Genius, the ∞ capacity for pain takings.

"Genius . . . means the transcendent capacity of taking trouble."

- Thomas Carlyle <Federick the Great>

Be honest I have never read that book. I got the quote from <A study in Scarlet>, the very first Sherlock Holmes Adventure by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Holmes was saying the definition of genius being able to take pains infinitely (my interpretation: don't feel the pain at all, in the first place) was a very loose fact, but he believe it was true for detective work. My take on that is that the term genius, initially, is a term made by people probably out of exclamation and astonishment. It is not something proven scientifically that has a scientific and universal definition such as the word: amygdala. Thus since it is born of a sentimental origin then don't expect it to come out as a technical form.

Anyway recently I have been thinking about this statement made in 19th century. The more I dwell on it the truer is seems to me. 

What is a genius? Sometime who can accomplish tasks that are exceptionally difficult, usually viewed as impossible. Someone with an abnormal high intelligence which enables them to absorb information at a faster and deeper level. So far these are my impressions of geniuses. Or maybe someone born with exceptional powers, like an extreme sensitive brain to numbers but that I take it to the first category. 

Then the question probes further: what exactly makes them geniuses? Genes? Genetics is no doubt an appalling issue which I blatantly expressed in many occasions, and if something is achieved by genetic lottery there's basically nothing to explore as individuals (not unless you want to bring the whole family tree in). If not only genes, then hardwork? That's very plausible and carefully I should observe, more acceptable. What else? Attitude? Important one, the most important one. 

Assuming all of these are true( more than 90% I'm certain they are true), there has to be a sum-up factor. People might say a single statement is biased and sometimes not accurate. Nope the simpler statements are not only accurate but also concise and beautiful. Albert Einstein once said, "If you can't explain it to a six year old, you don't understand it yourself." 

Since the title and the first sentence of this post contain the theme so I'm not going to beat bush at any corners but just reveal that genius is simply someone who can take pains infinitely. 

There people fundamental differences among people and that sadly, meaning the brain structures of everyone is different. Area that associate with emotions and pains - amygdala, is structurally (genetically) different for everyone. When the generic word 'different' is used, I mean the extent of modulating emotions; the speed of decoding information and the rate of neural firing. All of which made us fundamentally different when we are assessing our situation and problems.

Hardwork is easy to explain. The harder you work the better you are. A few years ago I would say this is not necessarily true but now I affirm that it is absolutely true . If you are not getting what you want after an intensive so-called hard work, it's either you're barking up the wrong tree or you are simply not working hard enough. The former is easy to see but hard to resolve, old habits die hard; the latter is hard to see and hard to resolve. People often assume they are working really hard but more often when you compare your process with others', you will normally see a difference and sometimes a stark difference. Unfortunaly people always compare results, hardly processes. Hardwork is pain, level of endurance varies. Masochists are lucky in this case.

Attitude is straightforward to see as well. When I say it's the most important one I mean not that it is the biggest factor out of all three but an important concept for those of us (no genius genes and not masochists) to grasp. Attitude determines the way you look at the problem. You want to be a musician, a composer and in order for you to achieve that you have to learn an instrument. Practicing the instrument on a daily basis for at least 4 hours is exhausting and tedious, or even technically speaking, dull. Yet you will do it, simply you don't view it as a chore. You like the feeling immersing yourself in rhythm and notes. You taste the improvements and small milestones. That sensation of exalting musically to next level is indescribable. Therefore you don't feel the exhaust so vividly, you don't mind the tediousness and of course you don't feel bored.

Look here mates, we couldn't change our genes and the willingness to work hard depends partially on genes as well. Hence the only thing we can fully have the control of is our attitudes. The brain is powerful ( that's a ridiculous understatement by the way) and by commanding the brain to adopt a certain attitude is possible, this pushes us nearer to genius state. Needless to say commanding your brain is not easy, possible not very probable, but that's the only thing you need to do. You only need to focus on changing the attitude given by it and rest will follow. That's why it is the most important concept, simple and powerful.

