Abu Dhabi Memories · Daily Prompt · Stories

Thursdays are for the Deadlines

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Today was a crazy day at work and I just want to express that. My head has been pounding for some time now but I refuse to take medications. I’m a strong believer of mind over matter. 🙂

I’m now in bed after ten hours of work with deadlines to catch and  basically everyone coming into my office to let me know they have last minute requests. I work in Marketing and “last minutes” are the number one words in our vocabulary. It happens so much that it becomes the norm, and I absolutely detest it. Sadly, it’s part of the job. 😦

Basically, I’ve been slogging the whole day and needed a breather. And even though my head is aching like crazy, I’m still staring at my computer, writing (even though I’ve stared at my work PC basically the whole day). I should really take a rest. Help!

And for those of you who have not read my “About,” I work in the Middle East, in Abu Dhabi specifically. So Thursdays are our Fridays, and because it’s the last day of the week, all the requests come rushing in on this particular day.

And so now, to relax myself, I’ve turned on my Bon Iver playlist, because Justin Vernon is a celestial god who graced Earth with his presence and music. If you’ve not heard of his ethereal voice, do yourself a favor and go to YouTube now. 🙂

It’s kinda weird how I was writing this entry and  opening up another tab to find out that today’s daily prompt is “slog.” WEIRD!

Daily Prompt

Writer’s Block: A Perplexing Occurence

It is truly perplexing when one cannot conjure the right words to write their thoughts.

They call it writer’s block, and yet we all know that the “voice” inside us is still alive and humming a song.

And the words are there, jumbled in our mind waiting to be written yet we stare at a blank page with a huge question mark.

How? Why? Help!

So sometimes, we stop and look around. I have a theory that “writer’s block” is our mind encouraging us to pause and enjoy the view, because something is going to happen and it doesn’t want us to miss it.

For some, it will take a moment, others it will take day or two, weeks, maybe even years, but no matter how long it is, just keep listening to that voice.

Cheers to those moments of vacancy and whatever the perplexing reason behind it.

 

Daily Post: Perplexed

Daily Prompt

They Tell You

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You hear them talk and they slide their views as if it’s a fact
Don’t let the media shape your opinions just because they give you graphics
Go and seek the truth, listen to the other side
Don’t let their big words make you feel small
Because they’re just words and sometimes,
Words, they fail us

They tell you about religion
They tell you about race
They tell you about colors
They tell you about a “united nation”

But they never tell you about life
And the lost of it, and I don’t mean the physical death
Because there are those who breathe
But are so scarred, they’re never going to live again

So go be a radical
The adjective, not the noun
Defined as
“characterized by departure from tradition,”

Detached yourself from the mainstream
And for once, think about what’s happening
There’s a crisis out there
And everybody is turning a blind eye
So blind, it hurts

Daily Prompt: Radical

Daily Prompt · Memoirs of the Innocent

The Scars in my Palms

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There are invisible scars tattooed in my palms. Spread throughout my hands shaped like a tree. Sometimes, they remind me of lighting captured at its finest moment, terrifyingly beautiful.

It has become an art form of failed love, disappointments, pains and aches and ruined friendships. The years have made my palms thicker making them more adequate for gripping things tighter. I have learned to hold on to things and make them work before letting them go so easily.

Very few have touched them and have made the effort to trace the branches of my flaws. They are those that has seen my soul perched at the top of a star, bound by the threads of their commitment, respect and love.

Every so often, a scar awakens from its solitude caused by a mishap of recent events. A reminiscence of what was once, that line of scar shines thinly brighter than the rest. Releasing an alluring flash of memories. It prods my heart and mind, and serves its purpose: a reminder.

I have high regards of my palms and gently take care of them. I see no purpose of opening them up to everyone who walks into my life. For only those willing to discern me for what I am and who I am are fitting to see the rawest form of my soul.

 

Daily Post: Solitude

Daily Prompt · Memoirs of the Innocent

Summer of the Past

river

Photo Credit

Dear Summer,

Memories of your warm sunshine run through my mind, catching me off guard. How I used to enjoy you with simple smiles as I dance barefoot by the river side. You whisper words of freedom and innocence. I walk down memory lane, and I see myself as I child, running through the field, arms stretch, head high, laughing in euphoria for the simple joy of experiencing you.

My not so graceful self slipping in the river, the music of my very own laughter while I lay in the sand of the beach and a picture of me dancing in the occasional rain –these are a few things of why you will always be my favorite.

Oh Summer, you have come and gone. Those were the days, enjoying you will never be the same when I was ten. The coming summers of my life will be filled with daydreaming and reminiscing and maybe a day or two on the beach. I will find other ways of enjoying you.

I’m here again, staring at the rain and nostalgia floods me as I wish for sweet sunshine amidst the cold damp wind. You have seen me for who I was and for who I have become, I miss you the way I missed running through that field.

The summers of my past are a picture of memories that I keep in the safest part of
my heart.

Daily Prompt: Whisper

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When I was younger, I used to live in a small house right beside a river. The moment you go out, you’ll hear the gentle stream of the river. So much of my childhood was spent in that body of water; my cousins and I would go out during summer time and have a blast playing with the water. It would be a family affair; we’ll grab some food and spend our mornings there.

I really miss those days. I haven’t been back to that old place since, I can’t even remember anymore.

In my old blog, I used to write a letter dedicated to summer every year. This letter was the very first piece I wrote, I brushed it up a bit though. Today’s prompt reminded be of this work. I hope you enjoyed it, and what was your most wonderful childhood summer memory?