"the sea is a prison for the waves,
the beach a prison for the sea,
the fig tree a prison for the birds,
the four quarters are a prison for the day,
the day is a prison for the night,
the sky for the wind, the face for the eyes,
the stomach for hunger,the mind for the thoughts,
the mountain fo the earth,
the picture for the eye,
the soft scent for the nostrils,
the hair for the adorning flower,
every word a prison for the tongue,
your encircling arms are a prison for me:
oh do not open your arms and drive this bird away,
do not let the wings be cut off by the wind
that swallows the waves of the sea,
do not let the skull be split by lightning and thunder,
do not let the bird wander outside the nest of your mind
like and orphan, oh hold him fast,
do not relax your entwining fingers,
hold him, hold him... "
Ayyapa Paniker (B.1930)
Translated from Malayalam
Friday, June 27, 2008
I am- A Philosophy for Existence
What am I
but a name on a paper.
A word
who's meaning is meaningless
to you, to my 'self'.
My autonomy- much contradicted by
indisposable rights.
I am born alone-
for my 'self' to lead life.
To discover earth's beauty
by blind ambission :
not dictated by principles,
not dictated to resemble the average being,
not shared by should's and could's.
I am.
Simple but sumptuous.
I am the common thought,
yet different view.
Deligate of the living,
the growing earth,
nature's repetition and commodity.
but a name on a paper.
A word
who's meaning is meaningless
to you, to my 'self'.
My autonomy- much contradicted by
indisposable rights.
I am born alone-
for my 'self' to lead life.
To discover earth's beauty
by blind ambission :
not dictated by principles,
not dictated to resemble the average being,
not shared by should's and could's.
I am.
Simple but sumptuous.
I am the common thought,
yet different view.
Deligate of the living,
the growing earth,
nature's repetition and commodity.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
He Wrote!
Sweet! He wrote to me again!
Oh, how he knows when to make the perfect entrance into my life.
He saves me from my sorrows and worries!
I've been pretty spoiled this week, I think.
First he called on Sunday, and now I received from him a letter.
It's difficult to keep in touch through the distance.. but these little simple things rekindle my love for him.
I'm so happy- what piano exam? what bitchy music teacher?- I'm trapped in my bubble again!
I have to write, have to express my happiness!
Only 89 days till he returns, he says.
He quotes "Into the Wild" about his experience up north:
"I wished to acquire the simplicity, native feelings, and virtues of savage life; to divest myself of the factitious habits, prejudices, and imperfections of civilization".
Couldn't agree more!
Oh, how he knows when to make the perfect entrance into my life.
He saves me from my sorrows and worries!
I've been pretty spoiled this week, I think.
First he called on Sunday, and now I received from him a letter.
It's difficult to keep in touch through the distance.. but these little simple things rekindle my love for him.
I'm so happy- what piano exam? what bitchy music teacher?- I'm trapped in my bubble again!
I have to write, have to express my happiness!
Only 89 days till he returns, he says.
He quotes "Into the Wild" about his experience up north:
"I wished to acquire the simplicity, native feelings, and virtues of savage life; to divest myself of the factitious habits, prejudices, and imperfections of civilization".
Couldn't agree more!
The Troubled Pianist
[Enough.
She's sick of this.
Constant movement, constant stress, constant disaproval.
Fuck. She's been working her ass of ever since she was young.
Tears form in her eyes as she writes this-
She swallows the gulp in her throat-
battles them from running down her face.
There she is, one might think as they watch her, happy, at peace with herself.
How wrong they are.
Why must she torture something she first wanted to pick up as a hobby.
It's not a hobby anymore. It's not love.
She hates this shit now- pressured to do it- to finish it.
All the dictated pieces- played as the composer intended- strictly formulated by the notes written on the paper.
Just once she'd like to lose herself in one of her pieces- but she has no time.
No time to explore the beauty of this instrument she was once attracted to.
To calm her emotions, she thinks of him.
He'd want her to finish- get it over with- put her mind at ease.
But he's not here.
She feels as if she started a circle- caught him in the same trance.
The same work ethic she now despises.
He thinks he enjoys it (in all honesty, she hopes he does).
She blames herself.
Is it worth it- will it be worth it at the end?
No one knows.
Let him make the choices for himself, she can only but encourage him.
Hope he won't lose himself, his 'self', his autonomy, and personality.
A man once said his longest successful relationship has been with his work.
Is it possible to feel love to the physical, cold, and materialistic as pects of life, rather than reflect it towards another individual?
She misses her connection with him.
They're drowning themselves in work.
Communists.
She waits for an end. Imagines and end.]
She's sick of this.
Constant movement, constant stress, constant disaproval.
Fuck. She's been working her ass of ever since she was young.
Tears form in her eyes as she writes this-
She swallows the gulp in her throat-
battles them from running down her face.
There she is, one might think as they watch her, happy, at peace with herself.
How wrong they are.
Why must she torture something she first wanted to pick up as a hobby.
It's not a hobby anymore. It's not love.
She hates this shit now- pressured to do it- to finish it.
All the dictated pieces- played as the composer intended- strictly formulated by the notes written on the paper.
Just once she'd like to lose herself in one of her pieces- but she has no time.
No time to explore the beauty of this instrument she was once attracted to.
To calm her emotions, she thinks of him.
He'd want her to finish- get it over with- put her mind at ease.
But he's not here.
She feels as if she started a circle- caught him in the same trance.
The same work ethic she now despises.
He thinks he enjoys it (in all honesty, she hopes he does).
She blames herself.
Is it worth it- will it be worth it at the end?
No one knows.
Let him make the choices for himself, she can only but encourage him.
Hope he won't lose himself, his 'self', his autonomy, and personality.
A man once said his longest successful relationship has been with his work.
Is it possible to feel love to the physical, cold, and materialistic as pects of life, rather than reflect it towards another individual?
She misses her connection with him.
They're drowning themselves in work.
Communists.
She waits for an end. Imagines and end.]
The 35 Express
"This is an express vehicle"
Express to where?
Does it fly over traffic,
speed past the 50km/h speed limit?
Do cars bow down before it and make way for it to go through?
It must be expressing its wheels to the road,
making sure they caress every rock on the pavement.
It must be gliding slowly,
ensuring everyone outside of it takes pleasure in its view.
Hail the Express Jane Bus!
A contradiction to its name!
lol.
Express to where?
Does it fly over traffic,
speed past the 50km/h speed limit?
Do cars bow down before it and make way for it to go through?
It must be expressing its wheels to the road,
making sure they caress every rock on the pavement.
It must be gliding slowly,
ensuring everyone outside of it takes pleasure in its view.
Hail the Express Jane Bus!
A contradiction to its name!
lol.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
I Say a Little Prayer for You
The moment I wake up.. before I put on my makeup.. (8)
lol! Def. the best part of the movie! :P
My Best Friends Wedding. I was just surfing the web when I stummbled upon this clip. This movie made me cry lol .. I think I was captured by Julia's performance- truly believed I was in her position (Hated Cameron haha). Honestly, what would you do if you discovered you love your best friend only to find out he's getting married? *ouch.
lol! Def. the best part of the movie! :P
My Best Friends Wedding. I was just surfing the web when I stummbled upon this clip. This movie made me cry lol .. I think I was captured by Julia's performance- truly believed I was in her position (Hated Cameron haha). Honestly, what would you do if you discovered you love your best friend only to find out he's getting married? *ouch.
Monday, June 23, 2008
A Taste of Atonement
I'm on the hunt for a good book to read. I enjoy novels that capture a piece of history, teach me something about the world, however have in them a sufficient amount of romance =)
Lately I've been feeling encaptured by an optimistic aura, a feeling that love can outcompete all difficulties and problems. I feel like nothing can ground me- I don't want to be grounded- not yet. Reality chases all around- I have exams to finish- work to attend- I don't feel like surrendering my inner self to it. Let life chase me for a change!
Here's an excerpt from Atonement, which has grown popular over the past year. This is one of my fav. parts of the novel- where the two childhood friends discover their love for eachother. Throughout the novel, their love is tested, it grows- outlasts the difficulties of the second world war. Powerful!
[ He could only repeat to himself, this time in a whisper.
"I'm sorry.."
She was moving further away, toward the corner, into deeper shadow. Even though he thought she was recoiling from him, he took another couple of steps in her direction.
"It was a stupid thing. You were never meant to read it. No one was".
Still she shrank away. One elbow was resting on the shelves, and she seemed to slide along them, as though about to disappear between the books. It was only then that it occurred to him that she might not be shrinking from him, but drawing him with her deeper into the gloom. So he walked toward her slowly as she slipped back, until she was inthe corner where she stopped and watched him approach. He too stopped less than four feet away. He was close enough now, and there was just enough light, to see she was tearful and trying to speak. For the moment it was not possible and she shook her head to indicate that he should wait. She brought herself under controld and said, "It's been there for weeks..." Her throat constricted and she had to pause. Instantly, he had an idea what she meant, but he pushed it away. She drew a deep breath, then continued more reflectively, "Perhaps it's months. I don't know. But today... all day it's been strange. Everything has looked different- too sharp, too real. Even my own hands looked different. At other times I seem to be watching events as if they happened long ago. And all day I've been furious with you- and with myself. I thought I'd be perfectly happy never seeing you again. I thought you'd go off to medical school and I'd be happy. I was so angry with you."
She gave a tense little laugh.
Until now, her gaze had been lowered. When she spoke again she looked at him. He saw only the glimmer of her eyes.
"You knew before me. Something has happened, hasn't it? And you knew before me. It's like being close up to something so large you don't see it. Even now, I'm not sure I can. But I know it's there".
She looked down and waited.
"You do know what I'm talking about. Tell me you do". She was afraid that there was nothing shared at all, that all her assumptions were wrong and that with her words she had isolated herself further, and he would think she was a fool.
He moved nearer. "I do. I know it exactly. But why are you crying? Is there something else?"
Why was she crying? How could she begin to tell him when so much emotion, so many emotions, simply engulfed her? They stared at eachother in confusion, unable to speak, sensing that something delicately established might slip from them. That they were old friends who had shared a childhood was now a barrier- they were embarassed before their former selves. For the moment there seemed no way out with words.
He put his hands on her shoulders, and her bare skin was cool to the touch...]
