Chaotic

A photo posted by samnig (@samuealnigussie) on Nov 2, 2016 at 9:34pm PDT

 

Chaotic is her heart as her snippets roam around your mind

Chaotic as art can be in its unending peak

Chaotic as the world of politics and war

Chaotic as her mind of strings

So don’t. Do not come near. Do not come close to her. You will just get your white shirt tainted. And you sure do not want that. Come but not too close. Come but not too near. As she is poison to your lungs and thorn to your throat. Just don’t. She is chaos. She is dangerous. She is chaotic.

Come close and you shall drown. Come close and you shall be hurt. Leave. Just leave. You do not want chaos in your life. Leave her be. Let her go in her own ways and let her do her thing. Do not intervene as she will enter you deeply and leave you scarred. So don’t. You will just regret it.

Chaotic is her heart as her snippets go hand in hand with hell.

Chaotic is her mind as strings goes messy inside her brain.

The Daily Post and some of the interesting posts around the globe…

toothless smile is the best!

be not chaotic, just simple chaos.

bacon, banter, and coffee is chaotic yet perfect.

what’s wrong with a little chaos? it is beautiful….

 

QOTD

You either get bitter or you get better. It’s that simple. You either take what life has dealt to you and allow it to make you a better person, or you allow it to tear you down. The choice does not belong to fate, it belongs to you.’

by John Shipp

Weekend Rambling

How are you guys doing lately? My heart’s been up and down, inhaling love, paint, and stress all at the same time but all is good. At least I got a day like today, to rest and do whatever.

But…here goes some rambling on my thoughts lately.

I’m thinking of going back to Zumba. I don’t know why. I know am fat and reducing through Zumba is great but I guess that isn’t my main purpose. I miss the thrill, the instructors kuya Marcus and Adrian. I miss the atmosphere, the sweat, the heat, the music, the moves, everything about it. I think I’ll visit them today.

There’s a mini event actually that will be held today. It’s a 4D Challenge in a coffee shop. Baguio Military Plamo Starters Club is the group that organized the event. Well, good luck to participants!

Oh oh! Leaving you guys with some photos that made my day so far…

the streets of Hawaii….

 

can’t wait to play cardfights! 

 

Missing Stars

 

 

Blue is the hands of a man who draws
Blue like the sky at an empty night

If only the stars were there

Present in his blue colored palms

But they aren’t

So there isn’t much to say

To the man who draws with his blue hands

If only the stars were there

Then maybe we’d talk for a thousand years

But then it is not possible

Because the stars aren’t in his blue colored palms

So to the blue man who draws

I shall say good night

In an empty shell

Just because

The stars aren’t there…

Question of the Day

When you learn about what others are going through, you become too affected that you want to help in any ways you can…

“Why are you so eager to help?” he asked. ” I’m not asking for it,” he said. My world stopped then. “Cause it’s me. Cause I am J.” I said back. But in my head, I wondered then. ‘ Why tell me your problem in the first place? If you do not need help?’ I thought. My world is slowly crushing. He looks at me with disgust for trying to help him.

Is this how humans are? Is this how they think, naturally? What do the people I helped before think of me then? What have been their thoughts when I did help them?

Do you think I overdo things? Is this overreacting of me?

Travel Rambling

Why do people travel,I wonder. Why do you travel? Why do people go far away from their homes and explore the world? I want to know.

Because I haven’t traveled that far. I haven’t seen the world yet. And just thinking about it excites me in the highest level that I can handle. I have been imagining, the life of a traveler. How does it feel to move from one place to another? From riding the bus or train or even an airplane. From walking the streets of Paris or stepping on the roads of Amsterdam. From eating french bread to roaming around like a locale. Ahh, the foreign air, the foreign soil.

I have traveled to Saudi, yes. Saudi Arabia. When I was too young to remember things. When I was too young to explore on my own. I can only remember bits and bits of pieces of those memories when I see a photo of me. I do remember those little stones outside my dad’s office building that I throw in the air and shout “yay! Rain!” though. I also remember that time when I put a hair cap on and a band aid on my chin then took a photo of me on a chair. So much memories that are only shared through mom and dad’s stories. Everything that I have been doing when I was a kid in that foreign land was funny. Like that time when I locked mom’s co-worker out the terrace of their quarters, in a towel. Mom got worried to why her co-worker hasn’t checked in at work yet and she went back to the quarters to check. She opened the terrace and her workmate was crying and sobbing because of the heat. Then that time that I got locked inside the clinic’s (or hospital?) storage room with the large thick metal doors. The whole staff with my mom assisted a 2-year old Jen to open it from the inside. Mom was instructing me to use my left hand, which I use to draw and turn some knobs around. It took an hour or two before I was finally out and they were all sweating. Haha. That, and much more.

