She writes her way into the night, void of music, save for the continual tapping sound of her fingertips against the keys on her computer. The tap is so soothing when the setting is right, and statistically sad when she has a sane source not, to turn toward for inspiration.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Turn off
As interesting and riveting the article might be, April honestly loses all or any interest in reading it once she notices the lack of grammar, or how even general grammar is treated badly. Its like watching a molesting footage live.
---
#writerproblems #writer #books #literature
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Kit Kat
Oh but softly enfold my fingers the chocolat,
while guiding it upward to my lips, on whose
texture is the delight found yet softer, though
softer still is the silky mood I fall upon when
the play of tongue and teeth work upon
breaking down the brown bars.
---
#poetic #feels #literature
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Physical Fix
April Twelving started out with reading Jules Verne novels and though I've tried other genres in the world of books, I have remained faithful to the classical novels. Call me old fashioned but there is much more to learn from the classical category. Be it the delicacy of notions, languages or how they lived, you get to have your very own window that overlooks the finest of your unhindered imagination of putting up a vivid mental sketch of how the world in which the novel was conceptualized was. Also, you get to know more about history and its different cadences so wonderfully and actually be able to digest it; your high school or elementary history text book would have never helped you to come to this realm of understanding with proper realization of the facts.
Enough of this cross track riff raff. What I mean to say is that novels have taught me so much and have been pivotal to my life so far. I end up realizing that many things that have happened to me in life is just exactly or almost the same of how some character in this book I had read was. There are also those instances where some happenings from this book I had read show a much similar stance of what I am going through. But, these might happen to all readers, no doubt about that. But the impact of what that piece of reading brought upon the reader is what is always different, and important.
I fell in love with the way Thomas Cromwell was portrayed in C J Sansom's Dissolution and then with two of Hilary Mantel's works that have been released so far, both winning prestigious prizes and acclaim everywhere. Miss Mantel's work is so excellently profound that each word gives out the feel of poetry being read out from the poet's lips in the most natural fashion. I remember a point from either of the Mantel novels that George Boleyn wanted to divorce his wife because he never felt like doing his deed toward her, and also another stately woman complaining to the king outwardly that she wanted to split from her husband citing that in all their days of holy union, he had never done his duty toward her. Why? That is easy to understand as soon as you read that in the novel: she felt utterly neglected.
Not just Miss Mantel's work has made me constantly recall this--spouses feeling utterly neglected and wanting to eventually separate because the 'holy' deed toward them wasn't done--but there have been many other books that have some characters swirling around this dispute. Its just that the way it was written out in Miss Mantel's book was so delicately true to life that I always recall it.
I have been recalling those scenes from the book for many a times these last few months. The reason is quite obvious if the last two paragraphs made perfect sense to the reader. Today was the final straw as it is put, for me to put down my feet over that negligence and for once make myself heard, even if not that clearly. The crux is that though I have understood with a serious mien when I have read that lack of physical love takes huge tolls on relationships, I only truly comprehend that now as I am a 'victim' of that.
No matter how clearly I put the message across, there was nothing echoing from the other side as a sign of love, and assurance. There wasn't anything comforting but feigning (or not) ignorance. It actually hurts, and kills your personal sunshine on the inside, and the world is just winter solstice all over.
No reconciliation but constant arguments that are pointless to what I'm trying to reach across is terrible. Such sentences do make me sound like the bad guy. But this 'bad guy' here is hurt deep down, and you just don't want to see or understand that.
Finale: 'Just saying, hon.......you gave up long ago' is what I get as a reply.
Well, the context back then was ENTIRELY different and positively compelling me to give up. Using that context which is SO unrelated to the current context is just proof of how much you understand my pain. Maybe you just want me to give up on you wholly.
I hate what I feel, and even despise even more what I told you. But there are things that must be communicated for the better or worse. And I did that. But you never reached out to me, never. I write this with tears threatening to spill down my already tear soiled face. You wouldn't know that. You would only believe that I am just another biatch in the block. But go ahead.
Have it your way.
Ich bin liebe anyway.
Enough of this cross track riff raff. What I mean to say is that novels have taught me so much and have been pivotal to my life so far. I end up realizing that many things that have happened to me in life is just exactly or almost the same of how some character in this book I had read was. There are also those instances where some happenings from this book I had read show a much similar stance of what I am going through. But, these might happen to all readers, no doubt about that. But the impact of what that piece of reading brought upon the reader is what is always different, and important.
I fell in love with the way Thomas Cromwell was portrayed in C J Sansom's Dissolution and then with two of Hilary Mantel's works that have been released so far, both winning prestigious prizes and acclaim everywhere. Miss Mantel's work is so excellently profound that each word gives out the feel of poetry being read out from the poet's lips in the most natural fashion. I remember a point from either of the Mantel novels that George Boleyn wanted to divorce his wife because he never felt like doing his deed toward her, and also another stately woman complaining to the king outwardly that she wanted to split from her husband citing that in all their days of holy union, he had never done his duty toward her. Why? That is easy to understand as soon as you read that in the novel: she felt utterly neglected.
Not just Miss Mantel's work has made me constantly recall this--spouses feeling utterly neglected and wanting to eventually separate because the 'holy' deed toward them wasn't done--but there have been many other books that have some characters swirling around this dispute. Its just that the way it was written out in Miss Mantel's book was so delicately true to life that I always recall it.
