Keep it safe
Hide it away
That's that heart
Always afraid.
Doesn't take risks
Afraid of being
The fool,
But you have everything
to lose.
Feeling a little blue
But what can you do
When you are afraid
To move.

While reading captivating, I am also starting to realize that I have not fallen in love with God. It's more of reverence for Him rather than true love. The things I do, are they done out of love for Him, or is it for His people, or is it for my own feel-good factor? What does it really mean to fall in love with God? Mind-boggling.

Captivating- John and Stasi Eldredge

Was given this book as a baptism gift by(from?) Janice. She had mentioned she loved their (Christian couple) books. Although the theme/idea is not exactly new, I actually found it quite radical, albeit a little hard to accept. That a woman is passive, is defined by love, has a need to be pursued, etc...but i cant make a judgment now till i finish the book. There are some parts I love though like how God romances us by showing us gifts He know will make us excited and happy. For John, it was sighting of a whale during one of his walks on the beach, for Stasi it was a starfish and then a whole bunch of them on one of her walks alone as well. It reminds me of that one moment when I was 16, past midnight in Dec (couple of days I think before my b'day), seeing my cousin out of the house, and then watching her from the corridor to see that she got in to her father's car, I saw the brightest blue shooting star (the first time i saw a shooting star actually) shot across the Orion and the full moon. The sky that night was unbelievably clear but seriously, it was the least expected. My place was on the 5th floor and surrounded by neighboring flats that I could barely see much skies. And that blue star just seemed to come Of nowhere, in between the rows of flats....That moment left one gasping in awe. And yes, have to agree that the Creator is the best artist there is in the Universe and that He appreciates beauty as much as we do.
Although subsequently I had made intentional trips to see the meteor showers (Leonids), none could measure up to that one shooting star. I wish to feel that kind of awe again.

This side of paradise-Scott F Fitzgerald

Magnificent work of literary art. Not much of a plot, the whole story revolved around Amory Blaine- his weaknesses, insanity, love affairs.... The language used is just so poetic and "ornamented"... It gives one pure pleasure in reading it. What I loved most is his little summer love affair with Eleanor (a name I incidentally used in my story a few days ago before getting to the part where Eleanor appeared in "this side", talk about coincidences). I guess I liked their chemistry more than the one with Rosalind, even though at the time of reading I had thought to myself that the Rosalind part was quite the climax in the story; Eleanor one-upped Rosalind eventually.
however, at the end of the story, we knew that Amory never got over Rosalind. The story ended rather blandly with him arguing with two men about socialism and with him crying out for Rosalind and finally declaring that his greatest accomplishment in life was knowing himself very well, that's all.
If I am not wrong, Fitzgerald probably threw things he liked into this story- poetries, plays, books, etc. The Rosalind part was written much like a play, with commentaries(?) such as [exits Alec, enters Rosalind]. There were some really nice poems in there, that were supposedly written by Eleanor, Amory, and Burne(?).
Would want to re-read this another day, probably in hard copy form rather than electronically.

Empty throne

The stench of yesterday,
He could not wash away.
He stood alone,
Before the empty throne.
Tomorrow is still a dream
That lives in his stream
Of consciousness.
And today, today,
He stands alone
With the things he has forayed,
All the battles won,
Have come to none.
He now stands a broken man,
On a no-man's land.
What good are glory, fame, and gold?
He realizes too late,
When Fate does not bring
Him the one thing
His heart longs for,
A love that is pure and true.

The sting of your virulent words

Crippled laughs
Fractured past

Poem from This Side of Paradise

“The fading things we only know We’ll have forgotten ...
Put away ...
Desires that melted with the snow,
And dreams begotten This to-day
The sudden dawns we laughed to greet, That all could see, that none could share,
Will be but dawns ... and if we meet We shall not care.
Dear ... not one tear will rise for this ... A little while hence
No regret
Will stir for a remembered kiss—
Not even silence, When we’ve met,
Will give old ghosts a waste to roam, Or stir the surface of the sea ...
If gray shapes drift beneath the foam We shall not see.”

"Eleanor"

"But wisdom passes ... still the years Will feed us wisdom .... Age will go Back to the old—
For all our tears
We shall not know.”p

The hundred year old man who climbed out the window and disappeared- Jonas jonasson

Finished this book in Taiwan in feb and meant to write a review but procrastinated till now. I really love this book coz there's this wry sense of humor in it and really quite a refreshing read. It reminds me a lot of Forrest Gump-the way it mixes the wildest, unbelievable fiction with real-life events. Allan is the 100 year old man who decided to run away from the nursing home on his birthday for a little adventure. He met a gangster who was rude to him when he was on the run and decided to make off with the dude's suitcase. Lo and behold in it held millions of dough and rather unfortunately,he and another newly made friend of his locked the poor guy in a freezer and forgot about it. The guy died and Allan and his friend had to cover up the murder and run away from the police.... This started a slew of crazy adventures and in between we get a glimpse into Allan's notorious past - dining with Truman, solving the atomic bomb issue, fighting the Spanish war, etc. all very far-fetched but incredibly funny.

