triggered memory~

Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell and suffers like the divine Miranda with those who for reasons unknown but time will tell are plunged in torment plunged in fire whose fire flames if that continues and who can doubt it will fire the firmament that is to say blast heaven to hell so blue still and calm so calm with a calm which even though intermittent is better than nothing but not so fast and considering what is more that as a result of the labours left unfinished crowned by the Acacacacademy of Anthropopopometry of Essy-in-Possy of Testew and Cunard it is established beyond all doubt all other doubt than that which clings to the labours of men that as a result of the labours unfinished of Testew and Cunard it is established as hereinafter but not so fast for reasons unknown that as a result of the public works of Puncher and Wattmann it is established beyond all doubt that in view of the labours of Fartov and Belcher left unfinished for reasons unknown of Testew and Cunard left unfinished it is established what many deny that man in Possy of Testew and Cunard that man in Essy that man in short that man in brief in spite of the strides of alimentation and defecation is seen to waste and pine waste and pine and concurrently simultaneously what is more for reasons unknown in spite of the strides of physical culture the practice of sports such as tennis football running cycling swimming flying floating riding gliding conating camogie skating tennis of all kinds dying flying sports of all sorts autumn summer winter winter tennis of all kinds hockey of all sorts penicilline and succedanea in a word I resume and concurrently simultaneously for reasons unknown to shrink and dwindle in spite of the tennis I resume flying gliding golf over nine and eighteen holes tennis of all sorts in a word for reasons unknown in Feckham Peckham Fulham Clapham namely concurrently simultaneously what is more for reasons unknown but time will tell to shrink and dwindle I resume Fulham Clapham in a word the dead loss per head since the death of Bishop Berkeley being to the tune of one inch four ounce per head approximately by and large more or less to the nearest decimal good measure round figures stark naked in the stockinged feet in Connemara in a word for reasons unknown no matter what matter the facts are there and considering what is more much more grave that in the light of the labours lost of Steinweg and Peterman it appears what is more much more grave that in the light the light the light of the labours lost of Steinweg and Peterman that in the plains in the mountains by the seas by the rivers running water running fire the air is the same and than the earth namely the air and then the earth in the great cold the great dark the air and the earth abode of stones in the great cold alas alas in the year of their Lord six hundred and something the air the earth the sea the earth abode of stones in the great deeps the great cold on sea on land and in the air I resume for reasons unknown in spite of the tennis the facts are there but time will tell I resume alas alas on on in short in fine on on abode of stones who can doubt it I resume but not so fast I resume the skull to shrink and waste and concurrently simultaneously what is more for reasons unknown in spite of the tennis on on the beard the flames the tears the stones so blue so calm alas alas on on the skull the skull the skull the skull in Connemara in spite of the tennis the labours abandoned left unfinished graver still abode of stones in a word I resume alas alas abandoned unfinished the skull the skull in Connemara in spite of the tennis the skull alas the stones Cunard (mêlée, final vociferations) tennis... the stones... so calm... Cunard... unfinished...

Beautiful isn't it? Something triggered my memory of this unbelievable monologue from one of the plays I studied in English last year. As I head towards my exams I do sometimes feel as though I am 'Waiting for Godot'. The best surprise was when I discovered the Ian Mckellen and Patrick Stewart will be playing the parts of Estragon and Vladimir respectively in the upcoming theatre production of Waiting for Godot in British theatres. Oh wow~ that would be such an amazing play to see~ Ahh.. the power of envy. 

Panda-monium!

I think Wednesday is going to be my official blogging day. Just as much as Mainland Cheeseday is Mainland 'Tuesday'. Yes, random moment there but I have been brainwashed by that advertisement on TV enough times to let me quote it word by word. Though... it is a very good advertisement I have to say. Together with the Cadbury 'raising eyebrow' - one which I find ridiculously hilarious every time I have the chance to view it - it has the ability to really put a smile on my face (even on Wednesdays I might add!) 

