JOURNAL
on the road not taken
perhaps it’s all about perspective.
“Two roads diverged in a wood and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
i often wonder if these three lines aren't taken out of context and misquoted to glamorise adventure travel and to romanticise taking a different life/career path. any path that many are afraid of taking or haven't taken is worth taking — is that really it?
perhaps it doesn't really matter which path you take; what you make of it and how you tell your story is what matters.
perspective is it.
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
on change
nothing endures, but change.
when did this happen? when did singapore become the beautiful city that it is? where have i been and what have i been doing?
how long is this going to last? singapore is getting prettier by the day, but how much prettier can it get? will it lose its charm again, once i get used to it? will i lose the childlike astonishment once it's become an everyday scene? with every new marvel, comes the lost of an old one, but why do i not feel a sense of lost? because change is refreshing? but why do i sometimes long for the old? will not the now new become the next old? will i ever get used to anything, if nothing ever stands still? or am i used to changes? why is there a surge of emotions whenever it hits me that something has changed? why do i have so many questions? why do i ask questions, if i do not search for answers? are there answers to my questions?
is it the same me that i see in the mirror every morning? do i get used to the me that i see in the mirror? is the spot on my face new? or has it been there all along? how is it possible that i've never noticed it before? how could i possibly forget its existence when it has been there all along? is normalcy scary? is getting used to things scary? is being blind to changes scary? is the fact that time is slipping away scary?
where is the young me who didn't have a clue about having a sense of time? rush hour? running late? running out of time? chasing dreams? living my dreams? have i changed? for better or for worse?
what has noticing changes done to me? do i embrace changes? is today really the same as yesterday? why do little changes escape my eyes? why do i ask so many questions? how will that change anything?
if change is the only constant, why do i still feel like the same old me? do i know what i want? do i want to be someone different? do i need to change something? is it happening? why, or why not? is the change not going to be any more than skin-deep? time waits for no one, but what am i doing?
on preconceptions
is it a she or a he?
you look at a photograph. you start to think how beautiful it looks. you think the person who took the shot must have a really good eye for details and the knowledge to choose the right equipment and settings.
unconsciously, you imagine yourself in the same position as the photographer was. you imagine yourself behind the lens. your brain conjures the image of the person behind the camera. you imagine a poetic man. you study his works. you admire his works.
a photograph throws you off. a self-portrait of the photographer. it is a she, not a he.
you wonder why you even thought it was a he. you start thinking about how you get genders mixed up while reading a book. the author is being mysterious about his characters. he does not tell you the gender. but somehow, you have an image of either a man or a woman.
you wonder what it is that makes you assume the gender of the character. you think it might be the language used. maybe it is the things the character says. or maybe the things the character does. your assumption of the character's gender is based on your perception of the differences between the genders. the different roles they play and the different aura they have about them.
you wonder if you could live in a world without preconceived notions. you figure you can't change your thought process.
the writer reveals the gender. you read the writing again.
so, is it a she or a he?