Why do people succumb to anger?
It feels so easy to slip into its grasp. But at the same time, from a distance, it looks quite stupid. Aren't we overreacting? What's the point of hitting one another, yelling at one another, going to war with one another? Yet when are up close, immersed in anger, we feel nothing but blissful rage, if that makes sense. Sweet revenge empowers us. Makes us feel as if we are at the top of the world. Maybe it is a survival mechanism. But I sure wish it weren't.
|
|
C'est moi!
That's right. It's me! Call me a weirdo, a freak, I don't care. I'm La Fille en Verte. xD This blog is where you can find odd blurbs and snippets about moi's life in the zone. There are no guarantees that I'll blog a lot, but I will try to blog once a week? Happy? You better be 'cause I am.
Merry Christmas! I don't celebrate Christmas, but my family does have its sentiments: namely spend an hour putting up a 20 year old hunk of shedding plastic which is supposed to be a tree. Fun? I think not. But I did once upon a time. I guess it's better to do chores like washing dishes (ugh) and all with a willing mind.
I started reading Kahlil Gibran - a Lebanese author. Here's one of my favorite poems by him.
Song of The Flower
I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.
At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.
The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.
As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.
I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.
I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.
But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.
This guy is awesome! He wrote some short story like things, but they are all sad stories about the oppressed. I'd say his poems are more thought stimulating.
Well, got to eat lunch now... Upma yum. I <3 Indian food.
Things I'm grateful for (I stole from you Pilsbury, hope you don't mind)
-Indian food
-Cal Skate
-Ferrero Rocher hazelnut chocolate
-poetry
-funfunfunathome
|
|
|
C'est moi!
That's right. It's me! Call me a weirdo, a freak, I don't care. I'm La Fille en Verte. xD This blog is where you can find odd blurbs and snippets about moi's life in the zone. There are no guarantees that I'll blog a lot, but I will try to blog once a week? Happy? You better be 'cause I am.
Merry Christmas! I don't celebrate Christmas, but my family does have its sentiments: namely spend an hour putting up a 20 year old hunk of shedding plastic which is supposed to be a tree. Fun? I think not. But I did once upon a time. I guess it's better to do chores like washing dishes (ugh) and all with a willing mind.
I started reading Kahlil Gibran - a Lebanese author. Here's one of my favorite poems by him.
Song of The Flower
I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.
At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.
The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.
As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.
I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.
I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.
But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.
This guy is awesome! He wrote some short story like things, but they are all sad stories about the oppressed. I'd say his poems are more thought stimulating.
Well, got to eat lunch now... Upma yum. I <3 Indian food.
Things I'm grateful for (I stole from you Pilsbury, hope you don't mind)
-Indian food
-Cal Skate
-Ferrero Rocher hazelnut chocolate
-poetry
-funfunfunathome
|
|
tagboard.
|
archives.
By post:
By month:
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
November 2010
March 2011
February 2012
April 2012
May 2012
June 2012
November 2012
December 2012
January 2013
August 2013
|
affiliates.
Just Koe
Thought of Life
Credits
Layout: Mary
Colours: refuted
Host: blogger
|