Now, stay still my restless mind You’re wandering into the wild Stay still my racing heart You’re falling deep into those eyes Stay still my pursed lips You’re tracing poetry along his smile My trembling fingers reach out to him He walks away oblivious of my yearning desires.
It rained all night, she stayed awake and hummed an old forgotten tune on the window sill the white lace curtains swayed with the breeze the curls of her hair danced merrily then why did a glistening drop of water trickle down her honey-glazed cheek?
Just felt like sharing this remarkably beautiful piece of poetry written by Maya Angelou:
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.
Jane handed me a piece of paper and said, “These just came in! I printed them out for you, can you please fetch these from the shelves?”
“Sure!” I replied and went hunting for The Four Winds, The Last Thing He Told Me, and The Paper Palace from the new books section.
When you are working at the library, you need to be quick and always on your feet. Working at a library has been a childhood dream for me, a dream job! Imagine being surrounded by books all the time, can a job get better than this? I was overwhelmed with joy when they told me I was selected for the position of Circulation Assistant/Shelver. It’s been three weeks now and it’s also the last day of my training. Most importantly it’s payday and I am eagerly waiting to be paid. After all, money isn’t insignificant.
This isn’t my first job, it’s not even my second. If my memory serves me correctly I think it’s my seventh. I know what you’re thinking — how old is she anyway? Well, I turn thirty-four this year. In my thirty-four years, I’ve found that most people define themselves primarily by their jobs. I envy them because I’m not sure I can ever find the best role that can define me. You see, I have always been confused when it comes to making decisions in life. Is there such a thing as a single role?
As a kid, I was always asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
I would say, “Um, I would still want to be myself?”
Children don’t really think about the far future, all they care about is playing and eating chocolates.
Yet, they would put me on the spot and ask, “No dear! What work will you do? Do you want to be a doctor or an engineer?”
Alright then, I have to make a choice. So, let’s get this over with. I would shout, “Doctor!”
The joy on their faces, I tell you! As a child, I always wondered why adults were so fascinated with work. Now, who likes to work? When my mother told me to do some work, I would run the other way.
Then, you grow up and realize that to survive in this world you need to work.
“It’s simple, just get a job and all the problems in your life will magically disappear.”, they said.
I can’t help but agree with them even though I dislike the whole idea of working.
After graduation, I got selected in a multinational company and got a job pretty easily. My parents were proud, friends were overjoyed, and classmates were envious. I worked there for two months and quit. Everybody was shocked. My friends were bewildered by my decision. They were fuming with rage. My dad was so disappointed in me that he did not speak to me for a week.
They said, “What’s wrong with you? Do you know how lucky you were? We are struggling to find a job and you just throw it away?”
I was scared and upset, I questioned my decision and wondered if I had made a dire mistake. I got influenced by the people around me and quickly started looking for other jobs. I needed money so I worked in a call center for a few months. I knew this was temporary so I posted my resume on many job portals. Soon, I got a call from another big company for the position of a data analyst. I took it up because the late-night shifts in the call center were affecting my health.
I did the data analyzing job for six months, but I just wasn’t happy. There was not much to complain about, the pay was good and I was treated with respect. My colleagues were friendly and helpful. But deep inside, I knew that this is not what I wanted to do in my life.
I started worrying, “How do I make this work? What was the point of all the education when I cannot work? Why does work have to feel so meaningless and even insulting?”
I couldn’t understand how people managed to work their entire life. Is this what work means, dreading every single day? I was in shambles, I had to find something that not only helped me survive but also kept me sane. I had saved some money so I took time off to understand what I really wanted to do with my life.
I researched and decided to study English Literature.
Why? I guess because I like reading books?
Well, I had to begin somewhere so I enrolled myself in a college and thankfully I liked studying. It made me feel alive again.
Immediately after my course, I got a job as a fashion writer. Guess what? It felt like I finally found a job that was fulfilling. I wasn’t getting paid enough but I liked every second of the job. I guess because it didn’t feel like I was working? At the end of the day, I would be happy looking at my articles posted on the company website. Six years flew by working as a content writer for different companies. I liked writing so much that I even started blogging. Writing to me was therapeutic and it helped to calm my noisy mind.
You know, it doesn’t end here. People still ask me, “You’ve been writing for six years? You should be a manager by now, what about career growth?”
