Whirlpool of emotions

Hi guys. I haven't been blogging for quite a while, and I haven't even have the time to respond to people in shouting in my cbox. I apologize for not being able to reply to your comments, spend time visiting your web, or leaving a comment in your site. I probably won't have the drive to reply to all of you guys if my situation doesn't improve.

I am currently occupied, often with a depressing feel knowing that I might not have it takes to achieve what I want right now. I've tried hard, but results so far are depressing. This has more to do with my career life. Currently I'm jobless and the idea of not being productive to the society is damn depressing. It is not like I do not know where I want to be, rather I'm having difficulty getting in.

Anyway, I've written an article during my lowest point and here it is:

----Whirlpool of Emotions----

[Confession]

Mixed Feeling is a thrill, a roller coaster ride that I could force myself to enjoy it if I want to. But truth is I hate them. Joy, sadness, satisfaction, depression, enthusiasm, lethargy, its a whirlpool of emotions swirling deep within me. An enormous almost equal mix of yin energy and yang energy violently blend together in a humanly body.

Just when I was about to delve myself in depression, the crave for the attention, the satisfaction and my past achievement had to mess it all up by pulling me back to the center of it all. Just when I was about to walk in the tranquil cornfield with butterflies and blooming flower, the heavy scent of stinking stormy rain had ruin it all.

What is with all these emotions that I'm feeling right now. It is as if each of these emotions have a personality of their own and they are all seeking for attention. Even Ignorance, it has consistently telling me to ignore all these other losers. Consistency is another bastard, constantly reminding how impermanent everything is.

It is an experience I've never felt before and it feels terrible. Usually its the other around, normally I would feel good experiecing a new sensation, the feeling of venturing into unchartered territory is suppose to be an exciting one. But this time, i'm not so sure. I was excited, but now I fear that I could be trapped in this forever. And as we all know, fear paralyzes all of us including the all joyful energetic feeling of Excitement.

Despite the mess I'm in now, I know I could control it all. Question is: Do I want to assume control and end it all? The only way I know how to end it, is to kill everything off including the essential life force that supports the foundation pillars of these emotions.

I feel powerful knowing I can contain it all, knowing that I could control all this, yet I feel so powerless as its the most idiotic act to snuff out my own candle.

What other alternatives do I have If ending it all is not an option? How else can I embrace this feeling with grace? I could ask million of questions whole day long and never be open to any solutions, for I know these solutions are no different from my own emotions. They too seek to control my mind with their never-ending attempt to brainwash me.

I am life, yet I'm being controlled by it. I could control it all, but it could be the end of me. I guess what they say is true, seeing is believing: Looks like there isn't much I can do. Ironic part is, I know I can change this. I know there is so much more that I can do. Only if I knew what to do.

"The core of it all, that whirlpool was his favourite place. If there is one place where he could entrust his prized memories, it would be in the whirlpool. If there is one place where he could dump his darkest secret, it would be in the same whirlpool"
---- 3POINT8

----Written by 3POINT8----

PS: I want to get into management consultancy! That is perhaps the hardest career path to get in. Time is of an essence. I'm hoping to get in before my motivation goes down to zero.
[Btw, if you know me personally, do console me when you see me online. If you do not know me personally and want to help out. Thanks. you are kind person]

Thanks for Sharing

----Thanks for Sharing----

[A Fiction]

A million thoughts, each scuffled to attract attention. Out those million thoughts, only a couple of them were prominent enough to linger in his mind for more than a second. Those thoughts were:
1) This state of silence is getting uncomfortable. Say something! Anything!
2) You barely know me and you shared your deepest secret. I’m just a stranger, why are you doing this?
3) Gee….thanks for sharing. I feel honored.

There was this awkward long silence. She looked weary and depressed while he was trying hard to think of something to say. Deep inside he figured: “maybe cheering her is out of my league. Dude, just say something to keep the conversation alive. Anything!”

Had he not be an introvert, this silence wouldn’t have lasted so long. After a long battle with his inner mind, he finally figured something to say. The moment just before he exerts the muscles of his vocal cord, she casually turned around breaking eye contact.

