Little Red Riding Hood

May I return to the day where little girls are innocent? Please, perhaps for just a moment. Where her mother loved her and wanted to keep her safe, where grandma's arms weren't sharpening the knives. Please, give me back that time.

She's tired of slaughtering wolves.

She's sick of washing off the bloody stains.

Yet, she does need the warmth of that fur coat. She does indeed.

Can she rear the wolf so that it's live warmth keeps her company? So that she ceases with all the killings. Should she? For the might of a wolf is in its ability to hunt. Would it still have it's greatness if it were tamed and curled on her bed, keeping them both warm?


Can such a fairy tale be written with a happily ever after?

He knows when you've been naughty, he knows when you are nice...

No, I do not teach for those who come in to class immediately loving me. Yes, they make teaching a pleasure, but they are not the reason I remain in the field. I remain for the mini-me's. Those who parents have no time for, teachers have no patience for, and no one else will give them the chance to be themselves. Their angry, vengeful, hateful selves and help them see that there is still value to their existence.

It is no pleasure at being questioned left and right, and not having the chance to speak up for yourself. As if their questions alone proved you inadequate. But then again, perhaps he has had that done to him time and again that he knows no better. I cannot change how he treats me, but I am in control of how I react.

Lord, grant me the wisdom to help this child you have so kindly placed in my path. Or perhaps, he will be the one to help me.

The woes of Christmas shopping

What are my expectations? Do I expect you to change, or do I expect to accept you for what you are. Yes, I know what you are. I see the broken shards left untouched. The covenant I wish for us is unholy, has lost its sacridity, and is not what I imagined for myself.


Please, let this lesson end.


Show me, at least, that there is a way for me to graduate from this without harm.


If only it were as simple as having death do us part.


I still have many lessons to impart to you. How do I maintain objectivity? Do I distract myself with trivial pursuits in hopes that the distraction provides us distance?


I know there's no use in fighting against it. No matter how I plan the movement of each chess piece, there is still the opponent's movements that I can only hope to anticipate. The variables are greater.


Do good. Be good.


Am I finally strong enough? Or am I the unknowing villain. It's easier when you don't see the other party, isn't it? Easier to justify your lucrative ways.

Do you really have no personal interest in the matter?


Perhaps instead of setting your expectations, you need to take yourself out of it. See it from the outside. You know what it looks like. How has it been perceived? You have caused it. Rectify it before it is too late.



There is a covenant to be written.



Ready your mind, child. Covenants aren't easily broken.

The maze runner

How do I describe to you: that the corners are sharp. Yes, you may enter, but I do not promise you will escape.

The shrubbery is a lie. They appear soft and cushioning, but their thorns are poisonous and cut deep. They might offer you refuge from the monsters chasing after you, but they themselves will do you more harm.

Remember, that when I give you choices, I am limiting your options. Do you have any others? Do you really have any others?

The monster's sharp claws dig deep into your flesh, and you can hear your skin rip from the pressure. Veins are bursting. How do you escape? Do you close your eyes, waiting for it all to be over?




Wait,.... for it all to be over.

Finland!

Who we are.

If I took away your senses, render you unable to see, or hear; how terrible would that be?

His Achilles’ heel.

 

 

 

No, he is not a believer. He will anguish his very heel with pain and suffering. He does not believe. It cannot be true. He does not believe. To this heel he will befall every ounce of hurt. Why? Because he does not believe. Relinquish that wince of pain. He does not believe. Alexander, bring the salvation to a halt. Let me feel this pain. I need it. Let the anguish lay fall the weight of reality. He is no aurora.

 

 

Now, don't just walk away.

A little over a year ago, I found myself in turmoil. It was necessary. I had (I think most of us have) lived a life designed by others, and found myself in need of a re-calibration. I had never before thought of what it was I wanted. I realised that too much of what I was working towards was a result of what I was conditioned into wanting. I had to break free. Are they all bad? The things they conditioned me into? Not all. Some of it I found I even agreed to. In time.

That’s the thing. So much of these goals they had set were so attainable, it crushed me when I didn’t get there. At some point, I asked of that was all life was..these dull, attainable goals. Ad sadly, I was told ‘yes’. And blank stares ensued as I refused to accept it.

I had to re- assess my life. Did I have dreams? I was surprised to find that I did. I know they had been with me for a long time. But like many others, I kept them silent in a dusty box out of the common path that I threw myself into. No one understood how unhappy I was. So much anger. So much unrest. I felt unfulfilled.

I am lucky that I was willing to put myself through the pain. I look back at my scars and I find comfort in knowing that those scars are mine. I earned them. Greater than any trophy. I now know I have no thirst for trophies. But I love the preparations to war. I love the battle itself. And yes, I have found wars on which the winner isn’t declared. You rest, check your wounds, and decide whether you want to keep fighting. You decide whether there are still tactics to pick up, strategies you haven’t learnt. If there are no more then you pick up what mental weapons you have and you move on to your next battle.

