brain dumpty dump.

i am tired.

tired of feeling tired, tired of being demotivated, tired of always wanting to be on top of my game; and yet, falling short. badly.

i’m not sad, though. i’m still able to count my blessings and practice gratitude. i still have a deep understanding of my faith in God. i know that i am loved by family and friends. i am thankful for all the opportunities i’ve had growing up in a rather privileged life.

and yet, here i am. a dry spell that feels like a limbo between excitement and fear of what is to come. i am not ready to embrace adulthood fully; as if my soul somehow feels the shortened years of my teenage-hood.

why, though? i miss the me that scrambled to do everything she can with every last scrap of energy left in her spirit. i miss the moments of breaking down every so often because i feel overwhelmed; and then picking myself right back up five seconds after the last teardrop had fallen. i miss agreeing to everything and still being able to deliver it all with excellence.

and here i am, with new commitments that are fewer in number than before, and yet with bigger responsibilities that threaten to crush my lifelong-built confidence in one small erroneous step. here i am, with things to do that make me question my abilities. here i am, with positions to hold that force me out of childlike naivety and into the realities of life. and here i am, lying in bed, wondering when in the world i am able to face them head on once again.

i do not want to be dramatic. but hey -- if we do not view life as the audience of a theatrical scene every so often, will we ever be able to grow?

prompted | outside the window.

cars pass, honk, zipping to places unknown
the double-parked one receives hushed whispers and
disapproving looks from the aunties
clad in matching blue and white stripes and billowy sleeves
an attempt to make middle-aged shopkeepers
of a commercialised traditional Chinese medicine brand look 'cute'

knock knock knock
the building never seems to be done with its
endless, long-drawn construction
speculation of what it is supposed to be
has turn into indifference - does it matter anyway?
clank clank clank

teenagers strapped down with backpacks
and stacks of textbooks burdened with expectations
of their typically Asian parents who refuse to
accept that their children are not Einsteins
(but wait - Einstein was a terrible student, wasn't he?)
goodness knows if Einstein would've benefited
from daily lessons from uninterested part-timers
in tuition centres who pack fifty bored teenagers
into a white-washed room that smells of markers
(which is heavenly, i must guiltily admit)

what am i even doing anyway, writing a 'poem'
that has no rhyme, no structure, no lyrical lift
about the view outside my window when i'm actually
not even looking out the window at all?
all i'm doing is staring at a screen,
pretending to be pretentious (Lang Leav, who?)
only writing about the bustling street that is Jalan Radin Bagus
purely from memory
purely out of the years i've spent here
and not because i see it
outside the window.

a much-needed break.

Photo by Nil Castellví on Unsplash

My last paper is tomorrow and I have never been so excited for a semester break. I feel like this semester has been hectic; I always find myself forever rushing from one thing to another, be it church, school, work, family, friends, etc.

For once, my school break perfectly overlaps with my work break, and I am looking forward to a week of letting my mind wander. I am looking forward to making art, talking with family, spending time with friends, reading books. I am looking forward to not having deadlines or meeting anybody's expectations. I am finally saying that yes, I need, really really need, a break.

And this break is going to be fun! Sleepovers, gatherings, probably a visit to an art festival, and to top it all off, a vacation away at sea with the family. I am beyond excited.

Yay.

brain fog.

My cognitive controller is currently on a vacation in the clouds.

I can't think straight, and my exam's in two days. Everything I'm studying becomes wisps of knowledge just out of my grasp. I grapple around blindly, attempting to find connections in the midst of it all. Yet, I end up reading 80 slides' worth of a chapter in Tamadun Islam only to realise that I didn't understand a single thing.

This is what happens when you sleep past 2am for four days in a row, I guess. Something about the social media (again; seriously, it's becoming so bad) that keeps you hooked, scrolling for more, wanting to see what the world has to offer. And most times, what the world has to offer is a whole load of cow turd. None of it inspires me to be a better person; the only thing I am better at now is the speed at which I scan the words on a Facebook post.

I am distracted beyond control. I study for a full ten minutes and I find myself on the Twitterverse again. I'm typing concepts and theories I don't understand into the Google search bar and as I wait for the search results (thanks, slow internet), I'm once again reading Harry Potter conspiracy theories on the Explore page on my Instagram. It never ends.

