The Gold of Life is Love

This post was published to Random Poetry..Rhyme 2 my h... at 5:50:12 PM 11/14/2012

What is it like to grow up with everyone already having imagined what you might be in the future and the responsibilities you’ll need to fulfill?

It is hard to grow into the role that’s already been laid out for you to wear but some people are lucky enough to have been allowed their own individuality and their own dreams. I myself, I’m a dreamer but when it’s the dream world where you’re allowed to be who you want, it’s the dream world you’d prefer to the harsh realities of life. That won’t solve any of my problems though and so I’m going to turn to the unresponsive white background of my blog to pour out the bitter taste of reality.

Life is a large spread of land crawling with thick masses of greenery, vines, and massive tree trunks with their tops of green shrubbery towering into the clouds. Life is a jungle. It’s dark and humid in there with only a few specks of light getting through the spaces between the leaves and branches. The trees are so tall, so wide, so rough barked that they are impossible to climb that you unable to see over the land at what lays ahead. The trees grow so close and the plants litter as far as the eye can see into the mass of darkness; that you cannot see what’s far ahead.

Your only hope is the tiny splattering of light that breaks through the open spaces and faith enough to believe there is something great beyond the darkness and chaos of the jungle. There are remnants of a concrete path, lying broken and almost unusable along the ground, half buried by the soil and almost hidden by the wild grass. It’s very difficult to find this path in the jungle and painful trying to move the sharp blades of grass; some whose cunning thorns prick your naked fingers when you try to search for the faded pavement.

This jungle, I am in. Around me there are people, some who stay close but others I can barely see but are still within hearing range. Now and again I can call out and they will hear and respond. I fear though, one day they will disappear and I will no longer know them. Others are right by me and I know them all. Some have tried to hide the pavement from me; others have lent me their spare machetes to clear the weeds off the path.

Sometimes, I’m weak and I have trouble cutting down an annoyance of a wild plant that blocks my way and people laugh. Sometimes, someone who is kind enough not to laugh steps in and helps me cut the weed down.

There are people behind me, whose tongues are like whips but yet are like gold. Sometimes, I miss a stone or a root and I trip; the lashes begin. They tear across my heart and causes pain that cripples my mind and hurts my soul. I sometimes think I can bare it no longer and lose all feeling in my legs. I think I will not stand after this. I think this travel is no longer worth the hurt.

Sometimes, I find where the pavement rises and I stand above all others during such an achievement and I receive gold. Precious, priceless and rare. It shines and glows through the darkness and I think, this is why I try. This is why I bother. So that I can have the most precious thing in the world.

I find myself always stumbling into somewhere too dark to find the path and the lashings behind me distract me from what I try to find. It’s painful and cruel and I want so much for it to stop. The only way It can, is for when I find the path they want. I want my own, though. Is it worth the pain?

All I see is darkness but always, there’s that one ray of light. The hope that I need to have to stand again. To do labour and cut, chop, chop, chop the numerous wild life in my way.

It is great help, when others around me give me cheer or spare cane-knife. Some gold too, to light my way. Someone beside me, he gives me so much gold that I’m amazed about how much bounty of it he has. It’s so precious, it’s so rare and it’s so very much appreciated.

I give my gold back to him. As much as I have, as much as I can give. All I want, is for those behind me to one day give my share of gold. As much gold as I’ve always given to them. As much as I can afford to give.

I want that I can find my own path. I want that those closest to me do not hurt me.

As it is for now, I still have my light. For now, the most precious gift of all is in my grasp. I may have fallen into a trench. I may have lost track of my path. I may be suffering the piercing pain of those lashing whips.

BUT

I’m still in this forest. My path still exists somewhere. I have gold. I have light. I have hope.

Good luck with exams

One hour before the exam ends, I'm already walking out the door with a content smile on my face. 5 STARS FOR ME! Ofcourse, it's not always good to finish before time, but this time, I'm pretty sure I got it down.
The best thing about having exams, is the essays (discussion or argumentative). Easy marks, right there!

Now, I'm rushing and rambling all the details out and you're probably not following, so I think it would be safe to start from the beginning.

After finishing my last blog post, I was automatially logged off my computer for some sort of update. At first, miffed at not being able to check on other important documents and projects...ahem twitter ahem...I realized that it was actually almost time for the exam to start.

The exam location was about a 10 minute walk from where I was, and so I stood, resigned to face my destiny penning the blank cheap paper of exam answer sheets.

On the top of my head, I rehearsed whatever was important to remember and solely relying on the essay to save my soul. The campus was empty, as students sat around studiously flipping through their texts and books trying to find a last minute antidote to the incoming plague they were all going to face.

I looked on, bored, with earphones plugged in, my mind fantasizing my belting off the notes of Turner's "Simply the best" infront of a crowd of admiring fans. Thank you, thank you.

Then, SQUELCH!

I froze, dread numbing my whole body and me unwilling to look down and see. Then I did..and I saw my foot shit deep in shit.

I thought..no, it couldn't be! Please say it rained chocolates this morning. It's chocolate puddle, that's all it is.

Then, the scent of food that had undergone the process of digestion and egestion sunk in like an unwanted swarm of mosquitoes covering the length of your skin.

Ready to damn the world, I glanced around shiftily for any enemy body that might be happening nearby. I spotted two friendlies a way back but they were too far to see my predicament, luckily.

Uncomfortably, I walked on like a limping old woman with eye movement problems and tried to find a tap, to no avail. I thought, well stuff it! I wiped the offending matter against the grass and hoped no one would think anything was off.

As soon as the friendlies caught up, I matched their gait and resumed the illusion of a normal university student.

Oh I was good.

I got to the exam area, sat down and sniffed a few times to make sure my lil earlier incident had left no evidence. I was clear to go, and so I sat staring at the paper, ready to begin.

The supervisors yelled out the usual things to remember. No devices, shut off all phones and if caught cheating or with any illegal substances, they'd off your head. Something along those lines.

All that was expected off us was an essay.

Needless to say, I think I handled things pretty well. I walked out like a triumphant warrior who'd just won the battle that was to win the war.

I bought a hot dog.

Though I literally started off stepping into shit, I ended up....buying hot dog. I'm sure I had a good point there but I've forgotten what it was.

I wish everyone the best of lucks in their exams. Don't lose hope when it seems like your day isnt going well. AAh there it is! The point I was trying to make.

:)

Random rambling of the Kid before exams

The moment has finally arrived. The MOMENT. 
Exams are finally here, and when I say here, I mean in an hours time...and counting.
Am I prepared? Have I mastered every topic, every subject matter and means of assessment in this course? Will I be able to pass with a flying A or a still-acceptable C?

As I sit here and contemplate whether or not the hungry dogs stall was open, I also wonder about the exams. There is no panic, my palms aren't sweaty, my knees aren't weak, my arms aren't heavy....
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,
but he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down,
the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking how, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no...

Got carried away there for a bit.

Anyhow, I'm pretty much relaxed for the upcoming paper. Whether or not it will be the same story for the reading time before exams, I don't know. All I know for sure is I NEED A HOT DOG.

