tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32726852549240627872024-03-12T21:51:49.433-07:00Secret stashI have many dreams. To soar the blue skies; to hang from jungle vines; to run across green landscapes; to live in a world devoid of things man-made. I realize them in one way. I write.Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-58966925956379583532019-08-04T11:14:00.001-07:002019-08-04T11:20:27.296-07:00Literary Somethings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I throw my fingers far into the jagged chasm that my mind has become,</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Claw and scrape the slithery walls and wait for the torrent.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The torrent of words, that familiar overwhelming gush of literary somethings,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">And nothing but emptiness gapes at me.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I hear echoes, echoes of ages gone by,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">My words, my old words, my dear friends, whisper</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">“You left us. You left us for everything the world taught you”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">We showed you mountain streams and dewdrop strung glades,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">We helped you with the beast that clawed your heart,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The fury that boiled in your veins,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">And yet you left. You left for your spreadsheets and IDEs</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Your internships, your jobs, your bills.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">You swore you’d always keep us at your side,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">But we’re not side chicks meant as a back up,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">To fill holes left by your main whore,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">When we left you, we left you ablaze, we left scars,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Blazing red burns all over your brown skin and</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Your sensitive, tender heart,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Gashes down your neck, your hands,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">From when you couldn’t handle our might.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Your tear ducts are now empty and raw,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">They reek of our absence, of the way they</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Wouldn’t stop when you’d write from your heart.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Your tears don’t fall in great waves like we did once,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">No, they don’t fall, they simply stall in your eyes,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Confused at the lack of spirit, of emotion,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Dazed at the lack of ambition, drive, direction,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Where is it, your tears ask, where are our friends,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">We can’t gush without them.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i>Being dramatic at 2 AM,</i></span></span><br />
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-26250185217287030592018-06-04T10:06:00.000-07:002018-06-04T11:35:03.361-07:00The Monthly Ledger: February - May 2018<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello everyone!<br />
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How are you? I'm great, and I hope you are too! These past two months, I read quite a few books (maybe I should've read more :P ) and I can't wait to tell you about it!<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1. <i>A Feast For Crows</i>, George RR Martin</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://awoiaf.westeros.org/images/thumb/a/a3/AFeastForCrows.jpg/200px-AFeastForCrows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for a feast for crows" border="0" height="400" src="https://awoiaf.westeros.org/images/thumb/a/a3/AFeastForCrows.jpg/200px-AFeastForCrows.jpg" width="248" /></a> A massive book. Simply massive.<br />
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It has been nearly 6 months or so since I last visited Westeros with all its blood and murder galore and I would say this book didn't entertain me as well as I wanted it to. First off, there were no parts about Jon Snow, Denaerys, Tyrion, Davos or any of the characters that truly add significantly to the story. Martin justifies this in a note at the end of the book, "I wanted to write all the story for half of the characters instead of half the story for all of the characters". I understand that the main purpose of this book is to relate the reader the atmosphere in Westeros in preparation for the Great War in the coming books, but nevertheless, the book was a little hard on the brain.<br />
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1. Characters: Martin has done an excellent characterization of the common people of Westeros. The smallfolk talk of bandits and horses, and are unaware of omnipresent Game of Thrones controlling them. I was impressed by this because it reflects that without technology to spread information about what is going on in the kingdom, people know next to nothing about who to blame for their problems. The smallfolk don't care at all for who sits on the Iron Throne. <b>However, </b>this got really tedious. After a point, I honestly didn't care what a Septon or a farmer or stableboy thought. The dialogues were long, tedious and irrelevant to the big picture.<br />
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2. Plot: Too many mini-stories on the side that detracted from the main story. The characters in the prologue were mentioned only in the epilogue and they had nearly no impact in the main story. Having seen the TV Series already, the subplots were mindbogglingly slow-paced and excruciating. While I was reading the book, I was unaware that Martin planned to write about only half the characters, so for most part of the book, I was foolishly hoping for Jon Snow, Daenerys, Tyrion or at least a sensible, clear-headed Sansa Stark.<br />
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In May, I visited a second-hand bookstore in a place like Ukkadam here in Coimbatore. Ukkadam has a collection of twenty-something second-hand bookstores, bookstores with tarpaulin doubling as roofs,bookstores where the grey pollution of the air and smell of dung from the nearby dump is replaced by the strange wistfulness of bookstores that can calm a reader like nothing else can. I was positively buzzing with energy when I came in and lost my mind when I saw all the leaning towers of novels, tipping over with the weight of all the carried. New books are great, but used books are beautiful. I love the yellowed pages, to know that before me, there were probably random people who I'd never meet, who thumbed through these pages, took time off their schedules to devote themselves to another world, exactly like I was going to do in the next few weeks with my newfound drugs. </div>
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A list of the books I bought:</div>
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<li><i>Truth and Fiction in The Da Vinci Code,</i> Bart D Ehrman</li>
<li><i>The Ministry of Utmost Happiness</i>, Arundhati Roy</li>
<li><i>The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest</i>, Steig Larsson</li>
<li><i>The Alchemist, Panlo Coelho</i> (I know, I know, I haven't read this yet)</li>
<li><i>Fall of Giants</i>, Ken Follet</li>
<li><i>The Oath of the Vayuputras, Amish</i> </li>
<li><i>Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl</i>, Anne Frank</li>
<li><i>Love in the Time of Cholera</i>, Gabriel Garcia Marquez</li>
<li><i>A Brief History of Time</i>, Stephen Hawking</li>
<li><i>The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy</i>, Douglas Adams</li>
<li>From Amazon: <i>The Selection Series</i>, Kiera Cass (because your girl can do both)</li>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><i>
2. Truth and Fiction in The Da Vinci Code,</i> Bart D Ehrman</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/515MwZWWqwL._SX322_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for truth and fiction in the da vinci code" border="0" height="400" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/515MwZWWqwL._SX322_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="258" /></a> It goes without saying that I bought this book to know if Brown's claims in The Da Vinci Code, especially because it shook the very foundation of my limited knowledge of religious history.<br />
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However, throughout the book we learn that the only artifact that could be gleaned for information from biblical times is the Bible itself. Understandably, we have to be extremely critical (critical analysis, not 'criticism') about what we learn from the Bible. This is what we learn over and over again from this book.<br />
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I don't want to spoil it, but a lot of what got me excited about The Da Vinci Code turns out to be merely theories, not solid facts.<br />
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Technically speaking, the book's writing style is really more suited to an academic, and was kind of excruciating to me.<br />
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Note: Despite the 2/5 rating, I must emphasize that this book does meet its purpose: to argue and inform to its readers the historical validity of the claims in The Da Vinci Code. However, its style didn't appeal to <i>me - </i>this may be better-rated amongst academics.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>3. <i>The Ministry of Utmost Happiness</i>, Arundhati Roy</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://images.penguinrandomhouse.com/cover/9781524733155" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for the ministry of utmost happiness" border="0" height="320" src="https://images.penguinrandomhouse.com/cover/9781524733155" width="217" /></a>Predominantly revolves around the life of Anjum, a <i>hijra</i><i> (</i>an intersex person), in Delhi and a Tilottama, a Keralite woman in Delhi that hates jewellery, settling down and any semblance of a stable life. Set in the 1970s, it describes how their lives are influenced by the Kashmiri conflict.<br />
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This book is stylistically rich, complex, politically-inclined and crudely questions the core of the Kashmiri conflict through Tilottama's critical eyes. In fact, it is full of subtle ridicule of many traditions/prejudices that make no sense - the shunning of hijras; the pointlessness of protests in the 1900s when literally <i>everything, </i>from the agricultural system to the Kashmiri conflict, was protested against. The collection of characters were very interesting too: a strong-minded hijra, an untraditional woman, a thrifty business-oriented Hindu man that calls himself Saddam Hussein, a dog, a goat, 20 people in their graves of which a few have a 2-3 page long backstory.<br />
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However, there were so many subplots and so much description that it began to get confusing and excruciating. I had to suffer through a 20-page backstory to a character to finally find out that the said character was Anjum's vegetable-seller's niece's tailor that served in Kashmir and has an alcohol problem, several mistresses, and a white polka-dotted shirt stained brown from that one time he was playing with his son and tripped and scraped his knee, the son that is great at school and can play football but hates eating brinjals. But hey, YOU NEED TO KNOW THIS TO UNDERSTAND THE CONFLICT OKAY<i>. </i><br />
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By the time you're done with the book, you realize that there is literally <i>no </i>story. It appears to be, or atleast tries to be, intellectual, although it only feels dense, slow-moving and rather purposeless.<br />
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Maybe I should push reading the The God of Small Things?<br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>A few more quickies:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">4. The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets' Nest -</span><b style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </b><img alt="Image result for star rating 4" height="38" src="https://3rv4jq2ggt6445wv30wo7z17-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/themes/clickxposure-new/images/4-star-rating-sf.jpg" width="200" /><br />
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5. The Alchemist - <img alt="Image result for star rating 4" height="38" src="https://3rv4jq2ggt6445wv30wo7z17-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/themes/clickxposure-new/images/4-star-rating-sf.jpg" width="200" /><br />
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6. The Selection Series - <img alt="Image result for star rating 4" height="38" src="https://3rv4jq2ggt6445wv30wo7z17-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/themes/clickxposure-new/images/4-star-rating-sf.jpg" width="200" /> (a necessary breather after the Ministry of Utmost Happiness. It might seem unusual that I rate a YA fantasy higher than a complex, political novel, but in terms of entertainment and how immersive it was, The Selection was much better.)<br />
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7. The Fourty Rules of Love, Elif Shafak - hands down one of the best books I've read. A little fantasical, but very hopeful and uplifting. <img alt="Image result for star rating 4" height="38" src="https://3rv4jq2ggt6445wv30wo7z17-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/themes/clickxposure-new/images/4-star-rating-sf.jpg" width="200" /><br />
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<b style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that's it from February to May!</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>See ya!</b></span></div>
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-23776397084092268402018-02-14T05:50:00.000-08:002018-05-07T09:27:01.793-07:00Hopefully Inspirational<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hey everyone!</div>
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Look at me, posting twice in the same week! Hope you guys are doing great and are assaulted by good energy only!<br />
