Pondering

The year is drawing to a close yet again. Time flew. Hardly find the time to settle down with my own thoughts. I was reminded of something I didn't do recently. Was buying gelato some weeks back and saw an elderly man staring at the gelato on display for a long time. I wanted to ask if I could buy him one but I didn't dare to. What did I fear ? I don't even know, it's just ridiculous how wussy I can get. He walked away subsequently and I was filled with regrets. It also reminded me of how we are free to acquire all the things we want and yet, there are others in our society who have to think twice about splurging on a $5 ice cream.

What have I done this year apart from indulging in my many hobbies? Nothing. Have I grown as a person? I don't think so. Are there only merits in deeds? Yes and no. I've been reminded recently by someone that I tend to focus on the external things, the doing, but neglected my own spiritual growth.  Admittably, I have realized the same thing of myself. I am always doing but never really stop to consider the motives, the goals, and the things I should really be doing to draw closer to God. In fact this year I have slacked so much and I find myself lacking discipline in attending service, making efforts to study the word, putting the word in actions and thoughts. Sometimes I think I feel my own heart rotting and I grow ever more disappointed with myself. How do I liberate myself from the traps I have set? I need strength and courage to be rid of my slothful and fearful  self.

Dreams

Two dreams of you. I can't be sure if it's good or bad to dream like this. Over the rainbow was playing in the first and we were on a bicycle. I was happy just being there behind you. I knew then that our time was short and we rode away to a village. I remember it was in ubin but the village looked different. The day was warm, the sun was high, and there was a beautiful breeze. We fell asleep in the back of a wagon and then the phone rang and I knew I had to go. It was the alarm and I woke, feeling a sense of regret. It was a happy dream but it was broken.

A dream again the next day. One I don't remember much of. Again, I knew in the dream that our time was short-lived but there was once 

more a sense of joy in your presence. You told me of a place where the stars were aplenty and where the lake reflected them beautifully. I wanted to go to a place like that. When I woke I was angry. Why is it you again? 

Winter

Had to add a tree to cover up a snowflake accident. Guess I'd better learn how to correct a mistake properly.. 

YouTube is such a fascinating platform, you can learn perpetually anything on it. 

I think to date I've gained a few skills such as knitting, painting, and playing the uke purely from YouTube. The only things I wasn't able to master were the guitar and harmonica. Somehow it just seems impossible to learn these two instruments on my own. 

Have done my third painting so far and I'm so pleased with this newfound skill Coz I'd always thought that I just didn't have this "artistic gene", after getting Cs for art classes. But I do love to paint, being so focused on the colors and strokes and nothing else. It's almost like being in a realm of your own. Trying hard to fight the urge to paint all the time 

I have nothing left to offer

All my days have been sold

Left for dead - beck weathers

Got this book in the airport of Pokhara for usd4! Can't really beat the price of books in Nepal. 

I can't seem to decide if I like this book. It feels like a trashy tabloid at times and yet, it was relatively interesting enough to keep me reading (tho' some parts just felt like a couple whining about each other). The survival of Beck Weathers was an unexplainable miracle and I was quite captivated by that story. Both Yatsuko (a Japanese woman who was on her 7th summit) and Weathers were stranded overnight on Everest and exposed to a freak storm. Yatsuko didn't survive and it looked as if weathers wasn't going to as well, which explained the title of the book. However, Weathers suddenly awoke from his "coma" after "seeing" his family and despite suffering severe frostbite to his face and hands and being blind, he managed to make his way back to the camp. I enjoyed the part when Madan the pilot, wanting to test whether he possessed the heart of a warrior, agreed to go on the risky Med evac of weathers. It amazes me how someone would risk their own life for a total stranger. 

The exciting bits of the book were obviously the summiting of Everest and the rescue. The darker bits were when he talked about the "black dog" in his life, which drove him to his mountaineering madness. I guess subconsciously, Weathers did wish for death, thereby risking his life for that adrenaline rush and giving up his family in the midst. He himself mentioned that at one point in his life, he was seriously considering ending it all. A psychiatrist later confirmed the same and advised his wife to surrender all the guns in their home. I guess a lot of times when we are trying to escape that hollowness we feel in our lives, we busy ourselves with a million other distractions to deny that we have a problem. This is especially true I think, when we ourselves are convinced that with such a blessed life, we are not entitled to be depressed or to have that feeling of emptiness. We all have to face our demons some day although sometimes we may be too late. In the case of Weathers, it took a near-death experience for him to recognize his problems and to learn what were the truly important things in life-love. In a way he was lucky. Some people lose their lives before they could ever learn such truths. I guess the book deserves a 3/5 rating.  

Who am I?

Who am I ?

What defines us ? 

At a first meeting, we ask of each other what do we do. It's funny why we even bother asking that question. If I were to say that I am a nurse/a teacher/an astronaut, does that tell you who I am as a person ? 

Is my work an extension of who I am? If I were to lose my job, do I naturally becoming nothingness? 

Who am I? 

The one who loves storms?

The one who loves the sound of rain ?

The ones who loves old records and all the glory of their scratchy sounds? 

The one who loves the blueness and vastness of the ocean?

The one who dreams of a log cabin in the woods?

The one who loves to walk in the cold?

The one who loves the mountains?

The one who loves a library of books, a fireplace, a cosy leather armchair, a cup of coffee and something furry at her feet? 

The one who loves dreams more than reality?

The one who fears the word "no"?

The one who hates the dark but loves the stars?

The one who feels guilty for not living a god-pleasing life?

The one who lacks courage and strength to obtain the things she wants?

The one who worries too much? 

The one who loves sad love songs?

The one who loves pink candy floss?

The one who cries at movies and books?

The one who lies because she thinks others can't accept the truth?

The one who used to dream of being an astronaut?

The one who can't believe in dreams anymore?

The one who is always thinking of a new place to explore? 

The one who feels she's running out of time?

The one who always gives things and people up because the fear of losing always wins ?

The one, the one, the one.

The wandering heart

Here I am again, itching to get out of the country. It's really driving me up the wall-this never ending thirst to wander. 

Kinda wish i was a travel writer. 

This internal chaos, I wish it would go away soon. 

I wish and I wish.... 

Read derek low's blog and the train experience seemed so enticing yet, I wonder if in reality, it would be really boring being stuck for hours and days on a train. Or maybe not. 

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”

JRR Tolkien

Hundred foot journey- Richard morais

Very lovely read. Watched the movie first and I loved it; the book is equally good although a tad different from the movie.

The book is practically all about food. The Hajis ran a successful restaurant in India before it got burnt down during a mob attack, killing Hassan Haji's mother in the process. Grief-stricken, the entire family moved to London, where they continued to mourn their loss. When Hassan was discovered to have a "thing" going on with his cousin, the family yet again, was on the move. They drove through Europe till the car broke down in Lumiere, a small countryside, in France. There they settled down opposite a 2-Michelin star restaurant ran by a sharp and snobbish woman - Gertrude Mallory. Mallory displayed a sense of xenophobia towards the Hajis, especially when they decided to convert their mansion into an Indian restaurant. The garish decor and loud Hindi music did not sit well with the refined taste of the French lady. To check out her competition, Mallory decided to eat at the Hajis' restaurant and upon that first bite into Hassan's fish curry, okra, crispy liver dish, she knew instantly that Hassan was a bornt chef. Fearful that the restaurant would be a threat, Mallory began plotting to have the restaurant shut down. During one confrontation with Hassan's father (Abhas), a shove from Mallory caused Hassan to suffer burns at the stove. Mallory began to seek forgiveness from the family and begged Abhas to let Hassan be her apprentice. She succeeded after a hunger strike. For the next two decades, Hassan became a rising star in the culinary world and finally set up his own restaurant in Paris, where he went on to clinch the prestigious and rare 3-Michelin star status. 

What enticed me most about this book is the way the author described the food and wine so, I don't know, knowledgeably. I loved the part where he named the features of all the different oysters, with the best being (lurida) from Puget sound in America, much to the annoyance of Mallory who believed the best oysters were from Britanny. 