Alas, I must bid thee all farewell as I suit up for the oncoming battle of the titans. Me versus the dreaded and dark creation of the gods of education...Exams. I hear their trumpets bellowing in the wind just beyond the cliffs there, and I shall take up the call of honour and stride into battle like the gallant and fiercely hungry for hot dogs warrior I am.

 

  

  

Fiji Review

Fiji: A Novel by Lance Morcan
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It took me ages to read this book, thanks very much to all the Uni distractions!! I barely had time to read a chapter before I was bombarded with a whole lot of assignments and all the other ammunition education uses on us helpless victims of the system.
I finally had the sense to download the e-book into my phone, and life sitting idly in the bus or throne of thought was graced with some reading entertainment.
The novel caught my eye firstly because the novel title was, "Fiji." I thought, hey! I just happened to live in Fiji! Look at that!
At first, I thought it was some sort of biography of a dead dictator, or cannibal, or chief maybe. I was surprised to find out, this was a historical adventure fiction!
With a 19th century Fiji as a setting, the plot launches with the introduction of our heroes; the missionary and the musket trader. Oh the contradiction there, what a team!

Susannah Drake and her father Drake Snr are taking the word of God to a village in Momi Bay, meaning to save all their souls and instilling christianity into the village people.
Now, we aren't talking rainbows, sunshine and peace village people. We're talking, a village full of reformed cannibals who require human sacrifices for any little accomplishment they've made.
As a Fijian, I find the old traditions of our people fascinating and just as great as they are crude and gruesome. The novel touches on most of these now extinct practices, in mad detail and it's AWESOME! (However, do a little research after reading...you'll be surprised at what you'll find.)
Then ofcourse, I'm sorry I got carried away. Then, we have Nathan, the musket trader. He is more of a prick than a hero, at the beginning of the novel. The people of Fiji were all just a bunch of primitives, uncivilized in their ways and ignorant of their own resources. This was Nathan's point-of-view. How he had gone so far without getting eaten, is a mystery to me.
He just happens to be going to Momi Bay, and just happens to be on the same boat as dear Sussannah. DUN DUN DUN....

Momi Bay villagers themselves were facing an on-going war with the rebels, who were kidnapping women to grow their own brood of..um...rebels. Sussannah and Nathan, strangers torn by faith and culture, connected by their barely suppressed sexual chemistry, are thrown into this war and forced to take sides.

Obviously, the rebels are the bad guys.

Racial prejudice, religion, culture and family, I thought, were the underlying messages that the story carried with it.

The adventure, fast-paced and nail biting was a real page turner. The romance, sizzling, exciting, forbidden.

It was definitely well worth the read, and I give it my 5 stars because that's the maximum amount of stars we're allowed to give...

View all my reviews

Find it on Amazon and Goodreads

High school

Just two years out of high school and already, I find myself holding that "reminisce moment" look you catch the alumni members do when they come by school for the fundraisers. Now, as an alumni myself, I find myself gazing out at the white buildings of my high school whenever I happen by. Sometimes I think,
"They upgrade the school AFTER we leave!!? What kind of sick joke is this?"

Slight exaggeration there.



High School would definitely be one of the most trying periods in a person's life. I'd describe it as a a bowl of half-cooked taro leaves. They make you stronger but man, they leave your mouth with that long lasting itch.

There are so many things going on when in high school. Most of us were still trying to find ourselves and the pressure to fit in kicks up 500 notches when you start high school. Throw in puberty, school work and amateur socializing skills.

I was and still am a socially awkward person. High school life had it's torturous moments for me but there were, as I expect for everyone, those fond moments you wouldn't trade in for lovo roasted chicken and pork with raw fish in miti..................actually..........................
just kidding. High school either built or killed your esteem but luckily for me, we didn't have much of "cliques" and if we did, they were very inclusive ones.
Making friends wasn't too hard, and in my case I kept close to my friends in primary school.

 Personally, I regard everyone I knew from my first year of high school to my last, as a friend. Some of them, I have no idea how we even became friends in the first place. Others, I could recall vividly how we first met.

The first impression people got of me was that I was a quiet bookish braniac who didn't eat. Bookish, correct. Didn't eat? Maybe. Braniac? NO. I'm flattered people think that though.

One thing I remembered in school was that our mentality went something like this...

After high school, we looked back and remembered rainbows, sunshine, butterflies and singing. There were no detention or evil teachers or d grades. There was just heavenly bliss.

However, when I do seriously look back, I had to laugh at the things we got up to during school. We had a slightly rigid institution, where uniform and behavior was everything.
No nail polish, no make-up, stand up straight, watch what you say, how you walk, who you talk to and for heavens sakes wear your uniform right!

Of course we had those group of girls who deemed breaking the rules cool, and though it did give me a slight thrill when I did sometimes...most of the times...well, I tried my best to abide by the rules.

Half way through high school, the head teacher got sick of ranting over the intercom about tucking in our blouses...some of which we actually heard before we lowered the volume for more interesting music. She had had the last straw and bham! We were fitted with new uniforms the next year.

I pretty much hated the uniform because I was thin and the uniform in no way complimented my figure. I looked like a walking thin rectangle with a tie to match.

The tie! Oh man, the latest addition to the already dreary looking uniform that horribly contradicted the stifling summer heat of Fiji.

They hadn't even bothered to change the skirts to actually match the blouse so I looked like a rectangle with a flowing long skirt sheesh.

However, after leaving the school, the uniform seems to somehow transform before our eyes into a regal representation of pride and love for our school. The tie looked smart with the blouse and the skirt, to showcase the examples of modesty and lady like behavior of the women of that school. How could I have ever thought different??

One of the funniest moments of high school was detention. If you could call it that. Basically detention was physical education, and not even the ground-breaking kind. We were expected to run circles around the ENORMOUS school ground a few times and return to class as reformed students, vowing never to repeat the crime again.

Ofcourse, we'd end up back out there but all in all, everyone benefited. Our class time was cut short by our disciplinary marathons and our teachers are satisfied with the knowledge that the lesson has been learnt...once again.

Another form of detention was cleaning up. Notice that they punished us by improving our health and our surroundings.

In my first year of high school, during class once, we were taken aback to see students filing out in-front of the school building. Whatever the teacher was talking about fades out, because what was happening outside seemed a bit more interesting. We watched the students, red-faced, stand in a single row facing the main road during traffic rush hour.

The teacher by this time had stop talking, noticing no one was looking her direction, and she too turned to see the spectacle. The students outside held onto their ears and stood there for about five minutes.

Being juniours, we were gob-smacked and terrified that we'd be embarrassed like that when we misbehaved.

Then came cutting class. The only classes I'd skip out on was either music or P.E. Either I passed the time by writing or we'd have a round of cards with friends. P.E classes consisted of  a game of volleyball usually and music class was "catch up on notes" time.

As a result our class was musically talented and not lazy at all.