On a side note, masochists does not equal to geniuses. The former likes the pain, the latter doesn't even feel the pain.

It is rare of me writing inspirational stuff like this, that is to say if you consider what I've written is inspirational. Yet I think it is of paramount importance to let people know. The world undoubtedly represents misery, wrapped in entertaining distractions. However all of these were in our minds, we see them as entertainments. Strike the brain and the world will change, for your sake.

Let's talk about the end.

We all know that one day we will die. It is a matter how we die. Guess majority of us hope our deaths will be a less painful and peaceful one. But the thing is, we will die. We will lose the life in our body. Our brains will stop functioning, our blood will stop circulating, our always-on nerves will stop dashing about. Everything about us will come to a standstill. Our voices will never be heard again, no matter how hard our loved ones cry over us. Our face will not be lighting up again. Our minds, our attitudes, our potentials will never be discovered deeper again.

Regardless how peaceful death may be, the end is the end. No running way of it, this I'm sure.

I experienced death today. In the afternoon I had a severe pain in the lower part of my legs. The pain was life that of calcium-deficient but in a much more intensified manner. I was groaning a bit and a tad confused - certainly I don't have to grow anymore so why this calcium-deficient kind of pain? Due to a test coming up anon I didn't give it too much attention.

After the test, on my way walking back to my accommodation, the pain was back. Or it had always been there and it was just a matter of me noticing. It was so severe and excruciating I couldn't even walk properly or stand any longer. But it was just annoyance been ground out of it, still I didn't give much thoughts. 

Upon reaching home I received Mama's call. She asked how my day was and how the test was. While replying I felt a sudden amplified sore in my legs, thus naturally I talked to her about the pain. What a 'mistake' it was! Mama worried, using her particular straining and dragging voice to remind me taking care of myself.

It was only after I hung up I then realized it might be a problem more than just normal rigid muscle pain. The paranoid-ness in me stared working. I recalled about terminal stage of bone cancer... Then an inevitable wave of fear swept over me, followed by that was a tsunami of grief. Goodness grief.

I cried. Cried and cried. Tears soon pooled on the desk. 

Cancer! Terminal stage! What might become of me! A painful death! Oh really! Why! Why me! Becau of all the hatred I had in me! How about my future! How about my mama! She love me so much and it will kill  her to know that I'm dying! No! God I repent! No, not working now it's bit too late. God I....

The prayer was cut off by myself, my so-called sanity. If it is designed by Him, there's no way to escape it. Sat crestfallen in my chair, face crimson with fear and anxiety, I googled my problem. None of the search results suggests cancer, but a number of them talk about blood clots which can be dangerous as well. Apparently if the problem persists go see a doctor to get some medication.

Really, in just a few seconds time my brain seemed to function normally again. Well it seemed to do so, because when I proceeded to the bathroom I thought of death again. Blood clot is probable since I love to exert pressure to my legs while studying but cancer is possible as well. 

Then I thought to myself if, I was really struck with bone cancer at terminal stage, how was I going to live my remaining life? Continue being an arrogant and rude arsehole to bring my type of justice to the world? That was the original answer to the question of 'what will you do if today is your last day?' But now I don't tend to answer the question with that answer. Strangely I thought of love.

I thought of spreading love and being forgiving. When I see someone who doesn't dress cleanly I won't shun them but understand them. When I see people rushing towards a bus without queuing I won't detest them but try to fathom and pray for them. When I see people giving birth to many children I won't despise them as mere animals, but just admiring their endurance of pain. 

No it's not saying my values are reverted or distorted but it is to say I take a step back and try to see the story behind. I will still judge, this is unconscious thus I cannot control, but I will not express my adversity to such bare extent. When things are too bare, it hurts a bit too much.

Thank God for changing me. You know, cancer is possible. Let's end this post by my self-composed poem:

Death, a sting.

Yet the impending of it a queer thing.