(.. and then enclosed in the following three pages of the book is the best intimate scene I've ever read! worth the read!- I won't spoil it :P)
Atonement- Ian McEwan
Lately I've been feeling encaptured by an optimistic aura, a feeling that love can outcompete all difficulties and problems. I feel like nothing can ground me- I don't want to be grounded- not yet. Reality chases all around- I have exams to finish- work to attend- I don't feel like surrendering my inner self to it. Let life chase me for a change!
Here's an excerpt from Atonement, which has grown popular over the past year. This is one of my fav. parts of the novel- where the two childhood friends discover their love for eachother. Throughout the novel, their love is tested, it grows- outlasts the difficulties of the second world war. Powerful!
[ He could only repeat to himself, this time in a whisper.
"I'm sorry.."
She was moving further away, toward the corner, into deeper shadow. Even though he thought she was recoiling from him, he took another couple of steps in her direction.
"It was a stupid thing. You were never meant to read it. No one was".
Still she shrank away. One elbow was resting on the shelves, and she seemed to slide along them, as though about to disappear between the books. It was only then that it occurred to him that she might not be shrinking from him, but drawing him with her deeper into the gloom. So he walked toward her slowly as she slipped back, until she was inthe corner where she stopped and watched him approach. He too stopped less than four feet away. He was close enough now, and there was just enough light, to see she was tearful and trying to speak. For the moment it was not possible and she shook her head to indicate that he should wait. She brought herself under controld and said, "It's been there for weeks..." Her throat constricted and she had to pause. Instantly, he had an idea what she meant, but he pushed it away. She drew a deep breath, then continued more reflectively, "Perhaps it's months. I don't know. But today... all day it's been strange. Everything has looked different- too sharp, too real. Even my own hands looked different. At other times I seem to be watching events as if they happened long ago. And all day I've been furious with you- and with myself. I thought I'd be perfectly happy never seeing you again. I thought you'd go off to medical school and I'd be happy. I was so angry with you."
She gave a tense little laugh.
Until now, her gaze had been lowered. When she spoke again she looked at him. He saw only the glimmer of her eyes.
"You knew before me. Something has happened, hasn't it? And you knew before me. It's like being close up to something so large you don't see it. Even now, I'm not sure I can. But I know it's there".
She looked down and waited.
"You do know what I'm talking about. Tell me you do". She was afraid that there was nothing shared at all, that all her assumptions were wrong and that with her words she had isolated herself further, and he would think she was a fool.
He moved nearer. "I do. I know it exactly. But why are you crying? Is there something else?"
Why was she crying? How could she begin to tell him when so much emotion, so many emotions, simply engulfed her? They stared at eachother in confusion, unable to speak, sensing that something delicately established might slip from them. That they were old friends who had shared a childhood was now a barrier- they were embarassed before their former selves. For the moment there seemed no way out with words.
He put his hands on her shoulders, and her bare skin was cool to the touch...]
(.. and then enclosed in the following three pages of the book is the best intimate scene I've ever read! worth the read!- I won't spoil it :P)
Atonement- Ian McEwan
Softly Spoken
She laughs thinking about it now.
You are such a foolish girl in love.
Something so simple - yet it stopped all the motion around her.
Stopped the earth from its orbit- rejecting to follow the sun.
He got her.
He made her feel the warmest emotions physically possible.
Feel as if everybody she met outside her bubble was honest and compassionate.
A feeling that included extending her love and trust to even the most darkest individuals. Believing in the possibility of brightening their lives.
With this feeling anything is possible- the stars far out of reach are possible to hold, the depths of the ocean possible to swim under, and the sun with all its intensity possible to look at.
Anything can come into focus with reality and run parallel to its limits.
A 'hello' on the end of the phone was all it took for the colours of the room to jump off the wall.
She felt her heart ready to leap out of her body. Ready to beat a rhythm of its own, set to the pace of his voice.
Even now as she rekindles every word spoken- she feels nervous, shy, excited- a stir of emotion.
Excitement - a spontaneous reaction she cherishes so much for its honesty.
All necessary for she hasn't heard his voice in a long time.
Shy- for she confessed to him her happiness, her joy.
Nervous- a worrisome feeling. His expression in speech hollow, tired, and limited by the constraints of time.
Nonetheless, three simple words still stand strong, still hold them together regardless of the distance that keeps them apart.
She knows she gives this too much thought-
but why hide these emotions, so bright?
Why be ignorant to this feeling, the best in the world?
The beauty of these expressions are difficult to hold within oneself, so as she writes all these words, in her heart they are softly spoken.
You are such a foolish girl in love.
Something so simple - yet it stopped all the motion around her.
Stopped the earth from its orbit- rejecting to follow the sun.
He got her.
He made her feel the warmest emotions physically possible.
Feel as if everybody she met outside her bubble was honest and compassionate.
A feeling that included extending her love and trust to even the most darkest individuals. Believing in the possibility of brightening their lives.
With this feeling anything is possible- the stars far out of reach are possible to hold, the depths of the ocean possible to swim under, and the sun with all its intensity possible to look at.
Anything can come into focus with reality and run parallel to its limits.
A 'hello' on the end of the phone was all it took for the colours of the room to jump off the wall.
She felt her heart ready to leap out of her body. Ready to beat a rhythm of its own, set to the pace of his voice.
Even now as she rekindles every word spoken- she feels nervous, shy, excited- a stir of emotion.
Excitement - a spontaneous reaction she cherishes so much for its honesty.
All necessary for she hasn't heard his voice in a long time.
Shy- for she confessed to him her happiness, her joy.
Nervous- a worrisome feeling. His expression in speech hollow, tired, and limited by the constraints of time.
Nonetheless, three simple words still stand strong, still hold them together regardless of the distance that keeps them apart.
She knows she gives this too much thought-
but why hide these emotions, so bright?
Why be ignorant to this feeling, the best in the world?
The beauty of these expressions are difficult to hold within oneself, so as she writes all these words, in her heart they are softly spoken.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Goodbye Bullshit- The Purpose of the Bubble
Why Associate yourself
with people that bring you down?
People that close your heart onto the world?
They don't care for your success or happiness.
They enwrap themselves in you failure,
keep you tied to a single spot
while time chaces
all around you.
Move Forward.
Don't let their grief
for their own success hold you down.
Don't close yourself to those who are good-
on account of another's bad will.
Why associate with those that don't give two shits about you?
Why should you care about them?
It's pointless to occupy your mind with meaningless thoughts.
Does that satisfy your hunger for happiness?
Form a bubble.
Within it, focus your energy on goals for yourself.
Direct good will at those who are true and keep them inside with you.
Distinguish
between reality and bullshit.
Seperate the heart beat and thought.
I assure you the beat is alive.
Outside of the dome
are those that feed themselves with bull shit.
Keep a careless attitude toward them.
Bullshit, yum!
They don't affect you- they keep your heart cold.
Keep the beat silent and direct it.
Why let these
Why let these
'beings'
occupy your time?
Occupy your chance for happiness.
They think they can step on you, block you from your will.
Bullshit; unanswered.
*
Get out there.
Jump in with two feet.
Enjoy.
Jump in with two feet.
Enjoy.
*
Friday, June 20, 2008
..A short story; not yet completed
"This is where Marie lives", he pointed to a nice brown house. "It's huge!", she replied. She stared at this large brick figure, trying to ignore the 20- something storey buildings around it. She smiled at him and raised her eye brows. The whole neighbourhood was not very appealing. The houses, although very lavish and very well groomed, were built extremely close to one another. Like sardines in a can, they looked. She didn't understand why anybody would choose to live here. "I know what you're thinking", he said, "but she assured me it was only temporary". He laughed, at which she sighed with relief. "It is lovely. But these buildings... not one, but four?". A valley of houses drowning, empowered by these four large structures. There was absolutely no privacy here. People looking out of their balconies onto the backyards of others. "I promise our start won't be like this". He held her hand firmly. His eyes gleemed at hers. She was everything he looked for in a woman. Her love, her optimism, intelligence, and her legs. She had amazing legs! What more could he ask for? He liked the simplicity and the flow of her hair, her smell, and her softly tanned skin. She starred back at him, smiled, and rang the door bell. "That's because I'll be the one making the decisions around here", she teased.
"Oh, you're finally here!", the door opened wide revealing a large foyer. There was a crystal chandelier hanging in the centre of the room, a closet to the left, and beyond a yellow wall an arch leading to the living room. Marie appeared with a great smile on her face. She was holding some appetizers in her right hand and extending a hug in the other. ''Mike is just around the corner, I'm glad you made it. It's not much of a location, but it's a start, you know? Wait till you see the master bedroom!". Marie was always open and warm hearted. Older by four years, Marie was like a sister Kay never had. Her appearance resembled her brothers, she was a spick image of Dominic. Both had similar features, the same dark eyes and high cheek bones. Marie of course was more slender, more delicate, and unlike Dominic she was always well dressed.
"Everybody, I'm sure you remember my little brother Dominic and his girl friend Kay", she turned to a room filled with twenty or so people. Kay waved but Dominic of course had to be out of the ordinary. He leaped into the crowd with open arms. Everyone was very amused. All the faces in the room were familiar to Kay. She recognized the people from university, standing and laughing together, some were from Mike's job and others old friends of Marie's and Dominic's. They all attended the same school; Her, Mar, Mike, and Dom. They shared contacts, extended their circle of friends, they often spent their breaks together, shared books, and notes. But that was a while ago.
Kate smiled as she walked through the house. It was neat and very well furnished. "Europe", said Marie, noticing Kate's wandering eyes. "Half this stuff is from Mike's side, all wedding gifts". "How lucky you are! It' absolutely charming!", Kate replied squeezing Marie's hand, a sign of happiness for her. Across the hall was Mike, lingering from guest to guest, bringing up random chatter, making sure everyone was comfortable. He was coming over to where they were standing, arms extended. "It's good to see you again", he said. "Happy Birthday Bud! When we saw it we immediately thought of you", Dominic said. He handed Mike a medium sized box. "It's supposed to bring adventure to the bedroom", Kay added and winked. On their trip to the Carribean they came across a dark and beautiful wooden sculpture of a twisted looking figure. It resembled a man and a woman entangled in each other's arms. It was believed to be a fertility sculpture, perfect for the newly weds. "You have to tell me about your vaycay. You're not on your honeymoon, let alone even married, yet you travel so much!", added Marie. Dom smirked at his sister, adding a remark that Kay didn't catch. Something else caught her attention at that moment. Rather, it was someone else that moved her away from where she was standing. Someone familiar but distant standing out on the patio. She pulled Marie aside, away from the group. "Tell me you didn't.." she started. "I did invite him. I had to, he's Mike's good friend", finished Marie.
