Saturday, June 12, 2010

Muse

The fervor has fizzled.

The enthusiasm to write has started to slowly die off, and this is consequently evident in my posts - all the recent boring nothingness and unimaginative rantings.

I would liken my writings at the moment to a can of carbonated drink left overnight and no longer gives that burst of zangy taste you get when it was first opened. What i have to offer right now is just stale, nasty sugared water. And really, who in their right minds would want that?

Sometimes, I still feel the urgent need to write if only to slightly irrigate the arid land of that literary part of my brain. I might start with a short sentence (and not necessarily even a good one) hoping to come up with something beautiful and flawless with each word i type. Instead, again and again I find myself trailing off for no reason towards the path of ugliness.

So I will refrain from writing. For your sake, if not my own. 

At least for now.

p/s: With all that's happening in the world, i find that writing about the banality of my life makes me more acutely aware of its insignificance. Not good. 

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Shoes for Dad

It was an adventure that took me 2 years, 3 countries, and a whole bucketful load of frustrations and misunderstandings.

But i finally found it. The perfect shoes for dad. Black, just the way he likes it, with tinges of dusty red at the edges, an added flair I thought was pleasantly appealing. I made sure the soles were of leather, the size just right. Then i wrapped it in a box sealed with love.

I hope he wears it to work, shiny and new. I hope someone would comment how nice it looks. I hope he would beamed at the compliment. "My daughter bought it for me" i hope he'd say, proud and happy.

And i hope he'll remember me whenever he wears those black shoes with tinges of red.

That pair of shoes from his daughter. =)

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Obvious

I didn't think I was.

But i might have been wrong.

This is really bothering me
- the fact that my friends see the inside of my soul before i do. It makes me feel vulnerable, naked, utterly exposed.

And then, after such an emotionally-charged and volatile moment, they shrug it off so nonchalantly while i'm left to fight with my inner demons. Morning and night. Alone.

I am weak.

I hate it.

"What are well-guarded secrets when those secrets aren't really secrets to begin with?"