My silly self

What if the wick of the candle slithered downwards towards the fast melting wax?

Would the tiny flame extinguish itself or would it survive by reaching its wisps outwards, reacting in combustion with its atmosphere?

My brain has been so muddled up lately.

I cannot seem to pinpoint the exact reason.

Where is my time that I seem to not be able to grasp hold of?

Why are my thoughts scattered amidst a bowl of fine grains?

Perhaps I have been doing too much talking recently.

I have a headache that may be attributed to a lack of water intake.

But I choose to blame my surroundings on the awkwardness and powerlessness that I feel right now.

How silly.

Squawk

What is that plant along High Street called?

Why does the bush that it is in look as though it has been put together by humans artificially?
Why are there sharp brown sticks jutting out from an array of green luscious swaying ply?

How do the razor poky-looking sticks conceal their fluffiness so aptly?

Awkward phase.  

Why is Polly considered a generic name for parrots?
Is it just because 'parrot' and 'Polly' have the same initials?
I would be sad if I were Polly the parrot.
I would probably be highly confused if there was another Polly in the neighbourhood.

Awkward phase.

Why is the Tourette's Syndrome (TS) the way that it is?
Why do some people not get progressively better?

Should that particular bunch of muscles not somehow learn to suppress itself after years of training to return their owners a peace of mind?
Why is it so that people only quote the example of someone who curses non-stop when they talk about TS?
How would the public ever remember that people who twitch their heads or snort uncontrollably do that involuntarily too? 

I should sleep.

Goodnight.

Life Anniversaries

It's the 25th of October already.
I'm reminded yet again,
of how swiftly time flutters by
and how precious memories remain as treasures
made to withstand the flurries of current worries.

It was the first time I saw my pa cry.

His cheeks glistened with tears that flowed from his sunken, sleep-deprived eyes.
Pained from the stone cold reality, he hid.
He tried to hide from the heart-wrenching image that he would not, or rather, could not accept.

The peaceful body that lay in the living room, still and lifeless, 

was too much to bear. 

I remember kissing Thata.

The coldness of his skin,
the clammy sensation that crept into my frozen emotions,
the dawning of a comprehension that well, was stubbornly secluded outside my carefully constructed walls to prevent me from getting hurt.

Every year on this day,

I renew my oath to myself:

To treat people that I care about better while they are still around.

To say:
I love you.
Thank you for cooking for me.
I miss you.
You look pretty in that.
How are you?
You've made me proud.
You are amazing.
You are my precious person.

The subsequent part has been written after a few hours.

I think an analogy of a butterfly's life cycle would be an excellent way to depict a human's life.

As the cocoon rests,

the child grows and learns and plays.
As it breaks out of its cocoon,
the teenager prepares to leave home.
As the butterfly gets its first glimpse of the world,
the adult ventures into the working world.
As the butterfly seeks for nectar,
the middle aged person shoulders on more responsibilities.
As the butterfly prances around bushes of flowers,
the retiree ventures onto a new and relaxing journey.

As the wings of the butterfly deteriorates,

the aged person experiences arthritis and physical disabilities.

As the butterfly slowly flutters to a stand still,

the frail person leaves Earth's surface.

I hope Thata, that you're all dandy and happy, wherever you may be.

Spring Cycle

As I multi-task,

looking at my ma's and sister's excitement of new, good quality, cheap Deepavali clothes; 

I recollect today's Spring Cycle event. 

Having two hours of sleep after settling my friend's accommodation,

Being sleep deprived the day before,
I dragged myself up to take the spot of another cyclist who pulled out at the last moment.

Seeing the message on my phone go (at 5.15 am):

'There's a person near IGA who's smoking. I'm around the corner.'
I rushed out, sensing the discomfort in my friend's text. 

Sunrise was beautiful. 

The whole train compartment was filled with brightly coloured orange shirts. 

People were tired and perky at the same time. 

The two of us sprouted nonsensical phrases that I cannot seem to remember any more.

We lamented the waste of time and energy the night before in trying to figure out directions to our destination while we were walking with the huge crowd. 

North Sydney was abuzz with a quiet pool of good vibes. 

It was pretty and we started taking a ton of videos.

As we approached the starting point, we saw the 100km participants all geared and set to go.

I loved the amount of grass and the specific amount of rays in this picture.

We started out shaky on our bikes.

Hence, we decided to remain at the end of the group since we considered ourselves to be a hazard to the others.

Swerving left and right, with momentary breaks here and there, we contemplated pushing our bicycles up the slope.

We did not do so.

A random thought: My first time cycling in a decade. The seat was too high up.

I was nervous of the thought of cycling.

It went reasonably well, despite occasional heart attacks when someone passed by my side at a near distance.

