Life Lessons

I realize I have changed.

I'm still changing, even until this very moment. For good or bad, I do not know, but I welcome change with open arms simply because I can take a lesson in all that happens for a reason. I guess I'm still like water; I'm unable to retain my 'shape'. People have come and gone and left footprints, some big, some small, some shallow, some deeper than others. I have learned many things, both the hard and easy way for some things, along the way and would like to share some of what I learned.

I've learned not to be too open with people I have just met. But I do believe in the kindness of strangers. I have learned the hard way that 'love' has a different meaning for different people. And that some people are simply heartless no matter what I do. I learned that despite good intentions, you can never make someone change for their own good, so maybe you should save the effort. I learned to be careful where I put my trust in. I learned that those you perceive as good friends are often not all that good and that sometimes surface friends are more sincere and genuine.

I learned to pour all my heart into what I do; it gives better results. I learned that higher expectations equal bigger disappointments, so I try not to get my hopes too high because I do not like feeling disappointed. However, higher expectations push harder at motivation, so it depends on the circumstance. I learned to give up pride in certain things, because sometimes it just makes things worse. I learned that a little (emphasis on a little) jealousy is healthy, in relationships and in life. Like higher expectations, it pushes at motivation; makes me strive harder to be better and achieve bigger goals; and a little goes a long way to show that you care.

I learned that it is easier to forgive and forget; simply because this gets it off the mind quicker and no time is wasted on anger and needless dwellings on the matter. I have learned in many occasions that displayed anger from someone does not mean hatred. Often it means that they still care, enough to get mad at me and show me that I was wrong.

I learned that sweet words often equal to sweet nothings. They are fulfilling, satisfying at first but they really mean nothing. I learned to be careful with males with sweet words... Actually, scratch that. They are the ones who should be careful with their poetry. I learned how to detect which words are true, which lines are made up.

But most of all, I learned that hopes and dreams are often all that I have. I will not give up on them. So you shouldn't, too.

Honor Your Parents

One of the Ten Commandments listed in the bible is – infuriatingly – to unconditionally honor your parents. God expects that for the sake of virtue, as unworthy of honor a parent can be, his son will manage to delude himself and emulate artificial respect for that sordid creature.

I’ve never had a great relationship with my father. From the pits of my memory, I can recall having always favored my mother greatly over that man. But I also recall ancient days when I still had remote bits of love for him - like I actually enjoyed his presence. Now that love has been replaced by a nauseating feeling of disgust for my kin, and a bitter longing for that man to disappear from my life.

Over the past years, I have grown to feel underappreciated. My overall great academic life, talents in music, and indisputable practicalities for this household has been left unheeded for him. Instead, he criticizes me for what he considers to be fatal imperfections.

You see, I am the complete opposite of him. Unlike him, who is social, aesthetically distasteful, sickeningly inartistic, ancient, mathematically adept, and stingy, I am socially inept, aesthetically tasteful, musical, well-informed, mathematically average, and capable of enjoying luxuries. Somehow, the man expects his son to be a reincarnation of him – for his choleric personality requires everything to agree with him. And so, with my being the complete opposite of his wishes for a son, he expresses his disappointment with endless, unjustified, moronic denigration.

Worse of all, he blatantly displays his severe incompetence as a parent by comparing me with my sister – who he worships as if she is godsend, despite her clearly obvious faults. It’s probably because she’s more like him – musically inept, mathematically-inclined, and interested in sports – than I am. Ironically, even she, who fortunately spends most of her time away from him, can’t stand him.

When treated with endless belittlement, a person would either be saddened or annoyed. The latter applies to me, because among many things, the only trait I share with him is stubbornness. Over the years, he has become more and more of a nuisance – probably because over the years, he sees more and more that I am unlike him. So now, I avoid seeing his gorilla-like face in dread of the itching irritation I experience whenever I argue with him. And whenever I am stuck in an argument with him in the car, I deafen myself with my iPod and my earphones – my lifesavers – and allow him to express his parental ineptitude to himself.