This is life. I don’t care if I don’t win at it. But I do care of what I have made of myself. I do care of the person that I have become, or will become. Today’s choices should make me a better person tomorrow. But not so I can earn bragging rights. Rather, so that when my time is up I can say that I am ready. That I have not wasted the time Lord has granted me on his earth.

Have my priorities changed? Well, the essence of them haven’t. I wanted to determine for myself what I wanted to make of myself. I have pretty much done so. Now the greater challenge is making it happen. Over the course of the year I’ve found myself re-calibrating time and again. That is fine.

Truth is, I feel overwhelmed. I am voicing out and working towards something I fear. How do you choose to achieve something that makes you cower in fear? I am terrified. Of what, exactly? If I can find the answer to that then I can figure out if this is a battlefield I should be on. Is it the permanence? Is it the implications I am making? Is it physical or emotional?

How do I tell you that I love you when I know I am set up for hurt. Always, I am set up for hurt. How do I choose to fight when the fight will not award me a battle scar I can carry with pride? How do I show you my demons without them destroying us. But then, “he whose demons pacifies mine, who silences my evil, and serenades my unrest”.

No, it won't.

There is always a first time. You will always remain a gift to me. A blessing. I treasure you for the lessons I have learnt from you, and the lessons I continue to learn because of you. Look at me now. Walking on a path I never thought I would. Just a few months ago if you had told me I would be doing this I would say "That's because you don't know me." Yet here I am. I walked the path. God has blessed me with the people I need to make this happen. Will it? That is another question up to the will of God. I will walk the steps. If He wills it, it will come true. If not, he will send difficulties to show me. I trust in Him. And I trust in my ability to think things through.

Don't ask me to define what I feel for you. I don't know. But I know they are good feelings. Feelings I wish to keep. For you. Yes, you matter to me. There is no denying that. I would make sacrifices for you. And that, is not a privilege I grant to many.

Perhaps dreams do come true.

Maybe it's not forever, but what remains can be. He has given the possibility. Taught me what I did not know. Showed me the world, so to speak. People are lessons. So much I have learnt from this one. Even if it is not forever, the lessons definitely are. For that, I should be truly grateful.

People are brought into our lives when we need them. Sometimes they exit for that very reason as well. For now, I have my lessons to learn. I sure feel like an adult now. She knows what a big step this is for me; to even be speaking of it, even if it may not come true. Can I afford this? What will I have to sacrifice? Surely there are sacrifices to be made. Are they sacrifices that I can afford?

So many questions. So much uncertainty. What is sure, is that I have the people at my disposal who can help me through. No, I am not alone. I can do this. Though I am not yet sure what "this" is, I know I can.

I wish it were that simple. I had a glimpse of what could have been, and I shuddered at it. What I had wanted. It was what I had wanted, but not granted. Lord knows best.

For once, I see how He has protected me. I remember what I had mistakenly thought. A series of unfortunate events that aren't unfortunate after all. They were blessings.

How do I pull through this one? It will take time. Isn't it bizarre how the tables have turned and I see things from the other side. Where I am no longer chasing shadows, or illusions. Here is reality. Filthy, pungent, vile. Reality.

There's no sugar coating it.

How do I describe loathing something so much it attracts me? But then, aren't humans naturally attracted to what they despise? They hover over it, careful not to touch, but sure enough they do come menacingly near.

Father, protect me. No, he cannot. Salvage the remnants of the good in me. Father, please.

None of this makes sense. But has it ever? will it ever?

No, Sister. You are right. We do not choose. Yet what we do, we do indeed choose. That trigger feels light in my hand. Just a little pull. Just a little.

Do I want it to end?

Is it intrigue?

Ego?

A challenge.

Infatuation.


There is much to learn here. But this lesson will be particularly painful. The best ones always are.

Father, protect me.


Maybe I should surrender. That is indeed the easy path. Body is willing but the heart hesitates. That's new. The heart hesitates. The mind is alive and boggling. But the heart hesitates.

No, it is not mine.

Fight.


Of course I will, but for what?

What am I fighting for?

Father, salvage me.

Horrid. She tainted me with her evils and left me for dead. Now I lie here, broken. Abandoned. Discourage cannot begin to describe the hurt and pain I feel.


She. She is vile. Putrid. Pungent. Disgusting. There is no salvation for her. Not after all the pain she put me through. For what? For her own selfish needs. I was too pure. I didn't understand  her pain, so she gave me hurt. She gave me pain. She gave me angst. She. She drove me to this state of filth. All the pain that I am, is because of her. She wanted me to feel her pain. Now that I do, she deserts me.


How do I answer for what I have done?

Or, how do I manage what I do next?



Decisions, decisions....


That heart that hesitates patiently waits. Tis only a matter of time. A time already set.




This will not end soon. She will not enjoy it.

She pacifies my demons, calms my evil, and serenades my unrest.

we have come full circle.

The purpose is to learn. For me, beyond the learning there is the teaching. If I am no longer capable of learning then I am no longer worthy of teaching. There is nothing to impart. The learning process can be tough. It should be.