We are water- Wally lamb

Got really excited when I saw his book in the library even though I was quite disappointed with his last novel - the hour I first believed. We are water is slightly better than Hour. I think there's this theme running throughout all his novels- broken people, dysfunctional families, etc. his best works are still she's come undone and I know this much is true, which I read more than 10 years ago. We are water talks about the Oh family- Orion, Annie, Andrew, Arienne, and marissa. Andrew and Arienne were twins, Orion a psychologist, Annie an artist, and marissa a struggling actress. I would think Annie was the lead in this novel. Her fractured past (childhood abuse by a cousin) moulded her into a temperamental artist who would take out her anger at the slightest provocation from Andrew,her only son. Guess abusive relationships sow the seeds for later relationships sometimes. Anyway after more than 20 years of marriage, Annie decided that she was gay and married another woman.

Every character in this family was vastly different yet they stayed bound tightly together in love. Guess that's the beauty of family- accepting of each other's flaw coz hey, you don't really have any other choice do you? Can't say I love this book but I still like lamb as a writer and guess will always keep my eyes peeled for his new work.

Terrarium therapy

Made 3 terrariums at one go today. There's something therapeutic in making these things...just hoping the transplants will grow roots and not die on me. Never had a green thumb....cept for the very first terrarium I made, which is now vastly overgrown.

Beginning of a storm

I love the beginning of a storm,
When gusts of wind gather the dead leaves
And swirl them around unsuspecting passersby,
When you can feel every molecule of the wind against your skin.
When the skies turn dark
And grey clouds loom so low
That you feel that little closer to the skies.

I love the beginning of a storm,
When thunder rumbles in the distance,
When you can smell the impending rain,
And hear the rustling of the trees.

I love the beginning of a storm
Before that first drop of rain falls
Before the skies break loose
And pours
And people scatter and run
Into their safe hiding places.

Didn't mean for this to be a poem but it turned out to be one anyhow. Stormy day today but it cleared too fast.

The rose

Herein lies the rose
Buried deep under the snow
Blood seeped from its thorns
The many hearts it pricked
And turning them cold.

Her words fell insipidly from her lips; they were mostly weightless. She was frivolous with a pompous ditzy air about her. Nothing she ever did was productive. She loved nothing more than a lazy afternoon under the parasol on the beach or drinking a whiskey and soda in the cool gardens of the sprawling mansion.
She was beautiful no doubt, with her pale, lanky neck, and skin like peaches and cream. Her big doe-like eyes charmed a many men, who pursued her relentlessly; many of whom wanted only a trophy wife to stroke their egos.
She wished she had the smarts about her like her older, less attractive sister. She walked into the study and ran her fingers through Eleanor's books. Books on history, astronomy, geography, philosophy; Eleanor's interests were wide and varied. She had a natural sense of curiosity about the world around her and was constantly amazed by new facts she did not know before. A pity though her face did not reflect the fire burning inside of her but her eyes were kind, much like her soul. This kindness and passion however, did not bring her as many suitors as her sister, Elizabeth, or Izzy as she preferred to be called. The two sisters envied one another for what each lacked. Izzy, a brain and passion, Eleanor, a face that could charm the steeliest of hearts.
Izzy sighed and turned towards the gentleman standing alongside her as she spoke. He was looking at her intently, charmed by those eyes of hers and that slender figure she carried so gracefully.
"Do you read?" She asked him pointedly.
"Well, well of course I do. History and politics mostly." The gentleman replied.
"Oh, how dull that must be. Don't you prefer to just go to parties and socialize? People can be just as interesting as books, can't they?"
He nodded, a little perplexed.
"Sorry, I am feeling just a little hot and tired. I suppose I would go rest a little now, if you do not mind." Izzy had silently declared the poor man a first-rate bore in her heart and decided she should not waste anymore of her precious time on him.
With that, Izzy spun around, out of the study and into her bedroom, leaving the poor gentleman feeling awkward and discarded. He looked longingly at her back, and departed.