I suppose, like Okonkwo in Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, the man deserves some sympathy. His son never turned out to be the way he quite wanted him to be, and the daughter he is so proud of doesn’t share mutual feelings for him. But I am not sympathetic for that incubus of familial calamity. Desensitized, I have been, by the ceaseless infuriation that man had caused me.

I know he loves me, but like my sister, those feelings aren’t mutual. Oh, the horror.

If only I was witless enough to be tolerant of lunacy, then we could be one happy, harmonious family. How unfortunate it is that I am not; that my honor for him is nonexistent; that I am stuck in this spiraling deathtrap of familial discord.

Why, Girl?

Love, I'm simply asking you to appreciate him.

He mustered every ounce of confidence he has to ask your father's permission to take you away, to fly you to cloud nine. He cares about you. He notices every time you curl your hair, he thinks you look pretty, and you know that. His heart dances when you walk beside him; he wishes every step would take two minutes because he wants as much time with you as he can get. Everything else looks blurry when it's you he sees. You're his focus, his aim. Is it so hard for you to see?

Why, Girl?

Have you ever noticed the glitter in his eyes? It only lights up when you're around, you can't miss it. He smiles all the time, to the extent where it seems humanly impossible. I don't understand how he can be so... full of bliss. I think it's because of you, and because of Him, too. There is never a hint of lachrymose in his days. The Word of God really is his sword. He's strong, I'm sure that you know. His music instrument is huge, but there's always enough strength to carry your things, too. Isn't he lovely? Don't you want to reply his smile?

He loves you.

I'm simply asking you to look at him with an open heart.

:(

No thanks to you, the glitter in his eyes are now nonexistent. His smiles are no longer vibrant. His laughter sounds fake to my ears. You blighted his hopeful heart, Girl. He gave you his all, and you put it all to waste. He's a great athlete, an admirable musician, a creditable pupil, and a committed Christian. He, is in a lot of ways, very much like you. His hand would only be still if you fill in the gaps. He's every girl's dream, but why not yours? Hundreds would kill to walk with him, but he'd kill to have a stroll down the corridor with you. You are one lucky dame, do you really need me to tell you that? I'm a stranger, but I can see everything. These days, his smile hides misery and weakness. You stopped everything altogether. He is Samson and you're his Delilah.

Why, Girl?

I have no right to tell you what to do, but would you please just listen to the world. They want you to be with him. They think you two are a match made in heaven. If you search deep enough inside your heart, I know you'll find it. Your conscious which says, "Oh, why did I turn away?" Trust the world. You are the only girl for him.

His soul is plummeting. Please do raise him up. Someway. Somehow.

I can practically hear him crying everytime I see him smile.

No other person in this world can do what you can do to him. Make his heart billow with joy once more.

Love him.

Please, I beg you.

Oh why, Dear Girl? I would take your place anytime now.

[to those who understand who and what I am talking about - *tears*]

To Inherit Fire

Living fire begets cold, impotent ash. –Things Fall Apart

Earlier in English class we were discussing Part Two of Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, and we got around to talking about whether or not Okonkwo deserved any of our sympathy when his own son turned against him. Most of the class were against Okonkwo, and I suppose their dislike of him is justified. But despite his hotheaded temperament and condescending attitude towards other people, I think Okonkwo is still entitled to a little bit of pity, or, in my personal opinion, a substantial degree of sympathy.

I could never imagine walking in his shoes. If I had been in Okonkwo’s place, how would I have felt? I don’t know what it’s like to be a parent, but I suppose it has a lot to do with placing your hopes on someone else’s shoulders; expecting them to carry it onwards into the future that you can’t be a part of.

Wouldn’t it be heartbreaking, then, if the very person you trusted with your everything shrugged your cherished dreams off his shoulders and let them hit the ground?

