Caught in a Chase

Has anyone you know ever been "sheeped"?

I tried to look up the meaning of the word in the Internet, and this is what I got:

1. To send email from another user's account, notifying the world that this person has broken computer security policy by walking away from their computer and left it unlocked.
2. Usually used in the game World Of Warcraft.
3. A take on the phrase "Pulling the wool over his/her eyes", meaning that you might as well have a whole sheep because you are lying or bluffing so much.

...And a whole lot of crap. But nothing really came close to what I had in mind when I was reading Murakami's "A Wild Sheep Chase". And after reading it, these weird images start creeping inside my mind. For one, I came close to the point when I'm starting to question my own sanity. Like I've been quite unhinged for a while. And who wouldn't? It's like your whole world was plunged into chaos and no matter what you do, you can't rub the feeling off. And I never wanted to admit I'm living a mediocre life after all. But after reading this, well...maybe I am. So I'm desperate to get into the chase for this sheep.

So, in my own words, I pluck out a meaning for the word.
sheeped: (adj) to be in a state of total mental mayhem, that of being sheep-like (like when you suddenly felt the urge to buy a woolen sweater)

OK, enough of this crap.

"A Wild Sheep Chase"is a mock-detective novel where names are of zero importance. Not a single character in the story had a name. Except for Kipper, the cat. They do have names of course, only they weren't actually identified in the book. So this guy is practically living a very normal life, or to borrow words from the book, a very "mediocre existence". He runs his own advertising company with a colleague, and then a few years later he and his wife got divorced. Then he meets a girl who's got seductive ears that, as he says, improves sex a thousand times.

But one day, he and his girlfriend get caught up in this serious business of one called "the Boss", a powerful right-wing politico, all because of a photograph of a sheep his friend "the Rat" gave him. Then he meets a weirdo in a sheep outfit who talks without pausing. Apparently, the sheep is no ordinary one; it's a lot bigger than the common breed, with a white face and a star-shaped mark on its behind (see book cover). This sheep was said to be the one that entered Genghis Khan, and to be made a host for this sheep means an unparalleled honor. Or so they say. So the sheep enters your body and he finds a healthy pasture inside you. Then you suddenly possess power beyond anything else. But when the sheep leaves your body, you'll be one useless, disgusting heap of garbage.

It's basically a tale of possession; a person becomes possessed by the sheep and he attains power beyond anyone's grasp. The sheep feeds on this "power" and you become its tool; when the sheep is inside you, you lose all hold on yourself. Simple: the sheep gives you power and then you give yourself to it in return.

I say this is one of Murakami's best. The profound, complex plot compensates with the simplicity of the characters. And you can even read it on the train! Easy-peasy! The suspense builds up fast, too, and you'll find yourself gripped by the chilling, eerie atmosphere at the end of the story. What should I say, the ending's spectacular! I was particularly struck by the ingenuity of the "sheep chase", with twists and turns you'd never really expect. In the end, I was actually "sheeped".

Turns out, I couldn't get over it. Maybe I should get myself some woolen sweater after all.

The Solution

How often do I have to convince myself that taking my own life won't make me feel any better? Come on, think back on those days when you've reveled so much in your life you almost forgot that shit's happening. Recall those books you've read, the life-changing stories that moved you and made you swear never to hate your life again. Remember those valuable pieces of advice that you thought meaningless but later proved to be the only salvation in your otherwise painful existence. Try to enumerate the names of the people who'd be devastated once you've crossed that line.

Or simply, just think about what you'll be leaving behind. Stuff. More and more stuff. Stuff you actually never thought you can't live without. Stuff that mean so much to you. Think, think, think.

Thing is, I just think this is pointless, to force myself into believing that these things make sense. They just don't.

Ode to the Girl on Fire (and the symbolic end of a craze)

"I no longer feel any allegiance to these monsters called human beings, despise being one myself… Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences." - Katniss Everdeen, Mockingjay

I know, right. It’s not easy being a kid in a world like our own. Even if it doesn’t exactly mirror the condition of which Panem citizens, particularly the district people, are living in. For all we know, circumstances may lead to it, and, being the barbarians that we are, it wouldn’t be much too long before someone realizes that people need to be coerced. And the people who possess the power will only have their greed, their insatiability, their self-indulgence overcome whatever sanity and reason that’s left in their tiny, money-driven heads. Much, much too soon. And the children are the ones who will have to suffer the consequences.

This is the reality the Hunger Games trilogy wanted us to see.

However, I’m not going to tell you what exactly happened in Mockingjay since a lot of the fans out there aren’t done reading the book yet, and I don’t wanna be chastised, or worse, be skinned alive for spoiling the suspense. Let me just tell you how I, for that matter, relate to the story.