In Paris, Hassan befriended Paul Verdun, a top chef, who worked diligently to preserve the classic French cuisine, when molecular dining was all the rage. Verdun later committed suicide as he was in debt and his restaurant was flailing. Hassan fell into depression as he could see his future in Verdun's. Something then snapped in him and he decided to do away with all the fanciful and elaborate cooking style and to return to the true essence of the ingredients used in his dishes. This idea was what eventually won him his 3rd star. 

It's not a very "mind-blowing" story but I liked that it's simple, detailed and well-researched. Would give it a 4/5 rating. 

Made up my mind to hate you,

But I never could. 

Made up my mind to give up on you,

But I never did. 

The heart, it does what it wants to,

Till it aches and it breaks.

It runs head-on into that wall that you have built,

It shatters but it tries to mend.

Tis' old heart, tis' old madness,

Why does it love to play the fool?

Travel journals

Tried to journal the Nepal trip and I did but it's all rather mundane and straight to the point, as I was too tired to give it much thought. Felt extremely blue when Monday rolled around and I had to go back to work. The two environments were just so vastly different that I needed time, I guess, to adapt back to life here, which is kinda hilarious given that i'd only been gone for two weeks. 

There's again this strange feeling that I do not belong here and I began reminiscing the time spent in the villages, where there was absolutely nothing to do (no tv, no wifi, only a small lightbulb in the room). I'd slept at 8-9pm there and woke up at 6am. With all the distractions in Sg, I could never do that. 

I also wonder if I have overly romanticized the village life. There was one time where I felt a little claustrophobic in the mountains, that dreadful "trapped" feeling because you know there's no way you can get out of the mountains anytime you want. I guess I have a love-hate relationship with the mountains but here I am missing that life and wishing myself back there again. 

For the past few days, I've been thinking whether comfort is really what we are always striving to attain. Is comfort really that important? Or is life more exciting with a little discomfort? Is this why we put ourselves in difficult places, just so to feel alive. In a lot of situations, we tend to take the easy way out, even in love sometimes, we seek an easy, comfortable companionship because we hate discomfort right? 

But I'm beginning to feel that comfort isn't really all that matters. Good to have sometimes but not all the time. 

Anyway, back to Nepal. I do think it's a photographer's heaven. The sights are incredible and it's not just about the mountain range but the people, the streets, everything. Kathmandu is practically covered in dust but I thought it lent this foggy, dreamlike feel to the city. In a rather "brown" city, the blue doors of shops, the brightly-colored clothes of the people, the multi-colored prayer flags and powder street vendors sold, made them interesting subjects to photograph.

I think it's really awesome to be able to let others see things through your eyes with a photograph, and yet, there's so much more the viewer is missing out on- the smells, the sounds, the feel, the vibe, which kinda nullify the idea of an armchair traveller. 

Sometimes you just want to dream forever,

To believe in the fantasies you have created in your mind,

It is perhaps the idea of you I have loved,

The you, whom I have idealized,

The you, who is the perfect bubble,

That I want never to burst. 

Perhaps it is the fear,

That the real you and the real me,

Will never learn to love all our flaws,

That has me pushing you away,

And me running with all my might,

Back to where dreams lurk. 

Up in the Air - Walter Kirn

Didn't really like the book but finished it nonetheless, albeit skipping bits and parts of it. 

I am not even sure where the author was going with this book. The protagonist was a Ryan Bingham, gunning for his million frequent flyer miles with Great West. He had created a world he termed Airworld, spending most of his life in the air, in airports' lounges, and at Homestead- his choice of hotel. Quite a strange and unlikely character, who I guess, couldn't commit to a person, not a place. Bingham worked as a career transition counsellor and he was one of the best. A CTC basically helped companies fire/retrench their employees, to shield employers from being the bad guys and for employees to leave as if they were being offered new careers/opportunities. Bingham had a troubled sister (Julie) who ran away from her soon-to-be held wedding, an extremely responsible sister (Kara) who tried  to hold everything together, a dad who was dead, and a mom who was what, I couldn't remember. 

Bingham was hoping to get a job at a mysterious firm called MythTech and grew paranoid, thinking he was being stalked, either by Great West or MythTech. MythTech at the end of the story, turned out to be pretty much a sham, Great West too seemed to be on the brink of closing down. 

The finale: Bingham got his million miles and that was when he revealed that he might have some neurological dysfunction/ brain tumor, with frequent seizures and memory loss. The story ended just like that. 

Didn't catch the point of book...

1/5 rating 

Paradise

We have forgotten each day is a gift,

Another chance for us to live.

The morning light shines through the window,

And I thank God that I have the eyes to see,

And the hands to feel,

The beauty of His creation. 

I walk through the garden of the fallen paradise,

Smell the blossoms of the apple trees,

And I marvel at the gift that is free. 

I pray we'll never forget

Nor forsake

The path before us,

The path which may seem to have no end,

But the truth is,

That paradise is within our reach,

A hope we can almost touch.

"We were like astronauts dreaming on the moon, telescoping the stars, exploring the skies, and searching for the moments that took our breath away."

- Robert M Drake

Elie Wiesel - night trilogy

Earnestly looking for this book and finally got it from the library. To be honest, I was a tad disappointed since the book had received rave reviews. Although it was a trilogy, I read only the "night" as it was a true account of what Wiesel went through during WWII. The other two parts of the book were novels written by Wiesel and I guess I didn't have much interest in that at the moment. 

After reading several accounts of WWII, I felt Wiesel's story lacked "substance" and it just gave the feeling that it was run of the mill book. Of course I am not discounting the horrors he went through, watching his father die and being separated from his family. The one thing I liked about this book was its raw honesty when Wiesel recounted how he had felt a sense of relief when his father died as this meant that he no longer had to take care of him or share his resources with his father. 

The darkest hour before dawn 

Is the finest hour of a dream beyond.

When the first ray of light 

Touches the horizon

I know it is a dream long gone.

Like the morning mist,

You linger for a while,

And only for a while, 

I can say you were mine.

Death

What is death?

A friend 

A foe? 

Does it incite fear

Or does it bring relief?

Do you welcome it with open arms

Or do you turn around and run?

What is death?

Is it the end 

Or is it a new beginning?

When it comes,

Does it bring an end to the suffering

Or does it take away all that have been good?

What is death? 

A dark secret that we seek

Or one that we hope never to unveil? 

To it, we give our own meaning 

And its face, is as we have painted it to be.

The trouble with love is...

Finding it

Keeping it

Holding it.

The trouble with love is...

Watching it take its last breath

Letting it die

While you watch

Not daring to say goodbye.

The trouble with love is...

Not knowing what it is

Knowing what it is

And letting it slip

Through your fingers.

Two can play the game

Two can play the game, you say.

But I do not know all the rules.

You say her name once, twice, thrice

And all I can say is I lose.

Two can play the game, you say.

But it is a heart you take,

And it is a heart that you break.

all I have to say to you is goodbye. 

Two can't play the game, I say 

Someone will have to lose,

Someone will have to weep,

It is you I will forget someday.

Two can't play the game, I say.

Someone will have to walk away.

Perhaps, perhaps I will understand someday,

All the games you play,

And all the rules you make,

And all the rules I have broken. 

Sing a requiem for the living 

For they might just as well be dead.

With eyes wide open 

But they might just as well be closed. 

Where could I keep you

But in the recesses of my heart?

The time has come 

And I am all ready to fall apart. 

Will I ever forgive you?

Will you ever forgive me?

We sing of love that doesn't exist,

We talk of tomorrows that will never come. 

I shut my eyes

Close my ears 

You took away my beliefs 

Why am I still standing here?

What is mine

What is yours

Hands no longer intertwined.

Hearts that no longer speak.

Winter takes away all the memories of old.

Youth that was bought and sold,

For a dime, for a laugh,

And now there are only regrets,

For a dime, for a laugh,

Now the time has come 

For my silent tears. 

