The Mind Sees What it Wants to See

Self-image. This is what I will talk about today.

I will like to start off with a seemingly meagre example from my own life which might seem, as above stated, really, really meagre and petty and childish and whatnot. But, it's what got me thinking.
Heh, like always.

It was in 8th grade, (very, very long ago, indeed. It's a wonder I still remember it.) I was hanging out with my friends and one of them told me that my top lip was quite small and strange and would tease me and bully me about it. All they had to do (at parties or any event where everyone comes up really dressed up and pretty) was to point out my supposedly deformed lip and I would spend the whole time worrying about how I looked. That escalated to bullying me about my weight and all but that's another topic.

I know, I know, how this might sound, but just wait, it gets better. I promise!

In a way, you could also label it as one of the reasons of my suffering from depression. You know, with the terrible self-image and insecurity and all. But we are not here to talk about that right now.

Back to the topic, what I really want to say is that this society is shite.
Actually, that's still not what I want to say. Gosh, I take too long.

Now, my new friends can't stop gushing and admiring my lips. They think my lips are quite pretty and unique.
Just when my other friends used to tease me about them and bully me. I know, great friends. And I'm just mentioning one of the many things! Asses.

Everybody sees this world differently. Everyone has a different conception of beauty.
When you worry about getting all strands of your hair perfectly straight or that your clothes match perfectly, some other person would be dreaming about how beautiful your eyes or lips are. No one even notices. People spend too much time worrying about unnecessary things. No one cares. No one bothers.

You're perfect the way you are.
Peace out, homies!

Observe

Take a look around and observe your surroundings. Where are you right now? Are you sitting inside of a dark room? Is there anyone else with you? Are you all alone? Most sources indicate that a majority people read tales of horror by themselves. Something about this genre and medium compel you to experience it in a quiet room, all alone. But why is this? Why subject yourself to fright in solitude? What compels you to purposely scare yourself, to fill your mind with visions of the grotesque and supernatural?

Do you enjoy feeling a sense of, what some deem as, “paranoia”? What thrill can come from becoming suspicious of that shadow moving in the corner of your eye? That shadow that you think “isn’t anything”. Listen closely; is there a noise you hear that was or wasn’t there all along? Take a look around. Is there anything you didn’t notice originally? Is there something different? Is something out of place? That feeling on the back of your neck: is it your imagination or is it just too faint to pin-point?

When you read you expand the limitations of your mind. Clear of auditory and visual distractions, it can push your consciousness to perceive at levels you do not normally reach. The longer you read, the more you become aware. Maybe of things you thought weren’t there. There is a reason why your brain would block out these sensations. No one can be sure why. Maybe your mind is warning you. Maybe there are things you weren’t meant to see. Things you didn’t realize were there. Things that cannot be unseen. Things you cannot forget. Things that shouldn’t be.

Take a look around.

Faultry Wiring (Short Story)

It wasn't long ago I noticed a strange noise coming from the air conditioning unit, in the wall of the living room. At first it was almost imperceptible from the other noises such a device would typically make. It started out as a slight clanking sound, only when it was first turned on. I had just accredited it to the age of the apartments and the appliances within. Realistically they weren’t all that old in the grand scheme of things, but without constant upkeep things break down and fall apart relatively fast. Everything in the place made at least some kind of noise. The washing machine shook, the dishwasher sounded like a jet taking off and the fridge would kick on every few minutes and hum so loudly I’d have to turn the television up to hear anything over it. So you can see how it wasn’t such a big deal for the air conditioner to rattle a little. So I put it to the back of my mind as just something that comes with age.

That was until it started making it more and more often. I first noticed it when I turned it on and the rattling didn’t just go away after a second or two.

‘I had better tell the landlord so maintenance can come fix this’, I thought. After about a minute it once again stopped and the thought faded into memory.

A few weeks passed and I began to notice other strange occurrences, scratching in the walls, the electricity flickering in and out, the occasional thump in the night. Again things that could all happen due to the age of the wiring, maybe a mouse had gotten into the walls, or a noisy new neighbour had moved in. All pretty explainable, I thought. Besides, I worked a lot and really didn’t have a lot of free time to do much, so it didn’t bother me. But when things started to go missing in my tiny, one bedroom, apartment, I started to worry.

