journal entry 7: imagine yourself a child prodigy who is not understood by people around you. you long for friendship and a normal life. write a poem describing your life.
i am only me
don't stare at me
don't judge me
don't expect much from me
because i am only me
i'm suffocating
under the scrutiny of the people around me
what is so special about me?
because i am only me
people always come and go
but none leave footsteps in my heart
i long for care and concern
from a friend which is a person
i am not a thing
i am a normal human being
don't run away and deserts me
because i am only me
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
the dreaded chain
the dreaded chain
Mountains of work
Piles of responsibility
But everyone has their own limits
And mine is finally here.
Let me be in peace
Let me finally rest
My sweet escape is right in front of my eyes
This gilded cage is chaining my leg
Oh let me free!
>from me to my boss
Mountains of work
Piles of responsibility
But everyone has their own limits
And mine is finally here.
Let me be in peace
Let me finally rest
My sweet escape is right in front of my eyes
This gilded cage is chaining my leg
Oh let me free!
>from me to my boss
wish you were here!
wish you were here
Sandy golden beach
Bright hot sun
But that doesn’t bother us
As we are having fun
The vacation is almost over
We could sense the time is near
But heaven is right in front of us
How we wish you could be here
With us having fun!
from the family to me
Sandy golden beach
Bright hot sun
But that doesn’t bother us
As we are having fun
The vacation is almost over
We could sense the time is near
But heaven is right in front of us
How we wish you could be here
With us having fun!
from the family to me
one last wish...
One last wish
My dear child,
First I am sorry
For leaving you to carry this burden
Of curing solitude
It was fate that took me away
For my time has come
But please help our hero
To mend and accept the fact
With open arms
My only wish in flesh or ashes
Is for him to be happy
Not sorrowful or sad
Now that I’m gone
My wish is this
For you to help the king
To find his tune again
from grandmother to granddaughter
My dear child,
First I am sorry
For leaving you to carry this burden
Of curing solitude
It was fate that took me away
For my time has come
But please help our hero
To mend and accept the fact
With open arms
My only wish in flesh or ashes
Is for him to be happy
Not sorrowful or sad
Now that I’m gone
My wish is this
For you to help the king
To find his tune again
from grandmother to granddaughter
Thursday, September 18, 2008
tune it up!
tune it up! for grandfather...
you lost your smile,
you lost your laugh,
you lost your soul,
when she died.
my old best friend,
i miss your love,
i miss your laughter,
i miss your jokes.
but most of all,
i miss out time together,
the untold secrets,
that only you and i know.
how i wish,
with all my heart and soul,
that you could be whole again,
finding new light
for the remaining years
and being able to find your tune,
even if it means
you are dancing to it
all on your own.
remember my dear,
your family is here,
i am here,
ever ready to help you
and guide you,
to take your first step
to be whole again...
you lost your smile,
you lost your laugh,
you lost your soul,
when she died.
my old best friend,
i miss your love,
i miss your laughter,
i miss your jokes.
but most of all,
i miss out time together,
the untold secrets,
that only you and i know.
how i wish,
with all my heart and soul,
that you could be whole again,
finding new light
for the remaining years
and being able to find your tune,
even if it means
you are dancing to it
all on your own.
remember my dear,
your family is here,
i am here,
ever ready to help you
and guide you,
to take your first step
to be whole again...
mine
small, quiet, quaint,
green that promises peace and tranquility,
valuable things all over the place,
on the floor, under the bed, behind the desk,
but it is all that is precious to me,
my room, my heaven, my own.
stacks of books on one corner,
and boxes of shoes on the other,
piles of clothes on the floor,
and mountains of pillows on the bed,
it is signed "no entry",
exclusively preserved for my return,
my room, my heaven, my own.
green that promises peace and tranquility,
valuable things all over the place,
on the floor, under the bed, behind the desk,
but it is all that is precious to me,
my room, my heaven, my own.
stacks of books on one corner,
and boxes of shoes on the other,
piles of clothes on the floor,
and mountains of pillows on the bed,
it is signed "no entry",
exclusively preserved for my return,
my room, my heaven, my own.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
the fasting month...
the fasting month, ramadhan, is a month of patience.
it tests our strength in many ways.
holding ourselves together, resisting the flow of saliva,
when we browse through rows of tents,
in the ramadhan bazaar...
this is not a place for the weak heart,
nasi ambang, ayam golek, kebab, nasi kerabu, che mek molek and many more...
