Remember your roots.

Stay trippy.

I was reminded once again. And I really believe that, as humans, we need to be reminded once in a while. Nowadays, things happen so fast around us. One day you're sitting in a bus after a long day in school, dreading the homework you got. Another day, you are behind a desk, filling up papers, supporting an organisation, ploughing through that 8-5 job.

Haha. It is funny that I had to describe both phases of lives in great agony.

2 days back, I met up with a mentor of mine. It then just reminded me of the days I used to be perched up with so many things to do. Which of course led me to the revelation of being appreciative of wherever I would be, or end up in. It was not what I specifically remembered that set me out to write this but it was the existence of this very memory. Guys, I lived through this moment. I survived through this. I was there and back, in one piece. I made it. And it is a joy to be here.

I don't know man. After my stint in management, I threw away myself to refresh my hopes. And then, instead of a revitalised self to turn my cogs of time, I was renewed. Like sort of a baptism. Only slower and enduring. I saw things vividly. I felt things longer. I soaked in deeper. And then, I just became happy with what I had.

I could thank the repeated failures in my 2 year stint. Or maybe my constant distractions I allowed myself then. Do I have to thank that feeling of jadedness for propelling this shift? Whatever it is, it was a great reminder for me that evening.

Remember your roots.

Disheartened.

I feel disheartened tonight. But I have a voice in my head, that tells me to pick myself up.

In my weakest form, I long just to be stronger. That's all.

The only way is, up.

Fences by Phoenix.

I used to have a lot of time to myself. Though the days' hours don't differ, it just feels that I don't have much time as compared previously. Maybe perhaps, in the past, I gave myself more time.

The commute took an hour of myself every morning. It was an hour I dedicate myself to music and self questioning. Today, that commute simply takes half. So does this mean I am performing t half of myself?

Numbers aside, my senior asked about my financial status. He noticed how I seem to share plenty of stories of me spending my time after work in the company of Starbucks, fast food, zalora.com (Haha) and gyming. I can't really argue that this is the lavish life one normally perceives.

I simply told him, "Yes, I am rich. And so are you. For me, a thousand dollars in my savings or even 10 bucks in my wallet makes me happy." Yeah, I might seem to be spending more than ever but I always believe that I should be doing what I love most. I love being simple. I love all these small simple things.

But I should agree ultimately that money doesn't grow on trees. But my spending seems to be burning trees.

Part of me went missing a few days back. I had hardly enough energy to get myself out of bed and carry the darn weights. So I didn't. It seems that I might be missing something. Like I lost something. So what did I lose?

Well, I lost my words.

I wanted to express my desire, my thoughts, my heart, my freedom, my hatred and my love, but I didn't have the words. Weird isn't it?

Normally I would tell myself to get myself busy. But busy with what? All these while, for 3 years and counting, that feeling returned.

Jaded.

Ghost.

Waiting for the command-in, we were crouched behind a wooden tabletop. It was not an ideal place to be caught in a firefight so the command-in has to be radioed now or never. After anticipating patiently with rivers of sweat down our faces, the words filled our ear drums. Overjoyed, truly.

"TEAM, GO GHOST."

I still remember that night. This is not training. This in not an exercise. This is real. The senses can't fail me now. The mind can't flinch right here now. The heart can't lose itself. Simply surreal.

Oh yeah. Uhm, pretty rad for me now. I've gotten myself back on track. Or maybe the Red Bulls were assisting me. I know it has been a uphill battle to keep this space updated with as much of material. Believe me, adapting has never been this versatile. I am going full steam ahead. I am heading strong.

Then again, I've got a gaziliion tasks to do. Read up 7 books is my number 1 guilt brought over from last months. Gotta really work it out. Dang. And then the case of the fatty build-up of my midsection. That is truly a cause for concern. And then the reports. I don't even know if I should do this now. Is it even worth it now?

Have faith. That's all I request from myself. And then, I'll just do it.

Sinking my senses into Nine Inch Nails' Ghost I-IV. It is making my body jiggle a bit. It's also making my mind in tip top shape. It's a great album to waste these time in. Put this as a spa session for my mind. Classic treatment for an ever hardworking fella.

In the mean time, a lavatory shall be my next pit stop!

My Empire of Dirt

Half past 4 in the morning. We are all tired. Who would have known that this full moon early morning would suck so much from us when we are just to idle and wait for our turn.

As I returned from this grand test, I am faced with a reality. In this room, waiting for the wrap up, is a resemblance of a life I had been living.

So many slouches, drooling from their mouths. So many distracted from a real threat outside. I am the only one awake and ready to strike. Everyone else seems to be drawn into a deep slumber. Here, I sit waiting for my call. Sometimes I ask, if ever I am real for the call never ever comes.

Am I the only one perched up sitting, waiting and wishing? Am I the only one ready to strike? Then again, does it matter?

I do it for the innocent lives.
I do it for the simple future of others.
I do it for the honour of them.

It don't matter, because I got something to die for. But I want that someone to die for. Ever since then, it throws me back to a huge debacle of my need to fight and my desire to protect.

Does the love really kickstart again? Because mine didn't.

Fallen Comrades

A fellow trainee from the recent days jumped to his death yesterday. It pains me to realise that his decision was to end such a life that has so much potential.

Till this day, I cannot justify murdering oneself to escape pain, fear and failure.

One part of me loathe this will to die. But another understands this decision. At least, die for a better cause. That is all I request.

You sink the knife deeper when you mention later but later never comes.

Once in a while, I'll question you.

One way is to see how sound your moral structure is. Then I'll move on to your values, primarily of politics, gender, cultural issues and criminal minds etc. I will even sneak in a question about religion now and then but only if I ran out of things to ask. Perhaps my most favourite question, and most annoying, is about how you gather yourself and respond when I try to dispute your claims.

It's my thing, I love to see you respond. It doesn't exactly excite the conversation but more than often, makes it an argument rather than a discussion. I thrive in information, but I have learnt to skip the details and look for the right ones. Some facts are negligible but means grand to me. I look out for such 'abnormalities'. And with these, I construct my stand.

That's what I do every time with a circle of highly motivated people. Whenever I enter this meeting, I feel at ease to know that such people exist. They are simply crazy about what they do. They will go their max for a passion they would die for. These people will eventually save us. And the time I spend with them, they ushered a method to ensure that we keep bouncing, keep on our toes. So they will catch you sleeping, kick you in the stomach, spilt at you, set you on fire, throw knives and the list goes on.

We challenge each other everyday, pushing limits of our knowledge, stretching our minds and testing each other. The deal is to keep everyone awake. It sort of train us. You can't be awake at every hour. So this drives your stamina to a new limit. Then again, we all have limits.

So when I do not get responses from a conversation, I sulk. A conversation is only rich when both parties allow it to be rich. It just suggests that someone doesn't want to play ball. And it makes me sad. Because in this day and age, conversations keep me alive. Remember, people like me thrive in information. But once passed through tubes of internet, the TV or the phone lines, I find it a little repulsive. So it gets worst when you do not wish to continue such a conversation.

You sink the knife deeper when you mention later but later never comes.