Eleanor sat by the huge French windows in the study, in her favorite leather armchair. She was reading Plato's "The Republic". The skies outside were turning a steely grey and the trees were swaying violently with the wind. She gazed at the low dark clouds; she had always loved thunderstorms. They brought about a certain melancholy to the world and put her in a contemplative mood. The rain fell, drumming the roof with a loud and consistent staccato beat.
Eleanor was about to turn another page when out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pale face in the window. She let out a yelp. The pale face belonged to a man of 20 years of age , quite tall, with piercing green eyes and light hazel brown hair. He mouthed, "I am sorry!" to Eleanor.
The man was soaked wet. She got up quickly and went to the porch where the man was standing, shivering.
"Are you quite alright?"
"Just a little wet and cold, I suppose. I was out riding in the woods when the clouds came in and I had to find a shelter."
His horse was leashed to a tall tree, in the rain, a few feet away.
"Why don't you come in and I will get you a towel to dry off."
The man nodded his head, feeling grateful to have been met with such kindness. He had gotten just a little bit cynical these days; nobody had been quite as kind to him much.
Eleanor walked hurriedly down the stairs with a large white towel.
"Here you go. I will put the kettle on and make you a cup of tea, if you would like that?" She ended her sentence with an inflection. She was looking at the man with such pity in her eyes that George felt like a lost puppy.
"Yes I would like that if it is not too much trouble."
Just then, Izzy walked languidly down the stairs to the living hall, where George and Eleanor stood at a polite distance.
George's eyes brightened when he saw Izzy.
Oh, how stunning she is!
George thought to himself, with his eyes fixed on Izzy.
Eleanor sighed. Yet, another man fallen prey to Izzy's beauty.

For You

The past has been washed away.
Something new is here to stay.
Through the years,
I have groped,
Stumbled and fell.
Sometimes I felt You,
Most times I was alone.
But something new
Was created today.
Your light shone a little brighter,
No longer am I in the dark.

Some things are still a mystery to me
And some things You have revealed.
I saw the rainbow's end,
It was in my heart all this time.
I was blind to Your treasure,
Blinded by the dazzling lights
Of the world,
Which almost stole my soul away.

What is Truth?
Swallowed whole by this insidious world.
We dug through the ages,
Dug through the depth of the earth,
To find it.
But yes, it was in our hearts all this time.
Your Truth,
The only thing that remains unchanged,
Yet forever evolving and alive.

Baptism day....

I wish I can draw/paint better....

Riddles

We spoke in riddles
The truth written in our hearts
Unsaid.

Blessed is the one
Without a heart.
Blessed is the one
Absolved from love.
---------
What are we?
Wandering stardust
Emptied from the potter's bowl.
-------------
We swam across the Milky Way,
Danced on the moons of Jupiter,
Wished upon the billions of stars
Spinning in the dark abyss of space.
day dreamed under saturn's tree
Of a tomorrow only we know
The eclipsed moon
Hid her secrets.
------------

Random words, couldn't find a way to finish them. The inkwell has run dry.....

The jester

A jester on the king's court.
The show is on.
The jester performs his final act.
And the laughters rise.
The smile plastered on his face
Hides his true despair.
As the crowd roars in laughter,
His heart continues to bleed.
Thundering applause in the king's court,
Then the curtains fall.
The jester's true self reveals.
He makes his final bow
In the shadows of the empty stage,
And he stumbles and falls
Into the recesses of his cage.
Fettered is he,
Like an animal in chains.
A fool he is played,
By the sullied king.

Was transferring this from paper (on my work notebook!) to here and then while typing, the last 4 verses decided to pop into my head. Was reading Wally Lamb's we are water and it said something like there is this madness in the creative process, where the artist has an insane urge to draw- that this idea/ picture just has to be put out there. That's actually very true. Sometimes it feels as if I don't write down the verses in my head I will go mad (ok being melodramatic but the feeling is like you have an incomplete to-do list that is at the back of your head).

Once in a lifetime love- Alan Jackson

Some people have it and some people don't
Some people never will
And sometimes it's hard to know when you've got it
Sometimes it's perfectly clear

Well, I know it's out there, I've seen it happen
I know the way it should feel
'Cause there's no mistakin' that good kind of achin'
Of a once in a lifetime love

Once in a lifetime love
A love like we've all dreamed of
It may go disguised right before your eyes
A once in a lifetime love

So if you think you've got it
If you feel it inside you, don't let it slip away
You may not ever find what you never
Thought you'd have anyway

And if you've always had it and just realized it
You know how lucky you are
To wake up beside what some never find
A once in a lifetime love

Once in a lifetime love
A love like we've all dreamed of
It may go disguised right before your eyes
A once in a lifetime love

It may go disguised right before you eyes
A once in a lifetime love