A Clean Square One

Microsoft’s Windows operating system allows one to restore one’s computer system to an earlier restore point in case part of the hard drive gets corrupted. But one must first identify such a point. It is a good practice as one will never know what could happen to the computer down the line. Of course, now there are countless ways the ensure all - important files, work stuff, digitalised personal documents, precious memories, those precious photos, and clips, own and shared - remain secure no matter how bad one’s computer has been plagued by viruses for their user’s indiscrete online activities. Many of these cannot be reproduced and once gone, are forever gone. Sure, there are cloud storage options one could pay some money for to keep those safe. But what is more convenient, and almost sentimental, than saving them in your own hard drives? So, system restore point it is. This is my first attempt at penning a raw, unadulterated, and unfettered piece in nearly 10 years. What I had written in the past had been truly raw , unadulterated, and unfettered version of all that were in this troubled mind of mine. Some were readable, some were outright cringy. Recently I found myself re-reading them, post after post, paragraph by paragraph, line by line, word by word, and on repeat. The prose was generally flawed, the trains of thought were patchy at best, and the grammar was simply appalling. But they were my very own raw, unadulterated, and unfettered version of all that were in this troubled mind of mine. And as I read and read, it dawned on me that I may have lost it… the ability to write a raw, unadulterated, and unfettered piece. One may think that with the overwhelming darkness reigning upon oneself, one may be inspired to start creatively writing. But there are simply too many of what seemingly the key theme of the subject matter; simply too many timelines, some overlapping; too many roller coasters of emotions, partly due to the pseudo-honest life that one may be living. Or perhaps, it has simply been too long that no one theme seems to be the overriding story. Whatever it is, it sure does not feel like riding a bicycle. Not two days ago, I had a conversation with a lovely soul, dearest to me, with a special place in my heart… or what’s left of it. About starting to pen things down again. We agreed on one thing; that the best and most effective method of bringing out the raw, unadulterated, and unfettered version of our current or past thoughts and emotions, fears and joy, and achievements and disappointments… unfiltered, uncensored, unhampered by familiar, social, or religious boundaries, the no-holds-barred version of all of them… is the good ol’ pen and paper. And not two days ago I was gifted by that very beautiful soul, the very instrument I needed to get me started. You have to see it. It is brilliant. If you think a retractable spoiler on a Ferrari is impressive, you have seen nothing. The instrument is a million times better than those sold in a 7-Elevens that I was going to get that morning…. but I digress. Now, I need an empty journal, a blank canvas if I may, that is worthy of this brilliant new instrument, to really get going. So, until I find a worthy blank journal, this will do. So here is my first attempt to identify an earlier restore point within the system of this troubled mind of mine, my first attempt to pen yet another raw, unadulterated, and unfettered version of all that is going, my first attempt of coming out if this Plato’s cave and back out there and say, “This is me. This may not be the me that all ones that mattered once knew nor this is the changed me. This is simply… me.” What I am attempting here is to articulate a journey through this long-abandoned mind palace. A place where I must find a system restore point that meets most, if not all, criteria to draw me a clean square-one. The mind has been taking in things without due process. Pieces of causes and effects have not been labelled and paired accordingly since early 2012 due to a sudden (forced) change in personality; the way of life as I knew it vanished into the horizon in the rear-view mirror and I did not see it coming (or going). Actions and reactions have not been rightly matched since 2013 for the continuous, and largely unnecessary, impromptu firefighting had rendered the process of giving a reciprocal reaction to an action, any action, dysfunctional. A pile of consequences in the far corner of the court jester’s quarters has not been reviewed and addressed since 1999 for not a single page had been turned without having fully closed the previous chapters. This place is a complete quagmire, a hoard of unaddressed feelings, unattended emotions, ignored warning signs, all guarded by an egotistical monster of a swiss guard. So, where do I begin??? Fuck…. To be continued…