One of the more moving sights:
To see a mother; crying as she punishes her child.
What whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, hopes and fears brews in furrows of a mother when she realises she cant change the way the world spins; not even for her baby.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
That maniac behind the wheel
To me the best way to enjoy music is still in a car.
Listen to it on your computer: you are busy chatting to appretiate any auditory input
Listen to it on your bed: you fall asleep
Listen to it while studying: what da heck (?!?) tengah stress la ni!
Listen to it while mopping the floor: Hmmm i actually like doing that..
Alone cruising or parked next to a serene lake.
Your heart soars and dives with the rippling melody, you nibble chew and savour chunks of succulent lyrics. And when you feel like it, just because you feel like it, you sing a song for yourself; for the people you've met; for the people you have yet to meet. Sometimes the song has words, sometimes a tune, sometimes just a deep breath and a smile.
Oh wells too bad my car radio always goes fuzzy...
"It is easier to please the world, than it is to please myself"
Yeap yeap.
Listen to it on your computer: you are busy chatting to appretiate any auditory input
Listen to it on your bed: you fall asleep
Listen to it while studying: what da heck (?!?) tengah stress la ni!
Listen to it while mopping the floor: Hmmm i actually like doing that..
Alone cruising or parked next to a serene lake.
Your heart soars and dives with the rippling melody, you nibble chew and savour chunks of succulent lyrics. And when you feel like it, just because you feel like it, you sing a song for yourself; for the people you've met; for the people you have yet to meet. Sometimes the song has words, sometimes a tune, sometimes just a deep breath and a smile.
Oh wells too bad my car radio always goes fuzzy...
"It is easier to please the world, than it is to please myself"
Yeap yeap.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Ikea lamps
The Ikea lamp isn't working. The one that gives my tiny room a warm yellowy orangey glow. The one that welcomes me home after a long day. The one that calms me before exams. The one that reads Neil Gaiman with me. The one that i leave on at nights to see the time in the mornings. The one that was my favourite-est.
Some things break your heart like that. Give you a glowing glimpse of what things could be, then fizzle out on you with a lil *pop* as easy as it would be to snap a wound up filament.
This nauseating familiarity. Oh wells drama keeps us going.
ps: I'm loving semester 8! Took me awhile to realise this but I'm finally loving clinical school! I suspect it has allot to do with finishing most of the postings by now, and so things make more sense when you have that kind of perspective.
" Vision from afar has more perspective however, it sees less"
Who knew an opthalmo lecture on anatomy and physiology of the eye could be turn out philosophical!
One is considered wise when you have enough perspective on things to make well balanced decisions. These wise decisions, time tested, save you from 'uneccesary heartache'. The person giving the wise advise probably learned their precious lesson through experience. They fell, they scraped, they got up to tell the tale. Then the stage is set for us younglings, the choices are laid out. If we heed the wise promtings we skip steps 1, and 2 and live to tell the tale of the wise decision we made........is that enough?
Is it enough to have perspective, but not see the details? Is it enough to give a running commentary on a football game while sitting on your overstuffed sofa criticizing each miss, when you have never run the field nor experienced the dizzy feeling of not being able to find an open team member? It would not be 'your' game if you came out of it unscratched, you would not feel that smug satisfaction in your belly until you've got a scrape of two, battle wounds so to say from the game. Put that in life, would relying on the lessons learned by someone else run the risk of me playing a modified version of their life instead of my own? What if i want to see the details; ugly as they may be?
This post has no real flow....
And i thought identity crisis resolves by adulthood.
Some things break your heart like that. Give you a glowing glimpse of what things could be, then fizzle out on you with a lil *pop* as easy as it would be to snap a wound up filament.
This nauseating familiarity. Oh wells drama keeps us going.
ps: I'm loving semester 8! Took me awhile to realise this but I'm finally loving clinical school! I suspect it has allot to do with finishing most of the postings by now, and so things make more sense when you have that kind of perspective.
" Vision from afar has more perspective however, it sees less"
Who knew an opthalmo lecture on anatomy and physiology of the eye could be turn out philosophical!
One is considered wise when you have enough perspective on things to make well balanced decisions. These wise decisions, time tested, save you from 'uneccesary heartache'. The person giving the wise advise probably learned their precious lesson through experience. They fell, they scraped, they got up to tell the tale. Then the stage is set for us younglings, the choices are laid out. If we heed the wise promtings we skip steps 1, and 2 and live to tell the tale of the wise decision we made........is that enough?
Is it enough to have perspective, but not see the details? Is it enough to give a running commentary on a football game while sitting on your overstuffed sofa criticizing each miss, when you have never run the field nor experienced the dizzy feeling of not being able to find an open team member? It would not be 'your' game if you came out of it unscratched, you would not feel that smug satisfaction in your belly until you've got a scrape of two, battle wounds so to say from the game. Put that in life, would relying on the lessons learned by someone else run the risk of me playing a modified version of their life instead of my own? What if i want to see the details; ugly as they may be?
This post has no real flow....
And i thought identity crisis resolves by adulthood.
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