Despaired, he changed his mind to say nothing as this awkward silence continues. She walked away, grabbed her novel, cuddled on the sofa and started flipping pages as her eyes locked within those mini-sized words. Throughout the whole thing, he stared at her actions with eager eyes as if he was going to make a permanent record of this moment in his mind. He did this because it has been a long time since he last felt accepted by a person.

As she was reading her novel, he grabs a pen and scribble his emotions on a piece of post-it-note. On the next page of the post-it-note, he scribbled a personal message for her. He was cautious while he wrote those words because he would feel vulnerable if someone noticed his actions.

He was waiting for the perfect time to slip the note in her bag. In order to do so, he had to wait till she was away from her bag, or while she was asleep. From the way it seems, she had nowhere to go, so the only chance he could get to slip the note was when she goes to bed.

That night was perhaps one of his most arduous times ever in his life. His eyelids were getting heavier and he could barely keep himself awake. At 4.44am, it felt as if it was the 38th time she opened her jaw grasping for fresh air when in reality it was the third time she yawned.

---

Fast-forward to next morning when he woke up, he could felt her absence. It was as though she left the backpacker’s inn without a trace like a stealthy ninja. He was the intuitive type who could accurately predict events seconds before they happen. That morning was a clear sign that his hunch maintains at an accuracy level of 100%.

Though he couldn’t remember what he wrote last night, but he sure hope that she reads it. In fact he couldn’t even recall if he did slip the note in her bag. Well, it doesn’t matter anymore as she is already long gone by the time he woke up.

---

Three month later, the female traveler noticed a small yellow post it note crumbled deep inside the side compartment as she was clearing her bag pack. It was a piece of unattractive note, the type of paper portraying the impression that its just another piece of trash. Usually she would discard the note without hesitation, however for some reason unknown, she felt a weird sensation emitting from the note as if it was begging to be read.

Reluctantly, she opened the crumpled note. She was the impatient type who has a short attention span. Initially she had a hard time figuring out what was written behind that terrible scribbling. Was it in English, she couldn’t tell. But when she turned the note 138 degrees clockwise, her heart sank when she read: “I hated it here for the past 4 years because I don’t fit in with ANYONE. After hearing you share your deepest secret tonight….well… I don’t feel so alone anymore. Thank you!”

She tried to analyze the note, the handwriting, how old it could have been and how did it end up in her bag. She tried to figure who would do this kind of senseless act. Perhaps its just another trash. Not knowing who wrote it, she threw the note away.

At the precise moment the note landed on the very surface of the freshly emptied trash-can, He sneezed three times in a row. Exactly three times.

----Written by 3POINT8----
[Inspired by PostSecret and ShuChyi]

The Last Step

----The Last Step----

[A Fiction]

Page1: Edicius Edicius Edicius Edicius...

Her name was Edicius. At age 19, Edicius was my first girlfriend. There is so much to tell about her, so much so that I do not even know where to begin.
Edicius was the shy girl who sat in front of me in psychology class and Edicius has the most beautiful name. When I first lay my eyes on her, she was as normal as any ordinary girls, just a bit shy. I started talking to Edicius after the first major university exam. It was then I got to know her and we actually went out for a couple of months.

She was quite a problematic child back then. Anyone with a sane mind could see that Edicius was the type that doesn't have any real friends. She was a liar and she was obsess with attention. She once told me that she was raped before just before reaching puberty. The truth is - she never was. I guess she wants my sympathy. Then there was this one big fight that changed everything. Oddly, we became real close friends after we broke up. In fact, I was her only friend back then.

A few months down the road, she left the university. She was hated by virtually everyone. Do you remember the one girl back in high school everyone use to refer as bitch, slut, whore? That sort of alias reveal pretty much of her reputation. Till date, I never understood why she would act the way she did. Everyone hated her for it. She couldn't take it so she left.

There were times when I'd be embarrassed to say that I'm was still friend with her. After the big fight, I wasn't embarrassed anymore. Even after she apologized, I didn't care. It was just too late. She got worse too. She left her second university for some hospital. She was reluctant to tell me about it but I could have guess that she had some real issues.

