Monday, October 08, 2007
Emerging from the depth end of tranquility.
Who am I kidding?! Tough luck. Wrong-O, that’s not the reason why I’ve never show up lately.
You know, I’ve been reading a lot.
By a lot I mean real lot.
Few weeks ago I accidentally broke up to my freund’s ‘secret sanctuary’, knock up an untitled book with the quacky duck’s butt on the front page (little bit wacky, even the owner said so herself). Anyway, the inside was – to be frank, it’s kinda difficult to put it at a way – Let’s just say that the content wasn’t even close to the quacky’s stinky butt on the front.
(Translation)
It was a book, full of her writing.
A writing about somewhat compassion out of something; A writing about some confessions that none I’ve ever read before; An amazing true – and unmistakably – original chronicle about life of wonders.
The writing was so wild, yet so sweet, with the real touch of a rarely human vision.
Complex?
You haven’t seen it all.
---
I’ve never ever thought that she was actually the one that beat me up on the last writing contest. She has never mentioned that she’s the one who took home the trophy I’ve been dying to have.
She never told me.
And neither should have I.
I’ve never seen such a talent out of a person. She was good. Real good.
Perhaps she should write her own book. It would be spectacular. Why, have she ever think of that before?
She laughs. “Aw, you’re cute. Don’t be exaggerating. It’s not that good, besides, it’s just a hobby..”
Funny fact; something important to some people sometimes doesn’t actually mean anything to others. Some sensitive people could cope up this one with anger. Some people like me.
“Why haven’t you ever told me about this?”
“About what?”
“Your trophies, hobby, AND talent ..”
“It’s no BIGGY.. Besides, I don’t think..-“
“Yea, surely you don’t”
“Huh?!”
So that goes it.
If there’s one thing we surely have in common, then it must be the lowest boil point we both have.
Anyway, few days after that, some trophies landed miraculously on the school yard. Her name was written all over the ‘things’, which were all titled; ‘the writing contest’.
On the first time of three and a half decade that I’ve been living the life, I’m just (not) glad for (not) putting my mouth where my situation is. This condition is really – what shall I say? .. – frustrating.
I am the one that have been boasting about my dream of seeing my words in print as an official financial gain for the future. And she’s the one with the proof.
That’s how it hit me.
Do I have any right to write? I mean, I don’t have any talent..
I could even imagine people laughing at me, at my thoughts. Am I too confident?
On that week, I really refuse to make my own writing. And that’s making me feel much more miserable (exaggeration?).
I like writing,
though it’s not equal to my passion of Karate.
But, still.. Writing is the one that is most likely to bring up the fortune than the work of kicking some butts.
I feel.. Huh?
How do I actually feel?(!)
Then the thought came.
Am I really that mad? How did this start?
“She won some contests that she never told you about - the contest that accidentally you were in too. She won – of course – because of her outstanding talent.”
“Then why am I this furious? Shouldn’t I be happy?”
“Because you two are best friends since Pre School, and she has never even mentioned about this stuff to you. I thought you say that you feel dejected and distrusted as a friend,” he was busy with his drawings when we talked.
I looked at him.
“Why am I even talking to you?”
He glanced at me at some way before he continued, “Because you are frustrated. And I can’t help of answering my sister’s ‘loud’ thought. Mom might as well think that you’re having something wrong on your cloudy brain.”
I sneered at my brother, but didn’t move from his room.
I like to be in his room. Sometimes, I like it much better than staying in my own room. Unlike mine, his room is totally - um – colorful. There are so many paintings, drawings, and, not to mention, trophies. He’s such a natural at this stuff, just like dad.
“What are you drawing, buffalos?”
“None of your business. And, anyway, try to look something not only from your perception. Maybe then you can really appreciate people. And please, get out of my room.” With that, I slammed his door and walked up to my own.
You know, sometimes talking to your bros or sis could actually give you something to think.
As the older one, I’m supposed to be teaching him, but sometimes he ended up teaching me.
And that’s how I picked up my phone, dialed my freund’s number, and said, “look, I’m really sorry (bla) (bla) (bla)..”
She said she understands.
She even apologized for making me feel bad (I feel worse now).
She kept her mouth shut all of this time because she really thinks that there’s nothing to be proud of.
She was silent because she’s not comparing herself to ordinary girls around, but she’s comparing herself to her own mother (which – I just realized – is a famous writer).
“When I get to be like her, maybe then, I could actually really boast around. But till then, I just have to stay focus and get my head on my dream.”
“Talent isn’t just enough. Without practice, work and will, talent is just as equal as nothing,” she waved her hand and walked away on the opposite direction.
The sun was shining so bright.
But I stood still on my place. I might just be standing there for some more time, before I heard a familiar voice behind my back, “ready to go, sis?”
Sitting on his motorbike, looking uncomfortable to be around high school kids, was my brother.
I smirked. “I thought you’d never come. And oh - anyway, on the way home, please just drop me off at the Internet Café. I kinda miss my blog..”
