Two Ends of A Same Stick


Looking back at my previous post, one realise that two enterprises of mine were mentioned but only one was elaborated on.Poetry performance aside, the other is freelance journalism. To put it more concisely, you can call it amateur freelance journalism, the very very amateur type. Yours truly is just like a babe learning how to walk. Stumbles and falls included.

I am now writing for Funkygrad.com, an online student portal that caters to more than 100,000 tertiary students in Singapore, Australia and New Zealand. Feel free to go there and roam around if you like and leave whatever comments you have here if you please.

I know what you are going to do but don’t go looking for the alias aristocrat. What will those students, who are of malleable minds, think when I write under that pseudonym? A human still stuck in the past ages? An anti-democratic entity? One has no wish to undergo all that again. Yes my dear reader. I have taken flak for this pseudonym before. All one wish for is the growth of the Arts again. The dawn of another Age.

But I digress.

As I was saying, I took up this opportunity for self-improvement. And now I find myself stretched in ways that I have never been before. Dead ends everywhere and to say the least, it is quite demoralising.

Why so pessimistic? you say.

Ok I take back “demoralising”. It probably is too strong a word. But this stretch experience is forcing me to step out of my safety zone, which in a perverted sense, is good.

The Poet’s soul is scarred by such encounters with the Dragon. The Poet has never been a Knight and never will be I guess. He doesn’t wield a sword screaming bloody murder. He doesn’t wear a trench coat a la The Highlander.

In place of the sword he wields a pen. In place of a trench coat he let his words wrap around him and speak for themselves. No need for appearances.

The Knight is everything but the Poet is everything that the Knight is not. The Poet is Nothing. But Nothing excels at being Nothing instead of just Everything being mediocre at Something.

And that is what I have realised. A poet cannot be a journalist, for they are two extremes of the same stick. Both of them manipulate the same medium but for different purposes. The Poet is free to write what he wishes but a journalist has a dragon to contend with. Such limitations bound me but I shall endeavour to find my way around it. And be a Poet at the same time.

Yours truly,
Aristocrat

(Extremely long)Postscript: My dear readers, if you have taken a liking to my ramblings (how that is possible I dare not venture to guess), please do cast a vote in my favour if you have not done so. Yours truly has been nominated for the Most Creative Weblog in NUS (For details on it, click HERE. Though on hindsight, it troubles me a little to be heading mainstream, I am advised that it is all in the name of fun. So I shall let sleeping dogs lie.

To cast a vote in favour, there are but three steps:
1.Create an account at Livewire (an NUS Arts Faculty portal)
2. Login
HERE (the password is usually sent instantly. Check your Junk mail folder if you have not received it)
3. Proceed to vote at
Blogfest Polls

For those who have taken the trouble to vote, my gratitude goes out to you.

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6 thoughts on “Two Ends of A Same Stick

  1. Ah… thanks for the compliment. You do have a nice blog too. And I see you have a thing for poetry.

    I want to vote for you, but for some bizarre quirk, I can’t vote for the Most Creative and Funniest categories. *puzzled*

  2. Well, I give them where they are due. Like Al’s blog too haha. Freaking hilarious with all his profanities.

    Yeah, I have the hots for poetry hahaha. It is probably a glitch?

  3. I love poetry too! But alas, my talents are nowhere near where you are, Knight of the Mighty Pen.

    You are definitely not Nothing, and even if you are, you would be one that excels at SOMETHING, not Nothing. If you have travelled thus far, please, give yourself some credit.

    Yes, poets we may be – our pens dancing free across pages starking white. But as long as the power of the words lies within the depths of our soul, they shall no fail you.

    Different forms of expression they may be, but poetry and journalism are akin to butter and cheese – different in form and taste – but created from the very same source. And that very essence from the source have been further enhanced to create more remarkable things.

    Thus my dearest aristocrat, noble as you might be. Look beyond your limitations and uncover the wisdom that’s simmering beneath your soul.

    You have it in you. All you gotta do is tap into that rare resource, and let the words flow to where you wanna go.

    With inate talent and an attainable goal, as the adidas dudes go – “Impossible Is Nothing.” 🙂

  4. Woah, you are praising me to the high heavens la hahaaa. Actually being Nothing is good. Not the literal Nothing, but the Nothing where it can adapt to Everything, the negative capability that John Keats talks about.

    Tsk, you make me embarrassed at times, Elvina. *face flushed red* Now I have to live up to your high standards hahah…–>

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