Maybe my friends are right, to some extent. Okonkwo has to take some responsibility in causing Nwoye to run away to the Christians. He should never have pressured Nwoye so much. He should never have assumed that Nwoye wanted the same things as he had as a young man. Maybe despite knowing Nwoye wanted different things, Okonkwo was doing all he could to give Nwoye the best out of the life he knew. Okonkwo is a father, after all, and perhaps—even if we’re not willing to acknowledge it—he, like our parents, knows what it’s like to not want to follow your father’s footsteps; your mother’s footsteps. Perhaps when our parents were like us they had decided never to follow someone else’s decisions, and ended up making choices they never thought they’d agree to; walking down paths they’d hoped to avoid while still dreaming that they would end up somewhere different.

I think we sympathize with Nwoye more easily because most of us know what it’s like to fall under the pressure of someone else’s expectations. We readily back him in his decision to tear away from his father’s ways because some part of us has already known what it’s like to want the same thing. If I had been in his position I would have done the same—I suppose I would have at least contemplated running away.

Let’s imagine it this way; Okonkwo’s modern day equivalent would be a prominent bussinessman with influence left and right in a sprawling metropolis—a highly successful public figure whose life is characterized by outstanding achievements in an Ivy League university and an offer to join a prestigious company upon finishing his second year. It is hard enough to imagine being a daughter to such a man—but to be a son who is expected to continue the legacy? In my head I imagine Atlas with the world on his shoulders, passing it on to a nervous, slippery-fingered, scrawny teen who knows the world will tumble and crash out of his hold.

Then again, isn’t that just what we are expected to do?

In an episode of Heroes, Peter Petrelli comments that “...we’re just cheap knockoffs of our fathers.” For me personally, it feels like a punch to the gut. It hurts more than a little to know that no matter what we do we’ll still be compared to our parents. That we won’t have any trace of things that people thought would still be imprinted in us. That we’ll probably never be good enough to satisfy what people expect. In this sense, I sympathize with Nwoye.

Is it any wonder then that we want to break away from the paths our parents have set out for us? Isn’t it plausible to think that we attempt to build paths other than someone else’s because we’re scared of being less than what they were? I don’t ever want to be known as ash remaining from someone else’s fire.

I don’t want to grow up chasing my father’s shadows and pursuing my mother’s victories and mistakes. I don’t want to destroy what they worked so hard to build. I don’t want to be the one responsible for the look in their faces when they find their life-long struggles are for naught.

Do you still think Okonkwo deserves no sympathy?

A part of me wants to exclaim that I could never forgive Nwoye for tearing down what Okonkwo had given his all to build. I could never forgive Nwoye for taking the dreams Okonkwo had carried with him from childhood to fatherhood—the dreams he had kept alive by pouring out his sweat, blood, and tears for—and allowing them crash and burn. I could never forgive Nwoye for insinuating that Okonkwo’s lifelong struggles held no importance, by walking out on everything his father worked for.

If Okonkwo held true to the hotheaded and violent nature we have associated him with, I would have expected him to take his machete and separate Nwoye’s head from his body. Doesn’t that sound like something he would do?

But people like me who have no idea what it’s like to be a father or a mother will never understand what it is that makes them love their children so much. I may never understand why Okonkwo still allowed Nwoye to pursue his own choices; why Okonkwo would allow Nwoye to build a new life and support dreams of his own when Okonkwo’s hopes had been sullied and broken beyond repair by his son’s betrayal.

I may never understand how Okonkwo can retain love for a traitor. But at least I can imagine him thinking about Nwoye and sighing at the fire. Perhaps at that moment some semblance of weakness crossed his features. Perhaps at that moment we would be able to see the face of a broken old man, mourning the death of his wasted, uncontinued dreams; still harboring an amazing, undying love for the boy who blew out the fire and left behind only ash.

It's Not You, It's Me

You should know it is a huge lie when a person says that line to you. Whether or not it be in a romantic relationship or a brotherly one; it is You. It is Your fault. You ruined it. At least that is what they feel.

That other person is just trying to be nice. They are rejecting You, but they don't want to hurt Your feelings. But their attempt is useless; You're already hurt. They are blaming You, but they are smart enough to rearrange the words instead of just blurting their heart out. To make it sound less accusative. You know better; it is Your fault.

Take a pair of young lovers as an example.