There he was. James. Ha! What was he now? A lawyer? a doctor? He came from a wealthy family and always used that to his advantage. Tall, blonde, and ravishingly handsome. He was dressed in a light beige suit, elegant but casual. He was standing next to a couple of pretty girls who were waving their drinks and tossing their hair. "That's no surprise", Kay moved her head in his direction, commenting on the two he was with. "I told him to be good, Kay. He won't bother you."
James, she repeated his name in her head. He bought her jewellery, bags, clothes. He dressed her up, introduced her into a world of money, he put her on display for everyone to admire. She did enjoy it at first, she admitted to herself. It was something she's never had before. He made her feel like no one else mattered in the world. She played along with what he wanted, gratified his every need and he fulfilled all her desires, but what a mistake that was. As she stood among a couple of friends, she found herself glancing in his direction. She then looked back at Dom, laughing with Mike, enjoying himself. Oh that honest and caring man. He made her heart melt. He made her feel emotion, he made her feel real and alive. Yet she caught herself constantly glancing at James. That coward, that poser, that liar. That mysterious man and his gorgeous wavy hair, a light shade of blonde. She still remembers the colour of his eyes. They were like the ocean, a deep rich blue. Ew. She realizes she doesn't like that in a man anymore. He was a guy pulled out from a Cosmo magazine; he was always picture perfect. She shook at the thought of him. Goosebumps covered her skin as she replayed in her mind the nights they spent together.
Shit. He noticed her staring. He raised his glass out to her and grinned confidently. Disgusting, she thought. Who did he think he was, all cocky and charming? She hesitantly smiled back and did the same. What she really wanted to do was gag, stick out her tongue, and roll her eyes. She went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and did just that. She fixed her hair up, took a look at her skirt, twirled back and forth. It felt like she was in that room for a long time. Outside of the door she heard laughter, chatter, and a burst of song- "Happy Birthday to you..". She didn't feel like joining in. She stayed inside there for a while, until the song was over. Dominic probably noticed she was gone. She didn't want him looking for her. As she was about to leave, there was a soft tap on the door, followed by a whisper. "You in there, babe?". Oh, good timing, he came for her. He knew her too well, she thought. "Yep, I'll be right out hun", she replied. She took a final look in the mirror and quickly opened the door. However, the smile on her face faded as she looked at the figure infront of her. This was the man who came for her, who attempted to save her. "Why? who else were you expecting?", said James. He had that stupid grin on his face. His emotions were expressed so well by his features; I'm the wise guy, are what his eyes said. She stared at him with a hint of confusion. A long pause followed. The nerve of this guy to barge in on her like this. She was very disapointed. "You look smashing", he broke the silence. "Smashing? Is that the new line for the ladies now?", she replied. Jerk. She stepped out of the bathroom and pushed him gently aside. She didn't want to see him at all, she wanted to forget about his existence. She needed to get away. She entered the living room brushing against a crowd of people. She was looking for Dom. Where was he?
She heard his voice out on the patio. He was always easy to spot because he had the loudest laugh she's ever heard. She motioned towards him, signalling something wasn't right. He immediately noticed her dismay and walked towards her. He playfully took her in his arms and danced her around the crowd. "Lets get out of here for a sec", she whispered to him. She took his hand, led him through the house, and stepped out onto the front yard. They ended up walking along the street, enjoying eachother's company. He comforted her, talked to her, updated her on the stories of the people he'd been talking to. She liked this. She liked the world with him. So safe, secure, so complete. She always thought clearly with him around her, no worry ever clouded her mind. They sat in the park for a while. It was already dark outside. They stared at the random assortment of lights on the buildings around them. There was no pattern to the yellow colours, like stars which crowded a black sky. It wasn't a very loud neighbourhood, she noticed. There were no busy streets around, no engines roaring, only the slight hum of one or two cars passing by in seperated intervals of time.
"Dom, Kay!", a voice yelled behind them. How long were they gone from the the house? At first they didn't hear the voice but then it grew clearer, louder. It was James, waving at them from a distance. Gosh, he always had to poke his way through, always had to keep everything in order, know where everything was, what everyone was doing. "Laura and John are leaving. Marie sent me here for you", he yelled. "I doubt that", she said back. Dom threw her a look. "What?", she said quietly to Dom, "I bet he's the only one who noticed we were gone, he's always budding in where he isn't wanted". James finally reached the bench at where they were sitting. He had a glass of scotch in his hand at which he sipped, an attempt to break the awkward silence. Dom didn't seem to mind him here. He knew about James. Dom knew they were once together but he didn't know the details. She didn't tell him about his jealousy, his agressiveness nor did she mention their moments of intimacy.
Liberty Grand. A gala, it was a ball maybe 3 years back. He presented her to his society as something she wasn't. First, he bought her a dress that he wanted her to wear. It was glamorous, beautiful, and extremely expensive. She refused the gift for she already bought a nice, simple, white dress. But after him insisting it was a gesture of his appreciation, she accepted. She thought she deserved being pampered by him, after all, it was her brains still keeping him in school. If the dress wasn't enough, he surprised her with a day at the spa. He made her up and paid for everything. She didn't think this was necessary. She was a humble girl from a lower middle class family. She didn't need to be spoiled, she never thought of physical things being important.
The evening finally arrived. It was grand. The splendour of the building was remarkable. However, she couldn't help but to feel out of place. James talked to her amongst his relatives as if they just met the night before; short, emotionless sentences, light and meaningless conversations. His parents were certainly impressed by who she was or rather what James fed to them about her. He introduced her as if she was the Queen of England, she laughed at all of this in her head. He lied about her family, her interests, and sold her as a product to please their wealthy minds. She thought his mother's smirks and her snobby aura, amusing. The older woman looked at Kay smiling, she was a handsome woman, pink champagne in one hand and her other arm on her husband. She looked kind, yet she analyzed Kay from head to toe. Her remarks, although kind, sympathetic words, were spoken coldly. Kay couldn't stand this, this pretending, this impressing. More than once she whispered to James about the absurd feel of the evening. However, James ignored her complaints. She wanted no more of this treatment. She couldn't stand this, she couldn't speak out. She was drowning, losing air. At that moment, she excused herself and stepped out into the building's grand foyer. James swiftly followed. He cursed at her ignorance and her bad manners. She started explaining her feelings to him slowly and calmly expecting him to understand. But what started as a rather quiet conversation turned into an uproar, a loud argument. She had all this anger, all this rage building up inside of her. She let all that out, she didn't know she had the courage to speak out this way, not here. At this instant she didn't know herself. Who was this girl, this monster? Why was she yelling and why couldn't she control her arms flying in the air? He grabbed her by the hand and aggressively walked her out of the building. They quickly passed all the people that stopped to stare at them. Their faces appauled by this couple's behaviour, expressing an aura of amusement, disaproval, and snobism- noses in the air. They reached the outside of the building, a burst of fresh, moist air hit Kay's face. It was dark and slightly foggy, a day perfect for rain. He continued to pull her away from the hall, away from the people. He stopped, grasped both of her arms and squeezed them tightly inwards toward her body. He pushed her forcefully backward against a wall of a neighbouring building. Her back slammed onto the rough surface, her head jolted back but she stopped it from hitting the wall. He hurt her. A warm tear escaped from her eye and raced down her cheek. She tried to fight it back but she couldn't. She was shocked. Her knees began to wither and shake; she was scared. She couldn't see his face, it was hidden by the darkness that surrounded them. He began to move closer to her, removed his hands from her arms and pressed himself against her, his hands brushing her back. It was then that she saw his angry eyes. She noticed his face a light shade of red and a vein that she never noticed before emerged on his forehead. "You do this for me," he whispered heavily into her ear. She felt the heat in his breath against her neck. "I made too many sacrifices for you, I'm giving you more than you deserve. Don't embarass me here", he threatened. He sharply let her go, stepped back, and fixed his suit. She stayed still for what seemed like a life time. He must have noticed her innocense, her reluctance to move from where she was standing. He moved slowly towards her again, took her face gently in his hands and kissed her lips slowly. His kiss built with intensity, a rapidly growing crescendo. He reached the forte, all his strength focused on her lips. She tried to keep her mouth closed but it was very quickly empowered by the motion of his tongue. All her strength was overpowered by his. She couldn't resist, she couldn't close her eyes; this hurt too much. Diminuendo. It was over. Her lips numb. She found herself dumbfounded. Was this his love for her? Was this his way of silencing her? He turned away and started walking back into the building. She imagined him passing all the strangers who spotted their heated argument. He was the stronger one, the one who won, he played that grin on his face. She waited by the wall feeling abused and mislead. Counted in her head "one mississipi, two..", trying to regain the feeling in her legs. Her mind was a tangled web. In her head she knew she should cry, she knew this was the time anyone would choose to cry. But no tears came. She didn't feel sorry for herself. She chose this for herself, she wanted to be by his side, she wanted to please this handsome man which provided her with the opportunity for a successful future.
A few moments later, she regained her strength, threw her head in the air and made her way into the main room. Her red evening dress was slightly out of place but no one noticed. Her hair was perfect, her makeup well done, the Queen of England. She walked into this grand room filled with beautiful people. She carefully coordinated her steps, swayed her long dress as she moved. There he was. James. Grinning slyly at her. He came towards her, took her hand, brought her close to him, and whispered in her ear, "You look beautiful". Nobody noticed that hiding behind her lovely smile, and her pounds of makeup on her face, was something out of place, something that hurt her. He hurt her. But nobody cared, she didn't care.