But what I want to do now, is to travel on my own. You know, packing a luggage of a week’s worth of clothes and head out to board an airplane on my own. To be crazy and go wild on a foreign land, write a novel, and drink different wines and liquor. Oh, add scale modeler hunting and rare kits hauling to that! Yeah, I am now a certified scale modeler. Haha.

“Break the glass please, and free us from all these damned rules,from needing to find an explanation for everything, from doing only what others approve of.”

~ Paulo Coelho, By The River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

Hyperbole

*the following text is a story based from a person's point of view, her mini life event.


I love you.

That is a hyperbole. An exaggeration of sorts. Because if it isn’t then it would mean so much more. Because if it isn’t then it would be chaos. If it isn’t then the world would see the heart of a woman in pain and we both know that we do not want that. Because you want to keep it to yourself, because you keep so much from the universe. And I do not want that either. Because everything will fall apart and the stage will burn. And if it burns the audience would leave. Don’t leave. Even if it is just a hyperbole. Let’s give them a show that they will never forget. Let us give them the greatest story ever told and eradicate all cliches of The Normal Life.

I love you. But that is a hyperbole. Do not forget that.

The Daily Post and some faves.

emotions that matter to me but not to anyone else.

that donut waiting is exhausting! ahaha.

okay, lost property. I am now your number one fan! haha.

Eventually

“Everyone parts with everything eventually, m’dear.”~Mr. Time to Alice

So I shall part with myself, eventually. So I shall part with the truth, eventually. So I shall part with the people that I have now, eventually. So I shall part with the beauty of fantasy and imagination, eventually.

But let me enjoy these moments. Let me savor these memories tht I shall part with, eventually. Let me be the chaos of this earth. Let me be the mess that people despises. Becuase eventually, I shall part with everything. So it would not really matter anyways.

There’s a disturbance in the air, scattered on the streets, walking down the aisles of hell. Everything is not right, everything that will part with you, eventually.

Hot Showers, Papers, Romance

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Oh how I love hot showers! The water running down my face, my body, my very being. There’s something in it that makes me want to stay in it a little longer. Once it touches my face, I go some place else, somewhere quiet, where all I can hear are droplets from steam, from the heat of the water that runs down on me. Mixed emotions, heavy feelings. What do I get for being me in these little moments of hot showers? 15 minutes of closed doors to reality, 15 minutes of silence, 15 minutes of me.

Ink on paper, pencil marks on paper, charcoal on paper. I try to draw. I cannot finish anything. I try to draw, my hands shake. I palpitate. This coffee addiction is getting to me. But who cares? As long as I have paper on my lap and pens and pencils to waste. The world is a better place with me and my papers on stock.

Romance. “You are a pure romantic,” they say. “You’re a hopeless romantic,” they say. Oh well, I who loves “Love” itself could be labeled as such. And with romance comes the bitter fights, the raging hearts, the flaming waves of verbal pain. Yes, I. Who avoids arguments. Who hates violence of any kind. Who cries with every hurtful word. I cannot handle romance itself as it drifts away from the picture of fantasy and that reality takes place. Yes I romance. Yes I do everything for the sake of experiencing things. But I guess I have become rusty on it that it does not work anymore. I have lost my appetite for understanding and that I am now a doll inside out.

Now tell me what to do, tell me what to say. I can only obey you now. Cause I have lost interest in exploring things. And if you don’t, I might lead myself nowhere but destruction. “You have firm decisions,” they say. Oh yes, that is why I have been so uncertain lately, afraid to decide because once I have decided, I cannot go back to it. I don’t really depend on anyone. I don’t really listen to anyone. Because I am stubborn as a bull. Because I want to annoy people, let myself get hurt, and see who’ll stay after the storm. That is me, always testing. Always trusting.