element

have you ever been "in the zone"?

of course you have.

it's when you don't feel anything in your limbs when you grip a stick, a bat, a ball, except for the power you are about to release. you do, and it's perfect, just the way you want it.

or it's when you're in that exam room, paper in front, pencil in hand. the daunting thought that this exam is worth 70% of your final grade, and that the failure of this course would mean not meeting the requirements of acquiring your degree, and it would mean another year of your life delayed, that thought is no longer in your mind. it's been taken care of. instead, your mind churns the thick analysis, supported by intricate mental calculations, working as gears meshing in a complex machine. and then you write it down.

whether you hold your breath, or you are catching your breath.. don't you love it? don't you love it when you are in the zone? when you are in your element, doing what you do best, what you trained to do for so long, and now it's time to see what you have to show for? you can't think of anything else, because you know you can't fail, because you know that when you're in the zone, it's not possible to fail.

so you're unstoppable.

so did you ever wish that you were in the zone all the time? why can't we get there, all the time?

then when it's time that you need it most, you try to pull it out, but it doesn't come. uncomfortable fidgeting, searching but not finding, and everything blows by past you, leaving you in the embarrassing dust. and it leaves you wonder, that wouldn't have happened if you were only in your element.

why can't we always be in our element?
or are we left stuck out of it, hoping to relish those short moments your element decides to make a visit?


fit, form, function.
function, fit, form.
form, fit, function.

something about april...

that softening of spring,
that brisk air concealed as the warm

or is it the rise from darkness to light
the loss of sleep for the price of that bright
sun, that makes you want to sing

eyes adjust to the dormant brown, and the green,
then bursting forth, glorious day
the death, the rebirth, the glorious life

surely it must be it, surely it must be the sheen,
like the gentle tearing of shiny wrap

so maybe it is.
so maybe it is so.
but there is just something about april that is
a soft spot in my heart.

beauty, warmth, laughter, mystery,
richness.

thinking about my tendency to be given something to do but not want to do it and pushing it off until the last minute. wondering why that is.

thoughts from a twenty-five year old

in a universe with an infinity of numbers, you are able to find two little numbers that describe exactly the years you have lived on the earth. each pair of numbers speak their own stories. one hundred is a symbol of wholeness. one whole pie. well this number is exactly one quarter of wholeness, one slice of four. no one likes their slice broken in pieces, or with a bite taken out of it.

just a number?

it was the number that said it was serious now. you wanted some kind of status, so it gave you it, maybe because it got tired of you asking for it. did it work? everyone thinks that it did.

it teaches you things too. it told me that no matter what the new number is, you will still be learning about who you are. you thought that you had figured it out already, but you change as fast as the number does. feel the uncomfortably foreign next number roll off your lips. you aren't there anymore.

but why the numbers are really there
is so that you can hide who you are behind it
and hope that no one can see through them

i contorted my body to the curve of the two and held it for as long as i could, torso forward, arms up but with nothing to hold onto. wouldn't mind taking a break. i think i'm losing balance now. could see the dim light not hidden by the shade.

like my quarter wholeness is going to burn away from the light..

every number telling its own story. why can't i tell the story? why do i have to do what it says? it's the story already written. i want to reach, but i wouldn't let me. says i can't break the rules. i wanted to break the rules so badly, write the story my way, ever so carried by the current of the story. i told you, i was drawn by them. we're all drawn by them and we listen to them, waiting for more to be heard, enjoyed and relived in our mind. but the greatest fear is the fear of writing your own story, your way.

just a number.

after a few months away from blogging, a month of writing, and countless hours trying to think, here's a post from the west. pondering dilemmas, sifting through artistic metaphors, weeding distractions trying reach the depths of something resembling a heart, revising definitions in the dictionary of life.

once i find my voice again, i'll come back.