The pain arouses you,

An arousal serves as pivot

That to another direction we turn to.

I thank thee,

For the pain inflicted on me.

This is an analogy,

To a future's mystery.

A mystery indeed!

We know what the end is,

But not how we will come to be.

For many a time I thought love is redundant,

Now I see my love was never even sufficient.

I pray.

- <Calling to You.>

Internal struggles

This is a profound, more accurately said, a rare Chinese martial arts joke that you have 'internal injuries' due to 'internal struggles.' Internal injuries in martial arts' sense is about the internal strength which you use to give your body energy is crippled and this damage can cause serious outer injuries or even death.No I'm not a martial arts expert, the knowledge is gained from Louise Cha fictions which he fancifully describes various kinds of martial arts.He is still one of the greatest author I've ever known.

His insightful description regarding different human beings is really a joy to read.

Whereas my internal injuries is from, mainly to say, self affliction. I used to describe my self-afflicting act as masochistic. But then I realized I'm not a masochist at all, yes I do hurt myself psychologically and I do it on a regular basis but there is no satisfaction yield. Rather, guilt and annoyance and frustration are the common products. Thus I know that I hurt myself not out of boredom to get off but out of habits.

Slow but fatal habits to hurt myself.

My mama is a cheerful and positive person. She always sees the good side of people and always feel that it is better to forgive than rebuke. I'm the direct opposite of her. I don't see the positive side of people but get more impressed when someone accidentally reveals a darker side. Yup the word is indeed 'impressed.' And when people make mistakes, oh please, the word 'forgive' is never in my dictionary. I wiould first rebuke, then remark, full of insults of course and isolate at last.

Mama said I will hurt myself eventually if I'm to be so hardened and unforgiving. She's right and wrong. Right that I hurt myself and wrong about 'eventually', I sense the pain and torture at the same time while I am tormenting others.

Ah surprisingly I do. Evidence of the presence of a conscience? Maybe. 

Then I questioned myself: why this habit? What had exactly happened to me so much so that such a deadly habit is induced? What can I do to get rid of it, when these toxicating thoughts buried its root since a time I'm not even aware of?

I struggled.

Struggled and struggled because I couldn't find a solution. Whenever I'm facing people or being entrapped in a large crowd my senses all sharpened and they are screaming at me to look at their flaws.

"She's talking in such an idiotic way!"

"He's bloody dirty and disgusting! Haven't you smell the taste of instant noodle off his shirt?!"

"All the bloody crowd should die! Crowding and pushing you like this!"

The aftermath hurts me. Slowly. I feel every tremble of guilt slapping right in my face and I see, yes literally see, verses of scripture showing in front of my eyes and sounds of mocking ringing in my ear. I then swallowed my saliva, as if the guilt can be swallowed and digested by similar acidic medium in my stomach. 

I prayed and called for help. The next day, oh well not so far, the next hour, I struggled again.

Struggled and fought and lost and prayed.

This peculiar cycle, honestly, is killing me. Sometimes I just want to give up on praying and slip into the devilish way as I seemingly meant to be. Yet the Holy Spirit yells out to me to cling on. I did cling on. Then the cycle repeats. 

As if this single cycle is not enough, I have to put up a strong front whenever I'm facing my friends and families. I must smile and be funny, childish, cute, graceful, caring and innocent. People said this is split personality but I said this is an excellent cover-up that I skillfully mastered to survive in this world.

Everyday I struggled. Internally, when I'm smiling and telling jokes, I struggled. Internally, when I'm listening a lecture, I struggled. Internally, when I'm on the public transports, I struggled.

It seems ridiculous I know and it may even seem fallacious to some of you. Yet the world is a peculiar place and peculiar things can happen. Apply Murphy's theory please. 

Mama said it took time for me to get out of the cycle because it is also a process of growth.

"Growth of what?"

"Your mind, obviously."

"For all you know I may die before I reach that grown stage. These struggles kill me. They will kill me one day."

