The more time I spend letting the voices inside my head talk to each other, the more things seem to ease over. It is quite a pleasant experience to finally talk to someone who agrees wholeheartedly with me on every single topic.
It gets very hard occasionally, to be sitting in office and watching documentaries. Some documentations of the tragedy that is humanity are best viewed in peace and alone, where only the walls are privy to the emotions that spill forth.
It is a wonder to me how people move on with their lives in the face of such brutality. Their stories are tinged with heavy shades of helplessness. And you want to cry when you take it all in. From the girl forced to marry a man in a life and culture she still doesn't quite understand to the woman left helpless because of the war-time rape camps. They have seen family being killed right in front of their eyes, paralyzed in fear and unable to help. Some turned into lab rats for what the Government fancied at the time and others held to disintegrated societal and moral values.
With the end of every story, come more questions. The sheer sadness of their lives hits you out of nowhere. I desperately want to pull them out of the screen, take them into my arms and promise them that I will make their world perfect again. I want to take their tormentors, shoot them and punish the guilty for all the wrongs inflicted in this world. But more than all of that, I want these people to once, break down and cry because I need to know I am not the only one who does.
It is hard, so very hard to live their lives.
Yet they manage, somehow.
Labels: Dog Days
Sundays are by and large the worst day to be staying home. There is nothing to do, the weather is usually dreary and the internet connection tends to slow down somewhat. The one saving grace is John Mayer telling me it is perfectly alright to get stoned and plan trips to Japan. I wonder if there is enough money in my account to do so. I doubt it. I could however sing Dancing in the Dark till it is night time and go African on my balcony.
The mater is growing slightly concerned with my mental health off late, ever since she walked into my room to find me attempting to recite To be, or not to be under my breath over and over again. Poor soul, she's bundled with a child far more dramatic in ways she does not want to handle. Now if I were the kinds who was dramatic like her, she'd be more than enthusiastic to join in.
I'm craving for some chips right about now and it doesn't help knowing that family will be dropping on my head in a few day's time who will wax eloquent about the Fish n' Chips near their lovely Yorkshire home. Why they can't wrap up a few servings and ship them to me is a mystery. I disdain family coming over. They rarely ever invite me around to their place, what with me being a sourpuss and all half the time. I can't help it. I do not have the same world view as them and I am unwilling to relent. Till somebody gets me Fish n' Chips of course. So I just pretend to be extremely interested in the family dynamics of some random family on SABtv till they figure I'm hopeless and let me be. I'd much rather be watching the African wild cats do their daily business but people find it slightly disconcerting to be dining with visuals of a zebra being torn to bits.
And they call themselves carnivores.
This books makes me think a lot. And nothing particularly useful.
The flowers were a gift. They are precious. More than the book.
I have a new phone. It lets me click photographs like these.
Marcello must be getting jealous.
Waiting For My Chips
Yes, I am back. It is very hard to live without being Purple Brains. I've missed being able to write freely like this, without being anonymous.
And yes, having bought a new phone, I might just turn this into a daily photo blog.
My friend brought me flowers.
They liven up the office.
But more about this later. I shall have tea with the blog and catch up on our lives.
Labels: Dog Days