Long or short sentences, it’s still the same home

Killing two birds with one stone.

The home I lived in when I was twelve.

Shared that before.

Be it a sentence or more, long or short.

The story and the home is still the same.

 

 

via Writing 101: Size Matters
Today, tell us about the home you lived in when you were twelve. For your twist, pay attention to — and vary — your sentence lengths.

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Going back in time many many years ago, a ten year old little girl looked out the window from her bedroom on the first floor of a wooden double-storey house.

She saw a big tree and further across the field was an attap house with little flower pots (some broken) of plants and flowers sitting on wooden plank shelves outside that attap dwelling. The little house across the field was perhaps home to the servants of her family who lived in that big family home before she was born. The house compound was very big, several acres, an open field, overgrown in some parts and a stream separated that big house and the small attap house. Access was through a few pieces of timber nailed together, placed across the narrow stream as a walkway, sometimes submerged in water during high tide. The whole property had endured floods during the monsoon…

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Give and Take – Which is better, single or couple?

“I love being single.  My breakup from that dickhead was the best thing that happened to me !”

I was sitting in a cafe, next table to two women. The talker was colorfully dressed, eyes with shades of blue, holding a cup of coffee showing off finger nails painted in bright red.  The listener was dressed simply with an oversized coat of dull grey, scarf around her neck, no makeup.

The colorful lady was doing all the talking, trying to paint a picture what her life was like before and after the breakup. I was supposedly reading a book but very much drawn to listen into the conversation and was eavesdropping if you wish to call me that.

“When we were together, I had no life.  He didn’t want to do the things I liked and I had to almost always gave in to what he wanted to do and I lived my life like that for the last ten years.  What was the point, to live with someone and not being able to be myself.  I was living for him and I must have lost my personality.”

The other lady nodded in agreement and before she could reply, the colorful lady continued.

“When that dickhead left me, I cried my eyes out.  I didn’t know what I did wrong. You won’t believe how I pleaded with him to stay but he just didn’t give me a chance.  I was too shocked to tell you or anyone.”

She paused for a moment, had a sip of coffee.

“It took me one whole year feeling sorry for myself and then one morning, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, I still look pretty cool, except for that sad eyes so I decided to polish my image, changed my wardrobe, made new friends and no longer wanted to hang around the same group of friends we had as a couple.  Those people reminded me of him and all they did was to feel sorry for me.  That made me felt even more victimized and needy.”

Her cellphone rang, “I am finally letting her know ……….. see you at Zumba later.”

“And you know what?  When we were together, I had to sit through every rugby match. Our dinner was steak and bbq almost every day. He just won’t try any other cuisine. Today, I have tasted and tried all sorts of cuisine more than I ever did in the last ten years.”

The lady in the oversized coat finally got a chance to speak.

“You sounded very mature and mellow ……. and look lovely, Mabel.  Mum would be very proud of you. I could still remembered how worried she was when you packed your bag and went to live with Harry refusing to listen to any of us. I cannot believed you kept this from all of us till now.  You are stronger than we know.”

“I was totally lost and withdrawn in that whole year but I did not want anyone to feel sorry for me.  I guess I eventually realized I am an individual and I must learn to love myself even though he did not.  When dickhead was with me, I spent all my life loving him and neglected myself.  Being single, I can do what I want to do, turn on whichever channel on TV and dress and eat what I fancy.  The list is endless, I just didn’t realized there are just so many cool things to do, Sis.  I’ve got to run now, I’m keeping fit with Zumba.”

That was quite a pleasant conversation, a kind of reality check.  I, too had been alone now for three years and couldn’t help but agreed with her on the independence being a single.  In fact I was thinking perhaps I should start looking again but after overhearing this conversation, I may stay single for a little while longer.

I smiled and went on to read my book.

 

single

 

 

via Writing 101 : Give and Take

Focus today’s post on the contrast between two things. The twist? Write the post in the form of a dialogue.

Never judge a book by its cover

Today, you’ll write about the most interesting person you’ve met in 2014.  In your twist, develop and shape your portrait further in a character study

via Writing 101: A Character-Building Experience.

 

How easy or hard is it to share your house with a stranger?

This stranger responded to our “flatmate wanted” ad.  We were looking for a “working professional, dog lover” to share with two others and a family dog in a four bedroom home.   He came to view, along with his wife who just got a job overseas hence he was looking to flat temporarily till he knows his future plans.