So I had to tell myself repeatedly — no, no! I’m not falling into this trap all over again. It’s easy to get influenced by peers, but I knew if I participated in the rat race I would end up quitting again.
Once I found the career path that worked for me, I started exploring other opportunities of my interest. I stopped working as a full-time content writer and started doing multiple other jobs. Like I said earlier, I’m a confused person and I’m still confused. I still make wrong decisions, but I don’t mind trying new things until I find out what works for me. Now, I do three jobs in a day. I’m a volunteer who teaches underprivileged kids in the morning, I work at a library in the afternoon, and do freelance writing at night. I also work as a baker on the weekend but that’s just for myself.
I am not being boastful. Well, maybe a little but that’s not the point. It doesn’t matter what job you do as long as it makes you happy and adds meaning to your life. As I ponder on my entire life while shelving, which I often tend to do, I climb down the ladder holding the last book from the list called The Multi-Hyphen Life. Right, how apt!
Dear reader, today I have a controversial topic to talk about – open ended novels. There was a time when I much appreciated open-ended stories. The mysterious cliffhangers would leave me wondering, “Oh what would have happened if he had chosen the easy path?” Or “Oh is she going to remain mysterious without revealing her true identity?” Or “Will she continue packing lunch for him as a mysterious stranger without meeting him?”
As I reader or an audience I have drawn my own conclusions feeling a sense of power. The unresolved narratives gave me a sense of liberty. I could use my imagination to give a unique ending to the story or sometimes I have left it unresolved too because not every story needs to have an ending. Some movies, books, podcasts, and paintings invited more ideas to be shared amongst friends and family for interesting conversations and perspectives.
HOWEVER, on the other hand this trend seems to have caught on a little too much, isn’t it? Many writers and storytellers seem to choose this path of ambiguous endings for their incomplete stories. Which I now find a little frustrating. Somehow all I am reading or watching or listening to lately are open-ended stories. “I need an ending, please!!”
There are too many stories with abrupt endings, it seems like the authors don’t really want to try and want the readers to do their job for them. I don’t find stories without an ending artful or intriguing anymore, it’s rather a lazy approach. What’s with the unnecessary tease? Why do we have to spend hours and not get answers to all the important plots? Some stories do not even require any layers of complexity.
“What really happened in this book?” “Why did I have to spend hours reading the damn book?” “The author might as well have ended it after the first chapter and called it a cliffhanger.” Why should the reader take the trouble of reading pages after pages and end up with nothing. Sometimes movies with abrupt endings are still fine as they’re over in a few hours. But with books, when there is no sequel, I am not really sure if randomly abrupt and ambiguous endings are fun or entertaining anymore.
Sorry, I’m done ranting. I just finished reading the book Paper Palace and I’m not very happy with the unresolved ending, hence this post. I know it’s not an easy job to write a book of hundreds of pages but as a reader, I’m requesting all the amazing writers to give their readers a good ending, open or closed as long it’s good. Thank you for reading till the end and if you’ve been on the same boat then I’m guessing you’ll share the same thoughts on this subject. If you do, then please do throw some light on your thoughts and share it with us.
I cannot sleep, Is it my troubled mind, that is keeping me awake all night? Or is it the moonlight from my window? I try long and hard – To go back to a peaceful world of dreams, Where the night is dark and the sleep is deep. But lately I’ve been up all night! Tossing and turning, Taking deep breaths, Reading books, Listening to meditative music to put me back to sleep… Why isn’t anything helping? What is it that I’ve been thinking? Am I anxious or just excited? What am I waiting for, Or rather who am I waiting for? No, stop it! Stop thinking. I need my sleep. Let’s try going back to sleep. Night night!
A cloudy evening, light drizzle. At a distance, a man in a green rain jacket is out for a walk with his dog. Patiently, he follows and watches his enthusiastic dog sniff the ground, play in the wetness of the green grass, and run around.
The view outside my window is beautiful, spectacular. I’m thankful to cameras that I can capture this moment in a photograph. Which I am sure I will not find interesting when I randomly find it after a few days.
Things are beautiful when they happen in that moment. Isn’t it? Like right now the fairy lights by my window are on, I’m with my book and a pen looking outside and trying my best to capture this precious scene in words and photos.
Happiness is not in big achievements but in easily and abundantly available joyous moments that are special just for you.