Saturday, March 28, 2009

Rays of sunshine

I found out that there's a lot of reason to keep on smiling. Even on the darkest day. Even if you have a lot of hateful things to do. (such as faking your own self for NUR 4213 subject). You just need to turn it around and try to enjoy the stupid and insensible things they are forcing you to do. Somehow, you just have to look out and try to see that there's always rays of sunshine peeking through the tree leaves.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Diamonds or coals

Have I got everything I want? No, I haven't.
I feel so tired. I have climb all the way to a mountain top and come back down with my back loaded with coals.
Where have all the diamonds gone? Did I left them on the way? Or did I forgot to bring it all with me?
My face and hands are smeared with coal. My whole body screams with pain and exhaustion.
Was it worth it? Is this what's left of me? Had all of the effort gone wasted?
Should I climb back and search for what I've lost along the way? Can I make it for the second time? Do I still have the energy?
...Why didn't I be meticulous at the first place?...

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

The battle of mind, matters and time

All of the burdens, confusions and nuisances of my days are buzzing in this brain of mine. Sometimes it feels like there is too little space to fit all the vital matters in. Sometimes it seems that the space is too vast and wasted considering how little and unimportant the matters that seem to be seriously pondered by me.

The time moves so swiftly, all I can see is blurry images of people, things and events of passing days. I must be fast, I know. Yet, the harder I tried, the slower I felt I become.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

"She wondered what he knew, what he sensed in her. Think you're good-lookin'? Rose did not know if she was good-looking, though there were days, like today, when she was pleased enough. Recently she had applied for a passport and surprised herself by not knowing what to write on the form. Her hair was ordinary brown, but how to describe the mucky nothing of her eyes. Blueish-grey with gold flecks? A few green bits?

'What colour', she said to William, 'are my eyes?'"

(Anne Enright, What are you like?)