Both in their mid thirties, and sure enough fitted the “working professional” description.  They were tanned, Indian and very pleasant couple.  He was of average height and built.  My dog barked crazily but he was not scared.  That did not necessarily mean he is a “dog lover” but enough to show me that he doesn’t mind dogs.

He moved in within a week.  That dog took a week to accept him.  I would have thought my house would smell of Indian kitchen in no time but I was totally wrong.  My wine rack was almost full with wine of all sorts and he asked me where he could store his.  I have an appreciation of wine with food.  I thought he was a “wine connoisseur” like me.  Again I was wrong.

Surprisingly he told me he was going to go on a diet to loose some weight.  Unbelievable as I honestly did and still do not see any extra pounds that needed to be shed off.  He had been staying with us now for the last couple of months.  He had never once cooked any Indian meal and I have not seen him with a glass of wine, not even once.  Instead he dines on Jenny Craig, the weight management program.

I guess he is preparing himself to “feel like new, feel like you” (Jenny Craig’s slogan).  Trim and fit to move abroad to join his wife soon.

Introducing Dee, our flatmate, the fittest and most disciplined man in our house.  He is no typical Indian though was tempted once when I had Beef Saagwala cooking on the stove and he asked for a taste !

 

Do you mind sharing your house with a stranger?  This is one interesting character I don’t really mind.

 

 

 

 

Writing 101 – Be Brief

You stumble upon a random letter on the path.  You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which it’s addressed.  Write a story about this encounter.

 

A piece of pink writing paper, smudged, a three lined message.

 

Please forgive me

Didn’t know you were behind

R.I.P. You’re hurt no more.

 

As I walked a couple more steps up this country road, I saw a wooden cross, a bunch of fresh flowers and a little teddy bear.

 

tedd

 

 

via the Daily Post : Writing 101 – Be brief

Writing 101 : Serially lost – Goodbye my purple wheel

Serially lost or serially loud.

It was a Nissan something, a purple hatchback, with a huge company logo on each of the passenger car door. I’ve had that car since my son went to kindy. Besides its official duties of visiting and delivery merchandize (big posters, banners, subscription forms and advertising material of all sorts) across shops in the country, it had its fair share of being in line waiting for the bell to ring and moving forward to the school gate picking my kids from school.

For eight years our family was associated with this purple car. First you saw the car, then me or us. We were never a loud family but the car heralded our appearances all around town. One day, there were talks that the company was going to upgrade the fleet, a reduced sized logo and softer color.

I didn’t wait for that to happen. I made a conscious decision to step out of that limelight and left the job.

Goodbye my purple wheels.

 

purple nissan1

 

via The Daily Prompt – Writing 101: Serially Lost
Today, write about a loss. The twist: make this the first post in a three-post series.

Three important songs in my life

Jorge Luis Borges said: “Writing is nothing more than a guided dream.”

So, what are you waiting for?  Get writing.  Fifteen minutes.

Write about the three most important songs in your life – what do they mean to you?

 

 

SONG 1

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me;
See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching,
Watching for you and for me.

Refrain:
Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

 

This song gives me hope.  It gives me comfort that even in death, I am not alone. It gives me courage to go forward in my journey, enjoying the moment, live my life,  share my time with those around me. When my time is up, Almighty with a host of angels are waiting to lead me to my eternal peace.

 

SONG 2

[Chorus]
And sometimes when we touch
The honesty’s too much
And I have to close my eyes
And hide
I want to hold you till I die
Till we both break down and cry
I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides

 

I used to love fiercely and passionately.  Time may have diluted a little of that as I got hurt time and again. The way I loved was like two hands, his and mine coming together. I clinched my fist then he wrapped his hand over mine.  In reality, that is a scary way to love.  The logical way to love is like holding hands, locking each of our fingers in between, both hands entwined.  That represents a symbol of equal commitment to the one another. On the other hand, when one is head over heels in love, who can stay logical.  In reality, love should not be too submissive of one party to the other.  If such a love fails, one party often suffer all the hurt and pain.  That’s my lesson in life.

 

SONG 3 

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Little Jackie paper loved that rascal puff,
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. oh

I cannot remember when I first heard this song neither do I care for the speculations about this song being linked to  puffing or smoking marijuana.  Irregardless the true meaning, be it about a drug or about a dragon and boy, I love the magic around the song.  Life can be as rough as you make it, full of temptations and if this song is about a drug then let that serve as a reminder to keep away.  If it is about a magical tale then let that be a flicker of hope in hours of darkness that miracles do happen.  Therefore do not despair.

