Identity

I am me.

I am the definition of how the earth began,

Definitely not a sweet serenade,

The sound I made is like when you pop the pin off a grenade,

Without me you wouldn’t exist,

Creation controversies with me, have raised many a clenched fist.

I am me.

I had this cow, I never liked her.

The chance came along, I sold her fur.

I sold her for magic beans,

But my mother threw them out, she said, we didn’t have the means.

The beans grew tall, the beans grew strong,

And on the top of them lived a giant who didn’t know right from wrong.

I got my share of his gold,

Now I don’t have to eat bread with mould.

I am me.

You start with none,

Then might have just one,

You eventually get a lot.

I grow out of a soft little spot.

The former me is associated with wisdom,

I could be harder than gypsum.

Eventually, you lose all of me,

Then you get a shiny new pair and then you can drink again, spanish tea.

I am me.

They call me short, I’m partly red,

I’ll give you a hint, I’m not actually dead.

I am here this instant, I define myself.

I have a name, I’m unique, just like everyone else.

Faith

Faith.

Faith is love.

Faith can be limitless.

Faith doesn’t have to be blind.

Faith can actually make us human.

Faith could be the next new fragrance.

Faith can see not just what is but can be.

Faith is trusting when there is no reason to.

Faith can make the blind see and the faint run.

Faith can make ordinary people do extraordinary things.

Faith requires the mind just as much as it requires the heart.

Faith is hoping in what we do not know and being certain of what we do not see.

Faith is the understanding of powers and beings beyond human grasp.

Faith is starting something you are not quite sure you can finish.

Faith can be with reason. When it is blind, it is no longer faith.

Faith is knowledge that has past the reach of tangible proof.

Faith is believing in what is perceived to be the unknown.

Faith in tiny tasks make us believe in the impossible.

Faith is inspiration, and always has been.

Faith is direction in a directionless world.

Faith could be a new video game.

Faith can be a resounding song.

Faith is the beginning of living.

Faith could be a girl’s name.

Faith requires courage.

Faith is love.

Faith.

Books

Books are remarkable creatures. They can depress a person, make you happy, excite you and tear you down all with a couple of words arranged in some incredible way. Apart from the obvious uses, books can be used for many other things.

They make a really good makeshift coffee table. Provides a flat surface, easy to carry and fits anywhere. Or perhaps you could use it to dry out flowers and leaves as a memory of some unnaturally beautiful place. A stowaway for old photographs and letters that we might or might not want to remember. The book in your backpack, the perfect headrest for a snooze in the grass. Or, it’s possible that you could just plain read it. Then again, no real fun in doing that, is there?

Textbooks, novels - fiction, non-fiction, science fiction, fantasy, history and art, self-help books and children's books. There’s never ending list of books and a never ending list of authors. Each it’s own genre, just like music has it’s own flavor, it’s own audience and it’s own stereotype.

Books are somewhat of an enigma, while they are revealing at the same time. They lead you into the mystery of the story between the covers while at the same time revealing the story and the mind of the author along with it.

“The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,

And all the sweet serenity of books.”

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Time

From the beginning of time man has sought to define time. And has failed miserably at it. Time cannot be defined. It is something that supersedes human knowledge and comprehension. For decades humans have dreamt of time travel and the wonders of teleportation. We dream of a world where we can escape time. But why would we want to escape time? A question that I believe has profound answers unique to each soul on this time-bound earth.

*TickTock. Tick Tock.*

In our attempt at making some sense of the passing of ages, man has come up with sundials, ancient and modern calendars, and clocks. All kinds of clocks too.

*Cukoo. Cukoo*

Take the cuckoo clock for example. Why would someone want a silly bird popping out of nowhere every single hour to startle the mouse in it’s hole and the makes the cat’s whiskers twirl. Maybe it has something to do with the cock that so obnoxiously wakes everyone up at an hour that I think is the middle of the night.

*Bong Bong*

Grandfather clocks. Grandfather clocks have become more of a collector’s item than a timepiece. They were always known for the intricate carvings and ornamentation and it was considered art back when the world was black and white. The term actually comes from a song that was a tribute to a certain pair of brothers whose fate was tied to a long case clock. As legend goes, the clock slowed down when one of the brothers died and broke down altogether when the other one died. Morbid that we should remember time by death.

*Tring Tring*

Those annoying alarm clocks. The one I want to silence till kingdom come. Yet, I’d be nowhere without it. We’re more or less dependent on alarm clocks to wake us up to the dawn of the new day. There are even those innovative ones that keep walking around to prevent you from smashing it to tiny little bits and pieces.

Whatever time is, for I cannot understand it completely and probably will never be able to, I do know that it is precious, and that there is no way yet to get back the time that I have lost. It makes want to grab every moment of everyday and live in the here and now, forgetting the past and independent of the future.

Time is now.

Friends

Friends. What do they mean to us?

Age five. What is a friend at the age of five? That one person who shares their cookie with you and gives you the green crayon, I guess. Friendship at the age of a toddler works on a give and take basis. It’s a barter system of material things and perhaps a few deeper elements such as time or loyalty.