Hermit

Hermit days... Sometimes I just wish to get away from obligations, tasks, people...starting to regret committing myself to things... 

Can one truly get away from it all? 

Feeling the frustration but not knowing its source.. Maybe I just need alone time. 

Of love and other demons - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Another delayed review... Sigh getting lazy at this. 

I quite like the prose in the book and the plot was relatively enticing- priests, a mysterious girl, demons, exorcism, mysticism.... 

It did get a little creepy at some parts of the book yet there's a hint of romanticism as well, albeit a strange one.

The book opened with a foreword by the author himself, recounting a visit he made to the burial crypts of the convent of Santa Clara. Tombs were being hacked and remains were to be transferred to a common grave. He was taken aback by one of the crypts, when upon hacking, a stream of vibrant copper hair flowed out. The hair measured more than 22 meters long and belonged to a girl named Sierva Maria de Todos Los Angeles. This Sierva Maria became the title character of the book. 

Sierva was a beautiful, enchanting girl who was bitten by a dog who was later found to carry the rabies virus.

After being seen by a multitude of physicians, mystic healers, pharmacists, she was suspected to be demon-possessed. This brought the intervention of the bishop and his assistant (for lack of a better word), Father Cayetano Delaura, a learned man who loved books. Sierva Maria was brought to the convent of Santa Clara and locked up in a cell, to await her exorcism. Cayetano was tasked to do the job. However, he began to fall for the wiles of Sierva and began to desire her so much that he was ready to give up his priesthood. 

He was constantly tormented by the images of Sierva Maria, eventually he began stealing into her cell and spending time with her reading poetries and in each other's arms. 

We couldn't be quite sure if Sierva Maria was truly possessed or if it was superstitions at work. At one part of the story, her hair coiled like serpents and she spewed green spittle and displayed an insurmountable strength, leading Cayetano to despair at the fact that she truly was a demon. 

Yet he was unable to free himself from her. Cayetano was then banished to a hospital for lepers and never was he able to return to Sierva Maria. Sierva Maria waited in vain for him and eventually died of what I supposed was starvation and sadness. 

On her deathbed, Maria looked radiant and lovely copper hair sprung from her shaved head mysteriously. 

A very strange story but captivating nonetheless. 

There are days when lethargy sets in and you just want to disappear and give up. 

Into thin air - Jon Krakauer

One really shouldn't delay writing a book review because the momentum just gets lost and you tend to forget the story. I thought Krakauer was really brilliant to be able to bring to life the Everest tragedy of 1996. However, one also gets the sense that he is trying a little too hard to over-write his guilt. Krakauer was lambasted by Beck Weathers and Boukreev (?) for not helping the victims and instead stayed in his tent when the tragedy unfolded on the mountains. At several points in the story, Krakauer mentioned how he had helped with tasks such as hacking ice for water, setting up tents and ropes, etc. he also mentioned that he had offered to help Beck Weathers down to camp when he had found him waiting in the miserable cold for Rob. I guess the book was one of the avenues he used to explain his actions. He also seemingly vilified Sandy Pittman, a millionaire socialite mountaineer married to Bob Pittman, the co-founder of MTV. Pittman was on the Scott Fischer's team and was filming the ascent for NBC interactive media. Krakauer mocked the fact that Pittman had brought a ton of filming equipment, an espresso maker, dean and deluca's coffee powder, and chocolate eggs for Easter, etc, which taxed her porter/Sherpas. He added that she had arranged for delivery of fashion magazines to base camp and had her sleeping bag and backpack packed every morning by a Sherpa. I think he did a pretty good job in casting a bad light on Pittman. You can't help but feel a little disgusted at Pittman's whims and demands. In the later part of the story, when things went awry, Krakauer observed that one of the Sherpas (Lopsang?) had been short-roping Pittman to the summit, which implied that she was kinda ferried to the summit instead of getting there through her own efforts. It was because of this that Lopsang was too exhausted to help out Rob hall and the rest of the expedition members when tragedy struck. 

I admit that I really disliked this Pittman character but after reading a little bit more about her on the Internet, the dislike diminished a little, as I agree that perhaps Krakauer had over-dramatized her "Queen-like" behavior. 

It's also really funny that people were being overly-critical of those who died on the mountains, as well as those who survived. Krakauer was critical of Broukeev, who was on Fischer's team as a guide. He claimed hat Broukeev had went ahead of the expedition members when a guide should have stayed close to them and that Broukeev had guided without supplemental oxygen. Krakauer also seemed to imply that competition between Rob Hall and Scott Fischer might have clouded his judgement in pushing for the summit when it was beyond the "deadline" he had set. It seemed that Hall had really wanted Doug, who had previously failed to summit on another expedition with Hall, to make it to the summit this time round. The decision eventually caused both of their lives. 

The amazing part of the story was that of Beck Weathers. He was left to die when the rescue team decided that his chance of survival was very low and hence, not worth the risk involved in ferrying him back to camp. Weathers was left exposed in the freezing weather overnight and suffered severe frostbite in his fingers and nose. He was unconscious for 12 hours when a light just went on in his mind, and he awoke. With one eye blind, he was able to navigate safely to camp and even there, no one thought he would make it through the night but he did. He was a miracle. 

I really hated the part when Rob Hall was trapped and no one was able to rescue him because of the severe weather. Yet, it was beautiful at the same time that he was able to talk to his wife before he died and that his words were not that of a dying or fearful man. His parting words were: "I love you. Sleep well, my sweetheart. Don't worry too much."

All in all, I really liked this book and I am truly amazed at how detailed the narration was although one can't be 100% sure of its accuracy. 

  

Relationships

I've been wanting to start a spiritual journal since God knows when and yet, it's almost coming to the end of the year, and I've not done anything. The power of procrastination. Sigh. 

Things have been a little strange these days and I'm starting to believe what our mentor said about spiritual warfare. I've never been truly convinced about the spiritual realm and believed that it's mostly man's doing or evil nature that causes chaos. I guess sometimes you just have to believe that these things exist, that sometimes our flesh is weak, and we can't fight against the thoughts the evil one tries to plant in our minds to cause division. 

I've not been praying much nor have I been reflecting on the way things are now. A lot of discord has been sown in our cell group and it's weird, one by one people start dropping out like flies. It's been one incident after another. At the end of the day, I think, man's downfall is his pride. I admit that I've too much of it and always remain the one unwilling to back down from a fight. If only, I've such endurance for other things in life... anyway, I'm determined not to let things affect the group. 

In other realms, work has not been great. I'm feeling a sense of lethargy and wonder where I'm getting to. I absolutely abhor the secretariat work that I've been tasked to. Relationship wise at work hasn't been all roses as well. Difficult times. 

Gandhi

I was disappointed to say the least. It's funny how the most "spiritual" community/place in the world, is one that is full of pettiness, frustration, anger, etc. I can understand why people oftentimes give up on the faith and end up being disillusioned and disgruntled. I admit sometimes I feel like a hypocrite myself- I can't practice what I preach. It's easy to find excuses that it is not easy to follow God's way, that we are mere humans, that we are bound to sin. Are these reasons justifiable? Can we always use these reasons to not perfect our ways? I am not even sure what I am getting at. 

There have been times when I thought of leaving the church (but not the faith). There's an often misquoted line from Gandhi that says "I like your Christ but not your Christians". We are not sure if Gandhi really said that and we are not sure what his idea of Christ was. As I was sulking, this quote came to my mind. I know it isn't even right for me to think this, let alone wanting to quote it. To a small extent, however, the quote rings true. I think we expect a lot more from fellow Christians and upon seeing a small transgression from one of them, we stumble in the faith and doubt whether the faith is truly life-transforming. We tend to overlook the goodness but focus only on the bad. In the current situation, I can only see the bad coz I chose to turn away from all the goodness. It's always about our own choices/will but to make the right choices, I guess we have to defer to God.