When your thirst for learning is as great as your need to breathe, then and only then, will greatness be achieved.

But the learning process can be tough.

Am I still capable of it? Yes. I am.

Here I am presented with proof of how little progression I have made in those terms. What can I make of it, but to move past and ensure that the lesson is indeed learnt. It pains me. I feel like it has weakened me. But remember, in that weakness, in that moment of gasping for air, I now find a renewed sense of determination. I can allow these petty bruises cripple me, or I can carry them with honour.

There was thrill in the ride, indeed there was.

Unfortunately, there’s not much of an opportunity for me to hop off this time.

I feel that gasping again. Suffocating. Vision impaired. Senses heightened. Panic setting in.

Help me, for I am weak.

Give me sustenance, provide me shelter, grace me comfort.

I can’t allow this cycle to control me. Yet it is.

Distract me.

Take me away.

Let me not astray.

 

 

 

If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs.

The effects of soma (Part 2)

 

Brendan didn’t know what to make out of the situation. Here he was, on a deserted island. With Julia. She was intriguing, he couldn’t deny. But she was no Sabrina. Julia had a tendency to overthink. She thought. Of. Everything. All. The. Time.

Brendan watched as she scurried around the hotel, or at least the parts that was visible. He noticed she was careful to always be in his line of sight. She didn’t like to be alone, despite how she mostly functioned on her own. Bizarre creature, he thought.

Brendan had not thought things through when he asked Julia on this trip. She wasn’t his type. Neither on character nor in physique. But there was something about Julia. He hadn’t made up his mind if he would have her before they embarked on their trip. And now, given these incredulous turn of events, he couldn’t make up his mind even further. Yet it was on his mind.

She loved to stare at him. Not just stare at him, she stared into him. It was like she saw things he didn’t know he had within him. He could never make up his mind. Was that how she flirted? Julia was far too… he couldn’t find a word for how she was with him. How she just sat in silence sometimes. How she would walk up to him, stare into him for a few brief seconds, which felt like eternity, and walk away.

Occasionally he would venture in and ask for an explanation, but her response more often than not raised more questions, and made your head spin. She had too many thoughts. Like seven different people’s lives had crammed themselves into that small body of hers and she is living a life for all seven of them. None of those seven had similar personalities, lived similar lives, or shared same ideas. All bundled up into that small frame of hers.

Brendan looked on as she clambered up a cabinet checking the supplies. He usually went for taller, bigger girls. Darker ones, too. Julia had none of those traits. And yet here he was watching her scamper like a little bunny up and down. Fascinating, he thought. He was still making up his mind so as to if he would have her. Opportunity is present, he thought. But would she want to? Brendan was stumped. With the other girls he always knew. All he had to do was show a little concern, shower a little bit of attention, and he knew which girls he could have. It was always easy enough.

But this was Julia. She didn’t seem to play on the same grounds. She was logical, practical, ethical, and she thought of everything. Could she have thought of being with him? He remembered how she lingered close to him, close enough for him to lean in for a kiss, but for some reason that day, he didn’t. He remembered how she spoke into his ear. He had felt a familiar buzzing as she nuzzled in to find his ear, but all she had to say was about possibilities. Had she no lust?

She was undressing. Her clothes were wet from the rain, and she had found bathrobes.

“I also found washing machines and dryers. We’ll have clean clothes soon enough” she said, almost triumphantly. She noticed he was staring at her as she undressed, right in front of him. “I’m sorry, but after being ditched by our motorboat guy I’m suffering a bout of abandonment issues. I don’t mean to give you nightmares, but I’m too scared to be out of your sight.” She said, matter-of-factly. He couldn’t make head or tail of things. He tried to think of Sabrina instead. It didn’t work.

She turned away as she peeled off pieces of wet clothing.

“I want to shower, but I won’t close the door, ok? I need you to keep talking to me so I know you’re still there. Will you do that?” she was staring into him again. Her arms were folded across her belly, holding the bathrobe around her. Hair in a tussled mess around her face. Lips pursed, eyes wide. Looking into him. He was stunned again. All he could do was to nod. She stepped back a few paces. He looked after her. He didn’t know what to make of it.

She stepped into the shower, and he couldn’t see her anymore, even with the door open. If this was any other girl he would have undressed himself and walked in, sans invitation. But this was Julia. How does one make anything of her? You could read her like a book, and yet you couldn’t at all. She was pretty, no denying that. But she had a way of pulling you in, yet keeping you away at the same time. She knew that. She had mentioned it to him once. She does it on purpose. “It hurts less to push people away then have them push you away” she had explained.

“Brendan?” her voice came from the shower.

“Yes?”

“You’ll keep me safe, right?”

“Of course, Julia”

“I’m trusting you, Brendan. Please don’t break my trust.”

Suddenly she was in front of him. Looking into him again. This time she had a towel on her head, wrapping her hair. The scent of shampoo emanating from her. Her robe securely tied around her waist. She knelt in front of him. She was almost pleading. She was pleading. Hand folded over the other, placed gently on his knee. She was staring up at him as she made him promise not to harm her, and to keep her from harm. He didn’t know if he could keep his promise, but he couldn’t say no. Not to those pleading eyes, to that voice.

