traditions...

What is it about being sick that reminds us about home and all the little idiosyncrasies...those little traditions which we have to make us feel cozy and safe.

I believe there is nothing quite like a bad cold to tease those memories of home - mama at hand with all my meds and food, my dad to whine about my day and my sister to keep me slightly sane :). Here in Baltimore, I don't even have the time to whine about my cold, although I must say my friends out here have been so solicitous of me these past few days, I treasure every single one of them.

Today marks the end of my fourth week at Baltimore, and it's been a good experience. I've learnt things about myself that I wouldn't discuss on this blog :), and I've made friends - friends with varied experiences, with different views and with very diverse cultural outlooks, so it's been a very 'enriching experience'.

Now, I have got to admit, I sound so unlike myself on this blog today, but I put that down to my being sick **whining about my cough and cold..here I go again..lol** and the fact that I completed my first mid-term at Hopkins today, and it did not feel like a total disaster..woohoo! Yes, I did celebrate my big midterm with chocolate chip cookies (yey!!).

I will end my blog with another rambling for those poetry geeks out there...

sightless world

the wind whispers in her ear
the sound of chimes far awar
She wonders if she will ever see
the light from that distant land

She feels her hand along the window sill
tracing its hard edges
searching for the knob
to close the window shut

The wind against her ear
is almost too much to bear
How can she withstand the thought
of always listening, but never seeing

Sight is lost but to a few
yet, it's value is known only to those few
The rest are blind to the value there is
content to meander sightless in their world

A strand of her hair
falls against her cheek
she brushes it away abruptly
unwilling to feel it touch her tears

Tears trickling slowly
as she gazes over the plains
the wind whispering in her ear
the promises of the world she will never see...

by Angela Archana Vincent @ 9.45pm Sept 26, 2008

flickering patterns

here is another set of my ramblings from early September...

flickering patterns

bright light flickering
outside my window
dust flecks scattering the light
in mysterious patterns all around

heated discussions gathering storm
in the quiet shade within a room
laughter to frustration to anger to fury
the changes within a mere second

I wonder how we adapt
to all those musical notes
Music in its various forms
from soothing to jazz to rock to metal

a new city, a new vibe
different me, i may have thought
yet here I am, with the same discussions
over-wrought, over and out...

by Angela Archana Vincent - Sep 7, 2008