Another rule that was always broken was selling things in school. We had "the black market" at the back of our class where the girls who would sell sat. Most of the treats sold were things like "jodi", "chinese lolly", "packet of bean", "joki joki", "brownies" and "prunes."

The illegal activities began as soon as teachers were absent. The students grapevine was such that the whole school would know where the things were sold. Sometimes, teachers bought from students.

Students who sold had a hilarious tendency to call out whatever they were selling in a long dragged out matter, that it became a funny sort of tagline for our class.
"PRRUUUUNNNNNESSSSSSSSS"

It was especially funny when someone called that out randomly.

There are also those legendary run-ins with the head teacher that you tell your grand-children about. When you're in the situation where you will go head to head with the principal, remember every detail...even the colour of the sky, so that when you're out of high school you can tell it something like, "The sky had darkened slightly and I looked up a little confused. Then I saw the beautiful blue sky and realized....it was a shadow that darkened the area. Oh yes....the head teacher..was behind me."

The staff was nice and I got along with most of my teachers. I'm not saying I had a smooth journey with them, because in the last years of high school, I slacked off on academic work.

There were those teachers who attracted the need for a nickname, some by how funny their names were or others how they were dressed.

Imitating our teachers was a fun past time. We had teachers who looked more like they belonged in the military rather than in a school. Some who seemed to love the colour black. Some who used the same phrases over and over again. Those who couldn't control the students and dreaded having to come to class.

Honestly though, I admire these guys. Being a high school teacher must be one of the hardest occupations out there. My respect, they will forever have.

Anyway, it's just been two years really, and it's funny to see how much people change. I think for everyone, we'd remember people for how they were in high school. It was a place where society impacted us the most in molding us, our friends, our teachers and our subjects. It's a time of our life that we would hold most memorable either for being torturous, fun or having rainbows and butterflies.

The Uni Bliss

Half the semester's gone by and I'm still crawling in it's dust. Where is time rushing to so fast? Is there a train to catch? Is there a game on he's rushing off to see?
How selfish that he doesn't bother waiting for anyone else.

Special Relativity in Under 15 Minuteshttp://www.btinternet.com/~j.doyle/SR/sr2.htm

I thought high school was fast....but as it turns out, university time seems to run a little faster than the rest of the world. I remember reading someone's tweet, "Notice how Monday is so far from the weekend and the weekend is so close to Monday?"

With time flying and the end of the semester (seemingly so far away) is creeping not around but close to the corner, I've been trying to juggle the amount of assignments thrown our way from my different courses.
I'm pretty proud that I haven't keeled over yet and that my friends and I are "coping."

The routine remains the same. Wake up early. Get dressed. Breakfast. Uni.

Well, I guess it doesn't usually work out that way.

Waking up early depends on the time of class. Unfortunately, with my life somehow a magnet for the worst that luck has to offer, I'm slotted for an 8am class both on Monday and Friday. With my mobile phone, the assistant to the internet which is the central and a control panel of organisation in my life, I set up alarm schedules  and calender appointments so that I can remember things.

At 4.55am, the shrill call of my mobile phone jars half the neighbourhood awake but for some reason can't penetrate the shield of sleep my sisters have themselves incased in. Ofcourse because the phone is usually right by my ear, I'm deaf half the morning because the alarm goes off more than once.

No one bothers with the 4.55am, because that's just the first siege at the impenetrable shield of sleep. It scratches the surface a little and will rouse a series of tossing and turning from members of the family.

Then, we have the 5.00am alarm, which is just 5 minutes following, that manages to dent the shield of sleep. For me, my ear's ringing as loudly as the alarm and so the third alarm takes over. My voice.

A few encouraging words to get out of bed and a few threats after, the house is up and running.

This routine excludes my father and baby brother. They have some kind of bio-clock that sets them to awaken at an ungodly hour in the morning.

Breakfast is almost always a nada. I'm pretty sure no one in my 8am class has breakfast regularly every monday morning. It is an impossible feat. I am not sure if such demi-gods exist in my class. Unfortunately, I'm just the average human who marches into the university compound with a bag of maccas in my hand.

On the other hand, when money is a little tight, a nice carton of pineapple juice and a cookie will do.

I'm usually first to arrive but now and then we have those super-beings that deny the gravitational power of sleep, sitting around the classroom. It's an amazing spectacle and I have to stop and wonder for a second about how these people live, before continuing on.

Lectures last for two hours, and ofcourse it seems to be lengthier on Mondays than it is on Fridays. Monday manages  to turn everything into a drag. Even buying food. Even eating food. Come on mouth why aren't you chewing faster? Why isn't this food disappearing quickly enough?

It sucks out the joy out of life. Evil Mondays.

Now ofcourse there's always that element of any institution, organization and groups of human beings that make things a little bit interesting....
Drama.

Drama in university would rival the tv shows that seem to kill off your brain cells every minute you watch. Whether or not you're involved, you know every bit of detail on what's going on.

The catalysts for these ofcourse would include facebook and twitter. Know, that no one is safe. Every word spoken and whispered is broadcasted. There ARE no secrets.

That actually makes a pretty good tag line for a tv show.

Anyway, recently we've been amassed with drama. Of what nature, of who is involved and what it is about, unfortunately I can't speak off.

The inner politics of class, and class organizations are entertaining...that much, I can say.

I also found out my high school teacher is teaching one of my courses.....awkward.

University curriculum strains and fragments our brains into little pieces so that we have to keep running around to collect them into our woven basket. I've been so engrossed in university, I've neglected much of my social life.

Social life here is referring to the novels that I have to drag reading and the tv shows I managed to access on youtube.

High school students are out on holiday at the moment but things in uni are as hectic as ever. I look towards these high schoolers with envy.

I think it's safe to say, I have actually settled into uni. To say otherwise would mean I'm absolutely hopeless, seeing as I've been here two years.

The "uni bliss" isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Then again, most things in life aren't what we expect it to be.

As meaningless as this blog post was, I thought I'd put something up since I haven't updated in a while.

Yes, I am alive. The university has not eaten me up.

Until the next time, have a good week.

Some things never change...

Usually, I depend on the alarm clock or the shrill screeches of the siblings to rouse me up early, 5am in the morning. This morning however, despite going to bed at a painful 2am in the morning, my eyes fluttered open at around 6am (an hour later than the usual 5am but still on time) and I had class to attend, 2 hours from then. It seemed as if my butt was heavier this morning than it was any other morning. The physical effort it took to inch to the side of the bed and the massive exertion to sit up was so overwhelming, that for a second, I was going to come down with a rare morning disease and miss Uni. Just for a second.
Common sense returned, inspired by the smell of fresh bread and raspberry jam in the kitchen. I honestly don't know how I managed to stand with the amount of strength that small action required. Why hadn't I developed a 6-pack yet with the amount of work I do every morning. Sheesh. How unfair life was.
I detoured a little around the house to evaluate who in the household were awake...everyone. Even my few months only brother was giggling in the room. Honestly. Where did they get their morning zeal from? Meanwhile, I felt like I had just got back from a session of weights (minus the perspiration).

