I found a piece of material I wrote years ago on my old computer. I was going through its hard disk cleaning out whatever that I may not want people to see. It’s time I throw out my old computer. Read it, I retyped it out okay. There was no way I could transfer it here coz that old com cannot read my pendrive, doesn’t have a burner, and I doubt the internet would work on it without first giving me a heart attack.
Much of my time spent today was to concoct an essay in the hope of spinning up an amusing text. Well, I would have to say that it was a vain attempt. But at last, I am sitting down and trying to type a piece of readable matter. I have never considered myself as a person with an itch for writing. It has always been an issue for me when it comes to composing an essay. You might think, “What is it that makes it so hard about writing an essay?” Unfortunately, I myself cannot answer that. But, I do believe that many suffer from this disease of mine.
Considerations had been given to writing about issues concerning the self-absorbed, materialistic mankind or the exhausted planet earth. But in the end the mind-brawl between the two ideas are better settled with a new title. As fresh ideas flow in, the dilemma continues for the fickle-minded me. Months of not having to write a single essay have, without a doubt, taken a toll on my ability to write.
As more mental exercise took place, the buzzing insects flitting around my legs have started to annoy me. Soon enough, I found myself taking mosquito catching as a sport. Although it may sound exaggerated, I would say the air is infested with this blood-sucking creatures. I guess this is what hot and rainy season brings to life. Just then, the idea of writing about my favourite fictional character, Forrest Gump, sprang into my mind. Although just a fiction, I have always been fascinated by the way he lived his life, just by the simple words, “Life is a box of chocolates”, what his momma told him. How or why life is analogized to chocolates, I do not know. What I do know is, the world would most certainly be a better place had everyone lived the way he did, sincere and unpretentious. Some may regard him to be a bit simple, but to me, he certainly has a beautiful mind. Quoting The Dhammapada, Mind is the forerunner of all actions, All deeds are led by mind, created by mind. If one speaks or acts with serene mind, Happiness follows, as surely as one’s shadows.
That would have been what I would elaborate on if I were to write about him. However, the thought of it faded. Perhaps I prefer watching and reading it that to writing it. Brainwaves continue to propagate as I search for a different perspective to write. As physics would have hypothesized, energy would be transferred from the source of the wave, my brain. My eyelids start to droop and it is time for my spiritual sleep. I think I will stop now.
I absolutely do not remember when or especially why I wrote it. The English didn’t even sound like mine. I suck now. But there are parts in the piece where I sound like I’m speaking in the present and yet another in the past. I guess I can’t make up my mind whether I should be writing about what’s going on or what went on. And I think I still have that problem. Well whatever. I think some lines sound cheesy. And uh…what’s The Dhammapada?! Did I really write this?