May I Feel Said He

This poem is my absolute favorite.
Simple words and simple rhymes created by E.E. Cummings to portray a compelling love story. I first read it within the The Love Book application and then I instantly fell in love with how it was written and my heart broke at the same time by the meaning within those words.

Below is my answer to that poem. Enjoy and please do tell me what you think!

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My answer to E.E. Cumming's poem.

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Just Forget That It Hurts

An answer to Can’t Drive 55
Last song that I heard is You, The Room, and The Devil on your Shoulder by As It Is via the Discover Weekly playlist on Spotify. The following is a total work of fiction.

I hate being high. Tried it once. Unicorns. Popsicles. Happy thoughts, hurrah! Then two minutes after, demons. Monsters. Darkness. Nothing. All on repeat. Took the whole night.

Tried it again. Same damn thing. Nope, never again.

Life must have enjoyed seeing me high. You know why? Because even if I don’t take the stuff anymore, it is like the effects always come back.

I hate it. It hurts my mind. I wish I could just sleep it off but then my dreams will be tarnished as well. It is dark and cold.

You know that feeling that you get hurt and you can’t do nothing about it? You can’t scream. You can’t cry. That is what happens when I am high. I can’t just tell people to help me get the demons away.

I don’t get high anymore but I experience the effects almost all the time.

Always her. Her. Her. Her. He talks about her. Her. Her. Her. Her.

How about me, huh? I am here. I always am. I doubt that he talks about me whenever he is with her. Her. Her. Her.

Can’t do a thing about it. All I could do is nod, smile, laugh. Basically, I can only sit down and look pretty. The thing is that I do not think that I look pretty to him.

She is my demon. She is my nightmare. Damn her. Lucky. How about me?

Him? He is my high. Two minutes of unicorns and butterflies before he starts talking about her again. Then the demons start.

Perhaps, I should stop talking to him. Maybe. Just like how I stopped being high.  Then, I could say goodbye to the nightmares and to the demons. Then, she won’t bother me as much.

I tried. I tried ignoring him. Then he would ask what was wrong. How could I possibly tell him? It is like being high all over again. I can’t tell him. I don’t need help. Especially his.

It was the routine. Two minutes of heaven then hours of hell. How lucky she must be. How about me?

Ignoring him was harder than I thought. It was a worse feeling than being on high. It hurts more. Like his absence was itching into my soul, scratching a hole into it. It hurt more.

Lesser than two evils. So, I would be the great gal that listens to him. That awesome one that always supports him. I just have to let it eat me away and just smile until my smile is frozen. Then, maybe. Just maybe. It won’t hurt so bad. Or if I’m lucky, I would forget that I am hurting at all.

Inspiration and The Lack Thereof

I know that I have not been writing in awhile. I don’t know what I should write. I don’t know about anything worth writing. I wanted to write about my thoughts but I thought that it might sound childish if all I did was talk about myself. I wanted to write about my travel experiences as I did notice that travel blogs are the new thing. I might get a lot of readers. Then again, I don’t know how to execute. I wanted to write about life but I did not want to sound so depressing.

I went to work yesterday. I had to work with a fellow attendant who is a good friend of mine. She and I had a lot in common. She also has her own blog. Go check it out. It is not your typical lifestyle and travel blog. If my writing  has any worth to anyone out there then go on ahead and thank her. She was one of my motivation to start writing again which resulted in this blog.

Anyway, we talked about our common love (I refuse to call it as obsession) for Harry Potter. Besides that, the topic steered towards our life and work relationships. Then, it, in my opinion, brought us closer as friends. I envy her a bit before to be honest. She was just this free and uncaring thing that would make me look at myself and realize how controlled I was as a person. But then again, if she could do it then why can’t I? That is because I have people to protect and prioritize first.

This C.A. Villeta alter ego is already a stretch for me. My dear friend, if you are reading this, I beg of you not to reveal my true identity. I can’t handle that yet. Call me a coward but that is it. Talk about being a Gryffindor.

Anyway, I wanted to continue this blog. I really do. So, I started to interview her on how she did it. I did learn a lot. The most striking part of our conversation was as follows…

Her: How is life?
Me: Boring.
Her: That is not possible because you are not a boring person. (That was honestly the sweetest thing that anyone had said to me in a long time.)
Me: Then how would you call it?
Her: Uneventful
Me: So I am an uneventful? Is that not the same thing as boring?
Her: Not uneventful. I would say that not much things happen in your life.
Me: Same thing.
Her: ‘Uneventful’ is not really an appropriate adjective to describe a person.
*We started laughing*
Me: How do you do it? How do you come up with things to write about?
Her: When life happens then I blog.
Me: Then I must be so boring.

