Saturday, July 02, 2011

2:05 a.m.

Life, as we know it - can never be understood no matter how hard we try.

We go through life, as mundane as it may be and sometimes we lose sight of where we are heading, or what we are doing.

But random happenings will manifest itself; in the form of a book, a passage one chance upon, a conversation, a realization, a brief thought.

They remind us that we are here, still. Shouldn't we then be grateful?

For another day, another minute, another second.

another chance.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

And I picked up my fingers again

I've realized just recently that it had been ages since I have read a good book. A story book to transport me to times past, present and future. A book to push my bed time later than usual, risking blank stares and blurry thoughts the following morning. Atenolol, paracetamol-wha?

Thus in the midst of all the other work still pending (despite being already a working woman, I do still have assignments to complete, presentations to present and a research paper to write-how mad can we get?), I picked up a book from the shelf and started to read.

The book was The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri.

I found myself daydreaming about the characters, thinking about them as I drive to work, as I bathe, as I eat, looking forward to the time when I cosy myself on the bed with the book before retiring for the night.

Suffice to say, I Missed reading. With a capital M.

While on the subject of picking up old habits, this distant memory of distinctly owning a blog stole itself into my consciousness.

Reading what I have written, I marvel at how time passes by so stealthily, nay a noise.

So here I am again, having words manifest themselves from the brain through the nerves to the muscles to the screen. Random words with constant erasing of grammatical boo-boos and spelling errors-I'm convinced my England is going down the longkang.

But of it feels so good.


Would wearing one's heart on one's sleeves be better than being sensitive to others' feelings?