Brendan broke away from her gaze, and let his eyes wander down, but she was careful to fold the robe up high. And she was far too slight that the robe concealed anything worth ogling over. Instead Brendan moved his gaze to her neck. He pictured himself leaning in to her neck, but this was Julia. Things were not going to be easy.

The effects of soma.

 

 

 

The torrential rain beat down heavily on the tiny motorboat.  There was not much they could do; two tourists depending on the sea-skills of whom the motorboat was owned by. Julia closed her eyes, trying to remain calm. Once in a while, she caught herself reciting chants to still her worrying heart. Brendan was good at keeping calm. Julia never knew what he was feeling just by looking at his face. That irritated her about him; yet it also kept bringing her back to him. She snuck a little closer to catch a whiff of his scent. She loved his scent. Perhaps that was what kept her so drawn to him.

“we are nearing an island!” shouted the sailor.

“there is a closed down hotel there. There will be shelter and supplies”

 

For a moment Julia felt relief. They were getting off the motorboat, away from the rough uncertain seas and even more unpredictable rains. Julia hated uncertainty. It was uncivilized, she thought. Like the days humans were viviparous. She shuddered at her thoughts. It was then that she realized what stopping at the island meant. It meant they wouldn’t go back to the main land. Not yet, at least. It meant she wasn’t going to the hotel she had booked for herself and Brendan. It meant they were no longer going as planned. Again, Julia shuddered and closed her eyes.

“the hotel was closed a few weeks back. Not many tourists this time of year.”

“is there anyone on the island?” Julia almost didn’t dare to hear the answer.

“no. There was the hotel, and nothing else. Save for what is of nature, that is”

 

Julia’s backpack was drenched. It was all she could hope that the lining inside kept her belongings dry. She wanted to change to dry clothes, and curl up in Brendan’s warmth. Again she tried to catch hold of his scent. She couldn’t, and that made her panic just a tiny bit more.

 

“when we arrive, the hotel is right up the beach. You’ll see it. The lights and water should work just fine. We’ll have to check how much food they have left there.”

Brendan was oddly quiet. Julia wanted to slip her hand into his, but she didn’t feel welcome. Oh how she wished they were back on the city, talking for hours as others had warned them not to. “it is unnatural” they said. “everyone belong to everybody.” “this ‘connection’ you are thinking of does not exist. You enjoy each other and that is it.” Julia knew they were wrong. She and Brendan, for all the women he had had, were different. They shared something beyond that. Of course it bothered her when he spoke of how great a girl had been, or of how she wasn’t what he was interested in as a woman, she felt hurt. But no one could take away how they spoke to one another. How he made her feel alive. Not that she ever knew how he felt towards her. She was almost afraid of asking.

As the boat got to the beach, Julia and Brendan leapt off the boat, and ran to the hotel. The front was locked, but Brendan broke down the door. We’ll pay for that, he justified. Julia nodded her head as she clung on to her backpack. They stepped in, scrambled for the lights, and thank Ford for when it turned on. Julia ran to the nearest sink. There was water. They could take shelter here. But, there was something. Julia’s head snapped.

“Do you hear that?” she looked at Brendan, who was busy undressing from his wet clothes. He ignored her. She ran out. Out into the heavy rains again. It was hard to see far, but it was what she didn’t see that mattered most. The motorboat. And the sailor. They were gone. She squeezed her eyes just enough to make a shape out in the distance. She shouted for home to come back. It was useless. She wanted to scream, curse, kick and flail her arms wildly. But what would have been the point? How do you fight what isn’t there?

 

“He left us. The boat’s gone. We’re stuck here. No one knows we’re here…..” that last sentence rained on Julia heavier than the rain outside.

Brendan looked at her. She looked at him back. His eyes comforted her. Few people Julia knew had those eyes. Eyes that she could lose herself into. Julia rarely lost herself. Her thoughts often ran ahead of herself. But not with Brendan.

 

There was nothing else they could do, but to check what supplies they had, search the hotel area for anyone there at all. No one. Uncertainty. Julia hated it. She didn’t know what was going to happen to her. She didn’t know if anyone was coming. She didn’t know if there was anyone on the island. She didn’t know if she was left there on purpose.

 

Focus on what you do know.

 

Julia knew what supplies they had. Some canned food, some dried stuff like rice,.. Julia couldn’t think. All she wanted, was to be in Brendan’s arms. Somehow, it made things better.

As broken, shattered, and ruptured as I am.

Am I better off not knowing? No. I’m glad I do now.

 

Time is a gift.

 

Each person in our lives, is a lesson. Either we are to learn from them, or we learn because of them. And as those people depart, whether or not it was on good terms, is because our lessons from them have ended. And vice versa. Sometimes the lesson is the pain we go through in our separation from them. Sometimes the lesson was in the time we had with them.

