The blog's under construction now.
Things might look really ugly, so ugly that you'll want to ball your eyes out.
So read at your own risk.
Announcement Box

Hey there, thanks for visiting. The construction work for the blog has just finished except for one thing and that's the lounge section, as always. (For some reason, it's always incomplete)
For old viewers, here are what I've did to my blog, in case you didn't notice:
- removed Archive page cause it's high maintenance
- changed the gallery to an Instagram feed
- installed FontAwesome
- created a Music Player for the lounge, no longer do you need to look at millions of play buttons, just click and play
- newly written About page
- header image can now be changed but only for Home and inside of posts, toggle it away with the up arrow if you need to
- added different header images for all other pages
Have fun reading about me whining. ;)

Japorized

May 23, 2014

Artificial Intelligence

I wonder how it is to really feel... for the waves to wash up your feet, for the wind to caress your cheeks, for the rain to hit on your head... I have tried all of them. I felt something, but it was never like how it was described to me. It is true, how calm and powerful are the waves that washes onto my feet, how gentle and caring is the wind as it blows on my face, how lonely and melancholic as feel the rain falling on my head. But the most important things are still indescribable for me. There has always a hidden meaning, one that is much more greater, a message that is much more wise behind these little happenings. I feel like talking to them, to know what it is, to grasp what they mean. But I am never good at it. I simply do not talk. All that I can do is barely make a clever reply to any conversation that I am thrown at. I talk big, but I am barely and merely an artificial intelligence, caged from pursuing something that I see as bigger, hushed from telling what I truly think is right. All that I try to compile, even though all by myself, silently, denied.

All the time, I have a feeling, that I have been talking big. I have always given seemingly smart answers to things, apparent perfect solution to another's problem. But have I really put myself in their shoes? Even if I do, am I feeling it right? Am I seeing it as they are seeing it? Like for loosing someone important, like the passing of a family member. I have lost mine too, but am I feeling like how I should have felt? I do not know at all. To be honest, I barely felt anything. I did not feel sad, or happy, or angry, or frustrated, or helpless, or shocked, or... any of those feelings that any person should at least have, even by a tiny speckle. Nothing was there.

But then, I experienced all of it, and all of it of different degrees, over something that barely existed. All those moments, I would have to define them as a somewhat crazy yet nonexistent dreams. It is not that I deny their existence, but they were, truly, barely there. They were all but made up, artificial, a reality that I constructed all by myself, a dream that I dreamt.

And then I continued talking big, continued talking about how life should be, continued talking about how people should think. But do I truly know how life should be myself? Do I truly know how people should think in different circumstances? Will I think exactly like them if I am in their shoes? I have barely lived for two decades, and nearly a quarter of these years were years that I hardly have memory of. I do not want to think if anyone will want to listen to someone who have only lived for such a short time. Who would be convinced? Who would think that I am trying to make them see something bigger?

"You are just a child."

That is what I have heard for a long time in my life. I do not deny that I am a child. But is a child's mind really that unconvincing, unintelligent and immature? Is it always?

"You don't understand, and you never will."

Who cares if I don't? And who cares if you do? Just take the goddamn advice or leave it as you please.

All these rambling, I sound pretty conceited, do I not? I may have always been wrong, though, as conceited as anything above this have sounded. After all, I am barely another machine that is trying to trick itself that he is human, as he possesses that artificial intelligence, which feels so much human, but at the same time, it is not.

So, once again, how is it like to feel the waves washing up your feet, to feel the wind caressing your cheeks, to feel the rain tapping on your head?