Of Diphthongs and Monophthongs...

I am trying to concentrate on my Reading Literature assignment but the word "diphthong" makes me want to laugh.


(Emphasis on the word "trying", and obviously this is futile.)


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By the way, I should NOT even be laughing because I am in the midst of dissecting...


Exhibit A: 'Passing by Woods on a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost which talks about nature, but apparently, some interpret to be about a guy who is thinking about ending his life. (Depressing, I know...)


Exhibit B: 'The Yellow Wallpaper' by Charlotte Perkins Gilman which is equally depressing, a fiction-based-on-true-story about a woman who is forced to live in isolation, confined to a room - with bars on its windows, a bed that is nailed down to the floor, "rings and things" on the wall (suggesting that the room used to be a mental asylum) amongst other oddities - and at one point in the story, she actually literally chews her bed. And... there are underlying themes about feminism. (Go ahead, try to top that one. Pfft.)


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So... yeah. Like I said, I'm not exactly working with anything funny or amusing right now.


Yet here I am, chuckling to myself every time I see the word "diphthong".


But the thing is... "Dipthong". I mean, if you take away first "h" doesn't that give you, erm... dip-thong? It makes me think of the beach, and going for a "dip" in the sea, itty-bitty-thong-bikini.


And as if that wasn't bad enough, I come across the term "Monophthongs". Excuse me, what? Mono-thong? Monokini?


Good grief.


Focus on the assignment. Focus!

(Sleep deprivation is obviously taking its toll on me. Hmm.)



Oh, by the way...

• The word "monophthong" is derived from the Greek language. Mono = "one", phthong = "sound". Ditto "diphthong", Di = "two" and phthong, well, you know. 
• While I usually spend every tiniest fragment of free time I have; nose-deep in techno-thrillers (by Michael Crichton, as always), I actually did kind of enjoy reading "The Yellow Wallpaper". Twisted, insane, disturbing... and not bad, really :)

Beneath the facade...

Okay, this is going to be an emotional one. A little more revealing than the usual. Here goes nothing.

Sometimes I wonder why I do the things I do, or say the things I say. At times I just resent myself for messing things up.

It's like I just can't bring myself to believe that I can be happy. When things are going well, a nagging voice tells me that happiness is fleeting, and that everything is just a ticking time-bomb, and that it's only a matter of time before everything falls apart, blah blah blah. All those thoughts are just the voice of doubt. They're not necessarily the truth. I know that. But somehow, I give in. And when that happens, I regret. Today, I wonder if perhaps I have taken something that could've eventually made me happy, and just recklessly tossed it into the sea. Like self-sabotage due to my tendency of being some kind of twisted-pessimist-extraordinaire.

When it comes to work and studies, I have somehow trained myself to see things at face value, think logically (for the most part), and live in the moment. But when it comes to feelings and emotional-stuff however, I live in constant fear of things crumbling down.

I am afraid to be happy because whenever I'm happy, a doubt-filled voice asks, "How long will this happiness last?" I am afraid to believe, to hope, because with hope comes the possibility of disappointment. I am afraid to feel, because allowing myself to feel, learning to let people in, learning to open up makes me vulnerable. And being vulnerable means I could someday get hurt. And I am so afraid of getting hurt, that it's like paranoia, and it's that fear that makes me say or do things that I shouldn't have, and then things crumble.

All the right intentions, some of the most intense emotions... and yet all the wrong moves. Just one trigger, and it's like I don't even know why I said the things I did. It's like I was on auto-pilot, saying things I shouldn't have... and now that the moment's passed, even I ask, "Who is this person anyway?"

Sometimes I act like I don't care. Sometimes I come across as cold and icy. It seems as if I couldn't care less, as if I just carelessly push people away.

Often, I talk much, but I never really reveal much.

But that's just the surface. And looks can be painfully deceptive. Because that's not the way it is.

The reality is that I am vulnerable and I am emotional and I am scared of getting hurt. There are times when I act as if I'm not upset, but that's only because I don't want people to know when I'm weak. I know the world can be shallow and superficial and for so many years of my life, I have convinced the people around me that I lived in a perfectly happy family... but in reality, I was alone, and ever since I was 5 years old, music has been my safe place and my piano was my best friend, and with every tear I cried alone in my room, I turned away from people, and I turned to music, and music was all I cared about, because music really is literally the reason I am still alive and here today.

