It was there, clinging on to the edge of the leaf and was about to fall, fall into the little puddle of water below.
The Droplet.
Yes, the droplet was ready to give up and surrender its existence to the little puddle below. But something made it cling on, just that little bit longer.
Perhaps a desire to stay that fraction of a second more in company of the green leaf. The same green leaf that held it, nurtured it and was now ready to offer it to the little society of droplets underneath.
What was it? Just a droplet!
Where did I come from? No one knows. Perhaps a fog, a dew, an overnight drizzle perhaps from nowhere but it was now here.
It existed and existed with a distinct identity. An identity that was now to be submerged into the flow of millions to be lost.
Reluctantly, the droplet left the shelter of the leaf. All the time it went down, it pointed towards its once safe, soft and sure shelter. And then with a little whimp it dropped into the puddle.
We don't know what strength the droplet had in its heart or what amount of agony or what purpose it set itself to make it so heavy. As it fell, it created a huge ripple all around it.
It was the sign of revolution.
It said that it was here to make changes, to transform the society of droplets into the way it learnt intuitively from the soul of the world. To live with a distinct identity.
But, something else happened. The ripple it sent around gradually died out and with time, silently the pool of droplets engulfed it. And its existence was lost.
The water in the puddle never remained the same again.
The droplet fell, the ripple was created, the mud was churned, and the colour of the society of droplets changed forever.
We may be a droplet in an ocean of people, but it requires only one to churn what lies within us and change the course of our destiny...
Thursday, 14 May 2009
Friday, 17 April 2009
Ever wondered what Love is...?
What is love?
Is it something you can only truly find in one person?
Is there really someone out there made just for you and what are the chances of you finding him/her?
Why is it so hard to figure out?
These are all questions that we've all been asked before and want to know the answer.
'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.' Does that make any sense to you?
Personally, I think it's saying that love is something that lasts for ever and it's something that cannot be changed no matter through what ever difficulty or obstacle, or else it's not actually love.
Or, more likely, it means that love does not seek to change another person to one's own ideals, but accepts his/her love for who they are, as they are. Personal improvement is another story, but as far as personality changes go, I believe they remain unchanged and we accept because we love.
Love is not a fantasy or a feeling, it is as immortal as immaculate truth. Love is when you can say anything around the person and not feel embarrassed or weird. You never feel awkward but like you are always safe. It's like when a new born baby looks into its mother's eyes and lays all it's trust in her to take care of him and to raise him well. Am I still making sense?
My ex boyfriend once got down on his knees in the middle of one of our many fights and shouted, "I am nothing special, just a common man with common thoughts and I've lead a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten but in one respect, I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who has ever lived, I have loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, that has always been enough."
It's corny but it made me cry and then I knew that he really loved me, he said it before but something in my gut just told me that he really loved me.
Is love something that has to last forever? Or can we experience love in a matter of seconds, days, or months? If a relationship breaks down, does the feeling of love for that person ever leave you - at this point I am not so sure.
What about the love we feel for our family? The love for a family is supposed to be unconditional, something you are born with, but try and remember a time when a family member did something and you realised how much you loved them - think about that feeling, you weren't born with that - you learn that through experience.
No one will ever be able to explain what love is to you, and when you think that they do it right, you'll find out that their version is nothing else but a small piece of what it actually is, because there is no one on the face of the earth that can describe everything about love, there aren't enough words.
You'll find out what love is for yourself, even if you don't know what to expect, when it hits you, you'll know exactly what it is.
Is it something you can only truly find in one person?
Is there really someone out there made just for you and what are the chances of you finding him/her?
Why is it so hard to figure out?
These are all questions that we've all been asked before and want to know the answer.
'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.' Does that make any sense to you?
Personally, I think it's saying that love is something that lasts for ever and it's something that cannot be changed no matter through what ever difficulty or obstacle, or else it's not actually love.
Or, more likely, it means that love does not seek to change another person to one's own ideals, but accepts his/her love for who they are, as they are. Personal improvement is another story, but as far as personality changes go, I believe they remain unchanged and we accept because we love.
Love is not a fantasy or a feeling, it is as immortal as immaculate truth. Love is when you can say anything around the person and not feel embarrassed or weird. You never feel awkward but like you are always safe. It's like when a new born baby looks into its mother's eyes and lays all it's trust in her to take care of him and to raise him well. Am I still making sense?
My ex boyfriend once got down on his knees in the middle of one of our many fights and shouted, "I am nothing special, just a common man with common thoughts and I've lead a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten but in one respect, I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who has ever lived, I have loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, that has always been enough."
It's corny but it made me cry and then I knew that he really loved me, he said it before but something in my gut just told me that he really loved me.
Is love something that has to last forever? Or can we experience love in a matter of seconds, days, or months? If a relationship breaks down, does the feeling of love for that person ever leave you - at this point I am not so sure.
