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I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings Friday, November 9, 2012 |


I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
by
Maya Angelou


The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom. 

Talking about birds suddenly brought this soulful piece out from my memory. I have not read anything much by Maya Angelou, except her autobiography, also aptly title 'I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings'. This piece really inspired me. The thirst for freedom. The longing for ascendancy. The fear of conformity. Such poignant issues, spoken through the words of a simple poem.

Maybe I'll turn it into a song one day, when I'm feeling particularly artistic. Today shall be a day of peace. One day, when I'm inspired. But not today... Not today.

Living Life |

Life.

Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud. Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

It's pouring rain... It's pouring rain. That is not a figure of speech, if you will. The implied meaning is of course, both figurative and literal. Will I drown in this wave of implosion? Or does every cloud have a silver lining? All that sounds so cliché-ridden. But that is the essence of drama. Such is the life of a true thespian. That is what life is all about, I guess. 

My day started out surprisingly sanguine.  I kid you not. Today is hopefully the last of all my mid-term papers. This one turned out better than Biochemistry, even though I effectively had only Thursday night and Friday morning to prepare for it. That's not a big issue in itself... But guess what? The little devil that is my microbial genetics lab report decided to show up and condemn me even more. And good ol' smart me decided to sleep early last night and start studying in the morning. Big mistake. The report totally slipped my mind. And it took up more time than I had anticipated. Nothing is easy, especially when you're an obsessive compulsive perfectionist. It took me one whole morning to finish 4 slides, and I could have finished the remaining 8 slides... If it weren't for the god-forsaken lab report. The lab report took up all my remaining time, and left me with less than half an hour to go through 8 slides. Slides that I have not read through. Not one bit. I thank god that one of my friends was able to drive me straight to the examination hall. A big thank you to you. Heaps of love.

This first semester has not been a friendly one, I say. Not one bit. It feet as if one event is followed directly by another. I am literally swamped with incessant tasks. But who am I to complain? Who chose to take on so many things all at once? Me. Who's the one who tries to do everything solo? Me. Me, me, me, me, me.

Trust. Perfectionism. Procrastination. Over-confidence. These are the qualities in myself that I do not particularly like. I hate that I find it hard to trust others with important things, especially things like lab reports and shared assignments. I usually end up doing things myself, without sharing the burden. I hate that I have to make sure every single thing is perfect in my eyes, right down to the most insignificant detail. Nothing in the world will ever be perfect, no matter how hard a person tries. I hate that I procrastinate. I hate that I leave things to the very last minute. I hate that I think the stress and adrenaline of an approaching deadline will push me further in productivity. I hate that I'm often confident. Too confident, perhaps, that I let it blind me. Let myself be blindsided of the importance of preparation. Call me dramatic if you like, but that's exactly how I feel my life is. I hate that I'm consistently under the eyes of vultures. Vultures circling and waiting for me to slip up. Vultures waiting to swoop down for the kill.

Maybe I should have believed what others have told me. It will only get harder and harder to maintain a first class CGPA. Should I give in and focus on my results? But then again, what's university life without a few challenges? Do I want to have a invigorating and colorful university life? Or do I want to be the studious, lifeless undergraduate? I believe a person should always be balanced. A science student does not have to shun the arts. An arts student does not have to feel confused by science. I am thankful that I am a mesh of both. I am thankful that I'm artistically inclined. That I take interest in things such as proto-psychological temperaments. Things such as music and drama. Why should I limit myself to an imaginary box? Who set the boundaries of life? I thank my parents for giving me free reign of my life.

Which brings me to the actual topic at hand: Life. Life should never be boring; it should never be anticipatable. That's what I'm trying to do with my life. That's what I want to be able to tell people I've experienced. I want to be diverse, dynamic. That's the main point of this blog. My life is paradox in itself. I may be studying genetics, but don't generalize me as only a disciple of science. Just because we are science students, or arts students, doesn't mean we do not have a multitude of talents or antipodal interests. We are singers, we are inventors, we are dancers, we are writers, we are actors, we are doctors, we are designers. We are who we want to be; we are who we choose to be.