And it is difficult for me to change.  As a matter of fact, it's harder than I thought.

Yes, I act cold, I build walls.  I have a tendency to distance myself, to shut people out.

But I am thawing.  And I am trying, I really am.  Sometimes things don't go the way I want them to, and I panic and turn on my heels and run.  Then it feels like I took one step forward, only to take three steps back.  I tell myself that I have to learn to let people in. But all it takes is for one minuscule thing to happen and snap, I lose faith in everything and it's a downward spiral.  Then it feels like I'm back at square one.  As if I never tried at all.  And it takes me hours, days, maybe even weeks before I can convince myself that I have to keep believing, I have to keep trying.

Someday.  I want to feel like a real person again.  A real, living, breathing person with real feelings.  

It must happen. It will happen. Eventually.

Baby steps.  Baby steps.

Coping. Struggling. Or self-destructing. I don't know.

Finals timetable is out. Two subjects on weekdays. One on a Sunday. So I'll need to apply for leave. Darn. But maybe that's a good thing. Not having to go in to the office means I'll have some extra time for last-minute revision. That can't be a bad thing.

I'm stressed because I have so much material left to cover. I still haven't gotten the hang of the whole work full-time, study part-time thing. Some days I'm too exhausted after work that I can't bring myself to study when I get home, because I just feel like collapsing into bed and catching whatever few hours of sleep I can get before I have to wake up to another workday. I need to study during my break at work but at times I'm so overwhelmed with work or something bogs me down; and the last thing I want to do is to open my textbooks and further overwhelm my already-exhausted brain with more information.

Most of the time, when people ask me about studies, I somehow manage a smile and try to appear unfrazzled. Because I do not regret my decision. I love English Studies, I love Linguistics, and despite the brain-drain, I do want to do this.

The only thing that's killing me... is myself. Sometimes I wonder if the way I look at things, the way I see things, has the ability to do me more harm than good.

I expect so much. I want so much. I thrive on always biting off more than I can chew. I remind myself of my modus operandi: "Bite first, take a huge bite... and then chew. Just keep chewing. There are no limits. If you find it difficult, it means you're not trying hard enough. Excuses are for the weak. Make it happen."

That. That voice in my head drives me but it also breaks me down.

Thing is, sometimes I feel like disregard the fact that I am human and that I have limitations. I see myself as nothing more than a robot to which I feed commands and everything in life is just execute, execute, execute. Now, I just don't know anymore if that's the right way to do things.

I have so many things on my mind right now, studies as well as a plethora of other stuff that's been going on lately. But I'm just too tired to think. I get upset over the things that are beyond my control and I feel helpless because I cannot change those things. Then I think of the things that I can change, but I just feel so tired to do anything.

I feel so weary at times. What wouldn't I give, to feel one empty, pure moment where I can honestly say that I am relaxed, I'm not overwhelmed, to feel like I'm not constantly pushing, pushing, pushing myself.

I just need a moment. It may be short. Fleeting. Temporary. But it's better than nothing. If only I could give me that moment...

To pause.

To breathe.

To allow myself the mere pleasure of just... being.

A Grouch And An All-abundant Fountain Of Pessimist-esque

What goes up, must come down; and all good things must come to an end.

Sometimes I hate having the ability to feel...

...because the capacity to feel positive emotion comes with the ability to feel negative emotions (And yes, they eventually surface, because life just isn't a bed of roses, no matter how hard I try.)

Sometimes I'm happy, so happy, spending time with the people I love, being in places I enjoy, doing the things I love. And I wish that those moments would never end, but eventually they do...

...and then it feels like I'm back to square one. The emptiness, the deprivation, wanting more when I can't have more.

And it's during one of those moments, that I think to myself...

Do I really need more? Do I really want more?

Here's a thought: Considering the fact that even when I have something, it would eventually have to end... is having what I want, what I love, good for me? If nothing lasts forever anyway, why have it in the first place?

After all, like they say, "You never miss what you never had."

Depressing thoughts, I know. And when I'm having an "up" day, let me re-read this post and I will probably tell you, "But of course nothing lasts forever. That doesn't mean you shouldn't pursue it."

And yes, that's the way it should be. Well, I'm just being a grouch and an all-abundant fountain of pessimist-esque at this moment in time because I'm feeling glum.

