Demon in my veins

Oh caffeine, caffeine -

exalted guanine degenerate,

won't you please release your hold on me?

Without you I am but a daytime walking zombie -

brain-dead, I am poor company,

paying attention to naught but

your absence from my body.

Yet with you,

my nights are passed sleeplessly -

where I am only relieved of you

in the spewing of badly rhyming poetry.

Caffeine, caffeine,

held in your stimulating thrall,

I am powerless with or without you.

The Xinner's guide to blogstalking (or how to waste away your afternoon)

What made me really get into blogging way back in '03, was that I've always a bit of a people-watcher, and so really enjoyed reading my friends' blogs. Their thoughts and perspectives on things they were experiencing (that I often knew about firsthand) revealed a side to them that I didn't really get a chance to see in real life. What you write in your blog can sometimes be quite different from what you would talk about.

As I moved from high school to university, I found I still belonged to the blogosphere, albeit a slightly different one, when one of bible study mates remarked on the existence of my blog. I suddenly realised that here too, a blogging culture existed, one which I felt I should get better acquainted with.

So, here's my guide to getting to know your blogosphere, aka blogstalking.

1. Obviously, ask. One of the primary ways you can find someone's blog is by asking them if they have one. You aren't going to find a blog if it's not there. Makes an excellent opportunity for conversation too, as it begs questions like 'why blog?' and 'what do you think of blogging?'. If you, like me, take vicarious pleasure from the reading of blogs, you might want to play that down a bit by focusing on the other person in such a conversation, as well, we all know that stalking is weird and possibly even sociopathic.
2. Blog stalking is not about targeting specific people, but getting to know your network of bloggers and the blogosphere in which you belong. Once you have the address of one person's blog, you will often easily find other blogs through links on their sidebar. Let the click-fest begin!
3. Facebook is an excellent tool for discovering someone's blog. If you check under their profile information in the sidebar, or under the info tab, you may just strike gold.
4. For most part, there is no way that a blog is not linked from some other place on the web, whether it is another person's blog, or Google, or Facebook. Have faith, if you are sufficiently determined, you will be aptly rewarded for your efforts.

Oh dear, I fear I have just opened a can of worms with regards to blogging culture, privacy and why-I-am-not-a-sociopath.

Beatitudes

1. Sunlight shining on a white picket fence against a backdrop of green
2. A cool breeze on a sunny day
3. Running against the wind
4. Running with the wind
5. Realising you're not alone
6. Dancing cheek to cheek
7. The smell of freshly laundered linen
8. The smell of someone who's just had a bath
9. The feeling of Hazeline Snow on dry skin
10. The whoosh of air in a flying leap or in the angular momentum of turning
11. An anticipated meeting of old friends
12. Colours in the afternoon sun
13. Being a part of the music
14. Good group/team dynamics
15. Meaningful conversation
16. Getting something, really understanding it, for the first time
17. The salty smell of the sea
18. Holding a stuffed toy
19. Having your hair stroked
20. Being held
21. Making someone's day
22. Finding God in the small things

A minute of silence

Interesting thing happened in the library today. I was studying when it was suddenly announced,

"It is customary that at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month we observe a minute of silence for those who have died in the war..."

14:10

Only 50 minutes more,

to 3 pm - class dismissed.

I look around at these familiar unfamiliar faces

belying what they feel and think -

I smile and look away

knowing they cannot know me

any more than I know them.

Only a few more days till I return

to a swelteringly humid little island.

Only a few more days,

but it can't come sooner.

And only far too soon before I'll be back

in another giant flea-ridden furnace.

Who really knows another's hidden landscapes? For

Each heart knows its own bitterness -

Incapacitating fears and debilitating sorrows,

private tears we never cry and never let on,

lurking in the shadows, weighing down our souls.

The little, everyday tortures we'd never dream of sharing,

we're burning in our own private little infernos.

Different ghosts haunt different corners,

different trusts I know I've broken,

different hopes misplaced in me -

another set of haunts to avoid and run away from.

Another set of demons turn me cold.

Still I try in vain.

Beneath the sweetness of smiles and

the concerted effort to turn away

the tiredness and

tightness

in my chest -

老了， 累了-

the growing apathy to

this world's concerns,

I rest on the Word

alone.

But I confess, in a hell that is both hot and cold,

the warmth of such a comfort's hard to hold.

My spirit's distance only superseded

by the distance the spiritual can seem

from my earthly fallibility.

I'd rather something more tangible, but

all the world's a stranger.