She used to call me from there. Sometimes she would ask me to visit. But I never would. Eventually I stop returning her call and she stop calling.

When you stop caring for someone, its easier to forget about them. I didn't see her again until that April. I was working and she walked in. I ran to the back so she wouldn't see me. I watched her. I was scared. It must have been months since I last saw her. she looked Different. She is taller, Her hair was shorter and I felt that she was bolder. Eventually she walked out and I followed her from behind. She got in the car and left. That was the last time I ever saw her.

I wondered for some time, what it was like when she took that last step of life, maybe even for just a split second. Could she be thinking that she didn't want to leave? It would have been too late anyway. After that first step, it was too late to step back.

Three more hours and I'm still contemplating whether or not to attend her funeral.

38Pages - That is the time it took me to reminisce the past while jotting her name repeatedly on pieces of crumpled paper. Its funny how the first 19pages is a mirror image of the last 19pages. Subconsciously, I wrote her name backwards.

Page 38: Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide...

----Penned by 3POINT8----

What do you think of my writing style?

Within me, AIDS lie dormant.

----Within me, AIDS lie dormant----

[A fiction]

The dice was cast landing my piece to ‘CHANCE’. I stretched out my hand to the stack of CHANCE cards gently taking the top card wishing for something to secure my position as first place. Happy I was the moment I realized that the ultimate card ‘Get out of Jail Free’, was withing my grasp. 17cards available in the Chance stack and I got the ultimate one. Now this is what I call luck!

I'm not a believer of fate but I do believe in luck. At the peak of my happiness, Aidsten enviously commented how I was always the lucky one living in a perfect world. Hiven agreed adding saying that I seem to have everything: Beauty, Brains, Health, Friends and Fame. That’s the perk of being a high achiever in college: recognition. Everyone around me seems to envy my life and there are some who even said that they'll gladly trade their life for mine anytime. Some would even go to extremes saying that they'll sell their soul to the devil to live my life for a day. That is how famous I am in college.

I replied confidently with a smirk: ‘Well....God loves me’. Since everyone is enjoying the game, I might as well go with the flow replying them with a happy tone. While my lips are poised with a smile, a feeling of sadness within me began to overwhelmed me. A moment ago I was feeling confident, and now I am beginning to experience a hint of dark cloud shadowing my heart. Sometimes, I really hope that devils exist in this world. I'll trade my life with anyone, anytime!

All my life, I've been hiding a dark secret from everyone. While everyone perceives me as the perfect angel bestowed from heaven, nobody knew that I was born with HIV+. Life isn’t fair; I did nothing to deserve this and yet I am the one to be haunted by it. It is only a matter of time before AIDS decides to pop up and cause havoc in my perfect life. I'm a walking timebomb, and there is nothing much I can do about it.

While my friends envy me, I envied them even more. They can afford to sleep late, partake bad diet, get sick and they’ll recover in no time. For me, I have to constantly monitor my health for I cannot fall sick, NOT EVEN ONCE as I know a common flu can easily end my life. My life sucks! Unlike people who pass away from chronic diseases like cancer, If I die I'll probably die from some puny little common flu. I'm a pathetic weakling.

That was what I used to believed in a few years ago when I was still an immature teenager. I guess death is not such a bad thing considering I've done all I could with my life. I did well in school, I'm the president of the college entrepreneur club, I made a dozen of good friends, I own 3POINT8. Even if I have to go tomorrow, I know I'll leave the world with no regrets for I've achieved all I could in my life.

Just as I was about to delve deep into my sorrow, Siv tapped my shoulder bringing me back to reality. From the way he offered me the dice, I could tell that it is my turn again. This time I rolled an eight landing my piece to ‘JAIL’. I reluctantly hand over the 'Get out of Jail' Card while fantasizing how life could be a little more like monopoly. Just like in the game, I wish that there is a ‘Get out of HIV Free’ card somewhere in the world so that I too have a second chance in life.

