Organized Chaos

And a Happy Birthday to my blog.

It has been a year and a day since I migrated from friendster-blogging. My reasons, though, are far from extraordinary -- I just did not want my thoughts to be fully publicized in the office. Especially when I am blogging about office woes. The alphalist series has, in its own way, been around, and I think that I didn't get into trouble, as another officemate did, because of my penchant for writing in English, which most officemates avoid like the plague.

Still, the idea of my personal thoughts in easy access to anyone of the sixty or so people whom I regularly interact with for at least forty hours a week is rather off-putting. It leads to much-unneeded inhibition and the curtailment of free-flowing expression. I still post there from time to time, but it really isn't the same anymore. Which is too bad, because I still opine that some of my better feats of verbal acrobatics were done there. It's just too bad that self-imposed censorship caused about by mild paranoia led to its untimely demise.

Ever since my first foray into whoring my thoughts onto unsuspecting web-surfers way back in June 2006, I have been using the header Organized Chaos. It suits my state of mind which is in constant flux. It doesn't help at all that I am the first to negate and counter-negate my own arguments that I end up with three opinions -- or none at all. Though others see me as a balanced individual, my thought processes are far from that state -- quite the opposite at times. Thankfully, there is still some semblance of organization amidst the chaos that dominates my mind, and this somehow helps me think out of the box when the circumstance forces me to it.

A year hence, and I am still unsatisfied with my words. Though I am afforded an avenue to express myself without the indignation -- real or imagined -- from my peers, I am still far from uninhibited with my thoughts. I am still unable to shed light into the murky abyss of conflicted emotions and contradictions that is my mind. I have much to improve, and so much more to learn. But maybe, everything is as it should be.

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This post is a response to a tag from cruxrifter of Youthanaisa

Power

Personal effects are things of power. They imbibe in themselves the dreams and desires of the person who owns them. Etched within these vessels, deeper than the names engraved upon them, further into their core, are portions of the owner's soul. The creation and the creator are separate, but the artist and the tool are one. It is through the tool that dreams are made whole; realities are woven; illusions given form.

Three years ago, I lost my totem of power; my pencil. For the past three years, my well of inspiration seemed to dry up and shrivel, mourning the loss of that one peice of my being. For two years, that pencil and I have been inseparable; conducting passions, weaving shadows, and turning it into cohesive thoughts and words. Most of these works are personal and will never see the light of day; some of them lost, burried in the dusts of the forgetful past; but I am proud of them, nonetheless. They have sprung within me and through me, they were given life, if even for a moment. The loss of my pencil; my wand; my staff; signaled the start of my diminishing dreams, my fabled fancies.

I'm still searching for that lost tool of creation; my muse; my song. But this time, I am hopeful. Though the object is lost, I realized that the source of its power has never left my side. It resides within the person and not the tool. So long as the core remains intact, the sense of wonder unspoilt, I will be able to bend reality to my will. We are the masters of our fate, and we will move mountains.

All we have to do is act.