Friday, July 11, 2014

Riddled with dreams


I love the double meaning of the word “riddle”. Imagine a firing squad. And a surreal metal bucket sentenced, say for the death of nursery rhyme characters Jack and Jill. After the command, bullets puncture the tin. But instead of water, what spills are whispered sweet nothings between Jack and another girl, who say, goes by the name of Janet. The scene is filled with their hushed voices as they plot to murder Jill, get away with it, and live happily ever after.


I wonder what is more painful: the riddling of the bucket, or the discovery, by say, Jill’s bereaved family, of Jack’s betrayal. Isn’t the imagination the greater riddler?


Could having too many aspirations in life be too draining?


There was once a time I dreamed of being a lawyer, after my grandfather. And spurned on by the early novels of John Grisham.


Much, much later I also fancied myself as an advertising creative. I wonder if having either career, both taxing but at least more straightforward, could have made me more focused.


Any happier? I wouldn’t know.


Who knows what coping mechanism I would’ve abused if I weren’t.


Short-sleeved shirt, Francis Libiran for Myth
Pullover, Zasum
Jeans, Jil Sander
Belt, A.P.C.
Lace-ups, Doc Martens
Socks, Uniqlo


Here’s some trivia before I move on: when I was a kid, according to my mom, whenever I’d hit my head against the wall or some piece of furniture (because only God knows what I was doing or trying to do), I’d lose consciousness. Of course, as a responsible parent, my mom would panic and bring me to the doctor. Nothing was wrong (now, don’t contradict me here, haha), thank heavens! Though my stylist/barber would have a difficult time cutting my hair because my head is full of bumps and ridges.


Now I’d be the one to say it: maybe my solitary adventures as a child was really beneficial; maybe my little accidents activated some hidden part – some lobe or part of a cortex – that makes me think this way. Crazy, who’s crazy? Everything’s scientific!


Anyway, my apologies for being (seemingly) scatter-brained. I blame Friday for stimulating my lifelong ADHD. In any case, after everything that’s happened to me, things still follow a plan.


Trousers, G2000
Beanie, 5cm


No straight path, for sure. Good thing, that as a child, I enjoyed connect the dots!

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