Efferent vs aesthetic reading

http://composing.org/digitalmedia/efferent-vs-aesthetic-reading/

Louise Rosenblatt [110] explains  that readers approach the work in ways that can be viewed as aesthetic or efferent. The question is why the reader is reading and what the reader aims to get out of the reading. Is the text established primarily to help readers gain information with as little reading possible, or is the site established in order to create an aesthetic experience? 

• Efferent reading: reading to “take away” particular bits of information.  Here, the reader is not interested in the rhythms of the language or the prose style but is focused on obtaining a piece of information.  Rosenblatt states, “the reader’s attention is primarily focused on what will remain as a residue after the reading — the information to be acquired, the logical solution to a problem, the actions to be carried out.” An example would be a deep sea fishing guide to decide where to go fishing, or a textbook to learn about the economic causes of the Great Depression. 
• Aesthetic reading: reading to explore the work and oneself. Here, readers are engaged in the experience of reading, itself.  Rosenblatt states, “In aesthetic reading, the reader’s attention is centered directly on what he is living through during his relationship with that particular text.” [110, p. 25 ] An example would be reading Hemingway’s Old Man and The Sea to live through a deep sea fishing adventure, or the Grapes of Wrath to plumb the emotional depths of living through the Great Depression. One would not read the Old Man and The Sea to learn how to deep sea fish, nor the Grapes of Wrath to examine the economic factors that caused the Great Depression.

Thus, according to Rosenblatt, reading — and meaning-making? — happens only in the reader’s mind; it does not take place on the page, on the screen, or in the text, but in the act of reading. 

The book thief- Markus zusak

The book is classified as young adult fiction but I think it's suited for an older audience as well. The story is so beautifully written that it kinda takes one's breath away. 

The story was narrated by Death. Death first encountered Liesel Meminger, the title character, on a train to Molching when her six year old brother died in his sleep. Death was intrigued by Liesel enough to keep watch over her. Liesel stole her first book when a grave digger dropped a grave digger's handbook in the snow while burying her brother. She was illiterate but she kept the book, perhaps to remember the moment her brother was buried forever in the ground. On Himmel street in Molching, Liesel found herself with a new set of parents - Hans Huberman and Rosa Huberman. Hans was a kindly man and Liesel immediately bonded with him. Rosa was loud and argumentative, and perhaps slightly abusive but she too had a big heart. It was Hans Huberman who painstakingly taught Liesel how to read. For her birthday, even though the family was scrapping by, she received books as gifts (Hans had traded his beloved cigarettes for them).

On Himmel street, Liesel befriended Rudy Steiner her neighbor, after a race in the mud. The bet was a kiss from Liesel if she lost the race. They tied and became the best of friends. Of all the characters in the book, I love Rudy Steiner the most. He was fiercely loyal to Liesel and cared for her in the tenderest of ways that a boy of 13 could ever care for anyone. Rudy was there when Liesel decided to steal books from the mayor's house out of spite for firing Rosa as their laundry woman; Rudy was there to cheer her on when she was humiliated for being illiterate; Rudy was there when Viktor the bully threw Liesel's book into the river-without a second thought, Rudy had jumped straight into the freezing waters to fish her book out of the river. Rudy asked for his kiss whenever the opportunity arose but we knew deep down that he was afraid of that kiss, just as Liesel was afraid too. There were several occasions when Liesel so wanted to kiss Rudy but decided not to.

Rudy eventually grew disgruntled after his father was sent away to serve in the army. He proclaimed his hatred for the Fuhrer and he empathized with the Jews. Rudy began giving out bread to the Jews who paraded through their town and on one occasion, witnessing a crashed enemy plane and a dying pilot, he placed a teddy bear next to his shoulder to offer a little comfort to the dying. Rudy stood up for his weaker friend, Tommy Muller, who was bullied in the Hitler's Youth training school. He got himself punished for helping Tommy. Rudy was such a beautiful character but we knew about halfway through the book that he was going to die. I found myself wishing and hoping that it wouldn't happen, that somehow a miracle would happen, and Rudy would be kept alive. Unfortunately that was not how the story went. Rudy, the Hubermans and all on Himmel street perished during a surprise bombing. Liesel was the lone survivor as she was writing her story in the basement of her home.

The basement was previously used to hide a Jew, the son of a man who had saved Hans' life. Because of a promise he made to the wife of his savior, Hans risked his and his family's lived by helping Max Vanderburg. Liesel and max became close friends, with Liesel treating Max like a precious pet. Liesel was worried when Max fell ill and became unconscious for days, she was grieved when Max eventually left after a careless (but kind) act by Hans. It did feel like Liesel was in love with Max but in the end, we knew who her heart was for. 

My heart broke at the end of the book when Liesel found Rudy's body. She finally told him how much she had loved him and gave him what he had always asked for. It was all too heartbreakingly late. I was reading this part of the story on the subway and was trying really hard not to cry. I had to close the book several times and distract myself with other thoughts, when the tears threatened to fall.

Strangely, I couldn't imagine how Rudy looked like. In my mind's eye, he was scrawny, with lemon hair, scruffy looking and with tattered clothes but I just couldn't "see" his face.  

the story of the book thief was lost during the bombing of Himmel street but it was picked up by Death. The book was returned to its writer when Death came to retrieve the soul of an old woman -Liesel. 

I really like the ending of the book when death wondered "how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and it's words and stories so damning and brilliant." I agree that human beings could be so ugly when we perpetrate violence and hate on each other and yet, human beings are capable of such great love and courage at the same time - we are a real paradox.

13/7 - 20/7/2016

Into thin air- Jon Krakauer

I guess I've had my fill of mountaineering books for now. Into thin air was much better than a thousand summits, as krakauer really draws readers into the horrors of 1996's tragedy on Everest. Interest in the story was revived after the book by beck weathers (if I rem correctly) was made into a film. Beck weathers was one of the miracle survivors from the tragedy. I'll review the book more thoroughly next chance I get. Time to get cracking at a book I've hunted for so long- The Book Thief

10/7/2016 - 13/7/2016

One mountain thousand summits - Freddie wilkinson

Couldn't find into thin air so I settled for this. The book feels a little too journalistic, very factual with I feel, very little human emotions. I guess the author's objective was to present the plain facts to readers of what was essentially a chaotic tragedy. The human memory is unfortunately not what we confidently believe it to be what it is. Oftentimes memories are laced by our perceptions, beliefs, emotions, etc. these plus the fact that the witnesses were all at an elevation of >8000m and were turning hypoxic, made it hard for a "true" picture to emerge. I found it hard to follow through about who's who, especially the Sherpas who shared similar names. The "star" of the story seemed to be an Irishman named Gerard McDonnell, who was a kind, affable man well-loved by many who knew him. He was always willing to help and was empathetic towards everyone. I can imagine what a lovely person he must have been and his helpfulness was what killed him eventually on K2. 

I'm not sure if the writer was biased against the Koreans but it did seem they were painted in a very bad light. Slave-drivers, a strong sense of the master-slave relationship thereby mistreating several of the Sherpas and porters they employed, stubborn, result-oriented, etc. it did really make me want to strangle Kim Jae-Su the leader of the Korean expedition who didn't seem to feel the least bit remorseful for his decision to summit despite warnings from one of the Sherpas that it was too risky. Based on some of my observations (and thus my biases), I was inclined to believe the writer. Some mountaineers also believed that above 8000m, it is every man for himself. This certainly gives the sport a bad rep- lack of sportsmanship among mountaineers. However, in Gerard, one finds the contrary. It was mentioned in the story that during one of his hike in Alaska(Denali?), he had went out of his way to help a group of Taiwanese and South Africans who were having trouble on the mountains. 

