Another 32 Trivia of Me

For the 6 months I didn't contentized this blog, I’ve been busy; lazy; depressed; suppressive on self-expression. Whatever you might have seen that! Most of the times, God knows, for some reasons, I’d like to keep things to myself. Somehow, I feel bad about that, and for that, I apologize, sincerely, for those who, once in a while, come to check if I have presented up another drama.

Whatever comes to your mind, I’m sorry, and we’re here again. So, here it is: a new article for this blog after a long silence.

I once, on this blog, wrote some facts about me. Those 51 things some of you might have found interesting though some of which are probably, to some, weird. Thank you for your good read. For those of you who haven’t gone through those, you can read it here, before going through another 32 pieces below.

1. I still love reading, and by some lucks, have switched from reading websites to reading books though books are quite more tedious and require more attentions in reading. I still read articles on some websites, though.
2. Of all the movies I’ve watched, I’ve enjoyed them to a good level. I’m still having this temptation to write a review.
3. The first abroad country I’ve been to is China. It was early of this year I went there. Had a very great time there!
4. I don’t watch too much TV these days. I spend time with myself more.
5. The two authors that are dominant in my reading so far are best-selling Robert Kiyosaki (I’m reading a book of his and it’s his third book I’m reading) and Nicholas Spark, whose novel The Best of Me I’ve finished the other week.
6. I collect name cards and use them as bookmarks. Weird? Convenient, that way.  

Raksa's Rain?

I have been hard on myself since then. Seasonal wind came and went and, as days turned into nights and the cycle repeated itself, I didn’t remember, and still don’t, feeling either the heat, warmth or coldness the weather have brought along, or have changed. Not because I have regarded the weather as a trivial thing, but, maybe, my brain has been occupied and, for some weirdly good reasons, I don’t see it an advantage wasting my human emotions with the weather.

Not for today, yet! When the weather comes so harshly, to a degree that I couldn’t help ignore it. The sky has been rigid dark, absurdly, all days long since the morning—since my eyes caught sight of it. And not after a minute I have decided to cold-heartedly and effortfully drag myself out of bed and flopped into washing room, the rain, which fell boisterously last night, starts to pour once again. The washing room is a tiny downstairs, for-all room with a traditional set of shower, considered obsolete by some, a toilet tub, a half-watered bucket which had a water-cup floating on it, a shelf, under a mirror, filled with two toothbrushes (both are mine; I’d like to keep, for a personal reason, the old one there), a long toothpaste box which is thin at the tail and a piece of soap that was eroding days after days. Into the mirror, I saw myself: flesh that covers my body, my beardy face that is embedded with thin blacky shadow—well, if you look closely—and, I hate to mention this, many other things on my body; not to mention the black spot on my lower lip, which people whom I know intimately tease to be a sign of me being good at, amongst other things, talking and cursing, and that is so contradict to the reality in which a simple me doesn’t talk so much—at least since then.  

A Lost Soul Turns Stronger!

I heard the news, shocked.

I thought about that, doleful.

I thought more, sorrowful.

I tapped myself, bewildered.

I sat there, blurred.

I closed my eyes, darker.

I shut myself, failing.

I repeated, lingering.

I turned, wishing.

I felt myself, sickening

I rivaled the voice, fragile.

I wanted to jump, senseless.

I tried and pushed, stuffier.

I cried a bit, excruciating.

I went on, devastated.

I paused, gallant-er.

I dried the eyes, determined.

I drained the voice, better.

I opened the eyes, lighter.

I stood up, brighter and aliver.

I promised myself, stronger.

photo credits: prakashghai.blogspot.com

A Loser under the Rain Rose Again—and Better!

The sun was high in the sky after it felt silently in itself that the light it had brimmed out, till the current phase of the day, suffice to dry the wet, probably watered and muddy, land—streets— which were soaked by the last night rain that poured outrageously and almost non-stoppedly. Luckily, for some, as they might have reasoned to themselves, there were sunlight, for this Sunday, to dry out—or, dehydrate—their washed and draped cloth. This self-imposed reason propelled them to get up from their bed, leaving behind the laziness inside their body that weaken their mind, to collect their cloth which had been worn, and stained with sweat and smells, throughout their weekdays and bring them, for another week, to laundry—a task which some eased with a clothing-washing machine and which some others had to complete using their mere hands and wooden-covered brush—and with, specifically for some others, thin plastic gloves.

The reason, despite its logicality, didn’t make it ways into Visoth’s head whose body and mind were still peacefully resting, in his messy bedroom, on his dust-filled bed where, atop, a few Sandra Brown’s novels—The Crush, Smoke Screen, Fat Tuesday—were flaunting tirelessly for a gentle clutch and an ardent read. Above-naked as the reeking striped blanket had been rolled away to a corner of the bed, Visoth, who was as frivolous as other aimless grown-ups, was still harboring a cute peaceful slumber till this sun-high-on-the-sky time on a Sunday—a kind of slumber which most teenager-turn-adults, like Visoth, would enjoyed and be proud of.

Life As I'm Facing And Hearing It

Taylor "not-so" Swift: I don't know about you but I'm feeling twenty-two and everything will be alright. 

Me: I don't know about you either and I'm twenty-more-than-that but everything aren't alright. Prettily, life is f-up manily here and everything is at its own best in boisterous mess.

John Wade, a famed film producer, said: Life is hard. It is even harder if you're stupid. 

Acclaimed author Jodi Picoult: Hold on strong and endure hard; life is one hard difficult test; you'll pass the test if you keep on clinging. 

Legendary Mark Twain: If all my words don’t seem to motivate you, 21-century adult, maybe you should try “marriage”, which would, for one brave turn, end all these hard-time adulty mess-up. Plus, your parents are doubting too!

My crush―if any: I’m sorry to hear about this hard time. I agree with Uncle Mark Twain. That's right; it's me right there and here for the whole time. I think about you, secretly, days and nights, which, when the factual reality hits me gently in face, crushes my heart crucifyingly―you never know how brutally retaliating that is. Sometimes, you know, I noon-fantasize that you and I are holding hand, walking together, fighting despite all the hardships cursed upon us two. You know, my love―I’m sorry if you’re mad at me addressing you so―we could do this, right? Give us a chance? I don’t want to move on, me-ly, with you as a good learning lesson. I'm just wishing the love which, by any miraculous chances, you may share could take my breath away just as when I was fantasizing about you and I being intimately in love. You know, for the current time, I’ll always be there for you, and, dearingly, I’m insanely in crush on you.