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you know about the voices that speaks in your head?i listen to them somtimes. most of the times. sometimes they tell me good things. sometimes they make me wish for bad things. |
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it's basically the inside of sakinah's brain.but mercifully edited, censored, and anaesthesised with a heavy dose of prozac. tagboard
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The Old is Not The Young, But The Experienced
Glamour, Glory, Gold.That and more. Wondrous shezzam yo. I've just realized I have nothing to blog about other than the story of some award ceremony involving red carpets, big shot stars (that consequently impend other smaller wannabe local self-acclaimed artists) and those cutesy little golden statuettes. It's called The Academy Awards, or more endearingly referred to as the Oscars. Finally finished reading No Country For Old Men just recently. Was quite surprised when found out that one of Cormac McCarthy's books had been adapted into a movie. Was not quite surprised when found that it was a serious contender for the Oscar's best picture award. The book in itself is a gourmet of thought spiced up by action and suspense. In the end, it cements its' standing as more than just a Western shoot-out. It kinda lost me towards the conclusion however. I just didn't quite get it. But try The Road, from the same author. It's haunting, and will most probably give you nightmares the same way it gave me many restless nights. Now that I think about it, I was probably propelled to finish the book just so I can sleep easy again. It's just that psychologically haunting. mount time
As one takes a closer look outside the window, one sees past the block after block of houses, or the adjacent window of the neighbour back doors. An image conjured from the past slowly takes shape as it overlaps the dreary grey concrete. It is hazy at first, and practically transparent. But it's there.Mountains of sand rose from the ground that changes along with the wind and time, only to be replaced by hardy shrubs poking out shyly to greet the sun. That harsh eye of the sky. Soon trees would grow, and the rain will bring ponds that accumulate to lakes, with river veins connecting it. Together they toil to bring life around them; the trees that feed from the waters, and the waters that swirl at the roots. Soon, the environment progressed to a state where it entices both men and animal to further advance the ecosystem. Firstly misshapen sanctuaries appear to take form in crude wooden huts with even simpler poles of stick shoved into the ground to make way as a cage for the cattle. When natural disasters or man-made wars arrive they are forced to adapt, and the earth was torn apart in search of metal. That hard, adamantine natural resource which man will mould the world with. Along the way man also found yellow metal. Its' glimmer was reflected in mans' eyes, and they greedily took it along with them. And in the continuing, relentless face of modernisation; skyscrapers rose up to meet the sun. That harsh eye of the sky, now challenged. The smog from factories too, creep into brick houses which are sanctuaries in the new day. From the same dirty window I look out, and I see past the buildings that cover the view, or the throngs of crowds moving like giant colonies of ants. I look past the current day, and I see the ever-rising mountain of sand that threatens to swallow all. That is the image of the future. A barren wasteland brought by man's own attempt of surviving. Soon the moutain of sand will be replaced by shrubbery, trees, and lakes. And what was replaced by the sands will come with the cycle of civilisation, glory, destruction, and rebirth. Labels: rants The Typhoon of Unrest
My second day at work and, well, it's not going all that well. I made a bunch of mistakes with my data transfer, forcing my teacher to redo them- while grumbling to herself every now and then. However she has been tremendously sweet to me, and I felt immensely guilty about throwing double the workload on her when I'm supposed to be helping her somewhat. Although it couldn't be helped since I have no experience working in an office whatsoever, and I don't even have the slightest clue as to what sort of information am I feeding Excel. Not to mention the fact that it gets very awkward for me at the workplace makes me desire for another job all the more. Starbucks is sounding more and more like a good idea all the while as my guilt and awkwardness festers and grows.Even so I do not wish to disappoint Abah. Gah, such conflicting thoughts and emotions! On a lighter, bitchier note, I just think that humankind in general is terribly arrogant. Especially the 'Children of Modernisation', myself included. To deny the helping hand of faith in times of strife, swatting it away as the other hand opts for various (other) means of salvation is a common exit route many take as of late, yet to fully discredit God later on at the end of the road is somewhat proof of that arrogance. That is to say it is almost like one denies the niggling conscience at the back of one's mind, the voice that whispers words of encouragement when all else falters. Perhaps this would come out souding trite and, well, preachy, yet one forgets too often that God works His ways such that it's not necessary for man to know of, and not all as it seems is as it is. As a result, the strength of belief locked in the depths of the soul slowly corrodes, eaten away by harsh doubts, the growing skepticism, and replaced by a new concrete yet see-through man-made defenses, built by the much 'critically'-acclaimed experience and new thoughts that one garnered. The sight of a crumbling faith is pathetic, wretched, and ultimately heartbreaking. Yet as a self-acclaimed 'Child of Modernisation', these eyes see the change with a shrug of the shoulders, and a simple bitter smile. Already the darkness of the present age creeps into the mind, blurring ones' judgement, yet clarifying the situation. This is the way the world is. This is the way the world is to be. It's obscure and murky, and shrouded in uncertainty. Fueled perhaps by billions of people on earth witnessing the decay and subsequent downfall of the supposed glorious age of religion, their beliefs are turned elsewhere. Communism, atheism, capitalism, hippy-ism (if there is such a term); all in the hope to fill in that certain part of us which is unseen, undetected, yet felt. The soul. Why does man act the way man does? Why does man choose, instead of accepting? Why is man the way man is? Questions after barrages of questions, endless, unceasing. Questions that drive man to turn to the truth, yet at the same time wrenching the answer out of his hands. Or perhaps; more appropriately, clouding the verdict from his sight. It'd take a miracle to cure man of his arrogance. PS- Yes, I am disappointed. And yet uncaring. Choice has been one of man's many gifts. One man does not decide how another man leads his life. It'd be inhumane. First Post
There isn't any particular reason as for the 'switching-to-Blogspot' deal. Never planning to give up on my Rash account, though I'm deleting Sezo. Thankfully I managed to think up of a creative *puke* account name for this one. It's supposed to be Azarea but one of the thousands of bloggers out there had already taken my fanfiction/fictionpress account name. Rawr. And I was hoping that it's an uncommon name. Right-o, Azarathea; henceforth thou shall labour tirelessly to carry out my rantings and dementia. Labels: rants |