You’ll find there are those you thought you’d banished, yet a twist of fate brings them back to your door. Maybe there are lessons you have forgotten; and you need to revisit those memories with them in order to progress.

 

Progression.

 

We all make mistakes. Some of them, irreversible. The greater question is what have we made of those mistakes. They were necessary; have faith in that. Sometimes the lessons seem too heavy to endure, sometimes they feel unfair. “why is he  not tested as I?” Some say it is because he wouldn’t have been strong enough. One might also say that he has already learnt that lesson, or that it is not one he needs, or that he better learn it in in a different manner.

 

Would I be better had I never made mistakes? Would I be more worthy? Of what? If my life were any different, then I would be different. Could I be better? Of course. Everyone could. The greater question is am I on a path towards becoming a better person? Am I, right now, worthy of respect? Do I allow what I already am determine what I am in the future? Do I allow my past to determine what I am in the future? Have I allowed that past to dictate my current state of being?

 

 

 

 

Hope. I still have it.

 

 

Random rants. Let’s try that.

 

 

That scent.

 

The low tone of voice, comforting, patient,….. shall I say loving?

 

Not successful thus far.

 

Negativity at work.

 

What is it that inspires me? Learning. Teaching. Sharing. Let’s go back to that.

 

Still unsuccessful.

 

Twelve dead baby cockroaches. Seven of which are very fat. And not to mention the ants.

 

Focus.

 

No, scatter.

 

When was the last time you smiled?

 

Smile. Tomorrow will be smile day.

 

Maybe I should write a play. Title: twelve baby cockroaches.

 

Bad things are happening because you are not holding enough of the good. Say your graces, child.

The agony of missing someone who is right in front of you.

Henriette, Henriette, stop fiddling with your sleeves.

There, Louis dances in glee.

You feel hurt, you feel pain.

But is it for the betrayed love of thy husband?

He refuses to grace your bed.

Instead you fawn over Louis.

 

Henriette, Henriette, stop fiddling with your corset.

It isn’t love, I sure can bet.

Philippe can’t love you, no matter how he tries.

He’ll be courteous, he’ll be kind.

But the love of a husband,

In him you’ll never find.

 

Henriette, Henriette, stop fiddling with your hair.

La Baume Le Blanc now graces Louis’ stare.

What once was your she now so holds

In her virgin hands, their love unfolds.

Not with you, oh bewildered wife

Who now holds an heir,

Who now holds a life.

 

Henriette, Henriette, stop fiddling the napkins.

Have shame of the court, they can’t help but looking.

At how you fawn over what was never yours,

And forsake what is, as you drag your veins

On tormented fours.

 

Henriette, Henriette, remember your place.

Remain dignified, and hold your grace.

tis unbecoming for a queen to scream

Even if inside, your heart is bursting at the seams.

In the silent shadows you may then cry

For the loss of a loved one, who did not die.

 

Henriette, Henriette, you have to smile.

It was that smile that brought him by.

Be gracious and be content

To hold him near with no ill contempt.

Sooner be or sooner shan’t

The love you want regrow its plant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brave New World

No, it happens less and less often. Maybe it’s the environment I put myself in; but then again I’ve changed that. Then it must be me. Good. I can work on me.

 

I can answer for my actions.

I can atone for my sins.

I can learn from my mistakes.

 

 

But what is it that I did wrong? Do I lack the substance I so sure think that I have?

 

I can feel it. That decline in literacy, the loss in articulation, the demise of the wit I so treasured.

 

What is it that I did wrong?

 

How do I fix what I do not know how I have wronged?

 

Do I walk away? As I always have..wait, there was that punitive fight. I remember it. I remember that I did try that time. I just didn’t succeed.

Then how do I know whether or not to fight this time?

What am I fighting, anyhow?

 

I knew it. The worst enemies are the ones you cannot see. How do I fight when I do not know what I am fighting? How??

 

 

None of it makes sense.

 

Was it all my imagination? Or maybe it was reality. But the reality has changed.

 

It doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll still give up eventually. Tis not a fight you can win single handed-ly.

It’s horrible.

 

Missing what is right in front of you.

 

Maybe I should just walk away. Easier, isn’t it? Keep that box safely wrapped up and tucked away. Condemn it to what is certain.

 

Focus.

 

What are you here for?

 

 

Petty games and shenanigans?

 

 

Focus.

 

Have you not noticed that you are no longer where you started? And not in a good way, either. Pull yourself together. Is this really how you wish to see yourself? Spiralling downwards, and for what? the uncertainty and foolish hopes and dreams.

 

 

Are they really foolish?

 

 

Go with the flow. What are you rushing for? If you try to pluck your fruits before they ripen, ask not why they are not as sweet.

 

 

It’s horrible.

 

Missing what is right in front of you.

 

Tantalus.

 

 

Everybody belongs to everybody.
Of course you can have her. Everybody belongs to everybody.

Was my mistake in hoping, or in not trying hard enough?

The enemies that are hardest to fight, are the ones you cannot see.

