Tuesday, November 10, 2009

A Letter to a Red Rose

As if to climb stairs, your plight weaves itself. One must keep going up but is forced back by the resistance and gravity too, is not subtle with his grip. Never mind, thrust it to the back of your mind, red rose, you are moving up.

The slice of the pull does bring about weight, your cry escapes into thin air. One does hear it, does he not? One doesn't know. What could he do, but linger and add another force. Oppression? One can't tell. The other wants stability, one can't throw blame. After all she weeded and watered you. She fertilized you. It is best you look at the robin and do not play.

Hence forth, there will be no more of homing pigeons. Let glorious sun just shine. It is best you look at the robin and do not play.

One has to grow one's leaves and petals to bloom and fall. She does not dilly dally with the watering can and is quick to throw fertilizer. But her eyes may fail, do they not? You told her it was a robin, outside the fence, yet she said, "No, it is a weed."Alas, it is best you look at the robin and do not play.

Ah, look! Thy thorns have arisen. What is this raised ire I see? Who lay on you such wants for emotion that shouldn't be stirred. The robin? No? I say, do not play.

My red rose, sweet red rose. I beseech thee, the gardener loves the rose and fears the robin's wants. Thus, it is best you look at the robin and do not play.

A quickie for the uneasy.

Posts I owe my blog, not you.
  1. The KLCC experience with Pav and Rishi kutty.
  2. NSTP workshops and how cool they are.
  3. Lower 6 in a nutshell.
  4. Swimming in sweet stuff. (Nah!)
  5. All the events like Prefect Annual Dinner and Penang trip and whatever else I missed out.
  6. My new story. Mass marriage.
  7. And whatever that follows....
Till then, I am off to polish MUET essays... hopefully.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

I PASSED!!!

PRAISE THE LORD!
Woohoo!!!
Lalalalala!
(Cue: Victory Dance)
Yee Haw!!!
Lalalalala!
Tralala walawala!
Bing Bang boom!!

Broom...broom... BROOM!!!!

It's all in the 'C'.

Yes, I want to blog.
No, I don't want to blog nonsense.
Yes, I have pictures.
No, they're not in my computer because my C-drive is full.
Yes, you can not ask why.
No, you can not laugh.
Yes, I'll get my boy friend to kick you in the rear if you do.
No, I don't have a boy friend.

Monday, October 26, 2009

High School Never ENDS.

A conversation with a curly haired woman struck a chord in me to write about the statement.
So far in my eighteen years of life on earth, have I never felt like a high school student until stepping into my current school.
Probably its another American adopted concept or just plain stereotyping but these several months and all that has been heard, seen and done seems so, well, childish.
No, I am not putting on my I-am-a-condescending-matured-geek cap, because, after all the mastermind behind hijacking cars is yours truly.
It's just culture shock. No judging, no prejudices but simple comparisons to my 5 year experience in my previous school makes my brain juice boil and simmer.
The change of environment and air is thrilling, but in conclusion and all honesty, I'd much rather the less high school syndrome. Seems less demanding, manipulative and a lot less tiring.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Adam & Eve talk about solitude.

THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL.
It's a joke meant for a friend.

Joke ar... You won't find this in the Bible.
PURELY FICTIONAL!!!

The gentle breeze swept among the trees as Adam and Eve walked along the thickly lush fields of green. Adam walked next to Eve. You could casually call it a scene in a typical romance movie with all the ooo-la-las in the background, but these people were very much in love.

"Is it not lovely to belong to another?" Adam asked, running his fingers through his hair.
Eve was startled. Lately, Adam was being rather sullen and unpredictable as a woman during the time of the month.

"Well, yes. Funny you should mention that?"

Adam brushed it aside. " Lovely, don't you think solitude is just pure torture?"

"Well, yes. That's why God created you and me." Her sweet smile and slight pause did not work the trick. He continued.

"Don't you think that we humans should have people surrounding us, various relationships so as to not allow this disease to have an inch on us?"

"Why yes, Adam," she inched closer, " Why ever not?"

"Sweetheart, I knew you were an opened minded person I could talk to, I knew you could understand me perfectly well."

"When have I never?" She reached in for a hug.

"So, can I introduce to you some of my friends?" From behind a great oak tree, popped out a darling brunette.

"Hunny, meet Eva. She's .." Out from the same tree popped put two others.
"Oh, that's Evangeline and Evangelina. Funny, how I met them. Really. Funny story."

Eve's face begin to twist.

Three others began to slowly make their way towards the already growing crowd.
"Look who's here. The blonde's Evelyn and the red head.."

"Adam." Eve stressed and punctuated. "I never knew, that behind my back... you were... I mean... you too were..."

"You too?" asked Adam, cautiously.

From behind Eve, walked out, cool and calm, a man. "Adam, meet Aidan."

________________ #$#$#$#________________

I bet you're thinking... "What is she up to?" Well, this story is meant for a friend. That person can surely identify with it. Just in case, that person can not... or finds difficulties like that person usually does... (grin*) I am giving TIPS.

Actually, TIP. Not plural. Singular.
The words in italic are the clues as to what seems to be in shades of grey. For now.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Moving on

That was the past. Now, is the present. Where is the justice in this statement?

"Should all acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?"
Auld Lang Syne

Good point.

(Please do not mind the vague commentary that follows, that is if there are any readers).

Back to square one, where one has to readjust and adapt. The surroundings change, the air is new. No sense of belonging, left again to self-cultivate and form itself. Since all were new, it was easier than the previous operation. We're each others rescue team.

Yet, one longs to walk the road in reverse just to get a glimpse of the delectable memoirs. Pity, they are as stale bread and tasteless as water.

Forgive me, some should be kept, others left to dwindle in the wind, remain passing clouds.

With all enthusiasm lost, I am thrown back to square one. Behind those bars, again I grasp, screaming on inwardly.