Thursday, May 30, 2013

The sorry uses of sorry

Oh well. I am late. But this time I purposely delayed it because I was thinking about an idea for a new book. WIth the idea dumped in a trash and me sick as a dog I really was not in the mood to write.I have this horrible cold and that too right before the school starts. I mean my body had an entire two months of awful summer to get sick in and now when the climate has cooled up after a couple of rains I am sick. It sucks. And yes I am sorry for being a complaint box. Which reminds me of today's topic.
Yes, sorry is the most overused words we know of. And also so the one which is most inappropriately used. You make a mistake. Its alright when you say that you are sorry for it. But when you repeat the mistake then its pointless. It breaks trust. It is pointless. There are two waqys of misusing sorry.
A) By saying it too much
B) By saying it for things you didn't know
 The first one just gets boring. I mean okay I didn't do something: 'Sorry, I will do it tomorrow'. Then the same thing the next day and the next.
And the second one is unnecessary. If somebody's dad died you offer your condolences. Why apologize? Its not your fault that they passed away. Unless something is truly connected to your mistake don't say sorry. Save the word from misuse.
It will be important sometime and by the time that situation comes that word may not be anything more that any mere word. So anyways I am sorry for being unable to write a long post. I am sick. So till next time, 'kas nors nesvarbus'. (Lithunian)

Friday, May 24, 2013

Footprints


I see several footprints in the dust. They lead to different places, to different stories, to different lives. I  cannot follow any for the wind erases those marks when I try to pursue them. I also cannot see the marks that I make for they are left for others to see and know and believe that no matter what happens, life goes on. It tells me and them that I can't try to follow any path other than mine and that I am the captain of my own ship of fate.  And it tells us not to stop anywhere until life do us part.
      In the barefooted prints of the poor man I see the cracks of his life, slowly disintegrating. He struggles to eat one square meal, yet he doesn’t give up not until the last straw fails. He will not worry about anything other than the immediate tomorrow. There is but little hope for him. The winds of  time will forget him soon enough. The winds of time will forget him when he is gone.
Then in the tracks left by the pair of broken, secondhand footwear I see the owner's worries. He is anxious about his children, his health and the fearful prospect of future. He has but few securities. He doesn't have a sound future but he will continue trudging the way till his end. The winds of time will not remember him for long either. He will die away.

The footprints of the shoes of the busy executive hold several secrets and even more anxieties. He worries about his promotions, his fussy wife and the prices of the stock-market. He fears tomorrow. He will be wiped away like sand by the winds of time. It won't take too long.
The pencil heels of the rich woman desperately trying look young tell stories of deception and doubt. She has cheated many. She has fears. She needs her money to survive and in some ways is still trying to turn time back. She is disgusted by a dirty beggar. She pays no heed to the middle aged worried middle aged looking man or the businessman in the crisp ironed suits. She lives for herself. Her tale won't be repeated for long. She too will disappear with time.
There is an unknown man hidden in the shadows, all alone. There is a farmer worried about rains. There is a old grandmother deserted by her off-spring. There is a woman worried about her weight. There is small boy who wants a new toy. But they too will go.
Then? Then there is me. I  am young. I have a long way to go. My tracks still have a long way to go. My story may be told to others, or it may not be. But I will go on. I will go on for others to see that I can. I have ‘miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep’. 'さようなら' (Japanese)

Monday, May 20, 2013

Watching

Hey everybody. Late again. Yeah I know but I had no inspiration. And I can't seem to write a single sentence properly. I just deleted half a post I had written right now and classified it as trash. And I am worried as to whether I am out of ideas. I can't be running out of ideas. That isn't fair. And as I wait to get something workable with I am running out of time. Oh, bulls eye! I hit an idea! I will tell you about a hobby of mine.
So don't think its the normal 'play a piano' or 'read a book' thing. Its rather more interesting. And more fun and informative. So what is the weird hobby of mine? Observing people. Anybody. I don't care if it is an infant or a  forty-five year old woman. This is quite hard, you know. First of all you have to make sure nobody catches you staring at them. If they do make sure you are bold enough to stand the awkwardness. But otherwise it is the easiest thing possible. There is so much to learn about a person. You can know so much more about them by watching what their wear, how their mood is, maybe what they read and how they socialize. In fact sometimes it is almost like reading a book. I have seen some really entertaining characters (Courtesy- the amount of traveling I have done). Some of them I have observed in close detail and others from farther away. And some of them have taught me some things. For example it was my best friend (I still don't understand that crazy girl) who taught me that being uncool was cool. Also, an old woman we saw while we were traveling in Singapore who gave my little brother a packet of chocolates without even knowing us taught me that kindness doesn't always come from people who love or even know you. That was a random act of kindness. And what did she earn by it? A little thank you? No, she got more. She stole a place in all our minds. So by learning about other people, you know more about the challenges you may have to face. The sight of the bed-ridden woman next-door tells me that sometime in the future it could be me. Her spoilt son tells me (metaphorically) that I have the capability to break some people. And watching everybody tells me that everybody has a story to tell. I am not the only one and that sometimes I have to listen to what those suppressed tales have to tell me. 'Vale'. (Latin)