Age fourteen. That one person you giggle with, get into trouble with and fight with. The one person that you can tease without consequences . Friendship at the age of fourteen is about trust, loyalty, love, jealousy, hate and passion. Adolescence is like clay. It’s that part of life that is the beginning of the process of the shaping of the person that we eventually become.

Age Thirty. The beer buddy. The college roommate that stuck with you throughout college stupidness and proved himself to be your friend. Reminiscence, regret, and realization of failure or success become a part of friendships. A longing for all that is past and an apprehension of the future, all the while, knowing that some things will never change. Like the fool sitting next to you half passed out at the bar, but your bond him growing stronger by the day.

Age Sixty. Life is finished and done with. An analysis of it must be done. And for that you have your little fishing trips with those people you call friends. People connected by a rope of loneliness that brings them together to share in the final joys of life.

What are friends, but passing ships that happen to be sailing in the same waters, and drifting along in the same direction as you.

Place

I have been to many places. I am currently in many places. My mind takes me to several others. I find it interesting that I can close my eyes, simply wish to be somewhere, conjure up my version of what I remember or think a particular place was, and some deep magic transports me to that space and time continuum.

I close my eyes and think of it raining back home. The smell of wet earth, the sound of thunder and the feel of wet cool drops.

Books can transport me too. Descriptions of different countries, magical lands and secret places of the heart, books can take me there.

The one place I do want to go to is Pandora. Not many people have heard of it, and I’m more than sure you haven’t either. I haven’t been there myself, but I know people who have gone there. They say it is difficult to get there and that the road is long and hard, not many survive the journey and even fewer like the place enough to stay there.

It is a land with mountains as high as the ocean is deep, and oceans that are as blue as the bluest bluebell. The grass is as tall as me and the critters unlike those you could have ever seen. The person who I know went there said he could swear that he saw lions dancing and mermaids chatting up a storm.

No, I am not delusional, I am not schizophrenic. He brought something back to prove that Pandora exists. He knew I wouldn’t believe him that easily. I am as skeptical as skeptics get. What he brought back proves, without a doubt, that Pandora exists.

I hope to go there soon. You should come too. We could make a summer holiday out of it.

I can go there anytime I want now. He gave me a map.

Family

Families are like fudge - mostly sweet with a few nuts. ~Author Unknown

Have you ever noticed that all families have those quirky elements within them? They either have this peculiar habit or have this crazy phrase that for some strange reason they wanna keep saying over and over again like it was the Lord’s prayer?

When my dad was my age, he would eat nothing but rice and sugar. He would add heaps of sugar to his meal and claim it was the most delicious thing ever. Not to mention one of my grand aunts who would wake everyone up just to ask them if they were sleeping.

That’s one of the great things about family. No matter how quirky or crazy you are, it’s still a tiny niche in the big bad world that’s made just for you. It’s like a puzzle piece that fits. Family can be such a simple yet profound concept that it is hard to put it into words. They share a love that goes beyond human understanding. A sense of belonging, comfort, care and acceptance can be so important in a person’s life and most often defines the person they become.

My dad, mom, me and my dog make up my family. And yes, animals can be human too.

Families remind me of fungus. Now I bet you’re thinking I’m the quirky crazy one in my family, and you’re probably justified in thinking so. Coming back to my theory, I believe that families grow, then, little pieces break off and form new families. Just like fungus.

It hurts to see families torn from the very purpose that they were designed for. They stem from a human longing of wanting to be loved, a need for companionship and a necessity to share our lives with people around us. When relationships with family go sour, and those basic emotional rights are taken away from us, I think we become less than human.

“The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.” ~Erma Bombeck

Home

Home. It’s big. It’s blue and green. I share my home with different people. Some of them look like me, most of them don’t. I don’t just share my home with different people, I share my home with different creatures too. Most of them live in the water, some live in trees and deep within the ground. The Earth is my home, and I love to share my home.

Home. It’s the seventh largest country in the world and has the second largest population. I live in a tiny city within my country. The city I live in is the capital of my country. I love my city. It’s dynamic and exciting, never a dull moment if you lived in my city. I lived in a small apartment in my city and I shared it with my dad, my mom and my dog comet. New Delhi, India is my home and I hope to go home soon.

Home. Over the last couple of months, I have started to call the city of Tampa, home. After having lived here for a couple of months, and making friends, this university campus is starting to feel like home. It will be my home for the next three years. The University of Tampa, Florida is my home, and I want to grab the opportunities I get here.

Home. What really makes home, home? That inner peace that makes me feel I don’t have to pretend. I can be me without having to worry what people around me might think or say. It’s where I feel loved and wanted. My opinion counts at home, and I will always feel encouraged. People around me will love me despite the silly immature decisions I might make and be proud of me for the responsible choices I make. The people who love me are my home and I love them too.

Home could be abstract or something tangible. It could be sense of peace, a specific city or house or even a person. It’s where or with whom I am true to myself and can be assured that I will be loved for and cared for.

My past will be forgiven, my present will be appreciated and my future will be encouraged. Wherever that is a reality, is my home.