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As mentioned in a previous post, I graduated high school. What I failed to mention, however, was that I graduated as Topper (or Valedictorian). In line with school tradition, I was invited as Chief Guest for my school's Republic Day Celebration and asked to give a speech. Since obtaining the video from the school's authorities may take a few decades, allow me to present the transcript instead!<br />
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Enjoy!<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Teachers, Parents, Guests and Students,</span> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">First of all, thank you. Thank you for this incredible honour - my younger self would have killed for this opportunity. </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">In all honesty, I struggled to write this speech. I was racked with fear and nausea, because I couldn’t decide: what is the perfect topic for this immensely important occasion? What will interest a crowd so varied in gender and age? I would like to inspire you with a fiery Steve Jobs-type speech that will drive you to write the next Nobel Prizes-winning book. But I doubt I can, so allow me to talk about something a little different.</span> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">For the past 12 years, like most of you here, I’ve battled homework by day, deadlines by night. I’ve wasted time on Instagram and studied till two am. I’ve put my blood, sweat and tears into projects and assignments. I would’ve been crushed by the pressure if it weren’t for one thing: people. While most inspirational speeches focus on success, ambition, fire, goals, motivation and numbers, the most underestimated item on that should be on that list is people.</span> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; line-height: 150%;"> Every day, as I climbed up those stairs on that block to the IB classrooms, I would see my classmates sitting in groups, hopefully surrounded by textbooks, the air energetic with talk of thin film interference, organic chemistry and, who am I kidding, the newest movies too. There is always something refreshing about this moment, because it shows how strength is in solidarity, how youthful spirit can ease pressure. As I look back at these 12 years, it is not my grades or awards that I remember, but the time my friend taught me physics or when we joked about how school was basically ‘12 Years A Slave’(it isn't!). Or when we begged the teacher to let us go early for lunch for the biriyani, and when we struggled to climb the stairs afterwards because we ate too much. No number can quantize the special relationship I share with each teacher here, the hours spent in their cabins figuring out a difficult math problem or discussing my assignment. No number can quantize how much I depended on the lab akka (<i>assistant</i>) to finish my experiments – she always had way more common sense than I did.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">As of today, it’s been nearly two months since I finished school, and 68 years since India implemented the Constitution. Both India and I haven’t stabilized ourselves yet. We stumble in the dark, but our freedom lies in the heat of youthful spirit, ambition and people. It is spirit that sustains us, inspires us, propels us, that keeps us hungry for more.<br /> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 150%;">Now I doubt if you listened to this entire speech – if you haven’t, I ask that you remember this: never settle, choose to be extraordinary, but do so with the strength of spirit and people backing you.</span></span></blockquote>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awkwardly waiting for a cue.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQNHymne4ntAYc4Yl6PFYsoWWdTcOhXJrvZupfjJEeFFhEkdb2zAYPevANxqboZq10feRFt9AYnv2QMD0Vc__M-agOuZn9qZ_qVgqsDCiXIPggEyRaIbdQPx2InmD2KGV2pCIlkVdRBo/s1600/DSC08143-01.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQNHymne4ntAYc4Yl6PFYsoWWdTcOhXJrvZupfjJEeFFhEkdb2zAYPevANxqboZq10feRFt9AYnv2QMD0Vc__M-agOuZn9qZ_qVgqsDCiXIPggEyRaIbdQPx2InmD2KGV2pCIlkVdRBo/s400/DSC08143-01.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talking: be it to huge crowd or a single guinea pig, I really get invested in it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
See ya soon! </div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-68042315721264430232018-02-12T07:52:00.000-08:002018-02-12T08:02:52.733-08:00September 1, 2016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello everyone!<br />
<br />
It's been quite a long time since an update! I'm currently at the end of the college admissions process and at the beginning of the will-they-accept-you phase of crippling anxiety. Now that high school's over, I have an alarmingly large amount of time in hands. The moment my eyes snap open in the morning, true to the routine I've had for the past two years or so, I make a mental list of what I have to do. No word can perfectly capture that momentary shock when you realize that there's no homework, assignment or task waiting to eat up your day. In a way, it feels rather lonely. (o_0) I've constantly been working on something or the other for 12 years, and even for the two years before that, so this kind of emptiness feels quite disarming and frankly, is dangerous when in the hands of an obsessive person like me. Nevertheless, I've realized that it was only after graduation that I connected more closely with many of my classmates than I had done in the past few years. I tried out new restaurants and went to my first stand-up comedy show too (FRONT ROW SEATS YEAH!)!<br />
<br />
Anyway, the point of this post was to share with you, dear readers, a particular poem that I had written for my IB English Language and Literature SL course and later even submitted to many of the universities I applied to. The text below is what I've submitted to universities, so it's an edited version of what I submitted to the IB.<br />
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I consider this work to be one of my proudest, most heartfelt accomplishments yet. It is often hard to find the right words to capture your mind without overdramatizing it. As mentioned in a <a href="https://k2nivetha.blogspot.in/2017/11/an-interesting-article-from-online.html" target="_blank">previous </a>post, I believe that only the simplest of words can accurately describe the complexity of your thoughts. They make your reader look beyond the beauty of your words into the beauty of the very concept that you are trying to express. It is precisely this that I've done here and I hope you do enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.<br />
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***</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Both science and poetry have immensely influenced my life, character and values. The former makes me look at the universe in awe, and the latter allows me to introspect and condense my thoughts. Despite science and poetry being viewed as contradicting, both have conjunctly furthered my eagerness to simply <i>learn</i>. Through my blog, I’ve written numerous poems and essays commenting on various facets of the society: parental expectations, anger, the glorification of depression, etc. However, my best work yet was a culmination of all these endeavours in my IB Written Task assignment (a 1000-word creative writing piece with a 300-word rationale), for which I mimicked a popular poem: W. H. Auden’s <i>September 1, 1939</i>. This was both exciting and challenging, as I had to critically analyze the present society through the eyes of a man who lived decades ago, imagine how he would’ve looked at today’s world, and how he would’ve chosen to convey his thoughts. I find these 893 words to be one of my proudest achievements. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Rationale</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">How has the world changed since Auden’s September 1, 1939? This is the question I have attempted to answer by writing a second version of the same poem, set in the 21st century (2016), from the perspective of Auden himself. <i>September 1, 1939 </i>was a poetic analysis of the early-1940s society, just at the brink of war and ideological shifts. Similarly, in this task, I aimed to analyze the present society, with an Audenesque poem - the analytical clarity of Auden’s style would help me achieve my aim more successfully. This poem highlights issues that would’ve irked Auden about today’s world, like morality, body shaming, pollution, terrorism, exploitation of the working class by the economically powerful, the ruination of everyday life by technology, etc. I have also written about issues that have ameliorated from 1939, like LGBT rights and women's rights. Auden would’ve included these to emphasize that there is still time for hope. The audience of the poem includes those who want a critical take on world affairs and humans, such as social critics and psychoanalysts.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">In line with Auden’s style of work, I have used various biblical references (‘Serpents’ and ‘biblical tower’), biological terms (‘tumors of blood’), imagery and numerous metaphors (‘flesh of apple and the seeds within’) and simple vocabulary. The main themes covered are universal love, war, totalitarianism and other political and social concerns. I have not adhered to a strict rhyme scheme or meter like Auden, so that readers aren’t distracted from the intended meaning of the poem. The tone is analytical and detached, but dramatic and contemplative. This poem also expresses Auden’s well-known insecurities when it comes to his poems, his frequent revisions and his belief that poems are pointless. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Note</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">: To clear any ambiguities in the meaning of my poem, a word/phrase describing the main idea of a paragraph has been added following each paragraph. Different ideas are separated by a comma. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">September 1, 2016</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It has been a long ride, 77 years to be precise,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">when I wrote a poem strange, one that I now purely despise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">However, if there is one thing these years have taught me,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It would be that the unbending human heart ceases to change,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s cruel, wicked, unbending ways. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I am no longer uncertain, no longer afraid – <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The bold quest taken in seeking a pattern<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">has reached its sharp, chilly pinnacle; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> The answer, I fear, is horrifyingly simple:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We humans have a death wish,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and a talent to destroy ourselves from within. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I sit now, not in a dive, but in the Garden of myth,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ruminating, contemplating, thinking<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Of universal love, compassion, affection;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Of treachery, violence and ignorance,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">O Eve, what have you unleashed?<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Dynamics of the soul)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">From the womb till now, corrupted is the race,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That once sang of soaring skyscrapers and rich dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Its needles of steel and plastic pollute paradise,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and it is now crumbling in the destruction left in its wake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Scholarship, no longer accurate, and the raven, no longer true.</span></div>
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<i style="text-indent: 9pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Urbanization, unreliable academicians and media)</span></i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: 9pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What rays there were, proved to be merely reflections off the moon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Messiah, they say, will arrive in all his glory to rescue,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But humans I ask you, what rescue do you imagine to receive, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When you have barred the gates with ugly fumes?<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Pollution)</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Love? Love is mercurial. Thumping and fleeting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It tears from within. Love of all forms,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Platonic and romantic, lesbian and gay,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Are attempts to either fill voids, or create them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Love today is merely sparks of lust,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What more could one expect?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For we are made of ephemeral dust,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ravaged by our selfish despairs. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Nature of love)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We are still tornados, swirling, destroying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Occurrences at the home, errors of the heart,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Allowed mere rashes on the Earth, to bloom<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Into fatal tumors of blood and destruction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Cross seas and oceans, to join a fanatic cult,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That destroys the flesh of apple and the seeds within.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Thrive in differences, thriving indifferences, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Perhaps another biblical tower is due. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Scars of childhood impact actions, terrorism)</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Stations of knowledge and jurisdiction<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">soliloquize of fortresses profitable and safe, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">promise a Garden of inviolable concrete and cement, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and accomplish these with Alt-Right, a club and mace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Can only a poet see the missing ‘but’?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The slightest shake of the Earth, can bring down lairs,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and even in the Garden of Eden, the mortal flaws of the body,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">are laid, for all to see, naked and bare. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Politicians deceive and achieve lofty goals with crude methods)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">The holy sanctum sanctorum - violated,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Evil demons trespass into the dualistic world<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Causing a diabolical manipulation of Plato’s ideal:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ideal horse, ideal speed, ideal beauty reinvented. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The public children once sang ‘Ring around the Rosie’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Oblivious to Europe’s rosy history. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But now they draw, on the cracked shell of dust,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">straight, meandering rivers of crimson,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">as the demons rebuild the ideal body. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Rigidly-defined beauty standards set by society, self-harming)</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Frozen forever in a capture of 1989, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Stands a man in the street with modest bags.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Passively aggressive, strikes a revolution,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Stares at the four green monsters before him,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As the State silently curses, “We’ll settle this soon.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Growth of revolutionary citizens, as in the popular picture from 1989 of a Chinese man rebelliously standing in front of army tanks)</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Playing its game of throne and power, assured<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We need polity and stability to survive lest we are <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">untrue citizens for what are we without belonging,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Without pride, loyalty and a proud history.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But reality will always show its nature true,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For when hunger is out hunting, you will<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Not survive. Forget history, pride and loyalty – <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We will stop the game and only rue. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Governments brainwash citizens with lofty emotions that won't matter in desperate times)</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Glassy eyes of children, the young and old ripped<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">By a fragile monster fashioned by the victim’s own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Creations have turned upon the creator,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Who tastefully designed his own hell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The morning cockerel has been replaced by<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">a dejected, disturbing digital death knell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The evening polity of chatter and cigar replaced by,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A grand gamut of glowing, glazed eyes under a spell. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Humans 'murdered' by digital media overkill)</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">While a poet commands merely a sharp pen, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">powerless to defeat the slithering Serpents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A ray of hope there still may be for I,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Like any poet, can instill hope, destroy futility<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And scribble away verdigris and rust. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Power of poetry)</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Time has mended some tears in the cloth,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The laws of attraction match the laws of the heart, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">like cannot repel anymore; the unlike needn’t attract either,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Don’t ask, don’t tell?’ Well then, I’ll sing and proclaim:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Natural selection will weed out your breed!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Second Sex rules empires of wealth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Unlike physical strength mental prowess is eternal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They bring down the damp, the deaf and the dim,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">with grace and cogent analytical clarity. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(Acceptance of LGBTQ+ rights, women empowerment)</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The decades have never been more dishonest,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">the decades have never been more advanced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Might we, a species of collective indecisiveness,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">learn from history, revise the past?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Might I, a creature of doubt and flawed produce,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">journey to the underworlds to bring back Eurydike?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Would you, beleaguered by the Eros in your construct,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">become the creature of my dreams, of a poet’s futile exercise?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span><br />
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P.S. If you're an IB student scouting for sample Written Assignments, it might help you to know I scored 19/20 for this assignment (rationale + poem).</div>
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Goodbye!</div>
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-49224296273095483092018-01-31T02:52:00.000-08:002018-02-23T02:52:54.947-08:00The Monthly Ledger: January 2017<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello!<br />
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I hope you're doing well! I've just finished school (I miss it already!) and I can already see the light at the end of the terrifying tunnel of US college admissions! UK and Canada awaits, so I shall stall no longer with this month's reads!<br />
<i><br /></i> <i><br /></i> 1. <i>Origin </i>by Dan Brown - finished 28/12/2017<br />
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<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/518ICrLrtiL._SX319_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for dan brown origin" border="0" height="400" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/518ICrLrtiL._SX319_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="256" /></a>I mean, need I say anything? I've been a long-time lover of Dan Brown and have found no other author that can meld mystery and fact together so skillfully.</div>
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<i>Origin </i>begins with Robert going to the tech-prophet Edmond Kirsh's (a genius that can predict the future with statistics and computing - go data science and analytics!) unveiling of a presentation that could potentially destroy religion by presenting solid evidence that could upend the fundamental laws of all world religions. On the day of the presentation, however (perhaps a little bit too predictably) Edmond Kirsh is shot. The story then follows Robert Langdon and Ambra Vidal, who helped organize Kirsh's presentation, as they try to unveil Edmond Kirsh's secret.</div>
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Edmond Kirsch is definitely one of my favourite characters from the Dan Brown series. His flair for the dramatic, his combined love for poetry and computing, his open hate derision of religion make him an interesting, varied character. I also liked how Dan Brown didn't completely stereotype him - Edmond Kirch was a tousled hair, sarastic-t-shirt wearing, unassuming genius at college, but is now a fashion-savvy, 'totally hip' man that knows how to ruffle the feathers of the masses (Elon Muskian, in my opinion)<br />
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And as always, I loved the references to poems of yore, the description of Guggenheim and other tourist sites, the sheer amount of information about <i>everything</i>, the omnipresent symbols and the intellectual discussions between the main characters, particularly one between Langdon and the priest of <i>Sagrada Familia</i> - the conversation was purely intellectual and academic from both sides, with no fierce emotion clouding rationality - I liked that. </div>
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On the other hand, I felt Dan Brown went overboard with the descriptions that is annoying when all the reader wants is action. Some of the characters, despite being very informed and 'intellectual', seem to forget simple bits of information at crucial times. The plot was also quite predictable: 24-hour treasure hunt set in an exotic location (mostly European/Middle East) as Robert is being hunted by said exotic location's goverment while he runs around, trying to crack the code with an exotic beauty (in this case, Spanish). </div>
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Quite unlike his previous novels, Langdon takes a backseat in terms of knowledge in this book, probably because it has a lot of technology in it. </div>
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Origin maybe isn't Dan Brown's best work, but having been starved of a book for <i>four </i>insufferable years, it was reliving to meet Robert Langdon in another mindblowing thriller again.<br />
<i><br /></i> 2. <i>Gone Girl </i>by Gilian Flynn - finished 07/01/2018<br />
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<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41cSJI7PfHL._SX302_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for gone girl book" border="0" height="400" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41cSJI7PfHL._SX302_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>
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My list of psychopathic books is limited to only two- <i>The Shining, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (</i>and the farmhouse part from<i> The Girl who Played with Fire). </i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>Gone Girl</i> is another addition to my short, I-hope-I-don't-read-this-kind-of-thing-anymore-oh-wait-I-will list of books. When my friends told me this was disturbing, I never imagined the extent to which it would ravage my sanity. <i>Gone Girl </i>was <i>chilling, disturbing, traumatizing </i>and definitely<i>, entertaining. </i><br />
<i><br /></i> The book revolves around Amy and Nick, unhappily married, unhappy because when they met, both of them pretended to be 'cool' to impress each other. It's this effort to impress that leads to an initially happy marriage, and soon, an alleged murder, frame-up, a righteous vendetta, actual murder and an alleged-kidnap-and-murder and a psychotic sociopath that is downright scary.<br />
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A quick punctuated list of Gone Girl's highlights:<br />
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<li>Amy and Nick - what a clever choice of names to contrast a story so insidious. Just your average Nick and your average Amy. </li>
<li>The book, like many, intelligently portrays that justice is largely determined by society - there's no 'right' or 'wrong', just 'what does the public think'. Towards the end, when a character is (wrongly) thought to be blameless and another wants to convict (spoiler alert) her, a police officer says it isn't possible, because it's all about 'what the public opinion is' (not verbatim). This malleability of justice is liberating in some cases - it has what made homosexuality, which was previously considered criminal, to be legal. In other cases, this malleability could be exploited by criminals that have actually committed a crime like murder or rape (which have <i>always</i><b style="font-style: italic;"> </b> been considered a crime in <i>nearly all</i> societies - should even this change in the future, we know we've hit rock-bottom) because public opinion is always driven by emotions and TRP ratings, not the truth. </li>
<li>The uncannily persuasive narrative writing style. Flynn's writing style literally messed up my sense of judgment - it takes advantage of our prejudices, our lack of knowledge of our lack of knowledge. Insanely clever. </li>
<li>At a point in the novel, we find out that it was Amy's 'Cool Girl' persona that initially drew Nick to her. It really made me think of personality standards, as I had discussed (ranted?) in the previous post. Amy complains of how men prefer the 'Cool Girl' - young, funny, attractive, easy-to-maintain, light-hearted and undemanding. As though men want an undemanding creature for their entertainment, not recognizing that the creature is an entirely separate being, a woman, who can be grim, demanding, attention-seeking, dramatic, high-maintenence if she goddamn wants to. And for that reason, I understood Amy and her (spoiler alert, sort of) God-like dole out of punishments. </li>
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And with that, I give you January!<br />
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Goodbye!</div>
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-50525902957286392732017-12-18T22:47:00.003-08:002018-01-01T01:03:27.059-08:00Magical Creatures, Instagram Captions and Romanticism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Twenty-first century poetry sings,</div>
