Saying nothing...sometimes says the most,

as eccentrically expressed by the "New England mystic poet", Emily Dickinson.

Debussy's "Clair de Lune"

                                    

Her convoluted and intricate poems reminded me of my letter I recently penned for my chosen mentor, a teacher that I had to choose for the National Honors Society. But not just a teacher, one with the most inspirational and influential qualities. She taught me to love poetry, something and someone I will never forget.

I am an abuser of the silent treatment, and I think I get it from my mother. I remember once as a child, I was playing on the swings and accidentally knocked down my mom's favorite pot of jasmines in our yard. Now, she really cherished those jasmines, for she told me they reminded her of India's sweet-smelling gardens and its tropical panorama of vegetation. Not to say, she got quite angry with me for breaking the pot and crushing the jasmines, and didn't speak to me for the night. With me being the young little lady I was, I felt horrible for hurting my mom and her beloved flowers. 

Silence is powerful. It means so much by being really...nothing at all. I don't let important things go easily, especially my feelings. They are not necessarily something that can be toyed with.

In regards to my last post, I mentioned some of the things I hate. Now, Cassie mentioned that she doesn't truly understand what the word "hate" means...because one can also love certain things in the things he hates. It sounds very much like a paradox, but I believe it makes more sense than some of the most obvious things.

So instead of adding a few new "hates," I'll write a different word, for I know for a fact that I can live without these things.

I... dislike being taken granted for.
I dislike when people do not realize what they did wrong, and then feeling like a horrible person when you show them your point of view, no matter how much they hurt you in the past...

I think I am in great need of a relaxing shower. Yes, that will do the trick.
I find something to love in every dark corner and abyss. Thank you, Ms. McDonald. As my former English teacher, you created the me that I am now. These words will never be able to express every facet of this all-too-obvious gem of truth. You are my mentor.

"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else." 
"That it will never come again is what makes life sweet."
- E. Dickinson
                                                                  

Jingle Those Bells

I sit here, in all of my profound glory, eating leftover pork-fried rice from a staff party out of a steaming plastic bag (yes, plastic) and a cup of warm green tea. That, my friends, is the beauty of having a boss and staff who are Chinese.

I remember on my ride home I had so much to write about, the ideas were all just buzzing in my mind, but at the moment they all have seemed to disappear. I listened to a chorus performing today, and for some reason, I was laughing. Like pure laughter was escaping from my lips as I watched to uncomfortable teenagers sing in front of half of my school body. I was giggling for most of the time, and I like choruses. Guess I'll never know the answer to that one.

A couple of months ago I came across this quirky French band known as Dionysos. It's an incredibly talented group of musicians that get their eccentric flair through the works of Tim Burton, for their latest album La Mécanique du Cœur (The Mechanics of the Heart) is based on a book by the band's lead vocalist Mathias Malzieu. It's a very...fantastical album, not really based on reality so much as something Tim Burton-esque. It just is what it is.

There's this part of the song La Berceuse Hip Hop du Docteur Madeleine that goes "You mean without sex? I mean without passion."
But Mathias comes out as saying weezout sex. I love the French.


My holidays consist of frequent visits with family most of the time, yet this year a lot of them are visiting India, not that I am complaining. I am such a sucker for a day with just myself. Peace mends me well, and I find that life this year is just going as it was meant to go. No true or specified path, just the way it is supposed to go.

I am not sure if I believe in fate or not, or even destiny. I mean, sure, you met the woman you are currently in love with because the exact moment the two of you met in that dirty college gymnasium was right after her volleyball game and before your swim meet. It all worked out perfectly, until the moment you realized you were in love with her. Contradicting? Seems so, especially considering the fact that fate just does not exist in my eyes. You take a hold of your life, do you not? Your supposed "plan" that was mapped out by some unearthly being is never set, you decide on what you want to do. I am not contesting or refuting religion, it's as simple as saying peanut butter is made from just that: peanuts. We are our lives, no one else can control them.

Unless you have independence issues. Then that's a different story.

Seeing as my eyes as just about to lock themselves shut for the night, I'm going to bed. Oh, and what do you know? It's Christmas Eve.