"Patience...be more forgiving and observant..."

"I wish I'm you. All the positivity and genuine cheerfulness."

"Well I don't know how it comes to me honestly."

"Genetics," I whispered, rather to myself.

Genetics.

Fists clenched.

Lord help me.

  

Loneliness, or isolation, my friend.

I really believe I'm not the only one who had named her toys.
Furry teddy bear as Winston Exeter and hilarious rubber chicken Simon Vale.
The only startling point is that not only I gave them a name but also a last name, adopted Japan's style of getting their last names: by the places they live.
I talked to them.
Winston was with me after I came back to Singapore but Simon only came when I moved to Kent Vale.
I talked to Winston about everything, not in a random manner as I tend to talk to my friends but always try to start from the very beginning, peeling the matter in a trying systematic way.

One reason of me talking to them is because I believe talking helps me to stay clear-minded.
Even though, just as Sherlock Holmes in Elementary said, "I still prefer animated objects (humans or animal)".
I would like to, but I have no pets or no such "Watson" beside me.
The other reason is that I need someone to talk to.
I speak to God sometimes but God doesn't need me to recite everything from my mind since He already knows everything I want to say.
I still talks to Him though.
I can't talk to my Mum, she's the type of parent who loves to make a mountain out of a molehill and turn every conversation into a lecture.
I understand her, and appreciate that sometimes, it's just too tiring to persuade her to listen to me and respond accordingly like a friend will do.
Well, I guess you can assume that I'm a self-centred person.

I guess, or I believe, or I'm convinced that loneliness is the core reason.
I'm lonely.
There is no friends whom I can find anymore can listen to my ramble.
They all gone, to Australia, to New Zealand, to United Kingdom.
Not saying I don't have any other friends but there is something about me now.
I've changed.
Changed in a manner that I couldn't face my other not-so-close-but-on-good-terms friends.
It would just exhaust the soul out of me if I care to explain to them the changes I undergone.
Also I can literally picture their responses and their followed actions after my impenetrable explanation.
Of course you can say I don't have the need to explain myself but thing is I don't view them as I did before.
I'm different now so you, the world in my new perspective, is different now too.
Ah talk about perspective, there's a powerful quote from The Kite Runner, "Perspective is a luxury when your head is constantly buzzing with demons."
I prayed hard that I'm not that case.

At the same time I couldn't, or I don't want, to make new friends.
I know I have plenty of opportunities.
As long as I have the patience, a strong friendship can be forged in a year's time.
The problem is I don't have that precious virtue.
Or let me put it tactfully, I divert this virtue into some other areas, such as reading complicated and convoluted essays, new hobby.

Honesty is something, I perceive, greater than patience.
I'm lonely.
I need someone to talk to.
I want someone whom I can understand and capable of understanding me by my side always.
I want to talk without being afraid of offending this one, upsetting that one.
If so unfortunate that there's no one to share my...hmm wisdom, I rather befriend loneliness.
It's a stupid friend.
Never really takes any initiative to help but is extremely capable of giving bizarre ideas regarding important life decisions.
Then again I guess it's my turn to control.
In any case why should you always heed an advice of friends for your life direction?
Am I not an fully grown adult?
Why should I always let my friends to influence me?
Can't I influence them instead?
Must my loneliness be the same as those that pestering other poor souls?

Matter of choice.
I will smile to the end.

The burden is off, now I'm sure.

It's a bit interesting I have to listen to music while I'm writing about this, every time.

When I said "this", it refers to something happend to me in the disastrous year of 2012.

Yes that year was simply disastrous, and for more than once I told myself that I rather go through 'A' level ten times than experiencing that incident just a tiny 1% of it.

Lol in fact it had become a motivation when I'm enduring some sort of pain, be it physical or mental.

Okay, let's start by narrating what had happend today.

I had an appointment with Yuanyi, a classmate and a friend of mine in Junior College.

We met in MRT and I took my Graduation Certificate, then we proceeded to canteen.

