August 15, 2015 by Wayne.
I promise I’ll get around to doing the podcast/webcast series soon. There’s just too much on my plate right now to start.
I’ve been thinking lately about chance and human connections. And also about how rare it is to find people who understand you (well, me). It’s nice to not have to dumb down any aspect of the self just to be able to carry a conversation. It’s nice not to have my genuine interest in things dismissed as haha so hipster. In other words, it’s nice to sometimes pretend that I’m not a Malaysian in Malaysia interacting with Malaysians who generally shun knowledge in all forms.
Anyway, what does it really mean to be understood? It’s quite a question, especially when I’m still at a stage of trying to fully understand myself (which is to say the veneer of the self painted on to the uncontrollable bundle of nerves and involuntary reactions at the core). Am I the sum of my semi-fleshed out worldviews that I cobbled together from a variety of sources? Am I the sighing insistence that I was made to make things, beautiful or otherwise, and that all I needed was the time and privilege and capital to have been more than what I am?
Or maybe I’m the restless state of unfounded arrogance, screaming inside that I’m special and need to be with people who recognize that in a place that facilitates it. Maybe I’m the muted desire for achieving something, anything – muted not by the external mufflers I rail against, but by the doubt and insecurity and fear that coat everything I do.
Not that I do much at all.