I reached the Uni gates at 7:15am in the morning and already I could feel the heat and humidity building up a pespiration welcoming committee. There is that one miracle- air conditioning, which saves all our souls from the angsty equator running around nearby. Not that I like air-conditioning. I want to feel cooler...not get ship offed to Alaska. Honestly.

There was to be a test this morning and that familiar burn in the insides of my stomach had began. The heady scent of information was overpowering. The panic of not knowing enough repelled the affects of air conditioning so that I resembled one of those anime characters where the camera is zoomed up to the rain drop bead of sweat near the apostrophe eyes.

The seconds that crawled like a snail during class was flashing by, drawing the arrival of the professor and the dreaded test closer. I probably wasn't ready this morning because we had this test every Friday...and I didn't usually panic. Today I was. Nothing seemed to stick. My brain was crumbling into pieces of jig saw that just couldn't match up.

Students poured in, under massive amounts of newspapers from the whole week, trying to get in as much information as they can. To think it was only a multiple choice, true and false question- here we were preparing for what looked like the Finals. Then suddenly, a student stood and it was almost as if she had been an angel sent by God.

Slowly she gestured to her screen and in a loud voice proclaimed;
"This class has been cancelled."
The skies cleared up of all clouds, bright light seared across the darkened plains and a group of chorusing cherubs fluttered invisibly towards us. Oh glory be! There was no class! Alleluia!

The burden was lifted from our shoulders and again we could roam this earth freely, for the plague had passed.

 Unfortunately, our professor was sick and I do hope he gets better soon. I'm glad he took time off today to think about himself and his health and that's our utmost concern. That he takes as loooong as he needs but, just keep updating us on what we need to read up on to keep up.

Hope you get better soon, sir.

This scenario was so famous in Primary School and Secondary School. Looks like, somethings don't change.

Turning the big 2-0

I turn 20 today! 19 March, 2012. Another milestone in my life. Another stair up the staircase of life's journey. Another year. Another Age.

Initially, I was dreading this day; the moment when your teen years slip away and you're into the dimension of adulthood. That moment when your maturity level is suppose to increase and you're expected not to watch Power Rangers. The year you should have at least a mental picture on what to do with your life.

So how do I feel as a 20 year old? Well, I haven't grown an inch since yesterday and I'd like to catch tonight's episode of Spongebob. What do I want to do with my life? I want to rule the world and accomplish what Pinky and the Brain never could.

Age. Another thing humans like to discriminate against, as well as race, religion, colour and so on and so forth.

Maturity isn't defined by age; well, I don't think it is, anyway. It's defined by your experiences in life, what you've learnt from your mistakes and the mistakes of those before you.

My definition of age, is that it's a reminder not to waste your time away on trivial things. Like trying to squelch your individualism to the standards society has set and following suit like water in the river. As a 20 year old, I'm not really interested in clubbing or acting like a sex-starved cow during mating season, like sadly, how some girls my age do. I said "some". Before anyone starts throwing accusations at me. If that's the "norm" of society than count me out. If that means I'm going to be classified as a dork, geek or weirdo; fine with me.
Excuse me, but my sense of dignity is a little different.

Twenty years on this Earth isn't much really and yet still..quite a long time. I still refer to the 90's as "ten years ago". Time flies by so fast. Excuse the cliche.
On the other hand, so much has happened in my life and time seems so slow sometimes. Like high school. I feel as if I've left high school years ago. Except, that was just two years ago.

 I like being young and I like embracing my youth. I'd rather not rush into life, trying to be older than I am and having to look back mournfully later at the lost years.

I also love when people take time to wish you a Happy Birthday. Thank you FACEBOOK.
I was about to call it a night, this morning around 1am but just checked on all emails a last time. That also included a peek on twitter and facebook. Lo and behold, I already had birthday wishes posted on my wall. At one in the morning!

So a sinister grin crossed my face and I sat in front of the monitor watching my notifications icon with folded hands. It has begun...

I kid. I actually just replied to every comment(..and yes, I actually do reply to each comment. That's how grateful I am) and thanked them heartily. Especially that they'd been so quick to send the birthday wishes.

Thank you everyone for the birthday wishes. I love you all so much.

I'm not sure if birthdays are times for resolutions or anything like that, because for me I'd rather just have food...or money...or new stuff. Materialistic? Very.
It's lent anyway and we have New Years for that. Give me a break.

I think though, now that I'm twenty, things are going to have to change. I'm not talking drastic changes like giving up cartoons and bongos, but more on the side of responsibility and a self evaluation on how to become a better person.

Life is waiting with open arms, ready to throttle embrace you, so live all you can!

Thank goodness for poetry

It looks grey outside. Almost blue, but the chilly kind of blue. The kind of blue that only dampens your mood. The rain is pouring in buckets and blanketing everyone with the loud continuous roar of it's wrath. It's cold. It's gloomy. I don't know if the weather was taunting me by mimicking my mood or just empathizing with me.

The terrible thing of having a blog about expressing myself, is knowing that when it comes down to it., I actually can't. Not fully anyway. Not the way I want to. This isn't a vent area as much as I want it to be, or anyone else for that matter. Lucky you guys who can actually keep a diary.

Anyhow, instead of blabbing on and on about nothing, I thought I'd write a poem. I know I already have a page for it but I think I'll throw one on here. 

The cold draft seeps in through the gaps in the windows
like the slice of sadness that slipped into her heart
It spread, flooded, numbed and yet pained, 
lethal like a poisonous dart.


I definitely feel a little better. Well in a way, I had it my way and used this post to vent. On the other hand, I actually couldn't vent and now I think no one's listening.

Sorry for this post guys. I just needed to throw something out there.

xoxoxoxo


 

Facebook Statuses???

Another round of rainy weather for Suva, the capital of Fiji and so sitting indoors, I thought I'd mingle with my fellow twitter users and check in on Facebook.

Since joining twitter, I've left it up to my twitter feed to update my Facebook status; my favourite part of having a Facebook profile, but now and then, I like to check my Facebook home page to see how everyone's doing.

It's amazing how much we can piece together about people just by reading their facebook statuses or wall posts even for that matter, since they're public.....

Therein begins the subject matter of this post. You know your facebook status is viewable to EVERYONE who has either subscribed to you or have you added as a friend.

First of all, not to seem like a hypocrite, I'm actually one of those who fanatically update their FB status.

Probably those poor souls I've added would understand, since I flood their home page every day with the current weather, global political situations, global human rights issues, rants about music, about being hungry, about the weather, about the transport, about the book I'm reading, what page of the book I'm reading, what line I am up to in the book I'm reading, what tv show I might be watching that very moment, what tv shows I  liked watching, movies, actors, actresses, random people I see, random people I meet (yes there's a difference), youtube shares, articles I've read, Uni, RUGBY and of course the rare angry statuses that pop up now and again.

What I don't do on my status? I don't call anyone out. That's totally unnecessary and only causes more trouble. A nice little cryptic message or general update or even an "ARRRGHHHHHHHH GRRRRR RAWWWRRRRRRRR" would do. Rugby is an exception.

