Happy New Year!

First thing’s first, I was locked out of my account because I forgot where I put my list of codes to log in (typical) and  the text code feature wasn’t working, so yeah, I couldn’t post during Christmas week. A shout-out to Kris, the Happiness Engineer that got me back in. You rock, dude.

Got this cuddly widdle guy from here

I know 2014 has been absolute nonsense to some of us, sprinkled with the good things that propelled us forward. It’s 100% a possibility that is an understatement for many of people. Just thinking of last year, how close it is to this one still, rouses up some upsetting feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t like it one bit. Personally, sure I was conflicted here and there but on a more general level, a more connected-to-humanity-level I am disgusted with the senseless loss of life born of ignorance and hate, saddened and hollowed with the people lost from the air disasters and the boat ones and the train ones and those guys in the stampede in Beijing on New year’s day.

I don’t know what it takes to be someone to govern a country, city or town but it has to take a lot of brass. Every leader has his or her own agenda that affects ‘the people’ but I reflect especially on Russia and Ukraine, on whose affairs I’m not qualified on any level to speak on with any authority but that of a concerned and curious outsider, I ask not only those two leaders but all those involved in peace making in that conflict to do one thing: look at the people.

Yes, aid has pouring in as best as it could and I am at peace inside that people sill care enough (what does that tell about my outlook on humans? A post for another time probably). Again, I have not a clue about the mind numbing effort it takes to organize and make treaties and attend talks and make decisions affecting the lives of billions. But for a moment, can we all just step back from the political and religious extremism (I am not pointing fingers here) that usually start all this clusterfu-

Look, just step back, okay? Boys and men, and the girls and women in the battlefield. No longer fresh faced and ready. Angry and blank. Hot and cold. And look at the children huddled under rippling blue tarp in a hastily put together shelter some places familiar and those others foreign, alien; lost family members, festering wounds, chapped lips and spasming bellies, meticulously portioned food; mothers and fathers sick with worry, elders with bleak eyes and maps etched deep into their faces, souls ready to skedaddle out from their ears.

I am not saying that these leaders aren’t seeing because they most obviously doRead More »

Feel my love

I wrote this while I was listening to Adele’s ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me‘ but I feel that it read in the rhythm of her version of ‘Make You Feel My Love‘.

The night I’ve been cloaked under has lasted so long. The seasons come and go before my eyes, like watching the world go around from my bedroom window. I’ve driven people away yet I need them close. I … I am a tangled mess, like old hair stuck in the bristles of a brush.

A snowflake tentatively approaches me, as if knowing that I’m too hot to touch but still wants to feel the burn. That impulsive snowflake melts before landing on my face.  I’m too hot even for me to bear.

And when the cool fall breeze breathes along my body, it chafes at my skin.

Who will love me when the morning nears? After the witnessed darkness of my nights? Who will love me with the sun decides to shine, illuminating the drying trail of tears? Your beautiful face comes to me shining in the pale moonlight.

Do you think I have anything left to give? Does that molten emotion still flow in the husk of me? It’s a question you’ll have to be brave enough to seek. But I’d swear it to you, your memory is what’s been keeping me alive. Come closer and let me gather you near. Come a little bit closer like you used to do. How else can I make you feel my love?

Field of dandelions

WARNING: Serious stuffs below.

via Pinterest, click to see more.

I’ll never claim to have an organized mind so it may come as no surprise that I still can’t sort out what to scratch about next. I find that it helps to amble aimlessly until I scan on some interesting bit as I breeze by the internal mental landscape of my head. Here goes.

Being young and having the means at the ready to be almost anything you want to be is, at it’s core, a depressing state. Oh, why I’m fortunate but even then life isn’t a field of daisies. It’s almost another year and I’m not at the least anxious in awaiting my A Levels results, it can’t be good. What do I want to be when I grow up? Am I grown up? Age is no definite marker in maturity but I believe I’m almost there. I’m good with my hands. I’m my family’s masseuse and I’m constantly being told by a few members and some friends that I would do very well professionally.

I wouldn’t mind giving it a shot but certain persons don’t think it suitable for me. I have to play to my strengths and consider advice as it comes my way. I’m beginning to even bore myself here with all this dreary talk of my future, but it is what it is. I want to have a little book shop on the side whilst teaching English, eventually as a foreign language. I want to have a tight group of friends who’ll love the person I am despite my earthen scale of faults. Perhaps I watch Friends too much.

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Content with my coconuts and skies

Via Pinterest
This lovely piece was found via Pinterest. I know what it looks like, but let’s not.

Just now Katty Kay announced on the television that in Damascus the four children and the school bus driver, casualties in a clash between rebel forces and the Syrian army, were laid to rest today. I felt my throat constrict and dilate in tiny painful spasms. It was only a matter of seconds that I would feel my tears. My heart was trembling at yet another loss of life. I mean of course it happens every minute somewhere, death, but to be ripped off of this earth so violently … it’s horrifying to me on the other side of the screen, another world away. I walked in to my room, knelt and prayed.