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

A little piece of me

Hello all. I am a day late for today's post. I was traveling (still am actually) and have just managed to wrench the computer out of my cousin's hands. And I realized a thing while going through my recent posts. None of them were good enough, not even up to the standards of a crazy teen. So today I thought maybe I would write a little about myself
I am kind of a daredevil of my class. That doesn't mean I climb up trees or fist-fight or anything. I would leave that to my best friend. But in some ways I sometimes represent people. When my group or something connected to me gets in trouble I take responsibility. If a teacher asks us to meet him or her I go in first and talk to them. I am one of  the only girls who can make the lazy people do some work. I make everybody put their noses to their grinding stone. Whether its a little class presentation or an exhibition I do anything to make it good. Also I take the blame if anything goes wrong. Usually people hate me for making them do the work. They think I am just awful. They think I am the teacher's pet. They think I am made up of stone and don't care about anyone other than myself. And then they make my life a little miserable. I know that a couple of my present classmates may read this and think I am exaggerating. They won't if they had followed me through my life. I have been hurt many times. But then I pull through the change. The previous school I attended made life hell for me. I was an outcast but still since my teachers liked me was in-charge of some important things. People didn't cooperate and made it clear that nothing I did would make them like me. They even made some untruthful complaints about me. But then the teacher didn't believe it. Somebody trusted me atleast and then I continued. I finished the year and to great delight returned to the school I really loved. Here again with the odds stacked against me I lived. Though it was a close cut.
I love my life. The number of times I have to go through change is far more numerous than anybody else I have met. It gave me\ knowledge. And then I know far more than them.
Now I have put you all in a bit of melancholy. I am happy. If I were without these troubles my life would be perfect. And I hate perfect. Its too good for me. So anyways 'Agur' (Basque)

Saturday, May 11, 2013

a 'Good' meal

Okay now wait, don't think I am going to write about some restaurant or some meal I have eaten or the maker of the meal or anything. You should have noted the quotations next to the Good and the capitals I gave that word up in the heading. Today I am feeling quite crazy and have several jumbled up thoughts. So I have mixed several thoughts of mine about 'goodness' (You know - Be good, help people, etc.etc) and have served in front of you. Please enjoy! 
First Course
The hardest thing in this world is to be good. No, I don't mean the perfect, angelic goody-two-shoes type of good. I mean the normal and sound ‘good’.  Life gives us several opportunities, almost always for the better.  But if you ignore those pathways of light and take the wrong back alley, well the only thing life can do is sit and watch as your life crashes down, eventually it will. Life is helpful but in the end you are the one who has control over it and how you want to use it. But not trust the trust that you break by being 'ungood'. Trust shatters the moment it falls. And when it breaks it is impossible to pick up the pieces again. So by not being good it not only ruins you but also others. 
Second course
You can pick how good you want to be. Either you can donate three-fourths of what you earn to orphans or you can help an old woman with her shopping bags. You can pick the amount of goodness you carry in yourself. It can't be measured but others will feel it. But I will tell you that it will most certainly give you happiness. Being good brings happiness.  (Is this getting too cheesy?)
Third Course
So recently my best friend asked me a question (via internet) '  If the world had good in it, would bad have to be there?'. I stood on top of my head trying to find an appropriate reply. I didn't respond but realized on how many different levels this single question can be answered. The first thing that came into my mind was Newton's 'To every action there is always an equal and opposite reaction'.  Then I thought about answering some philosophical dump. Then I stopped thinking and observed my younger brother. He is usually angelic but a little devil at times. But if I were asked whether he is good or bad my answer will be good. It is not that he has never done bad things. But maybe his good qualities were better. So I realized that good and bad coexist in us. There will be some bad in every good. Someone's gain may be someone else's loss. 
Dessert
Okay that's it. I am not torturing you anymore. So anyway hope you liked the 'meal'. Anyways 'zdravo'. (Bosnian)

