Life has been rather strange lately — I can’t quite muster the appropriate words to describe it. The intangibility of my current state of mind is unfathomable, but I shall try my best to elucidate it.

What I’ve thus realized from my old personality is that I tended to shift between extremes. One minute, I would care too much to the point of profusion and the next minute, I would feel beyond irascible or apathetic. This affected multiple aspects of my life:
When dealing with people — If you caught me on a “good” day, I would readily give you my right arm, whereas if you caught me on a “bad” day… Well, then let’s hope you have exceptional health insurance or a heart of teflon.
With regard to activities — I either found a field of work that (metaphorically) “took over my life” or became the notorious couch potato embracing a tub of ice cream.
In reference to academia — Consecutive days of procastination and nights of no sleep were numerous.

I seemed to be incapable of finding balance, or in a scientific sense, equilibrium.

For the longest time, I thought that that is perfectly normal and acceptable, but in retrospect, I never want to return to such a life again. The elusive question that, for the life of me, I am unable to answer remains, though — How or why had I handled situations in that manner? Usually, when resolving complicated issues, people delve into their past in an au courant attempt to uncover any significant disturbances.

1) Whilst carrying my stroller and me, my grandfather slipped on a stairstep, sending both my stroller and me tumbling down the stairs headfirst.
2) As curious as ever, I managed to unlock my own cradle hatch and fell to the wooden flooring headfirst.
3) During an ice-skating party, my friend Joseph swung me around and let go; I landed on the ice… headfirst.

Do I see a trend? Perhaps having been dropped on my head multiple times is a factor, but I highly doubt my antecedent mental instability was a direct result of the ball-like characteristics of my skull. Alas, maybe I shall never know. However, pondering about my abandoned dispositions left me subconsciously feeling hollow. This is the feeling for which I can’t quite grasp the appropriate terminology. Though I had shed a layer of myself that I loathed, it was still an aspect of me. I felt as though I’d lost a substantial component of myself, as if without that component, I no longer recognized myself. An internal debate thus transpired as to whether those characteristics should be recouped or kept in the wastebasket until the sanitation engineer comes to collect it.

Although the obvious answer would be the latter, I cannot deny that I still hold slight attachments to my comfort zone. Forsaking those components of myself would require a considerable amount of conscious effort. And albeit I’m already half-way to triumph, the remaining moiety will be that much harder if I allow my retrograde idiosyncrasies to tempt me.

Excursus.

Some time ago, I came across a dessert called “Pavlova” on Australia’s Next Top Model (Shhh! Guilty pleasure!), and being the curious person that I am who’s up for a new challenge anyday, I decided to experiment. Pictures can be accessed as follows:

here              here              here

I have only one thing to say about the dessert — It tastes simply heavenly.
Thanks Wendy for separating the eggs!

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