Brain fog; it's real. No motivational music or alpha waves or soothing scents or sunlight can help me. I've gulped mugs of water down in hopes of hydrating myself for rejuvenation, but all I feel now is just the strong urge to pee.

Checking out.

I need a nap.

the bridge

Romans 3:19-28
*
the law was set in place in a world that needed it

the world held accountable in the way God saw fit

'just follow the law; get saved'? not a bit!

it's just made us conscious of sin, aware of the pit

we try and try to be perfect in God's eyes

in all of human history, some never realize

that no matter how hard we shoot for the prize

we fall just short; only redeemed at a price

but, great news, God's righteousness revealed

in faith, our salvation eternally sealed

every spiritual illness, in Jesus be healed

our sins be gone, our shame concealed

where, then, is boasting? you did not save

your own sorry butt from Death's dark cave

but Jesus Christ's own spotless life, He gave

the bridge to eternity, He died to pave

too good to be true

Based off of a devotion plan on the YouVersion Bible app, The Promise of Easter by Our Daily Bread.

*

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! 

In His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope 

through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,

- 1 Peter 1:3 -

In His great mercy. There is nothing I could've ever done to deserve love from the Creator, the Almighty, the Lord on high; and yet, He had mercy. It's like a king, who has had his own treasure stolen by thieves, deciding to let them go free, unpunished. It's like a principal, who has had all the school rules broken by a delinquent, giving him a second chance. It's like a mother, who has seen her own son curse her and bring disgrace to the family, and yet, she embraces her son when he comes home with a remorseful heart. There is nothing they could've done to warrant forgiveness, and yet, forgiveness was granted. New beginnings, a living hope, just like salvation through Jesus Christ.

and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. 

This inheritance is kept in heaven for you,

- 1 Peter 1:4 -

What's more amazing is that this second chance, this gift, this wonderful act of undeserved mercy... it's forever. There is no end to it. There is no human, no leader, no power, no spiritual force who can separate us from God's love. It's kept in heaven, a place so safe, where nothing can destroy it. It's a treasure that was passed on to us as an inheritance, because we are declared children of the Father in heaven. He died, so that we could receive our inheritance. 

who through faith are shielded by God’s power 

until the coming of the salvation that is ready 

to be revealed in the last time. 

In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while 

you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 

- 1 Peter 1:5-6 -

But it doesn't end there! Jesus is alive and well, enjoying Heaven! How exciting it is to anticipate the long-awaited coming of Christ. The only response is gratitude as we come to realise that God's power protects us from things trying to distract us from God's kingdom, as we look forward to the day Jesus comes again. It really puts all our earthly trials in perspective, as we faithfully keep our salvation dear to our hearts, working it all out for the glory of God.

These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith

—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—

may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.

- 1 Peter 1:7 -

Wow! Pure, sincere, genuine faith is of greater worth than the most valuable of metals, because there is no material possession worthy to glorify our King. What strikes me the most is that God felt that our faith is much more precious to Him than anything we could ever deem treasure! It is so simple, but not exactly easy. In verse 7, it reminds us that the value of gold will still fade even though it has gone through the perils of fire. I can only imagine what kind of trials we have to face for our faith to be so strong that it is considered more worthy than gold itself. Nevertheless, I love how the testing of our faith results in wonderful things, and that staying faithful will not be in vain. Praise, glory, and honour for Jesus! That's the result of our faith! #whoooaaaa

Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and even though you do not see Him now, 

you believe in Him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, 

for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

- 1 Peter 1:8-9 -

Ah, I just love how the mere belief in Him can produce an inexpressible joy. That's the kind of joy I want to experience, and that's the kind of joy I find myself being in awe at each and every day. And the result of our faith? Salvation. How could you not celebrate and party and dance, knowing that you've just been pardoned of every single thing you've done wrong? How could you not jump with ecstasy, discovering that just by BELIEVING, your guilt has been washed squeaky clean? How could you not sing your lungs out when you experience that inexpressible feeling of being loved by God?

