Pink skies...

Nefes...

Patterns have a funny way of popping up at inconvenient times.

Dun Kerbelaydi. Dun Muharrem 10du. Dun kara bir bela gunu, acidan en acilari, matemlerin en huzunlusu. Ama buda Muharrem Mateminin yavas yavas bir sona geldiginide belirtir, ve Asure gunun yaklastigini sinyaller. Bu yas, bu aci kabilimizin hic bitmek bilmeyen, kanamasi durmucak bir yara. Biz hep goz yaslari dokmeye devam edicez, ve Sahimizin yolunda emin adimlarla ilerlmeye devam edicez...ama Allah'in kuralida bu.Geri kalmakla sevnip, ibadetimize devam etmek.

Kendimi tam tekrardan herseye verebilcem derken, simdide icimden gelmiyor hic birsey yapmak. Duzene oturtmak, neden hep bu kadar zorlar, insanin ici disi sikinti dert, yas dolar? Ben hayatimi gunluk bir duzene sokmaya calistikca, tekrardan Irem gittikten sonra, tekrar hersey cigirindan cikmak istiyormus gibi. Hep bana bir ters duzen. Acilen bir is bulmam lazim. Icim geciyor, kendimden geciyorum, hic birsey yapmak istemiyorum. Zorluyaraktan herseyi, miy miy miy miy ilerliyorum. Benim bir hava degisikligine ihtiyacim var.

Muharrem 7

Bugun Muharrem 7. Kerbela'ya 3 gun kala, uzuntulerimiz buyudukce buyuyor, goz yaslarimiz kendilginden akar. Akar ama...getiremezki geriye Hz. Husayn'i. Bir kere yikanmistir Kerbela Hz. Husayn'in ve diger Ehli-Beytin kanlariyla Ne kadar gokten yagmur yagsada, bu kani temizlieyemez. Peygamber efendimizin optugu o boyun, yanaklar sonmus, gozleri, kapalidir. Peygamber efendimizin varisi olup, gonlumuzun son tesellisi olup, Peygamber efendimizin  gozumuzun nuru dedigi Hz. Husayn'in o guzel, temiz, imanli kalbi atmaz, atamaz, durdurdular onun sevgi dolu kalbini. Ecelinden olmemistir, Yezid'in adamlarinin elinde hayatini dini ugruna, haksizlik ugruna savasip kaybetimstir, cenk yaparak, onurla. Hz. Husayn, babasinin ogludur, adaletlidir, biat etmistir Alemlerin Rabbina, Allah'a. Ondan gelen herseyi basiyla beraber, tum kalbiyle kabullenmistir. Kalbimiz inceden sizlar, goz yaslarimiz kurumaz, Allah'a dua edip sabir temenni ederiz. Daha da anlamaya calisiriz, ibadetimizi eksik etmemeye calisir, bu buyuk cesaretin, kudredtin vede fedakarligin karsiligini verebilmek icin elimizden geleni yapariz, onurlandirmaya calisiriz Hz. Husayn'i. Allah bizlere onlarin yanina gitmeyi nasip eyle. Hu. Kerbela sehitlerinin ruhlari saad olsun, senin nurunla yatsinlar Allah'im.

Elveda Zeynep

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VvsXefkHcrY

Elveda Zeynep

Ben gidiyorum meydana
Düşman ile çarpışmaya
Ceddimin dini uğruna
Öz kanıma bulanmağa
Elvedâ Zeynep elvedâ

Bacı ben şehid olunca
Çok dövünüp de ağlama
Sabrınız çok olsun bacı
Emânet kalın Allaha
Elvedâ Zeynep elvedâ

Zeynep bu susuz yavrular
Yavrusu ölmüş analar
Sana emanetim bacı
Yakınma çok sızlanma çok
Elvedâ Zeynep elvedâ

Acılar anası Zeynep
Hazin baktı kardeşine
Ey peygamberler vârisi
Kalbimin son tesellisi
Kardeş Huseyn kardeş Huseyn

Gücüm yok kırıldı belim
Git demeye varmaz dilim
Kardeş gitme bir daha dön
Son kez göreyim nur yüzün
Kardeş Huseyn kardeş Huseyn

Gözlerim arkandan bakar
İçim yanar yanar yanar
Gözümde yaşlar tükendi
Kalbim sızlar sızlar sızlar
Kardeş Huseyn kardeş Huseyn

Küçücük kızı Sakine
Koşarak geldi Huseyne
Açtı minik kollarını
Sarıldı ayaklarına
Gitme baba gitme baba

Baba ne olursun gitme
Bizleri kimsesiz etme
Götür bizi Medîneye
Düşmanlara esir etme
Gitme baba gitme baba

Baba bu küçücük kalbim
Ayrılığına dayanmaz
Gözlerimin yaşı baba
Bir ömür boyu kurumaz
Gitme baba gitme baba

Bütün çocuklarla baba
Söz veriyoruz biz sana
Biz artık su istemeyiz
Su deyip seni üzmeyiz
Gitme baba gitme baba

Huseyn elvedâ ediyor
Gökte melekler ağlıyor
Düşman Huseyni bekliyor
Zeyneb ölümden dönüyor
Eyvâh Huseyn eyvâh Huseyn

Zülcenâha bindi Huseyn
Susuz yola düştü Huseyn
Fırat uzaklardan bakar
Akar mahzun mahzun akar
Eyvâh Huseyn eyvâh Huseyn

Başına neler mi geldi?
Huseyni kimler mi kesti?
Bunları bana sormayın
Nebî ağlar Zehra ağlar
Eyvah Huseyn eyvâh Huseyn

Huseyn'e kaç ok saplandı?
Kimler elinde doğrandı?
Bunları bana sormayın
Ali ağlar Mehdî ağlar
Eyvâh Huseyn eyvâh Huseyn

Çadırları nasıl yandı?
Başı kaç diyar dolandı?
Bunları bana sormayın
Kalem ağlar kağıt ağlar
Eyvâh Huseyn eyvâh Huseyn

Kan kılıca galip oldu
Kılıçlar kanda boğuldu
Hak müstahakkını buldu
Bâtıl düştü zâil oldu

Yakında göreceklerdir
Nasıl bir inkılâp ile
Zalimler devrilecektir
Zalimler devrilecektir

Muharrem

Bugun Muharrem 4. Gecen entry'nin zaten grammar hatalarinda kahkaha tuttu beni Kutuphanede. Sanki onlari yazan ben degilim.

Muharrem, Hicri takviminin ilk ayidir. Bereket, bolluk zamanidir, Allah on peygamberine cesitli ikramlarda bulunmustur. Bir rivayete gorede, dunya Muharrem ayinda biticektir. Ayni zamanda Muharrem ayi, Matem ayidir, uzuntu ayidir, Kerbela ayidir.

Muharrem acidir, Peygamber varisi, Hz. Imam Husayn'in bizlerin gozumuzdeki nem, kalbimizde hic dinmek bilmeyen acidir. 10 Muharrem'de, Hz. Imam Husayn'in Kerbela'da ailesi ile Yezid I tarafindan sehid edilmislerdir. Bu yuzden ne kadar goz yasi doksekte, ne kadar oruc tutup, sussuz kalsakta geri getirmez Hz.Husayn'i yapilan yanlisligi vede yanlis halifelikten Islam'in bugune gelisini. Ehli-Beyti oldurebilicek kadar acimasiz, vicdaninda Islam sevgisi, peygamber saygisi olmayandir, vede onlardan buyumustur ve oylece taninmistir, tanitilmistir dunyaya, ve bu baskici, yanlisliklariyla emislerdir onlara biad etmeyenleri, tipki Hz. Ali'ye ve Hz. Husayn'a yapildigi gibi.  Hz. Husayn'dan sonrada kendilerini rahata koymus, ezmeye devam etmislerdir.

Hz. Husayn, Hz. Hasan gibi, bizlerin incileridir, peygamber efendimizin kendi kanindan, canindandir. Cigerimiz yanar, her saplanan ok, temiz kanini akitmistir. Bizler icin Hz. Husayn, birer bayraktir, baskiya bas kaldirmadir.

Muharrem

Muharrem is the first month of the Islamic Calendar. It's also the time where Moses has landed on the Mountain, escaping from the flood. It's also a time of mourning for us. A time to collect and contemplate. Therefore, I will be on a short Hiatus for 12 days to perform certain religious obligations I tend to fulfill lovingly and wanting so :)

Voices

Sometimes my own voice is not enough. It's not loud enough, it's not clear enough, it's not crackling and sophisticated enough, condemning for you to listen, commanding your soul through the sound of my voice.

Sometimes my voice just doesn't have the strength to reach to you, leaving me here, feeling silent, beaten and forgotten. My own demise feels just around the corner as the New Year shall begin.

Strange melancholy has gotten a behold of me, no good poetry could sway me away from the tide of the moon, my fangs have already visibly flashed everyone around, no use to retract them now.

My heart can no longer deal with the violent shrinks and expandings...I no longer can afford such rapid, insolent and fickle, intense emotions.

Therefore, I often I need other voices to help me figure out the distorted emotions within and to put them into a eligible context where understanding them is possible.  Others' words on situations or topics that sometimes that are irrelevant with my own existence, situation or emotions, sometimes they guide  me to the right path.  With their voice, mine becomes a whisper in the background that really guides me into the my own salvation, to hope, to dream...for a short while that is.

Ozlemek mi?