What about the love we feel for our family? The love for a family is supposed to be unconditional, something you are born with, but try and remember a time when a family member did something and you realised how much you loved them - think about that feeling, you weren't born with that - you learn that through experience.
No one will ever be able to explain what love is to you, and when you think that they do it right, you'll find out that their version is nothing else but a small piece of what it actually is, because there is no one on the face of the earth that can describe everything about love, there aren't enough words.
You'll find out what love is for yourself, even if you don't know what to expect, when it hits you, you'll know exactly what it is.
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
Here's a little something....
Here's a little something that I wrote, that I like to read when I need a little pick me up when things are being not so nice.
Hope you enjoy:
Lying on the cold table
Incomplete, Unfinished.
Tossed aside with frustration
Not to be thought about again.
Waiting on the dirty ground
Patiently, Faithfully.
Hoping to be seen,
To be touched, and bring satisfaction.
One day a connection will be made
And life will be complete.
With no missing pieces, but a perfect picture.
Along with a smile and a sigh of relief.
Until this day there will be more waiting,
Hoping, and Disappointment.
But in the end it will be worthwhile.
So take a deep breath and look around.
Just remember that anything is possible, with a little smile, dedication and most importantly BELIEF.
Short & Simple post today,
Sue.........x
Hope you enjoy:
Lying on the cold table
Incomplete, Unfinished.
Tossed aside with frustration
Not to be thought about again.
Waiting on the dirty ground
Patiently, Faithfully.
Hoping to be seen,
To be touched, and bring satisfaction.
One day a connection will be made
And life will be complete.
With no missing pieces, but a perfect picture.
Along with a smile and a sigh of relief.
Until this day there will be more waiting,
Hoping, and Disappointment.
But in the end it will be worthwhile.
So take a deep breath and look around.
Just remember that anything is possible, with a little smile, dedication and most importantly BELIEF.
Short & Simple post today,
Sue.........x
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
Overcoming The Block...
The award for the most perplexing feeling of all time must undoubtedly be presented to Writer’s Block, for there is truly nothing quite so stressing as an empty pen poised above paper. It is maddening when the last few drops of shampoo cling to the bottle, slowly rolling down the sides in lengthy procession, yet never fully greeting the opening of the bottle. Likewise, being unable to efficiently translate one’s frame of mind into a flow of written words is the utmost sensation of insanity. Though the troubles created by Writer’s Block are many, be not alarmed, for the solutions are not few.
It is unquestioned that Writer’s Block creates myriad problems. First is an issue of time—there’s that paper due in exactly four hours, and there’s that timed essay which will be snatched away as soon as the bell rings, or the deadline fast approaching like a tiger chasing prey. Not being able to compose one’s thoughts effectively and in a timely manner poses a significant obstacle towards completing certain assignments and achieving the desired reward, whether it be grades or publication. Another dilemma is the agitation, caused either by that particular time-crunching experience or just by the fact that it is a categorical imperative to complete the piece; to do otherwise would be a complete violation of values. At this juncture, many would cease to write, but for those who cannot lay down the pen upon an unfinished essay, the distress at this point may be unbearable.
So we arrive at the long awaited question: how to overcome Writer’s Block? The first measures ought to be to limiting disturbances that could inhibit the process of writing: cease the piercing blares of radio and television and exit the distracting realms of Social Networking sites and Instant Messenger. Oh, and don’t forget to turn off the strobe light. Another method of coping is to break the interminable pressure by pursuing another activity, then coming back to write. Experts also recommend practicing by regularly responding to spontaneous essay prompts or spending time to freely jot down thoughts that may settle in the mind. Other than that, one approach that has greatly assisted me has been to peruse the writings of others for inspiration. Oftentimes, I will find that after realizing the rhythm of another author’s writing style, I can much easier resume my own. Plus, I am rejuvenated with further ideas.
Though infinitely irritating, Writer’s Block should not always be viewed with negativity, for many have empirically reaped its benefits (what? There are benefits?). The music group Chicago, for example, wrote the hit “25 or 6 to 4” when their juices of creativity had but evaporated, and the movie Shakespeare in Love builds around the idea of Writer’s Block as its theme… Not to mention that this essay itself was the fruit of an extended period of distressed brain wracking. Additionally, Writer’s Block provides insight into individual weaknesses that might not have been revealed otherwise, paving the path to improvement. Why did the obstruction take place? Is it a certain period of the day or under a certain topic that the block occurs? Having the experience of being unable to write is crucial to answering these questions and is the prerequisite to solving similar situations in the future.
Writer’s Block, though the root of many a complication, seems not so strenuous after all. The key is to do anything it takes to overcome it, and once it is overcome, the best has yet to arrive. Now the incomparable elation I feel in completing this article, on the other hand, is one of the best feelings in the world. That, however, is a story to be told another day—if I can just get over my Writer’s Block.