"Kay", said James, "if it's okay with Dom, I'd like to speak with you". She phased out of her memory and slowly replayed his words in her head. Did she hear correctly? She looked at Dom, her eyes pleading for him to object. "Yea, no problem", Dom replied. She couldn't believe this. She wasn't going to let him get her this easily. "What is this regarding?", she asked. "Samantha. I need some advice. I still consider you one of my closest friends, I trust your opinions". Oh yes, Samantha, Kay thought. That girl, that bimbo he left her for, the family favourite. Unbelievable!His rich, materialistic, and very 'smart' girl friend. Everyone knew their story. Both of them happy with their wealth, together as a couple for the purpose of strengthening their empire. A relationship with no love, no emotion. They were created perfectly for eachother, she thought. Where was that girl tonight? and why did he need Kay now? Dom accepted the cue. He slowly got up and mockingly, kissed Kay's hand. "Bring her back safely", he said to James, smiled, and walked back towards the house.
To be continued..............
"Oh, you're finally here!", the door opened wide revealing a large foyer. There was a crystal chandelier hanging in the centre of the room, a closet to the left, and beyond a yellow wall an arch leading to the living room. Marie appeared with a great smile on her face. She was holding some appetizers in her right hand and extending a hug in the other. ''Mike is just around the corner, I'm glad you made it. It's not much of a location, but it's a start, you know? Wait till you see the master bedroom!". Marie was always open and warm hearted. Older by four years, Marie was like a sister Kay never had. Her appearance resembled her brothers, she was a spick image of Dominic. Both had similar features, the same dark eyes and high cheek bones. Marie of course was more slender, more delicate, and unlike Dominic she was always well dressed.
"Everybody, I'm sure you remember my little brother Dominic and his girl friend Kay", she turned to a room filled with twenty or so people. Kay waved but Dominic of course had to be out of the ordinary. He leaped into the crowd with open arms. Everyone was very amused. All the faces in the room were familiar to Kay. She recognized the people from university, standing and laughing together, some were from Mike's job and others old friends of Marie's and Dominic's. They all attended the same school; Her, Mar, Mike, and Dom. They shared contacts, extended their circle of friends, they often spent their breaks together, shared books, and notes. But that was a while ago.
Kate smiled as she walked through the house. It was neat and very well furnished. "Europe", said Marie, noticing Kate's wandering eyes. "Half this stuff is from Mike's side, all wedding gifts". "How lucky you are! It' absolutely charming!", Kate replied squeezing Marie's hand, a sign of happiness for her. Across the hall was Mike, lingering from guest to guest, bringing up random chatter, making sure everyone was comfortable. He was coming over to where they were standing, arms extended. "It's good to see you again", he said. "Happy Birthday Bud! When we saw it we immediately thought of you", Dominic said. He handed Mike a medium sized box. "It's supposed to bring adventure to the bedroom", Kay added and winked. On their trip to the Carribean they came across a dark and beautiful wooden sculpture of a twisted looking figure. It resembled a man and a woman entangled in each other's arms. It was believed to be a fertility sculpture, perfect for the newly weds. "You have to tell me about your vaycay. You're not on your honeymoon, let alone even married, yet you travel so much!", added Marie. Dom smirked at his sister, adding a remark that Kay didn't catch. Something else caught her attention at that moment. Rather, it was someone else that moved her away from where she was standing. Someone familiar but distant standing out on the patio. She pulled Marie aside, away from the group. "Tell me you didn't.." she started. "I did invite him. I had to, he's Mike's good friend", finished Marie.
There he was. James. Ha! What was he now? A lawyer? a doctor? He came from a wealthy family and always used that to his advantage. Tall, blonde, and ravishingly handsome. He was dressed in a light beige suit, elegant but casual. He was standing next to a couple of pretty girls who were waving their drinks and tossing their hair. "That's no surprise", Kay moved her head in his direction, commenting on the two he was with. "I told him to be good, Kay. He won't bother you."
James, she repeated his name in her head. He bought her jewellery, bags, clothes. He dressed her up, introduced her into a world of money, he put her on display for everyone to admire. She did enjoy it at first, she admitted to herself. It was something she's never had before. He made her feel like no one else mattered in the world. She played along with what he wanted, gratified his every need and he fulfilled all her desires, but what a mistake that was. As she stood among a couple of friends, she found herself glancing in his direction. She then looked back at Dom, laughing with Mike, enjoying himself. Oh that honest and caring man. He made her heart melt. He made her feel emotion, he made her feel real and alive. Yet she caught herself constantly glancing at James. That coward, that poser, that liar. That mysterious man and his gorgeous wavy hair, a light shade of blonde. She still remembers the colour of his eyes. They were like the ocean, a deep rich blue. Ew. She realizes she doesn't like that in a man anymore. He was a guy pulled out from a Cosmo magazine; he was always picture perfect. She shook at the thought of him. Goosebumps covered her skin as she replayed in her mind the nights they spent together.
Shit. He noticed her staring. He raised his glass out to her and grinned confidently. Disgusting, she thought. Who did he think he was, all cocky and charming? She hesitantly smiled back and did the same. What she really wanted to do was gag, stick out her tongue, and roll her eyes. She went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and did just that. She fixed her hair up, took a look at her skirt, twirled back and forth. It felt like she was in that room for a long time. Outside of the door she heard laughter, chatter, and a burst of song- "Happy Birthday to you..". She didn't feel like joining in. She stayed inside there for a while, until the song was over. Dominic probably noticed she was gone. She didn't want him looking for her. As she was about to leave, there was a soft tap on the door, followed by a whisper. "You in there, babe?". Oh, good timing, he came for her. He knew her too well, she thought. "Yep, I'll be right out hun", she replied. She took a final look in the mirror and quickly opened the door. However, the smile on her face faded as she looked at the figure infront of her. This was the man who came for her, who attempted to save her. "Why? who else were you expecting?", said James. He had that stupid grin on his face. His emotions were expressed so well by his features; I'm the wise guy, are what his eyes said. She stared at him with a hint of confusion. A long pause followed. The nerve of this guy to barge in on her like this. She was very disapointed. "You look smashing", he broke the silence. "Smashing? Is that the new line for the ladies now?", she replied. Jerk. She stepped out of the bathroom and pushed him gently aside. She didn't want to see him at all, she wanted to forget about his existence. She needed to get away. She entered the living room brushing against a crowd of people. She was looking for Dom. Where was he?
She heard his voice out on the patio. He was always easy to spot because he had the loudest laugh she's ever heard. She motioned towards him, signalling something wasn't right. He immediately noticed her dismay and walked towards her. He playfully took her in his arms and danced her around the crowd. "Lets get out of here for a sec", she whispered to him. She took his hand, led him through the house, and stepped out onto the front yard. They ended up walking along the street, enjoying eachother's company. He comforted her, talked to her, updated her on the stories of the people he'd been talking to. She liked this. She liked the world with him. So safe, secure, so complete. She always thought clearly with him around her, no worry ever clouded her mind. They sat in the park for a while. It was already dark outside. They stared at the random assortment of lights on the buildings around them. There was no pattern to the yellow colours, like stars which crowded a black sky. It wasn't a very loud neighbourhood, she noticed. There were no busy streets around, no engines roaring, only the slight hum of one or two cars passing by in seperated intervals of time.
"Dom, Kay!", a voice yelled behind them. How long were they gone from the the house? At first they didn't hear the voice but then it grew clearer, louder. It was James, waving at them from a distance. Gosh, he always had to poke his way through, always had to keep everything in order, know where everything was, what everyone was doing. "Laura and John are leaving. Marie sent me here for you", he yelled. "I doubt that", she said back. Dom threw her a look. "What?", she said quietly to Dom, "I bet he's the only one who noticed we were gone, he's always budding in where he isn't wanted". James finally reached the bench at where they were sitting. He had a glass of scotch in his hand at which he sipped, an attempt to break the awkward silence. Dom didn't seem to mind him here. He knew about James. Dom knew they were once together but he didn't know the details. She didn't tell him about his jealousy, his agressiveness nor did she mention their moments of intimacy.
Liberty Grand. A gala, it was a ball maybe 3 years back. He presented her to his society as something she wasn't. First, he bought her a dress that he wanted her to wear. It was glamorous, beautiful, and extremely expensive. She refused the gift for she already bought a nice, simple, white dress. But after him insisting it was a gesture of his appreciation, she accepted. She thought she deserved being pampered by him, after all, it was her brains still keeping him in school. If the dress wasn't enough, he surprised her with a day at the spa. He made her up and paid for everything. She didn't think this was necessary. She was a humble girl from a lower middle class family. She didn't need to be spoiled, she never thought of physical things being important.