Ozlemek cok garip birsey. Ozledigin zaman bir kere neden ozledigini cozmek zorundasin. Ozledigini anlamak zor oluyor aslinda...nerdeyse birini sevdigini anlamak kadar zor. Birine ihtiyac duydugunu bilmek, birine mutlulugunu baglamak, onlarin muhabbetine ihtiyac duymak, insanin gururunu oksayan seyler degiller. Hic birsey kitaplardaki, filmlerdeki gibi olmuyor ki. Insanlar duygulariyla cok savasir, icten icte, bin kere dusunur, emin olamaz. Genellikle kor olur uzun bir sure, duygularinin gercekligine. Bazense, anladigindada, gec olmus olur zaten.
Ozlemekte onun gibi. Yanimizdayken, onlarin degerini bilmeyiz, onlara ne kadar bagli ve muhtac oldugumuzun farkinda degilizdir, duygularimizin derinligini ancak, cok uzaklara gidip, ayri hayatlarda buldugumuzda anlariz, onlara olan arzumuzu (ask olarak degil), onlara olan bu "yearning". Yanlarinda olup, seslerini duyup, sohbetlerine duydugumuz ihtiyac. Cunku, onlarin bir cift sozu, milletin saatlerce dil dokmesine yakindir. O iki sozyle, seni guldurebilir, aglatabilir, icini rahatlatabilir. Seni cok mutlu edebilir.

Bir seyin yada birinin ozlemini cekmek guzel oldugu kadar da, insani zorlayan birseydir. Ozlemle yasamayi bilmek, insani yogururken katilastirir. Hemde cok. Ozlemle yasadigin icinde, yanina vardiginda sasirirsin. Uzaktayken, hayaller kurarsin, ama gercegi ya cok daha guzel olur, yada hayallerinin cok altinda kalir. Sense...bunu belli etmemek icin elinden geleni yaparsin. Ama, karsindaki sezer, birseyler kirilir ikinizina rasinda.

Icinde bir alevi dinmek bilmeyen ates gibidir. Yanar, alevlenir, ve tekrar tekrar sen kendin beslersin. Resimlerine bakarsin, gonderdigi mesajlarina...tutarsin goz yaslarini. Ozlemissindir, ama bunu soylemek artik anlamini yitirmistir, cunku senin yerin onda eskisi gibi degildir, onemini yitirmissindir. Sadece sana geri donmesini beklersin. Arkadasligini korumak, yeniden yesertmek istersin, ama elinde olan birsey yoktur...yapamazsinki.

Dreams

Waking up early is one thing I've accomplished today. It's better than nothing done at all perhaps. But it isn't as early as I would have liked to woke up. Nonetheless we (I) need little things to keep my motivation going as it's quite low recently for I've been overwhelmed constantly trying to struggle through life. I've decided I've had it enough, but still, there is very few I could actually do about it and this waiting period is killing me. Each hair is on it's end.

I miss the nights were I could dream, dream endless things from personal future, to other strange things that sparks my imagination to create my stories and the world of imagination that keeps me hoping striving. But I've been unable to make up any stories in my head regarding any one. Not the crazy ones where there are supernatural ones, not the ones about people in the deep forests or sandy corners of the earth, literally scraping through to survive, trying to fight against all odds in their own sickened, disabled, diseased and powerless states of personhood in the eyes of their governments. No stories about college students trying to make it big, or how love happened to bring two people together, unrealistically. My own future..well, seems quite bleak to me, with not much that I seem to be able to dream or think about. I don't know whether it's because I've used my imaginative juices for a while and they need a rest or it's because of the mild depression I'm going through. It's not good, I used to be able to picture myself in so many different scenarios, in so many different shoes, different homes, different friends, with some of the old and the dreams that are as different as day and night, living through them through those very vivid and out there imaginations of mine that would usually seep out through my mind at night as I would lay to sleep and when I walk around alone at night, in the silent streets that screams of middle class America boredom roams through.

My dreams are rare, and when they do happen to visit me, it's short, brief, confusing and I usually have been forgetting even a bigger chunk of the very few seconds and leaving me one image that is either too scary to think about, or the remaining image is too insipid where I can't make anything out of it.

So I've lost all of those dreams of what I wanted to do, what I wanted to become, what I wanted to change...I mean the big ones remain as to what I would like to do in the gist of my life (publish, help women around the world to gain their voices both in their governments and within their personal lives) but I have no other dreams left than that. No other personal dreams have been collecting dust in my mind. It's a blank...

Christmas Music, Noo!

I thought of a whole string of topics I wanted to talk about last night as I was trying to fall asleep and yet when I woke up, they're all gone. A few of them were actually really good and things that mattered to talk. Sleep and the awkward sensory stimuli that we call dreams, sometimes nightmares... just leave it to them to ruin my mental process.
But here, we enter another highly commercialized holiday; Christmas. Usually I would say Thanksgiving, but Christmas music has started playing at the malls and gas stations, Christmas candy, gift cards and decorations are up everywhere and lined up in stored to be sold. What is wrong with this picture? Well, firstly, it's still only November, meaning we're still a whole month and then some away from Christmas. There is another rather important holiday I'd like to say, in between now and till then that requires perhaps enough attention as there are important historical factors and shame within this holiday that needs our attention and acknowledgement as Americans living in the 21st Century. I fear between September and December, all holidays will vanish in time due to the engrossing growth of Christmas.

Also, I don't want winter to approach. I am perfectly content it, being November for another three months or so. Would make my life ...well not better, but I just don't want Fall to end.

Aspern Papers

There is magic to waking up early. I swear by it. The earlier the better, so much gets done by noon and with a powered lunch, you can still go for another eight hours, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders to a solid finish, come home and settle into that book by Henry James after dinner with a cup of hot tea and say hello to Juliana of Aspern. Even getting out the house, perhaps not daily, but a few times a week is healthy. It's more than healthy, it's a necessity. It takes away the stale air from your lungs, instead filling it with fresh air and giving you a chance to soak up in the sun. Seeing faces doesn't damage either. By nature, our psychology is wired to interact with others socially and well, although sometimes people could get the best of us and get us down, they can also make us feel like we belong in the bigger picture to feel not so insignificant, lost and without value.  Social animals is what we are the very least. This interaction among other human beings is necessity to continue to function properly, even if it is barely and you had the look on everyone's faces. You had the smell of passing cars and chill seems to bother you endlessly. You might hate the kids running around, and the sight of the joggers with their barely there shorts whipping against the wind. You might prefer the quietness and the stillness of your house, where you can hang around in your underwear and drink endless number of cups of tea, coffee, lattes, sodas and what not. But even so, it is still good for you to be out there.

Been there, done that, have tried it. A good balance as always is what gets us through the day...and oh yeah, recognizing, knowing, understanding and embracing yourself to work out a schedule that works out for you, but perhaps doesn't work out for the rest of us...that's okay too. We might not all be as individual as the each snow flake that falls down from the heaven, but there are many different kinds of us out there and one thing will not suit another. Even logic seems to be subjective as of late. I digress, because after another episode of depression I seem to be struggling again to make something of myself, of my life and still trying to be on track, at the very least try to get out of this rut, against all odds...Even I am surprised at myself at this point and to be in the library, surrounded by books once again, I am ecstatic and words seem to fall off from the tips of my fingers without any editing or control and I find myself at the end of very long run-on sentences.

Well, hello Henry James and the Aspern Papers :)

Cursed Sundays

I hate waking up late on Sundays. I know that it is the norm on Sundays to wake up late and just kind of taking easy, relaxing. But my days goes to a waste when I wake up past 9, where I lazily try to catch up and well, wake up. I walk around like a drunkard, wondering were the day went.

I know that some people don't like to walk when it's windy and out in cold weather. I couldn't have liked it more though. To feel the cold air in your lungs and the reality of the world swirling around your skin, under layers of clothing, and the wind slapping your face against your will, reminding you of the past, regrets and the dawn of the future that could make you, one that's just around the corner.

Senseless

Writing senseless things seems to be the current itch of mine as of late. The irresistible currency that seems to leave me uncomfortable when I am done writing and when time doesn't permit me to get to pen and paper, and or here, I seem to lose partial bits of my sanity into the abyss that's been eating me for the past few weeks. I just am not sure what is there left to think, analyze let alone write and talk about. Everything is out there, flown like a wounded bird, halfway soaring through with heavy wings that no longer could carry it with it's broken pride and broken goals to fly across the Atlantic. Within this unhappiness, there is absolutely nothing left to think about and nothing to feel. Just what is it that I am trying to get out of me...that even I am not sure.

I've been meaning to write poetry, these few lines have strung together that keeps repeating in my head over and over again, but I haven't gotten the true inspiration and motivation to actually sit down and write those few lines and possibly that will become several poems that will eventually end up draining me emotionally. I just don't feel like I have anything left in me, which is counter intuitive to detrimentally block my own creative expression and productiveness.

First Snow of the Season

On Wednesday, the first snow flakes of the season fell pretty rapidly, fluidly and for a long time. Only it was too wet to accumulate down here in Madison, where it's warmer in comparison to the rest of Wisconsin.

It snowed and strings of my heart were touched and they sang the same old melancholy song for one more time, but a little bit more profoundly alone this time. A little bit more discouraged, a little less hopeful and still resisting to give in, still fighting for that time just around the corner that I've been waiting for a long stretch of time...to my credulity. Let's face it, no matter what I do, it will never get better. It's just the psyche and fate of humanity. While some things might look better, feel better, I will never actually be better than what I am today. On the other hand, I am not arguing that I am at the apex of my self growth, quite contrarily. Though my growth will continue to be retarded by life's never ending circumstances until my nerves one day quite decidedly agree to give up on me collectively, leaving me bedridden and clinically in depression, perhaps with a shattered mind, with my memories wiped out.  I might have a more positive and closer affinity with fiscal monetary seasons, I might become more secure after safely landing a career oriented job. I might age slower and continue to look a long younger than my age. I might gain a few pounds. I might live in a bigger apartment, with better materialistic things surrounding and meeting my necessities, even beyond the essential requirements. But I will never be able to let go of the past, these hounds of my past immorality and the never ending darkness that keeps gnawing at my soul. The secrets I shouldn't hear, the things I shouldn't see.

It snowed, impure. It wasn't a full round snow flake, white and pure, advent of a season of carnival. It was tarnished, watered down like soup, with much of the content and the core missing, snowing just because someone told it to snow. Perhaps, God decided it was time, hence we barely had any rain this fall. It only served the purpose of wetting the ground and reminding me of the momentum I lost while selling my soul to the devil to earn a few bucks to earn a living, not even comfort, quite pathetic, isn't it?

But I can't help it...I feel so dried up, so fed up, hardly have any energy left to keep going.