I am humbled by his never-ending grace. This just spurs me on to live for Christ, live like Christ, and live in Christ! 

in Jesus - a poem

when fears creep up to scare me

and anxiety is a must

i stand unshakable, 'cause

in Jesus I can trust

bound by guilt and worry

doubts as deep as the sea

i know there's One who knows it all

in Jesus I am free

at times I break and weep

my heart can sing no song

i relish in the joy of Christ

in Jesus I am strong

and at the end I am assured

though our shells return to dust

our souls are safe in the arms of God

in Jesus I can trust

*

The name of the Lord is a fortified tower;
the righteous run to it and are safe.

- Proverbs 18:10 -

hustling culture.

Nine days into the new year, and I'm already swamped with work. If I wrote the previous statement just last week, it should be read in a dead, complaining voice. But as I'm writing it now, excitement fills me.

Just seven days ago I remember my cheeks being damp from the overwhelming expectations that came with this particular semester. Just seven days ago I was on the verge of letting it all go, meeting the most minimal of requirements and craving for a way to quit. And heck, it was only the second day of 2017.

Hustling culture is very real now, in this age of idealistic millennials. Bombarded with messages on facing the grind, on working for your goals, and on visualizing your wanderlust has filled the social media as my peers started to enter university while older friends began to arrive in the workforce. It's all good and inspiring when you're in the get-up-and-go mood, but hustling culture punches you real hard when you're just... not feeling up to it.

It's superficial, I feel. It's all goals and tasks and wins and money and success and dreams. It's so easy to lose sight of what's important, especially as a person who follows Christ. Hustling culture sugarcoats itself in the wonders of working hard for what you want. It presents itself as a solid, foundational purpose on which youths can base their lives on, because it's a win-win situation for everybody. Working hard pleases your boss, gets you a raise, makes your parents proud, and ideally gets you to where you want to be. Friends are envious, siblings beg for your help and seniors praise you for your hustle. It's inspiring and exciting, until you realise that the novelty of achieving a goal satisfies only one person: yourself. Being self-centred is a dangerous (and very likely) problem when hustling.

When you hustle, are you taking time to rest intentionally? When you hustle, are you hustling so that your parents can retire comfortably? When you hustle, did you use your life to appreciate the huge bulk of fees your parents paid for you to study in the UK? When you hustle, did you make sure you are celebrating your friends' successes genuinely? And for my brothers and sisters in Christ, are you hustling with God by your side? Has hustling become more important than the One who saved you?

My first paragraph mentions my excitement. I am excited because having stuff to do is good. Having projects to work on and assignments to complete is good. But above all, I love the fact that it is now more than ever that I feel the genuine concern and love from those around me. It is now more than ever that I'm placing my trust in the One who blessed me with opportunities to study, to serve and to impact society. It is now more than ever that I'm learning to hustle, in a way that pleases my Father.

convicted.

noun

a firmly held opinion or belief

*

Conviction is a scary thing. It is also beautiful. I am, of course, speaking of it in the context of my faith. 

I just came home from our church's teens camp, in which I was a facilitator (called 'Handler', in our lingo). Handlers were there to facilitate group discussions, to follow up on the teens' lives and to be an all-round lookout for the physical/emotional/spiritual safety & well-being of our campers. 

I went to camp with the expectation to serve. My mindset was pretty firm on getting to know the teens a little better, guiding them closer to Christ through my words and actions, and to contribute to the camp the best that I could. Boy, was I in for a surprise.

It was the third day, and we had an hour of silence. We had this hour to meditate on Psalm 139, a passage in which King David speaks about God being all-knowing, all-present and all-powerful. These verses hit me like a ton of bricks:

Search me, O God, and know my heart;

test me and know my anxious thoughts.

Point out anything in me that offends you,

and lead me along the path of everlasting life.

[Psalm 139:23-24]

Without going too much into private detail, let's just say I broke down. Privately, and in front of the group of teens I led as I shared what I experienced. I was vulnerable and totally pierced by the force of God's whispers. He spoke to me in ways I never imagined; so much so that I lost track of time and returned to the hall half an hour later than the others.