----Written By 3POINT8----

Author's Note:
Names used in this article are inspired by HIV related disease,
Aidsten = AIDS (Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome)
Hiven = HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus)
Siv = SIV (Simian Immunodeficiency Virus)

---

This article was originally intended as an entry for a contest organised by AisecUPM in April 2008. The contest entry article was reduced to 200words, which reduced the quality of the article. Anyway I didn't win, but the winning script can be found here.

---

[Top Comment by QuaChee]
oh my this is touching & inspiring at the same time.
do take care & continue to live life the fullest. for you to come so far, there is still so much to enjoy for whatever time is left. we are all living in a time bomb, actually.
again, inspiring :)

Nonsensical Crappy Stuff

Intro: Most hardcore bloggers update their blog(s) at least once a week. The more hardcore ones updates their blog everyday! So, what happens when these blog addicts want to post something but can't find anything to write?
This is what most bloggers do when they are experiencing a blogger's block. They do what I do best: write nonsense, or post some stupid picture. In this post, I'll do both.

---

At one stage or another, every blogger will eventually be faced with the issue of updating blogs. There are so many more things to be done in the world which engender updating blogs seemed like a trivial obligation. As a result, people like me would resolve to writing Nonsensical Crap. To deeply delve into the subject of crappy stuff is an adventure. Complex though is it; I shall now attempt to provide an exhaustive essay on the importance of writing Nonsense for the sake of updating 3POINT8. Here begins my in-depth analysis on the glorious subject of crappy stuff.

Nonsensical crap can be linked to many areas. One of them is the obvious obligation issue whereby a blogger is obliged to blog something so that they are fairly treated as contributors to the blogosphere. Nonsense is both a need and a want. Blog readers may be tempted to disregard this fact, but I haven't. To put it simply, people like crappy stuff and the hidden message it brings.

Cited by many as the simple most important influence on post modern micro eco compartmentalism, several of today's most brilliant minds seemed incapable of recognizing its increasing relevance between crappy stuff and improvement. By blogging about anything, a blogger can sometimes discover a hidden talent or a new style which may benefit the blogger themselves along with their readers. Though it seem like a ridiculous attempt to improve oneself by writing craps, it is not impossible. NIKE's selling quote "Impossible is not a fact, it is just a thought" is a representation of this point.

Society is a simple word with a complex definition. Most of the brilliant minds in this world would certainly agree with this statement: Society begins and ends with nonsense. Nonsensical crappy subject may sound like gibberish to a common folk or it could be seem as the most brilliant idea to a person whose forte is in creativity. Considering some of the world greatest inventions were thought by the most creative minds of their time, it becomes true that Nonsense has always been and will continue to be the major building block for the world in which we live in.

It is an unfortunate consequence of our civilization history that Nonsense is rarely given rational consideration by people, trapped by their perception of crappy articles equal to unworthy reading material. Despite this fact, some of the greatest minds in this era are willing to go to length to argue that Nonsense is in fact elitist. However it is not so much nonsense that is elitist but rather the defining characteristic of Nonsense. It can also be said that the subject is contextualized into a that includes personal interpretation as a paradox.

While it has been acknowledge that Nonsense has an important part to play in the development of mankind, it is yet to receive proper recognition. This is understandable since everyone has their own perception towards Nonsense. Some find humor in it, some find sarcasm, and some find revolutional ideas, while others couldn't make any sense out of Nonsense. It is enlightening to consider the words from one of the most recognizable fictional character, Dr.Seuss: "I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope and that enables you to laugh at life's realities."

There has been a great deal of discussion in the world of nonsense, centered on the value of crappy stuff. It could be said that the premise of Nonsense holds that consensus is created by the collective unconscious. What can we conclude? Well, Nonsense has a special place in the minds of everyone. It questions, bring forth improvement and it brings the best out of people. Consequently, Nonsense collaborate success, applauds greatness and is a joy to behold.