Into the Winter

Fall has been here with it's rich colors, the cooling heat and the scent of the burning logs have surrounded the neighborhood. Halloween has come and went and Thanksgiving is just around the corner.

Autumn has always been my favorite time of the year. There is solace and comfort in it, artistic creativity and a stir in my soul that could only be comforted by creating these boundaries that makes me feel safe, secure and bound. But Fall is slowly leaning into winter and leaving the warm and cozy feelings carefully snugged within my dark, deep and well, cold corners of my soul to a hollow abhorrence and abandoning the creativity that moved my very passions into a dull mind where curling up on a couch and reading seems to thoroughly challenge my spirits.

I don't like feeling this way, I don't like seeing the loss of motivation in the past few weeks that have sapped into my living energy due to an idiotic boss that annoyingly gets under my skin. I'd like to return to that recovered sense of self that I had so longed for months, even years. The freedom I had discovered, the sense of feeling lightness I had come so used to feeling, all gone and I don't know what to do recover all of that...It hurts and feels like I've failed once again.

You can't fix me

Sometimes there are things you just can't fix in me...When things are broken, they are broken and no matter how much you leave the darkness out in the light to seep through it's core to alter it's personality...but it won't change.

Certain traits are written in stone, you can't alter them. No matter how much you want to remove it from your traits list, or how much you want to tweak it to give you an advantage in life...

I am what I am with the good and the bad. You can't expect me to be like you and try to put me in these molds so that I can become an ideal type of person for you. If I am not catching you as I am, guess what buddy, you and I are not going to make a good match. Because there is so much pretend I can do before it all comes crushing down, taking the two of us in a spiraling hell that just will become our own abyss (well one of my many endless ones).

A person can be inspired to change and be a better person as a whole by an event, a person, an idea or a movement. These are all necessary in human life many times over to keep our growth constant and fruitful. Regardless though, the person has to want that change. You can't make me someone who I am not to make me more desirable for you. This cannot be a negotiation.

I am spicy and stubborn. This is who I am. If these qualities bother you, just move on to the next person that makes you feel something. We don't have to end up blissfully together. For all I care, I am not interested in you that way. But I am sick of people trying to fit me into molds and being hard at work to change my personality, tweaking traits and characteristics that I value to begin with, and sometimes wanting to change the bad things about me too, regardless though, these are changes I must want myself. You can't change me for me. That is a decision only I can make and you can't try to make me feel bad for deciding not to change and being perfectly content with being who I am.

Page Breaks

I haven't really written here in a while. I had some drafts and even those got delayed publishing as I seemed to have well, kind of weighed down to the depths of the ocean due to my insane and unbearable boss. I lost interest in pretty much doing everything, barely getting through the essentials.

Losing the joy of living, the energy to be happy is a solemn thing that's not only fleeting, but also easily breakable. It makes the world go around, it allows things to get done, move on and well, make me happy.

I feel cornered with no options out and the oxygen in the room is being withdrawn by predetermined time periods. Trapped and trapped within insolvable problems that are not disappearing or getting resolved on their own, hence the word insolvable, and I digress. I am excited to be taking the initiative to write again, but my mind is not here, my body is definitely aching and I am not sure where I am left with a dread that's growing by the hour of an upcoming shift, that seems ceaseless and a torture from hell even I couldn't envision. I can't leave this job, I am not finding a new job, and I still have to live, pay a shit load of expenses and the debts are not even getting any lighter.

Its the same cycle over and over. Its sucking my very breath of life.

Pure Ramblings

Who can blame sleepless nights when the light of the night seems to be incipient within our consciousness, slowly dripping through our mind's eye and flowing through our finger tips, craving just one more page of Poe's macabre work that's just so tiltating, focused and, perhaps over-abundantly used undefined illness, madness and stock characters, but still, so structurally established that it's hard not to give way to his structural symbolism and the Gothic Literature that everyone is bound to find glistening in the dark hours of the night, attractive like a Siren who is certainly deadly and certainly the soldier is aware of the potential drawing threat, who is ready to embark on his new sexual conquest, hoping, almost confident he can get away with it?

The night, thus stretches into the morning as our credulity thrusts us into the next line, pushing us into the next page, perhaps creating images that stirs our soul in all the right and the wrong ways, in a miraculous way that seems resonant to our antebellum mind, a little rebellious but further craving the black poison that we just can't do? Finding us at the advent of the morning, not so much in glory and in welcoming, open arms that we seem to hate the ending of our sizzling adventure with the cadaverous existence of death. After all, who doesn't think of Frankestein, or Dracula every one in a while, where the impossible seems to come alive, quite probably with a little proving and a little straining of our credulity all in a night's work to open the mind's eye to the way words are strung together on a string of pearl, reinstating a cliche as we turn to run away from in...what's there to be original about after thousands of years of writing?

The night is alive, stirring, it's dull and saddened, it's imbued with evil, fused with the possibility of chances and opportunities. With a little jazz in the background, one or two vanilla spice candles burning, scars of the heart that we all secretly wear, a little wavering hope that seems to flicker with our fleeting emotions and the changing status in the world, it's so logical how the night influences the very existence of our beings, the core of our souls like two windows staring out from it's throne. A little red courage to keep us going, the way it shines in the glass, romantically charming and so fluent in all the languages that we whisper within words and breaths, the ones we refuse to speak at any cost, even if it costs us tears and love at the very end....With so many doors to open, unending into eternity, morning only comes to soon...

So who can blame the night? When such lurid and lustrous creatures, living and non-living seduce us, tempt us and succumb to our own whims and wishes that we follow it through all of its incarnations, blindly like following the Apostles' creed, forgetting Night has her own creed which is unforgivingly punishing.

Deger

"Love, who will comfort me?"

Aslinda bu satirlari neden yaziyorum, emin bile degilim. Degilim, cunku hic birseyin onemi, sebebi kalmamis...galiba sadece yazmak icin yaziyorum, icimden bu kirli zehiri atmak icin. Cunku dusundukce, kendime olan ofkem buyuyor. Sana karsi hic birsey yok, hic birsey icimde kalmamis...o kadar cok zaman once olmusku hislerim, neden bu kadar uzun sure bu yalani devam ettirttimki? Ben, nasil olurda birinin bana boyle davranmasina izin verdim? Cok kiziyorum kendime cok.

Bastan yanlis degildin. Bastan mukemmeldin. Hersey birer peri masali gibiydi.Hayatimda hic bu kadar mutlu olmamistim. Dualar ediyordum her gece bu mutluluk bitmesin diye. Ama...sonra zaman gecti, guven saglanamadi, vede zaten uc yil icinde cokta sey oldugu kadar, aslinda hic birseyde olmamis. Durmusuz bir zamanda. Ama sonradan yalan, yanlis, zararli oldun. Icimdeki o kadar cok seyi kirmissinki, o kadar cok benim kendime dair sevdigim, onemle buyutup, ilgiyle, ozenle kendime tuttugum, seyleri sokup attin, sondurdun, kirlettin, oldurdun. Simdi o kadar cok bana ait olan seylerim yok. Onlari tekrardan aramakla mesgulum. Yazik bana. Yazik ki kendimden baska birine mutlulugumu baglamayi goze alabilmisim. Ama, soylede birsey var, hic bir regretim yok. Cunku ben kalbimin sesini sonuna kadar dinledim. Pesinden kostum, Sadece beni goturdugu yer mutlulugumun oldugu yer degildi. Cunku sen bunu bana sagliyabilcek kisi degilsin, bunu sagliyabilcek tek kisi benim, bunu ben unuttum.

Ama en kotusu ise, deger verilmemis olmam, hemde hic...hemde ben bu kadar cok deger vermisken. Ama tabi, herkes anliyamicak kadar ince birsey bu. Bunun icin de bunu beklemek cok yanlis. Iste ben en cokta bunu ogrendim. Bana deger verene deger vermeyi, basimin taci yapmayi ogrendim. Degeri hakeden biriyim, ama sadece ben bunu yanlis kisinin, senin eline verdim. Cunku sen bunu anliyamicak kadar kor, sagir vede bilgisizsin. Yazik, gorememisim o hircin askimdan. Herkes bir zaman buyuyor ama. Bende buyudum bunun sayesinde. Ama tabikide, bu canimi benim cok yakti. Yutkunamadigim benim bu. Bir toz parcasi kadar degerimin olmamamis olmasi ve ayakta uyutulmus olmak. Cunku, bu hic haketmedigim birseydi. Hemde hic.

Ama bugun, o kadar mutluyumki. Mutluyum cunku artik ozgur benim olmanin tadini cikarirken, eski, olmak istedigim kisi olma yolunda ozenle, saglam adamlarla ilerliyorum. Tekrar, ben ben oldum. Askindan deli olup, gozum kararip, kaybetmedim kendimi....sensiz tekrar bulup, tekrar mutlu olmaya devam ettim. Cunku beni attigin firtinanin icinde sadece yaralanan ben oldum. Ama olsun, bu yaralar benim magzim, bitmis ama zamaninda benim icin cok buyuk, cok degerli olan askimin yaralari. Ustune, bundan belli bir zaman sonra..eminimki tekrar asik olucam, ve daha once olmadigim ki kadar, daha onceden de daha derine inan bir ask beni bulucak...bu sadece hayatin bir parcasi. Ama o zaman yanlis kisi olmucagi icin, sonu gene ayrilikla bitse, ben kendimden ve mutlulugumdan feragat etmemeis olucagimdan, iste o zaman, hersey cok daha guzel olucak, cunku ilk once o insan benim degerimi bilmis olucak...O yuzdende bu gecen uc yila, tecrube demek dusuyor...ama onun sayesinde seni bu kadar sevmeyi ogrenmis olucam. Buda, bana verilen buyuk bir hediye olucak.

Minnettarim sana.

Death and Mourning

Death is eerie and creepy, it is also a reminder of our own mortality, frailty and vulnerability that we try our hardest to put out of our mind and our societies.