The evening finally arrived. It was grand. The splendour of the building was remarkable. However, she couldn't help but to feel out of place. James talked to her amongst his relatives as if they just met the night before; short, emotionless sentences, light and meaningless conversations. His parents were certainly impressed by who she was or rather what James fed to them about her. He introduced her as if she was the Queen of England, she laughed at all of this in her head. He lied about her family, her interests, and sold her as a product to please their wealthy minds. She thought his mother's smirks and her snobby aura, amusing. The older woman looked at Kay smiling, she was a handsome woman, pink champagne in one hand and her other arm on her husband. She looked kind, yet she analyzed Kay from head to toe. Her remarks, although kind, sympathetic words, were spoken coldly. Kay couldn't stand this, this pretending, this impressing. More than once she whispered to James about the absurd feel of the evening. However, James ignored her complaints. She wanted no more of this treatment. She couldn't stand this, she couldn't speak out. She was drowning, losing air. At that moment, she excused herself and stepped out into the building's grand foyer. James swiftly followed. He cursed at her ignorance and her bad manners. She started explaining her feelings to him slowly and calmly expecting him to understand. But what started as a rather quiet conversation turned into an uproar, a loud argument. She had all this anger, all this rage building up inside of her. She let all that out, she didn't know she had the courage to speak out this way, not here. At this instant she didn't know herself. Who was this girl, this monster? Why was she yelling and why couldn't she control her arms flying in the air? He grabbed her by the hand and aggressively walked her out of the building. They quickly passed all the people that stopped to stare at them. Their faces appauled by this couple's behaviour, expressing an aura of amusement, disaproval, and snobism- noses in the air. They reached the outside of the building, a burst of fresh, moist air hit Kay's face. It was dark and slightly foggy, a day perfect for rain. He continued to pull her away from the hall, away from the people. He stopped, grasped both of her arms and squeezed them tightly inwards toward her body. He pushed her forcefully backward against a wall of a neighbouring building. Her back slammed onto the rough surface, her head jolted back but she stopped it from hitting the wall. He hurt her. A warm tear escaped from her eye and raced down her cheek. She tried to fight it back but she couldn't. She was shocked. Her knees began to wither and shake; she was scared. She couldn't see his face, it was hidden by the darkness that surrounded them. He began to move closer to her, removed his hands from her arms and pressed himself against her, his hands brushing her back. It was then that she saw his angry eyes. She noticed his face a light shade of red and a vein that she never noticed before emerged on his forehead. "You do this for me," he whispered heavily into her ear. She felt the heat in his breath against her neck. "I made too many sacrifices for you, I'm giving you more than you deserve. Don't embarass me here", he threatened. He sharply let her go, stepped back, and fixed his suit. She stayed still for what seemed like a life time. He must have noticed her innocense, her reluctance to move from where she was standing. He moved slowly towards her again, took her face gently in his hands and kissed her lips slowly. His kiss built with intensity, a rapidly growing crescendo. He reached the forte, all his strength focused on her lips. She tried to keep her mouth closed but it was very quickly empowered by the motion of his tongue. All her strength was overpowered by his. She couldn't resist, she couldn't close her eyes; this hurt too much. Diminuendo. It was over. Her lips numb. She found herself dumbfounded. Was this his love for her? Was this his way of silencing her? He turned away and started walking back into the building. She imagined him passing all the strangers who spotted their heated argument. He was the stronger one, the one who won, he played that grin on his face. She waited by the wall feeling abused and mislead. Counted in her head "one mississipi, two..", trying to regain the feeling in her legs. Her mind was a tangled web. In her head she knew she should cry, she knew this was the time anyone would choose to cry. But no tears came. She didn't feel sorry for herself. She chose this for herself, she wanted to be by his side, she wanted to please this handsome man which provided her with the opportunity for a successful future.
A few moments later, she regained her strength, threw her head in the air and made her way into the main room. Her red evening dress was slightly out of place but no one noticed. Her hair was perfect, her makeup well done, the Queen of England. She walked into this grand room filled with beautiful people. She carefully coordinated her steps, swayed her long dress as she moved. There he was. James. Grinning slyly at her. He came towards her, took her hand, brought her close to him, and whispered in her ear, "You look beautiful". Nobody noticed that hiding behind her lovely smile, and her pounds of makeup on her face, was something out of place, something that hurt her. He hurt her. But nobody cared, she didn't care.
"Kay", said James, "if it's okay with Dom, I'd like to speak with you". She phased out of her memory and slowly replayed his words in her head. Did she hear correctly? She looked at Dom, her eyes pleading for him to object. "Yea, no problem", Dom replied. She couldn't believe this. She wasn't going to let him get her this easily. "What is this regarding?", she asked. "Samantha. I need some advice. I still consider you one of my closest friends, I trust your opinions". Oh yes, Samantha, Kay thought. That girl, that bimbo he left her for, the family favourite. Unbelievable!His rich, materialistic, and very 'smart' girl friend. Everyone knew their story. Both of them happy with their wealth, together as a couple for the purpose of strengthening their empire. A relationship with no love, no emotion. They were created perfectly for eachother, she thought. Where was that girl tonight? and why did he need Kay now? Dom accepted the cue. He slowly got up and mockingly, kissed Kay's hand. "Bring her back safely", he said to James, smiled, and walked back towards the house.
To be continued..............
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Picture the Music
Imagine this..
An oil based painting capturing a busy street, capturing its colour and vibe.
You stare at this painting, neatly assembled in a wooden frame. It mesmerizes you with its simplicity, its common setting. No creativity, no uniqueness. Just a street, a modern yet regular vision.
It pulls you inside. You find yourself within its borders standing on the south east side of the street. The painting defines every detail of it, perfectly clear windows, perfectly sketched cars and bicycles. However it remains motionless and without sound.
You begin to walk north on the oily canvas, the side walk. You realize that walking south would have led you nowhere, a blank piece of paper. The street with all its detailed commodities strictly cut to the place you stand.
Slowly things begin to move. The cars on the busy street regain their speed. They leave a smudge of colour behind them.
You look down. The oil begins to wash out with every step you take on the pavement. Slowly, the bus to the left of you stops and opens its doors. Expressionless faces step out, they walk south, behind you, and leave the painting.
There is no sound. Not yet; for the street is slowly coming to life.
Red, yellow, and orange brick -2 storey buildings outline the street. Some are apartments others reformed into restaurants, cafes, and stores.
Soft and deep colours of green form the trees and shrubs which neatly decorate the small plots of land surrounding the buildings.
You see a smudge of light blue forming in the sky. It brushes passed the leaves on the trees getting tangled in the shades of green. You feel nothing, you hear nothing. But you imagine it is the wind.
You try to envision this wakening city. Reality. The roaring of engines, the ruffle of leaves, the laughter of children running in slow motion on the opposite side walk.
Here its different. All motion leaves the surrounding picture a blurr, a colourful mess.
You begin to hear a sound. One singluar humm in this painting. It grows louder. You start to feel the beat inside you, vibrating through your body, dictating your movement. One happy tune, a song, bringing jump and movement to your feet. It ignores all the detailed music of a real street. No lawn mowers, no cars, no chatter. A world with a jukebox in the clouds. A pepsi commercial, you think.
Everyone begins to smile, to dance along to the music. Not a grumpy soul.
The day on the street- like an outdoor night club.
You try to say something to a girl dancing passed you, twirling in circles and waving her arms. She can't hear you. Nobody can. No diction, just this one song expressing this painted world and its movement. Words are not needed, other sounds are not needed here.
Your every move and every thought is dictated by the colour you leave behind you.
You begin spinning, enjoying this new freedom. Your movement emitting all the colours of your body. The pink in your skin, the blue in your jeans, and the red in your shirt wash off of you, following your every twirl. Soon the whole painting is in motion. Even the bees leave a trail of yellow in the sky, leaving in the air a pretty circular design.
The colour is endless. It continues to empower the painting, springing out of every living entity.
This one song heard by all is like a battery.
Soon, the song will end. The melody slowly dies out, fades out in slow motion.
It gets quiet again. The girl long infront of you starts to lose her movement, lose her trail of colour. The cars get trapped, motionless yet expressing their original speed. The leaves on the trees are captured in a single take. The painting regains its sharpness, its detail. You turn back south and find yourself looking back at the neat wooden frame.
You've jumped out of the painting back to reality. You notice the detailed song of the gallery that surrounds you. Laughter springing from around the corner. An argument arises between two people not far from you. Nobody is dancing or waving their arms. Nobody pays attention to the soft melody playing from the speakers in the building. Here, nature is not dictated by sound and movement is not followed by colour.
A strict, detailed, and unique world -lacking rhythm.
An oil based painting capturing a busy street, capturing its colour and vibe.
You stare at this painting, neatly assembled in a wooden frame. It mesmerizes you with its simplicity, its common setting. No creativity, no uniqueness. Just a street, a modern yet regular vision.
It pulls you inside. You find yourself within its borders standing on the south east side of the street. The painting defines every detail of it, perfectly clear windows, perfectly sketched cars and bicycles. However it remains motionless and without sound.
You begin to walk north on the oily canvas, the side walk. You realize that walking south would have led you nowhere, a blank piece of paper. The street with all its detailed commodities strictly cut to the place you stand.
Slowly things begin to move. The cars on the busy street regain their speed. They leave a smudge of colour behind them.
You look down. The oil begins to wash out with every step you take on the pavement. Slowly, the bus to the left of you stops and opens its doors. Expressionless faces step out, they walk south, behind you, and leave the painting.
There is no sound. Not yet; for the street is slowly coming to life.
Red, yellow, and orange brick -2 storey buildings outline the street. Some are apartments others reformed into restaurants, cafes, and stores.
Soft and deep colours of green form the trees and shrubs which neatly decorate the small plots of land surrounding the buildings.
You see a smudge of light blue forming in the sky. It brushes passed the leaves on the trees getting tangled in the shades of green. You feel nothing, you hear nothing. But you imagine it is the wind.
You try to envision this wakening city. Reality. The roaring of engines, the ruffle of leaves, the laughter of children running in slow motion on the opposite side walk.
Here its different. All motion leaves the surrounding picture a blurr, a colourful mess.
You begin to hear a sound. One singluar humm in this painting. It grows louder. You start to feel the beat inside you, vibrating through your body, dictating your movement. One happy tune, a song, bringing jump and movement to your feet. It ignores all the detailed music of a real street. No lawn mowers, no cars, no chatter. A world with a jukebox in the clouds. A pepsi commercial, you think.
Everyone begins to smile, to dance along to the music. Not a grumpy soul.
The day on the street- like an outdoor night club.
You try to say something to a girl dancing passed you, twirling in circles and waving her arms. She can't hear you. Nobody can. No diction, just this one song expressing this painted world and its movement. Words are not needed, other sounds are not needed here.
Your every move and every thought is dictated by the colour you leave behind you.
You begin spinning, enjoying this new freedom. Your movement emitting all the colours of your body. The pink in your skin, the blue in your jeans, and the red in your shirt wash off of you, following your every twirl. Soon the whole painting is in motion. Even the bees leave a trail of yellow in the sky, leaving in the air a pretty circular design.
The colour is endless. It continues to empower the painting, springing out of every living entity.
This one song heard by all is like a battery.
Soon, the song will end. The melody slowly dies out, fades out in slow motion.
It gets quiet again. The girl long infront of you starts to lose her movement, lose her trail of colour. The cars get trapped, motionless yet expressing their original speed. The leaves on the trees are captured in a single take. The painting regains its sharpness, its detail. You turn back south and find yourself looking back at the neat wooden frame.
You've jumped out of the painting back to reality. You notice the detailed song of the gallery that surrounds you. Laughter springing from around the corner. An argument arises between two people not far from you. Nobody is dancing or waving their arms. Nobody pays attention to the soft melody playing from the speakers in the building. Here, nature is not dictated by sound and movement is not followed by colour.
A strict, detailed, and unique world -lacking rhythm.
Monday, June 16, 2008
To consider..
