Cataclysmically Clustercaustic
Of Snowglobes & Small Settlements



Heh admittdly this isn't a picture of mine, but I couldn't help but use it here. It's really an amazing piece, seeing in how everytime you look at it you draw out a different emotion. When I first chanced upon this little wonder, I also happened to notice numerous posts about how cute it looked, and I readily agreed. It brings to mind snowglobes and lego houses, towns and worlds that mimic our very own, except in miniature form, and with hefty pricetags. The thing about holding a world mimicking yours in the palm of your hand is how awe-filled (no, not awe-ful ho ho) you become. "So this it what our world would look like from a God-eyed view. Except maybe a whole lot less lifelike." Snowglobes and their worlds within our world fill us with mindfunk, and the ability to make it snow in their world in the middle of our heat-strikenly, globally warmed and equatorially challenged Singaporean summer is really nothing to be scoffed at. Who can't like snowglobes when you look at it that way?

But that's just one thing the picture brings to mind.

Strangely enough, the very picture that instills awe and wonder, also happens to impart some really negative micro-waves of emotion to the viewer. The viewer picks up these contrasting emotions like how a man would a five cent coin on the road; his hope rising from what appears to be promises of gold, or possibly even a whole dollar (whoa!), but what turns out to be merely disappointment. Though some may find that five cent find a stroke of obscenely good luck, at this point of time I really feel like being negative, so I'll stick that whole false hopes idea.

But I digress! That was one really extended analogy, but at least that's over. Now back to the picture. Recently when I looked at it, I began to wonder something other than the usual wonder. Sure, snowglobes and cute little village-town-planet things look cute and all, but there's something really disturbing about it all. Snowglobes encase little worlds within them, which people view and enjoy everyday, and even write extensive blog posts on. Yet, the beef with snowglobes is exactly that - they encase stuff. The glass wall that seems to preserve this little world is exactly the same glass wall that prohibits it. Ever seen the show Lonely Planet? Well, I haven't (though I'm quite sure it isn't about solitary planets being sore about their solitude), but I must say this is exactly what comes to mind. A world trying to find it's place in our world, and being unable to because the inhabitants of the world we live in insist on keeping these little worlds stuck in little glass globes, and sitting on our display cases of houses.

At this point of time, I must apologise for going all philosophical and serving up plates of Plato, or whatever other famous philosopher you care to name, but I'm in a really ranty mood today.

The tree in the picture pokes its head out of the forest of houses that surround it, and while drawing all the attention of the viewer to it, still seems to scream a sense of detachment. The little floating planet's surrounded with houses of every detail, but the irony of it all lies in how the barren tree, which one would normally pass over, seems to clash with the buildings of that world, yet also holds the entire composition of the picture together.

Yeah, detachment. Lately my head's been one massive mess, and I'm just... floating along. I can't seem to put any order to anything, and the I'm walking around in a daze. Stuff happen, and stuff don't. Stuff, stuff, and more stuff. It's great just shelving stuff when you can't put any sense to anything, just like how someone's messy room would look like. I think my brain and conciousness kind of decided that school holidays extended to them too, and ended up taking self-proclaimed leave. They're probably somewhere in Europe now even as you read this ramble. Maybe I should get down to doing some school work. That always helps pin stuff down. Afterall, what are we if we don't have work? Savages.

A really poor reference there signals that I should stop and spare you the misery of reading further. It's a rare occasion that aimless and floaty posts like these surface from the murky depths of this writing space, and I can assure you I'll try to keep these to a minimum. I guess writing crap down does help get some order going, and maybe soon enough the snowglobes can get off the floor in their ruddy mess and at least onto the shelves, looking pleasant and just like little worlds worth marvelling at, and start filling me with awe once again.

viewed from here,
2'2"