That slight condescending passing comment passed in the hallways.

The scent of perfume he refuses to acknowledge permeating from his shirt.

That slight hesitation before leaning in to hug you.


How do you fight for what is not there?
How do you fight against it?


Sometimes they are smart; they place puppets as frontiers for us to channel our hate against. So we may have that face to disgrace, to spit upon, and to unite against.


But the hardest enemies to fight, are the ones you cannot see.

I suppose I haven't progressed as far as I thought; given how the current turn of events have come out.

But I am aware this time.

Quintessential details.

You can never prepare "enough". There's no such thing. Either you come to terms with that, or make your hair go grey worrying about trivial unforeseeable, unpredictable events.

What you can do is to have a good mind above your head. Think of the resources you will have at your disposal. Can others make do with it? Then why not you?

Everyone wants all the nice things in life. But exactly what is "nice" may not hold the same fluids as the next sea. If you are happy with what you have, let no one take that away from you.






And now, to pack.

People will not see how much you don't trust her, but they will see how you treat her.

Haven't posted random rants lately, have I? Here goes....

"The thing you need to know about my Mommy. For starters, she has two legs."




She fell down while out on a walk and accidentally slipped on a slug. She suffered a twisted ankle. The slug didn't survive.





Saturday. Sunday. Monday.





Why would he want to get into those waters?




erm, I never actually had it, but...... thanks?





Dry clean, wear, clean. Not.




Cheaper by the dozen.




This is why I love.

Rememberance.

He who can give so generously, can take away just as easily.
Forget not what you came from. Give thanks,



Give.


Not just material gifts.
Not purely in alms.



But give.

Give what is difficult for you to give.



Love.

Respect.

Forgiveness.





You cannot control how people treat you, but you can control how you react to it.



Are you the better person, or will you succumb to the weaker actions?




Strive.


Fight.



And yet, remain pure...

In your heart, in your actions, in your thoughts.



Remember Wrath and how it consumed you.


But also remember that you overcame that.




Remember.

Love, but love unconditionally.

I was restless, thinking of how to give myself a good birthday celebration. What shall I gift myself for such a great year of struggle and hard work? What shall be suited to the milestones I have passed, the obstacles I have overcome, and the tears I have wiped away.

Today, I am reminded that not only I am in charge of my life.

From how I chose the dates, to the disdain I have had to a certain someone, to how I stood my ground, to the comments in passing I have made….

 

The stars aligned, some say.

God has graced you, say others.

Pure coincidence.

What fate had written.

 

Read it how you may, but for me, in my shoes, I can only be one….

 

….and that, is grateful.

Happy Birthday to me!

 

 

This time, next month, I will give myself a blast of a celebration. What am I celebrating? A year of change, of secrets, and secrets unraveled. A year of mishaps, tears, sweat, trials, and little victories. A year of acceptance. This time last year, I was starting something new. And this year I am again. May I have the strength, tenacity, and willpower to always face new challenges. “I am tougher than I look” I tell them; and indeed I am. And may I always be.

I am celebrating the dreams I have made come true: one little dream at a time. There are plenty more in my bucket list, plenty of effort needed to make them a reality. But if anyone can, then that person is me.

 

I am celebrating the friends I have gained, the relationships I have built, the people I have love, and even those that I have lost. I know I have learnt from them; and those lessons live on, and will always live on, within me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jealousy, who is immune to it?

That feeling of want towards that of others; who has not felt it? That burning sensation telling you "it should be mine!"; we've all felt it at some point or another.

I cannot deny that I am happy with what I have. And as much as you might claim that you would snub the same opportunity should it befell your feet, I will simply tell you it is pointless; it didn't, and will not. At least not in this near future. However, that shall remain in my pungent thoughts as it matters not. What I have achieved is a reflection of what I have done. How you react, is a reflection of your character.

In the end, I will still be me.

The heart behind it

What of those who fill church at mass?
The ones who have wronged and seek forgiveness.
The ones who disgruntledly go because mum says so.
The ones who go because it has been so every Sunday of their lives.
The one who sits at the back so that leaving will be easier.
The ones who post selfies (and don't forget to #hashtag)
Those who go to be together
Those who go to get that moment alone
Those who go because the neighbours will whisper if they don't
Those who go because it's nearby




They are all there, in that one place.
The question is, is it our place to judge the heart behind those bodies that are present?

Nineteen Eighty-Four

The art about the teeth falling off really stuck to me. The torture was fine, but somehow the teeth thing struck hard.

My lake house

It started with Olaf suddenly appearing,
To which was replied "some friends are worth melting for; for the others, just let it go.... let it goooo"

A clenched hand with an upward thrust thumb
A "Like", rather,
Turned sideways so it looked like it pointed inwards instead..
To Mario, with an "M" on his cap.

Mario's "M" was replaced with an "L"
So away Mario went.

That "L" became the beak of a bird, looking at the shells of an egg.
Out of the shell sprung a baby dinosaur,
"That awkward moment you realize you wife is cheating on you"

That baby Dino had a papa Dino,
Overlooking the hot air balloon they had forgotten to tie up.