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ardently designs the elusive 'she'</div>
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She, the dreamy fighter,</div>
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the wondrous traveler,</div>
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the unimaginable lover,</div>
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the magnificent conqueror,</div>
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a perfect, aesthetic woman, girl,</div>
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that fulfills the longings of</div>
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digital hearts.</div>
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Beauty standards?<br />
To hell with it!<br />
Let's set <i>personality </i>standards instead.<br />
Let's create a fantasical creature,<br />
with cheesy quotes and unmeaning words,<br />
now girls have to change their personality instead.<br />
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Go, now,<br />
become the girl with demon wings and starry eyes,<br />
become the girl that fights to death and silently cries,<br />
become the girl that displays strength but is weak inside.<br />
no, learning coding isn't magical enough,<br />
no, displaying your emotions isn't elusive enough,<br />
no, wanting to bake isn't wild enough.<br />
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Mind, Instapoets, 'she' is a representation of<br />
our depression, anger and longing,<br />
emotions that are forever bound by ever-pervasive isolation,<br />
and while you submit to 'her' so willfully,<br />
care before you sacrifice reality for inspiration.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFPTwstKhMfuu0pJEZLjzCGAwyIk920xp-SBwRPrw7wgIvbZtI4XQOD1LDZK3T1WcbNkjLjS-wcE2r90Q93F-KeGV4BngoHqhGYr-Iiel2-014DcM776ljvV1YFtneYAkXyCyVHXGk5E/s1600/she.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1040" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFPTwstKhMfuu0pJEZLjzCGAwyIk920xp-SBwRPrw7wgIvbZtI4XQOD1LDZK3T1WcbNkjLjS-wcE2r90Q93F-KeGV4BngoHqhGYr-Iiel2-014DcM776ljvV1YFtneYAkXyCyVHXGk5E/s320/she.png" width="306" /></a></div>
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***</div>
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I'll admit it, I like poems about the 'she' too. They sound exotic and otherworldly. They give me a fantasical 'role model' to follow in a life dictated by college admissions and academic credentials (nothing wrong with that I guess :P). The words are powerful: they are sweet to my ears, soothing to my heart and invigorating to my mind.<br />
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This one, for instance (and for obvious reasons), was a memorable quote:<br />
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<a href="https://karmicreaction.files.wordpress.com/2016/12/img_0292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for poems she" border="0" height="281" src="https://karmicreaction.files.wordpress.com/2016/12/img_0292.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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However, I began to have second thoughts when I began to see kids using these as their Instagram captions. Ten more posts captioned the same way, and it became annoying, but I couldn't exactly put my finger on <i>what</i> was it about this 'she' that began to annoy me - this 'she' was beautiful, daring and exotic and even I admired her, so what's so different about it when kids younger than me begin to talk about her?<br />
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You see, what is odd with 'she' is that this creation <i>glorifies sadness</i>. It makes being depressed, lonely and elusive a beautiful, exotic and fearless thing to be. Crying behind closed doors, instead of seeking help, is lovely. Putting up an energetic, social persona, and crumbling behind curtains, is appealing. Being this messy, deep, dark girl that doesn't utter her deepest desires and acts them out through wildness is fashionable.<br />
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And when young teenagers are exposed to this kind of personification (without the context of a novel, unlike the Dean Koontz quote above), while the extent to which it can be <i>dangerous </i>is questionable, it would somewhat alter their idea of practicality. Being practical and responsible would be (and in fact, is) regarded as boring; being reckless, wild and full of fun (nothing wrong with a little bit of each though) would be the 'it' thing. This reminds of the Romantic era (refer <a href="https://k2nivetha.blogspot.com/2016/11/sophies-world-by-jostein-gaarder_4.html">Sophie's World</a> book review) when inspiration and star-crossed love was glorified - perhaps it must be mentioned that in conjunction with the rise of romantic philosophers, suicide rates skyrocketed too. It still remains one of my favourite eras though.<br />
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On a deeper level, we could ask why we want to be romantic, why we like fantasy and magic, why we don't like practicality and empiricism. As Camus says in 'The Myth of Sisyphus' - without romanticizing things, life becomes stripped of all meaning and we find living to be indefinite and unworthy of living. (On a side note, The Myth of Sisyphus is an interesting read - it discusses if realizing life is meaningless necessitates suicide).<br />
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Though this may be a very small 'issue', and definitely a privileged, first-world one, it is something that has troubled my mind countless times.<br />
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Tell me what you think?</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-21097000300968657002017-11-17T09:35:00.000-08:002017-11-21T23:35:58.025-08:00Primordial Emotions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">An interesting article from the online magazine TeenInk: </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoSmall">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Use a Simpler Word in a Complicated Word's Place</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">English has a wonderful dual heritage. At its core there is a duality, a choice, between its formal, official Latinate roots, with its information, transubstantiation, and nutrition; and its earthy, warlike, immediate Germanic roots, with its knowledge, God, and bread. The Germanic words often hit us on a stronger, more emotional level. They are words that are more connected to our immediate needs for survival. They are the words that tell us about blood, food, and love, not lacerations, nourishment, and amorousness. One teacher of mine called these words, the types that refer to our most basic human desires and instincts, as primordial words. They are words that were in us before words even existed. If you think that's a contradiction, just don't overthink it. The goal of this exercise is to stop overthinking.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">At moments of great importance or emotion in books, you'll notice how everything gets simple, and writers return to primordial words to describe things. They are much more effective, more timeless, more human. The other words have their place, but they are fussy and distant. It's easy for you to switch them out at key points in your story, and they'll immediately give you a jolt of something both more vivid and more spiritual. These words feel more essential to our humanness. So when your character is dying or loving or weeping, remember these words, and use them liberally. Strike out the anxious, intellectual Latin."</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> "Writers return to primordial words to describe things"</b></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Please note that all credits go the author H. Blair*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
It is quite comforting to know that no matter how much humanity advances, no matter how 'un-humanlike' we may become with our increasing isolation, no matter how many lines we cross to create a utopian society, concepts like 'love', 'hunger' and 'blood' will always be our base instincts. It truly shows that we could go a full circle back to our primal instincts. There are countless articles claiming that we live in the most peaceful time of humanity, which I personally agree with, but I believe humanity yearns for the innocence of its ancestors as an adult does for her childhood.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*From: <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">"Teen Ink | Use A Simpler Word - Teen Ink Weekly."
Teenink.Com, 2017, http://www.teenink.com/Weekly/2017-10-24-article.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-74804596912263527152017-10-27T06:52:00.001-07:002017-10-27T06:52:05.290-07:00IB is the Thing with Feathers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
IB is the thing with feathers, that clings to the soul<br />
and screeches the tune with all the words and never stops at all.<br />
<br />
- I'm just kidding!</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-49164916074039880372017-10-10T05:01:00.002-07:002017-10-10T05:01:31.902-07:00Self-Made Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .25in;">
A boiling kettle of frothy milk ready to spill
over,</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Anger ready to
burst from the veins,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Dim
resignation to life's challenges, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Mindless
stomping through lifeless days,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Quiet
contemplation of ending it all,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Fear bursting
from hastily-stitched seams,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Too nervous to
rhyme properly,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Too busy to
properly rhyme,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Fear, fear of
living a normal life,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Tired, tired
to live an extraordinary one,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Such is the
life of a mere 16-year-old,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Barely begun
with life,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">contemplating
termination already,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">with all the
pressure of self-made dreams.<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
**</div>
<i>A small piece I wrote on the 25th of May that I was extremely hesitant to post. But hey, in the words of Joseph Reaux, '</i>Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes<i>' </i><i>and Sunday clothes are rarely a feast for the eyes, are they? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>In any case, reader, hopefully, I will stop writing poetry positively dripping with teen angst and emotion - it really ruins the vibe of this blog.</i></div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-12914060547450458902017-09-16T23:11:00.001-07:002017-09-16T23:19:52.689-07:00The Monthly Ledger: September 2017<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Perhaps I should make these yearly ledgers.<br />
<br />
Hullo, hullo!<br />
<br />
How are you? This month, I have been up to my nose in homework and deadlines (interesting etymology - do google it!) but still snatched some time during the travel home, during dinner or borrowed some (very) expensive sleep time to read a few books.<br />
<br />
Now, I've got some good news and bad news. The good news is that I will be finishing school in about 2 months, and after that, I will sell my soul to liven this blog. The bad news is that I've got two more months of school, during which I'm probably going to forget that I have a blog. Let's hope that the time I finally go back to regular posts (remember the Friday Posts Oath?), I will still have some soul and spirit.<br />
<br />
Anyway, here are some quick comments on two great books I read over the past few months:<br />
<br />
<b>1) Love, Aubrey by Suzanne LaFleur</b><br />
<br />
<a href="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1442769697l/5982448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Love, Aubrey" border="0" height="320" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1442769697l/5982448.jpg" width="216" /></a>An upset me picked up this for need of a book without war and destruction (and it had a goodreads rating of 4.2). It turned out to be a light, poignant read and ended up with me being more upset than when I started it. The writing style was very relaxing, and LaFleur has very intelligently places stylistic elements (like letters, events) so that they struck a definitive, emotional chord within the reader. The part about (spolier alert) a dead sister made me tear up (I've a little sister too, oops), especially because LaFleur skillfully protrayed the purity and innocence of the sisters' relationship. However, it isn't a very fast-paced plot and I would recommend this only to those who are expecting a deeply reflective, slow-paced plot set in the country.<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Overall Rating: 3.5/5</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>2) Women of Iron, by Catherine King</b><br />
<br />
<a href="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328819897l/1719114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Women of Iron" border="0" height="320" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328819897l/1719114.jpg" width="193" /></a>No other feminist book have I read (except for the <i>Memoirs of a Geisha</i>) has portrayed the women in such a blaringly harsh and raw manner. Set in England during the Industrial Revolution, it follows the story of Lissie, an beautiful orphaned bastard of pure, noble blood, who is sold to a conniving trader. A jarring turn of events ends with her rape, betrayal by her love interest and the death of her a father, the only person who truly cared for her. Women of Iron was truthful through and through and despite the happy ending for the protagonist, the emotional growth she undergoes with a series of brutal betrayals and rape makes her deserving of it. The only downside to this book was that some parts of it were unnecessarily long and dragged out, making it rather boring sometimes (and it wasn't worth the valuable sleep-time I had borrowed). I also wouldn't call it an <i>entertaining </i>read, but a book that has to be read purely for the sake of knowing.<br />
<br />