On the other hand, if I wrote "Excuse me (name of person), I think your hair looks like something I use to keep my computer free of dust particles..." that would be very rude, I don't even know why people would bother posting up something like that. Not to mention, the amount of trouble it could stir and danger it could put people in.

I don't make obvious statuses about my relationships and to whom I'm referring to if I throw up something that sounds pretty deep. People who know me, know I put up pretty deep statuses.
HAHA!

I kid.

Seriously though, I have my dignity.

If you have family problems or boy/girl problems, some of us do care (contrary to what people may tell you) and all you have to do is call us up and vent. I'm always going to be there to listen. However! Save me the melodramatic statuses please. I like statuses like, "One of the worst feelings you could feel is missing someone who will never miss you back." A classic pote scenario but I can empathize. A small general update on the family situation or boy situation is okay. What I don't do is, "OH ROBBIE TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK!" -_- If he or she is worth it, I don't know about other people, but I don't mind an epic speech status or poem or something deep. There's always a better way to go about it.

Then we have, the opinionated people.
Oh lord, where do I start.

I love that people use their status to express their concerns and views on things. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion even if it is contradictory to someone else's. In my case, I like to read contradictory opinions to see where someone is coming from with their argument or view. I know there are other people who do that too, because it gives you a better understanding and a broader view on a certain subject.

HOWEVER.

There is a way to express your opinion without being too offensive to what someone else believes in. If you know what you believe in may offend someone else, it's either you don't put it up if it isn't worth any fuss over or put it in a way that's CONSTRUCTIVE! Sometimes you can't help that it will offend people, but try for them to understand you instead of shoving your beliefs down someone's throat.

I came across a status of this young lady on facebook and she's infamous for her blunt opinions and in most cases, rather offensive statuses. Why I haven't unadded her is because she, in all her mis-led ways, is pretty brilliant. I definitely "get" her most of the time but sometimes she makes me want to throttle her.

Here is the most famous over-used lines for rudely opinionated people;
"This is my opinion and if you don't like it, too bad." That was edited. "My  page and therefore I can post up whatever I like." Edited. Remember guys, people you've added read what you have to say and if you post it publicly, expect a response. You may own your page but you don't own facebook.

Here's one that pisses me off.
My freedom of speech.

.....

There are societies and cultures in this world where freedom of speech is severely restricted or basically non-existent. People die trying to advocate and people die in the cause for their human right, to be heard. People are severely punished for speaking out. People are forced to take mistreatment quietly.

How could online users be so ignorant and so careless to use that term, Freedom of speech, so lightly. Freedom of speech is a human right, it's not a light concept, and just like everything in this world it comes with responsibilities. Know when to draw the line on what is your right to be heard and when you're abusing that right.  You can't be heard if there are no one listening, so why would anyone hear you if you refuse to listen to the other side. It's not black and white, you can't say whatever you like.

If you have a right to opinion and the right to speech, learn to treasure and utilize that for the greater good. Not something as trivial as facebook statuses that are so poorly written, they offend masses of people.

Now, last but not least, your status location.

This is common sense, but for the sake of those who lack it, don't put up your exact locations on your status.
"I'm at Uni or at Church," is fine with me. "I'm standing at the white gate across boulevard right now," is not fine. If you see a shady character with a blackberry phone looking between you and his phone...and you know what you've just posted up-RUN.

Here, I'll end my rant. I really didn't mean to but oh well. Feel free to leave comments and I hope I haven't offended anyone. These are just some of my concerns on facebook statuses and if you think I was unfair or hypocritical in some way please leave a comment (constructive one). This was not meant to offend, just my views. I hope everyone has a good day!

Till next time!

Back in the Game

So I woke up this morning, hopping out of bed like a Kangaroo because I had forgotten to do dad's typing the night before. I'll just throw in a sheepish grin there.
I spent the morning doing some typing, before remembering that today was the day I was going to receive the verdict from the assessors on whether or not I was going to be accepted back into my course.
Despite my positive attitude one blog ago, the thought only served as a mood damper.
I think all Fijians would know that feeling where during a rugby game ( yes, I'm resorting to rugby examples. Bite me) the team is winning and then suddenly, 10 seconds before the game is about to finish the opposing team manages to draw the points resulting in extra time.
Everyone's at the edge of their sits, are we going to win? Are we going to lose? What's the referee's name?

There's always that stray pessimism that sinks in and makes you think, "This is it. It's the end. We're going to lose."

That's the path my mentality chose to take and so I got my shovel out and begun to dig a hole. My calligraphy skills were non-existent, so my tomb stone read something like-

Then, I realized my flower looked like a handicapped butterfly, so I needed to start again. Except, I didn't have enough time, because I had classes to get to.
I arrived in school, weaving my way through the labyrinth of construction (Slight exaggeration) and marched towards the lion's office.

I got there, took a breather and then strolled in..like boss!

Not really.

He's such a morning, day, afternoon person...I don't think he's ever without he's perkiness.

After confirming twice that the writing I submitted to him was not edited, he agreed to accept me on the basis of my ability and my word that I was going to do my best.

The titanic relief engulfed me, I had to just get out of the office, sprint across the campus and sing "Joy to the world."

Except, I didn't do that because of two reasons; hearing aids would go scarce and probably face a price increase in Suva and I had to wait ten more months before singing that song or else my mental state would receive severe scrutiny from the public.

Instead, I looked a little bit more light on my feet as I headed out to my next destination. The day looked brighter, the air smelled cleaner and oh was that a bunny!!?

Oops, sorry no. Just a mongoose.

I paraded across the campus, went to the Radio Pasifik office and submitted my application to be a volunteer. We'll see how that goes.
Now I'm sitting below a merciless air conditioner in the great white north of the campus, called the ITS lab keeping the blood circulation in my hands going by typing up this blog.

I couldn't wait, I had to have this up. I'm back in the game and I can't wait to continue the semester after the tragic tumble I received in my first week.

It's funny how much your faith gets tested, and seeing as I got out of a situation I thought was hopeless; I guess I realized, I hadn't gotten out empty handed.

I learnt something. There's always hope as long as you have faith and as long as you persevere. In this case, I just won the first battle,  and that was, just getting in. The academic year is just starting and I hope nothing too terrible pops up in the near future.

Now to bear the next 2 hours of class, being taught how to turn a computer on while trying to survive the sudden bout of winter the air conditioner blessed me with  -_- How exciting!

One more lesson. Wear mittens when going to the ITS lab.

See you soon =)

When Life Gives you Lemons

Recently, I've been upset with Uni for dropping me from my course. To say I had been looking forward to starting this course, is the biggest understatement I could ever make. I want to do Journalism. I applied last year, and I got in last year.
Then suddenly, in the first week of the semester, "bloop".
Sorry guys, you've been dropped. Our bad. -_-

FIRST OF ALL, we didn't get a phone call or mail but a nice little bulletin post on the Uni website.
I knew that a few students were going to be dropped but I was pretty sure I was okay, I mean...I've been enrolled for almost a year now...

