Interstellar, Regrets & Mocktails

Spoiler Alert: If you haven't watched the movie yet.

Today, I watched Interstellar again. There’s something about the film that always feels like it reaches into my chest and probes for something deep inside me. It’s like being caught in a vortex of emotions that, for a fleeting moment, leave you grappling with the vastness of space and the fragility of time itself. This time, it struck me even harder. Maybe it's because lately I've been so acutely aware of how time feels like something slipping through my fingers these days. Always too slow in making decisions, always regretting what I didn’t do, and always a casualty of time. Always a step behind, like life is moving forward and I’m watching from a distance, helpless to catch up. I suppose that’s why Interstellar hit so hard today. Its unsettling dance between the infinite and the finite made me reflect on my own life and the moments I’ve let slip by.

Time. It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The way it stretches and bends, sometimes moving so slowly and other times rushing past without warning. Something I couldn't shake after the movie ended. The scene that really got me this time was when Dad Cooper ends up in the fifth dimension. It's where time itself is the physical space, and Cooper is trying to make sense of the very thing that has kept him away from his children for so long.

The fifth dimension scene, where Cooper is in that strange, endless space, is obviously a stunning visualization of the layers of time. The moment he realizes that he's not just looking at physical objects but at moments, memories—fragments of time itself—is so shuddering. It struck me because I’ve often thought about time like that, if it's a thing we could touch or shape. I could feel this need in the scene: Cooper’s desperate need to communicate, to somehow make up for the lost years and choices that were never made. As he frantically tries to send a message through gravity to Daughter Murph, it feels like regret is getting embodied in front of his eyes.

Watching that scene felt like staring at a mirror. How many times have I wished I could go back and change a decision? How many times have I looked at my life and felt like there was something I missed, something I didn’t do or say in time? It’s an overwhelming feeling. The film shows time is not just a linear force—it’s something that can be manipulated, something we can control or be controlled by. Not sure about actuality. But Cooper’s desperate attempt to alter the past mirrors how I often feel. Maybe not in such an extraordinary way, but there are moments when I wish I could turn back time, fix mistakes, or have the courage to seize opportunities I let slip away.

It’s this paradox of time that makes me belly-churningly uncomfortable that forces me to rethink: How much of the past can we change? How much control do we have over our own time, and when do we have to let go of the regrets that haunt us? Especially when it comes to human relationships? And, love? Cooper’s love for his children, especially for Murph, his guidance through the vastness of space. Love is the reason he can’t let go of his mission, love is the reason he went on this mission, and love is the reason he reaches out across time to communicate with her.

Gut-wrenching it is when Cooper watches the video messages from his children, spanning 23 years. Son Tom expresses his frustration and eventual acceptance of Cooper's absence, turning the funerals of his granddad and child into his father's as well, while Murph shares her birthday message, revealing that she is now the same age Cooper was when he left. "But today's my birthday. And it's a special one, because you told me... you once told me that when you came back, we might be the same age," hit me like a ton of bricks. She has grown up without him, and that he has missed so much of her life is a powerful testament to the fact that being a casualty of time makes you gain a lot of distance between you and the people in your life.

I’ve often heard people say that time changes things, but does it really? Or does it simply ingrain those connections even further? I’ve experienced moments where I let time slip away thinking I would reach out later—years of distance between friends, family, and even romantic relationships. I wonder: Does time heal wounds? At the end, when Cooper and Murph finally reconnect, she tells him that she always knew he was out there, that she never gave up hope. The sheer emotion of that moment, the weight of all those years of separation, is something I can’t quite put into words. I can’t help but think about the people I’ve drifted away from—what would it take to reconnect? And would it be worth it? Time is fleeting. Every second I spend regretting the past or worrying about the future is one I lose in the present. We can make choices that affect our future. It made me think about how I navigate my own life. Am I really making the most of my time? Am I cherishing the relationships I have? Or am I constantly chasing something that’s just out of reach, like Cooper chasing time in that fifth dimension?