The open view of the Harbour Bridge with it's massive steel construction, contrasting against the blue sky was breathtaking. I felt extremely thankful at that point of the path.

My friend and I randomly sang songs together when we were more comfortable with our vehicles.

Going past Mrs. Macquarie Chair in Royal Botanical Gardens, we looked in awe at the amazing sea line view with the Opera House, standing regally across the shimmering blue waters.

The closer we got to the city, the clearer my vision became.

We discovered new parts of the city we never knew existed. 

It was as if we were embarking on an adventure into a hidden fairy portal amidst a flower bush filled with little pine cones and minuscule toy cars and figurines.

We cycled by the Haymarket area and through familiar points too.

It felt surreal to actually be able to waddle through crazy traffic in the city on a Sunday.

One of the best parts of the cycle was definitely the positive encouragement shown by the people: the police, the volunteers, fellow participants, pedestrians. 

We reached Pyrmont first from the last.

Nevertheless, it was an achievement for the both of us.

It was a good ride. 

Heightened sensations from perked senses, good company and a beautiful weather.

It has been a wonderful day.

Albeit a slightly painful one.

DIY Window Stickers

Last week, I had an urge to own stained glass windows and hence, thought of a feasible alternative.

Window stickers or window clings!
From memory, window clings' paint cost quite an amount.
Thus, I resorted to the internet for cheaper solutions to my sudden need to own something peculiar.

Items that I bought were:
1 litre of craft (PVA) glue
A set of acrylic paint

Procedures to make DIY window stickers:
1. Lay a plastic sheet on the table.
2. Mix some glue and paint in a ziplock bag.
3. Nip the tip of the ziplock bag so that you can draw the outline of your design. (Notice that I chose black for my outlines) This step is akin to icing a cake or drawing a henna tattoo.
4. Wait for the outline to dry. This may take two hours or so.
5. Transfer coloured glue into the empty spots via a brush. Be generous.
6. After everything has been filled up, leave them overnight to dry.

Peel them off the plastic sheet and paste them on a window that gets the most sun!

Light rays will shine through the semi-translucent glue material and add a spark to your room instantly.

It took me a whole day to get these done but they were worth the painful wait. :)

Observations during a Christianity Question and Answer Session

I went yet again, for a question and answer session.

This time around, the topic was focused on pre-destined fates of everyone.
According to people, whether you're saved or not in the end does not depend on what you do.
However, you are accountable for your actions.
The discussion was left hanging in what I would call an utter contradiction with foundations being backed up by pure faith.

The Tower of Babel was destructed because humans were trying to play God.
Humans tried to tell God that they were able to reach God with their efforts.
Punishment attributing to their ignorance was bestowed upon them.

Apparently the Old Testament is similar to most of the other religions out there currently.

It speaks of how to earn God's approval to get onto his good side.

The New Testament is of a new covenant or agreement that humans would not need to please God to earn a place in heaven. If you were destined to be accepted into the heavens, then you will be able to walk freely into the realms of serenity; If not, then so be it, you will have to accept your fate.

Believers are distinguished from non- believers by their practices. 

This is so that people can identify them more easily.
An example from the Old Testament: Do not eat shellfish. Do not eat animals with weird looking hooves.

So much so that the believers would want God to come this instant to salvage the whole world and end their suffering, they are also against God coming too early since there are many non- believers out there living in ignorance. Hence, they preach as much as possible and reach out as frequently as they do to try to make them believe, to give them a chance at God, a chance of being salvaged.

I have my thoughts about the Book of Job. 

Though I might reserve it for another day.

Why do humans need to categorise themselves into groups with distinctive characteristics?

Is it because us humans, like the feeling of superiority and eliteness over others?

Why can't we just pray for every single living being the same way since everyone deserves well, fair and equal treatment? Since we ourselves as humans are flawed with sins and are not capable of giving judgements ( E.g. Job was wronged by his friends who thought that the suffering that he was undergoing meant that he must have sinned terribly)?

Why is it when people pray in communities that they say:

'Please pray for my Nana, who has been hospitalised. Oh, and she's not a believer. ' 

A person's a human, no matter what the person's religion is.

The person feels and goes through exactly the same things other homosapiens do.
Why mention religion in a sincere prayer for a sickly loved one? 

It is wrong to go against the superior being.
It is also wrong to treat someone who has shown you much love in a lesser manner.

Just my half a cent.  

When expectations overwhelm.

A parchment of Sydney's Music and Arts Festival

End of September.
At Hyde Park around 9 p.m.
Saw a few cones with animated images that moved
in accordance to selected music broadcast through
sound boxes built in into the back of the cones.
Dragged my dead tired body to look at them
even though it was slightly off my course.
The cone with the flower theme was my favourite.
Its images varied alongside some kind of tribal music.
Me. An animated flower. Darkness. Sounds. Buses.