Overall: 3.5/5<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>3) Room, by Emma Donoghue</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="Room" height="400" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1344265419l/7937843.jpg" width="259" /><br />
Overall: 4/5<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>AND A BOOK EXHIBITION!</b><br />
<br />
There happened to be a book sale in my city (!) and I bought books worth a few thousand rupees. I will review these once I work off my sleep debt.<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><i>Love, Aubrey</i> by Suzanne LaFleur</li>
<li>Women of Iron, by Catherine King</li>
<li>Princess, by Jean Sasson</li>
<li>Room, by Emma Donoghue</li>
<li>The Pact, by Jodi Picoult</li>
<li>Spirit Walker, by Michelle Paver</li>
<li>Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn (Yes, I haven't read it yet)</li>
</ul>
<div>
Until next time, reader!</div>
</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-10895726886468276972017-08-22T22:30:00.000-07:002017-09-16T23:12:48.130-07:00Gingerbread<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's a piece by that adamant mountain,<br />
one by that sparkling river,<br />
one in that water nymph's hair<br />
one by that unrhyming canyon.<br />
<br />
A piece of me all over the world,<br />
a jack in all trades,<br />
ought to mean that I own the golden eggs,<br />
O Boy, it appears that I forgot another rhyme.<br />
<br />
As words drop our syllable by syllable,<br />
mind, not on the page, dear reader,<br />
old fluidity long bygone,<br />
replaced by that empty rock, yes,<br />
the one right there.<br />
<br />
Hope is the thing with feathers,<br />
that perches in the soul,<br />
but when your soul is<br />
tried up tufts of hair<br />
rolling across the African savannah,<br />
oops, there goes my rhyme and reason.<br />
<br />
Over the course of lines few,<br />
I have lost pieces and rhyme,<br />
reason and time.<br />
Nevermore, mind.<br />
<br />
- Lynn Gweeny<br />
<br />
<i>The randomness of this piece never fails to amuse me.</i></div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-85184090954151682562017-01-08T09:53:00.000-08:002017-01-08T10:07:03.280-08:00The Monthly Ledger: January 2017<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Good day, mate. Though I can't really call it a good day can I? When can one call a good day good? When it's goodness surpasses the conventional amount of goodness or perhaps when its goodness isn't badness? Or when the sun shines? Or maybe when I can make a new hat? Oh, stuff and nonsense. There's no such thing as a good day as a good day can only be called a good day by one that is having a good day and not a bad day. We are all mad here, aren't we? Good thing we're not all hatters though. We can't all handle all the nonsense and stuff and much of a muchness and nonsense all over again.<br />
<br />
Oh sweet sweet <i>Hatta</i>. How I wish you weren't mad!<br />
<br />
<b>1) Heartless, by Marissa Meyer</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://images.gr-assets.com/books/1477740245l/18584855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for heartless marissa meyer" border="0" src="http://images.gr-assets.com/books/1477740245l/18584855.jpg" /></a></div>
<i>Jest.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
What can I say? This book was heartbreaking and so very believable.<br />
<br />
"<i>Long before, Alive fell down the rabbit hole...and before the roses were painted red...the Queen of Hearts was just a girl, in love for the first time</i>"<br />
<br />
It follows the story of Lady Catherine Pinkerton of Turtle Rock Cove and her love for baking and love. She has had only one dream ever: to open a bakery (named <i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">Sweets and Tarts: The Most Wonderous Bakery in All of Hearts)</i> with her handmaiden and friend, Mary Anne. A sly move by her mother and she's about to be proposed to by the King, a blabbering idiot twice as old as her (I so very despise him. He's the beefy kind I want to roast over a campfire while he giggles) . Enter Jest (groan). Lovely, mysterious, witty and humorous <i>Jest. </i>Jest, who has curly hair, amber eyes, a three pointed hat and a Raven as companion. Cath is now betrothed to the King, in love with Jest but wants a bakery. Meanwhile, a Jabberwock terrorizes her kingdom, Hearts. And with each step, she is only closer to the <i style="text-align: right;">Murderer, Mad, Martyr and Monarch. </i><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
First off, if I were Arya Stark, this is how <i>my </i>list will look like:<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Cath's mother</li>
<li>The blabbering fool, the King of hearts</li>
<li>Cath's mother</li>
<li>Mary Ann</li>
<li>Cath's father</li>
<li>Cath's damn mother</li>
<li>KILL THE MOTHER DAMMIT, THE MOTHER!</li>
</ol>
<div>
I'd pick the Jabberwock over Cath's mother, the Marchioness, any day. She's sly, controlling, selfish and pathetic. Five pages into the book and I hated her and felt very remorseful for Cath - it is very sad to see that the one person who's supposed to love you is pushing you over a cliff. What Cath does to her at the end, was nothing compared to what she deserves. The people of Hearts are mumbling, stammering, ignorant fools too - they cover up Jabberwock attacks with fake smiles and plastic faces and pretend nothing ever happened, that no one was ever killed so that they can go back to their happy, whimsical ignorant lives. BURN THEM ALL, LANNISTER, BURN THEM! *on a side note, autocorrect corrected Lannister to bannister xD if that isn't the funniest thing on earth!*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I love Catherine. She's a very strong woman and though she has her whimsies and dreams, I admired the way she didn't lose her heart so quickly to Jest, unlike the protagonists in other romance novels (in these other books, the female lead is desperately "trying" not to fall for the guy, but then she's says "I can't help it! I can't control my heart! My traitorous heart!). I could see that she made a genuine effort to keep him away too. Very passionate, witty and fiery when the situation calls for it. Another favorite character of mine was the mad Hatta. I remember at one point when he gives Cath a full, genuine smile for the first time and she realizes that he's indeed very handsome. I felt that this was a very cruel technique Meyer used to foreshadow that he was going to go mad! ARGHHHH. Hatta's end was the most cruel and I was near tears and no, he doesn't die. And Jest, Jest, Jest *sigh*. He's utterly perfect. He's so notoriously, irascibly and perfectly flawed. He has a strong character and a thoughtful, humorous personality. And how much I love that Raven of his!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Meyer has impressively crafted Cath's character and by the end of the book, I understood why she'd become the cruel Queen of Hearts, and I forgave her for all that she has done. The contrast between the flour-covered, whimsical, dreamy girl in page one and the cruel, heartless, vengeful woman in page 500 was shocking, but completely understandable. With all the events that had happened in the book, I felt it, I felt cruel, vengeful, heartless, I felt nothing. I think Meyer has beautifully replicated the Victorian era of forbidden love, social class discrimination and ignorant and unsympathetic parents. I think this book is an amazing Meyer-style expansion of the 'crazy, kooky, quirky world' of Lewis Carrol, an impressive backstory of the notorious Queen of Hearts.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
Quick Quotes Quill:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>“Perhaps we know each other in the future and you’re only remembering backward.”</i> (Jest to Catherine, when Cath says she's seen him before)</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>“Now mine eyes see the heart that once we did search for, and I fear this heart shall be mended, nevermore.”</i> (Raven, on Cath's heart)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>“Impossible is my specialty"</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">And my favourite:</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>Off with his head!</i></span></span></div>
</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-79864395699433844432016-12-23T10:01:00.000-08:002018-02-12T08:11:57.298-08:00The Monthly Ledger: December 2016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey there!<br />
<br />
As the year draws to a close, I'd definitely conclude that this year, though I read very few books, I read some of the most influential ones. I'm done with my first year in IB and will be starting the second one in January 2017! We've still 9 days to 2017 but I've got the next year jam-packed to the minute! Tons of homework to complete, quality time with family and friends but most importantly, the prodigious International Baccalaureate Exams! These exams will decide whether universities will accept me, whether I will get a worthwhile job and whether my parents will disown me or not! 2017 is going to be a year of collective indecisiveness, hard work, failures, successes and most importantly, a lot of tears.<br />
<br />
2016 has been a mixed year of successes and failures. I got my ICE Certificate in March (Distinction!), continuously did bad in Math HL ever since, participated in my first ever MUN conference, participated in HMUN, learned calligraphy, did my own science experiments, wrote an 800-word Audenesque poem, a fashion article set in the 1920s but most importantly, learned a lot.<br />
<br />
Well, enough with the talking! Here's a list of a few memorable books I read in this year (I may have missed a few):<br />
<br />
<b>1) Unaccustomed Earth - </b><b>Jhumpa Lahiri</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/b/b9/Unaccustomed_Earth.jpg/220px-Unaccustomed_Earth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for jhumpa lahiri unaccustomed earth" border="0" height="320" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/b/b9/Unaccustomed_Earth.jpg/220px-Unaccustomed_Earth.jpg" width="212" /></a><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/b/b9/Unaccustomed_Earth.jpg/220px-Unaccustomed_Earth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
A decent book. A collection of short stories about Bengali families living in the US and how the immigrants' children grow, not as Bengalis, but Americans. A few stories were good but my favourite was the last one, Hema and Kaushik. My least favourite was 'A Choice of Accomodations' since I didn't quite get the point of it all.<br />
<br />
I felt that I could relate to some of the characters in this book. Having moved to India from Singapore, lectures reminding me the importance of culture are not uncommon in my family. I strongly believe in culture and think it is essential to practice one's culture because as a human being, we have an innate need for a unique identity. While I don't mean to insult modernization, I do find it to be slightly generic and dull.<br />
<br />
Rating: 3/5<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>2) </b><b>The Kite Runner </b><b>and </b><b>And The Mountains Echoed - Khaled Hosseini</b><br />
<br />
<img alt="Image result for the kite runner" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/6/62/Kite_runner.jpg" /> <img alt="Image result for and the mountains echoed" height="400" src="https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1360512583i/17345741._UY200_.jpg" width="255" /><br />
<br />
Well what can I say? I am incredibly glad to have read A Thousand Splendid Suns and incredibly glad to have a teacher recommend me this author. Hosseini is an amazing storyteller, needless to say, and his books ravage the reader's very soul. The Kite Runner was immensely heart-wrenching and shocking and written in a very entertaining style. <i>A book that stays with you longer after you finish reading.</i><br />
<br />
However, I felt rather disappointed with 'And the Mountains Echoed'. Though I understand Hosseini was experimenting with a new writing style (it consists of nine chapters, each told from a different perspective), I couldn't connect with the characters personally and I was annoyed with a few. I liked the perspective of Abdullah and wanted to read more about him but it wasn't long before Hosseini shifted to another character's perspective. Hosseini didn't just leap from perspective to perspective but also across generations and time, which left me very confused and exasperated. This book didn't have the natural rhythm to it that Hosseini's previous books had.<i> A book you're glad you finished reading. </i><br />
<br />
The Kite Runner: 5/5<br />
And The Mountains Echoed: 2/5<br />
<br />
<b>3) Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for memoirs of a geisha book" class="irc_mi iBYMgg8f3CZ8-pQOPx8XEepE" height="320" src="https://covers.booktopia.com.au/big/9780099771517/memoirs-of-a-geisha.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="208" /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*Accidentally watches the movie for two and a half hours*</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And I'm back!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A peaceful book. The kind you realize you've learned so much only <i>after</i> you've finished the book. It's rather gross in some parts, because the protagonist, Chiyo (later renamed Nitta Sayuri) loves a man around 20 years older than her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Regardless, it's beautiful. It's culturally very rich, especially considering the fact that this is the first book I've ever read about Japanese culture. A geisha's lifestyle is poignantly portrayed, and I deeply admire the lengths to which a geisha can go to save her reputation, beauty and her </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">danna</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">. From the outside, I felt like geisha were "royalty" of sorts, what with their skill, grace and the money that's </span>bestowed<span style="font-family: inherit;"> upon them by their customers. However, it's only later in the book that I realized that geisha are not really as gifted as the appear - Mameha says, "</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic;">We do not become Geisha to pursue our own destinies. We become Geisha because we have no other choice.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><i> </i>"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">As a reader, I could see Chiyo mature through the pages and her determination to meet the love of her life again is very impressive. Towards the end of the book, Golden shows us a changed geisha district: Americans, having now won the war against Japan, are now strolling through 'sacred' geisha districts, loud and raucous. I would say this part infuriated me the most: I absolutely despised the way Americans disrespected geisha - the begin to ask for sexual favours, something geisha believe is beneath them and is the utter insult to their profession, for a geisha <i>sells her skills, not her body.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">I also felt that some parts of the book were rather slow and unnecessary. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another favourite line from Mameha: "<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><i>Remember, Chiyo, geisha are not courtesans. And we are not wives. We sell our skills, not our bodies. We create another secret world, a place only of beauty. The very word "geisha" means artist and to be a geisha is to be judged as a moving work of art.</i>"</span></span></div>