Who am I kidding?! Tough luck. Wrong-O, that’s not the reason why I’ve never show up lately.
You know, I’ve been reading a lot.
By a lot I mean real lot.
Few weeks ago I accidentally broke up to my freund’s ‘secret sanctuary’, knock up an untitled book with the quacky duck’s butt on the front page (little bit wacky, even the owner said so herself). Anyway, the inside was – to be frank, it’s kinda difficult to put it at a way – Let’s just say that the content wasn’t even close to the quacky’s stinky butt on the front.
(Translation)
It was a book, full of her writing.
A writing about somewhat compassion out of something; A writing about some confessions that none I’ve ever read before; An amazing true – and unmistakably – original chronicle about life of wonders.
The writing was so wild, yet so sweet, with the real touch of a rarely human vision.
Complex?
You haven’t seen it all.
---
I’ve never ever thought that she was actually the one that beat me up on the last writing contest. She has never mentioned that she’s the one who took home the trophy I’ve been dying to have.
She never told me.
And neither should have I.
I’ve never seen such a talent out of a person. She was good. Real good.
Perhaps she should write her own book. It would be spectacular. Why, have she ever think of that before?
She laughs. “Aw, you’re cute. Don’t be exaggerating. It’s not that good, besides, it’s just a hobby..”
Funny fact; something important to some people sometimes doesn’t actually mean anything to others. Some sensitive people could cope up this one with anger. Some people like me.
“Why haven’t you ever told me about this?”
“About what?”
“Your trophies, hobby, AND talent ..”
“It’s no BIGGY.. Besides, I don’t think..-“
“Yea, surely you don’t”
“Huh?!”
So that goes it.
If there’s one thing we surely have in common, then it must be the lowest boil point we both have.
Anyway, few days after that, some trophies landed miraculously on the school yard. Her name was written all over the ‘things’, which were all titled; ‘the writing contest’.
On the first time of three and a half decade that I’ve been living the life, I’m just (not) glad for (not) putting my mouth where my situation is. This condition is really – what shall I say? .. – frustrating.
I am the one that have been boasting about my dream of seeing my words in print as an official financial gain for the future. And she’s the one with the proof.
That’s how it hit me.
Do I have any right to write? I mean, I don’t have any talent..
I could even imagine people laughing at me, at my thoughts. Am I too confident?
On that week, I really refuse to make my own writing. And that’s making me feel much more miserable (exaggeration?).
I like writing,
though it’s not equal to my passion of Karate.
But, still.. Writing is the one that is most likely to bring up the fortune than the work of kicking some butts.
I feel.. Huh?
How do I actually feel?(!)
Then the thought came.
Am I really that mad? How did this start?
“She won some contests that she never told you about - the contest that accidentally you were in too. She won – of course – because of her outstanding talent.”
“Then why am I this furious? Shouldn’t I be happy?”
“Because you two are best friends since Pre School, and she has never even mentioned about this stuff to you. I thought you say that you feel dejected and distrusted as a friend,” he was busy with his drawings when we talked.
I looked at him.
“Why am I even talking to you?”
He glanced at me at some way before he continued, “Because you are frustrated. And I can’t help of answering my sister’s ‘loud’ thought. Mom might as well think that you’re having something wrong on your cloudy brain.”
I sneered at my brother, but didn’t move from his room.
I like to be in his room. Sometimes, I like it much better than staying in my own room. Unlike mine, his room is totally - um – colorful. There are so many paintings, drawings, and, not to mention, trophies. He’s such a natural at this stuff, just like dad.
“What are you drawing, buffalos?”
“None of your business. And, anyway, try to look something not only from your perception. Maybe then you can really appreciate people. And please, get out of my room.” With that, I slammed his door and walked up to my own.
You know, sometimes talking to your bros or sis could actually give you something to think.
As the older one, I’m supposed to be teaching him, but sometimes he ended up teaching me.
And that’s how I picked up my phone, dialed my freund’s number, and said, “look, I’m really sorry (bla) (bla) (bla)..”
She said she understands.
She even apologized for making me feel bad (I feel worse now).
She kept her mouth shut all of this time because she really thinks that there’s nothing to be proud of.
She was silent because she’s not comparing herself to ordinary girls around, but she’s comparing herself to her own mother (which – I just realized – is a famous writer).
“When I get to be like her, maybe then, I could actually really boast around. But till then, I just have to stay focus and get my head on my dream.”
“Talent isn’t just enough. Without practice, work and will, talent is just as equal as nothing,” she waved her hand and walked away on the opposite direction.
The sun was shining so bright.
But I stood still on my place. I might just be standing there for some more time, before I heard a familiar voice behind my back, “ready to go, sis?”
Sitting on his motorbike, looking uncomfortable to be around high school kids, was my brother.
I smirked. “I thought you’d never come. And oh - anyway, on the way home, please just drop me off at the Internet Café. I kinda miss my blog..”
me and my BIG MOUTH ;) | 8:00 AM.
