black coffee
Jul. 27th, 2006 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spiderpigI took one of my hands from his and placed my glass of wine at the edge of the table.
"It's going to fall," he said.
"Exactly. I want you to tip it over the edge."
"Break the glass?"
Yes, break the glass. A simple gesture, but one that brings up fears we can't really understand. What's wrong with breaking an inexpensive glass, when everyone has done so unintentionally at some time in their life?
"Break the glass?" he repeated. "Why?"
"Well, I could give you lots of reasons," I answered. "But actually, just to break it."
"For you?"
"Of course not."
He eyed the glass on the edge of the table -- worried that it might fall.
It's a rite of passage, I wanted to say. It's something prohibited. Glasses are not purposely broken. In a restaurant or in our home, we're careful not to place glasses on the edge of a table. Our universe requires that we avoid letting glasses fall to the floor.
But when we break them by accident, we realize that it's not very serious. The waiter says, "It's nothing," and when has anyone been charged for a broken glass? Breaking glasses in part of life and does no damage to us, to the restaurant, or to anyone else.
I bumped the table. The glass shook but didn't fall.
"Careful!" he said, instinctively.
"Break the glass," I insisted.
Break the glass, I thought to myself, because it's a symbolic gesture. Try to understand that I have broken things within myself that were much more important than a glass, and I'm happy I did. Resolve your own internal battle, and break the glass.
Our parents taught us to be careful with glasses and with our bodies. They taught us that the passions of childhood are impossible, that we should not flee from priests, that people cannot perform miracles, and that no one leaves on a journey without knowing where they are going.
Break the glass, please -- and free us from all these damned rules, from needing to find an explanation for everything, from doing only what others approve of.
"Break the glass," I said again.
He stared at me. Then, slowly, he slid his hand along the tablecloth to the glass. And with a sudden movement, he pushed it to the floor.
The sound of the breaking glass caught the waiter's attention. Rather than apologize for having broken the glass, he looked at me, smiling -- and I smiled back.
"Doesn't matter," shouted the waiter. - By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, by Paulo Coelho
I'm in a slump. A real bad slump. I hardly feel inspired to finish my HOD essay, other than my utterly selfish reason as to preserve my current 40/50 status and be the first person in class to get 40 twice, because... its so analytical. I hate being forced to be relevant, to be precise in minute detail. I want to freedom to throw out ideas, to analyse even things like why is that fullstop there because I can, and because of the intricacy of things. Like Tsu, its the desire to know - to be kaypoh - that's the best part about enjoying literature, not fitting into whatever box they give you. I want to spill over.
So when you give me a question on how the effects show the themes... I can't do anything but to aquiese to your request. I enjoy analysing and interpretting the passages, the books - but there is always that moment when it's just forced. It's a chore.
2 themes through and I'm already hitting the 800 word mark. Looks like a long essay and a long night.
What pisses me off now is the fact that the ensemble people were only supposed to assemble at 5pm. I end at either 1 or 2pm and I gladly accept the time in between to effing finish my work and catch up on a bit of studying in the library. Now I get the mesasge that we have to assemble at 3:30pm. Well excuse me, I never signed up for any of this ensemble shit. While I love my instrument and the music I play, I think the song is absolutely boring and I'm even more ticked off with the fact that I'm only performing because there are no effing J1 baritone saxophonists. Now listen here, I do not want to spend my last week of band, much less my very last time in band as an official band member slogging away for more than 3 hours being shouted at or yelled at. It is beneath my dignity to be submitted to such banalities. I am honestly sick and tired of all this shit.
So ensemble, you get to rob 3 hours from my life. Are you happy now? Are you absolutely joyous?
"It's going to fall," he said.
"Exactly. I want you to tip it over the edge."
"Break the glass?"
Yes, break the glass. A simple gesture, but one that brings up fears we can't really understand. What's wrong with breaking an inexpensive glass, when everyone has done so unintentionally at some time in their life?
"Break the glass?" he repeated. "Why?"
"Well, I could give you lots of reasons," I answered. "But actually, just to break it."
"For you?"
"Of course not."
He eyed the glass on the edge of the table -- worried that it might fall.