For no thing can thaw this heart,

no one else can share its joy.

Watching Memorable Walks

The other day in bible study, our leader asked us why we, or other people, might write poetry. He then asked us to write an 'If' poem as part of an exercise to introduce us to the study of Psalms. Since then, these ideas have been playing on my mind.

If asked that question in a setting where I wasn't under pressure to not answer and appear an emo-kid, I would probably say that the reason why I write poetry or enjoy art of any form is because in reality, I repress my feelings. Rather than limit them to the banality of their everyday context (petty annoyances, base desires, irrational fears), I'd rather invest them in an avenue with a higher rate of return. I get to control exactly how much I reveal, how much I explore, what the listener gets out of the poem. A poem doesn't limit you to reality, either.

I used to favour dance as the way to tell the greatest truths of myself to my audience. Poetry, I suppose is a natural extension of that. It too is focused on expression through a medium (the human body/words) and the movement inherent (in dance sequences, or the formation of sentences). It may not be about me, but in creating it, I often feels as though I were baring some part of myself that I normally keep hidden.

Even if my heart says yes, my mind says no

(based on A Walk To Remember)

If

this were yesterday, I

might've said yes to you. I was

happy to bask in the love of another,

then - I would not

be so afraid to let my heart be thawed by

the heat of your pull

on my heartstrings, and your assurance not to break them, or -

ever let them go.

But because

this is today,

I am sorry,

but my answer is no.

But even if being around you arrests my senses,

makes time stop and space irrelevant,

even if it feels like more than just another EM-pty pull, it's

just a lull - a break from reality's gravity, for today.

For even if this were yesterday,

you can't change my tomorrow.

The one where Xin wishes she was studying something else

Sometimes the human body just doesn't make any sense. The science of the way biological processes work is almost as incongruent as trying to decipher the varied motives and workings of the human mind.

Case in point, free radical damage causes mitochondrial and cellular damage that leads to aging. Anti-oxidants reduce free radical damage by eliminating free radicals through chemical reactions. Logically speaking, you'd suppose that reducing free radicals by increasing antioxidant levels would reduce free radical damage. However as antioxidants reduce free radicals, hormesis may occur. This is an increased sensitivity as a result of a reduction in the body's natural protection against free radicles that may actually result in an increased mortality.

I suppose it's the frustration of a posteriori acquisition of knowledge and understanding. At best, you can only see one or two steps behind the rationale of the way something has changed, and that means that the fundamental logic of how things work will always remain somehow behind the veil. Just like no matter how well or how long you've known someone, you never really know them.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm motivated to wade through the explosion of theories of why this or that occurs. Science is messy work, and our attempts to explain things we don't even really understand seem so laughable and vain in the wake of reality. Scientific method is hardly what I'd call intelligence at work: trial and error is more what it might be described as. In its attempts to simplify and organise life, it seems to only make things more complicated, particularly at the so-called cutting edge of the field.

Music: the upbeat

Once in a while a good singer comes along who makes music that strikes a chord (yes, pun intended). Lenka, a Sydneysider, is one such musician. Upbeat, yet introspective, she's got the I-don't-take-life-too-seriously-but-I-haven't-lost-my-ideals ethos that's so easy to fall in love with. From the moment I heard her, I heart her.

Her winsome smile and cheeky grin make her music video release of The Show very worth a gander.

For posterity's sake, here are the lyrics.

The Show

Lenka

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go, can't do it alone
I've tried and I don't know why

Slow it down, make it stop or else my heart is going to pop
'Cause it's too much, yeah it's a lot to be something I'm not
I'm a fool out of love 'cause I just can't get enough

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go, can't do it alone
I've tried and I don't know why

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out, it's bringing me down
I know I've got to let it go and just enjoy the show

The sun is hot in the sky just like a giant spotlight
The people follow the signs and synchronize in time
It's a joke nobody knows, they've got a ticket to the show

Yeah, I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go, can't do it alone
I've tried and I don't know why

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out, it's bringing me down
I know I've got to let it go and just enjoy the show
Just enjoy the show

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go, can't do it alone
I've tried and I don't know why

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out, it's bringing me down
I know I've got to let it go and just enjoy the show
Just enjoy the show, just enjoy the show

I want my money back, I want my money back
I want my money back, just enjoy the show
I want my money back, I want my money back
I want my money back, just enjoy the show

What a woman

I was mooching around today, and found out about Aimee Mullins. Wow.

Note to self

Head over heart -

Anatomically,

Alphabetically,

Always, sensibly.