It is unquestioned that Writer’s Block creates myriad problems. First is an issue of time—there’s that paper due in exactly four hours, and there’s that timed essay which will be snatched away as soon as the bell rings, or the deadline fast approaching like a tiger chasing prey. Not being able to compose one’s thoughts effectively and in a timely manner poses a significant obstacle towards completing certain assignments and achieving the desired reward, whether it be grades or publication. Another dilemma is the agitation, caused either by that particular time-crunching experience or just by the fact that it is a categorical imperative to complete the piece; to do otherwise would be a complete violation of values. At this juncture, many would cease to write, but for those who cannot lay down the pen upon an unfinished essay, the distress at this point may be unbearable.
So we arrive at the long awaited question: how to overcome Writer’s Block? The first measures ought to be to limiting disturbances that could inhibit the process of writing: cease the piercing blares of radio and television and exit the distracting realms of Social Networking sites and Instant Messenger. Oh, and don’t forget to turn off the strobe light. Another method of coping is to break the interminable pressure by pursuing another activity, then coming back to write. Experts also recommend practicing by regularly responding to spontaneous essay prompts or spending time to freely jot down thoughts that may settle in the mind. Other than that, one approach that has greatly assisted me has been to peruse the writings of others for inspiration. Oftentimes, I will find that after realizing the rhythm of another author’s writing style, I can much easier resume my own. Plus, I am rejuvenated with further ideas.
Though infinitely irritating, Writer’s Block should not always be viewed with negativity, for many have empirically reaped its benefits (what? There are benefits?). The music group Chicago, for example, wrote the hit “25 or 6 to 4” when their juices of creativity had but evaporated, and the movie Shakespeare in Love builds around the idea of Writer’s Block as its theme… Not to mention that this essay itself was the fruit of an extended period of distressed brain wracking. Additionally, Writer’s Block provides insight into individual weaknesses that might not have been revealed otherwise, paving the path to improvement. Why did the obstruction take place? Is it a certain period of the day or under a certain topic that the block occurs? Having the experience of being unable to write is crucial to answering these questions and is the prerequisite to solving similar situations in the future.
Writer’s Block, though the root of many a complication, seems not so strenuous after all. The key is to do anything it takes to overcome it, and once it is overcome, the best has yet to arrive. Now the incomparable elation I feel in completing this article, on the other hand, is one of the best feelings in the world. That, however, is a story to be told another day—if I can just get over my Writer’s Block.
Saturday, 28 March 2009
You asked me what I want....
Well that is quite a question...
I want to fall in love with you, I want to so badly. I want to be there for you in every way imaginable. I want to hold your hand and stand by your side through the trials and tribulations that are thrown in your way. I want to be there to help you celebrate your victories. I want to be there for you from beginning to end. I want to be the person you trust the most and confide in, I'd give anything to carry that responsibility. I don't want to betray you; I want the capability to be utterly honest and trustworthy to you.
I want to be the shoulder you go to when you need one for support. I want to be the small and frail set of arms you long for when you need a hug. I want to be the person you seek out when you need to be showered with affection. I want to be there waiting for you while you're gone. I want to be the one longing to come back to you when I'm gone. I want to give you everything I have, my heart, my body, my soul, my love and devotion. I want you to look past the fact that I'm broken or defective goods and love me anyway. I don't care about the demons you may have on your back or your little imperfections; to me they make you perfect. I don't care if you have a past or enough baggage to sink a nation…I do too and I want to carry it all with you (not for you.)
I want to snuggle with you at night, smelling your T-shirt and hugging up as close to you as I can. I want to not want to let you go. I want to touch your face tenderly and cover it with feathery kisses. I want to run my thumb softly along your eyelashes while you're sleeping. I want to become irritated with your snoring and talking in your sleep until I hear you mumble my name. I want to complain about your cold feet touching me at night or fight with you over the covers. I want to send your ass packing to the couch. I want to love every fibre of your being, because they make you who you are, and I want to love you. I want to go to you when I'm upset and hurt just to be engulfed in your arms. I think I'd feel safer there than anywhere else. I want that feeling of security I know you can give me. I want to break down crying, completely heartbroken only to have you mend me back together just by holding me close and whispering to me reassuringly. I want to give you peace.
I want to laugh my ass off at you and your goofiness. I want to listen to your corny jokes and your terrible impersonations because they really are funny even though I don't want to admit it. I want you to snicker at me and call me weird nicknames because of my unconventional habits. I want to form as many inside jokes with you as I can and remember them all just so I can send you random messages throughout the day that won't make sense to anyone but us. I want you to laugh at the messages until you cry and when your coworkers or friends ask what's so funny, you can't explain it, you just laugh until they think you've gone insane. I want to be the one to make you smile. I want to talk politics with you and debate the meanings of life and love. I want to develop our own philosophies together. I want to make important and life changing decisions with you.
