TOPSY-TURVY

 

1. Upside down

For the past three months, I’ve been facing a wall in a topsy-turvy state. Sitting criss-crossed with the map of my life in hand, I’ve just been staring, blinking once or twice, at this wall that has disrupted my universe. At first, it was quite small, so I smoothly hid it under a rug, brushing away its footsteps. Yet, over time, its legs became far too big to hide under a rug, in a closet, or in a box. I don’t even think an Inivisibily Cloak will work. It keeps getting bigger and bigger, louder and louder, knocking things down and waking other people up with its tantrums. It keeps getting closer and closer, dominating my universe, stretching its arms around me, attempting to pressure me into acknowledging its precence. Well, I have. I practically even think about this wall while sleeping. But now, I’m done staring at it. You know why? Because this wall isn’t evil- its a massive opportunity, one I’ve worked and craved for, for years. I avoided it because I’ve had second thoughts about shaking its hand and taking its offer. Why? Because I’ve decided that its an even better opportunity to get my saw of a fingertip and draw a door out of the wall, walking through it, and painting a new sky. Most people will think I’m mad, but I think my navigator of a heart knows best.

CREPUSCULE

1. Twilight

When I was a kid, I never paid attention to the houses, trees, and scarce flowers we passed by in the car. I preferred to stare at the moon, attempting to discover why he always followed me. I asked him once or twice, but he never answered. So, I just sat there, staring, staring at how he wrinkled his nose when the fogs hugged him, how he snubbly raised his eyebrows when the stars attempted to outshine him, and how he frantically leaped at the sight of the sun. I often asked him why they wouldn’t share the skies together, why he took the night shift, and where he was headed off to. He never replied. He just kept staring back, curling his lips a bit. But, I always knew the answer. I think he lives to watch the crepuscule of the day, to watch the sun’s rays paint the skies with color. He was a bird, longing to flutter with its flock. Thus, I used to wish him a good night every night. I still do. Why? Because, for a very long time, I truly believed that I was his only friend in the world. A part of me still does.

PETRICHOR

If you find yourself lost at a crossroads, afflicted by which path you ought to take then, this post is for you. This post is for you Alices lost in Wonderland, having tea with the Mad Hatter and lecturing a caterpillar on the evils of nicotine. Whether you chose to live in Wonderland or in practicality, to fight the red or white queen, or succumb to the mothballs of reality or transform them into rainbows, I hope that after “walk[ing] long enough” your final destination will glisten of petrichor, the smell of earth after it rains. I hope it’ll always stay that way.

LOGOMACHY

1. A dispute about words; 2. a battle of words

We paint pictures with our tongues. We grow gardens with the pencils of our minds. Sadly, only some people are aware of the magic of enticing a masterpiece with their voice. Others chose to have their conversations dominated by uproaringly boring, useless, generic talk. I wish most people would string their syllables into a pearl necklace and build their words into grand castles that smile upon the sea, away from the night. I wish they would ignite their thoughts with heart wretchedly beautiful metaphors, show off their jibbersish with amusing alliterations, and sigh out their sorrows with similes that sparkle like pixels of fairy dust. I wish they would erect effervescence with their wordy witchcraft and swallow up evils with their wordy weaponry. If only most of us knew how important the pictures we paint are to the workings of the world. Now, I’m definitely up for a logomachy!

NERTS

1. Nonsense, nuts

When I was a kid, I wanted to avoid becoming an adult at all costs. I thought they weren’t nerty enough for me. Oh, how wrong I was. Adults are the nertiest creatures of all. They make Scooby Doo look sane. They wear masks, a different one every day, like actresses in a play, according to how they wish to be perceived by their audience. They hysterically run around in endless mazes, digging for truths they’ve already known, and answers to questions that they can only answer. They do foolish things in the name of happiness, wealth, and power. Instead of listening to the stories their wrinkles narrate, they obsessively hunt down the fountain of youth, without realizing it lies within them. Some prefer to dessicate like robotic drones, others venture on, empowered by their transfixion of life. But all of them, all of them, are nerty, nerty creatures. The nertiest thing of all, is that they don’t even know it.