Perhaps true love is one that defies reason and one that you just can’t place your finger on. Pretty much like how one is drawn to a particular prose, a certain city, movie, bookstore...you just don’t know why. 

Shakespeare and company- a history of the rag and bone shop of the heart

 Glad that I bought this book. A very charming read so far especially that of the owner (after Sylvia beach) George Whitman’s travel journal. The entries spoke of a man with socialist idealism, of heart, adventures, relentless pursuit of knowledge, bibliophile, sensitivity...if only there are more of such people in the world. Perhaps this is the very reason why his bookstore outlived him and is much loved by many. I too can’t place my finger on why I am so enamored with the bookstore after visiting it just once and at a time when it was rather crowded, one barely had space to walk.  

Above the bookstore was this famous quote lifted from the book of hebrews 13:2

Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise.  

I guess it’s little things like this that reminds us of our humanity and which lends the bookstore its charm

Fair weather

 I suppose sometimes people are placed into your life for you to learn something.

I’ve learned somehow that some pple are never quite truly reliable friends coz well, relationships are mainly transactional or there, to serve a purpose for some people. 

I dislike fair weather friends. People who demand your time and effort in their time of need and desperation but who are never there, when you need them. People who get on their moral high horses simply because of their own convenience and needs. Do these people truly care about morals, be it yours or theirs, if it serves their purpose? Yes everything is deserving of moral justification because it doesn’t fit into their schedule but when it suits their needs, everything else is fair game.

I’m beginning to doubt my own judgment when I’ve always been so confident of reading people. I guess maybe this time I’ve been wrong. Sometimes people justify every action and nonchalance to their own benefit and to perhaps, hide their true ugly nature from themselves. 

Hope

 The year’s almost coming to an end. Not quite sure what to make of 2020 and what to expect for the years to come. Things seem rather bleak, with the economy bleeding and the rest of the world still struggling with the pandemic. There’s a glimmer of hope that the vaccines bring. A glimmer of hope, the best kind of medicine we need, in the darkest of days. This is very much the same appeal we find in Christianity- hope. 

Been reading much less these days, taken months to finish Obama’s audacity of hope. Ahh, that word again. Talking about hope almost always reminds me of viktor frankel’s man’s search for meaning of life. Haven’t read anything too fantastic these days after grapes of wrath. Reminds me again that I ought to read of mice and men. 

Some fine movies - miracle in cell 47 and boy who harnessed the wind 

Although humanity needs hope to survive, we can’t place any hope on humanity. I suppose I need to moderate or better yet, not have any expectations of anyone. If one wants to give, one should give freely, not feel obligated, and with no expectations. I guess for some people whom I feel deserving or in need, I am more than happy to give without expecting anything in return. But for some people, I’m not sure why I just feel taken advantage of. It just puts me off that sometimes people scheme to reap benefits off you, no matter how small or petty those benefits are. I know it’s ungracious to think or feel this way but I just can’t help feeling this way. I guess I’ve not much tolerance for devious people. 

WIP

Wanted to pick up chess again but I suppose I’ll never be good at it with my limited mental capacity. Watched a beautiful day in the neighborhood which depicted the friendship between Fred Rogers and Lloyd Vogel. Rogers was practically a saint with his ability to see the good in everyone and the willingness to put in extra effort to listen and find that good. And in doing so, helping others help themselves. His wife however, insisted on others not referring to him as a saint coz that just made him seem unattainable. His goodness was likened to how one would practice playing an instrument everyday - it takes conscientious effort to be good.Fred Rogers was more than a man, he was a good man.  It started me thinking about what defines a boy vs a man.  A boy perhaps is impulsive, one who speaks without careful consideration, one who commits to things on impulse, on what they feel at a particular moment, and then regretting it later. A boy perhaps beats around the bush and not tells things as they should be. A boy is perhaps indecisive, in part due to greed or FOMO. A boy is perhaps one who is unable to take care of themselves whether in the nitty gritty details of life or their feelings. A boy is perhaps insensitive to their own needs and the needs of others. He perhaps is one who is unable to deal with problems and chooses other forms of escapism, to pretend these problems do not exist. A boy perhaps is one who is unable to live with or love himself, and constantly requires someone or something else to validate them. I guess perhaps being responsible, self-aware, kind, empathetic, self-assured, unselfish, and grit are the qualities that define a man. I suppose some of these apply to women as well but that’s a post for another day. We are all I guess, work in progress. 

Beatrice

He travelled further into the Deep South. He looked up at the sky and sighed. It would be a very long time till he could see the sun again. What terrible sin had this man committed for this expulsion to the Deep South, the curious reader might ask. The truth is he didn’t belong there. This man had the purest of soul, with not a single evil bone in him.  You see, dear reader, the sole purpose of his travel (not an expulsion), has a name. A name uttered, sends every molecule in his body into a frenzy. That name, it is Beatrice. 

Standing on the edge of a parapet,

Delusions, hallucinations,

Reality like a foggy dream.

Lost my way,

Searching for a light that doesn’t exist.

Craving for the warmth of the sun,

But the dark clouds come,

And the frost settles into the night.

I see you at a distance,

At the end of the world you stand,

Your cup is full,

But mine is empty. 

The starlit river,

It glitters like a carpet of diamonds,

But it is a river I can never cross,

In my darkness, 

I will never reach you.