I didn't know how a conviction felt till that hour. I never felt so strongly about something; something that I couldn't structure into a tangible, audible sentence. My perspective has never been this new, this fresh, that everything I see now is tinted with something indescribable, something of Christ. I was securely held by the still voice of God, and I had my guard down for the rest of the camp. I was open and I was strong, and yet I felt weak, too. It's complex, but I now understand.

Revelation after revelation followed, and it left me in awe. It felt like I got to know an old friend much better than I've ever had; but yet, I was in complete reverence of this King who came down to embrace me. I felt safe in His arms, and yet I trembled with respect for the God who created me. It was a completely new feeling, and yet it's like I came home to the place I grew up in. 

Thank You, Father. Thank You for Your love, Your mercies and Your grace so undeserving.

screens and dandelions

She smiles to herself as she watches another heart-warming video of a soldier coming home. She gives a small snort as another meme appropriately describes a friend's story. She rolls her eyes as another PPAP parody blares out of the speakers on her phone.

And after what seems like an endless conveyor-belt of stories on her Facebook news feed, she finds herself looking at something she already saw, and realises that she has been on Facebook for way too long. With two clicks and a press, she finds herself on Snapchat.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Her thumb mindlessly wades through hours of Snapchat stories, documented in noisy clubs, hipster cafes and college campuses. Her eyes take in frame after frame of badly-taken food photos, pretty faces of girls with dog snouts on them and distorted facial expressions. She puts filters on her own face, and amuses herself.

And soon enough, with two clicks and a press, she has wandered into the world of blue, blue Twitter. She scrolls through hundreds of mini blog posts that seem to amuse, offend, and interest her all at the same time. She taps on the little hearts, inviting a burst of red to symbolize her approval for a friend's funny thought. But as the swish of the timeline reveals zero new tweets, she moves on.

She teleports to Instagram, the vast world of visual images, moving and non-moving. Perfectly edited and symmetrical, she indulges in pictures of architecture, art and culture. And the food pictures, oh! What a stark contrast to the grainy cuisines on Snapchat. Other girls sweetly tucking their hair behind their ears, looking down at the ants on the gravel, being photographed by a compliant boyfriend admiring her beauty in a square frame. She wonders if she will ever experience the same thing.

Then a breeze moves across her face, and the voice of her baby brother chimes: "Look! Look what I found!" He holds up a bright, white dandelion, a brilliant grin plastered across his rosy cheeks.

She smiles, sets down her precious screen, and joins her brother in the warm, sunny backyard.

"That's a dandelion!" she tells him.

*

prayer.

God, 

You hear my pleas for change

the thoughts becoming strange

i long to turn the page

of memories engraved

God,

poison and toxic build

tension, bitterness, guilt

i want my soul refilled

align me with Your will

God,

save this soul from sorrow

for the sake of tomorrow

Your light i will follow

my heart sinks although hollow

God,

Your will, not mine, be done

to Your eternal love i run

may i emulate Your Son

in His death, all battles won

God,

i rest in Your embrace

grace me with Your grace

wipe the tears off my face

as i live through these days

amen

bubbles and sunshine

She takes a deep breath as she picks up her pen, all ready to let her thoughts flow. A short story is brewing, taking form in her busy brain. It is threatening to spill out onto lined paper. The empty journal is hungry, thirsty to be soaked with the black ink from a Faber-Castell pen.

"A sad story. That gets people real good."

 She is going to write a sad one. One with dramatic descriptions, a long-winded story line and an epic punchline. She is going to make herself cry with this story. 

She starts to write. She pours every sorrow she has into make-believe characters. She digs up past hurts and bitterness, only to be buried again in fiction. Arguments, tears and death takes place in her created universe. Flourishing entrances, dramatic exits. You can almost hear the symphony and its mourning.

But then she stops. Her pen hovers over a dying mother. She thinks twice, thrice, four times. The world has enough sadness, does it not?

With a rude scratch, the pen flies across her precious storytelling. It is now null and void, invalid. Officially unfinished.

"Maybe I'll write happiness instead." 

And so her pages begin to fill up with bubbles and sunshine.