She wanted to meet some of her friends and we have to wait for them to knock off.

While waiting and chatting, Yuanyi suggested we should bought drinks.

After buying a cup of nostalgic ice milo, I saw Ermy.

She was the only Malay girl in my class back in 2012.

I had always liked her when we were classmates, funny and positive.

Needless to say the affection ceased quite a lot after we separated in the following year, the statement of "distance makes the hearts grow fonder" doesn't apply to friends who have a mere acquaintance-like bond.

Yet I still have the urge of saying Hi to her, the deeper and truer motive underpin this urge is unknown.

Or I'm scared to find out.

Laugh out loud.

So I did wave at Ermy and sort of say Hi.

She waved back while I walked nearer to the table she was sitting and then I noticed her.

The woman.

Okay, it's 'the girl'.

Her name is nothing similar to Irene Adler, she has initials of LKY.

For some reason I don't really want to mention her name here, hmm let's call her Kate.

So Kate was sitting opposite Ermy.

Her face is the same as I remember it, tanned and tough but delicate to the extent that it reveals an exotic beauty.

I saw her, wasn't too surprised because I know she and Ermy hang out all the time, and I waved at her as well.

If my memory did not fail me I think I smiled, too.

Awkwardly and clearly shocked, she waved back in a timid and firm way.

Firm because I'm very sure she waved, timid because it was obvious that she was shocked and the movement of her hand waving in the air resembles someone drowning in the sea calling for help.

She did smile too I believe, also the same way as I remember it.

The stretched lips pulled to a elastic curve and her big eyes curved into a shape of crescent.

I guess she looked lovely, from my description.

I then nodded and left.

By saying left, I'm not implying the fact that I stopped there to greet them but I had been walking all along just slowed down a little and then reverted back the original speed.

The interception was so short, it felt as if it didn't happen at all.

Yet in the bottom of my heart I know somehow Kate, if I remember her personality as good as her face, she might respond somehow.

I could feel myself that I had the expectation of getting a more definite respond but physical weakness was failing me.

Upon reaching home, I flopped on my bed and had a good nap.

Waking up slightly disoriented, I found a message on my phone.

From Kate.

Due to the tiny bit expectation I had earlier on, I wasn't really surprised.

"I'm shocked to see you today, not in a bad way though."

Not the exact words but the meaning is there.

"I know it couldn't be bad," I was telling the truth.

"How do you know? Thanks for having faith in me."

"Because there is no reason for you to feel bad for my presence."

Then we talked about other stuff, the conversation flowed effortlessly.

I could even openly talk about my feelings towards my past grudge against her.

While still during 'A' level period, I knew I was more or less put the past behind.

Yet I couldn't confirm that.

Because I know how triggers work and how scary and detrimental they can be.

A single word from her can instantly stimulate anger, jealousy and hatred.

Thus I guess she was right last time in saying "if we talked there will be fire sparked somewhere"

Going to UK, back to SG, enrolled in University.

All these things wear me out and I kept myself busy.

Yet the time hasn't erased my fear.

I'm still, under the control of triggers.

I have no idea how messy things could be if I see her or talk to her again.

That was one of the two reasons I changed church.

Maybe I was wrong, but she was, to me, clearly a distracting factor in church.

Then today, coincidentally and ... beautifully, the flame sparked in a cheerful way.

Quote from my own message to her,

"It's the mental burden I shook off finally...See, I don't feel awkward or panic or even a single trace of anger when speaking to you... I guess time doesn't really heal any bloody wounds, it's the mental growth."

Well guess I shall tap on my shoulder and fall in love with Sheridan again.

The true relief, came after 2 years.

Not really a long time if you think about it, those in dramas take half of their lifetimes to reconcile haha.

It was difficult on both sides, hence it is precious when she said,

"Nice catching up with you too (:"

Busyness gets me somewhere.

For the last few months I've been pretty heated up.

Easily-angered, prone to feeling annoyed and have an increasing sarcastic way of looking at all things.