I think it goes to show that one should always respect the conditions of the mountains and know that we are at the mercy of them. One should know when to stop, when to try when the mountains let you, and not take unnecessary risks that result in the deaths of others and oneself. Not too bad a read 3/5

Completed 7/7/2016

Two all-action adventures - bear grylls

Felt a little cheated when I thought the first story seemed familiar.. It was printed word for word in his autobiography mud sweat and tears. The second story was about his Arctic adventure, where he and 4 other crew members journeyed from Halifax, passing by Greenland and Iceland back to Scotland on a RIB-rigid inflated boat. It was absolute madness to try crossing the freezing ocean on a small open boat, with no place to hide from the elements of the weather and waters. It took the team about 16 days to complete their expedition, with two violent storms in between when they thought they were sure to die. After two years of hunting for sponsors and building up the boat, the crew finally set off into the unknown. Grylls was the leader of the crew and had to make tough decisions on whether to sail off through impending storms, call for rescue, setting up a rota, etc. the crew saw 20-foot high waves crashing down on them, making them cold and wet and at risk of hypothermia. Whilst crossing the Labrador Sea, the storm slowed down their advancement and sucked up their fuel, leaving them with the possibility of being stuck in the storm. Grylls prayed and prayed but didn't get the answer he wanted. Eventually he called the team's "PA" to call his friend at 3am to pray for the storm to cease. The prayer was answered. Again, I am in awe of his faith, that he truly believed in a God who watches over his people and saves them in times of trouble. 

After the desperate call for prayers, grylls woke up to a calm sea and they sailed incident-free to Greenland. Upon reaching Greenland, the crew was looking forward to days of rest to recover from the toll the storm had taken on them. Alas, after checking the weather forecast, grylls had to break the bad news to them. Because of another impending storm, they had to leave almost immediately, otherwise they would face being stuck for weeks. After much mulling, the entire crew decided to go with his decision to continue on their journey. 

They were unfortunately again hit head on by the storm and the crew took a worse beating than the previous trip. The boat's electrical powers were also starting to get whacked. They eventually lost all communication with base station and their tracking system. Family and those at the base station were frantic and thought they might be in serious trouble and were debating to launch rescue by the Icelandic coast guards. However, they knew if they were to call for rescue it would cost the team a large amount of money as well as rendered the expedition a failure. They set a time to initiate a rescue if they did not hear from the crew then. By some miracle, the rescue was almost about to happen at 1930hrs and the crew managed to get cell signal at the very last minute and called the base station at 1929hrs.  The rescue was immediately called off. If this wasn't a work of God, I don't know what is. After the ordeal, the crew reached Iceland safely and for the rest of the journey home, all was good. 

Fantastic read once again. I think grylls has a knack for drawing readers into his adventures. It feels almost as if you were there with him as part of the crew crossing the North Atlantic Ocean.

4.5/5

I like these passages as well as a poem that Mickey Grylls (bear's father) wrote :

I have passed on.

Remember my time with you.

Treasure all those moments together ,

Those moments of fun and laughter,

As you remember, know that I am with you.

It is not the number of years we live that counts,

It's how we live that matters.

As you live your lives, remember that I am with you.

Build on the beliefs we created together.

Hold on to that which is right. 

Discard all that is wrong.

When you are happy, know that I am with you.

When you are sad or in pain, know that I am with you. 

True love does not need a physical presence;

What is called death is no more than the removal of the physical being. 

Now that I have passed on I understand it all. 

I am hand in hand with our Lord, yet I am with you. 

The Martian- Andy weir

Absolutely fantastic book. Love the cleverness of the story although it is sometimes (actually most of the times) mind-boggling with the math, the physics, and the chemistry. I love the dry sense of humor of watney and I could see why he was a character well-loved by his team mates. 

On a mission to Mars, Watney was injured by a displaced antenna during a storm. Thinking that he was probably dead and in desperation not to lose more lives, his team mates had to abandon him. However Watney made it alive despite the breach to his suit. We saw how desperate to stay alive Watney was and how creative he was in finding various ways to solve problems that hit him over and over again- an explosion while trying to separate hydrogen in the Hab, fixing the pathfinder to establish communication with Earth, modifying the Rover to travel long distance to a MAV, etc. he was a mechanical engineer and botanist by training but he was forced to become an all-rounder maverick being the only person on Mars. It was funny when he said he was the first for everything that occurred during his stay, the first man to grow potatoes, the first man to travel xxx distance, the first man to reach a certain landmark, etc. 

I would love to re-read this book some day again; it was plain fun! 

5/5

I'm drifting in the in-between

What makes reality and

What makes a dream? 

Look who's back- timur vermes

I've been eager to read this book since it was first published. I thought the idea of Adolf Hitler being transported to our modern day was quite interesting. I was however sorely disappointed with the book and got bored with it after a while. The book opened with Hitler waking up in the middle of a field not realizing where he was. He then came across a newspaper vendor who took him in and eventually introduced him to a talent scout. Hitler became an overnight celebrity. It was funny though that the book painted him to be a sensitive and kind man, which couldn't be further from the truth. Hitler in the modern world propagated his ideas of preserving the pureness of the German Volk through a talk show. The book fell quite flat in terms of humor. It was supposed to be funny but the jokes somehow didn't get through. Also, I think one would probably need to read about the history of hitler to appreciate all the references he made to his party members, events, etc.

I couldn't appreciate the cleverness of the book but it did make me want to read Hitler's book.

2.5/5

Robin Williams

Was awaken the other night by the phone and I'm not sure why I just thought of Robin Williams when I laid my head back down to sleep. Kinda odd that I felt like I missed him but how could you miss someone you do not know? I have liked him since his Patch Adam and What Dreams May Come days; he just had this wonderful light about him. I like his quick wit, self-deprecating humor, and he had this child-like wonder face. I'm not sure when things started going downhill for him- the alcoholism, the bad movies... I remember hating One Hour Photo as it was just so un-Robin Williams. 

It's so strange that behind all that humor and seemingly good-naturedness lay such a deep sadness that he had to end his own life. Just awful to think about it... 

Addictions

I wonder if there ever is a good or a bad addiction. I think I'm addicted to travelling, I think I'm addicted to checking my phone, I think in addicted to coffee, I think I'm addicted to reading...

I'd thought I would be done travelling for this year after the Iceland/Norway trip but no! I find myself looking for the next place to go and getting enticed by a million and one things watching travel vlogs. Nepal, Patagonia, Jordan, Peru, Costa Rica, Mexico's arco del tiempo (probably never gonna happen). These are in addition to my previous to-go-list and that hope to go for a long RV trip. 

The world is just too big... If only we live to a healthy 900 years.. That may give us sufficient time to cover some ground. 

Anyway it looks like Nepal is quite set for this year and that's all I can think about the whole day for the past 2 weeks. 

I'm not sure if this preoccupation is the cause of my lapses in memory... I would have blackouts of what I'd done 10 secs ago. Getting something from the fridge and leaving it elsewhere, 10 secs later gg back to the fridge to take said item again and completely not remembering I'd just done that. I'd open the door to let the cat out moments ago, and found myself looking for the cat and thinking of opening the door to let him out.. Seriously... 

The Little Paris Bookshop- Nina George

I was actually looking forward to reading this book (Coz I like the title) and finally found it in the library. Lo and behold, I seriously disliked the book and struggled to finish it. The opening of the book wasn't too bad and I liked the idea of a bookstore on waters. Monsieur Perdu was the owner of the Literary Apothecary- a book pharmacy, who prescribed books to customers based on their emotional state, experiences, likes and dislikes. It reminded me a lot of Chocolat, which I loved and which was similarly set in France. Unfortunately, although the idea of a book pharmacy was refreshing, the prose and the plot and characters in the book just fell flat. Everything seemed so cliche, fictional, and the writing felt a little stiff. Perdu lived in misery for 2 decades after he thought that he was abandoned by his lover, Manon. He only realized his mistake when his new neighbour found Manon's farewell letter to him in an old table he had given her. Finally plucking up the courage to read the "farewell" letter, Perdu realized it wasn't a farewell letter. In the letter Manon revealed to him that she was dying from cancer and wished he could be by her side. She wanted him to go to where she and husband Luc lived in Provence but would understand if he would prefer to leave her. Manon died soon after the writing after the letter. Perdu was guilty and devastated. He realized he was the one who had abandoned his love and not vice versa. On a wimp, he decided to unanchor his barge and sail to Provence. He was soon joined by some eccentric characters and had a few adventures here and there, and after settling down in Sanary, he began his journey to recovery. The story had a happy ending, with Perdu finding love again in his new neighbour, and his two other eccentric companions on the barge finding love as well. 

