The written Chronicles

Coming back to school today was very symbolic. Because it felt autumnal.  And compounded onto that fact is that we were going through a literal analysis of the two poems that some did for the mid years. It was about death. But it was about life too. The first poem was moving. The poets attitude is as such : resignation of what has happened, shaped by fate but holds the spirit of carpe diem. And then it ends off  ambivalently. That itself is life. Everyone was silent. Everyone was hoping not to repeat the same fate the occured a year ago. They really want to pass it this time. Amidst the silence you can sense both the hope and regret in everyone. Regret because judging by the answer schemes, we speculate lower marks than initially expected. As for me, I really hope what I’ve put into during the holidays materialise properly.

These past few days have been reflective and suprisingly emotionless and nonchalence for me. I have an unprecedented want to be ever more cautious. Hearing too much death stories in that time period isn’t nice, be it from the news, from a poem, from a fiction, from a true account. But it serves as a timely reminder. It never occured to me life can be so delicate, so fragile.

I went home after school to catch some 40 20 winks. I watched the movie the day after tomorrow.

Jason Evans: What do you think is gonna happen to us?

Jack Hall: What do you mean?

Jason Evans: I mean us? Civilization? Everybody?

Jack Hall: Mankind survived the last Ice Age. We’re certainly capable of surviving this one. All it depends on is whether or not we’re able to learn from our mistakes.

Knowing the survivors triumph over the odds and adversities, warms me inside. It gives a glimpse of hope to us, to others and all mankind. What Jack said had just punched verismilitude in our lives, metaphorically. We had our past challenges, socially,  spiritually etc. It really put me into perspective of the miles my parents have went far. Broken families are of their past, and the lives that we live today is a testimony to their efforts. Good food on the table, a proper bed to sleep, and a stable household.
And upon hearing moments of death and other unpleasant occurences , turning the matter onto its head, its a new life. Its simply the cyclical forces of change. For the spirit of ourselves is like one of the phoenix rising from the ashes, rebirthed. It may not literally be the death of life but the death of happiness, hope, vision, or faith. Because subsequently, it is just new found happiness, or hope or vision or faith. Not identitical or similar, but the gurantee is better.

As for myself, my dreams were shattered into million bits with rejection being a bitter pill to swallow.  Without it, I wouldn’t have gained new vision – seeing something ordinary with new pair of eyes, or even changed my ways.  Or has it?