I want to do favours for you, saying: "Ok…but you owe me," not because I actually want something, it just means I'll get to spend more time with you. I want to get so mad at you sometimes that I end up feeling ashamed of myself and ask for forgiveness even though it actually was your fault. I want you to do the same with me. I want you to roll your eyes at me when I get on your nerves, forcing me to pinch you in retaliation. I want you to pinch me back. I want to get into pinching wars with you. I want you to tell me when I'm doing something wrong or annoying (just so I can pinch you back yet again to get even.) I want to wrestle with you in the living room. I want to land on top and pin you down, and gloat about how I won even though we both know you let me just so you could have a 'nice view'.
I'd like to be able to lay my head on your shoulder not because I'm sleepy, but because I get to be closer to you in a sneaky way. I want you to hug me from behind and seductively kiss my shoulder. I want to bury my face in your neck and tickle you unexpectedly with my eyelashes. I want you to call me an idiot for doing something, followed by: "but for some odd reason I love you anyway." I want to spend an entire Saturday in bed with you. I want to make memories with you; good ones, bad ones, sweet ones, funny ones, ridiculous ones, naughty ones…I just want to share them with you and you alone.
I want to hurt in your absence; I want that pain deep inside my chest. I want to feel like I'm the loneliest person in the world when you're gone. I want the excitement I know I'm bound to feel upon your return. I want the knowledge that I belong to you and you belong to me. I want you to know you always have someone to turn to and I want for us to be together even if some people may not agree with our union. I want the stress and frustration that come with the difficulties in a relationship because it means you come attached. I want you to want to be with me despite all the factors that may be stacked against us. I want to fight those factors with you. I may not want to spend the rest of my life with you just yet, but I want to consider it someday. I want you to want a future. I want to see you succeed in life, not just financially, but I want to see you happy and enjoying life to its fullest. I want the reassurance that you'll live up to your potential and become someone that'd make me even more proud of you than I already am.
I want to experience young love with you. I want for us to go to public places just to see the elderly couples glare at us and bicker about 'the youth of today' with our tattoos and piercings and 'horrid rock music'. I want you to laugh at me when I say 'that'll be us someday'. I want to spend an entire day washing your car only to end up with us dirtier than the car was to begin with. I want to spray you in the face with the hose and then have you chase after me and tackle me to the ground. I want to stay up all night watching horror movies with you until we're both too scared to go to sleep. I want to sit quietly and listen to you sing along to whatever is playing. I don't think anyone could calm me like that the way you do.. I want the songs to make me cry and then have you gently wipe away the tears. I want to jump on you afterwards and take advantage of you (none too gently I might add.) I want you to want me to take advantage of you. I want you to take advantage of me in return.
I want us to sit in comfortable silence while I write about you without your knowledge. I want you to know what I'm actually doing, but stay silent so as not to ruin the moment. I want long talks with you about the dumbest things as in subliminal messaging in cartoons. I want to watch you laugh and smile, and because of this I want to fall in love with you all over again. I want to undress you with my eyes.
I want you to tell me I don't need to wear makeup because I'm beautiful without it even though we both know if I went outside looking the way I do in the mornings I'd scare small children. I want you to talk me out of getting my nose pierced, but end up taking me to get my first tattoo instead. I want to fight over little things with you like what radio station to play or what channel to watch on the TV. I want to argue with you over whether to go to Burger King or KFC until we finally compromise on McDonald's even though neither one of us likes their food. I want to hate your video games the way you hate my feminist music. I want you to teach me how to play Mortal Combat only to have me accidentally beat you. I want to laugh at you while you rant about 'beginner's luck' and say: 'it was a fluke'. I want to get competitive with you. I want to place bets with you over random things.
I want to go dancing with you. I want you to be overprotective of me and make sure I don't get run over by a hoard of drunk guys. I want to get into an argument in the middle of the place over some stupid or meaningless thing. I want the make-up sex afterwards when we get home. I want your friends to like me, I want to like them. I want to watch your practices. Basically, I want a life with you in it. I want a relationship with nobody but you. I know I'm normally picky and have a lot of faults, but you have touched my heart in a way no one has before and all I want right now is for you to accept me. I will be there for you and I will love you unconditionally because I want to fall in love with you and you alone and I believe you're worth the effort. I believe everyone deserves love, including us, and you're the only one I want to fall in love with.
I want to make you feel loved, accepted, cherished, appreciated, and far more special than you can ever imagine because that's what I want you to mean to me.
Do you want to know what I really want?
I want to be brave enough to tell you everything I have mentioned above....
But instead I will answer your question with a different answer, an answer that wont make you run a mile, an answer that wont expose my true feelings, that wont strip me bare for you too see my true colours, just a simple answer:
"What do you want...?"
"I want ice cream.."
And the world will continue as normal...
I want to fall in love with you, I want to so badly. I want to be there for you in every way imaginable. I want to hold your hand and stand by your side through the trials and tribulations that are thrown in your way. I want to be there to help you celebrate your victories. I want to be there for you from beginning to end. I want to be the person you trust the most and confide in, I'd give anything to carry that responsibility. I don't want to betray you; I want the capability to be utterly honest and trustworthy to you.