In it's nature we tend to associate both with peace and sadness, time cut short and a purpose fulfilled. We often have conflicted views and feelings about it...we are not quite sure what to do with it as it tends to be an end for us and perhaps a new beginning for those who believe.

Death has fascinated me and well, scared me thoroughly for much of my conscious life. There seems to be an occupation with it somewhere within this tiny vessel of mine.

Why is it that we desire to see people of our kin and friends before they depart for their final destination? We'd like to be there for their needs and do our final part and fulfill our obligations so that our conscious may be clean and rest easy as we lay to sleep at night. All of which are things that we do more for our selves than for the deed of others.

But yet, it leaves us mourning, gets us to think about the potentials that could never be lived and our own eventual demise...the things, people we will be leaving. The surmounted artifacts we have collected over the years, the experience we have collected by making tons of mistakes and the bonds we have deeply forged through pain and laughter...all that we will be eventually leaving, sooner or later, to an unknown world. For some, hell, for some heaven, for some nothing but decaying and rotting. That has to be the most scary part of death. Not knowing. The unknown with it's allusion and charm has the same potency into scaring someone from dying. Who wouldn't? I know I am.

But, why do we mourn after the dead? Do we mourn because of the unharnessed potential of the person who has left us behind, or because we no longer have the access to the soft emotions that the person has created in us, the reliance we have on them. Is it an access issue rather than anything else?

Muses and Motivations

So, I've been thinking about what are motivations and muses. What are they separately and individually, but also how do they differ from one another? What is considered a muse--a job, a person, an inanimate object, a goal in mind, jealousy, competition, the rush of winning? What motivates us though, to keep going to achieve those goals? What keeps us going day in and day out, sun rise after sun rise, how do we keep ourselves from questioning our purpose and the reason we are doing this? How do we continue to justify our reasons for doing the things we do? How do we come to the decision that this can't be let go.

I think in humanity in general, holding on to one thing and preserving something as it is, has to be one of the most difficult things in this life. Starting something can be essentially difficult, but things get started all the time. However to continue that is even so much harder. We change, our experiences change, people surrounding us change, our environments change, political and economical forces change, thus forcing a change in the way we view ourselves and our society as a whole, our own place within that society and the place of the group we belong together at large, altogether. Moods change within the day. How do you continue to foster the very same home, enthusiasm, care, diligence and sensitivity for a long time to come? It's one thing if you're trying to motivate yourself for an exam, an end of semester grade, fitting into a dress for one particular event...but for life time goals that literally take till your very last breath, how do you find a motivation to keep going on and on and on. What makes you get up? What do you find so inspirational to continue and to evolve and tailor the purpose you so adamantly believed in three years ago, although you recognize dramatic changes in your thought and behavior patterns nowadays.


Change isn't always negative. Sometimes change is great as people strive for larger dreams, things that will benefit them in the long run, even if one never gains what she or he seeks, but continues to chase after it as it will keep that said person evolving and keep going towards a greater good for her or his self, personhood, etc. We are bound to change and be a different person in our childhood into the section nowadays called tween, teenage years, early adulthood, adulthood, late adulthood and finally as senior citizens. We all get used up one way or another and sometimes we lose things and sometimes we gain things through the things we've lost. The things we've lost has the very same potential to make us a better person and change us in a positive way as the negativity and the darkness within our souls resides and reverberates. Some changes are necessary as we can't  be the same in our 18 as we were when we were 10. Hormones at the very least dictates so.

Then through all of these different stages of our lives, how do we keep finding different muses and different motivations to keep us going through the tightened rope we walk on as there seems to be an abyss on the other side if we fall.

Salvaging

It feels like, my whole life I've been trying to catch up; catch up to IQ numbers, to classes I've taken, number of books I've read, catching up to job experiences, volunteering and patching up everything that's been getting destroyed in the process of life. Patching up and salvaging my day, my week, my month and year. The lost empathy and my ability to sympathize with people, my credulity, my beliefs, my very torn heart.  I am afraid it takes a lot for me to feel on an emotional level. I used to get all these impulses urges, feelings, constantly...now, where are they? Well, unfortunately either lost somewhere and it's going to be a long time before they return or they've permanently have abandoned me.

At the end, does resilience pay off? Is it worth it? To keep chasing after it, trying to improve, to chase all of these things into the end of eternity before it reverts back and starts over to come into the possession of values and things I deem significant and a must own? Or, is this some sort of sign, a reason to let go and try my hand at something new?

Objectivity in Literature

We're often familiar with the thought process that adamantly proposes that literature is highly subjective and by nature is hard to analyze and difficult to possess qualities that can be ranked and could be criticized.

I disagree. Literature, if it's been done with class, taste and intelligence, if the written proposed pages are true literature can be discussed maturely, accurately, intelligently and objectively. It can be analyzed, criticized and can be redeemed bad or good without being subjective.

Sure, when it comes to reading we all have our own preferences. I dislike harlequin novels, romance novels and novels written with formula fictions, with 1 or two dimensional characters and a plot that's obvious from the title and the book cover, an ending I can guess from the first sentence of the book. That is my own prerogative and my taste. Can I judge the person who reads those books? Absolutely not. It's his or her own choice. But can I define, analyze and judge the written word and deem if it's written well or badly? Absolutely! Now, don't get me wrong. People are free to write whatever they like, people are also free to read whatever they like. But this does not exempt the text from to be analyzed and given a bad grade, just because it's their prerogative to read that book. It is what it is. Literature is meant to be objectively analyzed, and not all books written actually possess literature. Just because it's written, been published and sells well does not make that book a piece of literature or even a good book. People may like it, but it does not make it a good, comprehensive, superb book. So, what do I like? I like classics, I like modern books that are insightful and real, outside of the consumerist carnivorous culture that seems to create a gaping hole in the middle of my soul and brain. Books that can make me think about the modern world and take me to the lives of people who are very unlike me in every aspect possible.

Literature, is highly objective in my eyes. Allow me to explain. Writers, inspired by different generational authors, styles and topics write differently according to their education, experience and mind processes. Most pronounced and widely anthologized writers, most widely analyzed and discussed writers have different and unique styles, with different literary theory school techniques, and the said writers usually focus in one or two similar genres, sub-genres, with certain topics in mind that the author would like to investigate, delve in and discover.  A true writer, will not only captivate you with his or her writing style, different literary techniques used (from symbolism to metaphor, from alliteration to onomatopoeia, from foreshadowing to narration style) but with original characters and a breathtaking world that will make you rethink your own life up to thus far and make you recognize the emotions that you've felt all these times, all these different times but were unable to define and embrace them, the recognition of your own thoughts and emotions in depth, with the addition to the ones you will discover in the said good book (for example, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad). A good book, meaning literature, will make the topic being discussed no matter how mundane or fantastical to appear real, relevant, significant and interesting, even if you're not particularly interested in the topic the writer has written about.

Style, techniques, elements, logic, characters, these can and should be judged without harming the objectivity of the reader or the criticizer. It does not make that person a bad person, a depressed person, a person with a cold heart or without a heart at all. Sure, not many people will like similar topics. For example, topic X could be well liked by audience A while audience B may hate it, but instead like topic Y and it's sub-genres. These are normal as no two fingers are the same in our two hands, yet they belong to the same person, us.

So, is there objectivity in literature? Absolutely yes! Can it define and break books into different categories of books such as good books and badly written books? Yes, it can and it should.

Importance of Resilience

So, just how important is resilience? I guess I should start by asking what is resilience?

Resilience is defined by the dictionary as follows:

noun

1.

the power or ability to return to the original form, position, etc., after being bent, compressed, or stretched; elasticity.

2.

ability to recover readily from illness, depression, adversity, or the like; buoyancy.

But we can hardly go back to an original position after the events we deal with in our lives, from daily to the special occasions. Especially the more challenging and depressive ones. Those also add a depth to our defining and shining moments, the hues always seems to be a little gray, a little blue with a little glory stolen from purple.

One can recover from illness perhaps more easily, but recovering from depression, adversity, challenges, or hitting the rock bottom for example, isn't all that easy and readily. In fact, I question people who can recover from adversities too quickly. Things that are quickly and easily solvable aren't adversities for that person's nature or endurance. We all have different endurance levels. What's easy for one may prove to be quite a challenge. We all have different stamina and the level of pain and sadness one can stand differs from past experiences, rearing and the nature one person adapts as a general philosophy in life. Most of us goes through similar milestones, with similar hardships at certain points in our time defined by our cultures. For example, as a six or a seven year old, we all go through the process of starting kindergarten, or first grade and go through a separation anxiety from or parents and or siblings. Then we grow older and meet bullies we must over come, each to her own, while some may suffer physical abuse, the other may suffer mental, while another's bully just might be herself. Then high school is a phase we're all too familiar with in 2011. We all have heard of teen angst and have been through it ourselves in one point or another. Most of us go through college admissions process and the undergraduate experience of living alone for the first time and learning to get by. Then comes serious relationships, marriages, kids, retirement and within those many similar milestones. While some experience divorce, infertility, lay offs, difficult of acquiring a job, a nonexistent love life, mid-life crisis, family problems, crisis of faith, loneliness, depression, apathy, over-sympathy....the list goes on. But each one of us are affected different by these events that occurs roughly throughout the modern world in the first world countries. It's the reaction we give to these events that separates us from the rest of the statistics, the bulk of humanity that gives us our voices and identities back as Jack, Jill, Joe, Jane and the rest.

So then, what is resilience? The question remains. It's the effort to not hit rock bottom, it's the ability to show the effort that you don't want to hit rock bottom and the ability to foster hope for a future where maybe you could create the opportunity for yourself to accomplish some of your most important goals, like getting a good education, fostering personal growth, acquiring a job, financially securing yourself and the other dreams that comes along with the individuals that we are. For me, it would be to have read all of the British, American, French, German, Russian, Turkish and Persian classics. Now, will I ever be able to achieve that? It's hard to tell at this point. I tell myself, I'm still young and will have many years to accomplish that list, at least partially. Will I ever have that time? Our time here is limited at best, and at worst we never know when we'll be leaving this place. So I might not have a long life and instead die tomorrow and all of this talk and thought could have been in vain; yet I still don't see this useless. It's all that much more important to have been left with impressions of the world and the mind and to have left your own impression on the world, on someone else, deeply enough to be remembered many years from today.


