Sieteocho’s 254th retirement.

I have the same birthday as David Bowie. Like David Bowie, over the years I’ve had my share of false retirements. I had said that I was going to stop blogging – I didn’t. I said that I was going to slow down to 1 post a month – it didn’t last. I even killed this blog until the reason for killing this blog itself died in a car accident. So bear that in mind when I say I’m going to stop blogging (or slow down).

I think that a great impetus for my blogging started when I was in the uni, and discovering a lot of knowledge – well, the bookish kind – when I was studying there. And I was in the middle of what I recognise to be a 10 year love affair with books. And even then I knew that this was a temporary love affair even though I found myself buying many more books than could have been finished in 10 years. Well that’s that, I suppose. I had built a cocoon around myself, but I need to get out.

Something struck me, in my first year in the uni. I said to my Maths professor, rather rashly, “Mathematics doesn’t really teach you anything, does it?” And it was a bit impudent of me because he was famous enough to be mentioned in James Gleick's "Chaos". And the conversation went right ahead because luckily he didn’t really understand me.

But what I meant was that mathematical knowledge is not empirical knowledge. It teaches you how to analyse things, how to properly understand things that you already know. But it doesn’t teach you how to see things.

Well, I don’t know if I’m making a logical leap here. But I do draw boundaries. No matter how much of a brash loudmouth I have appeared to be on these pages, I don’t really blog about my personal life. And talking about bookish knowledge is something that really fits that. But as reality creeps in, I’m beginning to find myself distanced from the world of books that I used to inhabit.

And whereas I thought that I was being quite a “realist” because I read non-fiction and not fiction, I’m beginning to wonder if the difference is specious. I think I read pseudo non-fiction. Recall that non-fiction is a book which is supposedly based on fact, not an invented story. But if you were to read a lot of esoteric knowledge that’s not really related to your life, and if you’re only reading it for general knowledge, or maybe one day you can learn some lessons from it, it’s not really non-fiction, is it? It’s more like historical fiction.

Anyway, I’ve been blogging since 2003. I’ve kept a journal for an even longer time, maybe since 1999. I just feel like I got to engage with the real world a little more. And since I’m not really going to blog about the “real world” here, there’re going to be fewer updates.

It’s been great having you guys around. Or maybe a few of you are no longer around. I’m not going to disguise the fact that I blog mainly for myself, but it’s been great having readers around for so long. I never expect them to stay forever. It’s too easy to get tired of a blog but it’s great to have you guys around.

Home Sweet Home

It’s strange to get your old name back. I liked this name, and the new name I used in the interim was a compromise. Even though I don’t listen to Andrew Hill that much. (RIP Andrew Hill - he died while I was over at the other blog) Calling myself numbernine was hardly… well, it wasn’t really something I identified with. Then again, as much as I felt that Andrew Hill’s music was “my music” now the feeling is less when I hear it. I think we all move on.

It was a few years ago when I closed this blog and unpublished all the entries. (Except for the one left behind.) I can’t help but to compare the person I was then and the person I was now. I was in a rut. It felt alright back then but now I can clearly see that I was in a rut. I wasn’t sick of the things I was doing back then but I am sick of them now.

Since then I’ve had some good times (the US trip, the marathon, wrote some good music) and some disappointing ones. If I can’t bear to say that I’ve had some bad times, then life must indeed be good. But I’m still in a rut, just less of a rut than it was back then. I’ve grown, I’ve matured. I wouldn’t recognise some of the things that I was like back then. I save my blog entries, of course. And if I were to read them, I’d find somebody who’s interested in different things from what I got right now.

Times are moving on, and I’ve had cause to close the lid on relationships with 2 people I hardly know but who have affected my life in very strange ways. First there is –ben (RIP). And there is water girl. Good riddance to both of you, I have 2 fewer reasons to feel bad about myself. I'm not glad that -ben is dead but I'm more than glad to have my blog back. And to Nat, who by 2 incredible coincidences, was strategically placed to make the connections for me, thank you. (I know you did nothing, so thank you for nothing.) And a few regrets about the relationships – I see that I could conceivably have been friends with those 2 if I had done things differently. But not a big loss.

I've toyed with the idea of making life miserable for water girl (not that hard since she lives in my block) but the other night, I had a dream, where I was sitting down with her, and she was asking all sorts of questions about life and we were discussing this in a completely platonic way. Then I suppose, this is the situation. She's just dumb and confused. She doesn't have a boyfriend. Anybody who looks as hot as she is and can't hold on to a proper boyfriend is a bit of a loser. Judging from the way she rejected my advances, we can safely conclude that she's a bad judge of character. She should be given a helping hand. Maybe a leg up. Maybe I can get her leg up. Whatever.

I’ve gotten better at my work. I’ve opened some horizons. I have indulged myself in some ways and just as well – you should live out some of your bad habits long enough to fully understand that they are bad habits. Disillusion yourself a little. I’ve gotten rid of some bad habits – at least they have become less manageable. But I’ve closed some other horizons at the same time. I’ve lost touch with some friends (not many because I never had that many at the same time.)

There was a blogging scene, and it has split up. 2006 was an election year, and a lot of blogs talked about the election. But after all that fire, it wasn’t sustainable. I don’t read blogs as much as I used to.

And the distressing thing is that I was searching for a new life back then, and in a way I still am. More significant than the progress that was made was the progress that was not made. The old sieteocho was living his life in the 20s, and was OK with being cheerfully irresponsible while doing so. But it’s less OK when you grow older. When you grow older, you’re supposed to develop a broader set of shoulders so that you can bear more weight, weight that would have crushed a mere child.

When you grow old, it always gets harder, because in life there is a tendency to do all the easy stuff first. The really difficult things to master take time, and possibly you will never master them ever. But you can always try. You can always try until the day you die.