So another laborious day comes to end. It started off brilliantly with our weekly Wednesday Castro sessions where I decided for once to take the Toblerone instead of the White Hot Chocolate. Interestingly enough, some of my coffee mates didn't believe I would do such an 'obscene' thing and refused to believe that I had indeed decided to try something new. It was not only until I successfully spilled some of my drink on to the South Lawn grass that I was proven correct. This just goes to show the skepticism that belitters the minds of young ones nowadays. Tsk tsk... eighteen year olds! Although I might add that my conversation skills seem just as immature what with statements like "One of my friends asked me to swap my rice for saffron!! *scoffs* In his dreams!". Those people in the know will understand what this means, whether it is to their good fortune or not, I'll let you decide.

I reckon that today of all days, I had an interesting time attempting to garner willpower NOT to go back home and sleep. It was very difficult to coerce myself into staying on campus but I did, although I did find my eyelids closing every now and then. If only they had LaZy chairs in the library. Gosh - now that will be a close approximation to heaven on earth. It is interesting though how much one hears about other peoples' lives as they chatter away in the "silent study" zone. Trivial as it may seem, the topics were of enough interest to keep me awake even though I was silently cursing the lack of sleep for the rest of the day. 

With that said, I'm off to bed now to attempt to regain some of that lost sleep! Maybe I just might be able to wake up on time tomorrow! Hah! Who am I kidding?

yaw~n

If you could enter my brain at this moment in time you would be stepping into the middle of rich goo, muddled in the overwhelming confusion of words, events and memories and probably if I'm not mistaken, drowning in it. And it won't be any kind of silent affair but one where you are choking uncontrollably on the gloop that is riding down your mucus escalator (haha - check that! I used the word mucus escalator!!)

Swirling about in that mess, sinking slowly into that wet quicksand is an experience I'm sure anyone would find to be 'a once in a lifetime' experience. But the irony of course is that what is happening within my head is actually super imposable in the sense that this is how I'm currently functioning through life. Almost haphazardly, my memory comes and goes as it wishes, chaining me to its limitations and offering me no solitude throughout the day. Telling myself to remember something each time feels like I'm always taking a gamble. (and between you and me, I'm a *pretty* bad gambler!) Its come to the point where I'm feeling like a goldfish who's thinking of investing into a future of post-its!! Detrimental behaviour I gather....

Gosh... memory. That's the ticket! If only I had photographic memory or at least some kind of functioning one! Imagine a situation where you could simply read something or look at it and all that information would be at the tip of your fingers~ That would be incredible in an all too unrealistic way, but one can dream. In my case, I'm thinking that I've been pushing the DREAM button too much, too hard. 

Ok. Enough with all this philosophical, depressing fooling about with words and thinking. Way too existentialist for a night! So on the positive side, I was sitting at Castro's today with my weekly Wednesday Castro buddies, sipping my fabulously, 'oh-so lovely' LARGE white chocolate when I got a text from my tutor for MPO telling me that she found my assignment! *sigh of relief* Actually make that *sighs of relief* But to be honest, I was really, really apprehensive of getting it back. So, I was to collect it from 'Room 262' at Old Arts by 11 o'clock and I trudged down there thinking it would be easy to locate. I didn't realise of course that the way the plan floor worked was like a maze; pretty discomforting after standing around in the hallway for a few minutes trying to act as though the words 'FOB' weren't pasted on your forehead. Underlining fact is that we found my tutor and I got my assignment back. One word to sum it up? *Awesome* So that was my icing on top of my day. It's brilliant how one spark can push your esteem up even when you are struggling to understand how some resistance in springs pushes it up against the movement or force exerted by the water it is submerged in. Yeah, don't ask me. I don't get it. Brilliant... Physics next semester - I'm obviously looking forward to it. Yeah, see that? - dead-on sarcasm.  --R-i-g-h-t---O-n--

brain-dead..

