Monday, February 25, 2013

An angel



I will start with half a book review and continue on the same lines and basically the same idea.

 
I am gonna start off with a half a book review and continue on the same idea
      Anyone ever read 'Mister God, this is Anna'? If you haven't you should. Not that I have any right to say that. I started reading this book in late 2011. At that time the book's philosophy was too deep for most eleven year olds to understand, even for me who had read several books meant for ages far above. I reached up to chapter three, then felt extremely skeptical about all the characters and quit reading. I had too many questions, all of which were being left unanswered. And I left those questions as they were and deposited the book somewhere in my study table. Three months later, we were moving. My mom was asking, nah begging me to clean up my table and pack whatever I wanted to take along. I lazily got to work and took my own sweet time browsing through every single piece of paper, useful or otherwise. Then while staring at some extremely old and useless exam papers I found that book again and started to read it then and there. But I was interrupted by my mum. Again I let the book be. Now almost one year later that I have started reading the book again. And I am halfway through. Now I've got you thinking ' How the hell can a person write a review without reading it completely?'. And here is the answer. Half that book is better than most completely read books. The child in it, Anna sees God in such a sense that he could be anybody. The milkman, your neighbor, an uncle or maybe even a best friend. She just lives up to eight years of age but makes her life more worthwhile than any of us living up to hundred could. And the best part about the book is how it starts, "“The difference from a person and an angel is easy. Most of an angel is in the inside and most of a person is on the outside." 

So is the difference between the 'angel' and 'person' this easy? Can any person be an angel if they find the inner themselves and be pure? We are all petty beings fighting over the simplest and most trivial thing and making fusses over nothing at all.  But this girl with her charismatic personality and beautiful ideals figured it all out. So what does being angelic mean to you? Being perfect or being good? Tell me what you think and 'jäähyväiset'. (Finnish)

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Messed up!

Imagine a piece of paper. Very thin paper. Now imagine taking it and crumpling it. Now that's what i am right now. Aaargh I have 2 days of holidays and I don't have any imagination left inside me. There are sometimes when I just feel knotted up. Mixed up. Jumbled up. Turned inside out. I have humongous ideas, just no means of getting them to work. I am simultaneously writing two books, one essay, a couple of poems that don't make sense even to me, a blog post which just seems too boring no matter how I put it and also abiology project, set theory and exams looming overhead. My mum is threatening to take my computer away from me and my friends are getting nagging. I am also hating the fact that i am so damn self-pitying. I think only the more privileged among us complain. And I am not even planning on elaborating that topic.
        I am a nut in a shell. I don't mean the crazy 'nuts'. I don't even understand how that makes sense. I mean if you are in a nut it should mean that you are something useful but cannot break out of your shell without force being applied by someone else. All of us are born with a default shell. Its just that some crack it to easily without anybody's help. Okay, I take that right back. Everybody always needs somebody's support. But some just decide to spend the rest of their life in that casing, rotting and dying away.And sometimes I feel like being like them. Sometimes when the world is just too cruel. Not to me but to others who I love or even those I don't know. I don't want to be great in their misery, don't want to be happy while others mourn. I feel like just shutting away the world, being mediocre and not doing anything great. But is it really a choice or is it assigned to you? Can you make an unexpected change surprising even yourself? I know, I know I sound like some guidance councilor  or something but I had nothing else to write about and this sounded kinda cool in my head. So everybody just love yourself and break the shell. And some comments will do me great. I am not receiving many. Thanks for reading. 'Adijo'. (Slovenian)
Quit building a shell around yourself.

 

Saturday, February 16, 2013

I have no idea what to name this

I don't know what to write. I have my personal alarm clock for writing blog articles(in my mind of course) . But sometime I have to keep pushing snooze till I am sure to be late to write an article . I have a million ideas in my mind but all of them are just too tied up together. Saw that title up there? I am jumbled up . Its gonna take a couple of days to get everything un-knotted and in an order but I am gonna write something down. Valentines day was over a couple of days ago. Basically I think its the worst thing on this planet. I was thinking about anything but it on that day. My horrible timetable on 14th Feb, 2013.

4:50 am - Wake up
5:00 am - Kick off physics project I have to submit that day
6:30 am - Realize that I am getting late for school and my physics is nowhere complete
7:10 am - Pull on socks and dash to reach my school van which is in shambles ( Literally. That thing is 10 years old. Or so we guess. Its probably more.)
7:40 am - Reach school and continue my physics
7:50 am - Get frantic when the English teacher asks me to distribute books and dropping the very same books on my feet.
8:00 am - Finish distributing. Half books on floor. Continue physics.
8:02 am - Sent down for assembly and crying on shoulder of friend.
8:20-9:30 am - Have a mid-morning siesta without getting caught.
9:40 am - Painful karate.
..............snore( indicates sleeping and dozing off)
1:10 pm - Hit head on the floor during special Karate. ( I and a couple of other girls got selected fro special karate program after Republic day program. Cool, I guess.)
............... ( That does not mean blacking out)
1:30-2:10 pm - Skip lunch to finish physics.
2:12 pm - Barely finish it. Throw it at teacher and run to ground for PT. Play throwball in 32 degree Celsius sun.
2:50 pm - Malayalam ( Our regional language. Its a palindrome (i.e. spells same no matter from which direction you read it)
4:30 pm - Home, heavenly, beautifully home!!!!!!! Wooohooooo! ;)
4:31 pm - Go to sleeeeeeeeeeep.
.
.
.
See, what I meant. My life is too busy. And I am not even in high school. Poor me. Poor Indian student. This is just one day of my life. And I didn't even bother studying for the test I had on the next day. I am exhausted       from just reading this and the fact that its almost 12 am when I writing this. 'Despedida.' (Galician)

Saturday, February 9, 2013

A poem

Once I was having a sleepover with two of my best friends. Quite late into the night, when both had slept I grabbed a book, my MP3(It always gives me inspiration to write) and a leftover piece of chocolate. Wrapping a blanket around myself I started to think what to write. I knew very clearly what it was going to be but i am not very good with poems. But the idea would lose its essence if it was not a poem. I was debating whether or not to ask one of my other best friend who is a good poet to write it for me. But then inspiration struck. I scribbled down whatever came into my mind before it disappeared. Only problem I had to name it same as the blog. I think it is a good poem compared to my others. So enjoy!

                                                      Cascades Of  Dreams
                                                                                       - By me



                                   
The haunting flow of dreams goes on                                                                                                                                                                                                                 It brings back memories I try to drown.                                                                                                                                                                                                   Those days of fear and suppression,                                                                                                                                                                                                               When they told you that you wouldn’t fly,                                                                                                                                                                             Where they tried to sever your wing,                                                                                                                                                                                              But when the cascade flows it can’t be                                                                                                                                                                                                         Stopped, as it goes on and on                                                                              
.    
When you plunge into the river                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Know that it never pauses, never stops.                                                                                                                                                                                                          Know that there is nothing to hold on to.                                                                                                                                                                                      To survive you better know how to navigate                                                                                                                                                                  Through the turbulent waters of life                                                                                                                                                                                             Despite the callous weeds of misery puling you down                                                                                                                                                         For it brings up times you would disregard.                                                                                                                                                                                                    As the cascade flows on.                                                                                             


So 'slán'. (Irish)