Why didn’t I raise my hand?

via Pinterest, click to see

It was my last year of high school, there was this guy, a pastor (Mr. Fingle?) from the US had come to give us a lecture on acceptance, loving and respecting ourselves and a few other things along those lines. I can remember what seemed to be the entire fifth form seated to the front of the auditorium, quietly listening to this confident and passionate man. I think the silence had to do with him being a stranger and a foreigner, the only white man (and very pink from the heat) in the gathering of brown and ebony. Plus no one would ever want to stand up in front of everyone and given the high chance of messing up.

I remembered feeling empowered somehow, his words excluded this contagious energy that was meant to affect me. I can’t say the same for the other kids, half of whose faces are blurs in my mind today, quiet yes, but not necessarily listening. I’ve always made a point to pay attention especially to guests like Mr. Fingle, it’s not often people around here will talk about this stuff, to address these feelings we feel, why we feel them and how we think we should react to them.

I’m afraid up to now I have been vague on what were some of the things he said, mostly because I found that a lot from that day has blanked out from me probably because one particular topic he mentioned proceeded to take up my thoughts from then on. There was this guy sitting right in front of me, let’s call him Nash. Mr. F walked over and pointed to him and asked everyone, “Okay, let’s for a minute pretend that this young man happened to be gay. Which one of you would be his friend?”

In time, we’ll all be memories and old photos

My two sisters and our little brother. This was taken almost a month ago at the beach.

Time is an abyss to which our lives will eventually be lost, slowly eroded in the minds of the people we knew. We will just be stories to the people who comes after us, some of us become legends and heroes, some of us plain folks and some will me fondly be called upon as the nefarious villains on this big stage. It’s a strange feeling to realize our lives are books, we are the characters stepping in time to the pace and place written in our plots by the quill of fate. But who is this fate that decides for us? Is it ourselves or is it just written in stone? I’d like to believe it’s the former.

I will, in the end, be a faded picture, hopefully kept in an album to be passed on to generations. Perhaps my many great-grand children will wonder who’s that lost looking lady with the silly face? If my name is written on the back, will it ring in their minds and will inspire them to make up tales where I was a Lara Croft, or will they see me as a wacky librarian? Perhaps I was a wacky librarian who lead a double life of the adventurer or, heck, even a spy! I chuckle at the thought.

It’s 4 o’ clock, are you serious? (Includes a few insights on The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky)

Well, that’s the longest title I’ve ever permitted myself to publish. At some point I will begin to ramble, but perhaps you might not realize that I usually do this because I edit to make it look less obvious. My lips are smarting from the pain as I bite the peeling skin. That sounds gross. It is right to say my lips are ‘smarting’? See? I have already began, but I am not going to edit and if I remember I’ll tell you why it’s important to me.

via Goodreads. I chose this cover instead of the original because it has Emma Watson on it.

Okay, I have sleeping problems and I won’t say it’s insomnia because well I’m distracted all the time by one thing or another but I could rest if I let myself. What usually steals my sleep is reading. Since I got the kindle app I’ve lost so much of it. I can’t bring myself to delete it. I think I need professional help. Now, I’ve been reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower on and off for almost a week and a half but it’s gotten so much interesting that I stayed up till this ungodly hour reading it half way through. Trouble is that the best time to talk about a book or movie is just right after reading or watching it so I might not be as exact as I intended earlier.

Charlie. He is, to slap a label on, this introvert that I believe gives me an inside look on how some introverts think. He really gives a lot to the details that I would fling over my shoulder because of the irrelevance of it at that given moment. Charlie makes me see how much there is to a simple action, a simple inaction, how much there is to see at family gatherings during holidays and when you think about it sometimes you wonder why you weren’t in some daytime television drama series. There is so much in everything that it amazing till it hurts your head.

The importance of mornings

Via Pinterest, click to see

This morning I hadn’t much sleep, but unlike most this was with good reason. My grandma wasn’t feeling well and I got up to test her sugar and pressure a couple times. She took her pills. I worry about her. I followed her to the washroom least she falls and hit herself again. She insisted on going with my father to the city, ordering my mother and I not to tell him anything. I usually do tell him, but I suspect if I did today she’d end up getting mad at me and stressing her tired heart even more. I love my grandma dearly.

I’m always told that I’m her favourite, and I always smile because I could see that I was. For the most part of my eighteen years I slept by her side and as each year sprints away I wonder how much longer do we have with her. Well, her and my granda. I wouldn’t handle it well at all should something happen to them, and I hate to say this to sound biased, especially her. That woman is the most hard working person, next to my dad, who I had the honor to know, I would cry if I were to recount what the both of them have been through. My parents will be around for a while yet but I hope to God that I get to squeeze as much time with them.