How important is it? I think it's very important not to give up and grow too content (I am an adamant fighter for contentment in our lives) with the settling we're doing in our lives, and growing accustomed to the way bad things are with no effort to fix them. It's hard to create habits, it's even harder to break those habits. It's important to establish a good routine to show resilience and to want more out of yourself, your life and to have the resilience to get through the difficulty in our individual lives for better tomorrows as eternity is always promises to those who believe in one form or another.

Bozulan hayatlar

Cok korkuyorum, ama elimde degil. Kurdugum butun duzenleri teker teker hayat hep sarsti, bozdu ve ben hep amaclarima ulasirken, cok seyi kaybettim, yada ulasmak uzereyken, elimden kayip gitti hedeflerim. Onca zaman, emek, o kadar planlama, sonunda hepsi hic birseye goturmedigi de cok oldu...tabi calismadanda hic birsey elde edinemedigimi vurgulamak lazim. O zaten benim icin hic bir zaman bir secenek degil. Islerim ben ugrasinca bile olmuyor, ugrasmayincayi...sen dusun. Bu sefer alt ust olursa bu duzen, bunun altindan kalkamam ben. Kaldiramam bu kadar cok uzun sure calisipta, tek yapabildigim sey sadece tekrar yeniden baslamak. Yap boz degil hayatim. Her ne kadar oyle bir olmus olsa bu zamana kadar, artik yas ilerledikce, bazi seylerin telafileri bir o kadar da zor oluyor. Tekrar tekrar, bir dik yokusu, tepesinden uc adim onceden yerin sarsilmasi, depremde herseyin yerli bir olmasina benziyor bu. Ve galiba, bu sefer donusu olmayan bir yola girdim. Bu beni mum gibi eritip bitiricek.

Ne hayaller kurmustum bu kis icin, bu yaz icin, hic biri hayal olmaktan cikamicak. Hepsi birer defterde yazilan ve sonradan sadece avutulmak icin okunan satirlardan ibaret olucak. Gene hersey kaldi bir sonraki yillara...

Galloping horses

There is not much to say other than to state the fact that my list of things to do does not diminish in the least bit. At all. The problem is I hate rushing through it when the opposite helps me learn much better, digest it and come to terms with the material I am working.

That aside, which will be worked on better next week and hopefully will set in a stoned schedule where there will be little changes. I used to be happy working at Subway, when I first started working there. No more. With Tony's return everything returned back to it's original stress level with annoyance under my skin. He is no good for the morale, the atmosphere and even the motivation of his works. He has unrealistic expectations of what one worker could possibly achieve during an eight hour shift. The only left to do is to persevere under these circumstances

Blurs

When waking up early in the morning, when it's fall, it always feels colder than it really is. Spending an extra hour in the bed is a goal most of us strive for. To curl up in our warm bed and the blankets twirled around all the way to our ankles, safely cocooning us and holding onto the dream world for a few longer minutes.

When staying late up at night and falling asleep though, everything seems to gradually grow warm and at it's apex is when one finds herself fallen asleep on her couch with her book on her hand, once tightly, now loosely held, barely preventing it from falling on the floor. Book is sacred. Or we seep into our bed, softly as the night turns into morning and the sleeplessness slowly overtakes us.

In those times between reality and sleep, blurring between imagined and lived, fiction and truth, sincerity and lies, life seems a little simpler, sweeter and a lot less overbearing. Life blurs, thoughts blurs and when you write long enough, your sketches sometimes goes in the wrong notebook, just like this blog post, observations from the past seeps into today and your thoughts swirl around on the sky like some sort of message you weren't able to see before.

The morning appears differently from my window then it is actually outside. It's threatening, criminal and abandoned with the trashy street lamp right across my window, reminiscent of a third grade slasher movie. It looks hostile to the idea of a new day and the hope that is associated with the beginning of a new day is missing from the little perspective out of my apartment into the world.

The night, instead of being so potent, incriminating and vast, looks dwindled, dissipated and harmless. It looks no bigger than a veil, a black ruby curtain that seems poetic and partial. It looks conquerable and paled out with the dingy lighting outside of my window, slowly sleeping in through the blinds, diffracted by the window panels further and further until it's a tiny dot on my carpet that never ceases to be out of small red spots. The moon, never visible, trapped within my own excitement and prejudices without the ability to overcome them.

So, too the writing blurs. Observations end up on my blog post, while lines of dialogue, character information, plot lines end up in my observations notebook. My latest poem on my journal and a story on my poetry journal. Resilience seems further flexible than the connotation it sings off when used in plain usage. Essays in my fiction and poetic lines in my research, who would have thought? Well, any writer I would assume.

Cost of Freedom

It's an awfully awkward topic to think about kind of early in the morning, but my head is full and my heart has profoundly grown, stretched and there is so much in there that I am having difficulty catching up,sifting, sorting and understanding what it is that I am feeling and what's going on in there. There are a lot of misleading changes and things that even surprise me, as shocking as that sounds to me. I've always thought I've got myself figured out pretty well. This inability to recognize all of me, all of my emotions and the new reactions I've been giving to things, the new perspective I've seem to adapt formally and without cognizance has lead me to believe that I am in transitional and in an experimenting phase.

I guess I've just went off on another tangent. Freedom, the ability to do what you want, when you want and not have to report back to someone or justify your actions or thoughts to someone else is a Freedom most of us don't know the taste of. As most of us live with other people and there are other people we are bound by responsibility or the affection of love, perhaps even familial bonds which require us to inform them.

To change around, to stay out late, to be free from judgement and to reason to stay at a bar a little longer, or to get out of an environment as you like and wish...When attached these things come to hinder us in the small ways we've all learned to cope with (I shouldn't say all, as I seem to still have a problem with this).

Being alone doesn't bother me as much as it bothers other and in order to pay the price of that freedom in small and sometimes larger scales (that I find essential to growth, understanding and also so very addicting) that I've lost a good chunk of my patience and tolerance for people's stupidity and their problems. A lot of the problems people go through (no surprise there, as one should know from their own life) but I've seem to care a lot less about it, so therefore we can deduct that I've lost my ability to sympathize. Does that make me less human? Does that make me a less of a good person? These questions await their answers just like everything else in my life.

But I like having to wake up without having to explain and without having to rationalize the way I think, the way I feel, the way I do things and arrange them, what I tend to do with my time. I like having to start to clean-slate day with already things I'm itching to do (for example, writing this blog and the reorganizing of my library) and having the freedom to do what I want in the time, where I go and whether or not if I'd like to tag along to someone else. It's great to be with friends whom you love and can have a good time. It's great to be able to have that person(s) to share what is in your heart and mind, the things you discover along the bike path, a new coffee shop, a new lake where your heart seems to soar. People fall into loneliness if that can't be done and I wasn't always this way. A younger version of me was very eager to have as many friends as possible, to surround herself with all the right kinds of people and spend every night with some friend, somewhere. Sure, I miss family and friends and love having a good time with a small group of my friends as the next person. I've never thought I was that different and anti-social. I don't think I am. However, alone time, quiet time, time to myself, time to be me, seems like a far greater treat than constantly being in the presence of others. I like being able to discover by myself all that much more and when the time comes to revisit that place once again with the people that matter to me.

Mondays

It's a sleepless Monday morning where I'm determined to go back to my regular daily routine, although the lazy side of me just wants to curl up on my warm bed and sleep away until early afternoon.

Regardless of the obstacles overcame and the financial stress pressured on me in the second half of the previous week, the week goes and that means I must get back to my daily living before I suffer any more damage both to my soul and mainly to my motivation to keep moving forward to achieving those goals of mine that I always draw near and not always successfully accomplish.

Starting from last Thursday my life has been some sort of a crazy freak roller coaster that has left me without a breath, a large sum of debt and an immense stress, not to mention of not doing one single task item on my list. All of this sounds negative enough to compel me to go back to bed and pretend the world doesn't exist and sink into my new lows. It's more compelling than just writing it on this blank white internet space. Because simply, it would be easier to just let go. But the debt is not going to go away on its own (considering the number of things in need of paying never ceases, rather increases) the stress is only going to grow considering the incriminate weather I'm experiencing and the tasks are going to pile up and I'm going to mourn-after-the-fact for not doing them on time and have a gaping hole in my mind wondering why the hell did I not get off my butt and do them at a timely manner where I could have accomplished much. So there we have it.

It's a Monday, meaning it's the perfect day to start a weekday where it can lead to a robust, efficient and fulfilling week if I seek to see the warm sunshine and the great many ideas that came over as I was thinking over in order to fall asleep. At the end, today could be a very useful day of the week.

Pains, Hospitals, Insurance and Medication

Just like millions in this world, I too hate being sick, vehemently. But when you get sick, there are only a few limited options left which are only better of the worst evils at hand. What I hate more than being sick is having tooth or ear related problems, pains and aches. There is almost no way to endure through them, only to suffer through them and hope that it goes away soon. Almost always tooth and ear aches are more than just pains and leads to more expensive treatment as such it is in my case.

I hate hospitals, I hate doctors, I hate emergency rooms, I hate my blood being withdrawn in large quantities that it leaves me nearly breathless. I hate that I have to extract my wisdom teeth, I have to take antibiotics for a while, and there is a big question for the future of my teeth and ear. This was the last thing I needed in these times of turmoil.

To remain thankful, regardless though, this is my lesson in the world of my fictive imagination and sorrowful heart. Regardless of things, to be breathing, to be dreaming, to be striving and well the general we always take granted for like, having a home, food and clothing to shelter and sustain us through warm summers and chilly winters. These are big things that we forget to be thankful for. Especially for the people who don't have these to rely on. Someone without food will find all other problems of my irrelevant and someone who doesn't have a home to protect her from the troubles, difficulties dirty challenges of the world to a safe and secure haven.