"That awkward moment your wife was in the basket and it doesn't matter anymore"

There were scoreboards for voting,
Stories of animals that lived on the table.

Kind of how Song of Ice and Fire started with turtles.

Talks of future hopes,

Occasional gifts laid out to take.







Yes, I have learnt to miss someone I have never met.

Save me.

The heart wants what it wants

Don't play with her heart, she only has one.

Nineteen Eighty-Four

They are arranging to meet; somewhere a long train ride away. He was so excited by the touch of her hand that he could recognise it by sight even though he had only held it once.


How people fight to have what they are not able to, yet take for granted what they have in abundance.

I guess I was just part of a collection.
On the shelf now, forgotten.
Looked upon, from time to time.
But only a memory,
Of what was once a prize possession.


I guess that's where it started wrong.

Nineteen Eighty-Four

I was hoping that part II was the same story, retold from the dark-hired girl's point of view. And then perhaps part III of Syme, or even Mrs Parsons.


I guess that is the beauty of such novels. So many endless possibilities, so great in feeding the mind.



Amazingly, such reading has started bringing forth my trusty pot.

It struck a chord. Indeed it did.

An empire wasn't made great by the men who stayed home, working nine-to-fives, and washing their cars on weekends.


They were made great by those who had the opportunity of comfort, of privilege, of stability, and yet they decided they were capable of struggle. And they fought more than for the homes they returned to.

Nineteen Eighty-Four

I'm at that part where Syme talks about the destruction of words. Winston is horrified that his friend, though seeing the adverse affects of erasing vocabulary, of annihilating choice of words, can describe his understanding of how it helped Big Brother to control society.

Limit the words, limit the thinking.

And I look now helplessly at the real society I live in. Where abbreviations are abundant, where repetitive jokes are laughed at for hours on end. Where name calling is as deep an insult as one is capable of.


And I think now to how at a loss for words I have been. How the words used to pour out like steam from a boiling kettle.



The pot!



That heat I so strongly tried to put out. That "Happy" that I was seeking. Is it killing my words?




Read.

Out there, somewhere....

It's not about not feeling..

I remember, not too long ago..when there was no "Happy". Think of a pot on the stove. That was how it felt. All the time. Sometimes you had just turned off the gas, sometimes you had just switched it on. No matter how good things were, all you could do was to switch off the heat; or maybe just turn it down. There just wasn't any "happy".


It wasn't because there wasn't reason, there were plenty. But maybe, just maybe... it was because the pot just couldn't move from that stove.


It boiled over, simmered, cold down, heated up,.... day in, day out. There just wasn't any "happy". So today, when I had to drag myself out of bed an hour after getting home from work, having to have woken up five hours earlier than I usually do before work; all in all being up for almost 24 hours with only an hour and a half's worth of sleep, drive 30 minutes away to find it impossible to park, clamber up through a maze of offices, then having to stand three hours in line with a grumbling stomach,



I had a surprise.



I could still find "happy".




"Happy" was there watching the siblings squabble and play together.
"Happy" was there pondering where all these people were getting themselves to.
"Happy" was there looking at people clucking their tongues away in discontentment and knowing I had no rush for the day.



But no, the pot wasn't gone.


It heated up as the people started to grow impatient.
It simmered as the girl in front kept pushing herself into my face no matter how I backed away.
It bubbled as this guy was obviously trying to cut ahead of me.



But "happy" was there.



"Happy" kept the pot from the boiling over. "Happy" watched over as the pot simmered and sizzled.





"Happy" was there.

Looking for my smile....

What is it that bothers me so much?

...and I meant each and every one!

"If you don't stop............................I will leave, go to the market, buy a raw fish, come back, and slap you with it!"
(this is unsettling because I hate going to the market, have never bought raw fish, driving is such a hassle and parking is almost impossible to find. Plus, I hate touching raw fish)

"If you don't stop............................I will hang you over a boiling pot. And my pot, is big!"
(and then some poor child will raise their hand asking where I keep my pot)

"If you don't stop............................I will cut off the beard of an old man, shove it in your mouth, and force you to swallow it!"
(may the wisdom of the old man that was in his beard be with you. Poor old man whose beard gets cut off, though)

"If you don't stop............................I will sit on you!"
(I have no idea why this is so terrifying to them. But it works!)


"If you don't stop............................I will put my foot, in your mouth. And my toes, are long *wiggles fingers in threatening manner*!"
(He was ok until the part I mentioned the long toes. After that, mere wiggling of fingers with a menacing look deterred him from his rascally ways)


"If you don't stop............................I will gather all the socks that are here, and make you sniff each one. And those socks have been inside shoes for hours with sweaty feet!"








Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....the joys of teaching.

In my own world

Where I am Goldilocks, babysat by three bears.

Where I am righteous, and fight for the salvation of our future.

Where colours make sounds, and sounds have flavours.

Where I am sometimes a princess, and sometimes a queen.