I want to be the shoulder you go to when you need one for support. I want to be the small and frail set of arms you long for when you need a hug. I want to be the person you seek out when you need to be showered with affection. I want to be there waiting for you while you're gone. I want to be the one longing to come back to you when I'm gone. I want to give you everything I have, my heart, my body, my soul, my love and devotion. I want you to look past the fact that I'm broken or defective goods and love me anyway. I don't care about the demons you may have on your back or your little imperfections; to me they make you perfect. I don't care if you have a past or enough baggage to sink a nation…I do too and I want to carry it all with you (not for you.)
I want to snuggle with you at night, smelling your T-shirt and hugging up as close to you as I can. I want to not want to let you go. I want to touch your face tenderly and cover it with feathery kisses. I want to run my thumb softly along your eyelashes while you're sleeping. I want to become irritated with your snoring and talking in your sleep until I hear you mumble my name. I want to complain about your cold feet touching me at night or fight with you over the covers. I want to send your ass packing to the couch. I want to love every fibre of your being, because they make you who you are, and I want to love you. I want to go to you when I'm upset and hurt just to be engulfed in your arms. I think I'd feel safer there than anywhere else. I want that feeling of security I know you can give me. I want to break down crying, completely heartbroken only to have you mend me back together just by holding me close and whispering to me reassuringly. I want to give you peace.
I want to laugh my ass off at you and your goofiness. I want to listen to your corny jokes and your terrible impersonations because they really are funny even though I don't want to admit it. I want you to snicker at me and call me weird nicknames because of my unconventional habits. I want to form as many inside jokes with you as I can and remember them all just so I can send you random messages throughout the day that won't make sense to anyone but us. I want you to laugh at the messages until you cry and when your coworkers or friends ask what's so funny, you can't explain it, you just laugh until they think you've gone insane. I want to be the one to make you smile. I want to talk politics with you and debate the meanings of life and love. I want to develop our own philosophies together. I want to make important and life changing decisions with you.
I want to do favours for you, saying: "Ok…but you owe me," not because I actually want something, it just means I'll get to spend more time with you. I want to get so mad at you sometimes that I end up feeling ashamed of myself and ask for forgiveness even though it actually was your fault. I want you to do the same with me. I want you to roll your eyes at me when I get on your nerves, forcing me to pinch you in retaliation. I want you to pinch me back. I want to get into pinching wars with you. I want you to tell me when I'm doing something wrong or annoying (just so I can pinch you back yet again to get even.) I want to wrestle with you in the living room. I want to land on top and pin you down, and gloat about how I won even though we both know you let me just so you could have a 'nice view'.
I'd like to be able to lay my head on your shoulder not because I'm sleepy, but because I get to be closer to you in a sneaky way. I want you to hug me from behind and seductively kiss my shoulder. I want to bury my face in your neck and tickle you unexpectedly with my eyelashes. I want you to call me an idiot for doing something, followed by: "but for some odd reason I love you anyway." I want to spend an entire Saturday in bed with you. I want to make memories with you; good ones, bad ones, sweet ones, funny ones, ridiculous ones, naughty ones…I just want to share them with you and you alone.
I want to hurt in your absence; I want that pain deep inside my chest. I want to feel like I'm the loneliest person in the world when you're gone. I want the excitement I know I'm bound to feel upon your return. I want the knowledge that I belong to you and you belong to me. I want you to know you always have someone to turn to and I want for us to be together even if some people may not agree with our union. I want the stress and frustration that come with the difficulties in a relationship because it means you come attached. I want you to want to be with me despite all the factors that may be stacked against us. I want to fight those factors with you. I may not want to spend the rest of my life with you just yet, but I want to consider it someday. I want you to want a future. I want to see you succeed in life, not just financially, but I want to see you happy and enjoying life to its fullest. I want the reassurance that you'll live up to your potential and become someone that'd make me even more proud of you than I already am.
I want to experience young love with you. I want for us to go to public places just to see the elderly couples glare at us and bicker about 'the youth of today' with our tattoos and piercings and 'horrid rock music'. I want you to laugh at me when I say 'that'll be us someday'. I want to spend an entire day washing your car only to end up with us dirtier than the car was to begin with. I want to spray you in the face with the hose and then have you chase after me and tackle me to the ground. I want to stay up all night watching horror movies with you until we're both too scared to go to sleep. I want to sit quietly and listen to you sing along to whatever is playing. I don't think anyone could calm me like that the way you do.. I want the songs to make me cry and then have you gently wipe away the tears. I want to jump on you afterwards and take advantage of you (none too gently I might add.) I want you to want me to take advantage of you. I want you to take advantage of me in return.
I want us to sit in comfortable silence while I write about you without your knowledge. I want you to know what I'm actually doing, but stay silent so as not to ruin the moment. I want long talks with you about the dumbest things as in subliminal messaging in cartoons. I want to watch you laugh and smile, and because of this I want to fall in love with you all over again. I want to undress you with my eyes.