*

8 Types of Close Friends

We all have close friends. I believe the people in my life are close to me in different ways. So here's some of them:

1. Passion Discussion
This type of close friend shares a favourite something. Be it a TV series, a K-pop band, a hobby, or a talent, this is the friend that you will fan-girl with. It may not even be hysterical or fanatic. Some of these passion discussion friends carry out meaningful, intelligent conversations about something you both are truly passionate about, like a field of study or a favourite non-fiction author.

2. Once in a Blue Moon
Ah, this close friend. The last time you heard from them was... six months ago? But one of your birthdays roll around, the annual phone call takes place, and BAM, you find yourself on the phone for the next three hours. It is during this phone call you start to find out that your friend's leaving for university in three weeks, got into a relationship a month ago and crashed her car just last week. But there's all this love and familiarity, so this kind of close friend is pretty fun to have, too.

3. Sick of Yo' Face
Seriously, you see this person every single day. You literally have the same schedule as this friend, and you most likely are their neighbour too. You grew up with this friend, probably went to the same kindergarten, and your parents are best friends as well. You are SICK OF THEIR FACE, and they most probably know everything about you only because you see them so much.

4. Kind Of But Not Really
This is the friend who is invited to your birthday party (and vice versa), gets you a birthday card, wishes you at 12am. You guys give each other Christmas presents, you all hang in the same gang, and other people associate you guys to each other. But... what is this friend doing currently? Studying? Studying where, and what? Nope, not sure. Wait, she's working? Close friend... kind of, but not really.

5. Philosopher
Mmm, this is the friend who chills with you having late night conversations about the existence of humanity. This person questions your very identity and challenges you to dream. Your friendship is based on deep conversations and crazy ideas, but you have absolutely no idea what they did yesterday.

6. Accident & Emergency
ALERT. PERIOD EMERGENCY. This is your go-to friend. Stained your pants? This friend's getting a text from you. In the fitting room and not sure which one fits you best? This friend's getting a ton of pictures of you wearing three different sizes of the same dress. Forgot to bring money? This friend's gonna have to dig out their wallet. Oops, sorry, A&E friend.

7. Online
Ah, the classic close friend of the 21st century. You talk to this friend for days on your online platforms. WhatsApp messages, Facebook posts, Twitter mentions... you name it. Your Snapchat streak with this person is off the roof, but, honestly, there's really nothing much to say once you see them face to face.

8. Doing Stuff
And finally, there's the doing stuff friend. The one who you always find yourself hanging out with. Shopping? This friend's right there. Watching The Maze Runner? Yup, watched it with this friend. Gotta buy some groceries? Yeah, this friend's probably there looking for some milk and cheese. Need to grab a coffee? This friend's gonna be ordering one for you.

And of course, the best kind of friend is the one you share passions with, talks with you for hours on end, sees you often, challenges you to be your best, is always there in emergencies, will hit you up for an online chat once in a while and also does all the mundane, everyday things with you. It's hard to find these special people, but when you do, hold on to them. Hold on tight.

when I was 8.

When I was 8, 18 was everything. 18 was the age I would be treated as an adult. 18 was the age glorified by the media, by tradition. 18 was between 16 and 21. It was the official end of childhood and the beginning of probationary adulthood. You could still have fun at 18. But you could have adult fun if you wanted. And no, that does not mean shady things. I meant adult fun like museums, road trips and dinner parties.

When I was 8, 18 seemed like a far-off matter.

When I was 8, 18 would be the time I know what I was supposed to do in this world. 18 would see me in a big, fancy university, studying with geniuses, lugging around large textbooks and discussing serious, grown-up things with professors in round glasses and grey, Einstein hair. These professors would be wearing white lab coats, all the time.

When I was 8, 18 seemed to be a fascinating world of socializing, parties and friends. No, I knew at 8 years old that I would never be one of them, clubbing their days away and drinking beer. But I did imagine at 8 that 18-year-old Jess would have a respectful, honourable but distant relationship with her family. Of course, Hollywood said so, right? At 18, you moved out. At 18, you had your own car, your own apartment, and definitely no parental supervision. What's not to love? 18 seemed like a darn great time.