Where dragons and demons are real, tangible, and tameable.







This is my world, this is my reign.

I guess I have one

I cannot resist that urge.

This is why I love (2)

Last week I taught Group B, but at the request of the school teacher I swapped (permanently) to Group A. The reason for the request was that Group A was "harder to handle".



After the class...



Girl from Group B: Miss, will you be teaching us next week?

Me: Well, you'll have to be here to find out.

Girl from Group B: ...but I want you to teach us..

Boy from Group A: Nope... we stole her!

Girl from Group B (to boy): You thieves!

(Girl turns to friend, also in Group B): We must be naughty!




Help! My heart!

I dreamed a dream in cheese....

I dreamt that a friend was talking to me..at the office we used to work together at. Of course, because dreams are dreams, the office didn't look quite the same as how it actually is.


As we talked, she had a pack of cheese with her. Unopened. Cheddar cheese. Not the usual 5-slice type. This was much bigger than that.


As we were talking, somehow I opened her pack of cheese, and took a slice. The cheese slices were in a carton; which is again a sign that this was a dream because cheese in my country is not sold in cartons.


For some bizarre reason, I convinced her that that cheese was not hers, but in fact, mine. Bear in mind this was not a friend who generally minded sharing a little bit of food with another friend.


Eventually that friend left, to attend to work. So I set out to buy her a new pack of cheese. I searched high, I searched low; for a pack of cheese to give my friend Flo.


But a pack of cheese I couldn't find..so this very friend, I had to leave behind.




The end.

No, I will not.

I've come to that point where I'm questioning all I'm doing. Perhaps it is the absence of having short bursts of flavour in my life.


How do I remain motivated?


How do I keep myself from drowning in these petty shallow pools of indulgences and procrastination?




How do I keep sight of what I am fighting for, just as the trees grow too tall and block my view?

I have got to stop messing up my tickets..

Not only have I managed to book tickets, then arrive late, at the wrong theatre, at the wrong mall....





I have also booked impossible 6am train tickets which for some unknown reason I had convinced were for 9am. I only realized this at midnight before boarding the train.

It is they who make it all worthwhile.

"Miss, your voice is so lovely. How do I train mine so it's as lovely as yours when I grow up?"


"Was I a very nice toad for you, miss?"


"Did you like my chicken sounds, miss? May I be the chickens?"








Help, my heart!!

"What do you have a hard time accepting about yourself?"

UAE!!!

A day not as planned

For some unknown reason, I just cannot get enough rest. Or is it one of those where you're tired because you rested too much?

Couldn't get up when I was supposed to.

Place I had to coax myself for weeks and weeks to go to turned out to be closed.

Internet timed out at the most inconvenient time.

Got locked out.







As a result, I now have to make two phone calls, hoping things get straightened out.

I still have loads to do, and for some reason procrastination is still plaguing me.

I have a full day ahead, plenty to do tomorrow, and yet here I am accomplishing nothing. Maybe its time to get those essays done. But what do I write?

I want to watch a movie.

Neighbour thinks its perfectly fine to be blasting music through out HER waking hours.

Can't afford groceries yet here I am sipping overpriced coffee.

Ok, let's get busy.

...and you let her go

Sometimes, the people you like, the people you care about, the people you want in your life; they leave.




And sometimes,




Just sometimes,




You have to let them go...




..because that is your reminder to move forward as well.

"No cellphones in the work area"

What are the odds of me forgetting to put my phone on silent.

What are the odds of me walking up to the big boss to have a casual chat.

What are the odds of my phone making a sound at that hour, as I stood chatting with the big boss.







*face palm*

"When you feel like you do not have enough, give."

Forgive me, Lord, for I have been ungracious.
I have blinded my sight from your various blessings.
I have sputtered and whined that you haven't provided me with what I wanted;
When indeed, all this while, I have had all I've needed.

Planning for possibilities.

Of course there might be hindrances. That is part of life. Curveballs may come.


No, that shall not deter me.


I plan for possibilities; not  absolutes.




But I do  have goals, and those goals I shall achieve..

Invincible or invisible

Yes, it would be easier to slink away..
Fade away into the distance.



But remember your colours, sweet child.
Remember that you have colours that deserve to shine.

Music, is how we decorate time.

I wonder what contributed to this week's fatigue.

The inability to come back with a witty response to one person's condescendence.

The lack of stamina to go beyond 500 steps.

Falling asleep at the gym.

Being so absent minded and almost leaving behind something precious at the restaurant.

Again, forgetting to bring it with me at the salon.

Again, at forgetting to lock the car.





Let us just take a deep breath and give moment to happy thoughts...


Here's to this week's excellence:

Being encouraged to sing, where songs are not sung. And having them back you up when the little jealous creatures try to bring you down.

Looking for a voice that used to emerge effortlessly.

Finding it in a classroom that I used to always dread.

Seeing eager little heads bobbing and belting out their heart's content.








I almost forgot that little joy. Thank you, for reminding me.

As often as my thoughts and dreams drift to you; I wonder, am I in yours?