Dry: A very short poem
Curly dry earth
Hugs a rusty old can
And some cracks
Gentle like a smile
Archived entries for
The war at the office
It’d be a perfect lie to say I am totally satisfied with my lines of work and the office settings I live in and what not. Those are not the things I am about to put into this entry, however, but I will rather tell you about the war I have to fight every single day at one of the offices.
You see, there’s this person I work with that I do not quite get. I do not understand his motives and his behaviour, and I always seem to fail to comprehend his malice when, as a consequence, I pay the price.
I perfectly understand competition, and I am quite a competitive little person myself – ask anyone, but this sort of twisted scheming I am not used to. It shocked me time and again how this person stabbed me in the back, for no obvious reason but to hinder what progress I would be making.
Then I could not tolerate it any longer.
I am not loud. I think being loud is such a vulgar thing, but there was this one time when I yelled at this “person” for a straight 15 minutes. The look on his face, his mumbling to himself in confusion, and his reaction as a whole were priceless. Since that day on, I have had little or no hassles at the office.
Think not if someone is polite that they lack in voice. Revenge is a sweet dish best served cold, so say some and so pray some.
Not again. Not really. It should be a month soon since the Box moved from Blogspot to its own DotCom, and it seems as though some major sites featuring it, such as toot, are not precisely aware of this fact or are quite skillful at procrastination. There could be a handful of other possibilities, naturally, and I am a person who believes in the benefit a doubt can hold.
As a kind reminder to all concerned, do update your bookmarks and you will live happily ever after. If ever after ever existed, that is. And big, warmish thanks go out to all who got the message “The Box has moved”. Brilliant!
Say it as it is
If you happen to have any suggestions, special comments, private opinions or any other messages you would like to get across, do not hesitate to fill in the form below expressing yourself. I would like to learn of what appeals and what doesnt in the Box, have no inhibitions and say it as it is.
9:50 AM addition: This entry will run through the next two days to grant you more time to post your thoughts. Should you have more than one, at different intervals, don’t be a stranger! Let it be heard.
Quoting Oscar Wilde on Fashion
Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.
- Oscar Wilde
A young girl's donkey
The following piece was submitted on November 30th, 2005 as an assignment on “A childhood memory” during Creative Writing class.
I am not trying to be funny when I state that once in my life I wished for a donkey. I was obsessed with horses ever since I learned of their existence, as I still am. I always put demands forward to my parents to buy me a horse, and they never complied.
Never losing hope, I opted for a donkey. I figured, ” If they do not want to get me a horse because it is expensive, then a donkey will certainly do!”. I think some supernatural power overheard my innermost plans and granted me them.
I was sitting in a minimalist house in a village called Samara in Karak, where my family used to spend the weekends. A regular weekend would end with nothing exceptional taking place, perhaps a lizard here or there, or an injury, that’s about it. Not anything flashy and – it came out of nowhere; a donkey on the loose wandered into the room where I was sitting.
The image that haunts me of that day is surreal. The way the donkey came inside the room, engulfed in light and terribly confused, was dreamlike. I gave the poor creature a name and my father helped me give him basic, yet urgent, medical attention. His leg was severely scratched and he was very thirsty. I was amazed at the quantity of water that a donkey can consume; I had had no prior experience in this field.
Later on in the day, a woman came and claimed the donkey. She said it was hers and had run away in the morning after, in a magical sense again, having liberated itself from the rope that tied it to a fixed spot. I cried.
Let there be light
“Light is Love revealed.
Light is Life manifested.
Light is God fulfilled.”
- Sri Chinmoy
Lead me from the unreal to the Real.
Lead me from darkness unto Light.
Lead me from death to Immortality.
- Mantra of the Upanishads
“When we live in darkness, our human life is a constant want.
When we live in Light, our divine life is a constant achievement.
Light in the physical is beauty.
Light in the vital is capacity.
Light in the mind is glory.
Light in the heart is victory.”
- Sri Chinmoy
Announcement
I will be unable to monitor the happenings in the Box, and to compose any fresh entries during the two days to come. Tololys Box will be back online early next week, probably on Sunday April 16th.
In the meantime, you can always flip through The Archives for any entries youd missed or any others youd like to enjoy. Have a nice weekend!
The answer is simple; its because devoted Jordan Planet commentator Kinzi Jones has written a feature on six female Jordanian bloggers in Aprils issue: Khalidah, Lina, Natasha, Roba, Salam, and yours truly.
I got my copy just today through my sister, whose office is not located in the desert, unlike mine. The ladies look marvelous, and the written text is a joy to read.
Its lovely to see the feminine side of the blogosphere covered in such a way, I say keep the coverage alive. It was particularly interesting to see the unique traits that distinguish each lady-blogger from the other, and to explore some new information about each. On top of all that, meeting Kinzi was a true privilege that I personally am honored to have obtained.
On to my personal reflections on the whole affair, I decided to design a FAQ section to be posted in this entry exclusively treating my appearance in the magazine, and answering the many questions I had to take in today.
Q. Why does the position of your hand on the laptop look so awkward?
A. Thats the disgusted way I type. I get slandered for it all the time.
Q. When did you get a laptop?
A. I didnt. This laptop was brought in for photo shoot purposes only.
Q. What book is that on the table?
A. The Three Theban Plays by Sophocles.
Q. Why arent you looking at the camera, while all the other ladies are?
A. I wasnt asked to, and I would like to stress that the pose was not fabricated by me to look any of the following: serious, mean, angelic, or asleep. The photographer took only three shots of me, and was interrupted by the guard at the location prohibiting him from further completing his job because he had not acquired permission to shoot in that location. A terrible surprise for me, naturally, to put things diplomatically. There was supposed to be another appointment set for a proper, look-me-in-the-eye picture, but the proposal was never brought to consummation, hence the Im-typing-go-away picture we can all enjoy.
Q. Do you like it?
A. Yes. After all, when I type things I generally look at what I am typing and reflect on it, much like in the shot. Come what may, my parents love the poise, and so does my lady-boss. I have to hand it in to the photographer, he really did a good job.
I should bring this entry to an end before my twisted sense of humor gets too exposed, then theres no concealing it. A note on the side, I do not own a scanner so I had to take a picture of this page,kindly forgive any imperfections you may find.
"Spesso il male di vivere ho incontrato" di Montale
Spesso il male di vivere ho incontrato:
era il rivo strozzato che gorgoglia,
era l’incartocciarsi della foglia
riarsa, era il cavallo stramazzato.
Bene non seppi; fuori del prodigio
che schiude la divina Indifferenza:
era la statua nella sonnolenza
del meriggio, e la nuvola, e il falco alto levato.