---

[Top Comment by popjammerz]
cool. ur nonsense post not nonsense also, it made SENSE!!!!
I think for multiple posts in a day are unless the blogger has a lot to tell, a lot to share, or just mainly they wanna post stuffs~
but it's really unhealthy to post just for the sake of posting. i mean, why not just don't post at all? why must some bloggers post just because they want to have posts in their blogs and they want people to read them? Why must posting a post be so routine? Is it bad to have no posts at all a day?
or back to one question - why do people blog?
do they blog for fun
do they blog for leisure
do they blog for sharing
do tehy blog to connect
or do they blog for popularity?
;)

Assassin's Ego

Assassin's Ego is a continuation of Inconspicuous Stranger.

---

----Assassin's Ego----

The body he lived in felt heavy. He was exhausted to the point that he couldn't open his eyes. It got so bad that he couldn't even control his jaw which happens to be among the easiest body parts to control. The only body function he could consciously control was his breathing. He tried to take in slow breaths to help himself fall asleep. After all, his intention is to get a good night sleep. Still, there was this one thing that bothered his sleep, his conscience.

He couldn't take his mind off the recent assignment. About the silly mistakes he has made, what he could have done better, and etc. To prepare for his next assignment, he had to convince himself that fear will no longer be a factor. Emotions will no longer hinder him. This will the last time he'd allow his guilty conscious to take over him. Within a night, everything felt so different.

Nothing will ever be the same. All of a sudden, everyone had become so ordinary, so plain, so mindless, a mere flesh who does only what is expected, blindly following orders from someone...anyone. Within a night, he lost any respect he had for ALL his fellow friends. Even those whom he once regard as a great man is now another flesh to him. His perception on people who lives in the same planet changed dramatically. He never would have imagined how dumb everyone was. Every social gathering is never the same as before.

Occasionally, he hangs out with his beer buddy just so that he could portrait an ordinary life to the public. Whenever tales of ego begins to flow, he finds it hard to join in the conversation. Everything that they boast about, every masculine action, every bar-fight they described is nothing but nonsense to him. To his beer buddy, it might be the greatest show of power. But to him, it’s something he had to do all the time in his profession.

As his friend boast about the 10 hard punches he delivered to the big buffy bouncer the other day, all that on his mind was on how his buddy could have 'settle' him with a punch to a precise body anatomy. Contained within him is a vast pool of knowledge he can't share to just anyone. And because of that, he finds it hard to contain his ego, the need to boast how capable he is. There were times when he was so tempted to tell someone what ‘real life’ meant for him, but sadly he had to contain all that. Gradually, he finds every boasting that came out from all his beer buddies irritating. To him, those 'show of power' are just as minor as swatting small little cockroaches.

All this while, he thought that ego is among one of those genetic accessory nature installed within him. There was never once he thought badly about it, at least not until he got over his first assignment. At this stage of his life, he realized how ego had become his worst enemy. To be able to continue in his current profession, he had to either hide his own ego or wipe it off. He should be safe so as long as he doesn’t do anything flashy. Failing to do so may cause his soul to be lost the fearful death-reaper. On the other hand, it’s not as easy as it sounds.

There are times when he has this great desire to impress someone be it his best buddy or a hot chick. Every time he was about to brag his profession, there is this conscience whispering, "Only insecure trash see themselves as how others perceive them". One of his hardest moments involves any form of interaction between rich glamorous classy beautiful women. He has tons of cash, but he knew very well that he couldn't flash a big bundle in one go, for he understood the consequences.

As time pass by, he could only categorize people as "useful tools" or "useless trash". He wouldn't make a move if he doesn't have a strong reason to interact with a stranger. Anyone who knows his existence is a potential threat. Social life is something which he doesn't want to be involved in. Without a social life, there will no longer be life within him, no fun, no proud moments. What left of him will be nothing more than a lonely shell occupied by an empty soul. Sometimes he pondered if he even has a soul to begin with. A person who deals with death will eventually become death itself.

This is the harsh life of an assassin.

----Written By 3POINT8----

What do think of the story?

Note: I was experimenting with writing styles. In this article, the last sentence of every paragraph is suppose to be the first line of the next paragraph. What do you think of this style? Does it add suspense to the story?

