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what, no cookies?
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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Design: doughnutcrazyIcon: morphine_kissed |
bound to be free
the running figure--right leg bent at the knee, thigh forward and muscles out (she'd say fat, definitely), left leg a couple centimeters above the ground in mid-motion- -yellow high boots- -yellow raincoat- -yellow wide-brimmed hat- -THERE'S NOTHING LIKE NICH- -there's nothing like the PS3 either. came uber close to actually owning one today, again. at times like this, I'm starting to think Nietzsche might have been right about Hope and its futility- -left arm up in harmony with right leg, fists clenched, relaxed hold- -coat ends just above knee-level- -coat made of something like plastic. minimum crease- -watched Inception again today and could not help but notice that Aliaa was spot on about Arthur and Eames- -hair a-flying, that beautiful mess frozen on paper- God, I want to draw. But I need to stop procrastinating so bad. Oh, and I smell syrup. Yes, that cheap red syrup thing that 2nd RC serves for Tuesday lunches. It smells awfully refreshing right now, though. So want. I also miss the smell of Natsume; grass and country air mixed with fresh boy-ish sweat. I want to smell. Smell. Smell. Pn Arb and En Syamsol wake up every morning wishing for something more than going to work just to bully dental students. Pn Arb secretly wants people to know that once she gets those horn-rimmed glasses off, she's Superwoman with shocking pink undies over them leotards. En Syamsol is... well. He's something alright. -she's breaking into a run, but she's in no hurry for anything. she's suspended in air, but the drop in her knee suggests gravity. she is, but she isn't- -dreams made broken- -intentionally made tacky- Holiday Post
Have finally managed to drug self to finish watching Mr Cameron's Avatar. While the movie is not as bad as my family made it out to be, it's nothing beyond the level of typical Marvel movies. I christen it as Blue Pocahontas, pun intended. There is nothing freakier than four feet tall aliens making out in a radioactive, fluorescent garden of-Oh goodie, the ceiling is leaking again. God is probably telling me to stop making fun of other people's hard work, and He'd probably add, 'You lazybum, teehee,' at the end there. Okay, I'll stop that thought short. But in all honesty, nothing amazes me more than Hollywood script and their predictability. Ironic. Throughout the film, my mind was running parallels between Avatar, Disney's Pocahontas and the infamous Iraq war. Did anybody else notice that Avatar even had the swimming in the river bit, except it got cut short because otherwise, Disney lawyers are really going to make Avatar the priciest film there is, and not in the way Mr Cameron intended it to be. The Eywa concept was very interesting though. Irregardless of what Shar and Aaron claim me to be, I am a religious person, and my views are painted as thus, although I do try to keep my perspective in the objective. A point that they brought up with the Eywa is that it is biological. It has substance, reasoning, and therefore it exists. My thoughts are then focused on Alissa's fixation that I watch the movie for myself, and I suppose this may have been her reason as to why. Well, it's an interesting thought. Perhaps I'll continue this line of thinking in another time. But still, a thought nonetheless. Having the netbook on my bed is certainly making the Internet an extremely comfortable past-time. Even so, there are also delicious books here waiting to be read. There's Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 (ooh, would love to write something about this one! hahaha, Americans really are funny), Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl and the Time Paradox. My curiousity for the philosophical world also drew me to Sophie's World by a Norwegian author whose name I'm probably pronouncing wrongly, Jostein Gaardner, John Connolly's The Book of Lost Things (wonderful read) and a lot of classics and a couple of manga. Ah yes, it's going to be a great holiday. As long as I don't get called for supplementary, which if I do, then direct me to guillotine, sir! Labels: books, rants, religion 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. |