Tagged: life

Never Just About A Boy: Sarah Dessen’s The Moon and More

birdy

This is part of my Summer Reading 2.0 series

I’ve always been a fan of Sarah Dessen; she puts out a bunch of thick novels dubbed as teenage romance. In my early days of high school I saw them as just that, teenage romance novels. But ever since English teachers started pushing me to dissect literature and find deeper meanings, I’ve started to do that, the practice leaking into my leisure reading. Continue reading

The Difference Between Nobles and Serfs

 

Since 18 years ago I’ve slowly witnessed myself oscillating between serfdom and nobility, ending up more noble than serf.

boySerfs are thrifty and don’t like to waste things and concentrate on those sort of details, because that’s all they’ve ever known. I was a kid and I liked to hoard my Rice Krispy Treats and trade them with my sister and I lived my life bar by bar, worrying only about the next immediate Treat, never more than one ahead. Continue reading

My Life is Monotony and I am Doing Nothing About It

color

Where I work, the line can sometimes grow to stretch out the door, especially on a Sunday afternoon.

I immediately learned the importance of efficiency, speaking quickly to customers, having a pen ready before they’ve realized that they even need one…efficiency drives productivity.

As the assembly line chugs along, the rays of the sun grow thinner against the wall and natural lighting wanes. Continue reading

Spring Break rambling

cat
 
It’s Spring Break. I promise you I have negative ability to focus today (Friday), so this is going to be a rambling train of thought in my head as I drifted off in class.

My sister and I used to split up the food that we bought like troops during the war. Three chocolate flavored Rice Krispies for you, and three for me. Actually, I can trade you a chocolate flavored one for a marshmallow flavored one. We used to relish going grocery shopping with the grownups, because as pre-teens, what much else is there to do?

These days, it’s been a few months since I went shopping for groceries. In the midst of life, I have delegated that responsibility solely to my parents and I just walk in and out of the kitchen grabbing what I can find.

Our world, back then, was simple and confined; it stretched only as far as we could travel for two hours or so on the highway. That was the universe that we knew. Continue reading

7 things about dealing with death

happiness

7. When you get the news, you want to reflect on their life.

You’re forced to voluntarily remember little details about them that are resurfacing now. You’ll want to put them somewhere, so you never forget them.  Continue reading

The Daily Routine

She sits in a movie theatre and watches the main character die
from the last row 
from the left most seat
a tragic death that seems to shake the entire audience
except her. The movie ends and she descends the steps
   one by one
      impassive
         stoic
            her face is dry.

She comes back and sits in her bed
She sits in the silence and watches another movie
whose screen exists between pages of a book
a spine whose binding is flimsy.

sniffle sniffle

She starts to cry
for people she's never met
whose faces she has never seen
whose parents she has never met
whose hands she has never held

That's compassion for humanity.

Her hands are bloody
the skin are her nails is destroyed
from stress and agitation.

He holds them firmly and says
I love you despite your flawed hands.
hesitates, backtracks, and recants his words
I love you for your flawless hands
and your capricious emotions
and the way you deal with your feels
that your hands display the message
receive the clemency.

She goes back to the kitchen
tea or coffee?
glass or mug?
pinky or no?

Suddenly, she remembers the war
Anguish and fury rush back to sting her
Her hands are warm and she watches the color slowly disperse.
Placidity counters the fury.
Sympathy balances the anguish.
Her hands are warm, but her heart is worn.
Her mind is lethargic

She lets it all go
imagines it floating away 
                                      this way
      that way
                                                           out of sight, out of mind
All of her efforts are spent
wasted on impotence and structural barriers
She wants to care, but she just can't afford to anymore.

- inspired but not really much more aligned with the Daily Prompt

Why Are You So Nice?

Sometimes I wonder about nice people

Do they know just how delightful they are?

Do they make an effort to be that pleasant?

If they’re conscious of their niceness, why do they choose to be so?

But then I wonder, are they actually nice?

Or do they just want to be known as someone who is warm and benign on the outside,

so that they’ll be more liked?

And then I ask myself whether or not it’s bad to make an effort to be such a pleasant person

Purposely saying nice things for the sake of being nice

Is it because they figure there’s already so much hatred in the world,

Or because they were taught that that was the correct thing to do?

But no one can be 100% nice.

Sadness and frustration always chips away at the shell of politeness and happiness

Do they deal with stress very well?

Do they just really appreciate life?

What if they only want good things to happen to people?

What if they just like you? Maybe they like me.

Sometimes I wonder about anti-nice people.

Horrible, nasty, pessimistic human beings.

Are they just permanently not nice?

Except, what if they just had a bad day? What if they didn’t sleep well?

Has something in their past caught up to their present?

What if they don’t think it’s necessary to be nice?

What if they think that no one deserves their niceness

Or maybe it’s just me – and the way I measure niceness

Not in how many words or good deeds

But by the intentions behind the words and deeds

Because we’re all different

And we all see the world differently.

What if they just don’t like you? Maybe they don’t like me.

Writing Prompt