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Rating: 4/5<br />
<br />
Well, since I'm rather out of time, I'll be listing all the books for now and updating this post later.<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>The Girl Who Played With Fire, Steig Larsson</li>
<li>A Clash of Kings, George R.R. Martin</li>
<li>Island of the Blue Dolphins, Scott O'Dell</li>
<li>The Silver Star, Jeannette Walls,</li>
<li>Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi</li>
<li>Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, by J. K. Rowling, Jack Thorne, John Tiffany</li>
<li>Stardust, Neil Gaiman</li>
<li>Fatherhood, Bill Cosby</li>
<li>The Rose and the Dagger, Renee Ahdieh</li>
<li>And many more I can't remember!</li>
</ul>
Goodbye!</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-1549208695080342532016-11-04T23:47:00.004-07:002018-02-12T08:17:40.395-08:00Sophie's World, by Jostein Gaarder<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello everyone!<br />
<br />
I deeply apologize for not having posted something in a <i>very </i>long time. I have been rather preoccupied with IB (for all those who don't know, I am doing the IB program - perhaps I'll post something on that topic later on) but that doesn't mean I've given up on my books! A few books I read these past (frightening) months were Memoirs of a Geisha, A Court of Mist and Fury, The Girl Who Played with Fire, Stardust (Neil Gaiman) and a few more. From now on, I plan on posting a 'Monthly Ledger' of all the 'bibliophilic' events in my life, starting with today! Vamos, let's delve into October!<br />
<br />
<br />
Presenting....<br />
<br />
Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder<br />
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This was a book my Theory of Knowledge teacher had suggested way back in the beginning of my IB program. (TOK is a subject focusing on philosophy - and its history - and aims to develop critical thinking skills. In addition, you also develop the art of - forgive me - 'bullshitting' - through essays. But I personally find TOK an amazing subject to <i>discuss</i> about. It's definitely one of my most favourite IB classes).<br />
<br />
I digress, as always.<br />
<br />
Moving on, Sophie's World's is a story revolving around 14-year-old Norwegian teenager (on the threshold of 15) Sophie Amundsun, who begins to get mysterious letters from a man. The contents of these letters concern something dynamic and gruesome: the history of philosophy. As the novel progresses, Sophie begins to get letters from her 'philosophy teacher' and eventually meets him: her a philosophy teacher - Alberto Knox - is a middle-aged man with a blue beret and a little apartment of priceless possessions over the ages: from the Dutch philosopher Spinoza's optical glass lenses to the first edition of a book of Descartes' philosophical essays published in 1637, of which the very famous <i>Discourse on Method</i> originally appeared. As Alberto and Sophie advance through the ages, they learn about about everyone from Socrates (the very first Greek 'philosopher' in the world) to Sartre ( a French philosopher, one of the last notable ones of the last century). They learn about dualism, pantheism, existentialism, romanticism, nihilism, neoplatonism, Platonism, feminism, capitalism, communism, socialism, egoism, empiricism, rationalism, Hegelism, idealism, materialism, pluralism, skepticism, stoicism, sophism and together with them, so did I. The more Sophie learns, the more she realizes that her world is....imaginary. No, not in some artistic, rhetorical sense but literally. She and Alberto Knox use the techniques of various philosophers and come to understand that they are the mere figments of the imagination of Major Albert Knag, a Norwegian UN officer fighting on the war-front in Lebanon. They were being toyed around as a surprise for Major Albert Knag's daughter, Hilde's, birthday. <i>Literally</i>. How they escape the clutches of the Major forms the rest of the plot.<br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><b>Comments:</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"><b><br /></b></span> A good book, but only if you have a lot of time in your hands. Reading it in one week, like I did due to time constraints, is not a very good idea, since this book requires even <i>you </i>to put your thoughts into it. Moreover, I got rather annoyed towards the end of the book because I was engrossed in the mystery of the Major more than the the history of philosophy and I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. Sometimes, I wish Alberto weren't so mysterious too, what with his ambiguous wording and all-knowing persona.<br />
<br />
On the upside, Jostein Gaarder is an amazing storyteller - he explains every major philosophy with such simplicity, without betraying their sheer importance. There are a multitude of examples for each and unlike Wikipedia pages, he narrates philosophy like a story, each philosopher gradually folding into another and another and another and so on.<br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"><b><br /></b></span> <span style="color: #741b47; font-weight: bold;">Quick Quotes Quill:</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span> <i>"The universe is a great mystery"</i><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span> <b>Concerning Romanticists</b>: <i>"This yearning for something distant and unattainable was characteristic of the Romantics. They longed for bygones eras, such as the Middle Ages, which now became enthusiastically reappraised after the Enlightenment's negative evaluation. And they longed for distant cultures like the Orient with its mysticism. Or else they would feel drawn to Night, to Twilight, to old ruins and the supernatural. They were preoccupied with that we usually refer to as the dark side of life, or the murky, uncanny and mystical." </i><br />
<br />
How similar is this to the teenagers of today! A few notable Romanticists and their work: <i>The Sorrows of the Young Werther</i> by Goethe, 1774; <i>She Walks in Beauty</i> by Lord Byron; <i>Heinrich von Ofterdingen </i>by Novalis, 1801 (unfinished). Most Romantics died young, either due to tuberculosis or suicide, the latter of which was rising in Europe because unrequited love was becoming a popular concept. However, though Romanticism concerned majorly of romantic love, it also concerned the synthesis of philosophy, nature study and poetry. They believed the world and its people are one (world spirit) and that nature is a living, thriving organism. "<i>Sitting in your attic dashing off inspired verses and investigating the life of plants or the composition of rocks were only two sides of the same coin because nature is not a dead mechanism, it is one living world spirit</i>". Perhaps it is because of thoughts like these that most Romanticists either died young or grew up and became anti-Romantic and conservationist. Popular Romantics included Beethoven, Hans Christian Anderson, Brothers Grimm and Schelling.<br />
<br />
Two more quotes which I absolutely loved and have truly experienced:<br />
<br />
<i>"The fairy tale gave the writer free rein to exploit his "universe-imagination" [universe-creating refers to God]. And even the creative act was not always completely conscious. The writer could experience that his story was being written by some innate force. He could practically be in a hypnotic trance while he wrote". "</i><br />
<br />
[On the breaking of the barrier between the conscious and the subconscious]<i> "All artists are aware of that. But then suddenly it's as if all the doors and all drawers fly open. Everything comes tumbling out by itself, and we can find all the words and images we need. This is when we have"lifted the lid" of the unconscious. We can call it inspiration, Sophie. It feels as if what we are drawing or writing is coming from some outside source. "</i><br />
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<a href="http://i.enkivillage.com/zwso5tDlvn07Ko43APUu48WlA4k=/800x0//images/2016/08/0366ea6d87edc8cfca2e91d2d449b553.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for sophie's world quotes" border="0" height="200" src="https://i.enkivillage.com/zwso5tDlvn07Ko43APUu48WlA4k=/800x0//images/2016/08/0366ea6d87edc8cfca2e91d2d449b553.png" width="400" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://i.enkivillage.com/b-PD9booqby--W-kMcEG4siX2DI=/800x0//images/2016/08/443b39f7e77ea4be8026771749875021.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Image result" border="0" height="200" src="https://i.enkivillage.com/b-PD9booqby--W-kMcEG4siX2DI=/800x0//images/2016/08/443b39f7e77ea4be8026771749875021.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/5d/8f/ee/5d8fee61dd40e7a077354ae77c5582f1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for sophie's world quotes how sad is it" border="0" height="200" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/5d/8f/ee/5d8fee61dd40e7a077354ae77c5582f1.jpg" width="200" /></a><img alt="Image result" height="160" src="https://i.enkivillage.com/VP2p66h15LRvLNHBWa0wxSGOr8Q=/800x0//images/2016/08/1d411ac2a667510958c6721cfb2cd835.png" width="320" /><br />
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And I'd like to day goodbye with one last thought:<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://quotefancy.com/media/wallpaper/3840x2160/358400-Jostein-Gaarder-Quote-How-terribly-sad-it-was-that-people-are-made.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for sophie's world quotes how terribly sad it is that people are made in such a way that get used to something as extraordinary as living" border="0" height="180" src="https://quotefancy.com/media/wallpaper/3840x2160/358400-Jostein-Gaarder-Quote-How-terribly-sad-it-was-that-people-are-made.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-84432817417857605112016-09-13T10:16:00.000-07:002017-10-12T05:18:53.014-07:00Corro, let me run!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Another dramatic episode of cognitive chaos. </b><br />
<br />
These walls drive me crazy,<br />
there's hate spewing everywhere,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
stop with the proverbs and mindless advice,<br />
no, they're getting me nowhere!<br />
<br />
I need to run,<br />
run, run, far from this burning hell.<br />
Every step resounds with hatred and fury,<br />
annoyed by ignorance, inaction and the futility of things.<br />
<br />
Presente, preterite presente compuesto,<br />
sweet jesus!<br />
Run, run, to someplace away,<br />
stay away and never come back.<br />
<br />
Are these people cruel?<br />
Are humans ignorant?<br />
Must I feel blessed to be born in this damned species?<br />
Must I stay with them forever?<br />
<br />
Run, run, corro, let me run<br />
to Hang Son Doong,<br />
to the Islands of the Caribbean,<br />
to the Amazonian forests,<br />
I don't know, just let me go.<br />
<br />
Sri Chinmoy, you're wrong,<br />
Anger can destroy peace,<br />
not the other way around.<br />
<br />
Ugh, I'm suffocated,<br />
Anger - stop eating me!<br />
He clouds my thought, my senses and reason,<br />
I can't think anymore, I'm exploding.<br />
<br />
Lord, what's wrong?<br />
Is it me or the world?<br />
There's so much fury boiling inside me,<br />
but who is it I hate - the world or me?<br />
<br />
No, stop telling me this world is kind!<br />
It's broken, spoiled and filled with malice.<br />
Arabs, Jews, Africans suffering,<br />
and I've been told learning past perfect will fix this world!<br />
<br />
My mind's a tangle of webs,<br />
and I think about the greater good and troubles,<br />
must I think about the world so much,<br />
for the most intimidating thing that could happen to me,<br />
is going past the deadlines.<br />
<br />
Ugh, the futility of everything terrorizes me,<br />
Humans, you have brought unto thyself doom,<br />
the futility of this poem manifests as hatred,<br />
I'm grasping at fraying ends of inspiration, but for whom?<br />
<br />
*A terrible poem, with terrible words and a terrible rhyme scheme. But dear reader, do understand that I want to publish the original, unedited version of the poem.</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-2488535027705300882016-08-19T10:48:00.002-07:002016-08-19T10:48:30.032-07:00Descriptive: Art of the Heavens<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A descriptive I wrote while I was practicing for my IGCSE exams. Enjoy!</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Argh! With one last growl of effort, I pushed aside the
thick leafy branch that struck out into my face, and leapt out onto the last
brown branch of the tree, the zenith of my arduous climb. I did it!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have scaled Old Gaia, the tallest conifer, evergreen
call it, in our lush, springtime neighborhood. Joy bubbled in me like an
effervescent potion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I was standing with closed eyes, with one leg upon the
topmost, spindly branch of the corner and another leg and hang hugging the
central bark sideways. However, the first thing that struck me was the ominous,
deafening silence as my heart hammered in my eardrums. The unnerving silence
turned liquid, seeped into me and stopped all the reaction in my body, making
me feel weightless for a split second.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soon, as my huffing and panting dies and my heart began beating
at its regular pace, I fluttered open my eyes...to a Picasso painting of sorts,
a fantastical work of art by Dali perhaps, depicting his dreams. Before me laid
a wide stretch of lush green below and a beautiful mixture of scarlet cerulean
and orange above.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Above, the heavens seemed as if the angels had
accidentally split buckets of paint and happened to taint the cerulean sky with
the glorious, resplendent colours of the sunset: scarlet, azure, orange and pink.
