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| Because people want to save you from things
discomforts, disasters
what they imagine are the avoidable risks
but that morning in the drizzle
I set out anyway
and as I rode, those sweet drops
took down down the spring blossoms
like confetti, like a quiet little parade
like a blessing
just for me.
a poem by maya stein. | | |
| pulling group online all-nighters is not all it's cracked up to be. i'm starting to loathe projects.
exams are in four weeks, and i have a ton to do.
there are times when i feel a sudden rush of affection for my family. despite the tantrums and the conflict that naturally arise when you have a stubbornness that's so inherent it's practically hereditary, i accept them, and them me (as far as i know). today, i felt it while eating dinner. for one thing, everyone was quietly enjoying a pizza. for another, everyone was quiet. i could hear myself think quite coherently, which doesn't happen often while i'm around people. but during those times, i realize - and i'm just as astonished every time - that i can think well while around them. not when they're yelling, but even when they're discussing. i don't need to plan what i'm saying, or censor it as much. this is a pretty big deal for me.
is it just me, or do tired faces and/or postures make for the most expressive portrait of a person? i see more in exhaustion than i ever will in a smile.
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| exams were over yesterday. weirdly enough, i walked out of the exam hall to hear everyone say, we've 16 hours of free time before the next day begins. all i could think was, you guys actually counted? it was what i said, too, when i was told to enjoy my 16 hours. everyone's response was, no, that's what --- said. i never did get to find out who --- was, but when i decided, for the fun of it, to see if it was really 16 hours of fun i had left, i found out they were actually 17.
naturally, i went home as soon as i could, opened a movie, and started watching. the next thing i knew, my face was feeling bruised at best, butchered at worst, due to faceplanting on my desk. sleep during exams is almost a no-no the way it's done here.
the remaining time was spent reading three different books, an accomplishment i haven't pulled off in a year and a half (when the challenge was finding the books). the last book i fell asleep reading, and even worried about the ending while unconscious. what the hell's with that? which brings me to the first goosebumps book i ever read and incidentally, the one that had me hating the idea of not knowing what the ending is. i hate cliffhangers; honestly, why would anyone go to the trouble of creating characters, giving them personality, wit, and life on a page, only to decide that's it's worthless enough to leave wandering around in Story Universe or worse, place them in the dubious trust of others? i've realized that i prefer an ending, even a horrible, gruesome, sick one, to a cliffhanger. it's not the suspense; it's just, every time i read a book the characters are dead to me by the end of the story. leaving them without the ending makes me confused, at best.
...
If you were exchanged in the cradle and
your real mother died
without ever telling the story
then no one knows your name,
and somewhere in the world
your father is lost and needs you
but you are far away.
He can never find
how true you are, how ready.
When the great wind comes
and the robberies of the rain
you stand on the corner shivering.
The people who go by –
you wonder at their calm.
They miss the whisper that runs
any day in your mind,
“Who are you really, wanderer?”
and the answer you have to give
no matter how dark and cold
the world around you is:
“Maybe I’m a king.”
whose reason?
what fights with us is so large. what we choose to fight is so small.
... | | |
| exams have started. practicals end next week, then it's all the written tests for three days.
i'm reading memoirs of a geisha. although i don't think i will ever finish it at the rate i'm going; every time i'm well into the paragraph, everything i have to finish comes to mind. the frazzled feeling stays until i work. so there's that. maybe in two weeks, it'll be better. so far, i'm convinced that the book is filled with cruel, manipulative, cowardly characters. at the same time, there's the emphasis on physical beauty, the real money, time, and effort that go into, say, the kimono and the makeup. too much hassle, honestly. still, i like the book.
...
ring the bells that still could ring
forget your perfect offering
there is a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in
... | | |
| since eid, it's been as though i can barely hold myself together. it's not a confidence but a necessity that drives me to speak up and out. i've lost all feelings of control (is this what happens when you're at the end of your tether every other day?)
it's ironic that i do this now because there's nothing that i can express right, and no one to understand if i do. english is my language of happiness, of anger, of expression, basically. they speak another one. why did this happen when all that is understood is gibberish?
...
It is no good, dear, gentleness and forbearance, I endured too long.
I have pushed my hands in the dark soil, under the flower of my soul
And the gentle leaves, and have felt where the roots are strong
Fixed in the darkness, grappling for the deep soil's little control.
And there is the dark, my darling, where the roots are entangled and fight
Each one for its hold on the oblivious darkness, I know that there
In the night where we first have being, before we rise on the light,
We are not brothers, my darling, we fight and we do not spare.
... | | |
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