exposed

A naked specimen. Observed, analyzed, understood?

Can anyone really classify or theorize another?

Is knowing acceptance? Is knowing judgement? How do you understand what you know?

Why even go there, deep inside, what do you hope to find?

A pile of bricks.

Stacked

Immovable?

You saw the wall, and decided not to climb, trespass or buzz in. Yet you linger.

Most people never look past the wall. What is it that you’re staring at, what interests you? Are you also looking at other properties, do you consider this one of great value?

Why does it matter to me? I’m not your real estate agent, I shouldn’t concern myself with these trivial details. Still, I do.

I’ve built a giant fortress over the years; grand with gates locked… no one is invited inside. Especially not you!

A million brown tear stained bricks glimmer in my eyes as both a promise and a barrier to conquests. The Columbus type, you can see the prize, but you know there are numerous guards standing in your way. You know you’re capable of defeating them, but even after you do, I’ll still be inside, the wall still triumphant, protecting me, and you’re not sure if you will stand the course, all you have is a shield.  

But clearly you’ve peaked through the window, stolen a glance, more than what’s considered polite, you’ve intruded in many ways. I didn’t stop you. However I should be the one who opens and closes the shutters, I control the view. Don’t I? Maybe I can’t control what you see after all. I thought I could. I wish I could.

I’m like the cat who was killed by curiosity, I need to know what it is that you are trying to find, until I understand your motives, I will continue to leave some windows open. Possibly even fall out of one….

Cats have nine lives. I’ve lost count of mine… I don’t think I ever even had one.

Perhaps knowing is simply just that…nothing more, nothing less a process in obtaining a life. It is in itself like Pandora’s box, it can release all the world’s evils, but it will always leave you with hope.

We all know hope is the last thing to die, and if you have not lived then you can’t die.

Or perhaps you can  die, expire, fail… along with your hope.

HOPEfully the answer will be revealed when the wall crumbles.

If ever…

China, Berlin, ….me?

up up and away

Just like a balloon –

Round

Symmetrical

Beautiful …….one minute

popped.

deflated the next.

They say Rome wasn’t built in a day, but …what a difference a day makes.

At least to me

even an hour, 5 minutes…. just a few words can change the world,  my world

Carefully built castles can be destroyed in an instant…when they’re made of sand.

Why do I always build my castles in sand?

An architect of sorts, a creative contractor always commissioned for the wrong projects …. When will I get it right?

I put in a bid for this one,  a l m o s t  too much, luckily I carry my helmet with me- it saved me from losing my assets ….. this time.

Maybe I’ll wear my helmet everyday-to protect me you know … perhaps gloves too.

It’s okay if I can’t see or feel anything. I don’t want to.

And so today I tender my resignation, again.

A white flag, a towel, what should I give you?

Funny thing is, it’s not really a competition.

Yet I still lost.

continuum of dichotomy?

dreams are elation

mundane is desolation

Where is equilibrium?

Is it in your dreams, because your hopes become aligned with your soul and you flow naturally through life as if you were a nymph?

Or is it in the mundane, the sensible, logical, practical, methodical programme that you follow in fear of loneliness.

Why do I see them as dichotomous? Can’t they exist in a continuum?

I’m always stuck in that shade of grey.

The one no one can see but me.

With their 2-D glasses, all that’s apparent is black and white.

Nuances, gradations, tones, degrees, shades….

I guess I’m going to need mine.

“All of the lights” can be a bit much on the retina.

3-D of course

It’s the third side of the coin that’s always mattered to me anyway

the more i understand, the less i 'know'

I think therefore I am.

I think too much, then what, am I too much?

What if my thoughts are too profound, my words too advanced, and my ideas so radical that the world must change to keep up with my pace?

The world will change, if I can be the change.

Can I be it? Can it be me?

hmmmmmm

I can do the cancan. This I know for sure, it can be measured after all.

It’s what’s expected of me, heck, often I enjoy it.

But when I don’t feel like dancing, what should I do?

What if the things I do conflict with expectations, norms, institutions, discourse, established paradigms… the r  i g h t way.

Is there a wrong way? Says who? In what context? With what conceptual framework? Which methodology did they use? Qualitative, quantitative, mixed methods? Is it ethical?

Oh, I almost forgot about the ethics committee.

Let he(she) who is without ethics cast the first stone….never mind, in fact… keep them, I don’t want any, they just weigh me down.

I have enough thoughts to keep me grounded, I don’t need your stones too.