The story is so corny that I could barely read it. 

1.5/5 

Ashes and dust

Calligraphic (sort-of) version 

Mankind

Reading the news even just the local ones, you feel as if the world is just spiraling downwards. People no longer value lives and are willing to kill others for selfish gains or if they feel injustice at the way they had been treated. 

People no longer feel compassion and empathy towards those with less. It's fine if you are not compassionate but it's not so fine when you take advantage of others' misfortunes and weakness, and trample them.

In the past I never understood how God could abhor his own creation so much to kill everyone in the flood. But I now understand the reason why. History repeats itself and mankind has no saving grace. 

Ashes and dust

The strong takes the weak

And the greed of the rich 

Swallows all that is in its path

Till there is nothing left to feed,

The hungry and the poor.

You know do you not,

All that lies beneath your feet,

All the cities of neon lights 

And gold dust

One day they will be razed to ashes

And all would be but a dusty dream.

Would you weep, would you regret,

All those you had trampled 

To reach that peak of hollowness.

Would you rejoice when the only sound that breaks the silence 

Is your own naked voice.

Would you rejoice when you reap the fruits of your selfish gains

And find them to be only dust

In the palms of your blood-stained hands.

Adieu, to who you were,

And who you are,

Not.

You have left me,

Yes you have left me for,

Dead.

You asked me to forget,

But all I ever did was,

Remember.

Those words, yes those words,

Ever mine, ever thine, ever ours.

Lost and tossed to the 

Wind. 

Everything and all that I know,

Ripped,

Shredded.

The darkness, the silence,

Yes, I remember.

Everything else,

The goodness, the light,

Forgotten, forgotten.

You,

You will be history,

A closed chapter,

Tomorrow. 

But then I find myself,

Wishing,

Hoping,

That tomorrow never comes. 

Mud blood and sweat - Bear Grylls

It says somewhere on the cover that the book is suitable for both adrenaline junkies and armchair adventurers. This is so true. It was fun reading through Grylls' autobiography which was a combination of white-knuckled adventures/accidents, love, faith, and endurance and I had to finish it in 2 nights. The autobiography began with his great grandfather Walter Smiles, who was pretty much a go-getter like him, who was in the British Air Force and Royal Navy during the First World War. He was highly decorated and earned the highest gallantry award from the Russians when he was seconded to the Russian army to fight the Turks. He was knighted in the 30s. I guess in a way that kind of determination and grit lies in the family's blood and Grylls' father although a seemingly more muted person, showed a streak of the adventurous spirit as well. Grylls and he would go on their own little trips for mountain climbing and sailing, and Grylls eventually learnt how to sail on his own at 11. He planted the idea of summitting Everest in Grylls' head; it was also his dream I guess but he didn't make it and died when Grylls was 26 and had summitted Everest 3 years ago. 

Throughout the book, you get the sense that grylls is a man who can't sit still, and who needs constant action. Throughout his childhood it'd all been what's fun and challenging. The next challenge he took on which always appeared in an intro of him was the British SAS. He failed the selection the first time round and went back for a second round of grueling tests. Such perseverance is very much admired. After a few years in the army, while skydiving, his parachute failed to launch and he broke his back. He was confined to bed for some time and that dream of Everest came to haunt him even more. by the time he recovered, he knew he would only be a liability to the army and whatever he was trained for, would never be put to any use because of his injury. He decided to quit the army and pursued his dream of climbing Everest. This worried his family, with his mother blaming his father for putting the stupid idea in his head. Through lots of effort, luck, and wit, Grylls managed to find sponsorship for his climb and began his training. While visiting a friend and training for his climb, he met his future wife, Shara. Within a fortnight, he knew this was the person he would eventually marry. However, he still had a mountain to climb and it was a dream he wouldn't give up for anything. He left his family and Shara for the 3 months' stay in the Himalayas. It was grueling to say the least, and with much luck, he survived. It fills me with a sense of wonder/ puzzlement (in a good sense of the word) me the extremes people go to , to "conquer" a mountain, oftentimes risking their lives and knowing very well, that they may die trying. Is it worth it to climb the highest mountain? I know the mountains make one feel alive and there's this strange sense of peace when you are in the midst of those majestic mountains but I'm not sure if I'd ever want to put my life in danger for that. But nonetheless, I admire mountaineers' grit and their ability to go through hell for their dream. 

I like that he mentioned about his faith in many parts of the book, how he knew it was God who had held his hand when he was afraid (although fear and Grylls didn't seem to go hand in hand) and thought he could no longer go on. How he had had many close shaves with death and escaped its clutches. How he had copied and brought along bible verses on his climb, how he mumbled verses on his long road marches. Verses from Isaiah came up a few times and coincidentally this is the book we are studying during bible study. 

The book continued with how that one Everest climb began to change his life, with him giving motivational talks around the world and eventually catching the attention of a channel 4's executive's son. This was how his tv life began. 

I also liked how he and his wife began their life together with nothing, living on a dilapidated barge on the River Thames. They eventually bought an island and led a I would imagine, quiet and simple life. 

Looking at his and his children's childhood, it seems like such a sharp contrast to the lives of children in Singapore. Their childhoods had been built around simplicity, warmth, fun and adventures (although Grylls was sent to boarding school at 8) with plenty of time spent exploring the outdoors, with less focus on academic success. Most weekends in Singapore  we see parents waiting outside tuition centers or enrichment classes for their kids.... Our society focuses so much on academic success and measure success on how high one can climb on the social ladder, and how much one can acquire. I'm sure everyone knows the value of these things- they fade and do not last, and yet, we can't help ourselves and be embroiled in the rat race. 

All in all, it's quite an inspiring and wonderful book. 8.5/10

27/5-29/5 2016

"There is no education like adversity."  Benjamin Disraeli. 

The stranger - Albert Camus

Finished the book last week... The trouble with delayed reviews is that I'd forgotten most details, including the protagonist's name and I wonder now if it was even mentioned in the story. 

The story began with the death of protagonist's (Mersault is what I'd gathered after flipping through the pages again) mother and how unfeeling Mersault was at her funeral. In later part of the story, Mersault explained that his attention and feelings were always more centered towards his physical wellness. He couldn't grieve because he was feeling tired from all the travelling and lack of sleep, and that he had just been anxious to get back home. 

Right after his mother's funeral, Mersault hooked up with Marie, and after a string of events, found himself convicted of murder. Reader gets the sense that Mersault is a sociopath of sorts who did things simply because he felt like it with no real empathy or sympathy towards others. Yet, we do see a little bit of kindness in him when he'd consoled his neighbor, Salamon, when he lost his dog. He also helped covered up for his neighbour Raymond who had beaten up his girlfriend for cheating on him although the cover up was obviously for the wrong reason. 

While at a beach with Raymond, Marie and their friends, some Arabs (friends/relatives of Raymond's ex gf) tried to find trouble with Raymond. After some scuffle, Raymond was injured but the fight was ended. However, upon spotting one of the Arabs relaxing on the beach, Mersault felt an urge to shoot him for no rhyme and reason. 

That was how he was convicted of murder and sentenced to death. The witnesses who came forward identified him as someone incapable of having any feelings. Mersault couldn't explain his own behavior as well and that was the end of it, with Mersault being executed. 

It is a very strange story but I thought it was interesting enough. Mersault was quite a dull, seemingly simple yet interesting person. 

Probably a book deserving of 7.5/10. 