I want you to tell me I don't need to wear makeup because I'm beautiful without it even though we both know if I went outside looking the way I do in the mornings I'd scare small children. I want you to talk me out of getting my nose pierced, but end up taking me to get my first tattoo instead. I want to fight over little things with you like what radio station to play or what channel to watch on the TV. I want to argue with you over whether to go to Burger King or KFC until we finally compromise on McDonald's even though neither one of us likes their food. I want to hate your video games the way you hate my feminist music. I want you to teach me how to play Mortal Combat only to have me accidentally beat you. I want to laugh at you while you rant about 'beginner's luck' and say: 'it was a fluke'. I want to get competitive with you. I want to place bets with you over random things.
I want to go dancing with you. I want you to be overprotective of me and make sure I don't get run over by a hoard of drunk guys. I want to get into an argument in the middle of the place over some stupid or meaningless thing. I want the make-up sex afterwards when we get home. I want your friends to like me, I want to like them. I want to watch your practices. Basically, I want a life with you in it. I want a relationship with nobody but you. I know I'm normally picky and have a lot of faults, but you have touched my heart in a way no one has before and all I want right now is for you to accept me. I will be there for you and I will love you unconditionally because I want to fall in love with you and you alone and I believe you're worth the effort. I believe everyone deserves love, including us, and you're the only one I want to fall in love with.
I want to make you feel loved, accepted, cherished, appreciated, and far more special than you can ever imagine because that's what I want you to mean to me.
Do you want to know what I really want?
I want to be brave enough to tell you everything I have mentioned above....
But instead I will answer your question with a different answer, an answer that wont make you run a mile, an answer that wont expose my true feelings, that wont strip me bare for you too see my true colours, just a simple answer:
"What do you want...?"
"I want ice cream.."
And the world will continue as normal...
Sunday, 22 March 2009
words are intriguing....or is it our intriguing imagination that make words seem intriguing...
Do you want to know what my favourite thing is?
Do you want to know what I like the best?
Words.
Yes. You read that right.
No need to make an appointment with the optician. You don’t have to spend an hour with a psychiatrist. You aren’t going insane!
Yes, I said "words".
So tell your shrink to grow a little and your optometrist to open his eyes, because my guilty secret is out!
I can hide it no longer!
I know there will be much astonishment and many flabbergasted expressions, but this is a catastrophe that I must face…
Right after I revel in my amused reaction to the word “flabbergasted.” Goodness gracious. I want to meet whoever it was that came up with that one. Just have some tea and crumpets for an hour or so. Imagine our conversation! Is that one lump of silly slang, Sir, or two?
I could just go on forever about the awesome magnificence that is “words.” Whether we form them in CAPS or slant the letters to one side or place a line beneath them or brackets [around] them, we can only love each and every word that is scribbled down on paper or expelled into the air on the breath of conversation!
Can you understand it now?
Grasp it?
I'm not so sure. I can see you struggling in the waters of comprehension.
Shall I throw you a line and reel you in? Let’s.
There are all kinds of categories for all kinds of words, you know. Pay attention! I am going to give you a few.
Some words are short.
Some words are rather gargantuan and lengthy in size.
Some are perspicaciously intelligent.
Others are sort a’ dumb.
Words are often pleasantly poetic but also raucously discordant.
Oh, I think I felt a nibble.
I am going to let you in on another secret.
Come closer so I can whisper it into your ear.
You know which words I like the best?
English words.
Uh-oh. We think I scared the fish away with that one.
I’ll have to try some different bait. Really!
Come and contemplate this with me.
In what other language but English can a knight sleep in the night?
Or fight a bear with his bare hands?
Where he can wear not just one sword if he chooses to but two too?
You’re scratching your head. But we can’t stop now!
I must continue to write this with my right hand.
Wait, I am wrong.
No, the right hand is right, right?
Speaking of “wrong,” I have just been bothered with thoughts of words that are wrought with letters that refuse to speak. They are as silent as though they were taught by mimes. Not tot mind you, but taught.
Oh! We caught a big one! A 150 pounder at least. Give or take a few ounces. Or is it oz.? Maybe the wicked witch will tell us which one? I thought this was Kansas but perhaps I am mistaken.
I am quite pleased with myself just now. I am finally opening up to the world. Giving it a glimpse of the glamorous goings-on of my magnificent mind. I hope the world is ready for me.
I wouldn’t want to frighten anyone. I know how very comfortable people are when they are lounging in their comfort zone. I want to tell you not to be scared!
I’ll be loud so you can hear me coming. I promise. Scout’s honor. Honour too.
What? Some people are just so picky. They absolutely must have the right colour. The left one just won’t do. Trust me. I know.
I cut the knot with the knife while kneeling on my knees, but the “k” will never tell.
The fish is starting to jump around in the bucket. I think this is all just too much for my fans to absorb.
Now I feel as unnecessary as the “p” in “coup.” No amount of wishing will make it rhyme with soup.