The shades merged into each other to form other nuances in the colour palette
that no man can achieve. Among the beautiful frenzy of colours, fluffy white
clouds loitered about the sky aimlessly, like cotton dabbed in a box of paint. However,
the most magnificent of all was the large, orange ball of fire far out into the
void, dipping into the Earth behind a row of apple trees. The sun, the object
around which our entire existence revolved, without which we wouldn’t have the
option of even considering the statement ‘to be or not to be’ shone as bright
as ever as its golden rays caressed the ravaged Earth to wholeness. The sky
simply exploded with the gaudy colours of pastels, vivacious and alive. A flock
of birds flew past me overhead, their wings held a lot by a cooling sigh of
wind. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The masterpiece below was a separate entity of beauty. A
lush green carpet sheathed the ground, glistening in the evening rain. The
sheep were a reflection of the clouds above – white fluffs wandering aimlessly
in a sea of green. A clique of ten boys tackled a single ballm while their
endless chatter, squeals of delight and shouts of victory was scattered by the
wind. The landscape was dotted with random humans doing what is necessary to
close the day by tying its loose ends together. Some distance away,
interminable serpents of smoke began snaking their way out of the sea of red
roofs to the west as people prepared for the chilly night to creep up on them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, from my vantage point, I knew I was the Queen
and Protector of all I survey – the heaven, the sun and the hinterlands belong
to me!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From here, I knew I was both invisible and invincible.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">14th September 2015</span></span></div>
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-60103284810006853552016-06-13T06:36:00.002-07:002016-06-13T06:58:15.216-07:00Wondering about the Divine Comedy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just had this thought while reading about 'Inferno' in the Divine Comedy: as Dante descends the rings of hell and sees more of God's increasingly cruel punishments to those who have sinned, he begins to understand that there is justice in God's violent acts. However, I can't help wondering:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
What is the difference between justice and revenge?</blockquote>
Is it justice only because God does it? If God thinks we should be merciful and compassionate, then how come he doesn't treat the sinned with mercy? Isn't that hypocritical of God? Now, since God considers hypocrisy to be a sin too, then shouldn't God be punished in the nine rings of hell too?<br />
<br />
What if <i>I </i>were to bury a man upside-down in the soil? What if <i>I </i>were to make the hypocrites in my life wear gilded coats of lead? What if <i>I </i>were to burn heretics alive in their tombs? I'm clearly not being merciful in all these cases, I'm being vengeful - or maybe I'm just being another 'God'.<br />
<br />
Maybe God isn't setting a very good example for all of us.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-36551447753924086172015-11-10T08:25:00.000-08:002015-11-10T08:32:21.561-08:00A couple of books<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">Hi there! Here's a list of all the books (or most of the books) I read in the past 2 -3 months. Time's being just a teensy bit merciless so I can't really write about each book but will do so as soon as possible! Meanwhile, enjoy Deepavali!</span></div>
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Hey everyone! Below is a (extremely) short passage I wrote about me sword-fighting, inspired by scenes from The Wrath and the Dawn. Enjoy!<br />
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“Up!” he shouted and I knew I had brought death upon myself.
“Again!” he barked and moved forward with his sword held at his right. Tired
and weary, but charged with adrenaline, I picked up the sword that lay on the
dusty ground and gripped it tightly in my raw hands. I widened my stance, like
he had suggested, and supported the weight of the entire sword with my upper
body strength. Taaraz advanced forward and I looked into his eyes, those narrow
pools of uninviting green shining with merciless power. Yet, like the imbecile
I was, I glared back with the same revulsion. <i>One leg forward, the other
back; chin up, shoulders wide, </i>Taaraz said in my head. Finally, with one
last gush of effort, I swung the sword over my head and the blade sliced
through the air in a clean arc, whistling in joy at the momentary freedom from
my hands. For one intense moment, I thought it would hit him.</div>
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It didn’t, obviously.</div>
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Another whistling sound as I heard metal clang against metal
as Taaraz parried my sword with ease. “Awful,” he said grimly, but I swore I
saw an impish grin playing about his lips.</div>
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<br /></div>
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***</div>
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-77100727304278991012015-11-05T04:14:00.000-08:002017-02-04T04:18:16.270-08:00Daughter of the Dark<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The young girl landed like a tiger on the deck of my ship,
crouching, and the force of her impact was miniscule, as if she merely floated
down onto the wooden surface. She straightened up and whipped around to face
another enemy of mine. She was merciless as sliced the blade clean through him.
<i>Hm</i>, I thought, <i>it is no wonder she is the Captain of the Black Pearl,
which just supposed to be the deadliest ship that voyaged the Seven Seas. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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The girl turned to face me and I finally got a clear view of
her face. My, my! They said she was born from the night. <i>No, they were wrong,
</i>I thought, <i>she </i>is <i>Night. </i>Her features hardly resembled the
weather-beaten, sun-burnt, shark-bitten faces of the crew she captained. She
had a perfectly oval face and her high cheek bones struck a beautiful
silhouette against the night sky. Her skin was the warm brown of coffee that
shone pale under the starlight. Her hair – my goodness – it was as though each
strand was a tiny rivulet of black water collected from the darkest waters of
the world while they were flowing, and they still did, past her neck and down
to her waist.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Most beautiful of all, were her eyes. Sheltered beneath -
the surprisingly gentle - arch of her eyebrows were two orbs of sheer black,
gleaming with the fierceness of a bull ready to charge a matador. Framed by
long, curly lashes, when they began to scrutinize me, I was dazzled, as if she
took me to a third space.</div>
</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-51023844268710624522015-11-05T04:12:00.000-08:002017-02-04T04:14:37.707-08:00The Battle of Sweet Spears.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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“Would you now?” Duchess Constance replied, each word a
spear soaked in sweet water. “Of course, my lady, I would love to elaborate on
my theory,” said Lady Calet. In a graceful motion, she picked up the napkin on
her lap, dabbed at the edges of her lips with it and cleared her throat. She began,
“I wouldn’t say I believe in God nor would I say I don’t. However, I believe
that there is a fundamental force that rules as all. This force is omnipresent,
invisible and perhaps even non-existent, but it is vital.” She laced her ring
finger into the handle of the cup and gently raised it to her mouth, sipping
gently, as if she were doing it for just dramatic pause rather than to quench
her thirst for tea. “This force,” she continued, “has a needle and a white thread
and with them, it weaves our destiny, our fate. Oh, but do not think that
therefore, we, as mere humans have no power to change our fates!” She shuddered
as if the thought disgusted her, before resuming, “it hands us needles and
threads too. Blues threads for despondency, yellow ones for felicity, red ones
for anger and green ones for jealousy. Only
the courageous pick these weapons and weave their own paths in the dense forest
of destiny. I call this force, Force. Some call it Brahma. Some call it Christ.
Some call it Allah. Some call it Science.” If Duchess Constance were just a
normal peasant, she would’ve snorted but she couldn’t, because it was very <i>unladylike.