OK so right now I’m coping with Mockingjay withdrawal symptoms, and I’m really having a hard time trying to concentrate on something that would take my mind off it. The thing is, this has always been a problem, me getting so attached to a novel and finding it really hard to move on after I’ve finished reading. I’m thrown into the same scenario all the time: Three days to read the book and a week or two to mull over it. Days of deprivation and half-hearted responses to the friends and workmates who engage me in conversation. Several moments of being caught lost in thought, trying to put words to that weird feeling of abandonment consuming me.

You might think I’m overreacting. Yeah well, I wish I am. I remember as if it was just yesterday how I cried really hard after finishing the last Harry Potter book. I mean, come on, I started reading Harry Potter since I was 12 and had been truly devoted to the series ever since. I practically grew up with Harry; he was my own paper-and-pen twin brother. So when the series finally came to an end, the sadness was just so overwhelming. I felt empty and useless and miserable. It’s like the end of the world for me, you know, that feeling of not having anything to look forward to anymore. And how you’d feel alone during the wee hours of the morning because there is no 600-page novel to keep you company and to spend all your sleepless nights with. Yep, painful.

It’s basically just the same with Mockingjay, though I started reading Hunger Games just over a year ago. I wasn’t a fan of dystopian literature because I used to have this general impression that dystopian novels are the easiest to write since you can put in virtually anything you want—from flying bulldozers, hybrid animals to tie-dyed human beings—and get away with it just like that. Readers would get mystified and wouldn’t care much about the story anymore. But the Hunger Games trilogy is an exception. For me it’s not just a dystopian novel but a mirror image of what the world could possibly look like in the not-so-distant future. Katniss Everdeen is likewise the very reflection of myself—a girl who was thrown mercilessly into the world and subjected to the harsh tests of life.

I used to be a Katniss Everdeen in my own little world, battling endlessly with all the shit life was throwing at me. At a very early age, I learned that life can be cruel and I had no choice but to suck it up. So much for the drama. What I’m trying to say is that now I’m done with Mockingjay, I feel more alone than ever. I just lost a paper-and-pen twin sister who’s just survived a bloody war in her world.

Now I’m left to deal with my own misery. And the bigger games are just about to begin.

Before the Beginning by Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us as we are made,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words, the numinous words,
we hear before we begin:

You, called forth by your senses
reach to the edge of your longing.
Become my body
grow like a fire behind things
so their shadows spread
and cover me completely

Let everything into you;
beauty and terror.
Keep going, remember
no feeling lasts forever

Don’t lose touch with me.
Nearby is the land they call life,
you will know it by its intensity.

Give me your hand.

The Venom

Anger as soon as fed is dead –
‘Tis starving makes it fat.
- Emily Dickinson


On some days, I could really be such a hardheaded bitch. But I realized it would be extremely difficult not to be. There are just some instances when you totally have no choice but to let the venom out. Or else it’ll turn on you. And when you finally let it all out, the feeling of relief is just so overwhelming you could almost touch it.

Talking about anger, I would have to admit that I’ve always been manipulated by my own temper. But I do find a proper outlet, a suitable conduit so I wouldn’t end up throwing an F to random strangers on the street. Sometimes when I feel my temper slowly rising on the surface, I get my guitar and strum a happy tune. Or I’d flip open a book. Or I’d switch my laptop on and write to my heart’s content.

But I could say I was never at ease with the anger phase. Despite the intensity of the feeling, I keep my old self anchored at the base, just to stop myself from blowing things out of proportion. So even when a “stray bullet” (a codename for the malicious words I often get from a certain someone at work) comes speeding my way, I could recover easily from the attack. Or if I’m lucky enough, maybe I could dodge it using a well-devised counter-attack (again, IF I’m lucky, which I hardly ever was).

It’s OK to let your anger consume you. Sometimes, it’s the only way you can free yourself from all the shit that’s been burdening you. Just as long as you won’t lose yourself in the process and that you would know how to get back to your old, lovable self again.

Carpe Diem

I rarely have the whole weekend to myself. Most of the time I spend it doing part time work for a small web copywriting business that a friend of mine owns and operates. On some days, I would volunteer to do some household chores (I would always prefer washing the dishes so I could get my fingernails cleaned). At times I would ask my boyfriend to come over and watch a basketball game on TV with me (him enthusiastically reliving every glorified basketball moment he had in his life and me feigning interest) or to just talk about things (if I’m lucky to even get him to talk).

So now, let me just seize this chance.

Yesterday, while I was updating my Facebook account, I had a very interesting conversation with a close friend at work. At first it was the usual humorous banter we often had, until it got a bit serious. He asked me how I was and I was all “I’m not sure but I could do with some piece of advice.” I remember telling him days ago—while I was all drunk and pooped after a drinking session with my colleagues at work—about how I couldn’t seem to have the time to do the things I used to do and actually enjoy them. Was I being too hard on myself, staying up until one in the morning doing part time work that would only get me as far as a few dollars and then waking up at 6am to prepare for my regular 9-to-5 job? Am I missing a lot in life now, having been held prison by my own noble virtues, slaving away with the responsibilities that are just too big for me to handle?