When I was 8, 18 was the time where I would grow out of Bible stories. Stories about Noah, Abraham and Moses would be a vague, distant childhood memory. My parents singing "Jesus Loves Me" as a sweet lullaby would be stored away in a warm, fuzzy treasure chest at the back of my mind. The nights I spent writing Scripture verses in my little "memory verse" notebook at 8 years old would be a piece of cake compared to the science and math formulas I knew I had to memorize at 18.

But then, 18 happened to me this year.

18 sees me in university; at least that part is true. 18 makes me realize that I've advanced further in studies compared to my peers. Yet 18 has put me in humbling situations again, and again, and again. I did not meet professors with grey hair and white lab coats. Instead, I meet lecturers who are filmmakers, linguists and doctors. I meet lecturers who are activists, believers and single parents. I meet real-life people. And boy, do I learn a lot from them.

18 brings me close to my family. 8-year-old Jess loved her parents. 18-year-old Jess loves, respects and admires her parents more than ever. 8-year-old Jess played with her brother. But 18-year-old Jess shared thoughts, had debates, held conversations and conveyed deep feelings with her brother. 18-year-old Jess lives with her family, eats with them every day, and even works with them -- and it's ever so amazing. So warm, so loved, so secure. A huge part of me dreads leaving home one day.

And finally, 18 grows a faith in me I could never have imagined. 18 helps me to understand the importance of Noah, Abraham, Moses and their heroic stories. 18 still sings "Jesus loves me, this I know," because it's true. And 18-year-old Jess is ever thankful that the Word of God remains in a deep memory that is difficult to get rid of. 18 is a year of spiritual growth, a year of gratitude and a year of taking my faith seriously.

When I was 8, I imagined 18 to be full of knowledge, freedom and self-reliance.

But when 18 came around... 8 was proven wrong.

keep writing.

I want to write. I want to write shocking things. I want to write crazy things. I want to write funny things, sad things, lovely things. I want to make people laugh, cry, think, wake up. I want to inspire and encourage. I want to create dreams within people's imaginations.

When I write, I fly. I soar. But when I write I also break. I tear apart things that don't want to open. When I write, I dig deep. I gorge out the things that are hidden. When I write, my fingers chase my thoughts like a poor worker who missed the number 82 bus. When I write, I don't exist. I only live in words.

If I want to tell a story, I write. If I want to stand for something, I write. If I want to share joy, I write. If I want a burden lifted, I write. If I am lonely, I write. If anything, I write.

But things just get in the way, you know? Insecurities creep in and whisper their dissatisfaction into my tired ears. Your writing isn't that great. Come on, my mom loves the way I write! But she's your mom; of course she supports your work. But how about my friends? They like my blog. Oh, you mean those likes on the link you share on Facebook? You think those count? But...

It's okay, you see. It's okay to not like your work. It's okay to think you're not good enough, because that's the only way you are ever going to improve. It's okay to doubt your gifts, because you will find ways to prove them. And it's really, really okay to write just however you like, because you're the writer. You think of those words. You had an idea. You wanted to write about it. You did it.

You there. Keep writing.

trashy thoughts.

It's scary to think how much trash

Fills our full minds each day

Words and images and videos

Unstoppable, coming our way

We waste our time feeding our minds

With things not beneficial

We compare ourselves to those we see

On bases so superficial

Crazy, isn't it, when we think about

How people spent their time

Before technology and its impact

On lives, yours and mine

When information competes for space

In our brains so clouded

We think of nothing else but these

Opinions and ideas shrouded

We seek to think about ourselves

When there is so much more

that can be done to touch others' lives

Instead, perfection we adore

Changing who we are to what we want to be

To try to make an impression

All in the name of uniqueness

Individualism and self-expression

Complaints and swearing and negative vibes

Flooding our tortured souls

Affecting our lives and emotions

Getting in the way of life goals

Maybe it's time to care less

About others' perfect-life projection

Perhaps one day we will realize

Our minds need lots of protection

*

Finally, brothers and sisters, 

keep your thoughts on 

whatever is right or deserves praise:

 things that are true, honorable, 

fair, pure, acceptable, or commendable.

 - Philippians 4:8 -

it's so easy.

It's so easy to find yourself lost
It's so easy to see yourself falling into pits
you'd never thought you'd even encounter.
It's so easy to lose momentum
in the vast, crazy world of university life.