Well suddenly a quote comes to mind and I figured it would be appropriate. "Tough times don't last, but tough people do." Hmm.

Oh well. This too shall pass.

Music. Always... and Forever.

It doesn't matter who or what I have in my life.

I could never love anything or anyone as much as I love you.

And I would rather - literally - die than to live without you.

I miss those countless hours with my piano, electric guitar and violin.

...

And no matter what I do; I know I will always come back to you.

When It Hurts Too Much To Feel...

My childhood, was not perfect. In fact, it was far from perfect. And no matter what I say, or who I talk to, no one could possibly ever really understand how I feel, or what I went through, and am going through, when it comes to the whole thing with dad.

Most people who have problems with parents can probably define how they feel, whether it's anger, or disappointment, or whatever feeling it is. But me... despite the way I react, or the things I say, or how I try to explain myself... I really don't know how I feel about this whole thing, even up till today.

Frustration. Anger. Hurt. Disappointment. Confusion. Sadness. Helplessly wishing, hope upon hope, that perhaps one day, the word "family" will actually mean more than what it does to me today. At times, I feel one of those things. Sometimes, I feel more than one of those. And at other times, I feel nothing but sheer indifference because I feel like I'm so numb to feeling any emotion anymore.

What about all the things they say about a parent's love being unconditional? That no matter what you do... that when you choose to live life; your way, instead of the way they want you to... that they'll still love you no matter what? Is that even true?

I know, I cannot expect my parents to be perfect. Nor do I expect them to be perfect. But is it too much to ask, for them to accept that I too, cannot be perfect?

At times I wonder if I ever want to define "family" as mum, dad, and me... because it's like to me, dad doesn't even quite exist anymore. Not in my life, at least.

Perhaps you shouldn't ever try to come back into my life. I'm sorry but my definition of "family" no longer involves having you around. Two decades of me believing you would someday change. Not anymore. So just like how you took away my piano - the very one you gave me when I was seven, the one thing that carried me through those times when I no longer wanted to live - you can take your pride, every ounce of faith I had left in you, and go hurt someone else but it won't be me.

And somehow all people ever do is to judge me, to say I'm wrong, that I should change, that I'm unforgiving. But what do they know about me? The things I went through when I was so young that I couldn't even make sense of what was going on, and the only thing I could do was to cry, to pray and to wish that things would someday change... but things never did, and all that happened was that things just kept getting worse.

And they state their opinion and offer unsolicited advice. When they haven't the slightest inkling of what I've gone through, the emotional turbulence that invades my mind.

All the memories which still haunt me up till this very day... those thoughts which cross my mind... and when they do, tears well up in my eyes. And I can't stop them, I just want to cry and cry, the way I did twenty years ago... but I hold back tears because I tell myself to be strong, I've taught myself to have a heart of stone, to never let anyone affect me again.

And the worst feeling in the world, is those moments when I feel so angry, so helpless... to the extent where I feel like I'm so tired, so very tired... that I just want to die right now so I never have to spend another moment feeling this way.

Sometimes it frustrates me, to feel numb, like I'm just unable to feel.

And at other times, when it hurts too much to feel... I figure that feeling numb is probably a good thing after all.

Because sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do...

I'm tired. Physically drained and exhausted. Yes, there are times when I feel a little sleepy and I say I'm tired, but this way transcends that. As of this moment, I feel like I'm about to just literally collapse and shut down.

Worked till 11-ish yesterday and by the time I got home it was almost 12am. Then did a load of laundry (otherwise I'd run out of uniform tees to wear today) and had my dinner-a.k.a.-pre-bed meal before I hit the sack. Eating was non-negotiable because I was starving, due to the fact that I was practically living off caffeine during the day because the only decent meals I had was brekkie (eggs and 100% sprouted wholegrain bread) and lunch (chicken breast and sweet tater). Which may seem like a huge amount of food to the average person but to me is toeing the line on starvation. I was feeling insanely weak all over that while closing the club, lifting 15kg plates felt like death. Which is pretty bad considering that when I train, I routinely deadlift more than 1x my bodyweight nowadays.

Slept at around 2am-ish last night, and got up before 5am because I was on morning shift today. Weetbix and whole milk for brekkie. First cup of caffeine, shot out of the door to get to work by 6.45am to open the gym. Literally swallowed wholewheat bread for lunch as I rushed to buy a week's worth of groceries in 45 minutes (I usually take hours to grocery-shop, so THIS, is a hurry for me). Second cup of caffeine after lunch break.