 

 

 

Now your turn, what are your three most important songs in your life?

via Writing 101 – Commit to a Writing Practice

 

A room with a view

Going back in time many many years ago, a ten year old little girl looked out the window from her bedroom on the first floor of a wooden double-storey house.

She saw a big tree and further across the field was an attap house with little flower pots (some broken) of plants and flowers sitting on wooden plank shelves outside that attap dwelling. The little house across the field was perhaps home to the servants of her family who lived in that big family home before she was born. The house compound was very big, several acres, an open field, overgrown in some parts and a stream separated that big house and the small attap house. Access was through a few pieces of timber nailed together, placed across the narrow stream as a walkway, sometimes submerged in water during high tide. The whole property had endured floods during the monsoon seasons.

She treasured the times when she would go along with her younger aunt to her little ‘jungle’ (that part of the overgrown patch of land) picking wild ferns (paku and bidin) for cooking. It was always an adventure and fun even though they were often bitten by mosquitoes or insects.

Once a month the family would order a whole truck load of logs for firewood (not for heating but cooking). An old man (Ah Pek) would call round with his axe and it normally took him two days to chop the logs into smaller pieces for a wage of eight ringgit. From her bedroom window, she often watched the old man wiped his sweat with a towel that hung loosely over his neck.  She watched as he gratefully ate his lunch, a big bowl of rice and whatever meat her aunt prepared for him. This log chopping task was carried out directly in the field below her window.

Looking out the window, to the left was a fenced chicken pen at the far end. A few ducks and chicken were seen in that compound chirping away. Sometimes, burglars came in the middle of the night with gunny sacks and stole all the fowls. Next to the chicken pen was a standalone concrete building. There were about six steps leading up to a door and that was entry to the family squat down flush toilet. Behind that toilet structure, was a garden that aunt built for this little girl and that secret garden was totally hidden by that out of place toilet.

The little girl’s bedroom was the inner room. First you enter into a big bed chamber leading into a connecting door to her bedroom. Her grandmother, her younger sister and two aunties slept in the master room. Her favorite aunt shared her inner bedroom. There were four other bedrooms on that floor.

Walking up the steps from the main house, you entered an open hallway, then all the bedrooms on both sides and finally a huge family room with many windows like a U shape looking in three directions. There were at least six windows on each side of the U. One side looked out to the main road and the neighbourhood, the other looked into the lush green fields and the big pond which also served as a dumping ground. The other side windows had the same view of her bedroom looking into the attap house.

Memories full of innocence, so soothing, so green and so pleasant. Years later, in quiet moments alone, as she unwind, turned back the clock, reminiscing her childhood as that little girl living in a room with a view. Sweet memories so precious and dearly treasured.

 

firewood
 

Related articles

Bidin and Paku are types of edible wild ferns found in Kuching, Sarawak, Borneo.

An attap house has roof made of attap palm (some including walls made of attap) found in the villages of Indonesia, Malaysia and Singapore.

 

 

via The Daily Post, Writing 101 – A room with a View

We’re all drawn to certain places. If you had the power to get somewhere — anywhere — where would you go right now?   For your twist, focus on building a setting description.

Writing 101 : Unlock the mind

To get started, let’s loosen up.  Let’s unlock the mind.
Today, take twenty minutes to free write.  And don’t think about what you’ll write.
Just write.

 

I started this blog with a big idea of wanting to connect people all around the world in friendship, not just a blogger community but a place where anyone and everyone all over the world can log in and find another to connect with.  A place where you can make friends and meet up face to face (one day somewhere perhaps).

Friendship and relationship is the theme of my blog.  I hope to write about topics on relationship between couples, parent and child, siblings or friends.  It is a whole big community.  This blog is like a big relationship tree with branches representing each category of relationship and twigs are posts of the topics related to each category.

My big dream is to make this blog a place where anyone and everyone can log into whenever they needed someone to talk to.  It is a station for comfort, for leisure or simply just a place where you can find connection any day, any time, wherever you may be.

Ooops time’s up and that is just a start.  That’s a random twenty minutes more or less of thoughts on how this blog came about.

Welcome to Worldwide FriendSoulmate, your friendly blogging station.

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