Euthanasia (mercy killing)
-Passive Euthanasia practised in Canada. A doctor declines a patient further treatment to his/her illness. The patient chooses to die naturally than being on treatment and prolonging his/her life.
- Active Euthanasia not practised in Canada (practised in the Netherlands). A doctor, for the purpose of easing suffering, injects a patient to quicken his/her death. This is also the patients choice.
Passive euthanasia defies the purpose of medicine. Medical practises serve a purpose to ease suffering. This does not necessarily include the prolonging of life. Ones life can be prolonged yet the suffering increased. This is the case of passive euthanasia. I believe that passive euthanasia, which is legal in Canada, is greater of an offense than active euthanasia. It is immoral and unjustly debated. Passive euthanasia allows the patient to die naturally, although death might likely follow, the patient has a high chance of suffeering far more than of he/she were on treatment. For example, a patient in the later stages of throat cancer has a high probability of dying with or without treatment. This form of cancer is un treatable at its later stages. The patient will die in the long run with treatment. However, he can choose to end life sooner by dying naturally. The argument lies in the fact that the choice of passive euthanasia prolongs suffering. In this case, the death of the patient is very painful yet comes sooner than death if he were still on treatment. In such an example, active euthanasia would have been morally applied because it promises a quick and comfortable death. A common misconception about active euthanasia is the future effect it can have on society. The lay public, largely influenced by media, believe that people will prefer choosing this form of death. However, if a person did indeed have a death wish, in today's society he would commit suicide. In addition, the decision to preform active euthanasia does not lie solely on the patient. This decision process does not take a day or even a week. When one in Holland decides on euthanasia, there are multiple tests done to make sure (for 100%) the patient is determined with this decision. His case is studied individually for a minimum of 6 months. In addition, the opinions of a team of medical staff lead to the action. This team carefully analyzes the patient on a step by step basis. Why shouldn't active euthanasia be introduced in Canada? It can be morally applied and serve a good purpose. We shouldn't be afraid of death, for it is a normal process. However chosing how one should die, painfully or not, is our choice.
Cloning, In Vitro Fertilization, Harming of Embryos (to be continued)
Right or Wrong?
-Passive Euthanasia practised in Canada. A doctor declines a patient further treatment to his/her illness. The patient chooses to die naturally than being on treatment and prolonging his/her life.
- Active Euthanasia not practised in Canada (practised in the Netherlands). A doctor, for the purpose of easing suffering, injects a patient to quicken his/her death. This is also the patients choice.
Passive euthanasia defies the purpose of medicine. Medical practises serve a purpose to ease suffering. This does not necessarily include the prolonging of life. Ones life can be prolonged yet the suffering increased. This is the case of passive euthanasia. I believe that passive euthanasia, which is legal in Canada, is greater of an offense than active euthanasia. It is immoral and unjustly debated. Passive euthanasia allows the patient to die naturally, although death might likely follow, the patient has a high chance of suffeering far more than of he/she were on treatment. For example, a patient in the later stages of throat cancer has a high probability of dying with or without treatment. This form of cancer is un treatable at its later stages. The patient will die in the long run with treatment. However, he can choose to end life sooner by dying naturally. The argument lies in the fact that the choice of passive euthanasia prolongs suffering. In this case, the death of the patient is very painful yet comes sooner than death if he were still on treatment. In such an example, active euthanasia would have been morally applied because it promises a quick and comfortable death. A common misconception about active euthanasia is the future effect it can have on society. The lay public, largely influenced by media, believe that people will prefer choosing this form of death. However, if a person did indeed have a death wish, in today's society he would commit suicide. In addition, the decision to preform active euthanasia does not lie solely on the patient. This decision process does not take a day or even a week. When one in Holland decides on euthanasia, there are multiple tests done to make sure (for 100%) the patient is determined with this decision. His case is studied individually for a minimum of 6 months. In addition, the opinions of a team of medical staff lead to the action. This team carefully analyzes the patient on a step by step basis. Why shouldn't active euthanasia be introduced in Canada? It can be morally applied and serve a good purpose. We shouldn't be afraid of death, for it is a normal process. However chosing how one should die, painfully or not, is our choice.
Cloning, In Vitro Fertilization, Harming of Embryos (to be continued)
Right or Wrong?
Monkey Love
In the 1950's Harry F. Harlow, a known psychologist, conducted experiments on infant monkeys and maternal deprivation. The rheus monkey was used to compare what happens when a mother and infant are seperated. In his University of Wisconsin lab Harlow experimented with monkey love. Some little infants were introduced to a surrogate mother, a wire structure embodied with a warm carpet (to mimick the natural mothers body). The other infants were introduced to a wire structure with food enclosed within (no carpet or warmth). Those that were raised with the carpet, held it tightly, cuddled to it, and often chose to be close to this structure than having food. They were frail because of the lack of food, however were mentally compatible and did not express other problems. In contrast, the monkeys raised with the bare metal structure were agressive and had some mental as well as physical problems. The monkeys from each group were then given a choice. They were placed in a cage with both structures, and both monkeys preffered and cuddled to the the structure with carpet. Overall, the experiment proved that cases of surrogacy (even if applied to humans) strongly depended on the bond between the mother and the child. In application to today's society, one can compare this to premature babies grown in incubators. The youngest baby kept in an incubator (and survived) was 22 weeks old. However, these babies often grow into physical, mental disabilities, or long term health defects. Although we have the technology to mimick the environment of a mother's womb, we can not mimick the comforting and caring bond which completes a healthy baby.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
HMS Ontario
A British warship which sailed its last voyage in the 18th century has been discovered on the bottom of Lake Ontario. The HMS Ontario sank 228 years ago during the war of Independence. The ship sailed from Port Niagara in 1780 and was caught in a terrible storm two hours into the voyage to Oswego New York. There were no survivors. However, legend has it that there is a small fortune, gold, accompanying it under 60 metres of water.
This is the oldest ship wreck found in the Great Lakes. It is predicted that there are over 400 sunken ships on the bottom of the Lakes. A little over 220 have been discovered.
Arrrr! A pirates life for me :) It's awesome knowing a little bit of history accompanying the waters we live by. Who knew?
This is the oldest ship wreck found in the Great Lakes. It is predicted that there are over 400 sunken ships on the bottom of the Lakes. A little over 220 have been discovered.
Arrrr! A pirates life for me :) It's awesome knowing a little bit of history accompanying the waters we live by. Who knew?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Kocham
HE WROTE!!
Oh what joy my heart is filled with!
I love him so much <3
Kocham jego szczere serce,
jego madre slowa ktore rozwijaja moj umysl,
jego usmiech ktory zawsze ma na twarzy,
i jego osobowosc ktora jest jasna jak blask, jak slonce.
Oh what joy my heart is filled with!
I love him so much <3
Kocham jego szczere serce,
jego madre slowa ktore rozwijaja moj umysl,
jego usmiech ktory zawsze ma na twarzy,
i jego osobowosc ktora jest jasna jak blask, jak slonce.
"God" Bless you
So I was on the bus today heading to music class. But within me I felt deep uncomfort. I wasn't prepared all the best for todays class.. and wanted to practice some more before I came in. What I was looking for was time. Then.. Whamo! .. I got a call and to my expectations, the class was cancelled and rescheduled for a later time. I love when that happens.. on my way back home I was writing in my 'notebook'.. and a stranger started talkin to me randomly (flashback to my blog "in captivity of ourselves" lol). I was really taken aback b/c it was as if the universe was responding to me. I'm a deep believer that what you think, and how you think it.. you attract to yourself, those r the works of the universe.
{
Is there a God?
Or is this a case of accidental serendipity?
Is there something out there that can hear and answer our worries and concerns?
No. It failed me at times before.
It is us, ourselves, our energy we send out that reflects onto the universe.
The universe is trying to tell each of us smtn, it has our best interest in minds.
[Feelings and motives often ignored by many]
Listen. Listen to your inner self and you will satisfy your dwelling.
[INTERUPTION]
"Some ppl just don't listen. We are idiots", a man sitting next to me says.
Has he been reading what I just wrote on this bus ride?
He was commenting about a lady complaining to the bus driver about expensive fares.
The stranger adds again, in an East European accent,
"I'm studying at UfT, philosophy, and even I think I am an idiot sometimes".
At this moment, I am shocked. Talking to a stranger about idiocy?
I chuckle, and respond "No, I'm sure you just get caught up in weird moments".
He smiles and takes off his baseball cap; Balvaria, it said on the front.
"See this scar?" he points to his slightly disfigured head.
"It's a result of idiocy, a car accident. I was in a coma for 3 months. during these moments my wife was planning a divorce. This was five years ago."
"I'm sorry", I reply.
He smiles and nods, "44 is my age, big number, small in meaning".
I laugh, "well, you look younger".
"You are too kind", he says and gets up. This is his stop.
"God Bless you, and take good care of yourself".
}
Isn't that something else? This mans story; a coma, divorce, all in one. Wow. A stranger on the bus, yet for that instant he existed as someone I knew in my universe. He broke the rules of the red box. Who was he though? I probably won't ever see him again. He vanished behind the doors of the bus, and vanished from my life.
{
Is there a God?
Or is this a case of accidental serendipity?
Is there something out there that can hear and answer our worries and concerns?
No. It failed me at times before.
It is us, ourselves, our energy we send out that reflects onto the universe.
The universe is trying to tell each of us smtn, it has our best interest in minds.
[Feelings and motives often ignored by many]
Listen. Listen to your inner self and you will satisfy your dwelling.
[INTERUPTION]
"Some ppl just don't listen. We are idiots", a man sitting next to me says.
Has he been reading what I just wrote on this bus ride?
He was commenting about a lady complaining to the bus driver about expensive fares.
The stranger adds again, in an East European accent,
"I'm studying at UfT, philosophy, and even I think I am an idiot sometimes".
At this moment, I am shocked. Talking to a stranger about idiocy?
I chuckle, and respond "No, I'm sure you just get caught up in weird moments".
He smiles and takes off his baseball cap; Balvaria, it said on the front.
"See this scar?" he points to his slightly disfigured head.
"It's a result of idiocy, a car accident. I was in a coma for 3 months. during these moments my wife was planning a divorce. This was five years ago."
"I'm sorry", I reply.
He smiles and nods, "44 is my age, big number, small in meaning".
