Submerged.

The Four Seasons

It was always a hot summer

In the days we used to play

I could say it doesn't matter

But I'd give me all away

Now an autumn has passed and another one, too,

There will be many springs now,

All without you

Our old Kansas winters won't see you again

And neither will I

Till my seasons end

What hurts selfish me is not that you've gone,

But that I am still here,

And I'm all alone.

Spring, winter, and fall run into each other

I hope where you are it is one endless summer.

Paullina Simons

Author of 'Tully', The International Bestseller

I must admit my first impression of the book was not a huge one. But somehow Tully sucked me in and now I'm already halfway through her life's story. I like the author's attention to certain details. Her distinct style of describing people's emotions is crackerjack! From the way Natalie Ann Makker endured an abusive childhood to her transformation into a tough and rebellious young lady, Paullina Simons captures a (so far, at page 255 out of 600 over pages) tragic novel set in the 1970s about love, loss, restrictions and choices that envelope three girls' lives.

At this point I have learnt from the novel that courage and strength are such important elements for human beings to survive. Even then, possessing them both consumes a lot of energy and in the end, leaves the idea of life not well lived.

Moral of the story? Be thankful I have never been abused. :P ...I'm actually not kidding though. Innocent children technically parentless (in other words having parents with no hearts) are experiencing purgatory which really does not differ from that sufferred by young victims of slavery / genocide / discrimination / labour etcetera, etcetera.

So, for those of you who can only read or listen about the distress and agony of such people, count your blessings daily. No doubt our everyday problems are extensive enough to make us want to pull our hair out, cut ourselves (Shout out to a certain someone, I hope you've stopped the gross habit), cry until the well of tears dry up, or even jump off a building (which happened to more than enough overly stressed students in Malaysia). Nevertheless you can always be grateful you were / are not subjected to aforementioned misery.

Anyway, back to the book ! Aaaand credits to my darling sister, Melissa for quenching my boredom with the few new novels you've bought.

(:

Swing Low, Sweet;

Do I care that this is the fifth post today? Nope ! * With the popping of the 'p' *

I, for precision's sake, would want you to note that the time displayed beneath every post is still set to the Malaysian clock. It is approximately half past midnight over here, don't be fooled.

http://tryalittletenderness.tumblr.com/post/1692131573

Just a little reminder to myself that Valentine's Day was also the first day of orientation. My phone was unusually silent and msn messenger did not work then. A quiet time alone with my thoughts sharing my love that were unable to reach people's ears or eyes but hopefully were able to reach their hearts. xx

Happy Belated Valentine's.

Consternation.

Listening to the late Michael Jackson's 'We Are The World' and watching the remake 'World 25 for Haiti' on YouTube tonight reduced me to tears. Not for the first time. Children waving their hands in the air... How I wanted to thrust my own into the screen - take each and every hand into mine and wash away their despair. Although countless times, I have heard the same words and melody.

How often have you heard news about the next disaster striking a part of the Earth's once-beautiful profile? Wade in a shallow pool of momentary anguish, and consequently let the emotion pass? Like how the phrase 'Africans are poverty-stricken' no longer conveys a significance; overused, but undermined.

I know you know that one can only empathize if constrained into the unfortunate's shoes. Figuratively, of course. What shoes? But can you imagine living the way they do? Either to have agonized since birth, or to be robbed of a peaceful lifestyle de repente... Can you imagine inhaling their air, walking their walk, surviving the painful ticking of seconds? Maybe, just maybe you can paint a vague picture. But if you were the one to be perpetually devastated, frustrated with your hapless fate, creating "if-this-didn't-happen-I-would-be"-s, If you were the one exposed to the world - as a subject, a victim, a pitiful soul. If you were the one such artistes gather in a hall to sing to...

No, I can't bear the thought.

This really affects me.