I guess we can all assume that this is what life is supposed to be like. Filled with ups and downs. Ins and outs. Smiles and tears. Victories and defeats. What's life without a few bumps on the road? I guess what I'm trying to say is: it is the experiences, the defeats and the mistakes that make us grow. What more can we do, but to mend our torn wings? I'd rather be the free bird with weathered wings, instead of the sheltered bird with perfect plumage. I know. I'm trying to paint a picture literally, but give me some slack. I like my melodramatic analogies.

Life may tear me down, but I will always rise back up. The past will always be the past. But the future is mine to behold. It's time to let go of regrets and move on. It's time for the caged bird to fly. To discover newer boundaries and horizons. Now it's on to the next... On to the next.

And the Worst is Yet to Come Thursday, November 8, 2012 |


Hello again, Blogger. What a lovely surprise; in that after all these years, we are finally reuniting so that I can once again post all my mindless rants... Sarcasm doesn't really translate well in words, no? I'm not in the greatest of moods, and that is when I get sarcastic and snarky. But fear not! This is when all the dramatic and dark ramblings start manifesting itself in my head. I'm in a very artistic mood, I might add.

What is the source of all this unpleasantness, you ask? I have just experienced my worst week in university life. Everything just caught up to me, and not in a good way. First the showcase, then the auditions, then my mid-terms. What makes it even more depressing, is that my procrastination and over-confidence once again pulled me down. Pulled down any tinge of accomplishment; capsized any possibility of ascendancy. That's how I feel right now; Despaired. I'm falling... I'm falling.

I was literally arm-twisted into joining an arts festival two states away, at the last minute. Now, I don't blame them, because it was an amazing experience. It was fun getting to know the juniors, and hanging out with my mates. It was even fun getting to know the dance club better. I feel like we've crossed that boundary that's been between us singers and them dancers. Even though the performance was troubled, we came out of it all stronger. Believe me.

T'was the aftertaste that stung; like sweet vodka. Taking out a 5 days of my time for an arts festival is no new thing. But using up 5 days of precious revision time irked me. What's more when I'm left with 2 days to study for a major mid-term. A major mid-term that I know I've successfully flunked. I've never done this badly in an exam before, and any possibility of grabbing that shining A for Biochemistry has gone down the drain. I know my own limits and abilities. No matter what impression others might have on me, I'm no genius. I need sufficient time to study, and I don't like studying. Last minute revising only works well for me when I know my material and I've missed a handful of lectures already.

All of this, on top of a vocal audition, really hit the mark. I don't even feign to comprehend how I had the audacity to walk into an audition with no warm up, no preparation whatsoever and no song choice. I know I've left a bad impression and I have regrets; but I had no time left, and studying was taking up 90% of the free time I had left. I know I shouldn't have chosen such a high key when I'm not warmed up. I know I shouldn't have chosen such an obscure song that had such wide variations in tempo. It only gave them the impression that my tempo was off. I'm not a pop singer. I'm a classically trained vocalist. I can deal with soul, with jazz, with indie, with. But to sing pop is another thing altogether.

Know this though; I'm not creating excuses. I know I can sing. I know I have soul. I know the problems I have with my voice, especially when I'm not prepared and not warmed up, and they caught on and pointed it out. I'm not conceited. But to see people who have less musicality than you do pass in, it makes me really question my abilities. Don't get me wrong though. To see my friends who can sing but aren't as confident get in, that makes me very happy; even happier than getting it myself. Guess this just proves that talent can only bring you this far. I can't believe this is what I've been telling the juniors this whole semester, and yet at this moment, contradict myself. Maybe this is just one of His trials for me. To show me what's important. To ground my sometimes-inflated ego.

But now, looking back at everything... Do you know what the saddest thing of it all is? I let it all affect me this way. I let it bring me down; pummel me to the ground. I let it turn me into this bitter, conceited person. I know I'm not expected to be smiling, but I'm thankful. Thankful for all I have. I know, I'm lucky. I know that others have worse problems. I know I should be counting my blessings. Who am I to dwell on such fiscal issues when the world has much bigger problems to solve? Who am I?

I'm like a caged bird, waiting for the chance to fly. I might not be able to ascend to the clouds yet, but I still have my voice; I still have soul. No matter how battered, no matter how torn... I'm still looking up. I'm still looking up.