July 19, 2007
Whenever I chance upon a potato, it looks pretty dull. Not just that, ugly as it seems, its exterior is always filled with craters (known as eyes) and scars from its previous falls. That, is a pretty obvious sight for anyone who owns a pair of biological lens. However, when one slices the potato in half, the interior is, without a doubt, smooth and its texture, gentle and fragile. While it may still seem to some that this potato is one of a hypocrite, on the contrary, it doesn't really deserve such immediate judgement. This potato is therefore, gentle in the inside but appears tough on the outside.
Let's take another look at the next object, which we often chance upon. That is the wet cement used for construction purposes. It is a very useful mixture of elements that will one day become a building of facilities and importance. However stylish its future may be, its harsh origin is, unfortunately, taken for granted or almost forgotten by a great deal of human beings. Let us now examine the processes of how cement is made.
First, rocks are gathered from the quarry before they are broken into palm-sized pieces. They are then tranferred to the crusher to be crushed and reduced to the size of gravel.
Next, the gravels are analysed in a plant laboratory, blended into proper proportion, and then ground even finer. This time, heavy wheel-type rollers (which perhaps look like compressors, to me) are used to grind those gravels into powder against a rotating table.
After the grinding process, those fine materials are passed through a series of vertical cyclone chambers heading to the kiln where they are heated with gasses that need an intense heat of about 1870 degree celcius.
When the heat is over, the cement is now cooled and a finish grinding is done before it is stored in the silos, packaged for use in the construction site.
Indeed, such is the story of the insignificant mixture of wild elements, which goes through various treatments in order to become solid, useful and prospective.
I regret to say, that I am the cement and I have a heart of a potato.
Harshness and stresses are inevitable in anyone's life. But as I reflect upon mine, I found myself relating to a cement's fate. It just gets better, but the price to pay is a result of constant crushes, grinding, stirring, heating and cooling. Its original naivity from the place of comfort far away at the quarry, has to be brought up, grounded, crushed, and toiled through the processes of hard lessons to numb its wildness from within. Hope-shattered, heart-broken and disillusioned, this
living life of cement is now getting there but its now scarred, weathered and jaded. There seem to be some gains, but yet some losses along with them.
As I relate my biological heart (not my emotional heart) to an insignificant ready-to-be-eaten potato, it appears to me that their sizes are indeed similar to each other. What a coincidence! Yet, I happened to realise throughout my days as a breathing organism, bad things do happen to us all. And I am not spared either. I hate this fact but I cannot deny it. I cannnot deny that my heart has been broken before (countless of times in fact). I cannot deny that I still hate a handful who have broken my heart or have hurt me some way or another. I cannot deny that I have moved on in my own way and learned the hard way through bitter experiences. And I still cannot deny that despite all the
craters I received and all the scars I do and do not deserve, my heart (emotional heart) is still strong and passionate for what is to come. Besides, the potato's tough-looking exterior reminds me of how others usually view me as - someone who is no-nonsense, arrogant, straightforward and distant. They certainly have not yet examined the way I truly feel, and usually come up with ambiguous judgements.
Yes, the interior of a potato seems to be gentle, smooth and easy to look at. But have you tasted it? Have you smelled it? Have you felt it? Have you even try to draw or paint it? Try to even eat or sleep with it and you'll know what to
expect. It is this simple potato that holds so much stories and so much experiences of its nurturing growth. Yet, it is what it is. And hence, I am who I am.
I long for acceptance. I long for understanding. I long for love... the most.
I say this, because I am human. Nevertheless, must I repeat we should never take our humanity for granted?