- Oizys.

Turning Point [of Weather] — Winter ends, Sun shines

It has been a roller coaster. I do not have the zeal to write. But I kind of have to. There is a weird cosmic energy called "annoying thoughts and pecking memories" that is making me. If I don't, they will keep swirling in this porta potty of vegetable brain of mine. Metaphors and jibes will keep the hurricane around and destroy my focus. 

The first job has ended. Closed that whole book, but not before making me have a full-blown and final settlement of breakdown on the 28th of January. It made me cry my brains out, which almost made it sound like I was praying. On my knees in a temple, begging for someone. [Hah. Begging to have someone I could turn to. Begging to have someone I could lie beside. Begging to have someone hold my hand. Begging to have someone who would be a non-judgemental pair of ears. Begging to have someone who would not pick my wounds but just silently bandage them. Begging to have someone who would not ask me to stop crying but contain all my flowing tears. Begging to have someone who would not pry further into what's wrong but just acknowledge something is wrong. Just someone. Anyone. Oh.] As the last working date crawled closer, everything just felt like it was dragging me around. It reminded me of those days when I would return home walking or cycling after a long, hard day with a full bladder about to explode, and the nearer I would get to home, the longer the distance would get. The more and more I would understand the importance of Kegels.

Finally, 31st of January. The whole day went by quite busy. It was all the very same or more strenuous, I would say. Until the end of the business day. Then, we had a final call. Ugh. This ugh is a mixture product of awkwardness, guilt, rotten anger, and some unjustified, irrational, unwillful sadness. All in all, each and every component is capable of making me hurl [both ways]. Everyone said nice words. Some said nicer ones. And some were just nice to keep my bile at bay. No matter what, it was an experience that is now forever etched in the geological record of my career. Doesn't matter if I remove it from the ol' resume or delete it from LinkedIn. It is here to stay forever. Even though I spent the last few weeks, in particular, sewing some distasteful comments to use in order to successfully burn the bridges, I could not. I like to believe it is because, underneath it all, I am a polite person. Some might argue it is just plain cowardice.

Anyway. Dreamy, unemployed weekend passed by. The 1st of February was sweet. The sun came up and shone like a good, obedient boy. My mother & I are suckers for sunny infant days. The initial rays of warmth hitting the stone cold and melting you just change your perspective. Even for half a day, it does. The winter is gone.

And the 3rd of February arrived quite quickly. I waited and waited. The new company seems to be on some retreat in a faraway coastal city. Some person did reach out for a bit of onboarding but only gave the ticket and asked me to wait in the line. So, I did. But while waiting, I fell asleep. And, might I say, I had the sweetest sleep in a long, long time. Actually sweet. It did not leave an aftertaste of guilt and regret, nor did it give me headaches. I woke up feeling refreshed. Woah. It almost feels blasphemous writing such things.

4th of February woke me up in a pool of blood and passed by with some side dish of anxiety of whether they remember me and if I exist or not. Not before fixing it with some fantastical made-ups. The night wrapped itself up with the pondering of whether fantastical make-believes are still fantasy if they become real. Is it still fantasy after one becomes reality and I still spend myself in woolgathering, or does it transform into setting next goals? Hmmm... 

5th arrived knocking on doors with some reassurance from the other side that I will surely be onboarded tomorrow as the retreat wraps up today, so I should also take chill. I spent my day repeating to myself to remind myself to take chill and did heaps of laundry while doing some pre-work prep. As the day ended, I could feel a bug of fear making itself known. Maybe that's why I am still awake. Do I want to sabotage this too? Do I not trust myself? Believe in myself? Yep, right. How could I forget? Nothing ever changes. I think my mother is giving me that look. I should retire. Good luck to me for tomorrow. Hope I am strong enough to contain whatever shit hits the fan.

- Oizys.