So, my first reaction, looked something like this-

See, I wasn't sure if I was seeing right. I switched the monitor off and then on and then off again...but there it was. Clearer than the blue of the sky in a cloudless day. I logged off and logged on. Nope, it really was there. Me. I've been dropped! By then, I looked something like this-

I couldn't believe it. My hopes! My dreams! Gone in a flash! Distraught, I did my best to calm down before e-mailing the lecturer to find out what had happened. I was calm, sensible and did my best to keep the e-mail formal but yet personal enough to show how disappointed I was.

  

After that, I hit twitter, facebook, msn and any other website I knew, trying to contact all the other poor victims of this wretched nightmare. That only got me more worked up, and then I looked like this-

 

I had my whole speech worked out in my head, because I knew that I'd end up having to approach the lecturer personally. It wasn't long before I received a short e-mail that basically repeated the insignificant looking bulletin board and something that resembled an apology. I wasn't angry than, just disheartened.
Next day, speech in mind and guns loaded (metaphorically of-course), I marched into the campus towards the office.
With every step my anger and my distraught grew, until I was literally quivering by the time I reached the office door. There it stood, beckoning me with an aura of authority to step up into the ring and fight a battle where I was inevitably going to be the lamb in a fight with the lion.
I grasped the door knob..turned it, prayed....
locked.

Pote.

Frustrated, I  walked around the campus aimlessly with drooping shoulders until I saw the lecturer himself walking towards his office. I followed him, barged in meekly, apologized and squeaked an introduction.
I was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

I was told to attend class with the rest of those accepted....and then managed to talk with him after the class.

They were basing my being dropped on my high school marks...two years ago.
I couldn't believe it, but sadly, that was the case.

Luckily, the lion was going to give me a chance.

He wanted to see my writing the next day.

A friend of mine, Jo, I mentioned her once in the blog, had been present. She too had been dropped. This was her reaction.

I have never met someone as brimming with optimism as she was. The girl had no cloud in her sky. All she did was smile, say that she had a good feeling about this and waltzed off.

She made me feel better, but because I hadn't eaten the day before (I had been too upset to eat), I got hungry.
Again she surprises me. She produces egg sandwiches, and we sat at a free table lunching away as if our career and future wasn't about to walk the plank.

I got home, fueled by Jo's encouragement and slept more peacefully than I had the day before.

I'm still not sure if I'll be accepted and there's a pretty good chance I won't be able to get back in. I'm upset about it of course, but what can I do?

 It occurred to me that this was what they meant by "when life hands you lemons...."

HAHA I'm joking!

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. If I am dropped from Journalism, than maybe there is something I'm meant to do first before pursuing it and if my love for writing tells me anything, it's that, I will get back. Somehow, even if it isn't now. I'll pursue law and maybe volunteer for community projects in my free time.

It's not the end of the world and definitely not the end of this dream.

Ash Wednesday- Second day of Uni

I've just gotten home, and I'm tired, sore, tired, sleepy, tired and just, really tired. I'm not saying I had a bad day, but even good days can take a lot from you. All I wish for right now is my blanket, my pillow and my bed. Unfortunately, life and fate are like college fraternity guys, playing those pranks on the unsuspecting newbies before shoving them into a series of hazing just to see how tough and how much worth they are.
Who else better to bring in for that job, than family? They have the power to make or break you...and man, am I near breaking point.

Therefore! I've turned to the soothing balm that blogger offers and will dutifully relay the lovely day to you.

Ashamed as I am to admit this, I had literally no idea it was Ash Wednesday today. I consider myself  a good Catholic, but obviously, not adequate enough to know our own Liturgical calendar. After finding out, of course, I made plans for mass except, I realized, the interview I had for a course assignment was at the same time. Well not exactly; mass was going to be from 9am-10am and I was to meet the girl in Uni at 10am. Since mass was obviously more important, I prayed the girl (let's call her Jo) could wait a few more minutes.

My dad usually drops the kids off at school by 7:30am, and because I was an early bird (actually, I didn't want to catch the bus) I ended up going along for the ride. The school was going to be leading the mass at the Cathedral; they're both basically situated side by side. It didn't occur to me how much time I had to kill till mass started *slaps forehead* and I hadn't any extra money to go look rich in McDonalds. So, I made myself look busy and walked around the church for a while. Not too long, when I knew that if I continued I'd start getting strange looks, I decided to walk to the bus stand. What was I going to do?  I had no idea. It was an adventure! Maybe I'd find 10 bucks on the ground so I could go look rich in McDonalds.

I went on my way through Suva, bumping into former primary teacher's of mine who seemed really please to see me (No, I was never teacher's pet) and a few little kids from my sisters' school who recognized me as so and so's big sister. I jay walked a few places when I made sure there wasn't any police around. As everyone in our beautiful island nation knows, the fee for jaywalking was about $40. The thing was, the lights took ages to turn green and it would stay green for approximately 5 seconds, you'd have to run across to make it. Then there were the awkward locations the crossings were situated where there's normally no traffic, and you're just standing there for ten minutes staring at the person across the road....and there's not a vehicle in sight.

The city was brimming with people, which was unusual for that time of the morning, but not unusual for Ash Wednesday, with all the Catholics hurrying to mass. I got to the bus stand and there was nothing to see but herds of high school students standing around like cow grazing in a meadow. Not moving. Just standing there and chewing.
I circled the bus stand, then made up my mind to buy something in case someone (as unlikely as it would sound) was keeping tabs on my aimless wandering, just to prove that I actually planned this all along. To walk past the dozens of shops in the city to buy juice at the bus stand....

On my way back to Church, I met a friend of mine who had left my Uni to go to med school. We caught up with each other before bidding goodbye, and I was back to my mass mission.

I made it to mass, I can't say what the sermon was about, the priest was reading off a piece of paper and mispronouncing words. I suspected someone else wrote his sermon.

 Apart from that, mass was lovely and I felt jovial after, ready to take on Uni.



I walked up to the bus stop, waited almost 15 minutes for the bus to arrive and I was off to Uni.

Another embarrassing moment, I didn't recognize the girl I was supposed to meet, despite sitting beside her for two hours, 48 hours ago. She waved her hand at me and all I could think was, "Goodness, could she be related to me? Was she someone from Student life? Was she an old friend? A neighbour?"
I wasn't fast enough to hide my confusion, but I recognized her accent as soon as she exclaimed, "OH COME ON!"
I grinned sheepishly and just said, "I'm not good with faces." I felt so bad. First, I ditched her for mass. I was late meeting her. Than, I forgot who she is! I was not making  a good impression of myself. I should have bought her coffee. Or peanuts. Or something.
Instead, I led her half way across Uni to the "white tables" and we got started with the assignment. She's forgiving like that.

I'd forgotten my watch at home, so I was completely dependent on her ( We're supposed to call her Jo, remember?) for time keeping. The thing was, I'd left Church at approximately 10am, and she informed me that it was 11.30am. How come it took an hour and a half to get to Uni, was a mystery. It should have taken only 15 minutes or max, 30 minutes. Where had the time gone?

