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.