lengths you go to for it.

your heart does.

what you profess to believe does not justify the parody of the life you lead.

you do not love, you only patronise those who you deem lesser than you, and hate those you fear out of inferiority.

wake up, you have not built a secure throne for yourself.

i am almost losing spirit in hoping for a change, and look now with dull eyes and grim lips upon the vacuum that resides in your soul, that you seek to fill with the material.