I hadn’t been home in what felt like a couple weeks, between work and friends, I was barely there at all besides to sleep and bathe. I figured I should do a thorough search of the place and see where my things could have gone. The TV remote, a calculator, several pairs of socks, and one shoe, were apparently misplaced. So I went through, room to room (which was really only 4 rooms) searched high and low to find my things and as I did this I noticed more and more small ineffectual things were also missing.

‘Strange’, I thought. ‘Where could these things have gone?’ I hit the power button on the TV and sat down in my once familiar armchair, now a stranger in my own forgotten home, and noticed something. The TV wasn’t on. I flipped the light switch up and down but nothing.

‘Oh for god sakes this is getting a little ridiculous’

I got up and twisted the knob on the stereo, nothing. I went around and tested all the appliances, to see if they were all still functioning. To no avail as not a thing in the place was still functioning, except, strangely enough the increasingly loud air conditioner. It came on with a loud rattle and ran that way for several minutes until it sparked, I heard a loud pop, and then it too died. ‘Maybe the power’s out and it will be fine in the morning.’ I thought half-heartedly. I had a hard time sleeping that night. The neighbours were especially loud and the being without power made me a nervous. I woke up the next morning to find that the power was still out.

I took a shower, got dressed and went over to my neighbours to ask if they were having similar problems. I knocked loudly several times but no answer. I decided enough was enough and went to the maintenance office to complain and hopefully resolve this issue. When I opened the door the smell of stale smoke swept into my nostrils. The place was a mess, papers and ashes all about the desk, peeling paint, smudges on the windows, and a TV with only static bolted to the wall. Sitting behind the desk was a thin, greying man who looked as if he hadn’t bathed in a week. I told him about how everything was suddenly not working but the A/C unit, until it sputtered its last. He gave me a sarcastic look and with a gruff he grabbed his toolbox and followed me back to my apartment.

“You see I would have called but for some reason nothing seems to be working, and I don’t think the electricity is out because the air conditioner was running and suddenly died.”

“Well let’s take a look at it.” he said. He went over to it and unscrewed the faceplate and peered inside. He clicked his flashlight on and went to work unscrewing and checking different things when he stopped suddenly and pulled out a tiny thing attached to a cord that didn’t look like it belonged. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“This yours?”
I couldn’t even identify what he was holding. “I don’t believe so, what is it?”
“It’s one of those little spy cameras, you haven’t been havin girls over, secretly tapin em have ya?” He gave a sly grin.
“No! What the hell was that doing in my home?!” I was getting a scared, and a little irate.
He shrugged “Well let’s see where this wire goes, huh?”
He followed the wired with his hand and stopped to look inside.
“There’s a little hole in here, it goes into the wall.”
He pulled out his hammer and got to work taking chunks out of the dry wall and following the cord. I was freaking out. ‘Who put that there?’ ‘Was this dirty old man watching me?’ ‘Are there more of those?’ All these things went through my head as I watched him work.
“Well that explains a lot” he said under his breath.
“What? What is it?” I exclaimed.
“Looks like somebody rewired your outlets over here.” He backed away to show me what he was seeing.
“But, why?”
“My guess, stealing your power. You sure you didn’t notice anything?” His calmness put me on edge.
I thought back to the odd noises in my walls, the thumping, the flickering lights. What had once seemed such a normal thing had my heart racing.
“I noticed a few things here and there but I haven’t been here a lot lately. I thought it was just an old place.”

He gave me a skeptical look and continued following the ever expanding bunch of wires and cables throughout the place. Some wires would branch off to more tiny cameras, hidden in vents and just in the shadows, one even wired into the eye of one of my pictures. ‘How have I not noticed these?’ My heart had started beating faster and faster as he discovered more. He kept going and, one by one, found all of my electric had been rewired into one central bunch that led to the bedroom. My heart stopped.