I’ll have to throw it back. My apologies. Perhaps a drought will save you from drowning.
But only if you spell it write.
Intrigued....
Do you want to know what I like the best?
Words.
Yes. You read that right.
No need to make an appointment with the optician. You don’t have to spend an hour with a psychiatrist. You aren’t going insane!
Yes, I said "words".
So tell your shrink to grow a little and your optometrist to open his eyes, because my guilty secret is out!
I can hide it no longer!
I know there will be much astonishment and many flabbergasted expressions, but this is a catastrophe that I must face…
Right after I revel in my amused reaction to the word “flabbergasted.” Goodness gracious. I want to meet whoever it was that came up with that one. Just have some tea and crumpets for an hour or so. Imagine our conversation! Is that one lump of silly slang, Sir, or two?
I could just go on forever about the awesome magnificence that is “words.” Whether we form them in CAPS or slant the letters to one side or place a line beneath them or brackets [around] them, we can only love each and every word that is scribbled down on paper or expelled into the air on the breath of conversation!
Can you understand it now?
Grasp it?
I'm not so sure. I can see you struggling in the waters of comprehension.
Shall I throw you a line and reel you in? Let’s.
There are all kinds of categories for all kinds of words, you know. Pay attention! I am going to give you a few.
Some words are short.
Some words are rather gargantuan and lengthy in size.
Some are perspicaciously intelligent.
Others are sort a’ dumb.
Words are often pleasantly poetic but also raucously discordant.
Oh, I think I felt a nibble.
I am going to let you in on another secret.
Come closer so I can whisper it into your ear.
You know which words I like the best?
English words.
Uh-oh. We think I scared the fish away with that one.
I’ll have to try some different bait. Really!
Come and contemplate this with me.
In what other language but English can a knight sleep in the night?
Or fight a bear with his bare hands?
Where he can wear not just one sword if he chooses to but two too?
You’re scratching your head. But we can’t stop now!
I must continue to write this with my right hand.
Wait, I am wrong.
No, the right hand is right, right?
Speaking of “wrong,” I have just been bothered with thoughts of words that are wrought with letters that refuse to speak. They are as silent as though they were taught by mimes. Not tot mind you, but taught.
Oh! We caught a big one! A 150 pounder at least. Give or take a few ounces. Or is it oz.? Maybe the wicked witch will tell us which one? I thought this was Kansas but perhaps I am mistaken.
I am quite pleased with myself just now. I am finally opening up to the world. Giving it a glimpse of the glamorous goings-on of my magnificent mind. I hope the world is ready for me.
I wouldn’t want to frighten anyone. I know how very comfortable people are when they are lounging in their comfort zone. I want to tell you not to be scared!
I’ll be loud so you can hear me coming. I promise. Scout’s honor. Honour too.
What? Some people are just so picky. They absolutely must have the right colour. The left one just won’t do. Trust me. I know.
I cut the knot with the knife while kneeling on my knees, but the “k” will never tell.
The fish is starting to jump around in the bucket. I think this is all just too much for my fans to absorb.
Now I feel as unnecessary as the “p” in “coup.” No amount of wishing will make it rhyme with soup.
I’ll have to throw it back. My apologies. Perhaps a drought will save you from drowning.
But only if you spell it write.
Intrigued....
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
I just write....to write
I just write.
I want my fingers to speak in cipher and symbol, in character and punctuation.
I want them to speed across an empty slate, filling it with idea and passion.
I want others to read it, and I want them – for a brief fleeting moment – to see what I see. Understand the world through my eyes, and be brightened, saddened, twisted, bent, gyred, spun, and transformed.
It is not ego that drives me so – there is nothing inside me so great that I must stop at nothing to get it out, no explosion of math and science and passion that threatens to tear me at my seams.
It is not sadness, madness, or gladness that makes me write these things – it isn’t some overwhelming fire of humanity. My life is not a particularly interesting one, my struggles not particularly unique.
And yet – there is something here. Something inside me, chewing away at every thought – fattening like a worm in an apple – driving some arcane wheels in my head.
Turning some dust-covered gears and animating my fingers to write, write, and write.
It is through this writing that you and I can grasp up to the heavens of our own design, and sit for a while, enjoying the gentle passage of time, like two idle lovers caught up in the healthy currents of life.
I can turn to you, and as my fingers speak to you in confidential tones, you can see things. Simple things sometimes, the gentle swell of sea on a shore, the delicate sway of a single strand of grass caught in the wind, eyes shining with starlight.
Complex things too: an ant-hill overflowing with activity, a million times a million engines of desire performing those tasks which define them. I will say: Can you see this all? Isn’t it beautiful? And then you might understand why I write.
Then you might see what it really is that drives me forward, as surely as an electron spins itself into eternity. The ants, the beach, the grass, the people, the laughter, the light, the stars, the everything.
Things which are neither bad, nor good – nor do I wish to ever think in such black and white, love and hate, destroy and create terms. Things, which just are - which in our tremendous winding up of life, we seem to miss.