I laugh, "well, you look younger".
"You are too kind", he says and gets up. This is his stop.
"God Bless you, and take good care of yourself".
}
Isn't that something else? This mans story; a coma, divorce, all in one. Wow. A stranger on the bus, yet for that instant he existed as someone I knew in my universe. He broke the rules of the red box. Who was he though? I probably won't ever see him again. He vanished behind the doors of the bus, and vanished from my life.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Nature's Embrace
I decided to carry a small notebook with me wherever I go. That way I can capture the words that flow through my mind at that instant. Here’s what I came up with on my way home on the 35 bus, observing patches of green between concrete structures as I stared out the window.
Simple girl in a t-shirt.
Hair left down for the wind to tease.
Barefoot. Feeling every strand of grass beneath her feet.
She enjoys that delicate tickle as she brushes her foot back and forth, back and forth against that patch of green.
She smiles looking down on her feet, how silly she must look to one passing by.
But she doesn’t care. At the moment she feels like a part of the earth, invisible, not connected and attached to her body. She encaptures every small sensation around her. She closes her eyes and opens her arms out wide. She wants to hug the wind that gently blows past her. She listens to it, waits for it to whisper something in her ear. She sways a little in its direction. It guides her north. Its whistles fill her head with colour. She sees what it sees, feels everything it touches. She opens her eyes, blinded briefly by the yellow and white tones of colour. The sun. She imagines every ray of sunlight that is touching her body and every ray that is blocked by the fabric of her shirt. She lifts her shirt, slightly revealing her stomach. She allows for the chemical reaction to occur. We were born nude for this very reason, she thinks. The heat raptures her bare skin forming small droplets of sweat. Her skin changes a slight pink by this incredible source of energy.
She stares at the changes that surround her. The clouds moving as the wind guides them, hiding the sun away from her. The wind takes over again.
She lies down on the grass looking up and admiring the greens of the trees. Different shades of green varying by the touch of shadow or sun. The wind blows ever so gently rustling each leaf of these grand, tall structures. She tries to count the number of leaves waving against the breeze, imagining each one as a unique shape and figure.
Trees, sprung from the ground, so majestic and eloquent, smiling at those who admire them. An equilibrium of nature, providing air for those who desire to rest under their shade. She imagines a heartbeat inside its core. She leans in and listens to the flow of nutrients directed from the ground to the trees submissive foliage. She wonders if it too can hear her, sense her energy.
Somewhere she hears a river flowing. Its waves caressing every rock it passes. It produces a hum which increases in intensity as it nears a slope. The colour of the water vivid in her mind, ranging from light to dark blue; a reflection of the sky. She can sense and almost touch the translucent smell. A distinct light exposure that she formulates in her mind.
She continues to lie on the grass, admiring everything alive that embodies her.
She is a part of the earth, part of its beauty that embraces the willingness to grow, guided by the sun.
Simple girl in a t-shirt.
Hair left down for the wind to tease.
Barefoot. Feeling every strand of grass beneath her feet.
She enjoys that delicate tickle as she brushes her foot back and forth, back and forth against that patch of green.
She smiles looking down on her feet, how silly she must look to one passing by.
But she doesn’t care. At the moment she feels like a part of the earth, invisible, not connected and attached to her body. She encaptures every small sensation around her. She closes her eyes and opens her arms out wide. She wants to hug the wind that gently blows past her. She listens to it, waits for it to whisper something in her ear. She sways a little in its direction. It guides her north. Its whistles fill her head with colour. She sees what it sees, feels everything it touches. She opens her eyes, blinded briefly by the yellow and white tones of colour. The sun. She imagines every ray of sunlight that is touching her body and every ray that is blocked by the fabric of her shirt. She lifts her shirt, slightly revealing her stomach. She allows for the chemical reaction to occur. We were born nude for this very reason, she thinks. The heat raptures her bare skin forming small droplets of sweat. Her skin changes a slight pink by this incredible source of energy.
She stares at the changes that surround her. The clouds moving as the wind guides them, hiding the sun away from her. The wind takes over again.
She lies down on the grass looking up and admiring the greens of the trees. Different shades of green varying by the touch of shadow or sun. The wind blows ever so gently rustling each leaf of these grand, tall structures. She tries to count the number of leaves waving against the breeze, imagining each one as a unique shape and figure.
Trees, sprung from the ground, so majestic and eloquent, smiling at those who admire them. An equilibrium of nature, providing air for those who desire to rest under their shade. She imagines a heartbeat inside its core. She leans in and listens to the flow of nutrients directed from the ground to the trees submissive foliage. She wonders if it too can hear her, sense her energy.
Somewhere she hears a river flowing. Its waves caressing every rock it passes. It produces a hum which increases in intensity as it nears a slope. The colour of the water vivid in her mind, ranging from light to dark blue; a reflection of the sky. She can sense and almost touch the translucent smell. A distinct light exposure that she formulates in her mind.
She continues to lie on the grass, admiring everything alive that embodies her.
She is a part of the earth, part of its beauty that embraces the willingness to grow, guided by the sun.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Maybe he'll call. She remembers telling him not to. She always wanted to show she was stronger and independent. Not dependent on anyone, especially him.
[She can do this on her own]
She always liked keeping herself busy with little projects, things she enjoyed doing for herself. He knew that. He gave her the freedom to do whatever she wanted, this made her happy. She always thought of herself as a colourful spirit, a free flowing mind, and seclusive respectively. Never did she doubt herself or her emotions for him. She knew he was one of a kind, maybe the one.
But why was this difficult? They've done this before.
They've been apart many a time.
[Answers]
Maybe its the way they parted that is eating at her conscience.
That last week, almost like pretending he wasn't going away.
His mind was too occupied with plans. Too focused on the packing, the last details of his trip.
How could she interfere with that? She didn't want to get in the way. It was too important for him. Why trouble him with her concerns, her thoughts, her days and perspectives?
He wouldn't want to hear. But no more she wanted to hear about him.
He was leaving, she knew. Too painful to sit there while he took all his belongs, all that he held dear to him.. gone. All that was left of him, all that defined who he was. She knew she'd just sit there in silence.
[Silence]
Silence, the most dreaded state.
Where thoughts of all sorts swim in circles, swim in colours, ideas, and ideals.
A path for questions, answers, solutions, and problems to follow.
All assymetrical, without definition, without principle, following eachother in an almost undefined dimension.
A whirlpool of the imagination; pulling her down into unnecessary worries:
Maybe, this time it's him leaving her; leaving the summer she had planned for the both of them.
The expectations she had. The visions of laughter, adventures, moments of intimacy.
All that passed away.
A feeling of emptiness surrounds her. She should've told him what was on her mind.
Now he may never know. A lack of their conversations.
She knows he won't call her anymore. All that was said was said, all that was done was done.
That last week, she remembers. Too little said to eachother.
Even on his part. No emotion, just stress. He left her for something else, something that closed him infront of her.
Though she's happy for him and wouldn't want it any other way..
she fears this will be constant. Constant emptiness. Constant busy. No conversation.
Time and no contact; fear. No joy in sharing her stories.
She longs to hear his comments, his logic, his way of thinking, solving any problems she may have had. He always told her he cared, always filled her soul with love, with positive thoughts and trust. Always satisfied her inner self, completed her heart.
Empowered her body with beautiful feelings, a sence of pleasure and amazement.
She longed him like the earth longing sun rays peering through a cloudy sky. That burst of sunlight through darkness. That is what he is.
[Noise]
The silence is gone.
All the parallel emotions and thoughts of her mind rekindled with symmetry.
The daze is over. He will come back. Reassurance.
They will share their adventures, and continue with their ever changing lives.
[She can do this on her own]
She always liked keeping herself busy with little projects, things she enjoyed doing for herself. He knew that. He gave her the freedom to do whatever she wanted, this made her happy. She always thought of herself as a colourful spirit, a free flowing mind, and seclusive respectively. Never did she doubt herself or her emotions for him. She knew he was one of a kind, maybe the one.
But why was this difficult? They've done this before.
They've been apart many a time.
[Answers]
Maybe its the way they parted that is eating at her conscience.
That last week, almost like pretending he wasn't going away.
His mind was too occupied with plans. Too focused on the packing, the last details of his trip.
How could she interfere with that? She didn't want to get in the way. It was too important for him. Why trouble him with her concerns, her thoughts, her days and perspectives?
He wouldn't want to hear. But no more she wanted to hear about him.
He was leaving, she knew. Too painful to sit there while he took all his belongs, all that he held dear to him.. gone. All that was left of him, all that defined who he was. She knew she'd just sit there in silence.
[Silence]
Silence, the most dreaded state.
Where thoughts of all sorts swim in circles, swim in colours, ideas, and ideals.
A path for questions, answers, solutions, and problems to follow.
All assymetrical, without definition, without principle, following eachother in an almost undefined dimension.
A whirlpool of the imagination; pulling her down into unnecessary worries:
Maybe, this time it's him leaving her; leaving the summer she had planned for the both of them.
The expectations she had. The visions of laughter, adventures, moments of intimacy.
All that passed away.
A feeling of emptiness surrounds her. She should've told him what was on her mind.
Now he may never know. A lack of their conversations.
She knows he won't call her anymore. All that was said was said, all that was done was done.
That last week, she remembers. Too little said to eachother.
Even on his part. No emotion, just stress. He left her for something else, something that closed him infront of her.
Though she's happy for him and wouldn't want it any other way..
she fears this will be constant. Constant emptiness. Constant busy. No conversation.
Time and no contact; fear. No joy in sharing her stories.
She longs to hear his comments, his logic, his way of thinking, solving any problems she may have had. He always told her he cared, always filled her soul with love, with positive thoughts and trust. Always satisfied her inner self, completed her heart.
Empowered her body with beautiful feelings, a sence of pleasure and amazement.
She longed him like the earth longing sun rays peering through a cloudy sky. That burst of sunlight through darkness. That is what he is.
[Noise]
The silence is gone.
All the parallel emotions and thoughts of her mind rekindled with symmetry.
The daze is over. He will come back. Reassurance.
They will share their adventures, and continue with their ever changing lives.
Amor.. my silly little puppy
Small black ball of fluff. That's how I remember him.A little creature curious of everything he sees, smells, and touches.
