The moon and the sun

I have once considered myself as the moon surrounded by the horde of twinkling lights. There are hundreds, thousands and millions of them around me. By far I asked myself if there would ever be a chance of collision, a chance of permutation, a chance of change, perhaps a miracle—then so, I wonder.

I tried to get a hint of the first gleaming object in front of me. It may have taken a while when we intertwined but only a second to break apart. I strained myself from the light but another one swept me off the hook. It was the fastest; the speediest thing on earth but it took us three revolutions to disentangle the string. It was probably the most puzzling knot to undo. I was an inch close to believing that pileups are not for real, that collisions are not meant to link all the elements of the universe…..then suddenly, just suddenly I saw the sun-- The biggest, the brightest, and the closest light among all the dainty glowing objects around me.

I am not sure if any entities in the universe are destined to be in a good composition. I am not sure if the sun and the moon are meant to be collided, ramped or bumped . Amidst this phenomenon, I have realized that individuals are truly individuals. Each has a different fate; an altered fortune that has to be unraveled. Collisions are not a matter of chance but rather a choice. Comets, atoms and other entities beyond the control of the universe harshly hit each other not because of a certain law but because they have the ability to do so

Within us is a power, an underlying opportunity that will serve as a bridge to the other half. Right now I am happy, more than happy to consider the sun as my helping hand-- The one whose light shines through at the day and at night.

I have lost my faith in writing

My life is nothing but a waste.

 It had only been about me, scarcely walking, crawling maybe away from our building, carrying an enormous bulked of burden behind my back and the yellow sheets , yes the yellow sheets and the magical pricey pen that is almost out of tint.  By the time I got home, I always rush in front of the computer,  try to finish everything before the dues, do advance reading for my major, advance reading for my minor and get my ass up for another 5-hour sleep and be dull the next day.

My life is unhappy.  

So I get up, do the typical routine, get into the car, get into the building, write things, solve things, analyze things, get things right, pretend that I’m happy I got it right, walk home, go home and try to treat myself again with another bowl of carbs and do the dues again.
What a life.

I still check my to-do list during my off days just so I could divide my life from the so called life, piled up dues and another piled up dues for the coming week.

What I realize today at 8:37 pm, no, 8:10, is that I had been going in and out of the swc office just to pick up a little piece of paper, decipher the message and go straight home. It was just this week when we had another snack bite moment and a helpful piece of crap that says, Winners forget that they are in the race and that they just love to run. I wondered for a bit and threw the paper right after.

It was just last week when I was able to ask myself about my now and my tomorrow. Will I be happy to see myself sitting on a seat that is soft but gloomy and high but boring?

The answer is no.

Before this was even taken, I promised myself never to miss a single moment or a day to write about the cynical girl and her morbid thoughts. Because of the chain and all, I have lost my faith in writing. Even the things I write now are the notes, the research and the plans that I don’t read.

It is sad.

Right now I have tasks to finish, one for the major,a long one, the yellow sheets that  I was talking about, a minor assignment containing graphs and such,  conceptualization for the mtv I was assigned to pass next week, baby thesis, photo to edit and a whole lot more yet I am stuck, contemplating on whether I should finish every single bit of them or just let the dates pass.

Arte ain't artsy

The dappled tree

So I dashed through the halls of my sanctuary and tried to escape its chaotic ambiance. I run outside and passed through a narrow path. I feel naked so I tried to run more and hide. In front of me was a dappled tree.  I stopped and stand underneath its sturdy branches as I watched the world move on a kaleidoscope.  It was a messy place, diverse, everything seems cluttered until  I got a knock from my behind. The blaring figure in front of me suddenly stopped as it swiftly blurred and calmed.. the world, the time and all the slip-ups ..they stopped, everything stopped, everything but you.

You are a stranger, a beautiful stranger.

You have a precious eyes, the sweetest voice and the nicest heart

The eyes that see nothing but a glittering stone, a voice that speaks about the meekest truth and a heart that bears the nicest fruits

That sweet,enticing smile made me feel anxious. I tucked my hair behind my ears and tried to fix that bulky coat covering my face. There was a follow up question that made me feel more tensed and chilly  “where are you going?”. 

Nowhere. Nowhere really.

But I gobbled everything up to answer with “nowhere. Just waiting” I know with what I said, there was still something within me that still anticipates for that another bulk of chances. It was very tiring. With all the running and hiding, I noticed that the world will do nothing but force me to run not towards but to the place where I once dwelled upon and over, my sanctuary.

The place was a dark, cold asylum with a little spec of light passing through its smallest window.  It used to be the nicest place I know. The nicest place on earth. It was a happy place filled with hopes probably dreams and chances. I didn’t know how the loudest cheers suddenly deemed down but as the lights wavered, sweet ambiance lowered.. I felt as if I have to break the strongest walls present on my cage, wreck what hinders and pull off the beautiful face of the world.

I walked myself out and tried to diminish the memories of the history.

I run I hid I stopped. The universe suddenly crumbled and made a way out for me and my sanctuary to fall apart……….(for us to later on fall together). So the world stopped as I did and right now as we humbly exchange our tamest sentiments.. I believe that there could only be two reasons why the “now” exist:

One is for you to stand and wait there with me and two is for you to tell me to stop waiting because you’re already there.

We could watch the rain pour down but we can walk the muddy roads as it rains, you can stand there with me and wait but you can hold my hand as we drift away from the dappled tree.

There are things, there could only be two things. And if we could only allow ourselves and the chances to grows, if we could only destroy the boulders that binds  our histories and if we could only get the courage to drift away from the dappled tree.. then.. everything will be as good as great

My cup of tea

Did this for about 20 minutes. I guess this is what happens to people when they're inspired. haha, Requested by the way lol:

As the flowers blossom in the midst of spring,

As my starving paunch longs for a pint of swill,

Without a flicker nor a blink,

There it goes, my cup of tea

As I start to change the fate’s desire

When the thunders growl in the heaven up-high,

The bitter-sweet steam of love and bliss

Cover’s the chills and lingers the thrill

As the flowers gently wither,

angry  thunders slowly tame,

though the time had flown its way

and the leaves  turned ash and gray

Lifeless colors, countless dust

With a single light shining above

when the world seems dead

and the clock strikes 12

there it goes, my cup of tea 

Yeehaw!

Very ARTiculate

Art is about what you see, what you touch, what you hear and what you feel. Art is a sentiment that could be  both fascinating and repulsive at the same time. Art is a mere sensation of bliss and misery, it is a thinking that justly signifies how a flesh could perceive the essence of a flesh. Science on the other hand is impassive. It is dead, it is dull but it is sensible. It is methodological and it can be impartially explained with a bucket of intelligence, for short, it is the most significant evidence for existence.

The question is how can art be the art of senses

and how can science be a science of reasoning?

Aren't anyone's' feelings dependable enough to justify the hypothesis of life? Doesn't art include the coherent thinking of humanity? How can science be a confirmation not a theory? Are everything studied, solved and equated be a righteous assertion to the right paths of life?

Well, Science can prove everything with the perception of the mind but the art which revolves around the act of discerning clearly denotes that the science of science is an art of art as well.