Surrounded by people from
All walks of life, different than you
Slipping into habits you never had before
Habits you never struggled with
Influences creeping in from all directions

No constant prodding from teachers
No obvious answers from the books
No red pens, no A's, no tables, even
There's nothing familiar, nothing I know
Nothing I can recall from my past

It's a shame; what was once a 'good girl'
Slowly slacking, hardly trying
Is it the long breaks and the mood swings?
Is it the insane amount of freedom?
Really, in university, it's
                                     just
                                          so
                                              easy.

26 - ZEAL

[The twenty-sixth and final entry of April 2016's A-to-Z Blogging Challenge.]

*

Oh, my word, it's finally done

What an eventful, blogging-filled month!

Filled with letters from A to Z

Here's how this journey has treated me!

First I felt anxious to start this game

I tried to prepare for the days that came

But then my posts started to be boring

Sigh, I wish I could just goreng :(

Chewing on potential posts every day

I even dared to write things I don't usually say

Excellence was something I tried to pursue

And I hope I didn't force anything on you

The challenge was really going great

Had all these rhymes popping into my head

Ideas were forming and just pouring out

Joy, kindness, laughter my posts talked about

Mornings were spent trying to stay ahead

Nights I wrote for tomorrow; I couldn't wait

Opening tabs to find suitable pics

From pexels.com, lovely stock photo picks!

Quitting this challenge was a temptation

Running away and seeking vacation

Truth be told, I was getting uninspired

Vetoing my own thoughts, becoming tired

Wisdom and knowledge were gained in this season

'Twas like using an x-ray to find a reason

For my love for writing and why it kept you engrossed

Zeal was what I had; thanks for reading my posts!

*

To all those who have been keeping up with my (almost) daily posts and encouraged me, I'd like to sincerely thank you for supporting me in my writing. It really was not easy trying to keep up with churning out a (hopefully) interesting topic and create (hopefully) legit rhymes about said topic. It almost felt as if I was half-dead in a marathon, gasping for air, yearning for energy as I reached the last few letters. Anyhow, it has been really fun to keep my blog so fresh like this, and I'm really not sure when I'll ever blog again! Maybe I'll stay away from this for the next year or so. (Jokes!)

Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed it. 

The #AtoZChallenge 2016 has been officially completed!

25 - YET

[The twenty-fifth entry of April 2016's A-to-Z Blogging Challenge.]

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Have you done your homework?

And have you fed the pet?

Oh, no, I was too busy

Not yet, no, not yet

The television's not working

Have you pressed "reset"?

Or are you kind of busy?

Not yet, no, not yet

Have you cleaned up the spot

That's muddy and quite wet?

Please, I'm really busy

Not yet, no, not yet

Have you visited your old friends

Or the friends that you've just met?

Really, I'm quite busy so

Not yet, no, not yet

Have you hugged your children?

You're too busy, I would bet

But really, have you done it?

Not yet, no, not yet

Have you called your parents?

Or did you 'conveniently' forget?

Oh, I'm just too busy

Not yet, no, not yet

But if this was your last day

You'd better not regret

Will you still keep saying

Not yet, no, not yet?

24 - X

[The twenty-fourth entry of April 2016's A-to-Z Blogging Challenge.]

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X is fascinating, strange little letter

Something unknown, something better

It's made up of diagonally-crossed bars

Just like how people paint little white stars

X marks the spot where pirates hide treasure

It's what you mark with when you use a tape measure

Sometimes our answers get X's on them, too

When the teacher finds errors in the work she goes through

X, pronounced 'chi', the twenty-second letter in Greek

Let me tell you a fact from this Christian geek

The X in X-mas actually represents Christ

So don't say X-mas was a Jesus-heist!

X, the mortal enemy of those who hate math

The unknown that induces irrational wrath

X, a real tough letter to write with a brush

Trust me, I know, you should not rush

X, the men who were biologically mutated

X, for movies that have been *a-hem* rated

X for xtremepapers.com, our best friend

For past year papers in our schools till the very end

Okay, I admit the last one was so forced

I guess that's all about X that I have to endorse

X was really tough; thanks for all your suggestions

Hope all these rhymes didn't give you indigestion!