We don’t treasure those tiny moments of time where the only thing that should matter is that single blade of grass, or that lovers shy glance, or that wave breaking gently on the shore.
Torpid currents of life swirl us into balls of hate and envy, and darkness, and those moments are past. But they give birth to more light and laughter, and we ignore those too – we Hunger too much, we Pain too much. And one might think that my avoidance of the truth – repelling from my words like corresponding magnetic fields – is because I don’t have the truth.
This of course is partially true, just like everything is partially true – just as this phrase itself is partially true. And even before my words swallow themselves in a twisted-eight swirl of infinity – I am still here, and my words still flow, and my purpose still exists.
I don’t write because I mean anything, I don’t write because you mean anything. I write because everything is beautiful and nothing is, simultaneously – as if by a magic that everyone practices but no one understands.
I write because when I write, I trap those lost moments of time like insects in amber, and I hold them up to the brightness and I make available that spark of mankind that is so transient in our busy lives.
I write because I am tired and sad, and frightened and terrible and thirsty. I write because I am happy, joyous and full of love. I write because we are all those things, all of us in our own ways, and because this is one of the few ways in which I may drive it off for a while. One of the few ways I can say Hello to the specter of death that hangs over every dew-drop that hasn’t yet been born, that wreathes me in a crown of my own thorns, and whispers to the sun in words of violet and orange.
I write because it allows me to cheat death at least for one more day, to proclaim in my own little, tiny, fleeting voice that everyone can be a beacon, can be a light in the planes of bleakness, and can Shepard their brothers through the valley of darkness.
Most of all, I just write...to write.
Sue, '09.
I want my fingers to speak in cipher and symbol, in character and punctuation.
I want them to speed across an empty slate, filling it with idea and passion.
I want others to read it, and I want them – for a brief fleeting moment – to see what I see. Understand the world through my eyes, and be brightened, saddened, twisted, bent, gyred, spun, and transformed.
It is not ego that drives me so – there is nothing inside me so great that I must stop at nothing to get it out, no explosion of math and science and passion that threatens to tear me at my seams.
It is not sadness, madness, or gladness that makes me write these things – it isn’t some overwhelming fire of humanity. My life is not a particularly interesting one, my struggles not particularly unique.
And yet – there is something here. Something inside me, chewing away at every thought – fattening like a worm in an apple – driving some arcane wheels in my head.
Turning some dust-covered gears and animating my fingers to write, write, and write.
It is through this writing that you and I can grasp up to the heavens of our own design, and sit for a while, enjoying the gentle passage of time, like two idle lovers caught up in the healthy currents of life.
I can turn to you, and as my fingers speak to you in confidential tones, you can see things. Simple things sometimes, the gentle swell of sea on a shore, the delicate sway of a single strand of grass caught in the wind, eyes shining with starlight.
Complex things too: an ant-hill overflowing with activity, a million times a million engines of desire performing those tasks which define them. I will say: Can you see this all? Isn’t it beautiful? And then you might understand why I write.
Then you might see what it really is that drives me forward, as surely as an electron spins itself into eternity. The ants, the beach, the grass, the people, the laughter, the light, the stars, the everything.
Things which are neither bad, nor good – nor do I wish to ever think in such black and white, love and hate, destroy and create terms. Things, which just are - which in our tremendous winding up of life, we seem to miss.
We don’t treasure those tiny moments of time where the only thing that should matter is that single blade of grass, or that lovers shy glance, or that wave breaking gently on the shore.
Torpid currents of life swirl us into balls of hate and envy, and darkness, and those moments are past. But they give birth to more light and laughter, and we ignore those too – we Hunger too much, we Pain too much. And one might think that my avoidance of the truth – repelling from my words like corresponding magnetic fields – is because I don’t have the truth.
This of course is partially true, just like everything is partially true – just as this phrase itself is partially true. And even before my words swallow themselves in a twisted-eight swirl of infinity – I am still here, and my words still flow, and my purpose still exists.
I don’t write because I mean anything, I don’t write because you mean anything. I write because everything is beautiful and nothing is, simultaneously – as if by a magic that everyone practices but no one understands.
I write because when I write, I trap those lost moments of time like insects in amber, and I hold them up to the brightness and I make available that spark of mankind that is so transient in our busy lives.
I write because I am tired and sad, and frightened and terrible and thirsty. I write because I am happy, joyous and full of love. I write because we are all those things, all of us in our own ways, and because this is one of the few ways in which I may drive it off for a while. One of the few ways I can say Hello to the specter of death that hangs over every dew-drop that hasn’t yet been born, that wreathes me in a crown of my own thorns, and whispers to the sun in words of violet and orange.
I write because it allows me to cheat death at least for one more day, to proclaim in my own little, tiny, fleeting voice that everyone can be a beacon, can be a light in the planes of bleakness, and can Shepard their brothers through the valley of darkness.
Most of all, I just write...to write.
Sue, '09.
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