we all seem to be waiting for something.
It’s nice to have someone to respond to when writing, it helps in idea generation and what you’ll write about next, because the next best alternative you write when you have nothing else to write about is self-deprecating things.
Are writing about things like that bad, even when you don’t change it? Even if it becomes a learned kind of helplessness because it’s comfortable and… and you don’t want to get out of a rut.
I’m kidding. Everyone wants to out of their rut, but no one wants to try if it means failing.
If you’re stuck at the bottom of a 10 metre well with nothing but your bare hands, would you try to climb to the top?
What if you climb and then you fall, breaking a leg? It reduces your chances of surviving if someone came across your well and found you, since you can’t climb your own way out anymore.
People bide their time, but if we keep thinking of, “Another, better time,” then would we ever move?
I mean, now is a very good time to start doing homework because yesterday was spent doing other, non-academic pursuits – though I had much fun dealing with Kaijus and atomic bombs.
I am stuck in a rut, waiting for the panic to hit me – the panic that can somehow drive me past this initial inertia – inertia is proportional to the mass of the object, a measure of an object’s tendency to change its state of motion, speed and/or direction.
In this case where my hesitance is the friction between the block and the floor, my desire to do well the applied force, the work the block with a ridiculously large surface area in contact with the ground.
Friction is proportional to the surface area in contact.
Panic is at times the liquid soap applied to the floor to reduce friction, at other times the thing on my hand that causes me to lose grip on the block.
Let me get around to writing what I was supposed to last time.
Indeed, because there is yet the panic I will feel after a friend’s celebration party.
About my younger sister – she’s I daresay, one of the most technologically savvy people in my life. Did you know that on an Apple computer, you can use the Preview application to change parts of a background transparent? I didn’t, but she did. While she’s being scolded for not studying and not doing well on tests and everything, at least, I have to say, she has found a niche that she likes.
She likes drawing and arts and digital designs, though all this probably came from her love of anime.
When she was younger, she used to tell our grandparents she had no intention of working, and that she would rely on me and my older sister – of course, Ah Ma and Ah Kong would scold her for that and tell her to study hard.
My point of all this is that I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her not wanting to study.
Who’s fault is it that she couldn’t care less how many chickens there were on a farm, or what makes a plant different from a fungus? I daresay it’s not a fault at all.
Look at us right now. There are things you don’t like, right? Is that a fault?
I don’t think so. Or maybe that’s just my assurance to myself that things will be okay.
In that sense maybe I’m not motivated enough to do well because I don’t think that falling is too bad an option.
In a dog-eat-dog world like ours, I don’t want to be running from the people snapping at my heels, nor do I want to be the person threatening the one in front of me. In a society like ours which grades people relative to one another, then, I think we have lost our humanity.
Of course, I want to be good at what I do, everyone wants it.
I think people want it more than me, and it’s seen by them being more willing and able to invest in the effort, time and energy into being better.
If I could I would step out of the race course and walk slowly on my own.
But when I do that, then I expand the race course.
It doesn’t matter. My sister has to pass her math before I worry about passing my own.
If I can’t do both at the same time then I’d rather deal with hers because at least that’s something I can do.
I write the way I think, the way I would speak.
You can’t write this way in an essay, of course, but I think it’s a little silly.
When you read an essay, don’t you read it out loud in your head?
Storybooks use the third person to achieve the effect of an onlooker looking in. But in an essay where you are writing your own subjective thoughts and interpretations, everything no matter how substantiated is in fact tainted by your personal voice.
I’d rather we not have to hide that because academic honesty is important.
Last thing, about academics and academic papers.
I had a small discussion with my history teacher this week about verbatim and jargon – excessively complicated language and word choices that don’t add nuance to essais.
I am guilty of it – my friends used to complain that I had a tendency to use words that could be explained more simply.
While my teacher talked about how the material could be targetted at a specific audience, who would know the prerequisite jargon and verbatim, my question is – what is academic research for?
Not just for peer reviews right?
Academic research is to teach and enrich human understanding, yet the language used itself is a barrier that prevents the lay people from understanding. For the sciences, if the terminology of chemicals and all is what people cannot understand, I think it is excusable because you wouldn’t want to keep redefining what isomers of propranolol are.
ie. you need to know the science behind all these chemicals to understand the science that involves the chemicals – that is understandable.
I guess I’m talking about other academic research. The kind that puts you to sleep no matter how hard you try because its boring, dense and dry and without even the intent of education.
If your contribution doesn’t help to make people more intelligent, then is it a contribution or something that hampers people from learning?
Of course, then there’s the idea that I just don’t have the pre-requisite level of understanding to fathom the topic discussed.
That’s probably it.
Nevermind me then. I’ll find someone who understands and will teach me it.
Fingers drew circles in the sand
like they would last beyond the next wave,
Hands gathered sand in castles
like they would last beyond the next child running by.
Arms cast out like they could catch
the child who fell right in front of me,
Legs outstretched like they would trip,
retracted as quickly as the child leapt right over.
Ears pricking like they listened when in fact
they were closed in sleep,
Lips moving like they spoke when in fact
they only lifted,
betrayed the light to their eyes.
Intentions written on sleeves like
it was okay to say things like that.
Of course it wasn’t to do any of those,
but I wanted to believe and now am