Friday, November 19, 2010


Just a slight intermission between updates. Just so I can have a chance to blab out stupid insecurities, nonsensical ideas, and probably some disturbing facts. This won’t be anything else but rants and complaints. Okay so here goes.

I believe I might be close to a panic attack or a break down. Not the metaphorical, imaginative ones everyone talks about in times of stress and they are just saying it to relieve themselves, but the real one. You know, the one where you actually have physical symptoms and need some sort of technique or clinical help to calm you down?

I feel like I am so screwed right now. About a week from now, on the 29th of November 2010, final exams will be here. I have over 4 subjects to cover with about, I think, 12-14 chapters each and tons of journals to read through. I had started studying on the 2nd week of November, fooled around a bit (quite an understatement), and oh lookie, happy me, covered only 1 topic of 1 subject. I haven’t done any other. And oh goodness, the journal that I am reading right now never seems to end! Why can’t researchers just bloody get to the point?!

Every time I take a short break from reading or to do something (like what I am doing now), I feel like there’s this sense of impending doom. I’m doomed. I have this little stress that I carry in my head throughout the whole entire day and it doesn’t go away.

The worse is that after resting a little bit, when I look at the books, I feel like I just want to quit. I want to stop studying, stop working (which I will be doing later tonight), just stop everything and lie down and do nothing. Yup, nothing. I. am. so. tired. Geez, and classes keep going on even if lectures are over. Lecturers, PLEASE GIVE US A BREAK!

I am really not looking forward to 29th November, even if it meant exams are here and it will be over soon so that I can enjoy myself, because I am not ready. I feel like I’m the most not-ready-for-exam-student among all my friends (whom seem to be doing very well with their studying so far). I want a hug, I want to procrastinate longer, and I want everything that doesn’t deal with freaking finals.

And here I thought this would be a short post. Alright, time to go.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Little Girl (Part 2)

The superhero was always less seen nowadays. At one point when he was gone, the little girl went up to the mother and asked, "When is Papa coming back?"

Her mother, slender in body, hands worn and tried from housework, stopped her chore for a moment to look at the little girl clad in just her pyjamas and bare footed on that cool day. The lady's lips curved up in amusement.

"Soon," she told the little girl. Then, she continued on squeezing wet clothes from the red pail before her and hung them up to dry. There were more things to do after this; to sweep the house, to mop the floor, to cook a meal for her three children, to make sure that the little girl has her bath (for it was strange she dislike going to bath), to boil some water as well as prepare for tomorrow's breakfast for the children to take to school. Endless.

The little girl, not knowing this, still stood in front of her mother, waiting for something interesting to happen. Her mind wandered off to where her father was. She did not know where, but she knew it was quite far. And would he bring back toys like he did last time? Would he hug her? Would he tuck her in bed? She anticipated them. "I miss him," she said, and padded off away to play with her toys.

The slender lady, known as the little girl's mother, looked up from her work one more time to absent mindedly watch her little girl pull her bright yellow toy phone around. She sighed. Her husband was getting more and more busy lately, what with five mouths to feed and wanting a good education for the children. They were so lucky. But none of them realised it yet. She was certain though, that one day soon, they will know. Hopefully, she thought to herself, that one day will come soon.

By night, the family had dinner without the superhero. There were jokes and laughter thrown around by the mother and older daughter. But the little girl sat in silence, poking at the brocolli that looked like miniature trees, wondering when her superhero will be back.

By bedtime, it was the slender lady who tucked them all in. There were no stubles to tickle her, no goodnight kisses, and no fairytales.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

The Little Girl (Part 1)

The fan whirred at constant speed. The little girl lifted up her wide brown eyes to look at a man sitting opposite her, pot-bellied with a grim expression and focused on the television set. The couch beneath her was getting warmer, the clock showed that it was almost time for bed and she was certain she could not sit still a moment longer. And so she did not for she got up from the black leather couch and went to her room as quick as her short little legs would allow her to. Having reached into her cupboard, she pulled out a thick, hard cover book that was as big as her torso and then headed back to the living room where he man was still intently watching his movie.

"Papa, tell me a story," she asked of him. The man's eyes had finally lifted itself from the screen and down to the little girl hugging the big book, palms just a little too small to fit its width. The corners of his mouth lifted and amused was he of his little girl, he carried her, sat her unto his lap and put his arms around her. He helped open the precious book that was in her hands and turned to a story that he knew she had heard before.

"One day, there was a man whose wife had died and left him a daughter. He had remarried a widow who had two daughters of her own," he read. The little girl listened intently in silence to his low yet clear voice as she read along the text in the book. True, she had heard this before. Who would not have heard of Cinderella? She love though to simply be with him. By the time the story ended she was feeling drowsy. The book closed and she was brought to her room. The little girl gave the man a hug and he kissed her goodnight right after tickling her with his prickly stubble by rubbing his chin against her cheek. She had always giggled whenever she felt that prickly yet ticklish sensation on her skin. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

The day ended just like that. She was happy it was so. Her father, the strong superhero of a man, was the man she loved very much and she felt safe and secure just knowing he was there.