Stop being so hard on yourself and trying with all might to rectify things within.
Whatever you think the world is withholding from you, you are withholding from the world.
No more picking. The world is your oyster.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
However far away...
Reading, reading, back to doing a lot of reading nowadays; alternating between Pamuk & Rhinehart, taking as much time as I wish. Too much time I'm afraid. Sometimes I wished I should have sped up the reading process but during those times, something's always telling me to take my time with a book - take in every word, phrase, and paragraph like wine.
I remember the days when I use to gobble up pages with furor and spit the book up back into the bookshelf, insatiable. There's the read section, and the yet-to-be's, including a silent mental section for the favourites and never-again's. Mom used to get so angry every time I come home with a new book, incensed by my money management. I wonder why myself at times; why books, why not dresses?
Well, I suspect those days of eager avid gobble-reading have long been muzzled. With barely any time and the fact that I rarely ever buy anymore, I guess this is why I chose to go at my books like a tortoise on a snail now. Not that it's a bad thing. My average daily word consumption remains at a favourable level I shall say...
I just need to write more. And play the piano more.
And perhaps one day muster enough courage to unhinge the case and take a peek at my cello...ol buddy ol pal. Bet the strings have all rusted, and I wonder what I'd do if I find it housing a family of termites.
Shucks.
I remember the days when I use to gobble up pages with furor and spit the book up back into the bookshelf, insatiable. There's the read section, and the yet-to-be's, including a silent mental section for the favourites and never-again's. Mom used to get so angry every time I come home with a new book, incensed by my money management. I wonder why myself at times; why books, why not dresses?
Well, I suspect those days of eager avid gobble-reading have long been muzzled. With barely any time and the fact that I rarely ever buy anymore, I guess this is why I chose to go at my books like a tortoise on a snail now. Not that it's a bad thing. My average daily word consumption remains at a favourable level I shall say...
I just need to write more. And play the piano more.
And perhaps one day muster enough courage to unhinge the case and take a peek at my cello...ol buddy ol pal. Bet the strings have all rusted, and I wonder what I'd do if I find it housing a family of termites.
Shucks.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Don't sleep so much
The Monday after Chinese New Year. Back to work. Semi-amazed at how I drifted through my tasks in the morning. It's always easier to go equipped with a good amount of headlines right from whence the clock stroke 12. Which, is precisely what I'm supposed to be doing at this very moment but I opted for free-writing simply because it's been quite some time.
Hi.
Is it me or does Chinese New Year get more and more heartbreaking by the year? The gash just gets deeper and more septic as I return every time. I admit it will be a while before I bother to meddle in matters over on that side of the family really. Some of us too weary, some...just wary.
Not like anyone cared to try anyway, save two: One whom I deem the most important person to me in this world, one whom I am bound to shed my ego and love, hopefully before it's too late.
Hi.
Is it me or does Chinese New Year get more and more heartbreaking by the year? The gash just gets deeper and more septic as I return every time. I admit it will be a while before I bother to meddle in matters over on that side of the family really. Some of us too weary, some...just wary.
Not like anyone cared to try anyway, save two: One whom I deem the most important person to me in this world, one whom I am bound to shed my ego and love, hopefully before it's too late.
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