apparently, according to a few friends, my thesis is emo as hell. i agree.

Painting Murals: an excerpt

But I guess if I had to be hit by a flying brick, I think I wouldn’t mind being in a coma – it’s just like uninterrupted sleep. Besides, I’ve always wondered where comatose patients go to. You see, by choosing not to believe in all that crap that doctors constantly whisper to family members of comatose patients – you know, the whole: talk to him, he can hear you bit – pushes me to think that perhaps there might be a possibility for something more, something beyond our own understanding. I mean, who are they trying to kid? If someone has his eyes closed and is not moving a muscle, I highly doubt that he can hear the external world.

My theory is this: comatose patients go to the same world we all visit when we daydream. It is a pretty viable theory if you think about it. Haven’t you ever noticed how when you’ve reached the deepest level of daydream – when you begin to feel as if the images you’ve envision in your mind is really happening – that you become incapacitated and numb to the external world? Germs, my plague of a brother (whose real name is Jeremy), once told a room full of unremembered relatives – those annoying aunts and uncles that just can’t seem to stop cooing at the sight of how much you’ve grown – that whenever my eyes turned vacant, it would take him almost fifteen minutes to snap me back to reality; and no matter how vigorously he would shake me or - as he enjoys doing ever so often - scream profanities in my ear, my eyes refused to blink but instead retreated further back into its socket.

Hilarious.

It’s always funny whenever people try to snap others out of a daydream. The stupidity of the shaking and the screaming reduces the act of communication to an almost alien level, where both parties seem to be unable to comprehend each other. It is as if for that moment, they reside in two separate worlds and neither wants to visit the other. But that’s the whole point though isn’t it? Comatose patients enter a completely different world where the former symbolic order they once functioned in is null and void. How does one then expect them to understand the language that those who are in the present engage in? Impossible.

Doctors need to shut up. My brother needs to shut up. Christmas reunions are not the proper place and time to clue my relatives in on my issues.

[shall not post the rest.]

i find it rather a disappointment that my novel is far from being literary in any way. it's just sad that there might be a high possibility that i'll end up lambasting this stupid novel in the future; and it's not helping that my writing has been crappy as hell lately. i can't even bring myself to piece together proper sentences that reek creative genius - not that i consider myself a creative genius, i think my writing relies mostly on brain fart for its random bouts of pretty-ness. but whatever, i think i miss the inspired me; the me who wrote an ars poetica piece for a creative writing class (a piece which i, of course, now detest for obvious reasons) and the 'Chase the Light' piece which, although is lovey-mushy as hell, makes me happy. i should have decided to do a collection of short stories instead because a collection of my usual lovey bullshit is still better than my emo as hell novel. perhaps a creative non-fiction collection would have been an even better idea since i frequently blog myself to death and thus could simply submit my blog as my thesis and get it over with it.

here i go again second guessing a decision...

oh wells, at least i have the whole of next term to work on improving my writing before i tackle thesis2.