*blink*

in the light of the tilted orange lampshade,
with the half broken bulb,
the words of the book
stared dimly at me.
my eyes were swimming
in the blurred,
articifial twilight.
my brain kept rejecting
the words, which tried
forcing their entry:
my sleepy mind
the faithful sentry.

a night lamp is just not the way
to prepare for these tests every single day.

statement of purpose

thst's what i'm supposed to be working on, the operative word being obvious. it's simplistic to assume that a 500 word essay can ever hope to contain the desultory ambitions of this confused being. sometimes i wish i could be engaged in activity that's more "hands-on"...not that scholars are remote analysts or distanced aesthetes. it's just that i'm still looking for a calling to respond to, and narrowing down my choices has ALWAYS been the hardest part, ever since i had to choose my subjects for my O levels. i sometimes can't help but feel that i am exceedingly different from most people my age...with the exception of some friends...was it my school, or my family or what? am i over-wary, are my foot steps too cautious? sometimes i read the blogs of others, and more often than not, they invariably strike me as more complex, deeper, their posts more evocative, somehow more experienced. but i have no regrets...it's just so much easier being me...atleast for me...does the world in general has a prediliction for complexity, which is sometimes a synonym for pretension.
and it's not that i lie in a pearly sea shell...i've been through a vast number of hardships which life has intermittently belted out. but so what?