Frankenstein or the Modern Promethus- Mary Shelley

Mary Shelley wrote this when she was 19 in a sorta competition borne out of boredom with friends - Lord Byron and co. Each of them was to write a supernatural story. Shelley turned their little game into a renowned sci-fic novel, which is still widely read today.

The story was first told through Walton, who was on an exploration journey to Antartica, via letters to his sister, Margaret. When Walton rescued Victor Frankenstein from the icy seas, the tale of the creation of the monster was told through Frankenstein. 

The beginning of the book was quite interesting but it does feel a little lazy at times, eg. The brushing off of the details of how life could be breathed into inanimate objects by having Frankenstein say that one should not be privy to such knowledge. Understandably so however, as it would probably make the story a tad too complex. I do feel though that there were quite a far bit of loopholes present throughout the story, eg how it was possible for the Monster to travel from country to country without being seen, how he could acquire language and knowledge just by observing from afar a family's interactions (how he was able to see their reading materials from outside of the house seemed a little far-fetched but never mind), etc. 

I also didn't like how the monster/creation just kept whining on and on about how desolate he was; It stretched the story unnecessarily. 

The development of the story at the end seemed a little amateurish, with monster plotting to murder Frankenstein's loved ones. I couldn't quite fathom how Frankenstein didn't realize that the monster was after Elizabeth and not him, especially after the murders of his brother and best friend. 

I scratched my head a little at the part when upon learning of Frankenstein's death, the monster was sorrowful and decided to destroy himself. He had told Frankenstein how much he abhorred him and wanted to make his life miserable. 

Yet, he grieved at Frankenstein's deathbed. However after a while, I sort of realized that he had found his meaning in life in Frankenstein, his creator. The monster was desolated, all alone in the world, and in a way, Frankenstein was his only "friend"/ link to the human world. With Frankenstein alive, he had a purpose-to destroy his loved ones, when Frankenstein died, the monster had nothing else to live for either and so had chosen to self-destruct. 

I think I can only give this book 6.5/10.

Mid may 2016

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.

[…]

There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, “sketch” is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.

Mila Kundera's unbearable lightness of being 

Writing

Didn't realize I'd spent an hour just writing out verses. It gets kinda addictive once you start writing. Spencerian script is one of my favorites so far but quite impractical since the capital letters take up a lot of space with its flourishes. Round hand scripts although much more practical, just lacks that bit of spunk. I've taken to watching videos of people writing and I'm not sure why I found it quite entertaining to watch the letters form. 

Sea breeze

I like the feel of a sea breeze. 

It carries with it a different touch from that of a land breeze 

In it you feel a tinge of coolness mixed in with the warmth

The air feels a little heavy,

As if it is cocooning you and 

As if you can touch it

And carry it in the palm of your hand.

It carries with it a light whiff of the sea's saltiness,

A scent that reminds you of a faraway land

Or a summer vacation.

When the breeze leaves,

You remember its touch

From the stickiness over your limbs

And your face.

I love that breeze

And how it makes me feel. 

There are days when the heart feels wicked,

And too weary to care.

In one's countenance,

One sees only despair.

All these weight on one's shoulder 

Sometimes it is just too much to bear.

I tried to see with unbroken eyes 

But was caught in a snare.

Asleep, awaken,

I found myself in the lion's lair.

He numbered my days

And counted the strands of my hair.

The days have ended

And I was laid bare.

My anguish, my tears, and sins

No longer forbear.

There is a truth he said 

That we all share. 

We are bind forever,

If we only dare,

To and in his love. 

The adventures of huckleberry Finn-mark twain

Took a little break from reading. Was deciding between Jonathan Franz's book and this, and finally chose this as it is such a well-known book and I've not gotten down to reading it. Upon reading it, I realized I might have enjoyed this a little more if I had read it in my teenage years. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is a sequel to adventures of Tom Sawyer and in this book, we got a whiff that in the prequel, tom and huckleberry had acquired 6000 dollars. 

The beginning of the book was interesting but it got a little boring in the middle and then it started to get funny and interesting again at the end. Finn was a 12/13 year old boy who hated school and smoked pipes, and because of his no-good father, decided to run away by staging his own murder. During his run-away he met another run-away -a slave (Jim) of Ms Watson who had treated him kindly but whom he bore a little sense of resentment towards. So it was that Finn and Jim struck an unlikely friendship and with Finn determined to set Jim free from slavery. They got separated on one occasion when they went overboard after a steamboat came too close to their raft. Finn stayed with a wealthy and kind family who were enbroiled in a feud with another family. The family members were mostly killed but Jim and Finn were then reunited. Finn almost gave Jim up as he felt guilty for helping a slave escape but a sentence from Jim saying that Finn was his best friend in the world, prevented him from doing so. They continued on their journey along the Mississippi River to a state (I forgot where) where Jim could be free. They then met two frauds who pretended to be a duke and a king. Although Finn realized they were not who they claimed to be, he continued to act as their servant. The frauds were finally exposed when they posed as brothers of a man who had left behind a fortune. The part I loved most was when Finn came to Aunt Sally's (Tom Sawyer's aunt) home and posed as Tom. Alas, Tom came and after being briefed by Finn about what had transpired, tom posed as his own brother, Sid. There, they tried to free Jim who had been held captive by Aunt Sally's family, in the most ridiculous way. Tom Sawyer refused the easy way to get Jim out of captive and made an elaborate plan(from books he read) such as digging through the ground with knives, planting snakes, rats, and spiders in Jim's cell, hiding rope ladder in a pie and have it sent to Jim, etc. Jim lamented that it was hard being a prisoner because of these things that Sawyer insisted that he did, as this was what prison break was all about. I thought this part was really funny and tom's imaginative and adventure-seeking character really shone through in this episode. During the escape, Sawyer was shot in the leg by a gun and instead of feeling miserable, he was exuberated that he had acquired a gunshot wound. However, his condition deteriorated and Finn had to call upon a doctor (Sawyer again came up with an elaborate plan to bring the doctor). Jim was recaptured when he helped the doctor attend to Sawyer. Jim was finally released when Aunty Polly appeared and revealed that Ms Watson had left in her will that Jim shall be a free slave upon her death. his escape was thus redundant but had offered Tom Sawyer a wild adventure: not so much for Finn as he had just went along with whatever tom wanted. 

I'm not totally in love with the book and think it suits a younger audience. It was an entertaining read nonetheless.

2/5 - 9/5/2016

Bright star- John Keats

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-- 
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night 
And watching, with eternal lids apart, 
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, 
The moving waters at their priestlike task 
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, 
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask 
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors-- 
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, 
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, 
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, 
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, 
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, 
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.

Why we can't remember what we read

http://bookriot.com/2016/05/04/read-cant-remember/

Exact sentiments...

It's funny how little I remember of a book even when I have just turned the last page. This is also one of the reasons why I decided to do a book review, to try to recall what I can... But most of the time, I end up writing more about how I feel about the book rather than giving a recount as it is a much easier task to do. 

Jungle of regrets

Sometimes you just want to leave the world behind,

Of all the things that trip you,

And ensnare you.

Say goodbye to the jungle of regrets,

To a place where worries hang on trees,

And the wild flowers bend underneath your feet.

There are things you wish you can forget,

But the blades of memories,

They cut deep into your heart. 

My obsessions these days :

http://youtu.be/EhQzh3G9Otw

Learning how to write all over again with a dip pen. It gets frustrating at times when the script just doesn't come out right no matter how hard you try. Sometimes the pen gets stuck, sometimes the ink gets wonky, sometimes you just don't know where the strokes should start and end. 

http://youtu.be/HSxmXhtXsT0

I've been obsessed with the idea of RV-ing for a couple of months now & feel a tinge of envy whenever I watch this couple's vlogs. They are either RV-ing or sailing all over the US. The idea of carrying your home wherever you go is kinda neat yet, I am not sure if it is something anyone wants to do for long-term. But still, I think it would be fun and it has to go onto my bucket list. 

They dream parallel dreams and it is only in this parallel universe that they meet. Sometimes a stray wanders in their dreams- a butterfly, a cat, a dog, and once, a mountain lion. 