Abundance of Time

Abundance of Time...such a comparative term. It all started with the idea of having several stable constants in one's life, life a regular occurring work shift. Considering I work Monday through Thursdays and often vigorously for eight hours a shift, it occupies much of my four days a week where I must get things done by two in order to have a sane and capable, also productive shift at work. After all, my work is both physically and mentally demanding as I must remember about a billion things to do without a list and well, dealing with customers is just the icing on the cake, who never seem to be pleased with anything at all, or they're always ungrateful.

So, it's always the weekday that I scramble through, rushing from one task to the next, but I get things done. Even if not everything on my list, most of it gets done. That's because I know I don't have the time and I either do it now, or can't do it at all (because I won't have the time later on and at night when I come home it's too late and I am way too tired to do it), so I suck it up and do it and usually end up enjoying pretty much all of it, at the very least partially. So with limited time, we usually try to do the most of it, knowing it is limited and we've got appointments and things to do. But when we have abundance of time, we end up stalling or doing other things and end up doing little things, accomplishing nothing and rather end up having a stress stroke because a lack of done things on my list.

So, is having no obligations to fulfill, no responsibilities to acquire, is that good for self growth and self development? Can we actually go on to open up our visions and deepen our thoughts on life and our own personalities without other things going on in our lives to enrich our souls?  Can we grow without complication and obstacles? As a writer can't simply write sitting on her bed without looking at the window and how that view gets complicated by other experiences, we can't grow as human beings without some sort of dilemma and other things that pushes our limits.

Abundance of time isn't the thing that simply makes us grow. It's what comes along in that time that makes us grow. It's the  limits that we must push beyond to unfold and make ourselves in the shape we would like to be without losing the sight of what we have always held dear and what we always wanted to establish.

Uninterrupted Reading

Uninterrupted reading is the only true way to read at least for me. A clean, well-lighted place that is comfortable and a safe haven from the interruptions and challenges of life, but keeping reality at bay, just removing it's immediate threats from the reading process.

Reading by the window with the help of natural sun light and a comfortable mug at hand, filled with hot coffee, every once in a while after taking a sip of black coffee and looking up and taking the view in, thinking about the language of the book. There must be a comfortable large chair or a couch where I can snuggle up and get lost into the world of the book without switching, being stifled or feeling overcrowded and no legs falling asleep either.With that, well, we I can read for a long time to come, getting lost in the fictive world, turning the page one after another, delightfully delectable.

mm, and what a wonderful time it sounds like. Only if I could always be reading all the books I want to read without time restrictions or having to worry about having to fit stuff in before such a time because I have to be at work in the afternoons. Reading far into the night sounds so electrfyingly pleasing right now that, it's all I can think about and how short of that dream is from becoming realized once again.

Steady Does It

Today was a reminder of the days gone past and not in the good way where it's reminiscing of the good ol' days gone.  There is no wonder I've been depressed and felt the weight of the world and multiply that by two. I had been shackled--chained so hard and tight, unable to wonder off...to breathe, couped up in my apartment, without seeing the blue skies, inhaling the fresh air, cut off from everything that is human and emotionally inspiring. Everywhere I went, every turn I took lead me to another dead end with a greater disappointment and no smiling face to encourage me to do better. Instead it encouraged to be ashamed of myself, grow uncomfortable in my own skin and mind, imprisoning me further into the depths of hell. Questioning my own purpose and beginning to feel like there was no reason for my existence at all. Psychological hell is so shattering to the human psyche, to the mind, and physically debilitating at the end that you are just awful. You're no different than the log that's lying on the ground.

The Worst Monday

And it's the wrong way to start the day, the week, late, heaved, derailed, melancholy, home, sleepy and regretful.

So, instead, just few hours away from work, instead of finishing I should have finished, I'm left with this gaping hole of failure, a voice screaming inside my head "see, I told you so. You can't keep it up". It's fall, my favorite season, it's raining and gray, my favorite weather and my favorite person is on to talk to me and...here I am...moping and feeling sorry for myself, trying to reason that it's justifiable, probable and that I can catch up.

How wonderful it is to actually do things again after a weekend of not doing anything in particular. Yesterday night, I partially did my list of things to do as I had a solemn promise to myself to do a ton of reading (which as of yet have only read several pieces of poetry an an essay, along with news articles) and no writing whatsoever (except a mini blog entry and a mini journal entry). This morning though, waking up a little earlier (still late though) getting through laundry, my vocab, grammar readings, dream journal, journal, blog, essay reading, poetry reading....and I am on a roll and it's not even two in the afternoon. With just my reading and writing left to do...I feel good today, unlike the past two days of just dealing with house work and going out :)

It's a wonderful fall day here, it's sunny but crisp, I have a cup of hot coffee that fills my home with a roasted smell that is to die for. Irem and I bought Halloween/Fall themed decorations from Target :) We filled them with popcorn and more and more, everyday my apartment feels like a home.It's grown comfortable, cozy and warm. With the orange pumpkin door-mat, Frankenstein (improperly named) candy dishes, a pumpkin lantern, towels decorating every inch of my tiny kitchen. My laundry folded, I am happy today. Sitting on the floor, sipping from my coffee and with a conference call over Skype going on, my hot water on the stove, the hissing sound brings comfort to my soul, reassuring me I'm home once more. Dickens, await my return from the Arbotoreum to fall into your possessive and eloquent language, where my heart resonates and finds it's home in it's nooks of commas and words like thither, hither.

Happiness comes in small packages, only just as fleetingly.

Veterans' Museum

Sometimes it's hard to remember the past and acknowledge you've been wronged and you've wronged.I guess it's as natural as it comes in human nature, but it's a whole different issue when it comes to actually dealing with it's heavy burden. I don't know how many hours for how many years I've thought about this very same topic. For way too many hours for a very long time. Unfortunately there is no short, precise cut answers. There is no formula as cliche as that is. Righting wrong is even more difficult to manage as you can never go back in time and pretend something that is broken, isn't broken. Once a vase is broken, it's broken no matter how much you glue it together. Memories...the sting they carry, the way they creep up on you in your dreams, to haunt you in your waking hours and to wound you as the present carries it's momentum, blurs and lack of hindsight to further put you into trouble, missing it's significance altogether. The only that emerges is that love can be, is often sacrificed and should be in the bigger picture of the things that seems to lie behind us and will be revealed throughout the course of the time as we, ourselves unfold.

Yakup, I miss you.

Full Circles

And I've come back a full circle. I've ended exactly where I started off three and a half years ago. It seems like my life (like everyone else's) is just a repetition of themes that has been decided long ago. The invisible hand of the free market seems to have moved into my personal market of miseries, sorrows and lessons to be learned and relearned.

So what is different from the last time I stood at the beginning of the circle, started to draw a wider circle than before. Which inevitably, this time around the circumference will be larger. There aren't many changes, usually they're minor exception of one big thing; I'm on my own now; sometimes it makes a little difference, sometimes it makes a world of difference.

Yesterday night, there was melancholy in reminiscence. I am not particularly fond of realizing the one thing I wanted to hold on to just slipped through my very hands, eroding as I paraded it around in my hands for everyone to see.It was bitter to come into recognition and realize what I have lost cannot be replaced ever, or replenished as the well has long been dried up beyond repair or leaving any hope for a possibility of recovery.

So then, what is left and what do I do? Particularly not much. I learn from my mistakes, wait until my bruises fade away and continue to gallop around my widening but more threatening circles of life, themed far beyond my plotting and without the ability of my interventions.

Fall Outs

I guess the last time I had a bad fall out with an ex was when I was very young and madly in love with Fait. I worked differently and I was seething with anger then. With time, that erased and nothing but a fond memory was left, not that we had  much to go on, which lead me to let go in the first place.

I guess the next guy was a little rough too as I was the one that wanted to break away in the first place as well. We don't talk anymore but exception of those two, I've always remained on friendly, at the very least civil terms with my exes where I kept their numbers, facebook accounts and kept on living my life as usual without any difficulties or interruptions. I didn't have a fall out, fights or grown paranoid over it.

It's sad and very disappointing that it has come to this, especially when you hold a person in a dear light and then things kind of crumble down and everything melts away enough to change your understanding and perception of that person.

Since when is judgement towards a person who is living their life the way they want to, to the fullest in their belief is passable and sickening? I can't really describe the hurt these words have left behind, but I keep marching to my own drum....that I have to. Considering that I am not doing illegal, self destructive, illicit and dangerous behavior, not adopting any strange and awkward, threatening friends, my mind set not growing narrower, why is it so bad I've decided to go on about life, doing things differently than the norm, however the way I want to do them. Not because I just want to be different, but truly because this is the way I am and how I see the world.

I am not particularly used to Fall outs, even with Mesut and three years with him. We just continued on to our own lives as we used to before. I am sure if I called him today for a favor or needed his help with something, as long as that was within his doable limits, he would do them for me, which was proven when I called him for a ride after taking some of Ozlem's stuff.

But on, we must go. It's sad and I am hurt, I take he is even more hurt, but we all much do what we individually must do. I am trying to settle into life and go further than I've ever been before and accomplish the goals I've set myself long ago.

It's Just a Wednesday

Well, first off, I am starving so my thinking is hindering at the moment and I just wanted to get these journal and blog writing out of the way before noon so I could focus on my novel and my plotting of the story I seem to be smitten right now. Get 'em down while they're fresh. To be buzzing with ideas and feelings and feeling like my brain is working again, which is better than most rewards I could have been given.


Getting a later start than I've been accustomed to in the last few months, things are a little off today. I am not physically feeling great today either, however, I am blowing through my list like the hurricane that ruined all of my traveling plans and adjustments and ended up having me pay so much more money and gone through more sordid problems than I would have other wise.


A second job search is ensuing as I hope something will turn out soon. I hope so for the sake of being able to sleep comfortably again and meeting my own deadlines. If I don't end up doing what I wanted to do for New Year's I'm afraid that 2012 is going to be more horrid yet, at least I would start with a hateful, wretched and unhappy year, that's a guarantee.

Milwaukee, just a few days more.