I asked Jo if her time was correct and she replied, yes. Her time had been wrong earlier but a friend of hers corrected her. So her time was updated and correct.


We found out that coincidentally, we were also in the same class in another course.The class was at 2pm and so we made our way there at 1.45pm.

We reached the class, I opened the door and stepped in with Jo. The class was full and the lecturer stopped talking and turned to us quizzically.
"We're having class."

I asked if it was our course. And she goes, "Class is almost finished"

..............................................
In Fijian, the word that could adequately explain that moment would be, POTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 For the meaning of pote in Urban Dictionary, click here.

Right, so we head to the bathroom and than burst into giggles. Good lord, what everyone in that class, including the lecturer thought of us!

Just 10 seconds later, out of all people to burst into the ladies bathroom, it's the lecturer herself. She demanded where we had been all day, and I'm silently cursing Jo's time-keeping skills. I explained that we had class from 2pm-4pm, to which the lecturer looks confused.

"It's 12.30pm."

POTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jo continues to look confused, but I burst into raucous laughter, trying to suppress the urge to fall to the floor and roll around in laughter. The lecturer, who had been beginning to apply her lipstick had to stop halfway to join in, laughing at our crazy situation.

We hadn't been late to class. We'd been too early! We were almost two hours early. Thanks to Jo's time keeping skill! Or actually, whoever it had been earlier who'd said her time was wrong.

The lecturer, her application of make up forgotten, was leaning over the sink still laughing. All she managed to get through her laughter was,
"I...laugh laugh laughl...thought you were...laugh laugh...late!"

My face had turned tomato coloured and all I could think was, I'm never setting foot outside this bathroom.

The lecturer, seeing our embarrassment, tried to console us,
"Give them a couple of days, and they'll forget."

A COUPLE OF DAYS!

She even relayed a story to us about one of her most embarrassing moments in Uni, when she accidentally set off a fire extinguisher she'd been playing around with in one of the class rooms. The room looked like a snow blizzard had hit and of course, she hadn't had anywhere to hide.

That made us feel a little better, but we became seriously paranoid. Whenever someone laughed around us, we were convinced they'd been in that class we'd barged into earlier and they remembered us.

So embarrassing. Major Pote.

Luckily, we had our time corrected and made the class ON time.


It had gotten cold outside, and in the lab I sat directly under the air condition.
Why don't they ship me to Antarctica while they're at it??

I was tired and cold, which worsened the urge to sleep but luckily I was sitting right in front of the lecturer, inspiration enough not to sleep. She was a good lecturer too.

After class, I bought Jo and I peanuts, because we had had an interesting ordeal. We'll probably see each other on Friday, and until then we've got to work on our assignments and study for the quiz.


THAT was how my Ash Wednesday happened.

So HELLO to LENT!! May the next 40 days be fruitful and a spiritually inspirational one.

Uni Begins

5am in the morning, the birds were still rousing themselves from sleep and the Sun was just about to peek from the East horizon. Monday morning, the most intolerable morning for almost everyone, except for those rare optimists who seem to like giving themselves false hope. It was Monday! Enough said!
Except, it wasn't just ANY Monday...it was the beginning of a new semester of a new year of University Life. My first lecture of the day was going to be at 8am, and I was just brimming with enthusiasm.
5am sharp, I was out of bed singing one of those lardy da songs and breathing in the cold morning air. It was a moment of complete euphoria, and I had this crazy urge to share my joy and happiness with the world. I threw open the windows and a rainbow streamed across the sky in welcome. The birds sung a wonderful little hymn and a tiny blue rice bird flitted in and landed on my finger.
....
Okay, maybe it didn't happen like that. I woke up to my sisters squabbling over bathroom hogging and the smell of burnt sausages wafted from the kitchen. After a few minutes of vainly trying to get the arguing banshees to be quiet, I thought better of wasting my time and got up to part take in the bathroom hogging. The shower smacked some alertness into me and then the feeling of Euphoria hit. The enthusiasm about finally starting a journalism course, maybe meet new people and well, basically, just the thought of an escape from the house was enough fuel for the morning. I moved around with this hidden smile of pleasure (everyone else was having a bad morning, so any sign of happiness from me would have upset the balance of nature), rechecked my timetable, lecture time and location and everything I needed in my bag. I was all set!

I arrived about an hour early or maybe, an hour and a half early. I had a quick memory flashback of how it was on my first day of University last year, standing right where I was at the moment by the bus booth. The University had seemed to loom over me like one of those monsters out of Goosebumps (Goosebumps was scary!!) ready to devour my soul and replace me with a zombie changeling to return home to my unsuspecting family and steal my internet....The thought was so horrifying. My imagination only seemed to feed my pessimism, and I swear it seemed like as soon as I entered the Uni compound, every student turned to stare at me with a blank zombie look of people who'd just been replaced by changelings, and had their net stolen from them.
How I survived that first year is still a mystery.
Needless to say, they weren't able to turn me into one of them, and I remain a free soul wandering among zombies, fighting for their freedom and the redemption of that lost society.
Anyway, back to the present. The University didn't look as threatening or felt as overwhelming this time. It just looked like a recreational center people go to, to sit in posh constructed fales (samoan house. google it) and lounge around in parks for a nice round of talanoa (chatting) sessions. There were other insignificant buildings spread around in a random arrangement in between. It was this in-between recreation sessions where you're suppose to listen to someone else talk and memorize every word till they ask you again on paper at the end of the year. It's a very complicated zombifying experience. I actually enjoy them sometimes. That's probably not normal.

One thing was for certain. As soon as I walked in, there were zombie students perched along the verandah of one of the buildings just doing that blank stare they had done last year. Hmm. I thought I'd imagined it.
Somehow, my eyes and memory began to bugger up and sputter out into giving me the wrong room number and location. I kept circling the building a few times, until my common sense popped back in and I rechecked the location and room number to find that I was in the wrong place after all.
It took me a while to find the room, after stalking a few students who seemed to know where they were going and hearing the word "Journalism" erupt between the other gibberish they were spouting. I thought for a second they were taking me to my doom and this was all some conspiracy set up to zombify me.
I followed them to a building with narrow winding steps leading down into some sort of dark corridor, keeping an eye out for any alien invasion or someone looking to kidnap them self a free soul. 
As it turned out, our lecture theater was something....well...as described  by our lecturer, "a dungeon of folly". For me, it was right out of those thrillers where someone is kidnapped and thrown into this abandoned room, or cell of some sort with random pieces of wiring and electrical debris sticking out of the concrete. The lights didn't work and the windows were pieces of wood nailed into the gaps in the walls.
It was exciting!

Our lecturer was a Canadian man, maybe in his 40's or 50's, I couldn't tell. He was a good humoured man, and I began to wonder how someone like him could end up in this kidnapping cell. Poor guy. He was stuck here with the zombies and the rare few of us, free souls.
I could tell already, I'd enjoy his class but he was going to make us eat dirt and break sweat in this subtle form of training to pass the course.