</i>“So you believe in God. I’m afraid your knack of weaving elaborate theories
to present a simple fact isn’t very good,” she retorted. Lady Calt merely
smiled before saying “Please; only an imbecile would believe that there is no
God. An atheist simply means to say that the Earth sprang out of nothing; the
skies sprang out of nothing; the colours sprang out of nothing and humans
sprang out of nothing. I’d rather believe <i>something </i>created us in lieu
of assuming everything simply appeared.” </div>
</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-8595698695845471622015-11-05T03:30:00.000-08:002017-02-04T04:19:49.555-08:00Pare-snips<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello again readers! I know it's been forever and a half since I posted something and I apologize. I've been pretty occupied, what with my IGCSE examinations going on.<br />
<br />
I digress.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I've now started a new label called "Pare-snips", which will primarily consist of extremely short - snips - passages describing a fictional person, setting or conversation. Enjoy!</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-7717873601369772162015-09-14T10:45:00.002-07:002015-09-14T10:45:47.367-07:00The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be rekindled.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Greetings. (Oh, how I love being formal!) If I haven't implied this before, I'd like to directly state it now: I enjoy blogging, immensely so. Blogging is a great platform for me to oust my writing and share it with people who're willing to read a child's (yes, I'm a holy child) whims, fantasies and sudden deep messages. Basically, I blog only the pieces I personally love. No, not everything I write goes into my blog, but only those which have passed harsh scrutiny by my brain will deserve publishing. This particular piece was written in a style entirely foreign to myself as it was written not because I wanted, but because I was socially obliged to write it. Perhaps that is why I have been rather </span>hesitant<span style="font-family: inherit;"> to publish it. However, I have decided to publish it anyway, so enjoy!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The prompt: 'The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled' (yes, that's the prompt. No explanation.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be rekindled.</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">Throughout history, time has always presented us with hoards of geniuses; each considered so in their own epochs in their own fields of specialization. Their minds have always been under the keen eye of jealous scientists while their brains are being stored in jars and slides for meticulous inspection by, perhaps, the less eclectic.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">The mind is an incredibly powerful form of intellect. It is the most autonomous part of the human anatomy, able to function almost independently without the need for a body. The quintessential example of this is course, Stephen Hawking. Despite having being diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis at 21 and promised a great life expectancy of 2 years, the sheer willpower and obstinacy of his mind has extended his life by more than 5 decades AND theorized the previously thought impossible! Can it not be concluded from this that the mind is an independent part of the body capable of achieving infinite impossible feats, even miraculous ones? The mind, in fact, is the only living substance in the entire universe, in the incredible theory of existence, that can travel to the edges of the ever-expanding universe and contemplate and build things never realized before…all while standing in a single place. The mind can be compared to God, or the ever existent force that created humanity: invisible and incomprehensible and yet ubiquitous and staggeringly influential. Conclusively, the mind is something of immense power and capability. So what is the difference between the brain and the mind? “Biology gives you a brain. Life turns it into a mind.” (Jeffrey Eugenides)</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">Young minds are the most inquisitive, eternal flames fueled by their perpetual ‘whys’. They have no rules, no defined boundaries for their capabilities – if you told a child he can lift a mountain, he would actually attempt to! Their endearing questions may be actually unanswerable at times, especially ones such as ‘Why isn’t water coloured? ’Children’s minds’ are unscathed by the pollution of mankind, for man has a natural instinct to kill fires with the gallows of his mind. A criminal execution! Regrettably, this is happening at a frighteningly vast scale before our own eyes. Who is the culprit?</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">The contemporary education system.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">Children of the twenty-first century squander countless hours of their lives on volunteering; working sleepless nights to get straight A’s and studying a myriad of insignificant subjects to get into a ‘good college’. However, does the essence of life really lie on a bunch of meaningless equations, an interminable stream of nonsensical words and that Physics paper that you failed? At one’s deathbed, will one feel repentant, dejected or possibly contemplate suicide because they’re racked with guilt for getting only a 99/100 in that Math paper? Or feel ashamed that they couldn’t get into IIT, an Ivy League or the Mensa? Probably, with the current stance of events.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">Today, children are being stuffed with information they wouldn’t even think about in 10 years from now. Their minds are literally being cut open, filled with trash and stitched back together, with all the information safely tucked somewhere between the nerves and the hypothalamus, only for the stitching to come off loose the following night. Don’t worry though; the persistent punishments, public humiliations and endless debasement will mend the stitches back – except for the fact that the child will be left shattered and inhumane and engender thoughts of vice in the years to come. The mind is literally tended to as a vessel - filled with years’ worth of useless information galore to its brim and yet being crammed with material beyond its capacity. Soon, the substance at the bottom of the vessel begins to rot, wherein begins the eternal rotting of the soul – the child turns to vice and the Seven Deadly Sins.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">Basically, the endearing, perpetual flames of the young mind are mercilessly put off by the grey waters of an adult’s mind. John le Carré once said, “All men are born free: just not for long.” With this, I completely agree, for a child is born with a spark of passion towards life and learning. This spark, if properly kindled and let to rage, can perform magnificent feats and can conquer the earth, heavens and mankind. However, if it were let to rage without proper kindling, it may lead to the downfall of mankind. If dampened, then the sorry child’s life will be of no worth. A forest fire is absolutely necessary to clear a dense overgrowth of trees. Nevertheless, if left to grow on its own, it will greedily consume the entire forest. Noam Chomsky, an American philosopher also concurs: ““The whole educational and professional training system is a very elaborate filter, which just weeds out people who are too independent, and who think for themselves, and who don't know how to be submissive, and so on -- because they're dysfunctional to the institutions.” Basically, the current education systems’ cardinal aim is to locate students who are vapid and devoid of thinking for the self. The young mind can be likened to the caged bird in Maya Angelou’s ‘Caged Bird’ – unhappy and conformed to the social paradigms which are merely the bars of prison. Gandhiji once said, “I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.” This is the sorry state of affairs children unknowingly undergo – the dirtying of their minds by the ‘more intelligent’.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">The only way to eliminate the mass culling is to first understand the mind.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"> Noetics is an interesting branch of metaphysical philosophy concerned with the study of mind as well as intellect. Currently, it is disregarded due to its possible connection with religion and lack of rational explanations for its concepts. Hence, it is studied by only one esoteric institute, Institute of Noetic Sciences. One of their researches is on the human potential – an attempt develop or rekindle human potential when humans can experience an exceptional quality of life filled with happiness, creativity, and fulfillment.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">However, for the remission of all that is happening, we need understand and then accept the idea that the mind, is not a limited vessel to be filled with useless monotony, but a raging fire of passion to be cultivated to prosperity.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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*Ironically enough, we were still treated like vessels after a 30-minute lecture on the topic.</div>
</div>
Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-86372362797977002822015-09-14T10:24:00.000-07:002015-09-14T10:24:03.007-07:00An Epistle of Secrets.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Hey there! Here's a short narrative I did during class. The prompt: 'While I was looking idly through my family's </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">old box of documents, I suddenly cam across an </span>official<span style="font-family: inherit;"> letter.' Imagine yourself as the narrator and continue this story.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">While I was looking idly through my family’s old box
of documents, I suddenly came across an official letter. The envelope was a
faded brown, with spots of darker brown at the edges and the front of it held
three words inscribed in small, neat, calligraphic penmanship: To dear Emily. Funnily
enough, my grand-aunt, who had vanished off the face about a century ago, was
named Emily Mathers too. For some inexplicable reason, these three words, the
longest being only 6-letters long, triggered a strange, visceral feeling deep
inside my 15-year-old mind and unmistakably, I felt an old memory resurface.
For a split second, I glimpsed a gold sheen accompanied by the whistling of
something being drawn and a powerful burst of energy. Strange, I thought.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cautiously, as if this letter bore the power to
shatter the world, I turned it around where a red, official-looking wax seal
was stamped upon the bottom-right corner. The opening of the envelope was
creased at the edges as if someone had opened and closed it one too many times.
Apprehension and curiosity beat in equal measures through my bloodstream as I
tenderly lifted the flap of the envelope, which looked ready to crumble in my
hands as if it were tired to hold onto the contents any longer. Finally, with
my heart slamming against my rib cage, I gently pulled out an ageing epistle.
Suddenly, there was no mistaking now: there was definitely something powerful
with this epistle. I opened the letter and began to read its contents, which
were inscribed in the same neat, cursive penmanship, but as if they were
written in a hurry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> “Dear Emily,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I’m afraid I’m running out of time, dear sister, for God
had seemingly decided I deserve no more time for all I have done. As I write
you this loving epistle, I hear the thumping footsteps of the High King’s
henchmen up the cold steps of the tower where I have spent the last few years
in pathos. These footsteps will perhaps be the last sounds I’ll ever hear, and
the sunrise before me the last alpenglow I’ll ever see. Emily dear, listen to
me well: I have something very important to entrust you with. Time has a cruel
habit of erasing the truth off our scrawny brains and therefore, I’ll put it in
this letter in the ‘words of my fathers’, hoping you will understand it. This
is to be read by you grandchildren only. </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">‘In this lineage will
come a child,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ebony hair, brilliant
blue eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When she begins to rule
despite class and need<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She will realize she
belongs to the royal breed.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Love, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dawn.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I sucked in sharply.
Suddenly, the world began spinning around me and I began to see glimpses;
scenes I’ve never saw before flashed before my eyes as if the writer had
impressed upon the paper all her memories with each blot of ink and reading the
letter set all their secrets free. It was as if someone somewhere else in time
had done all the seeing for me and now there were playing back all the sights
they have witnessed for me through this letter of centuries. A fair maiden,
with hair fashioned from the inkiest of night skies, with a pallor that matched
that of the moon, with two twinkling orbs hanging off the gentle arch of her
eyebrows was smiling at me. Her eyes were such a rich blue that they seemed to
spill out into the eyes of anyone who stared into them – the bright azure would
be the object of envy of even the Greek Naiads. In a split second my mind’s eye
registered the details of the flawless beauty, analyzed her through the
previous documents stored in my memory and came up with an entirely implausible
conclusion. The lady was none other than Queen Christine, the most powerful
Queen of European history. My mind did another quick analysis on the four
sacred words again:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In this lineage will
come a child: me?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ebony hair, brilliant
eyes: how many times have I caught people staring at my black hair and
startlingly azure eyes? (A million).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When she begins to rule
despite class and need: surprisingly, I was just awarded the most ‘just’ leader
in class yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My eyes fell upon the
last nine words and I knew it. The epiphany was irrefutable:</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am of royal blood. I
am Queen Christine II.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3272685254924062787.post-21787409018217422982015-09-14T10:14:00.002-07:002015-09-14T10:14:50.662-07:00A tribute to a teacher.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Hi there! (I'm going to pretend I forgot about the Oath of Friday Posts) Here's an article I wrote for a newspaper for Teacher's Day. Unfortunately, it never got posted but hey, never a bad idea to share it with a couple of friends is it? Behold, for I present to you this annoyingly-under-worded ('strictly stick to the word limit of 200,' said the ad. *sigh*) article about a teacher I felt truly blessed learning from: Ms Pranaya!</i><br />
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William Arthur Ward once said “The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.” Such great teachers are hard to come by, and call it serendipity perhaps, when I had the honour to learn from one great teacher, Ms. Pranaya. All of a sudden, English went from a 'good' subject of mine to an fascinating one. Magic, you say? No, it is the power of inspiration. </div>
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To say I have learnt from her would be an understatement; rather, she gave me the <i>capacity</i> to learn. She taught me to be open-minded to all subjects, and take a trifle more effort to learn the world and its ways. She told me that to excel in English, you need to be passionate about it and yet think of it clinically. I also learnt that the ever-expanding universe is never the limit, that no matter how much you succeed in life, there is always something yonder to follow. However, one of the most cardinal maxims she taught me, one that is still deeply embedded in my mind, is how 'Brevity is the soul of wit.' A simple message, scrawled in red at the end of an unnecessary ten-page long analysis. However, to this very day, I've kept to that as if it were the Holy Book.</div>
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Nivethahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01253537734953743010noreply@blogger.com0