Filthy Rich

I finally understood what this phrase meant: filthy rich. I say so not from experience or a sudden change of luck. I understood from observation, from realisation. Not everything has to be understood by experience. Some things are more clearly explained through the art of observation. The rich become the rich by getting their hands dirty. Hands being a metaphor being everything they are to everything they believe in: their morals, the goals, their dreams, their beliefs, and most importantly, their pride. You’d think the rich pride themselves in being so rich and trust me, they do. I have seen them, I have observed them. But if you dig deeper in their pride, if you look at the source of their riches, you’ll find that they will most likely not be proud of what they have done to accumulate such wealth. No one gets rich by helping others help. That is not to say all rich people are bad. The rich has the ability to help the poor (if they choose to) but you’ll rarely find someone rich whose wealth was founded upon helping those in need. 

So where am I going with this? I once asked a closed relative of mine, “Which job will earn the greatest amount of money?”

Everybody dreams about being rich but we all have different reasons. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to be rich but the truth is, I only want to be rich so I don’t have to think about money. I want to live comfortable enough that money is never a worry of mine. But if you ask me whether I want to be the richest of the richest, I probably couldn’t care less. 

Others want to be rich for different reasons. Rich brings many associative traits. The most common ones are power, fame, and luxury. 

I guess my reason fits under independence and luxury. Two things I’ve never really had in life. 

But would I damage my morals to reach these goals? That is, would I be willing to get my hands dirty? 

To be completely honest, I’m not quite so sure myself. I see how easy it is to make dirty money and it tempts me. I guess the devil would not have survived so long if it did not know how to tempt. And then I would tell myself that it is not worth ruining the morals I have upheld for so many decades. But being rich, even filthy rich is surely tempting…. 

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Bad habits are hard to quit

There are many things I wish I was better at. I can’t say I haven’t tried but I also can’t say I’ve tried very hard. 

As human beings, it is in our nature to resort to the things that are easy and simple. It goes against our nature to exert effort to work for something. And usually that only happens if the rewards outweigh the work efforts. No one works for free. Even volunteers are gaining the experience or the title of selflessness. 

What inspired me to make this post is the process of checking my emails. I found that the most dangerous habit I have become accustomed to is to mark emails I have opened as “unread” to deal with it at a later stage but in this day and age, our inbox are so frequently visited by mail that the old ones are drowned in masses of junk and we tend to forget what’s not there. 

So instead of leaving the decision making for the future, decide upon it now. Because when you do things in the future it is thrown into your past which is why bad habits are hard to quit because good habits are thrown in between the time zones of the future and the past and miss the opportunity to exist in the present. 

So I will leave this post with one final note, “All good things require sacrifice” because you have to sacrifice time in the present to change your way of living. 

Leave me a comment on “What you are willing to sacrifice your present time for?

The path to no where

That’s what it feels like doesn’t it? The future, I mean. A path unknown like a path to no where but every step we take is somewhere and every step into somewhere is a step into the future.

And just like the future, I have no idea where this post is going. I don’t have an excuse or an explanation to describe why I stopped writing for two years (well, almost two years). I guessed I got shy to expose so many of my secrets online (even though it may be anonymous). I don’t know why I started writing again. I thought I stopped because I found happiness. And maybe because this blog contains the scars I could not carry so I couldn’t bring myself to be exposed to it again. 

I don’t know who reads these posts and I don’t know why but I’m going to keep writing anyway because that’s what I feel like doing in the present. I’m too tired to remember the burden of the past and I’m too nervous to focus on the mysteries of the future so I’ll just appreciate what is happening now. 

And right now, my family is playing a card game while I’m sitting in the dining room writing. I should probably join them onto the path to no where. 

A Chain of Events

An estranged whimper escapes my tongue,
A street of strangers stares me down,
Some politely offer help,
I reject and deny again.
I appreciate your kindness but it could not accommodate me.
I run towards the only peace I know,
The bells sing an hour has gone.
I race up to the helping hands,
Only to be chased away by ants.
Next came the statue of peace,
Where dead soldier lies with liberty.
I can only think back to the time,
Where my friend and I sat discussing life.
Now I am here all alone,
Discussing life on my own.
An old man walks by twice,
Maybe the third time he would ask me why?
It turns my weak bladder control,
Sent me sprinting for toilet rolls.
A half hour left until it close,
A half hour for somewhere to go.

When seven came,
I went back home.
Scared and frightened,
More than before.

When nine came,
I walk in the dark,
An hour long,
All sixty minutes of luck.

When midnight came,
I wrote this down.
Hoping someday possibly one day,
I will never have to count.

Losing Self Control

The things we desired the most,
Are those that should be locked or closed.
The small accumulation of an obsession,
Can make us deny all logical reason.
It is true we can sell our soul,
For a moment of the euphoria ghost.
We lose track of day and season,
Reality is a long reach from our emotion.
Such is that of a careless addiction,
That can spiral beyond our control.
Once we make that initial decision,
We are committed to a lifelong treason.
The bad habits we make use of doing,
Becomes our own hell and undoing.
We create our own prison cell,
When we lose control of ourselves.
We convince ourselves it can be stop at anytime,
Tomorrow tomorrow we will abide.
We become the master of deception,
Associate our weakness with confusion.
The bag of lies we tell others,
Strips away our saviours.
Slowly and slowly we begin to lose sanity,
Until we cannot stop living in fantasy.
The guilt and shame eventually fades,
We are so consumed by what we cannot change.

The key to life is dramatically simple,
So why is it so unattainable?

A Grandmother’s Charm

My grandmother,
Probably doesn’t recognise me,
Yet this grandmother if mine,
Loves me very dearly.
My grandmother,
Once upon a time,
Would gaze at the sky above,
And count the stars of the night.
My grandmother,
Gave me another charm,
Maybe it’s a sign,
To have another chance.
My grandmother,
She’s ageing faster than light,
Her body is waning,
I wish I could stop this crime.
My grandmother,
Has never asked for much,
She didn’t deserve this,
I’m sorry for losing touch.

Dear grandmother,
Mother says I’m just like you,
Her harsh tone is a clear insult,
But I really hope I do.
Dear grandmother,
I will value and cherish life,
I will fight my way for freedom,
I will take back my rights.

-FuturePresentsPast