Walking towards everything that looks unique but safe to him.
An adventurous little mind filled with compassion and love.
Not blinded by prejudice. Not filled with disgust or mistrust.
A companion that welcomes you with a huge smile and wagging little tail.
He waits by the bedroom door in the morning, listening to signs of slight movement.
Waits for you, no matter how grumpy and ridiculous you look when you wake up.
What matters is your presence.
He feels and shares that love, a special connection between you and him.
And he knows he's my boo bear, lying on his little back waiting for his belly to be tickled.
A joyful and vivid little character. A hyper and happy little soul.
Mischevious and protective in his own right.
Head turning slightly to the left, to the right. Did I do something wrong? he wonders.
Waiting to be taught and told.
Trade my shoe for a treat, a fair punishment, I think.
Little confused ball of fluff, he knows he did something wrong.. walking with his tail down.
Oh! but I love him anyway. His soft little black curls.Bright pink tongue that gets its fair share of action.
Kisses, this little Romeo's favourite thing in the world.
Little floppy ears that catch on every word I say; "park", "treat", "toy".
My lively toy who keeps my feet warm at night.
The smallest things mean so much.
He always brightens a gloomy day, always accompanies me everywhere I go. The perfect companion for all seasons.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
In Captivity of Ourselves
Are we so different you and I?
Though our eyes are different, do you not see what I see?
Though our styles are different, are we blind to beauty and colour?
When the doors on the bus open, do we not all experience the same vision
as we glance at those who are boarding?
Do we not all have that one instant of time in common?
That second of our lives commonly shared?
Although a routine,
familiar yet distant faces board the bus,
leave the bus without end.
I may never see you again.
I may never get to know who you are.
We don't know who we are, yet we experience so much for that instant.
The bus drives on.
Do you hear the street name being called out?
See the same images passing by outside the window?
We are similar, sharing these specific details.
Yet we are mute. Strangers we are.
No trust, no reaching out.
Neglected, selfish individuals sitting, standing
-all amongst strangers.
Danger? Enemies?
We all stay mute. Ignorance.
Are we all so close minded to objectify eachother on a daily basis?
Abuse eachother as society dictates- do what is expected of us all.
What are these invisible borders?
where do they start, when do they end?
Why can't I ask who you are?
Am I such a stranger?-a careless individual seeking random conversation?
Are we so different you and I? do I bring fear?
Is my person meaningless to you?
A gentleman reads a book, a mother cares for her child.
Who are you? Will I ever see you all again?
If I do, will you remember me?
Remember this moment and all the different faces captured in it?
That one red bus, holding strangers in captivity of themselves.
A box with wheels, a man-made invention, made to improve our means.
But does it?
Closing strangers in a social trap, an outcry far from being open and free.
A box, when opened releasing not one, but many beings full of unique thoughts and interests.
Bursting with different histories, different experiences, lives, and ideas.
Escaping the moment, my wonder to know, as they walk out those doors.
All kept within oneself, not willing to share or express.
That one bus ride, colourful and eloquent everytime.
Capturing individuality, singularity in one shared moment.
Are we so different you and I,
in captivity of ourselves,
that we keep within us the stories of our lives?
Though our eyes are different, do you not see what I see?
Though our styles are different, are we blind to beauty and colour?
When the doors on the bus open, do we not all experience the same vision
as we glance at those who are boarding?
Do we not all have that one instant of time in common?
That second of our lives commonly shared?
Although a routine,
familiar yet distant faces board the bus,
leave the bus without end.
I may never see you again.
I may never get to know who you are.
We don't know who we are, yet we experience so much for that instant.
The bus drives on.
Do you hear the street name being called out?
See the same images passing by outside the window?
We are similar, sharing these specific details.
Yet we are mute. Strangers we are.
No trust, no reaching out.
Neglected, selfish individuals sitting, standing
-all amongst strangers.
Danger? Enemies?
We all stay mute. Ignorance.
Are we all so close minded to objectify eachother on a daily basis?
Abuse eachother as society dictates- do what is expected of us all.
What are these invisible borders?
where do they start, when do they end?
Why can't I ask who you are?
Am I such a stranger?-a careless individual seeking random conversation?
Are we so different you and I? do I bring fear?
Is my person meaningless to you?
A gentleman reads a book, a mother cares for her child.
Who are you? Will I ever see you all again?
If I do, will you remember me?
Remember this moment and all the different faces captured in it?
That one red bus, holding strangers in captivity of themselves.
A box with wheels, a man-made invention, made to improve our means.
But does it?
Closing strangers in a social trap, an outcry far from being open and free.
A box, when opened releasing not one, but many beings full of unique thoughts and interests.
Bursting with different histories, different experiences, lives, and ideas.
Escaping the moment, my wonder to know, as they walk out those doors.
All kept within oneself, not willing to share or express.
That one bus ride, colourful and eloquent everytime.
Capturing individuality, singularity in one shared moment.
Are we so different you and I,
in captivity of ourselves,
that we keep within us the stories of our lives?
The Frozen Ark
In 30 years 1,100 different species of animals and 1,800 varieties of birds are expected to disapear. Within those numbers, 1 quarter of all mammals!
Linda Hurst's article, "The Frozen Ark- Toward Jurassic Park" made this all very clear.
What caught my attention about this article, other than its catchy title, is what scientists are doing to decrease this problem. The genetic footprints of the endangered and most threatened species are gathered and preserved. It's like a modern day Noah's ark. Collect, preserve, and in a worst case scenario ..clone!
Cloning has been given a lot of negative attention throughout the years. Here is yet another positive aspect of the procedure.
There are arguments against this DNA preservation. One problem is calling the Frozen Ark a "Doomsday Vault". It is true that instead of acting now to save the endangered, enforcing more laws in the world to protect the animals, the scientists are focused on "collecting" these tissue samples. However, that is ignorant to say because there are organizations such as the WWF, or peta that have animal issues as their number one priority. Another downer on the project is that it requires a lot of work; it's labour intense- a lot of digging, travelling, microscoping, research (that sounds great to me, actually :P).
Scientists have already started a parallel project, known as the international seed bank which is housed in the Norwegian Artic. This bank contains millions of seeds from every variety of food on earth (just in case we need to learn to grow food "from scratch"). The Frozen Ark is similar, in that small tissue samples, eggs, sperm, and embryos of animals are frozen and preserved in liquid nitrogen (which can be later used in artificial reproduction). This process is already in the works with the panda population in China... and (this is exciting!) genetic material has been extracted from the tasmanian tiger! -once the largest marsupial that went extinct in the 1900's. Scientist's extracted the DNA from a 100 year old tiger which was preserved in alcohol in the Melbourne museum. When they injected the DNA into a mouse embryo.. it was alivee! Striking!
Hopefully in 30 years, that prediction of losing the specified number of species will hold untrue. But just incase, it is interesting to hear that actions such as this are in the works now :) Save planet earth!!
Linda Hurst's article, "The Frozen Ark- Toward Jurassic Park" made this all very clear.
What caught my attention about this article, other than its catchy title, is what scientists are doing to decrease this problem. The genetic footprints of the endangered and most threatened species are gathered and preserved. It's like a modern day Noah's ark. Collect, preserve, and in a worst case scenario ..clone!
Cloning has been given a lot of negative attention throughout the years. Here is yet another positive aspect of the procedure.
There are arguments against this DNA preservation. One problem is calling the Frozen Ark a "Doomsday Vault". It is true that instead of acting now to save the endangered, enforcing more laws in the world to protect the animals, the scientists are focused on "collecting" these tissue samples. However, that is ignorant to say because there are organizations such as the WWF, or peta that have animal issues as their number one priority. Another downer on the project is that it requires a lot of work; it's labour intense- a lot of digging, travelling, microscoping, research (that sounds great to me, actually :P).
Scientists have already started a parallel project, known as the international seed bank which is housed in the Norwegian Artic. This bank contains millions of seeds from every variety of food on earth (just in case we need to learn to grow food "from scratch"). The Frozen Ark is similar, in that small tissue samples, eggs, sperm, and embryos of animals are frozen and preserved in liquid nitrogen (which can be later used in artificial reproduction). This process is already in the works with the panda population in China... and (this is exciting!) genetic material has been extracted from the tasmanian tiger! -once the largest marsupial that went extinct in the 1900's. Scientist's extracted the DNA from a 100 year old tiger which was preserved in alcohol in the Melbourne museum. When they injected the DNA into a mouse embryo.. it was alivee! Striking!
Hopefully in 30 years, that prediction of losing the specified number of species will hold untrue. But just incase, it is interesting to hear that actions such as this are in the works now :) Save planet earth!!
Revised
Break the rules.
I'm sleeping in my clothes tonight
a paradigm not far from fright.
I want to.
What are those deep desires?
Too much not knowing?
Too little to aspire?
I had that dream,
held it- but it's gone tonight.
Pulled out-
grasped out of the heart and soul.
Physically touched and strained out.
Nothing. Empty. Waiting.
Left to lay accompanied by reason,
It's unbearable plight and impetuous crudeness.
-thx C. DM
I'm sleeping in my clothes tonight
a paradigm not far from fright.
I want to.
What are those deep desires?
Too much not knowing?
Too little to aspire?
I had that dream,
held it- but it's gone tonight.
Pulled out-
grasped out of the heart and soul.
Physically touched and strained out.
Nothing. Empty. Waiting.
Left to lay accompanied by reason,
It's unbearable plight and impetuous crudeness.
-thx C. DM
Monday, June 2, 2008
Work in Progress
A work in progress; I was in deep thought when these words came to me, my mind actually sang this out as if to a tune. But I've lost that same feeling- and can't seem to finish it.
Any suggestions r welcome :)
Break the rules.
I'm sleeping in my clothes tonight
a paradigm not far from fright.
I want to.
What are those deep desires?
Too much not knowing?
Too little to aspire?
I had that dream,
held it- but it's gone tonight.
Vanishing before me as I remain in darkness.
Any suggestions r welcome :)
Break the rules.
I'm sleeping in my clothes tonight
a paradigm not far from fright.
I want to.
What are those deep desires?
Too much not knowing?
Too little to aspire?
I had that dream,
held it- but it's gone tonight.
Vanishing before me as I remain in darkness.
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