I woke up this morning telling myself that today of all days would be a fruitful one. I will work hard, do what I set myself to do, you know yadi-yadi-yah. It doesn't even take a monkey to guess how the day instead unravelled out. So yeah add in a couple dramas, a lot of chatting on MSN and in the middle of that watching some Master Chef. So yes, another really 'fruitful' day comes to end. 

The worse thing about it is that I have this overwhelming feeling of guilt that I know can only be gotten rid off through making sure I actually do something besides laze around with my brain power placed at its minimum level. I need the motivation though! There must be something out there that can plug in some power voltage in me to send in that extra buzz I really need. It's a pity that the only form I have found so far comes in a can labelled 'Red Bull' and no, I am not that desperate (yet). 

To be honest though, what actually motivates people? I mean, yes there is this whole topic of it in management and business where you study all those theories like Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, or MacGregor's Theory of X and Y or even Hertzberg's Hygiene Theory but in real life, beyond that of the working world, what motivates us as people, or in my case... as students? I know that in the long term we should reap rewards and benefits after the hard work placed in. But what is in it for the short term? That I would love to know. Or to emphasise that, I NEED to know. All I see at the moment is this large hill that I have to climb and I'm no where near the top; still standing at the foot of it wondering what lies at its peak. 

Well another day has ended and I can't buy back its time or make sure that the clock's hands are twirled back. All that's left is to look forward to another day and wonder what promises I'll make to myself this time!

Dance~

Now this poem is one of my favourites. I still remember when I wrote it in the light of dusk whilst I was suppose to be studying for some subject; from my foggy memory, I believe it was Maths. But that aside, it was a spur in the moment thing as I had just watched a dance movie the night before. All I could remember were these powerful images of strength and empowerment yet at the same time, a delicacy to the way the whole matter was approached. It seemed almost incongruent to see such beautiful and graceful movements yet somehow so raw that it touches people to their core. 

Such deepness is truly reflected in dancing I believe and the emotions that accompanies it are to such an array that they seem almost incomprehensible. So in tribute to one of life's best things: Dance.

Dance:

The soft sounds of jazz caress,
Gliding troubles away with a kiss of delight,
I start to tap my foot,
My head nods to the irresistible beat.

A hand on my shoulder as I look up,
The smouldering haze for a moment,
Clear away to present an even darker shadow,
Dance with me.

Hand engulfed in hand, he leads,
Me onto the dance floor amongst the couples,
Already swinging to the beats and rhythm,
Their figures a blur within the depths of music.

A side step, a slide, and a step to the right,
I spin around as trails of dust whirl high,
The strands of my hair follow my every move,
Dancing its own vivacious rhythm.

The colours mix together as I enter a trance,
My body sways to the lulling sounds,
As my mind separates from all else and experiences something like I have never had,
Swamped with energy and emotion,
I fling myself across the floor.

The beats suddenly stop and it's as if I am left in mid air,
My eyelids slowly open,
To a thundering applause.

Memories~

I was scrolling through some of my friend's blogs the other day when I realised that hidden somewhere in the world of cybernet, was a bunch of poems that I had written earlier (way earlier) during high school around 2005. I figured I would scourage through my memory to find where I had compiled my small attempts at creativity. Luckily, it didn't take too long! I was pretty sure at first that I had a blog somewhere before this one but alas, it seems that either I was mistaken or that the blog had been obliterated from lack of use. I guess both of these options are equally plausible what with my inconsistent memory and the fact that after the layers of dust on that blog, anyone would have wanted to place it in the trash too!

So yes, here we have it: *drum roll*? No. I do not believe these poems are good enough for that! Enjoy though. First up, 'Memories'. A fitting title yes?

Memories:

As the wind blows by,
I feel the memories flying away,
Time grasps them while I stubbornly hold on,
Remembering the good times.

It hurts,
As I flick through the pictures in my mind,
The priceless images bring tears,
As I remember.

Knowing it will come back helps,
But only a little,
Now time plays its cruel joke,
And slows down.

I abide my time,
Strolling back and forth,
I keep wishing my memories will turn into reality,
But they just drip away like sand.