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Drops


You know what brings me happiness? Rains.
To some it means the squelching of boots. To small kids it means a chance to show off their new umbrellas and pretty  raincoats. To their mothers it says of forever wet clothes and diseases. To the daddies it means getting stuck in traffic jams and getting late. To the farmer it brings sights of young stalks of green rice slowly raising their heads. To his children it brings hopes of second-servings and maybe a new dress or doll. And to me? To me it brings chances. A chance to wipe away all my mistakes. A chance to eat lunch with my friend by the window of our class and not have to talk to communicate. A chance to lay my head on the cold glass window and watch the great big drops splash. A chance to throw away my umbrella and dance in the rain. 
And most importantly to smell the rain.
‘The smell of rain’. Some of you may have been mystified by that imagery. Rain doesn’t smell of anything, right? Wrong. I used to think that it just smelled like wet dirt. But then there is so much more than that. There is the aroma of the earth cooling down. Another one is the whiff of a plant germinating. There is the perfume of the newly-bloomed flower. And there is the scent of hope. It’s beautiful.
Or you can hear the rain. Or see the rain. But you can't be idle. There is a feast for the senses when it rains. I take idyllic strolls after a huge storm. You can sense the improvement in the moods of all those who had been driven to the point of madness by the heat. Although some of you still might still dislike rain, I feel it is the most beautiful thing to experience.  Right now while I am waiting for the great black clouds that are floating about to release their burden, those of you who have rain right now throw open your windows.  Let in the drops of happiness. Let the smell of earth teach you a little more about life. Let those drops fall into your hands. And most importantly 'Always remember to dance in the rain.' (Holly Jameston)
                           
'Nanamilit'. (Cebuano)

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Me, the Superhero


Hello. I am back. So as I am tired of travelling right now I am just posting something I wrote a few days ago. I will go back to posting every three days. So now my post:
Sometimes when I watch dystopian movies or anime or read similar books I have a tiny desire. In almost everything of this genre we see several people die. I just feel that if a similar scene occurs I don't want to be a part of the first victims. I don't want to die without being important, without reason or being known. I would like to fight or something, not just get zombified immediately. I know we all have or still imagine ourselves as some kind of superhero. My New Year resolution when I was 5 was to become a fairy when I grow up. Silly but it explains human psychology pretty well. We all make ourselves the protagonists of our stories. At least few dozen writers can take credit to that. We self-upgrade ourselves to heroes.  We write about how we would have reacted in a similar consequences. We improve our characters and give that personality to the character. We…oh you get  the flow, right? So coming back to what I was saying, I want to be important. I don't want to die the second Martians land on the planet. I don't just want to sink immediately in the Titanic. I  don't want to be killed by a bomb before a battle starts. I just can’t be in the background.
That hardly is my definition of 'Superhero' me
        I often picture myself in the place of some main character of something, mostly female. But I just cannot consider myself being a damsel-in-distress. Neither can I see myself as a brusque, extremely powerful, withdrawn girl. I can’t be Snow White. I am not looking for a prince. And I am not dumb enough to eat an apple from a stranger. Neither am I going to be a hockey stick accompanied delinquent. I am more of an Alice in Wonderland. In my fantasies being me is good enough. I am strong enough, pretty enough and good enough. Not girly but not boyish either. Just being me feels perfect.  It just tells me that sometimes its best to be me rather than a ninja girl. Though being a ninja might help once in awhile its cooler to be me. (Hello, what am I talking about? I thought I hated being me. I guess subconsciously I am befriending the unfriendly half of me.)
That is more like it!
I have my own superhero tales. My chemistry teacher inadvertently becomes villainous. My best friend is my sidekick and my anime hero (Ichigo from Bleach if you want to check him out) is the guy who saves when I almost get sprayed by evil, chemistry-ish thingamajig. I have magic powers. It is my tale. I dream what I  want. And in my story being me is what saves me. I am me. I am my superhero. I am ‘Me, the Superhero’. So 'Undang'. (Malay)