Then she talks about how she started her blog. I had to cut her off because I knew how. I knew what her social media posts meant. She told me all of it before. She forgot, apparently. Yet, silly me forgot the actual name of her blog when it was so painstakingly obvious. She talked about her experiences with whatever it was that was the closest that she could do in matters of blog promotion. She also talked about her most successful series, Single Girl Diaries.

I did not tell her that I write a blog as well. Part of me was embarrassed because I have been doing a foul job at it. Part of me was still clinging to the self-preservation that no one must know my true identity. And here I am talking about being myself. I am such a hypocrite. Then again, I am a big mess of contradictions. I recently posted a true life short story on Medium and I sent the link to the person in question. Now, I am writing this and throwing my shield up for her to know who I am. What a mess.

So, main point is I am writing again. Hopefully for the long haul. When life happens then she blogs. I guess I was looking for some majestic breakthrough in mine so that I could have the motivation to write again. That conversation must be it.

How will I do it? How will I come up with things to write about?
I have not the slightest idea.
For now, I will just write.
I will write even if it is just gibberish like this post right here.
I will write until I write something that matters.
I will write until the gibberish matters.
I hope.

It feels good to type again, to be honest.
To my dear friend, thank you. And yes, I think you are right. You should write more. There are people counting on your work. Count me as one of them.

Jack’s Pile by C.A. Vileta

I have done a recent achievement. I have joined Becoming Writer’s Annual Writing Contest. It is a contest that requires the participant to submit a 1,500 word story about the year’s theme, creatives.

My work is now published on their site and I could not be happier. Well, I’ll be happier if I won the contest of course.

My official entry can be found on the link. Please do put in your two cents. It would be much much appreciated.

 

Source: Jack’s Pile by C.A. Vileta

Blogtober Challenge 26: I Eat Pages For Breakfast

On the last week of Blogtober, I could not help but rejoice. This is momentous for me. I am about to completely finish a task for the first time.

For today, I am tasked to share my favourite book or magazine.

I am a bookworm before anything else. My bonding time with my mother when I was little (sometimes we still do it now) is to sit down beside each other on the sofa and read whatever we chose to at that moment.

My bookshelf (not 100% is in this photo)

My bookshelf (not 100% is in this photo)

I also dream to be a mother. A good mother.

For me, my books are my children. A good mother does not have a favourite child. Consequently, I have no favourite book or magazine. I do not even have a favourite author.

I have fiction, non-fiction, religion, self-help, and Doctor Who (it has its own category)

I have fiction, non-fiction, religion, self-help, and Doctor Who (it has its own category)

Old fairy tale hardcovers and children's books

Old fairy tale hardcovers and children’s books

I have to admit that my first edition Bloomsbury published Harry Potter set is their big brother. Not my favourite. It was just that I was a Potterhead first before I became an avid fan of anything else.

My fictional series books. None of them are complete as they are all thrift store finds so bought them individually. Another stack and stack of books are behind this one.

My fictional series books. None of them are complete as they are all thrift store finds so bought them individually. Another stack and stack of books are behind this one. Obviously, I need a bigger shelf.

What are your favourite books?

Black Mass Review

I like movies. Cross that. I like movies. I love movies.

I am no critique though. Like in books, I can’t tell what is the measurement of perfect lighting. I can’t distinguish the cinematographic technique used. I can’t use those technical movie-making terms because I don’t know them.

I am a fan. That’s it. I have my own criteria for judging a movie.

So, yeah, Black Mass.

Black Mass movie banner

Black Mass movie banner

I know nothing of its plot. I have never seen its trailer. I wanted to watch it because of Johnny Depp and Benedict Cumberbatch (shameless fangirl moment. I know, forgive me).

I give it an 8.0 out of 10 stars. This rating was not significantly influenced by the presence of the two aforementioned actors. Also, may I add a disclaimer that this movie is based on a book of the same title which I have only learned while watching the end credits. This resulted in me recalling that I did find such a book in a second-hand bookshop a few days or a week back. I thought that it might just be a coincidence that it had the same title as the movie as I knew nothing about it so I did not buy it. Add that to my list of mundane regrets.

What I liked

1. The presence of ‘garnish’ scenes. I don’t know what to call those scenes that are not technically needed for the plot arrangement but is there in the movie anyway to give depth and flavour to a specific event or character. Thus, I will call them ‘garnish’ scenes. The movie has plenty of those. I have notices it also in the previous movies that I have watched. I like how it serves as a passageway for the reader to connect with the characters of the story to a more equal level.