“How long have these been here?”
“Not long I’d say. We check all the appliances and outlets before we rent the places out.”
“Well where does it all lead?”
He kept knocking holes with his hammer and following the dreaded cables until finally he stopped and looked into the most recent hole he made with a flashlight.
“The space between the walls gets a lot bigger here. I think I can fit in here I see something glowing just around the corner.”
He smashed a hole big enough for him to squeeze through and disappeared into my bedroom wall. He appeared a few seconds later with a grim look on his face and his skin had gone pale. He was no longer the calm, apparently fearless, man he was before.

“You aren’t gonna wanna hear this, but there’s a little room back there. Bunch of monitors set up all over and all sorts of crap scattered around. Looks like somebody was livin’ in there but no sign of em now.” He swallowed hard. “This place is starting to freak me the hell out. If I were you, I’d move.”

I packed my things and left for my mom’s that day, not wanting to spend another second in that place. Over the next few days the police came and investigated the whole scene. They found twenty different monitors all linked up to VHS players in that little room in the walls. Surprisingly though no tapes were ever found. And neither was the thing that had been watching me all those nights.

A few weeks had passed and a box arrived on my mother’s doorstep. It was unlabeled but inside was all the little things that had gone missing in my apartment. I also found a dirty ripped piece of paper with a barely legible message scrawled on it:

I LIKE YOUR NEW PLACE MUCH BETTER.

Credit To – Hairy Monster Man

There is So Much You Don't Know About a Person

Every person has a story. Why and how they turned out the way they are, do the things the way they do, think the way they do. Their lifetime and the people he/she shared it with helped to shaped up their character. The most boring person (as you might believe them to be) has the most colourful life sometimes. 
  
 I don't understand when someone says, "I know you." No, you don't and you never can. Not my mum, not my dad, not my best-friend. No one can. There are so many things that affect me mentally and physically, you can't. The way I process my thoughts and actions is different, my life events are different. Also, I don't let anyone know me, so ehh. But this is about me as an individual.
   
My point is, some people-who don't even know you all that well enough-will judge you on the basis of two or more meetings or worse, hearsay. You can't know someone like that, let aside the fact that you judge someone! I could have been in some very adverse situations at some point to make my actions look so weird to you in certain situations. You could never know. Never, ever disregard someone like that. You don't know how some people are affected by the stuff you say, even when it was a joke. You can't ever think that a person isn't worth anything just because their outer appearance and behaviour doesn't interest you. 

I'm jumping topics now. The reason I am writing this post will be explained later. Thanks.

Living in What-ifs and a Customary Intro

My fear has always been of being judged, or rather misjudged, I'd say. I fear confiding in people, I fear the very fact of anyone even knowing the real me or my thoughts. I am afraid to trust people and scared to  tell anyone about what I'm feeling inside. I will waive the topic, do anything to not let anyone know who I truly am, though I must admit I enjoy the limelight. 
The reason this petty fear has caused me much trouble is because I suffered from terrible, terrible depression (does not mean this will be a blog about a whining little girl, mind the stereotypes, again) and no one ever knew. I couldn't talk to anyone about it, not even a counsellor. I spent so much time thinking what others would think that it ended up eating me inside. But, that's meant for another post.

Depending on what you want to believe, I could be anyone. I could be your next-door reclusive neighbour for all you know. Age is just a number, it will only cause presumptuous stereotypes, of which I'm not a part. This blog will probably span the topics of art, literature, writing, reading, music, philosophy, and occasional posts about my life and events. I could not give the least thought about the views or hype I get from this, this is for me.

Coming back to my question, do you ever think what would've happened if certain events or things hadn't happened to you? I ponder about it all the time. What if I hadn't messed up so much in my school? What if I hadn't had to go through the depression? What if I wasn't with the type of friends I have now? What if?
My words in life are "La vie sans regrets." Live life without regrets. I wouldn't change a thing in my life. It has contributed in shaping me up the way I am. And there is stuff I try to make sense of, was it all supposed to happen this way? Or, why is this happening to me at this time? Is it fate or is it karma or is it something my wee brain can still not comprehend? When I talk to my friend D (more about her later) about this, she tell me I cannot be thinking about stuff like that as I'm an atheist. True, but there are things I still believe in. Is atheism merely the disregard of everything? I try to listen and read everything in life. There are so many things. Any information about something new will not be ignored by me. Then, I make my hypothesis.

Gahh, I just don't know life.