greatness part 1

in the past few months of blogging silence, i've spent much of my time thinking about greatness. i let it sit on my hand, feeling its weight, grasping its elusive textures and contours, formless yet gloriously obvious. you would know greatness when you see greatness. but when you search for the path, it escapes you like graceful deer in a heavy forest. how do you become great?

i think all of our lives are asking that question. and ever since we were small children, we've been fabricating make believe answers for the lofty question. we grow up and foolishly think that we've got it all figured out, greatness at hand. my first principle of greatness was humour. i saw that the funny people were always the most loved and the most popular, and that was what i wanted. so i made it a life goal to be a funny guy, emersed myself in the art of sarcasm, subtle wordplay. blunt truths, expert comedic timing and creative genius, practiced and perfected. unexpectedly, this was not well received everywhere, leaving a laughter that was hollow, empty. quiet.

then there was the arts and sciences. creativity and intellect. the intellect has become a cornerstone of who i am. the more you know, the more you can offer to those around you, the greater you can be. there was a heavy emphasis on reading, learning, thinking and reflecting on the world and of its deepest realms of thought. the arts had initially been thurst upon me, led first by grueling training sessions of music resembling certain torture scenarios, but eventually developing into a keen interest, coming to its own. and ultimately the coming together of both faculties was the art of the written word. writing. the beauty of life is embedded a gem of an invention: the story. the depth of knowledge and the artistry of music could be utilized simultaneously to create a synergistically beautiful and powerful piece. unfortunately, both faculties had also diverged upon a formidable obstacle: hard work.

options were running thin. i had little hope in the faculty of the phsyical sport. historically i had not been good (not even great) at sports, and there was no sign of this changing throughout the years. but i realized that if one showed interest in a sport, you didn't have to be great at it. you just needed to try, and then have fun with it. and as long as you knew enough about the right sports teams, then you were good. but not great. to my fortune, i learnt that the many years of frustration of not being good at some sport, getting dominated by the more athletic, the more skilled and the physically superior peers around me, was normal and acceptable. thank you God that greatness is not measured by this because i would have absolutely no hope here.

there is one more thing that i can say about greatness to me. people. i think that great people care about other people. my life had changed one fateful day when i was in grade 7 with these 8 numbers: 27830663. my first ICQ account. the world of instant messaging had opened the realm of communication like never before, and i can honestly say that my sleep habits began to change that very day. it was fun, but it was also relentless, unwavering, and to this day that i would have used every tool in my chatting arsenal just to see how a friend is doing and how i could make their day better, or how we could get to know each other more, or just to make them laugh. finally, nothing bad to say here.

so with that foundation, i had felt ready to take on anything. i was on the brink of greatness, right?
well i just told you that victor lau the great was just a guy who was kinda funny, was above average in music and knew a bit more stuff, and was bad at sports and spent his time talking to a lot of people. that's not that great. except that i was the only one that thought i was one of a kind.

okay, so if i don't have it right, what are some other people doing? i started to look arouund.
i didn't like what i saw. the prevalence of what could only be obscurely labelled "pop culture", was king. the ability to replicate that song, that dance, the celebration of the mere playing of the song, the actual culture that those artists produced. what was the purpose of posing like a gangster in a photo, or acting like one? or even resembling just parts of their lifestyle? to me, that is the opposite of greatness. the rebel nature for the purpose of greatness can only be true if there were tangible (and legal) results. some people lived like they only can be with those of a certain level of greatness, and others outside that are secondary. this felt to me like an insult to the one thing i thought i was okay at. if all these things are what makes people great, then something is wrong because i didn't think it was all that great.

something is wrong.

please stay tuned for part two.

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.