I think that after a while of watching the news that one can become desensitized to the brutality of war, but that’s not true. I can’t speak for anyone else but for me to a point I can ignore it. What has it to do with me? Oh how it would have been easier if I were more selfish but I’m not that heartless, I hope I’m not. Every news update, every breaking news builds up like bits and pieces of rubble into a heap just waiting for the last speck to tip the whole thing over my head.

Then there’s this typhoon that ravaged the Philippines. We all knew what it looks like over there – no, no not really we’ve only snatched a glimpse. No five minute video footage could ever voice the trauma and hopelessness of a people who’ve had everything that’s mattered snatched from them, and no one person or persons to blame but the temperamental elements. I’m not going to further expound, I don’t have the right to.

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Compassion In Boston


You need to read this.

Originally posted on Legendary Post:

An Inspiring Article, Originally Posted Here


Eric Adelson
Eric Adelson
Yahoo! Expert

Boston Marathon explosions attract an outpouring of help from city’s residents

2 hours 33 minutes ago

It’s a plain spreadsheet with a simple title: “I have a place to offer.”

What follows is simply inspiring.

There are names, thousands of names of people in the Boston area with standing offers to help those displaced by the horrifying explosions near the finish line of Monday’s Boston Marathon. By Monday evening, the Google document had become more than a resource for the stranded. It became a viral statement of solidarity from the proud people of Massachusetts.

Links to the list can be found on the front page of the Boston Globe website. “Have a place to offer?” the website reads. “Fill out this form.”

[Related: Get more coverage of the Boston Marathon explosions]

There are email addresses and…

View original 559 more words

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.

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A post in which I let my mind loose

A sky of a brighter day.
© Devina S.

It was almost 6:30 PM, the heavens were bursting at the seams. A river had rained over my head. The thunder crashed some where in the dark blue velvet of the Caribbean sky in short bursts like a child throwing a tantrum. The lightening flashed a chastising glance at the thunder’s unruly rampage,  zig zagging across the sky like a thousand snaking veins, pulsing with lethal energy.

And I sit here typing and thinking of how ridiculous Miley Cyrus’ hair is. Really. I will talk no more on that subject because I have more important things to worry over, like how many licks does it take to get to the centre of a lollypop. The people at Cambridge actually found out (as I’ve heard on twitter) but I can’t remember how much. I always end up chewing off the thing before I even get close to the centre. I will never know. NeVeR!

The title of the post might have told you that I’ll go crazy and you’re waiting to to see how I’ll get myself shipped of to the loony bin. That was my intent but sanity reclaimed the reins. Bummer, I know.

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Untitled Poem


A little something I wrote for our newspaper.

Originally posted on Legendary Post:

What’s this darkness I feel inside?

It tries its damnedest to overwhelm me

I feel my bruised resolve slipping

Like ketchup sliding out of a bottle

Reluctantly first, then easily gave way.


What’s this cloud I just can barely see above my head?

My trembling fingers moved to my eyes as if I could wish it away

Its foreboding presence stifles me as I lay there

Curled up pathetically on the cold barren ground

Like the frightened child I am.


About to succumb to this madness,

I remove my hand willing myself to face my doom, that’s when I saw it –

Barely a flicker of the elusive light

Floating before my vision, with no care in what’s left of the world

It reminded of this thing called …

View original 339 more words

Depression hurts and I don’t think Cymbalta can help …

Image via community321.com

There are times in our lives when despair over powers positive outlook and it feels as if we’ve plunged head first into its dark frigid waters. I am sinking beneath its murky depths and carried away by its ruthless current. My lungs are screaming from the lack of hope. I slowly turn to the darkness and pull the shadows like a cloak closer around me, finding a dark sort of comfort, and let stars fall from my eyes.

My salty tears surround me like a mist of my disappointment, of me not being strong enough, clever enough and focused enough to be the best that  can be and make the ones I love proud of me. To ease their pains and sorrows. Sinking deeper down willingly in the dark abyss of despair, my burning eyes snatch glimpses of the weak dreamy glow of the light from the restless surface.

My mind latched onto it as if a life preserver. I realize, that even in the merciless darkness, light will always be present, no matter what. I reach, my fingers groping for the light …  the cloak pulls me deeper yet, but I begin to resist. I must, but can I do it? How do I fight this overwhelming sense of despair? Oh! But I must. I can. And with everything I’ve got, I shall!

Can’t lose hope, lose faith in myself. Not yet, not ever. Despite those struggling thoughts, I’m still plagued with doubt, but that’s the wicked darkness speaking, its raspy voice whispering in my ear. I mustn’t let it get to me. So the battle begins.

I will be victorious.

I know this is rather depressing, but it is what it is. I write this and share it with you because it’s much easier than saying it out loud to someone I know for I don’t want to burden them with the knowledge of the conflicting emotions waging war within me, and make things worse. Blogging has become an outlet for releasing the words jumbled up in my head and I am very grateful to you  guys for coming by and sharing your thoughts with me  :)