2. The focus on the faces of the characters during different parts of their lives. It appears as if you were there with them and you really wanna feel sorry for them and pat their back or something.

3. The diversity of the issues being discussed. I like how each character represents a different issue and situation. I like how the movie makes you think about each of them and take them into consideration. I’ll discuss more later on.

What I did not like

1. Nothing really… Told you that I am no critique. I can’t pinpoint wrongs. All I know that it was not perfect. Is there honestly a perfect movie?

Black Mass was an excellent film. Go watch it if you like mafia movies, family relationships, and those that tackle morality. It got that all covered.

PS. For the Cumbercookies out there, Mr. Cumberbatch makes a great American accent. Is there such a thing as ear candy?

PPS. For the Deppheads out there, the Master of Disguise sports a thinning hairline with blue eyes and wrinkles + freckles. Its like his version of Old Man Logan (X-Men special).

Now, I am going to talk about the issues in the film like I promised earlier. IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED BLACK MASS YET, STOP READING RIGHT NOW.

This is a major spoiler alert. I have spoiler-phobia so I would not read any further if I were you. But if you’re really persistent then go knock yourself out and read on.

Continue reading

Blogtober Challenge 20: The Evolution of My Workspace

I wish I have a desk. I wish I did. I used to have one. During my school days.

Once I stepped into the alumni batch, my parents thought it fit to disassemble and dismantle my desk.

My heart broke.

I was proud of it. I used to have those Re-Ment miniatures and cute little pencil holders. Then I used to have those colorful notepads and notebooks. I had assorted clear books and those Japanese DIY magazine on the top shelf of my desk.

When my school desk was destroyed, my things were brought outside and packed in garbage bags. I had to go out one night and do some scavenger hunting.

At least, I had one picture of it. Well, I tried looking for it. I can’t find it anywhere. Let me just sob in a corner for two minutes.

When I started to go into cabin crew training up to my first year of flying, I has shifted my amusement for my late great school desk to my bedroom headboard. It had Pop! Figures and photos of myself in large gold-leaf frames. I also had my notebooks and Harry Potter memorabilia. Then, I was also proud of my growing snowglobe collection.

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My bedroom headboard during my post-school and pre-flying years

After my first year in flying, I transferred all my stuff to a glass cabinet. I only left my notebooks on my headboard resulting in my current ‘desk’.

my desk

My current ‘desk’

So yeah, its a mess.

The box contains assorted art supplies, too many and too much of an assortment to mention.

I miss my old desk. Although, the lack of desk taught me to work with what I have and to maximize my thoughts and ideas.

I guess it was all good in the end. It will still sound good to have a proper desk though.

Blogtober Challenge 19: How To Make Scrambled Eggs

I don’t know how to cook. But, I love breakfast food. I could eat breakfast all day. (Yeap, take down notes, boys)

I can cook breakfast food. That is because the recipes can be found behind the box of flour or whatever and as long as you make that then whatever you add to it is still acceptable. Breakfast food is very open to interpretation and adaptation.

So, for today, I am tasked by Blogtober to share my favorite recipe. This is the only one that I have mastered (only recently). Let me put on my imaginary chef’s hat and I will teach you how to make scrambled eggs.

SCRAMBLED EGGS, yes, you read right.

Oh but these are not just any kind of scrambled eggs. You can’t physically eat them. But, it will satisfy you nonetheless..

Continue reading

A Jogger in Prayer

My Lord God Almighty,

Save him. Please. Save him. Please. Please. Please. I’ll do anything. Oh God.

I was so stupid. How should I know? He was just so weak. I was so stupid. I’m sorry.

He was waiting to be bullied. Imagine a person jogging around the park. He would run for two blocks then walk around four then run one block then walk around two then run half a block then drag his feet around six. Then I can hear his heavy breathing from halfway across the park! I mean what was that? I felt like Captain America as I mock him with an “On Your Left” whenever I pass him by.

God, please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Save him.

I am so sorry. How should I know that he was sick? Why would he jog in the first place if he would endanger himself? It’s his fault!

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Its mine. I should not have pushed him. I should have not taunted him to a race. I should not have called him names. Oh God, I am such an ass.

He just heaved and he fell. Then he did not move.

Oh God, save him. Please. Please. I’ll do anything. Just. Save him. I can’t live with myself if he dies. Please. Save him.

Help him. Please. I beg you. Just let him live. I’ll change. I’ll be better. I’ll… I’ll…