To that he said “Life is a matter of choice”, which, in my twisted mind, would most definitely translate to, if you choose to be this way then suck it up. I know, but it makes so much sense. He said I should stop stressing myself with so many things. And maybe I should stop rushing through life like a maniac an start to take it easy. Why not seize every moment of happiness and enjoy it? Life is too short to burden yourself with too much stress from work, financial foibles, conflicts, etc. God only gave us 24 hours in a day to make the most out of it. So seize the day. Carpe diem.

I wanted this weekend to be totally different by doing absolutely nothing. I thought it would be good to stop being productive just this once, for a change. Slept through the day, read a book, learned to play a new song in the guitar, ate a full meal, watched TV, laughed hard and prayed. This is how I seize that one-off chance of being totally unburdened and unoccupied with work. This is just how I choose to seize the day. And as the weekend draws to a close, I’m just so glad I can end the day without so much as stealing a glance at the clock.

The Cure For Death

“I’d be struggling with a lot of other long-forgotten things…But all that is just a part of life; and the price you pay for having to deal with those minor problems is far less than the price you pay for not recognizing they’re yours.” – Mari in “Veronika Decides To Die”

When people decide to end their lives, I come to think of two possible reasons: one, they think that their lives have suddenly become meaningless and they get tired of it; two, they think they’ve finally fulfilled their purpose in life and have reached the end of the road (in which case, going on living will only prove pointless). But either way you see it, there seems to be no evident systematic approach as to how you’d know when the right time to die has come. I mean, how would you know if your life has suddenly taken a turn for the worst and there’s no other way out but to end it? How would you know if you’ve finally arrive at that certain point in your life when you can say that all your dreams have been realized and the person you are now is the person you’ve always wanted to be? The thing is, there is only way to find the answers to these questions: you have to live through the rest of your life—living while never having to worry where this life is taking you—and thus, discover up to what extent this life can be relished.

Paulo Coelho’s “Veronika Decides to Die” opens our eyes to the awful truth that sometimes, the only way to appreciate life is through experiencing how it’s like without it. Based on real events on Coelho’s own life, the novel tells the story of 24-year-old Veronika who seems to have everything: loving and supportive parents, youth, beauty, men who adored her, and a fulfilling job. But one day, she decides to die. Overdosing in sleeping pills, she prepares her own deathbed with much passion and enthusiasm for a dying person. But she wakes up and finds herself in a mental hospital (Villete) where she is told that she only has days to live. In Villete, she meets people of varying degrees of insanity, develops a lasting friendship with two women who had touched her life, falls in love with a schizophrenic, and learns to appreciate life each day as she struggles against death.

The characterization was brilliant; Coelho painted exquisite portraits of people who are themselves victims of the nonsensical monotony and conventionality of life, manifesting their revulsion for such through different gestures of madness. There’s Zedka who suffered from depression because of a long-lost beloved she never had the strength to fight for; Mari, a brilliant lawyer who experienced severe panic attacks before she could make the career change she had wanted; Eduard, a diplomat’s son who withdrew to his own make-believe reality to search for a “paradise” that nobody believed existed; Veronika who turned her somewhat “perfect” existence upside-down when she got tired of the seemingly endless cycle of life, never having the chance to go out of her comfort zone; and Dr. Igor who devoted a lifetime in search for the elusive cure to Vitriol, a sensation characterized by bitterness and hatred, which he believed to have caused one’s sudden apathy for life.

Also, the unexpected romance that blossomed between Veronika and Eduard moved me in ways no other love story could ever have done (given that I'm not much of a sucker for love stories). I mean, what could be crazier than two crazy-in-love people who have so much love to give to even be cautious of the risk of “overdoing” it? In a time when people keep to what’s rational and reasonable when it comes to love—conscious that they might go overboard for fear of losing a significant part of themselves—would you even go as far as to ask yourself, “Did you ever love at all?”

The same applies with how people go about their lives today. There are too many rules to follow, too many ditches and stumbling blocks to dodge, too many tasks to accomplish, too many consequences to face that it would feel tremendously pleasant to just leave them all behind and go on living without taking notice of these things. But think of this as—like in the movie “Click”—being in “auto-pilot”. You wake up in the morning, eat, drink, take a shower, dress up, go to work, make some calls, get home and sleep without actually “living” every moment of it. So you wouldn’t really know what “living” means because you haven’t actually experienced it, not even once. And as a consequence, you’d have this terrible nagging feeling that something is amiss. Then you’ll die without having to know what it’s like to live.

But maybe you don’t really need to actually die to appreciate life; perhaps all you’ll really need is to grab a copy of this book and read it to your heart’s content.