"masyaallah, what should i buy?".. one would say.
the people of the bazaar would dance in rejoice...
another challenge will come as aidilfitri comes closer
lot 10, jusco, suria klcc, pusat pakaian hari-hari...
will be filled with people
who are there with a sole purpose
of buying new clothes for the festive celebration...
new jeans, baju kurung, jacket, songkok and skirts
money flows like the dashing water of ganges river
and fathers lines up at the atm machine
with tears brimming in their eyes...
it tests our strength in many ways.
holding ourselves together, resisting the flow of saliva,
when we browse through rows of tents,
in the ramadhan bazaar...
this is not a place for the weak heart,
nasi ambang, ayam golek, kebab, nasi kerabu, che mek molek and many more...
"masyaallah, what should i buy?".. one would say.
the people of the bazaar would dance in rejoice...
another challenge will come as aidilfitri comes closer
lot 10, jusco, suria klcc, pusat pakaian hari-hari...
will be filled with people
who are there with a sole purpose
of buying new clothes for the festive celebration...
new jeans, baju kurung, jacket, songkok and skirts
money flows like the dashing water of ganges river
and fathers lines up at the atm machine
with tears brimming in their eyes...
my favourite fictional character
my favourite fictional character is sakuragi hanamichi in the anime and comic slam dunk. i started liking this character ever since i watched the anime series when i was still in school. his character is a short tempered high school bully. his image is enhanced with his incredible height and bright red hair. he have his group of friends who are delinquents as well. even though his character is at first rough and other characters are scared of him, but inside he is a passionate person. he has a huge crush on haruko, the sister of captain akagi, the high school basketball team captain.
he joined the basketball club by accident, that is after his natural talent was spotted when he challenged akagi to a match. since then, he joined the club, but with the sole intention to get haruko's attention. he always called himself as a tensai (genius). but in actuality, he is the dumbest character in the anime.
but, this character of his makes the anime funny and it is hilarious to watch his antics, especially his arguments with the team members. i never tire from watching this anime and never failed to laugh. but underneath the laughter, there is an important message that is being put forward. even though sakaragi is a laughable character, his determination to win a game and his passion for the game should not be left unnoticed.
activity one of writing fiction - building character
it's 2nd january and emily came home from a very tiring 7 day business trip. Jerry must be on call tonight, she thought to herself. it was not a good New Year for her as she missed celebrating Christmas with her husband and her family. she opened the door to her homey apartment, expecting her dog, Margerita to greet her at the door. but she encountered something that put tears in her eyes. in front of her, her living room was decorated with a christmas tree with lots of gifts stacked under and around it. she opened the gifts one by one. a gift from her parent, a silver locket with the inscription of her name "emily" was wrapped in a golden box. a brand new laptop from her husband, and with it a bottle of herbal medicine to ease the pain of her feet. opening the rest of the presents, she found a box from uncle tom. this year, she received a dusty old radio and fortune telling cards from her eccentric uncle, who adores her nevertheless. last year, he gave her a pair of leather jackets and an old rugby ball, the so called winning ball from the sox's win 2 years ago. she felt loved. she turned and walk to her office and put the gifts neatly in a glass cabinet. as she was placing her bag on her chair, she realised that the office is clean and organized, by her husband, with a jar of sharpened pencil on the desk, ready for her to start her work.
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