12 years a slave- Solomon northup

First watched the movie before deciding to read the book, which i'd bought some time ago. Most of the time I would say the book is better than the movie but this time, I would say they were comparable. Solomon Northup was a free man in New York in the 1800s and had owned a farm and was also an occasional violinist. During a season when there was little work, he was lured by two sly characters to Washington with the promise of work, where slavery had not been abolished yet. He was kidnapped by the two men and sold as a slave to Louisianna, where he toiled as one for 12 long years. I couldn't believe how such outrageous acts could have been committed and how this singular event could change one man's life in the most unbelievable way. For 12 years, Solomon northup toiled in cotton fields, sugar cane plantation, etc with little food, daily whipping, and at one time, almost hung to death. Despite his sufferings, it seemed to the reader that he felt a sense of empathy and understanding toward his white enslavers. He said that he didn't blame them for not being able to see the injustice of slavery, for the belief that slavery was the norm had been inculcated in them for generations. Even in the most kind-hearted of men, they were blinded to the "wrong-ness" of slavery. We see in Solomon's story how easy it is for us to take for granted what is "right" without questioning simply because it was something that had been done for generations and is deemed as a way of life by society. Bass, the man responsible for Solomon's release, spoke out against slavery and was deemed an eccentric. He said that God created all men equal, therefore what right has one man over the other, to treat him as an inferior?

It was a very simple argument and yet, no one wanted to believe in it and brushed it off as hogwash. 

Bass went out of his way to help Solomon and I think Solomon was truly blessed to have many others who were concerned enough for his welfare to do something. Henry Northup, his father's employer's son, eventually managed to save him out of slavery. It was a wonderful "ending" or is it? In the preface we read that Solomon began giving lectures that spoke against slavery and shared stories of his enslavement. It was also mentioned however, that a few years later, nothing could be found on this man, that he was not recorded in the censure. We could only hope no harm was done to him although it does seem likely that he could have been killed by those who were for slavery. 

With weary eyes I look at you 

You know, I am tired to the bones.

Running after you for so long,

To you, I never meant a dime,

And you will never give me

The time of day,

When all I've ever asked of you,

Was a song. 

You depart with a friendly smile,

But you have left a storm behind.

I watch the dark clouds gather

And hear the sound of my own heart

Breaking like the claps of thunder.

I am cold to the bones,

Shivering and quivering under the bitterness of the rain.

Perhaps one day I will not remember your face,

Perhaps one day I would find myself again,

The one who was lost amidst the flurry of your words,

The one who had believed in you.

My heart was once pure and true,

Only now I've come to understand,

That I was played for a fool. 

The Bard

http://forreadingaddicts.co.uk/authors/10-of-the-best-shakespeare-insults/10690

http://forreadingaddicts.co.uk/authors/10-of-shakespeares-most-romantic-quotes/10781

Wild- Cheryl Strayed

I remembered watching half of the movie and got bored. It's been happening a lot to me these days; the same thing happened when i watched unbroken before reading the book. Given that I'd found the movie boring, I'm not sure why I eventually bought the book. The book as always is much better than the movie. Two passages made me cry and the rest of the chapters just left me awe-struck. The first passage that made me cry was when Cheryl knowing that her mother was going to die anytime (after being diagnosed with lung cancer a month earlier) soon left the hospital to bring her brother Lief to see her. When they finally returned, the curtains around her mother's bed were drawn. She drew the curtains and saw that ice packs were placed over her mother's eyes as she had donated her cornea. They had arrived too late. 

The next passage was when they had to put down Cheryl's mom's horse as she was getting on in age and suffering. Having no money, Cheryl couldn't afford to have a vet euthanize the horse so they chose to shoot the horse. She thought it would be a clean shot, that the horse would die immediately but it wasn't so. After being shot thrice, Lady the horse struggled and died a slow torturous death. Cheryl was mad with grief. I would too. 

I was awestruck by her courage and determination to complete the trail she had planned on doing, even though she had no hiking experience and had come to the trail unprepared. Most hikers on the Pacific Crest Trail had spent months and almost a year to prepare themselves for the trip. She didn't. One also gets the sense that she'd been very lucky that nothing bad had happened to her during the entire 3-month hike. It was a dangerous thing to do, to go on a solo hike on unfamiliar terrains, especially the Mojave desert. 

Feeling inspired by the book, I went on to the PCT webpage and read that there was a long list of hikers who had completed the entire trail, running from Mexico to Canada and that a typical trip would last for 6 months and cost between 4-8000 usd. I can't imagine living 6 months in the wilderness. I then searched for more palatable trails and made a mental note that if I ever returned to the US, I would do the Oregon or California section. 

I kinda understood when Cheryl said that even though it had not been necessary to sleep in a tent, being in an enclosed area gave one a sense of comfort and safety. It's funny when you consider this. One of the reasons to be in the wilderness, is to feel that great expanse, to be in all that space and to get away from the crowded, concrete jungle, and yet, being in a tiny space, even if it's just a thin sheet of material between us and the wilderness, gives us a sense of security. I really am curious as to how it feels like to be completely isolated from the world and hiking alone. Will one go crazy without seeing another human being for a long time? Or will find some kind of inner peace? For Cheryl, the solitude and the wild healed her broken-ness and I whole heartedly believe too that nature has the power to break you and heal you. 

The book is definitely worth the while to read although I would rate it a little below Unbroken. 8-16 April 2016

Perhaps just a glimpse will do,

Perhaps then, I will tell you the truth.

All the things that you need to know

All the secrets that have never been told.

The years have made me older 

But they have not made me bolder.

My heart, it is still troubled,

Sometimes I think, it has turned colder.

I'd planned so much to do today

But you see, the tears they cloud my eyes,

I unravel 

And couldn't remember the reason

Why I cried. 

There are so many secrets that I keep

And you, miles away,

You couldn't hear me weep,

Could you? 

The seasons will change 

But me, I remain forever fettered

To the cold, dreary darkness.

She was already drowning when she met him.

She listens to the breaths of the ocean- swoosh splat- the waves crash against her cheeks. 

The saltiness of the ocean mixes in with her tears. She is floating but in a moment, she will be sinking, into that deep silent ocean.

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes,  and readies herself for that final moment.

She knows that soon she will be enveloped in a cocoon of silence, a silence she yearns so much for; the incessant chatter in her mind has kept her awake for months. She craves that nothingness and prays that the fear of a painful death when her body is deprived of oxygen, will dissipate soon. 

I had a feeling that Kathy's Song would be on the vinyl that was bought a long time ago. Lo and behold it was there. Although the record was quite scratchy, I still thought it was pretty nice. Sound of silence is definitely a vinyl song too. 

I must have listened to Kathy's Song a hundred times in the past two days. There's just something cathartic about listening to a song over and over again till you get sick of it and then repeat the process again, a few years done the road, when you re-discover the song. 

She emptied her pockets

She didn't have two dimes

To rub together.

A gentle tear slid down her face

What does she have to give 

To the one she loves

She who has nothing

Has no right to love. 

She hung her head low

Her heart, a little aching

She has nothing to give 

Nothing to give 

So she can't have him. 

Kathy's Song- Simon and Garfunkel

I hear the drizzle of the rain

Like a memory it falls

Soft and warm continuing

Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind

Through the window of my eyes

I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets

To England where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused

My thoughts are many miles away

They lie with you when you're asleep

And kiss you when you start your day.

And as a song I was writing is left undone

I don't know why I spend my time

Writing songs I can't believe

With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt

All that I once held as true

I stand alone without beliefs

The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain

Weave their weary paths and die

I know that I am like the rain

There but for the grace of you go I.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I thought this was quite a brilliant song despite its simplicity.i especially like this verse:

And so you see I have come to doubt

All that I once held as true

I stand alone without beliefs

The only truth I know is you.

It's a subtle love song written for a Kathleen Chitty, whom Paul was besotted with in the 60s.