It's a rite of passage, I wanted to say. It's something prohibited. Glasses are not purposely broken. In a restaurant or in our home, we're careful not to place glasses on the edge of a table. Our universe requires that we avoid letting glasses fall to the floor.
But when we break them by accident, we realize that it's not very serious. The waiter says, "It's nothing," and when has anyone been charged for a broken glass? Breaking glasses in part of life and does no damage to us, to the restaurant, or to anyone else.
I bumped the table. The glass shook but didn't fall.
"Careful!" he said, instinctively.
"Break the glass," I insisted.
Break the glass, I thought to myself, because it's a symbolic gesture. Try to understand that I have broken things within myself that were much more important than a glass, and I'm happy I did. Resolve your own internal battle, and break the glass.
Our parents taught us to be careful with glasses and with our bodies. They taught us that the passions of childhood are impossible, that we should not flee from priests, that people cannot perform miracles, and that no one leaves on a journey without knowing where they are going.
Break the glass, please -- and free us from all these damned rules, from needing to find an explanation for everything, from doing only what others approve of.
"Break the glass," I said again.
He stared at me. Then, slowly, he slid his hand along the tablecloth to the glass. And with a sudden movement, he pushed it to the floor.
The sound of the breaking glass caught the waiter's attention. Rather than apologize for having broken the glass, he looked at me, smiling -- and I smiled back.
"Doesn't matter," shouted the waiter. - By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, by Paulo Coelho
I'm in a slump. A real bad slump. I hardly feel inspired to finish my HOD essay, other than my utterly selfish reason as to preserve my current 40/50 status and be the first person in class to get 40 twice, because... its so analytical. I hate being forced to be relevant, to be precise in minute detail. I want to freedom to throw out ideas, to analyse even things like why is that fullstop there because I can, and because of the intricacy of things. Like Tsu, its the desire to know - to be kaypoh - that's the best part about enjoying literature, not fitting into whatever box they give you. I want to spill over.
So when you give me a question on how the effects show the themes... I can't do anything but to aquiese to your request. I enjoy analysing and interpretting the passages, the books - but there is always that moment when it's just forced. It's a chore.
2 themes through and I'm already hitting the 800 word mark. Looks like a long essay and a long night.
What pisses me off now is the fact that the ensemble people were only supposed to assemble at 5pm. I end at either 1 or 2pm and I gladly accept the time in between to effing finish my work and catch up on a bit of studying in the library. Now I get the mesasge that we have to assemble at 3:30pm. Well excuse me, I never signed up for any of this ensemble shit. While I love my instrument and the music I play, I think the song is absolutely boring and I'm even more ticked off with the fact that I'm only performing because there are no effing J1 baritone saxophonists. Now listen here, I do not want to spend my last week of band, much less my very last time in band as an official band member slogging away for more than 3 hours being shouted at or yelled at. It is beneath my dignity to be submitted to such banalities. I am honestly sick and tired of all this shit.
So ensemble, you get to rob 3 hours from my life. Are you happy now? Are you absolutely joyous?
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 09:07 am (UTC)Btw, did you know fahy read your essay out to us? So POWERRRRRRRR. The highest he gave me was a 38 (but pract crit, not text).
and yeah, i'm not a biiiig fan of form in relation to content either. Sometimes when he keeps saying that I just want to smack and kill him. I just like to randomly muse over stuff; instead of considering techniques blah blah
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 02:46 pm (UTC)That's true... But since I never really perform during exams, I just take it to do better in assignments to uh 'prove myself'. It's like a reverse ego thing for me.
GOD YES. I have a feeling that he probably doesn't like it too, but takes pleasure in forcing us to be relevant all the time. It's like wtf lah, disecting techniques and all is fine and dandy but being relevant doesn't prove anything except that you can toe the line. hahaha.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 04:11 pm (UTC)URGH I HATE FORM IN RELATION TO CONTENT. You know today for Spaper they both pang seh me so I had like....ONE + HALF HOUR OF THAT. *dies* He's so anal and just plain boring sometimes......it's like too much intellectualism just makes you want to do something -- something trashy.
*goes off to read Seventeen*
See??? Immunity against overintelligences!
But yeah, I don't like exams either. Usually I just hope for something that I know, or a really funny question that doesn't mean anything (cos then I can do what I like)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 01:21 am (UTC)