I have been recalling those scenes from the book for many a times these last few months. The reason is quite obvious if the last two paragraphs made perfect sense to the reader. Today was the final straw as it is put, for me to put down my feet over that negligence and for once make myself heard, even if not that clearly. The crux is that though I have understood with a serious mien when I have read that lack of physical love takes huge tolls on relationships, I only truly comprehend that now as I am a 'victim' of that.
No matter how clearly I put the message across, there was nothing echoing from the other side as a sign of love, and assurance. There wasn't anything comforting but feigning (or not) ignorance. It actually hurts, and kills your personal sunshine on the inside, and the world is just winter solstice all over.
No reconciliation but constant arguments that are pointless to what I'm trying to reach across is terrible. Such sentences do make me sound like the bad guy. But this 'bad guy' here is hurt deep down, and you just don't want to see or understand that.
Finale: 'Just saying, hon.......you gave up long ago' is what I get as a reply.
Well, the context back then was ENTIRELY different and positively compelling me to give up. Using that context which is SO unrelated to the current context is just proof of how much you understand my pain. Maybe you just want me to give up on you wholly.
I hate what I feel, and even despise even more what I told you. But there are things that must be communicated for the better or worse. And I did that. But you never reached out to me, never. I write this with tears threatening to spill down my already tear soiled face. You wouldn't know that. You would only believe that I am just another biatch in the block. But go ahead.
Have it your way.
Ich bin liebe anyway.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
日本語先生からの吸気な電話。
先月まで行ってた日本語学校の先生から今、三十分くらいかかった電話がありました。日本語能力試験三級レベルのクラスは去年の十一月まで行われていた；私はそのクラスに行っていた。十二月の一日に三級試験を受けて、後二級クラスも同じ日本語学校でやろうと思っていた。けど、学校の二級クラスは毎週の土曜日だけに行われますから、私にとってダメ。土曜日も大学があるから。Bangaloreにいる他の日本語学校に行われる二級クラスを調べて見たら、それもダメだった：二級勉強をちゃんと教える学校は私行っていた学校だけだから。ピンチだった、今もピンチ中。この間に日本政府文部科学書奨学金にも不合格して、気持ち悪くて、モチベショんが無くなっちゃった。先生から今の電話はすごかったし、先生は『クラス何かのことあなたはあまり気にしなくて、心配かけなくていい。私はあなたの能力に信じてます、あなたは自分で集中して日本語勉強すればいい。問題と質問があったら私にお連絡してね。』と言った。私はすっごく嬉しい！
今月の１６日～２２日まで大学試験。その後、すBangalore Nihongo Kyoshikai Bnkに行って、図書館のメンバーシップしようと思ってます。そうすれば、Bangalore大学の外国語部の図書館の本を使うことになると思います。
まあ、こんな長いものになったな～これ＾。＾ピンチ中に先生からこんな吸気な話は私をちょっとリラックスして、新しいチャレンジを受けるためにさぽ一トしてます！！
April Twelving。
今月の１６日～２２日まで大学試験。その後、すBangalore Nihongo Kyoshikai Bnkに行って、図書館のメンバーシップしようと思ってます。そうすれば、Bangalore大学の外国語部の図書館の本を使うことになると思います。
まあ、こんな長いものになったな～これ＾。＾ピンチ中に先生からこんな吸気な話は私をちょっとリラックスして、新しいチャレンジを受けるためにさぽ一トしてます！！
April Twelving。
Thursday, November 28, 2013
BLOSSOMS POETRY WRITING CONTEST 2013: My Dream.
April had forayed into trying her hand at poetry since elementary school. But of late with her everyday schedule being busy, she has had nothing inspiring to write about and has been away from the scene of poetry except for when it is time for a poetry contest, or a literary competition: not that there were many of those.
She was part of exactly two poetry writing contests in the past two years, both of which were at her Pre University College. She always made sure to archive the poems she wrote for the contests, by carrying them back home on the drafting paper. This year being her first at University, she tried her hand at writing poetry during the Inter Deanery contest.
-----------------------------------
Theme: My Dream
Limit: a maximum of thirty lines.
1. Not defined on time,
Is this offshore country.
Be free to bet every dime--
For landing here is no wizardry.
It is where everything can rhyme,
On a loop with an endless spree, so free.
2. Not required is any labor,
So fret not, and smile, Sonny.
Take it all in--live it--savour!
No peril nor mayhem awaits you on this journey.
Ain't sure if it does you twice the same favour;
As it shall slip, like from your hand does money.
3. So sour the living cream?
No, darling, do not weep.
It could trap that eternal scream,
Put it asleep, maybe while counting sheep.
Hello, and welcome to my dream,
With the promise of freedom in every leap.
4. With enticing visions both dull and bright,
As dazzling as a marvel to behold,
So beautiful is this sight
Where I watch such mysterious unfold!
I gaze till I find my chest to be tight
Till it fills up with stories untold.
5. My hate for it is so very few,
For it is but such a great ploy;
It delivers me from my feelings so blue,
And gives me very much joy.
So when I dream, I bid adieu,
To all the world so coy.
-----------------------------------
Signing off,
April Twelving.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Life goes on...
April has many a time, wanted to stop what she's occupied with, and put down her thoughts to writing. But feh, if only she were that committed to writing.
Times have changed, new things have taken place, plenty of new experiences later, April is now of the decision to slowly fall into the author's pattern; at least of what she used to be before.
She shall take up writing with a bright, sharper perspective from now. As before, April shall not write of mundane everyday things, but try to channel everything toward a poetical sense.
She hopes she'll do her best.
:-)
Signing off!
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