It was really very bad, I didn't know why and neither do my friends and families.

Then the thought of being idling around might be a cause occurred to me at some point of time.

Subsequently I tried to fill my free time up with something.

Reading was one of them, Sherlock Holmes Adeventures and some other Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work.

Currently on The White Company, seemingly boring but an interesting read.

I indulged myself in biblical scripture studying, it is somewhat fulfilling but since I limit myself up to only a few chapters everyday the amount of exposure did not really aid a lot, especially at this stage I'm still at the monotonous part of those ancient Jewish laws.

Then I thought of watching shows.

WelI I wasn't the one who suggested the idea to myself.

Several friends of mine recommend me a few shows, Gossip Girls and some crime show in US.

Due to some seemingly absurd cultural repulsion I didn't really go into watching those popular shows but started on Sherlock and Elementary, which are modern adaptationsSherlock Holmes adventures - given that I'd more or less finished watching the classic ones feature Jeremy Brett.

These shows are brilliant.

The scriptwriters should get 80 percent of the credits, especially the ones in Sherlock (Good Job Mr. Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat)

However, all these activities, which are designed to divert my attention from being frustrated all around the clock, did not really work well.

Maybe they are effective in short term - I stopped being angry for a while since my dramatic nature compelled me more or less do some imitations of actors and actresses, they just didn't work once I slam close my books or laptop.

Then another thought occurred to me: maybe university life may change me.

Not really a solution I thought of, more like a hope, since I have to go to university in a few weeks' time.

But hey it works!

The moment when my orientation started, things somehow just came to me.

I applied for a barrista job in this small school café called Humble Origins.

The interview, well not really an interview but more of a friendly personality inspection, went rather smooth.

At present the staff seems communicable to me, and rather intelligent of some sort.

Believe that soon after my curricular settled I can start working.

Even before this barrista thing came in, I took the initiative to look for a tuition teaching job.

My invaluable friend Yahhan provided me a lot of invaluable information and no doubt she helped me in terms of speed of settling a job like this.

Now I only hope I don't mess up anything and help those poor weak students as far as I can.

The of course, the university won't let me off.

There are modules to arrange and there are talks to attend.

The fact that the university is getting increasingly populous, though remained a detestable fact, indirectly helped because the competitiveness in NUS just forced me to stay alert...

That wasn't really as news worth to celebrate I know, well we have to make the best out of everything for the present right?

Living in the moment, living in the present. *sings the song*

So apparently busyness got me somewhere.

The real busyness,ones that require a bit of leg work.

Too much may not be good, yet my gut tells me the more the merrier.

This urge to write.

I always have this urge to write.

Maybe this urge is common among young people, especially sentimental girls.

The problem is I don't always have materials to narrate.

More often than not when some extraordinary incidents occurred, I'm always so overwhelmed by any relative emotions evoked that I would be too shaken to write a word.

This funny (yet common) trait is not unique on me, the newspaper editor in Six Napoleons also experienced the same thing.

However if I'm fortunate enough to write down something, I want it to be interesting enough to evoke some, at least some no matter how trivial, ripples of sentiments of the reader.

Before achieving that, as to to be able to touch others, I must move myself with my own words first.

This is a basic concept to almost everything.

Then about language skills.

Definitely I'm not a fantastic and illustrative writer who can literally play a lively movie in front of readers' eyes by using mere words like Dan Brown.

Though it's something I always want to achieve.

I try to brush up my language skills by reading great novels written by good authors, so far my favorites are books by Dan Brown and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

The problem with Dan Brown is that the story begins captivating and ends sloppy.

Whereas Sir has a wide range of historical knowledge which he eagerly wants to integrate into his conventional fictions and too often the amount becomes a bit too bulky that simply bores the reader.

Yet again I guess to be a good reader patience and some form of resilience are required as well.

Hopefully one day I can write clearly and interestingly, which may eventually benefit me financially.

Laugh out loud.

I'm serious.