WhyMyBlogPostsAreAdmired.

I barely ever stumble over to my blog and decide to write something. Why do people like what I write? Oh, yes, the secret weapon. It's really very simple. A full stop. Yeah, you heard me correctly, a full stop. No emotions. Only does text convey emotions when it does so on its own, without the basic need or requirement of assistance of emotions. They just add the childish look. No Offence. Then the few-worded sentences with full stops at the end. Try keeping it simple. Give it the professional look. Standard English is the way to go.

A blogpost.

God, I blog too much. Way too much. Just a tad more than too much. You know when in cartoons like tom and jerry the mercury in the mercury-in-glass thermometer over-expands and breaks out right through the top, the screen goes red and the sound of a train's 'everyone's-aboard-and-we're-set-to-depart' horn plays in the background? Yeah, well it's kind of like those moments. I should seriously cut down.

Mistaken.

It's not worth apologizing for. You might try. But to no avail. The damage has been done. It's too late.

You've made the mistake. Whether consciously or not. There isn't anything you can do at this point in time to turn that around.

You should've thought of it before. That big mouth of yours is always ahead of your brain. Well, you've done it this time. Regret it, don't you?

Well, that's how it's going to be hereon forward.

So, either you sit in that dark, damp alley corner all your life, dwelling on your mistake.

Or you forget about it, ask for repentance, whether or not it is guaranteed, and move on.

But wait...

Is there hope?

Yes... That repentance. That forgiveness. It might come.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Maybe in a few months.

Maybe when you log onto your email account sitting comfortably on your living room couch as your offsprings gather around you for story time.

But wait, it. will. come.

Patience... is the key.

You've done what you could do on your part.

You asked for forgiveness.

You've paid the debt for your mistake.

Move on.

I say, Move. On.

The price was yours to pay.

Move. On.

TheBigQuestionMark

Even in grief, we can be happy,

when we suffer, it is wrong of us to concentrate only on stream of pain,

we must realize that all pain is self-inflicted,

And mesmerize the days we are given an opportunity to pass on smiles to others.

When I began composing this very blog post, I thought I'd rather continue the above to form an entire poem. I had constructed two, wonderfully put, further stanzas, but what put me off, you wonder?

Well, hate itself.

Hate of what?

Of blogging? No! That can't be. He's blogging now. He does it so great. Why would he hate it?

Well, unfortunately, and indeed, regrettably, that is the bitter truth.

Somehow, when a decision is put forward, there are two sole choices, either a yes, or a no. You can have it, or you can not. Discontinuous.

And why, is it, that the 'no' appears more fruitful? Well, because, it means no effort is wasted, and you can, by all means, become a couch potato.

Well, I'm afraid that's life.

But... (Yes, there's a but)

But... what makes us, different from life, is us. Our will power. Our ability to choose. To make a decision. To differentiate. To make a difference in our life.

One way, one path, one direction, will always look a lot easier and more welcoming that the other. But intelligence lies not in choosing what looks right, rather in what is right. What feels right. Looks may be deceiving, but you get to know that only once you're deceived.

Let's not make that mistake, shall we? :)

Lamentines Day.

The fourteenth of February.
Many people all over the world got up today, in anxiety and enthusiasm, for what might turn out to be a turning point in their bright social lives.
For me, a teeny tiny insignificant microscopic microorganism on the face of this seemingly endless earth, however, the situation was different.
It was one of those usual mornings, where sleep felt better than anything else. A morning where mom had to come into the room and slap me on the face to get me up for school in the morning. A typical February morning.

The uproar in the school bus was an entirely separate chaotic mess.
Students all over the place, chitter-chatter, paper balls in mid air, valentine cards being exchanged by the little brothers and sisters or the actual targeted, just because they're too afraid to say it face-to-face.

Valentines Day is for the afraid. The terrified. The ones who hide from life itself. If you've got the guts, go ahead and shout it out loud! Let the world know! What good does giving it all your best on a card you refuse to sign, adding an anonymous 'X' instead, which is bound to transform to a paper airplane in the next few minutes?

And why a specific day for it? If you truly love someone, go on and say it every day of their life. You'll get a lot more smiles in return and actually find yourself useful.

Oh, and Olayan launched a new tea brand, Tetley, so my dad say's were moving on to it. Farewell, Lipton.

One of those days.

It's another one of those days where you just feel trapped. Trapped in a box. Dangling down from the ceiling like a chandelier, from a piece of thin thread, spinning in mid air with no consciousness to what you are actually doing.

You feel confused, frustrated, exhausted.
As if there is no meaning to life.
You feel lifeless, powerless, weightless.
You begin to ponder over what it actually is, what is actually happening.
None of it feels real.
You consider your self to be lost. To have gone astray.
No end, do you see.

It's one of those days when nothing seems right,
When coffee doesn't smell like it always does,
When the voice of the newscaster on TV doesn't really catch your attention,
and mere sound waves enter through one ear, and leave from the other,
that is, until you come back to life, and realize your wasting electricity, and nothing more,
but, still, in confusion, hold the remote in your hand, staring as if pressing the switch-off button is rocket science.

It's one of those days you have a lot of spare time on you. Especially after you've been rejected to participating in a game of Man Hunt around the compoud as you're too fast, and you're sitting in the darkest, dampest corner of your house, with just the moon light shining on half of your forehead, through the shatter-proof windows.
The sound of the clock ticking grows louder, and louder, and louder, until it has finally taken over your thoughts. You sit, hopeless, in dismay. Afraid. Alone.

Idleness gets the best of you.

Yes Please, Boys.

So we had our first exam today.

Not that any of them matter, as all that we're concerned about are the external ones, but, just because it wasn't 'me' to not do so, I studied some bit anyway, and it made it all the worse.

So I arrive at school, finally once the bus driver has decided to eventually bring the bus to a halt so kids can actually get off, only to find out I'm sitting with a bunch of other wanted-list targeted criminals outdoors for the exam. Yes, it was chilling, in fact, literally freezing. For a moment there, I began questioning the senses of the school management.

But only until some even greater bad news descended upon me, which ruined the whole thinking-school-to-be-dumb scenario. He comes up to where we were supposed to be seated, in his favorite Black shirt and grey suit outfit combination, slightly stretching at the edges where his physique sometimes promotes thinking of him as Wall-E, exclaiming, "Yes please boys, take your seats!". I begin cursing my fellow convicts whose actions I blame for his presence.

Anyway, not that it affected me. Like I said, I don't cheat, and apparently don't feel the need for it either.

But wait, there was more.

The 'seat' I was assigned was right next to bunch of water pipes, thick and thin, pretty much of all sizes. Right below it was an electric motor. So you can pretty much imagine what my day went by like. If there was any advantage, it was that every time that motor switched on, reminded me of the time remaining. I believe it was a 15-20 min duration.

Regardless, I tried to concentrate on the crisis Naeem had prepared for us.

I'll probably bring along gloves tomorrow.