Rise Before the Sun

I do hope this waking up early, holds a stick this time around for much, much longer than my usual roundabout. I've been waking up even before the sun decides to wake up for the day, recently (when I say recently, I mean for the past two months or so) consistently which is giving me all this extra boost of energy, confidence, morale and well, see the endless number of things I plow through my list of things to do at incredible speeds. All this, I even before to work at 3:00 p.m. So the energizer bunny continues. Well, I can tell you what a delight this all has been. At times, I even find myself shocked at my own changing habits or the durability of the habits I've been able to create. I am still hoping for them to persist far into the future. Regardless of the whys, hows and what not, I am glad it has. It has given me a whole new canvas and vibrant pastel colors to live my life through.

For the first time in what feels like forever, however the timing is about 2 or 3 years or so, it feels like I am actually living, doing, achieving and succeeding, growing closer rather than noticing the objects on the moon have changed their positions ever so slightly, the color of the hovering sky has grown darker or lighter and ex post facto that days have changed on the calender leaves, but leaving without a satisfying day. Days have just accumulated and been erased from my life. I had endured that for the last three years, give or take. But to have this instead is firstly a delight and secondly a gift. A gift that's extremely sacred and perishable at the same time one. One I fear of losing once again as I've found it.


I've caught onto my blend of happiness, oh and how very addictive it is (more addictive than a good cup of Turkish Coffee with Turkish delights on the side), I'm barely able to keep that all to myself. I can hardly contain myself. Well, I am out to explore and let the world change me and let the sun shine on me.


Hello world,
Hello life

Adventures of Self Goals

I've been recently out exploring some of the places I've always told myself that I will go and pay a visit at least once while I am here. In the past week that's been true somewhat as I've entered for the first time into the Froth House, Ma Chai Tea House and Gallup Coffee House along with Orange Tree Imports. I'd say that's a pretty good deal for one week with enough money spending. It's good to be out there and finally realizing some silly, little goals that's been set a long time ago with never having had the chance to actually do them. It feels good to do things no matter how small or big. It's true missing the big opportunities can dampen the mood and leave one, especially me pretty down feeling like the biggest failure around the world. But small things add up gradually over time and rather becoming a part of a (my) persona. See, unlike the one time, big dose of good or bad that cuts through like a knife in your personality, the little things have a way of climbing up the ladder and leaving a longer lasting effect perhaps. So while at large things are not looking so great for me (as that second job is needed ASAP), it's also a good thing that there are many positive things that I hope will keep me grounded enough to complete the goals I'm striving for.



Froth house isn't as great as it looks from the outside, however the couches by the large window pane are amazing, and if you end up there before or after the high schoolers' lunch rush, you should be at least having a productive and a comfortable time there. It's a whole different deal while high school is out in lunch; unfortunately there is very little they can do about this considering the neighborhood and the approximity of the school to the cafe.

Ma Chai Tea offers a comfortable, silent and an eccentric atmosphere with high cost tea that seems hardly worth it. The tea is no better than Froth house which is just 1.87 for a cup while at this tea house it's near four bucks. I found that a little annoying considering how tight the economy is for everyone. But I got some serious work done with the quiet and silent pretty strictly imposed, broken once or a few times.

Gallup Coffee House was excellent. Irem and I thought it was a great price for the product with a homey environment that seems to warm up the very center of your creative juices. This is not my first time in truth, but rather had bad memories in there that needed exorcising and now created anew, fresh and blank page it's set to create many wonderful  and happy memories.

Orange Tree Imports ended up being my shopping place all things  Halloween decorations. I am not sure if I'll be able to actually afford buying more Halloween decorations, however I did buy a pack of glass jewels, a Happy Halloween sign and an awfully cute glass pumpkin witch candle holder that might just complete the entire holiday for me with some pumpkin carving, pies and lattes :)

Dissipating Ideas

I opened up my blogspot page long before I actually decided to write on here. I had this marvelous idea to write about moments before I clicked on my blogger tab and then voila, the second I've pressed it, all ideas have dissipated into thin air.

I realize that if I don't write things as they come to me, I have a tendency to lose them, quite quickly or unable to call them is a constant haunter of mine. I've been working hard on a story for the past few days. I am not sure how long it will eventually be, I am not remotely near actually writing the draft, but outlining. You know the time consuming, but significantly essential brainstorming where the story develops and where there is a story to the story. Yeah, that. It's been rather great to delve in this particular world though. Incredibly different than mine.

So here we are. I have today and tomorrow's my last work day. I am desperate to get a check from my work though, I would love to pay my rent. That's a pretty good thing to do with my Credit Card coming with me everywhere I go and the bill I'm dreading to pay. It would be good to have cash now.

I've been reading Dickens for the past two weeks. It's quite a change of pace from the other books I've read mostly this summer. My goal is to have read all of Dickens' classics by the end of the year.

P.S. there is nothing like taking a brief walk under the sun with blue skies as autumn approaches with the rustling of the green leaves that are just about getting ready to turn into different colors and then withering away for the winter. A healthy dosage of reality and optimism in one neat shot.


Edit: I feel like I just can't express myself enough lately. There is always something that's being left unsaid, undone, unlived, unfelt. I am brimming with feelings, ideas and this incipience of things to happen (things I am not ready, but here they are, within my core. I don't remember anyone asking me about this. Do they ever?) and yet, I can't exactly pinpoint towards what it is that I am feeling, thinking, though it feels I am still focused enough and not confused. ( It's a good thing to be not confused) yet...Something is not truly out. Things have settled...a little. I am still trying to reestablish a solid routine here that won't break easily under most circumstances and to return back to a normal life (I'm finding that difficult to do despite the fact that that's the only thing I've been working towards), but getting pulled in to problems and dark times just feels too easily. I could just plop down and well, problems, confusion, darkness and depression are there to catch me in it's tight bosom that doesn't like to let go once it attains you. So where does this leave me? No where particularly. I am not close to anything. I have determined a set of goals (yay, success) however I have at least a whole year to go to before I could achieve any one of these things (more waiting and my patience is wearing thin) I am optimistic and working hard towards those goals but it really feels like I'm marching on my old beaten path and it feels like all of my attempts will fall short again. But then I keep finding myself saying, if I could get over this..I know this time. So hopefully that incessantly nagging sounds will be actualized by self prophecies and I won' be in this corner feeling like a mouse.

The difference of people at work

So returning back to an old job definitely wounds one's pride and ego. Coming back to the place you've left, but having your employer always gracious enough to accept you again to their midst. It bruises ego incredibly.  I didn't have much of a choice as the rent needs paying. However, there is something different this time around. This time around, it's not me that's tired, drained, rushing to complete things with this heavy bulk on my shoulders and my inability to breathe. This time, it's them with the problems they haven't figured out and have grown too tired to overload anyone else. The prep work has gone down which leaves me with a lot less stress to finish through the shift. How much of a difference the number of things to do on your list makes. It gives that sense of things could be managed and I don't have to overwhelm myself everyday. What a wonderful treat this becomes. Secondly, we have a missing person that I believe has made all the difference in the store atmosphere and tone. Everyone is a little bit more relaxed, things seem a little bit more comfortable and no arrogance to bother you throughout the shift.

It's true, I don't enjoy going into my shift. But at least I don't dread it, which in a store like this is a great surplus. It's all due to the fact that one particular person isn't around. Well, my heart flutters at this opportunity to work virtually stress-free in comparison to my prior experience with this store.

You know we always say, well if you're unhappy with your work and you're not personally satisfied at the job you're doing, then well, quit. To say "quit" nowadays carried a potent reaction within people. Sure, some of us have the ability to quit. Not having a pay check come in every week doesn't push them to the line of poverty and starving. However, there are many people who literally live pay check to pay check, so quitting isn't an option for them, unless they have already filed their next job, which is hard to come by these days. Unemployment rates are high and social mobility has been going down for many Americans across the country. So, the old sayings, at least currently holds to be untrue. People now have to endure their difficult and draining work positions because there is no hope to have something better instead, or to find it quickly.

So we're left to stay where we are, marching and treadding the same earth until, well, until what? Until government gets better? Until we better ourselves? And just how exactly do we do that?

Yakupcugunla konustugu icin cok mutlu :D


Umuyorumki Allah Yakup'u benim hayatimdan hic sokup almaz. O olmazsa, ben naparim? Kim benim kabuslarimla savasmamam icin guc vericek. Kim onun kadar beni anliyor ki? Hayatimin gunesi gibi, hep parlayip, her daim beni mutlu edip, icimi rahatlatip, gulduren bir insan. Tertemiz kalpli, sicacik bir gulusu var, ahlakli, ve insanlar kiymetini, degerini bilip, duzgun davranan, dunyada cok nadir bulunan insanlardan bir. Duam, hayatimdan hic kaybolmamasi.

Cosmic Reasons, Innate Confidences

I hope there is some sort of cosmic reason as to why I'm still up. Irem's already asleep, tightly curled up on my bed, warm and safe there, though a bit uncomfortable as my reading lights are diffracted on the wall and find their way into her eyes. The image bothers me a little, but I must do what I need to...or so I am hoping a motto like that exists somewhere with quite the tolerance.


Why am I here, again, after such a small break? Usually, on nights like these I prefer to write into my journal, keep it tucked away in my red bin where no one ever even spots it. After the entry is done, even I forget about it. After all, what is a few thousand entries like that in the journal of a basket case like me? Anyway, I wanted to write and here's the relief cream to the itch.

We can say I've had a long day. At least a full day. Unfortunately things are not looking up for me. There is no positive picture to hang on my wall and glance at it every time one little thing goes wrong. On the other hand, there are plenty of negative pictures constantly undermining any step further, a positive line, a warm smile or even a genuine thought. Often, it feels like the universe is trying to discourage me from, well basically doing anything in my life or living with a solid purpose, (one of the many I'd love to have) that I'm passionate about. Circles are the message here, the theme, the symbolism, the metaphor and well, the point of this whole damn Blog.

