http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com "An unexamined Life is not worth living." Mon, 19 Oct 2009 03:46:22 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en I know for a fact that no one is reading this blog anymore. I myself have stopped writing in it. The reason is probably embedded in various excuses, but I suppose I tired of complaining or displaying my utterly mundane life with a butter knife. But this ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2009/10/18/11-words-one-shot-one-short/ “No.” “Why!?” “It’s too low.” My sigh was far from gentle. I had gotten through five changes of clothes, and time was not abundant either. Plus, after six hours of driving, my patience was not exactly patient. I slipped into the delicate white knitted top and stepped out. “OK. That’s fine.” ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/10/28/darbars-shall-be-darbars/ When you are doing something you have no heart to do, you do not deserve to be doing it, nor do you deserve to be. You are then, not of yourself, but a you of what your mindful sensibilities tell you to be. What is authenticity anyhow? I ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/10/16/me-myself-and-i/ I hated learning my times tables. My mother would sit us at the dining table and demand the production of sheet after sheet of row after row of numbers after sequenced numbers. Like I said, it was not a fond practice. But we’d do it. And ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/10/12/mathumilation/ Radiohead’s newest album strumming into my ears, my cereal bowl nearly empty, I am reading about the eviction of some Polish nuns who have occupied a church against the Holy See’s orders for the last two years. There is a tap on my shoulder and I swirl around. ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/10/10/untangle-please/ It was a boiling 1o7 degrees with an equally oven breathed wind stirring up construction dust outside. The conditioned air, a gentle shock to the homeostatic status of the skin. I have a habit of sitting at the front of the lecture room. From day one, it ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/10/06/the-humility/ I can hear the light swish of my walk up and down the halls of the small ER as the corduroys rub against each leg. I can hear it despite the hurried whirlwind of chatter exchanged between RN’s, doctors and patients. The nurses smile back at my own ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/08/03/a-study-of-pain-and-more/ I sit in a slight daze of thoughts, unaware of the pair of eyes that are staring at me. “T.” I jerk to face my padre. “T, if there was a poisonous snake here, and I told you not to catch it but you insisted to catch it with your bare ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/06/25/titre/ She saw the sun shining, the whiteness of the snow almost blinding in the glare. She smiled. At least, she thought, it was going to be warm! With that sun, and the blue sky… Yes. It would be warm. She slipped on her shoes and ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/05/13/jayabala/ “Hey, K.” “Hey.” I pick my bottle of juice and shut the glass door. “Hey, will you write my paper for thrity bucks?” I look steadly up at his dark, dark face. He is from Africa. His accent will tell you clearly. “Hell no.” “OK. How about twenty dollars ... http://sesquipedalien.blogsome.com/2007/05/11/for-words/