I’ve just come to the realisation that I’m coming to love Waterland because there is something MAJOR about the book that I can obviously relate to
it is so obvious, I have no idea why I didn’t see it earlier.
it’s about how Tom Crick tries to make sense of his
confusion quagmire and find meaning in the midst of everything.
the deliberate insertion of ellipses… the self-conscious inclusion of parentheses (realise I use them quite a bit too?)
I understand it now.
it’s when one realises that what he thought he knew, he actually doesn’t know so well.
it’s something you see no point in continuing because the consequence of the sentence is so blatantly obvious.
it’s a struggle between what one thinks he should be saying, what he wants to believe, and what he really wants to express, the feelings that interject one’s supposed “right’ flow thoughts.
and sometimes, it’s just the poignant effect that trails behind the sentence.
ever since a few months ago, I’ve come to remember the immense catharsis I achieve in writing
it feels so good. it’s a pity I neglected you, writing, for so many years.
so many people are better writers than me (and yes I really really really REALLY
envy admire them) but it really doesn’t matter because I just want to…write.
Storytelling. Story-telling. The stories we speak of are telling – or so we desire for them to be.
having a striking or revealing effect; significant
everything comes with a cry for significance, doesn’t it?
we all crave for success – or so we think we do
but have you ever wondered why the ladder to success never seems to have a destination that can be distinctly pin-pointed?
maybe, just maybe, it’s because our craving wasn’t for success in the first place. maybe it’s just an artificial construct that society has established because so many just didn’t know how to quell the inundation of dissatisfaction inside of them (think about how Ernest Atkinson first realises this and ends the legacy of the success of his ancestors in attempt to redeem the purposeless of the pursuit of it in itself).
that’s why there is a need for coping mechanisms, isn’t it? because we need to find a channel that can give us purpose, or at least, (temporarily) blot out the gaping void that is desperately longing to be filled.
writing, story-telling – I cannot deny that it is a powerful one.
but we all realise (and so does Waterland) that at the end of the day, humans are human and we are incapable of redeeming ourselves (Ernest dies. Dick dies. The stolen baby is returned).
and, that’s why I have faith in Someone bigger than myself.