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| I have no idea who took this. Unknown file on our desktop. | |
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Ever since the bombing
in our city, I've developed this strange fear of things suddenly blowing up
when I'm in crowded places. This sensation of fear and anxiety could drive me
far away from the place where I am at. Also I have developed this heightened awareness
of bags put away in suspicious places. I can spot them everywhere; once in a
bookstore, and another at the hallway of a mall. A bag put in the ground
unattended is positively a ticking bomb for me that I have to get away fast.
This is crazy, to actually be so affected.
My counter spell which
most of the time i forget to memorize when under threat is: even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, i fear no evil for you are with me.
There!
I bought a book entitled
Uncle Tungsten Memories of a Chemical Boyhood because i was fascinated of the
things they tell at the back cover. It's a scientific memoir. Why I am writing
about this is not specifically because of the book but because of the
person who used it before me. I was surprisingly delighted to discover that we
have the same manner of highlighting things on books- mostly brackets and
arrows enclosing beautiful sentences; not so much as to distract the reader but
visible enough to notice the markings. I liked that he has this sense of
"other people might want to read the book" he kept it neat.
Which is my guiding principle on book markings too.
I noticed that whatever
book I'm reading has an impact on my writing. If I read beautiful books, i tend
to sound beautiful too. I had read about this phenomenon. I find it rather sad
and fascinating. Sad because I have not yet found my own voice, and fascinating
because I could actually just keep reading beautifully written books every day
to write beautifully too. The problem is I get lazy.
I am in the middle of
reading a beautiful story, an enchanting book filled with moon people. I am
also in the middle of preparing for my midterm exam next week. I am in a
beautiful mess.
The urge to do something
I know not has returned. So I keep starting projects i am not able to finish.
Not this, not that. If only it could talk and just tell me plainly what to do,
I would not be so bothered like I am now.
I cannot keep myself
from buying books. It is an addiction. I am happily addicted I'm afraid. Now,
if only id be able to read them all. Sigh.
I have fascinating
classmates. Because I don’t get to see them every day I am naturally curious
about them and them about me. As we do reporting every classes, I am fond of
observing who are nervous and who are not, which are eloquent and which are
not. I have classmates who are generous with their smile; classmates who smile
first when they see you. I always feel acknowledged when they do. I am not that
generous with my smile nor am I the first to say hi. I wish I could be, but I
have long given up beating myself about it. My shyness does not make them
uncomfortable either (don't get me wrong, i also have friends). When sometimes
i fee like it, I smile first and they always smile back, even the security
guard at our University smiles back. Such a wonder what a smile can do.
I have been learning
about the Theories of Learning. I keep meeting Grandpa Thorndike and Uncle Jean
Piaget they sound like family already.
The trees (4) in our
backyard have blossomed like they belonged to a forest. I can hear birds from
my room, and they are increasing in number.
I actually liked people
who cry easily. Who can be touched deeply by ordinary things and simple gestures?
I knew one and I always don't know what to do when she cries, but it gives you
so much joy that a simple gesture could move her so, so soft hearted and i
liked it.