It didn't take long for him to realize she's the one he's been looking for. Her hair more beautiful than Snow White's, the princess he's been measuring every girl against. She, too, was attracted to him. The chemistry was obvious.

It lasted a little more over a year.

"Who is it?" she asked.
"No one, it's not about that," he told the truth.
"Do you not love me anymore?" her eyes filled with waves of tears.
"It's not that I don't love you anymore, Baby. It's..."
"What did I do wrong, Alex?" the wave crashes.
"It's not you, it's me."
"I don't understand."
"You're too good for me, Case."

Liars.

You're not good enough is really what he meant, and she knows it, she's just being oblivious. He thought she was perfect, but perfection can get weary over time. Discontentment. He now wants something better. He now wants a Cinderella, because he knows Cinderella has always been the leader of the whole Princess Clan. He now feels Snow White is not as popular or pretty as the other princesses. But that's okay, right? It's only high school. 

What about marriage. You can't say it's only marriage in a marriage like it's of no importance. It's your life and you can't leave it at that; you have to delve the problem. You learn from experience so you know what to say the next time someone says those fake words.

Husband: It's not working.
Wife: Try to tell your kids that.
Husband: My kids? They're your kids, too.
Wife: You're the one who said it's not working.
Husband: Well, who's fault is it?
Wife: Oh, so now you're blaming me?!
Husband: I never said that.
Wife: But you might as well shout it out. I'm sorry I ruined our marriage.
Husband: It's not you, it's me.
Wife: Yeah, it is you.

I have no idea whose side I am taking here. The Say-er or the Say-ee. But anyhow, I want you readers to learn something: It is you, not me. Or you can just save time and agree with this preposterous line.

I've no idea why I'm discussing this so-not-important topic. It's nothing personal. I'm just... I
don't get why people lie when they can tell the truth. I, for the record, am brutal. I would never use this line to break up with someone. I would just say, "I don't like you anymore." 

:)

All conversation is purely fictional.

[late post due to BAD internet connection. I'm sorry.]  

Love Me Money

"I'm not an actor, I'm not a star.
I don't even have my own car.
But I'm hoping so much you'll stay;
that you would love me anyway."
- Michael Learns To Rock

Can you believe this? Michael Learns To Rock dares to write such absurd lyrics. Darling... YOU DON'T HAVE A CAR, why in the world would I want to be with YOU??? We live on earth, sweetheart. I have no time for broke-ass guys like you. Boy, PLEASE!

I'm just kidding! Don't get me wrong, but men these days should be ready to offer the ladies something more than just love. Love is not enough, and I'm not being materialistic.

Is LOVE relevant when you can't even buy your baby milk?
Is LOVE useful when your wife has to go to the neighbor for sugar?

Go ahead and love, but don't forget to live.

Love is an overused term. Get a diamond ring, and it better not cost 25 cents.

The Key To My Heart

by: Karina Negara

Pass it on.
They key to my heart.
You have it in your hands,
But you don’t deserve it anymore.
You never did.

You have the whole package.
My heart,
And everything in it.
I want it back, Love.
I want it back full.
Because you stole it.
My heart,
And everything inside.

Loving you silently used to be fine.
You look at me,
I look at you…
Now your eyes are stuck
To the diamond of your heart.
She.

Loving you silently wasn’t much of a mess.
I could be here
And you right there.
I loved you endlessly,
But you never care.
That’s where it hurts.
That’s where I’m muddled.

So, pass it on.
The Key to My Heart.
It doesn’t belong to you,
I won’t let you unlock this soul.

With all my heart.
That’s how much I loved you.
But the pain has gone too deep,
‘Cos I cried too much in sleep.
I’m losing it.
I’m throwing it away.

Slowly we drift apart,
I grow out of love soon enough.
Give it back, Dear.
Give me back my most prized possession.

Pass it on.
The key to my heart.
Let someone else have it.
Let someone else love me,
With all of his heart.
For who I am,
And for who I am not.
I’m sorry I loved you.

*not to be graded, but you can comment :)