He went through a brief...(well no, not brief, we probably know his life story by now), history of himself, before encouraging us to do so.
I was the one who disrupted the silence with a loud sneeze and the Professor was kind enough to say "Bless you", before explaining the Jewish belief that when someone sneezes, the devil could steal their soul unless there is a blessing at the same time.
I didn't even know him, but he bothered to save my soul. I was indebted to him forever.

He even knew my uncle! That's another story.

At the end of the lecture, we were given assignments to interview a fellow classmate and write up an article on them. I haven't started on that yet but I got the girl beside me to be my partner. She seemed nice. I was going to ask her where she lived, her e-mail, her address and how she felt growing up where ever she grew up in.
I can't wait!

That was how my first lecture unfolded and I'm enthused about the tutorial coming up on Friday. As for tomorrow, I've been condemned to a visit to the dentist to investigate the wisdom tooth that declared war on my jaw last week. That is a battle I'm definitely going to win and until then, I shall be holding back the quiver of glee at the prospect of another day at Uni.

The Week in one Post

Another week in Suva blessed with a cloudless sky and sunshine! Hello Yellow Orb! I've never loved you more.

 It's been a week since the Las Vegas Sevens, Valentine's Day and the death of Whitney Houston. An interesting week for everyone, I think, as well as with the Grammy following right after.






Now with the Rugby Weekend over, everyone's settled down to a less rowdy state to welcome St.Valentine's day. If anyone's wondering what happened with the Las Vegas rugby tournament, keep wondering....

Aha! I joke.

Fiji barreled out of the tournament in the Quarter Finals after Samoa's coconut tree proved more steadier than ours.

A shame really, but I thought Samoa definitely deserved that win. Fiji has been so inconsistent with their game and New Zealand is definitely the team to beat. Why??

Gordon Tietjens Source: nz.sports.yahoo.com

 

 

Could it be because of
<<<<<<this guy?
Fiji fans would know how much of a euphoria it is when the camera decides to film THIS man when NZ is losing. The man always has a frown on his face, and you can definitely look forward to the famous pinching of the bridge of his nose when thing's don't go his way.

<<<< Because of this??

 Hide yo wives, lock up yo daughters!! They're doing the haka out there!

Source: schoolchallenge.org

This???


Aaah, the patriotism. You gotta love it.








OR.......

 
Notice something interesting about him?
No?
Come on...try harder.
RIGHT!!
HE'S FIJIAN!!!!!
A Fijian player in the All Blacks team. I think this is a more subtle form of black-birding. Black Kiwi-ing AHA! Come on...that was FUNNY!



Anyway, after Fiji fell out of the game, flopping off the field like a couple of fish on dry land, Samoa moved on to the final to face off with New Zealand. So, it was the coconut tree versus the kiwi. That game turned out something like this...

A hearty Congratulations to Samoa! 

 


On to other news!!


Valentine's day hit next, I think you all know what I think about that. (Click here if you don't)

I'm not too interested in the Grammy, so I'm not going to bother blogging about it. I mean, after losing the beautiful Whitney Houston, Etta James and Michael Jackson, you realize, what's left of the music industry, is a circus act.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

source: Fashionstlyeme.com

 
On the other hand, we still have HOPE. Her name is, Adele and she's is probably one of the few means of redemption left for the world of music.












With that said, I think I've covered much of last week, I will bid thee all "adieu".

The Death of a Legend

I think we've all heard by now that the woman known as "The Voice", Whitney Houston, has passed today at the age of 48. At first I thought it was one of those "Miley Cyrus has died" sort of fake trends but sadly, sadly, sadly, Whitney Houston has indeed been called from Earth. It won't be long before R.I.P The Voice or R.I.P Whitney Houston trends world wide.

She was an inspiration to the world of music and definitely to her global plate of fans. She had her fair share of problems, sadly, with drug abuse especially. That doesn't change anything though, she will always be remembered and loved for gracing us all with the gift of her talent.  I dedicate this post, to the beautiful, talented, Whitney Houston.



We will miss you Whitney.

Rugby

The sun's out again and just in time too! It's another Rugby Weekend, and this week it's the Las Vegas 7s! 

I thought maybe it might not be a good idea to have a blog about rugby...but hey! I'm Fijian! We live and breath rugby! Our Nation has held the 7s world cup Twice! I wouldn't be a true Fijian if I didn't have any rugby-related items posted on here. So here I am, being patriotic, flying our flag, singing as much of our National Anthem as I can remember and blogging about Rugby.

Last week, Fiji managed to reach the finals in the Wellington Sevens and faced off with the All Blacks Team (New Zealand). Now even though they left us in their dust and smacked us hard with the taste of defeat, we should be grateful at least that the team reached the final. And even though now New Zealand is leading on the World Series Title Score Board, leaving Fiji trailing in second we should be thankful that we're not last...

I mean, hey...we didn't win. No hard feelings...

So this week, we have new hope! Maybe, we can actually win the tournament this time.
AND SO BEGINS THE SAME OLE RITUAL....

Usually the guys get together, the family even, around a bowl of grog with the television set atop a pedestal in all it's glory.

NO ONE is allowed to walk by the television (you'll be excused if you're made out of glass), the remote must be in arm's reach and if you think about changing the channel....do it with the knowledge that you WILL die.
If need be, they'll stick an insignificant nobody on the roof to hold the aerial in place, or maybe those small rabbit eared aerials out the window.
Everyone will have a pen and paper ready to write to the paper editors, their reviews on the game.

Right before the team plays:

x1: GO FIJI! WE CAN DO IT!
X2: Supporting Team Fiji! YEA YEAH WOOT!
X3: Bring home the cup boys!


During the game:


If the team makes a mistake-

X1: WTF WAS THAT REF!?
X2: COME ON!
X3: Whats Wrong with the Team!?


If the team scores-
X1: Woohoo yeah, Go Fiji!
X2: You've got it boys
X3: Finally!
X4: Never doubted you guys!

SCENARIO ONE



If the team wins:
X1: Yeah PROUD TO BE FIJIAN!
X2: Thats how it's done!
X3: Attaches flag to the side of the bus
X4: Honks the car horn while driving around the neighbourhood (Firefox has a red squiggly line on "neighbourhood". Boo! English Spelling all the way!)

SCENARIO TWO


If the team loses-
X1: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU..REF'S FAULT!!!
X2: W&^%*  THE *^&^**&* !!! &**^^***))__(&#^&%^&!!!
X3:Rips of flag from the side of the bus
X4: Shuts of tv and goes to bed

We're all hoping of course for scenario one; it's only fair, since we had scenario two last time.

What to keep your eyes out for during rugby:

The Fans:

The Streakers:

 The Pom pom girls:

 The Fights:

 THE EPIC SCORING: 

THE FIJI TEAM

Thus, is the Fijian Way. Rugby Fanatics. 



Anyhow, I do wish the Fiji Team all the best and to the fans, cheer your hearts out.