Inconspicuous Stranger

Unrelated Stuff: When I saw my subscribers (by feedburner) jumped from 21 to 40, I was ecstatic! As a reward to all my loyal readers, allow me to present a SUPER long post for you guys! Get a cup of green tea, sit down and ENJOY.
This is a dark post meant to be read with a sloowwww pace.

---

----Inconspicuous Stranger----

FEAR drove him the moment he walked out of the building. He made no delay in starting up his car just as soon as he flung his equipments into back trunk of his seemingly ordinary car. He wanted to get the hell out of the city, to anywhere as far as possible. He had this strong feeling that he should be somewhere else so as long as his presence no longer linger around in the city center. What hindered him then was his shaky hands. He had been driving the same car for two years and yet he felt as if the key he was holding was a key that he had never touched before. It was as though the key had grew slightly in size and a more slippery feel to it than before.

Just as soon as he managed to slot in the key, he tried to calm his mind as he carefully turned it clockwise, clocking up the car engine. He couldn’t help thinking about the mistakes he had done in the building earlier. Just as soon as his mind went to that thought, he made another silly mistake. He forgot to switch on the signal lights as he got out from the roadside. Well, it’s not like that was mistake worth mentioning nor it was a mistake he noticed himself.

Like every other experienced driver, he couldn't recall the roads he used nor the number of traffic lights he passed by. Those details weren’t worth to be registered in his memory, especially after since what happened earlier. By the time he reached Manly Park 80km from where he started off his journey, he could only recall driving through the Brooklyn Bridge at 90km/h with the scenery of a bloody sun setting as it touched the sea far beyond his vision.

It was 7.04pm by the time he got out of the car. That’s about an hour left before total darkness lurks in. Seeing how there was still a slight hint of sunlight at dusk, he made his way to the bench furthest from the playground, one that is being shadowed by trees barely visible to the public. He was relieved to discover that the seat was unoccupied. What more, he could feel the moisture in the air and a slight temperature drop in the atmosphere. Probably that explains why there weren’t many people at the park at that time. Or perhaps it’s the norm of that particular park since it was his first time being there.

For the first five minutes, he wasn’t sure what kind of feeling was dominating over his mind. Was it fear, was it terror, or was it pure paranoia? He was well aware of the number of people who took a glance at him, their body figure and the colour of the shirt they wore. It was the first time he was so attuned to his senses that he couldn’t believe that he had such great attention to such minor details. If he could, he wanted to stare eye to eye to those who took a harmless glance at him. Then again, he figured that wasn’t in the best of his interest since he had to reduce his presence to as little as possible, preferably to the state of an invisible man.

Millions of detailed Information flowed into his mind. The rush was so intense to the point he decided shut his five senses to the world. It was also then when he start to backtrack his memory from the Brooklyn Bridge drive all the to the city center. That was the easy part. The hard part was recalling of what happened in the building. For the longest hour of his life, he couldn't take his mind off the assignment, the people involved, and the possible consequences that awaits him.

No matter how positive he tried to view it, he couldn’t come up with any future events that could benefit him in any way. Other than money, nothing good can come out of it. The more he thought about it, the more his fear grew. That one hour was the worst emotional turmoil he had been in his entire life. What happened in the building earlier was worse than the act of euthanasia he did to his father a month ago.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with an explanation to why people around him had to go away. That was then he took his leave and drove to another park only to spend 40 minutes thinking about the same thing over and over again. For the longest night of his life, that cycle repeats for a few more times till dawn. He kept track of the parks he visited but he couldn’t be bothered to count whether it was 10 or 15 parks he had been.

The moment the sun rose, he figured there was no point reminiscing the past. So he made his way back to his crummy little apartment hoping all this will pass just as any other ordinary event in his life. As he silently steps into the room, the first that was on his mind was the void emptiness of nothing. Or rather I should say nothing was on his mind. All he wanted to do is to skip his job for a day and get a good day sleep.

As mysterious as the man himself, details of the assignment should never bring to light for any slight hint of sin is going to be trouble for everyone, especially to the person who owns a small apartment and an ordinary car.

----Written By 3POINT8----

Read part2 here @ Assassin's Ego.

What do you think of the story? Good?