Things are not only up in the air, therefore chaotic, but it's like a labyrinth not only inside my mind (not to mention the huge emptiness I feel inside, or more correctly, nonexistence of any feeling thereof to mention, other than physical clues to my physical well-being) but so is each circumstance. I think of my environmental factors and circumstantial blocks as ribbons, red ribbons to be precise. The problem is that actually only a few are directly linked to me of which only few I've tugged on with a pinky finger, but these red ribbons seem to form a perfect circle by tightly holding hands with one another and coming to jab me with it about from a million and perhaps more possible sources. Those darn ribbons! They're solid and flexible. No matter where I try to tackle the problem at, any solution I find, they find a way to nestle there and create more obstacles, further disabling me from being a human being that can function at her capacity. I don't want to be brilliant, I just want to function in the capacity I should be. Not under it. If there is one thing I truly despise that is probably lazy people and just having a grand old lazy life. I am about ready to X this post and never let a pair of human eyes look at it ever again. Perhaps cockroaches would enjoy it more in paper format for something of a snack.

I am stuck in the tightest rut hole I've ever been in (and I've been in plenty of them before, all pretty darn tight, and here I am with the tightest where my lungs can't expand enough for a full breath. I've learned to live with breathing through my nose only with huffs and puffs instead) and well, unless some sort of miracle or something just short of that doesn't happen, I doubt anything will get better. But yet, for the first time since about almost three years now, I have my old and what I used to think very innate confidence. I had never worried before I had moved to Wisconsin, I've learned to worry out here, in the neck of the woods (I've always linked it with/ blamed it on my awareness of my own situation actually being awake and functioning, rather than blindly living as I believe I've used to do) I have that foolish innate confidence that keeps me smiling throughout the day, once or twice just enough to get me home to a misery crash in front of my journal or on my laptop. I feel like things are going to go right for me this time around and I'm actually throwing large rocks towards the bottom of an endless lake where I keep praying I'll just throw enough that an island will emerge built on the rocks I've so vehemently thrown in there a phase or two ago. That pretty much summarizes the entire situation without naming any specifics, as if I actually needed to point out the obvious and banal. While I've learned to worry more, it also seems that I've recaptured some of my old resilience and spark to actually go out, put myself out there and do things I might not have had the courage (or had that courage crippled, namely...I am not going to do this game again though). It feels well pretty good to be blatant. But it also feels like home, reassuring and entrenching seeds of hope into my once fertile and virile, but now scorched and impotent soil. I guess time will tell. Hopefully it won't pass too quickly where I'll end up with empty palms once again.

Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka no doubt has had an interesting life. Also his stories such as the "Judgement", "The Hunger Artist" and his novella the "Metamorphosis" are amongst his most known stories, also the ones that has been critically acclaimed at the same time.

Kafka has an interesting style that's harder to come across with in comparison to say authors like, Woolf, Joyce, Austen, Dickens, Hemingway, Salinger. I am not saying these authors are bland, but it's a lot easier to run into people who write like Hemingway, Salinger, Dickens and Austen than it is to come across more writing like Kafka's. No doubt getting his doctorate in law and being an insurance agent has influenced his writing structure. Law, regardless of where it is conceived, practiced and executed tends to be detailed, hefty and, well a daft language use. It is also dry at the same time with extra formal sentences, structure and long, never ending prepositional sentences that sometimes we forget the predicate. Sometimes that's how it feels like when reading Kafka's stories.

No doubt, I loved his novella the "Metamorphosis". I think it's quite an interesting idea and the use of apples in the story relating back to the original sin are quite interesting to add. However, some of his other writings have kept me ... well, wandering about other things. He is rather fond of repetition in the most bland and blatant way sometimes that could be offensive rather than creating patterns...at least that's how it felt to me.

But Kafka is still a writer I enjoy, someone I hold with the utmost respect and find his ideas on law and punishment quite interesting, especially the way these two underlining ideas create different themes and mood for his stories.

Post Labor Day

Now that labor day long weekend is over, it's back to routine and normalcy. Or so, what we have of it.

Today started off good, waking up early and getting to my studies. I'll go and talk to a few people about jobs today while I'll roam around to look for new jobs. Hopefully I'll be able to land one..or two to take care of the financial crisis I am in and can't seem to be able to get out of. But if I do get out of it, ah, how wonderful life would be and I can learn to relax finally. Well, all is but a hope.

Now, the only I am hoping for is positive feedback from my job search. This is crucial.In times like these, I'm humbled and relearn the meaning of humility.  I think most humans, eventually realize that hard work, with a great charming smile and that sleek charisma gets you to open many doors that might other wise never have admitted you. But sometimes the solutions we imagine and crack open our heads to get out of the candid situations we're in are useless or always out of reach due to a large hovering ominous obstacle that lays flat on our path to simply put success and happiness. Sometimes none of the solutions we come up with does anything, regardless of endless hours of work we put in, the studious habits we create and the diligence we show in enduring through the daily schedule we painstakingly create in the first place, rain or shine. Sometimes when things are not meant to be, they are not meant to be and even though we pray thoroughly from the bottom of our heart and work extremely hard to realize a goal--it just doesn't happen. And sometimes all there is to blame is the circumstances. Because sometimes we do all there is to do.  Unfortunately there are no guarantees of getting repaid for your hard work. So what do you do then? Well, I unfortunately don't have the answer, hence I am still straddled in the situation I've just so elaborately discussed, possibly to the point of beating the horse dead. Recently I was at the point of giving it all up and damning it to hell. But then, I realized, of course quite miraculously over in my dreams that that's all I would be doing for the rest of my life, a bit too depressive and repetitious for my liking. As much as I like daily routines to further my knowledge in academic areas, by no means do I like monotone and I seek change quite often. Probably more often than your average Jane Doe. It's not the kind of life I want for myself, that's for quite sure. So the only path to go on is the one I've been treading, working at it until it gets better, because unless I do something it's not going to get better on it's own anyway. So with that as my only option left, what else am I to do? Of course to get up and look for jobs as I keep my research and academic work.

Renewing Routines

Just when I thought at least I had my morning routine down. Well, we both overslept a little. But it looks like I'm going to have to change my morning routine at the very least by including some sort of physical activity in it. My back aches and the soreness of my legs have pushed me thus far and I might as well turn a bunch of lemons into a even more bitter lemonade that's healthy for me.

I've been feeling a little better for the past few days as I've felt horrible at nights as the dusk sets down and the melancholy finds it's nest within my soul. I am not sure why, but usually it's because the mornings are full or promise and, yes, I am going to use the word ripe. Our mornings are hectic and by three a lot of things has been accomplished. The rest well then, opens up to imagination, giving room to think about a lot of positive and the negative, thus leaving me with a vulnerability. I am not going to suggest to myself that I just make myself more busy so that I can just not think about it. I know very well that never is going to be the resolution. I've tried it and it only lead me to the bigger mistakes of my life. It doesn't work for me specifically, but it also doesn't work for anybody else on this earth. Pretending a problem isn't there, doesn't mean that's it's getting solved on it's own, or that it's not getting any bigger. The worst part about this whole situation is that while I am well aware of the situation, I am not capable of actually solving the problem, why? Because I currently don't possess the tools necessary to solve them.

But having a routine, giving me some sort of academic and soul nourishment is helping me, at least thinking about things in those long walks we've been taking. So maybe, with a little bit more physical exercise, this could turn out to be a healthy thing, at least keeping me focused on the problem, looking for other solutions out there. On a side note, it's giving me some of the old flexibility and the athletic body that I used to have that I never thought about, but had as a result of swimming.

Well, with that said, I'm off to try on my new routine.

Routines and Productive Sundays

It has been about five days since Irem and I have temporarily moved in to my tiny apartment together. Wow, that's a long sentence with too many modifiers. We now vaguely have a routine together that will build and clearly be defined in the next two weeks, after I've found a job. My job is essential in our completed and revised schedule and routine together, because it will likely to take about eight hours of my time, about four to five days a week, along with school. The two together will first determine my schedule,  dictating when I do what reserved time spaced, specific allotted times for specific time periods. In return by default  this will affect her schedule, what she does when, exception of her morning hours where she will mandatorily attend school. This is all great in and of itself, however, of course there will be a few loose screws until I get that job. Hopefully that job will land on my lap quite soon, like this week.

Aside from that, today has been a tremendously productive day. I woke up around I want to say nine-ish and got down to writing my journal, into my dream journal, doing my grammar study for the day and also reading on my chapter a day How to book series which included (how to write a short story,  and how to write a poem). I've cleaned my home, we've had a huge breakfast, taken about two hours to walk around/sight seeing/taking loads of pictures. What's up next on our agenda? We'll be going to the pool, the sauna, coming home for a little grooming session, get ready and go down to the Memorial Union to watch the boat parade, and finally coming home to study :)
Life is as good as it can be right now. Thank you God.

Farmer's Market

It's been a long time since I went out grocery shopping... or moving away from shopping for food to the shopping for home. It feels good to do something for yourself, or for your home if you care about those kind of stuff. But what's even greater is being a part of the big sea of people, ritualistically creating a wide, rough edged circle around the state capital building. If that's not emotive and evocative at the same time, powerful and potent to the human mind and emotions, I am not quite sure what would be. you're literally in the courtyard of the legislature, where farmers set up their standards, displaying their products of their hard work produce of all sizes, colors and textures. To be that close to governmental buildings is not something we, the regular folk is ready to. Well, it is quite possible right here where I live. It has quite the enchanting feeling to be haggling a dozen of sweet corns down to four dollars right in front of the recalling Scott Walker chants.

We bought a good amount of stuff for rather a cheap price, enough to last us for the next several weeks at the very least. If we can keep this up, this should save me loads of money while giving me lots of chances to cook to my heart's desire and test out my cooking capabilities...something I've been looking forward for a long time now.

There is a concert in Memorial Union today. Coming back though, I have lots of catching up to do in my daily schedule. This is not to say that I haven't done anything at all. Quite the contrary, I've done a lot of stuff, like cleaning my bathroom, kitchen, produce placement, news and political research, poetry reading, journal writing, but a good portion of my activities await to be done, after my bills getting paid. I have to say, there is nothing better than a tidy desk and paid bills. It makes me blisfully happy.

Until next time,

Naz~