The Notebook

I finally watched The Notebook. FINALLY! It only took me forever. I’ve heard people say that it is the ultimate romantic movie ever and I’d think ‘eh’, maybe it’ll be just ok. I’ve watched my fair share of rom-coms, some great, others, not so much. So I guess on some level you could (I admit, I do ) call me an expert.

Considering the current ongoing  rom-com draught, ( which there is! There hasn’t been a decent rom-com in the last 3 years!! ) The Notebook was my only option.

After hearing its praises, I already had high expectations by the time it began. Most movies would fall flat compared to my expectation.  Not this one. No. This one, it’s on a level of its own. It had me smiling from the get go. The cast is delicious (read Ryan Gosling)! The banter even more!!
The storyline, oh the storyline is … its…. I just love it!

It’s nothing out of the ordinary! Nicholas Sparks wrote it in his signature sweet and simple fashion but he exceeded himself on this one!

I smiled,  I laughed and despite every effort not to, I cried.
I’ve got the warm-fuzzies! I don’t know how else to put it. My heart is smiling.

WHY DON’T THEY MAKE MOVIES LIKE THIS ANYMORE?! 

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I Think I Like Green

For the longest time ever, I have never considered myself to have a favorite colour.
But now, I think do.

I like the fact that it does not necessarily command your attention like yellow and orange,
Neither is it as easy to write of as the drab grey.

It’s not as rowdy and opinionated as bleeding red,
Nor is it as spineless as the blue sky.

Its not pretentious like ivory which is not white, nor vermilion  which is not red, not to mention mauve which is not purple.

Its not as prissy as purple nor as girly as pink.

It doesn’t claim the purity of white,
Nor does it wallow in the darkness of black.

Green is what it is. Take it it leave it.
Yeah, I think I like green.

Tomorrow’s Kiss

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She closes her eyes and she sees it.
The stage is set, the spotlight is trained on her, the sole figure on stage.
She feels her stomach clench. ‘Nerves,’ she tells herself. ‘Its just nerves’.
She takes a deep breath to settle her frazzled nerves and as she lets out the air in a slow steady stream, she feels the magic of the moment that she has been waiting her whole life for.

Her heart that was beating wildly a minute ago settles into a place that feels foreign and yet familiar. A place it had always wanted to be but had never quite been. Until now.
She feels the rapt attention of the audience, waiting. For her. They were waiting for her.

She starts to panic but keeps herself in check. She goes through the routine in her head one last time and then, she stops thinking all together.

She clears her head of all thoughts and hears only the music. She hears it, and she feels it. She lets her body move to it in the now familiar steps.
She moves, not with her head, but with her heart. Her heart  paints the story, but  her body, she uses as a canvas . She bears her soul and holds nothing back, giving the music all she has.

It isn’t about the steps she takes nor how she contorts her body! No! It was the story she was telling. That’s all that matters.

The routine comes to an end and she’s out of breath. Her breath leaves her body in white misty puffs and a bead of sweat makes its way down her brow.  There’s a moment where everything is silent. The audience, sits mum, not moving, not even a murmur.
She should be worried, but she’s not. She gave all she had and that’s all that mattered.
And then, the applause.

She opens her eyes to find that she’s still in the ballet studio. No, no audience. No stage. No spotlight. No applause. But she was still there.
‘Its only a matter of time,’ she thought to herself as she moved to the barre to practice some more. 

A Frogs’ Symphony

The first time I heard them, I wasn’t even sure what they were. I was about to fall asleep but the sound drove me to the brink of being awake.

People describe bad singing as being frog-like but right outside my bedroom window, two floors away I hear them singing and I don’t hate it.

Its a strange sound. It’s like a rippling echo resounded that begs
you to listen.

Somehow, tonight, their song is beautiful. Sure it doesn’t have the light and texture of the morning birds. Yes, it doesn’t put a dance to your feet, but it’s still beautiful. Not classically beautiful, but the raw beauty that is purely natural.

Tonight, I am lulled to sleep by the song of the frogs . And there’s nothing else I would rather listen too.   

Crush Course

I’ve been down this road before.

The hope and longing of a naive heart, I know too well.

I try to turn back but my feet have a mind of their own.

They trace the familiar steps even as the terror within me rises.

I don’t want to feel this way, and yet like a virus, it multiplies in my bloodstream.

My brain is already exhausted, playing out the various scenarios over and over again.

I wish I could fast-forward to the end so that I could know how empty this hope truly is.

But for now, I’m stuck on a ride that has a one way trip, and I’m not sure if I’ll survive the crash.

Questions Unasked

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Will we ever be more than a distant dream?
More than a wistful glance?
Will we ever be more than a longing sigh?
More than a suppressed emotion?
Will we ever be more than an obsessive thought?
More than a naive wish?
More than suspended reality?
More than a tear-soaked pillow?
More than suggestive smiles?
More than a rollercoaster of emotions?
Will we ever be one mind?
One heart?
Together?   

Material World

It’s a terrible feeling to not have. To know that something you need cannot be in your hand for one reason or another … it humbles a man. It takes you down the peg you did not realize you had raised yourself to. It makes you realize how fickle the comfort in having really is ; one moment you have, the next, you have not.

Such humility easily compounds to pain when you, who has not, meets or even just brushes shoulders with a person who has. It only takes a glance at their lazily confident gait to tell which category they may fall into. With each step, the very set of their shoulders can say it all; I have.

You see, a person who has, wants to be seen while a person who doesn’t, would rather not disturb the air surrounding them. They would rather stick to the wall while the former grabs every eye in the room. Its one thing to not have but it’s another for someone else to realize that you just… don’t have.

Anything can be had but not everything needs having. Want is relative, need is something that has to be had. Missing something that needs to be had …. well, it can kill you, but it will make you stronger.