Managed to get off work just before 3pm. I was zombiefied and semi-dead but I'd planned to do my high-intensity treadmill intervals and there was no way I'd back out. Grabbed my iPhone, plugged in those headphones at max volume, and repeated to myself… "Don't just do what you want to do. Do what you have to do, to get to where you want to be."

The plan was to do 30 minutes of intervals, most of which was running at approx. 10.0km/h. Actuals: 5 minutes warm-up. 30 minutes running @ 10km/h. 15 minutes walking uphill at approx. 5km/h, 12% incline. Rest of the time was pretty much recovery. Altogether 60 minutes on the treadmill.

Exhausting but fulfilling. Well worth whatever it took to get it done.

Took a long nap when I got home. And tomorrow's just another day.

When The WHAT IF's Bog Me Down...

Lately I've been thinking about my fitness and physique goals, and somehow a plethora of doubts cross my mind. What if I'm setting goals that are too high for me to reach? What if I'm unable to achieve them? What if I'm just not strong enough? What if I just can't do it?

Thing is, the harsh reality about fitness goals is that it isn't easy to achieve them. Because when it comes to achieving those goals, most people tend to only see what's on the surface. Science and those natural laws. Things like calories in, calories out. But those are the scientific theories, mathematical equations, logical deductions. But in actual fact, they're just the tip of the iceberg.

.....

It's really the other stuff that are tougher to deal with. Things like:

Eating clean when everyone around you is having burgers, brownies and multiple margaritas.

Finding motivation on those days when you just feel like vegging out at home instead of stepping out of the door and heading to the gym.

Getting (and staying!) on that treadmill when you're feeling totally blah and you leaf through playlist after playlist on iTunes but nothing seems to be doing it for you.

Those times when you're training weights and your muscles are fatigued and after what feels like you've annihilated your delts with 4 different exercises targeting anterior, lateral, posterior delts... you wonder where you'd find the strength to face those remaining sets of lateral raises in your planned workout for the day AND progressive overload, when you're already feeling totally spent and running on empty.

The occurrences when you just don't see as much progress as you'd like to... when it's like you want to lift heavier, but at that moment your body just isn't achieving what you want it to achieve.

Those times when you have an injury and you're momentarily side-tracked. And whenever that happens, part of me wants to just 'scroo it' and work through the pain, injury be darned... but I know that's just not the right thing to do... then discouragement and frustration sets in.

And then there are those moments when you get home exhausted and hungry, and it's so much easier to just hit the drive-thru for a burger, instead of prepping a meal of chicken breast, potatoes and veggies.

Or having to deal with the temptation to snack on crap food because you had a crappy day... or dealing with upsetting stuff and feeling like if you stuffed your cheeks with chocolate, maybe the pain will go away... or fixing a peanut butter 'n' jelly sandwich (with organic natural peanut butter and 100% sprouted wholegrain bread, mind you.. just because something's healthy doesn't mean there's no calories...) because you just FEEL like eating something when you're plain bored.

And of course there's those moments when you just give in to eating something bad now and go, "I'll change from tomorrow onwards..." and we ALL know how well that always turns out.

.....

And sometimes when it gets so tough and seemingly impossible, when obstacles and situations get in the way, and it feels like my goals are just so distant and almost-unreachable... I get those moments of negativity.

So back to those questions...

What if I'm setting goals that are too high for me to reach?

What if I'm unable to achieve them?

What if I'm just not strong enough?

What if I just can't do it?

Then suddenly the thought crossed my mind: "Okay Pauline, forget about the Can or Can't, what is it that you Want?" And suddenly, it hit me.

There's no such thing as not being able to do something. I re-read my list of obstacles above and I realize that they're not insolvable, or impossible to overcome or at least cope with. I realize that I already do have the answers to solving or dealing with most of them, and that it's just a matter of focusing on what I want, and not letting temporary feelings and situations keep me from achieving what I set out to achieve.

I love this quote by IFBB Figure Pro, Pauline Nordin; whom by the way, is one of my favorite bodybuilders/figure athletes...

"Remember that nothing stops you from reaching your goal except for you yourself. If you want it you can have it, the question is how much you want it and how much you are willing to put in for it."