prologue

Name: Sajeetha
life is for living, need i say more?

*loves:
the family, him, them; my friends
anything arty farty, the literary arts, theatre
dolphins
travelling, always unfolding something new
dining in places with ambience to kill for (it's a hobby.hah)
r etail therapy
all things indian
enlightening conversations
candles
angels, fairie,pixies, gnomes, smurfs(br>

*loathes:
the one who stabs u in ur back
death of dear ones
all that flies or has wings
the complications of all types of relationships
not knowing
those who try so hard to be me

red/purple crumpler bag
new urban male jersey
new birks
that oh-so-gorgeous watch from esprit
that beautiful converse bag
a white i-pod nano
that new dgital camera which screams buy-me!
the bikini from billabong
a new pair of funky spectacles
truckloads of best-selling novels
a whole new art materials collection
a new wallet that fits the enormous card collection of mine

nady,the sweetie pie
vicky, the blur sotong
charlotte,the doctor in the making
sivanes, the smart-ass cuzzin
LV, the gorgeous pearly
sarah, the clubbing chica
sujatha, the indian actress look alike
nadia ameera, the lost pri sch mate who was found
lynette, the sports fanatic
hemma, the evil twin
vanessa, popular for all the wrong reasons

express

 

Foto Decadent
 

July 2005[x] August 2005[x] September 2005[x] October 2005[x] November 2005[x] December 2005[x] February 2006[x] March 2006[x] April 2006[x] May 2006[x] June 2006[x] July 2006[x] August 2006[x] September 2006[x] October 2006[x] November 2006[x] December 2006[x] January 2007[x]

I think I detect a slight flair for poetry in me.

Last night, I couldn't get my tired brain to go to sleep despite the numerous times of sheep counting, both from 1-100 and vice-versa.

I got up from my bed, switched on the light, took out a paper and a pencil from my drawer and decided to pen down my thoughts for the day, which usually ends up being my blog entry the very next day. But this time, something else stirred within me and I decided to write a poem instead and I surprised myself even if I say so myself.

Poetry,I find, is a great equalizer simply because it wasn't made to be obvious on its surface and every reader, whether they were NUS smarties of school drop-outs, had to go through the process of deciphering the words, then the sentences, then the stanzas, pulling the poem apart and putting it back together before it would yield it's meaning.

Now isn't that amazing? Not bad at all. Now I've got an alternative for a job. If I can't be a journalist, I might just settle for being a poet. What do you think?

Monday, December 12, 2005
- - - - - - - - - -