The Pencil

It's a déjà vu feeling, really. I was in class yesterday and the picture of my friend loading a graphite lead into his mechanical pencil reminded me of the day my dad bought me my first mechanical pencil.

It was back in 1999 on a dark winter evening. I was in 3rd grade then. My parents had just come back home with a bunch of groceries and stuff. They kept them aside and my dad turned towards at me and said,"son, look what I got you" and he took out a small packet and showed it to me. "This is the new engineers' pencil, made in Germany."  The excitement on my smile priceless. 

It had a red body with 3 black stripes which were carved out near the griping area and had a black butt. It was very new in those days and I was just a kid. My sister and I might have gotten into a little argument over who gets to keep it. We took turns using it before we got a second one. I think we were possessed by it, at least I was, and I used it as often as possible. I took it to school and showed it to my friends and they all gazed at it  in amazement.

I miss those simple days. They were good.

Life Or Death

With time moving at such a fast pace it is hard to keep track of days. I've been away and back over again.

I was going through my journal earlier today and I realized most of my entries are complaints about the shortness of life. And it seems a little weird how life is full of struggle everyday.

I've decided to live my life a little more optimistically and appreciate the little things. But lately I have also been thinking about how death is far better than life, but that's a different story altogether. When you really want something in life, you get it and that's no good. For now I'm gonna say my prayers and go to sleep.

Goodnight Everyone.

Brave New World

Life and Love was starting to bloom again only yesterday. It is gone now; mingling with my past, with my old memories.

"Hey", my friend knocked me out of my daily dose of daydreams. I had gone too far this time because when I came back to my senses I realized I was in the middle of something important, which of course did not make much difference to me whatsoever, our mathematics lecture.

I told myself then and there that life would have been much better if this was all just a dream and we wake up to a new world where everything is green and beautiful, the way it's suppose to be.

Yes, that would be a really nice thing. Life in a different place and time. Hopefully better than this one.

"Sir, what's the second best thing?"

I read the following humor in a Special edition of  The Readers Digest. I just wanted to share with you all.

While in Marine Corps boot camp, we were taught to keep our heads if taken prisoner by the enemy. After all, methods used to extract information, we learned, might not be the ones we were expecting. "Imagine that the door to your cell opens and in walks a beautiful young woman in a revealing outfit," said our instructor. "The best thing to do is not to touch her."

From the back of the room came the question, "Sir, what's the second best thing?"

Hollow Reality

My sister called me up last night and told me that Dryden wrote a political satire at age 18 and asked me, 'How old are you?'

I'm 19 years 2 months and 6 days old and although I have written more than a few poems I'm yet to write a political satire. There are a lot of good ideas in my mind right now but I'm still learning to express my thoughts and imagination. I am not a prodigy as they were. I am more of an introvert.

But poetry, I cannot help but write it. I don't care what people think of me or the poems I write. I am what I am, a poetry lover and that's all I am, that's all there is of me.

How do you decide a thing as beautiful as a flower has nothing deadly underneath it?
'Reality can be deceiving. Reality is hollow.' my roommate told me once. I think he's right after all.