I set my phone to wake her up a 2:30 AM. I got up again at five, opened my favourite window and cloud gazed. Mornings are for … I forgot this already, let me try … Mornings are for positive thoughts and good energy. Think about it; they aren’t there just to look pretty (if the weather feels fine), it has a purpose and if you look hard enough and far enough you’ll see it.

I am …

Via Pinterest. Click to go to the board it’s pinned on.

..… feeling hot and sticky right now and I hope for home.

………..… tired and need sleep.

 …………….. … a little confused and need to meditate.

…..… hurting inside.

… funny and always up for a good laugh.

… itching to travel.

… insecure

…confident.

… conflicted.

… wanting to write a proper post.

To each his own, why I dislike comparisons

(via Pinterest) Whose comparison? Mine? Theirs? Both.

Yesterday on the way to my aunt’s place, my uncle who was driving made a remark where he compared one of my sisters to myself on a certain aspect that I’m secretly touchy on. It hurt me even though he didn’t mean to, the man has no idea up till now. I know that there are countless people like me who dislike being compared to our siblings, relatives, friends and even co-workers, sometimes it burns, hotter especially when the contrast was deliberate.

I have a private diary thingy and here’s a part of what I’d written:

Sometimes all we need to do is reflect

When life gets rough, when the morning sunlight feels as if it burns my skin and my brain tricks me into thinking that I’ve become a vampire, when time seems to be non existent and especially those times when I stop believing in myself, contemplating my worthlessness to my family, myself and the world – I need to pause. I need hot chocolate. I need Steve and Jon.

It’s then when I have to clear my mind and try to reach down and find that place inside me, my inner peace, that’s been shoved deeper and deeper down until I can’t feel it anymore and I become more vulnerable to the constant stream of slithering and heavy chaos.

I need to remind myself of the things I live for, the things and people that are worth living for. To remember that there are more good than evil, that there will be another good day. I have a lot to give, I want to affect people, to make someone’s life better, I want to be the cause of someone’s smile. I want to make my life count for something. Up to now this post might have led you to believe I’m depressed, I am often but right now I’m stressed and mad at myself. The best thing for me is to listen to music, The Piano Guys do it for me.

A few things that made me cry today …

… happened to be commencement speeches.

Normally on Sundays I surf the YouTube waves and thanks to the E-magine internet works that we now have up here, streaming is awesome as ever. I took advantage immediately. So I got on to YT and it had some recommendations for me, bless ‘em. One of those were J.K Rowling’s commencement speech for Harvard in 2008.

You know I’m not ashamed to say I’d cried. I’ll remember her words, I’ll call on them again later in my life I’m sure. This woman here, she’s an inspiration.

This one is Ellen DeGeneres’ speech at Tulane in 2009.

She’s gay, hilarious and she is awesome and I freaking love her and her generous heart. Her message of being true to yourself has touched me deep inside because I’m not very sure about who I am. I don’t want to hold back on being ‘me’ while at the same time I don’t want to let down the people I care about. You’d have thought that if they loved me back that they would accept the person I am, but it’s a different matter, it’s complicated. Isn’t it always?

Nightime whispers

Reblogged from The Excellence Asylum:

• 

Have you seen the moon tonight?

Did you drink in her crisp pearly beams?

Have you felt the wind like a soft rain of

Needles against your skin?

I let its chill course in my fevered veins

Sending me riding on a wave so high

I almost touched the velvet sky

*

Read more… 758 more words

My new poem and some thoughts about about my nocturnal inclinations.

A thought, a line and a Sunday tune

Hi all, I hope you’re all having a good Sunday. I’m still catching up on a few more blogs and I’m expecting latest edition of Tammy‘s Sunday Funnies. It’s 29°C here in my part of South America which means for us we’re sweating our heads off and it could get even hotter in early December and at the moment the AC’s a bust but luckily I’m used to the heat, that and it looks like we’ll be having some late November rain soon.

• The (really long) thought:

Lately I’ve gotten over this thing I had over make-up. You see, I’m one of those people who think that we should be happy with our natural looks and personally I think I’m betraying myself by wearing the stuff. I’ve got a tiny secret. I collect make up; blush, mascara and the bulk of it all goes to eye shadow, to just look at them. Usually, I’d lock up and play dress up because I actually like it but when I’m finished I’d rub it all off.

Then (and I mean a day or two ago) I thought about it and concluded that I’m being a tad foolish and if there’s a living soul that could nag me to death in a matter of 30 seconds or less, it’s me.