5 Hours and the Farmer's conclusion

5 hours; that is how much sleep I'm getting on average for the past couple of weeks (not including weekends).

Its time for your weekly update here on metallic-stains but before that, allow me to share a couple of images which I collected over the past weeks. My less than impressive "portfolio", if you must.

"Irony"

This picture is filled with a cross of culture; where modernization meets tradition. We have a Lamborghini to the left of the picture, while a couple of Trishaws (and their riders) to the right.

To me personally, I feel that this picture describes change from a very abstract point of view. A mix of cultural, technological and societal change is the main theme of the picture as viewers get to see the contrast between the modern day mode of transport to the modest equivalent of the past.

The picture exudes an aura of thought and contrast between the two ends of the spectrum which will thus create a sense of irony, giving reason to the title of the picture.

"The Fall"

Shot at the Marina Bay area, One Fullerton to be exact and to be totally honest, I was blown away (literally) at the massive storm clouds which massed around the area that time.

This picture gives the viewers a sense of destructiveness and chaos which Mother Nature is capable of. A feeling of impending doom also radiates from this picture as grim and intimidating looking clouds frame the distinct skyline of the tall establishments there.

It also gives me a very desolated feel, as if hinting at the world's end. Sadness is also evident as with destruction comes the due emotive responses.

"Contrast"

Shot taken at around the same time as the previous picture, at the exact same location.

I find this one particularly interesting as it shows a whole world of difference; as if light meets dark. One hand, we see massively grim looking storm clouds gathering while on the other, light and peace pervades the atmosphere. Another apt title would have been along the lines of "Peace before the Storm".

This one struck me as a picture filled with the theme of conflict. Very often in life, we face conflicts, differences and stark changes. In a way, this picture hits at the battle between "light" and "dark", thus invoking the feel of conflict. Life is, in a way, similar to this picture for we are constantly on the move and thus are subjected to change inadvertently.


Alright, hope you guys enjoyed that little "photo-presentation" as much as I did while taking the pictures.

As mentioned at the beginning of the post, its been a rather hectic week (as with usual protocol) in school but thankfully, the weekends are here.

This is an interesting fact though. Many a time, we find ourselves on a Monday morning, stuck on a train packed with working class individuals all around, as they somehow manages to lug themselves out of bed and to work and you think to yourself "wished the weekends came sooner".

In that sense, the weekends are converted into temporarily motivating factors, which can be also termed, Motivators.

Day by day, our mind is boosted by the fact that the weekends are getting nearer and nearer and when you wake up on a Friday morning, you know you've made it through the week.

I guess its human nature to have such unorthodox sources of motivation, which is really interesting and thought provoking at that.

So yea, a little food for thought for the soul never hurts.

Moving on to some light hearted material.

One of the more interesting shirt labels I've seen.

Was in the shower a couple of minutes back and my shirt label caught my attention. There was a little description on it and here's what it said:

"The nice guys get washed away
Like the snow and the rain
There’s been a load of compromising
On the road to my horizon
I’m gonna be where
The lights are shining on me"

Yup, I know. You're probably having the same exact reaction as I did after reading this off the shirt label. Certainly one of the more interesting ones I've come across so far.

Really interesting stuff.

Alright, and now for a short conclusion for the "Discretion or Inspiration?" narrative which was posted awhile back.

Thank you all, for the feedback and comments on the narrative, looking forward to more responses. Feel free to "follow" or subscribe to metallic-stains via the options to the left side of the page.

Here goes;

"

A year had passed after the chain of events in the previous chapter and we start on a familiar corner in the marketplace set in the countryside.

The smell of spring was evident in the air as the light scent of fragrance flourished everywhere. The crowds had also returned but curiously, the marketplace had also seemingly grew in size and population; a rare occurrence as the people seldom stayed in the countryside for long.

A distinct tinkle of bells differentiated itself from the buzz of activity of the masses, who were busy with trade or purchases.

There at the corner, the Shepard stood, with the same amount of grace and demeanor as she always had, staff in hand.

Her gaze shifted from person to person as she surveyed and observed the crowd in the marketplace; this spring had brought new visitors as well as residents.

The Shepard made her move as she glided through the shifting mass of people and made her way through the crowds easily, the bells on her staff tinkling with every step she took.

She soon reached the outskirts of the marketplace and with a final glance back, she turned and walked into the vast plains of the countryside. Her footsteps light and quick, as if rushing to meet with someone.

Soon, the familiar sound of her herd greeted her as she crossed a ruined field, once a plantation and there in the middle of the vast field, a large house made out of bricks stood sturdily as golden rays of sun painted it in a shade of bright yellow.

*

Beads of sweat descended upon the wooden floors of the workshop. The Farmer leaned against a table as he slowly knocked the rough edges of the wood work that he's been working on for the past hour.

The tinkle of bells which he became so accustomed to in recent times made him stop and look up. He dropped his tools and stepped into the golden sunlight which bathed the the countryside.

*

Night soon fell upon the countryside. The Farmer settled for supper while the Shepard sat, quietly staring at him as he took the roasted chicken out of the oven, with due fragrance coming along with it.

A small smile framed the Shepard's face as the Farmer sat down. Her eyes met his and there was always this special connection between them; a connection indescribable by words alone.

It has thus been like this since the tragic incident a year back. Though the scars of those events will forever be etched in the Farmer's mind, he is thankful for this new rite of life but more importantly, the Shepard, for it was her who rescued him from the jaws of oblivion and it was her who stood by him all this while as he got his life back on track.

Now a year later, things have changed considerably in the countryside; people no longer left during the winter due to the availability of wool from the Shepard's herd and trade was booming and growing.

But for the Farmer, material indulgences are insignificant, for the greatest gift of all sat right in front of him at the dinner table, staring right into his eyes.

Lets Eat, the Farmer said, as a smile sneaked out through the corner of his mouth.

"

Hope you guys enjoyed the conclusive installment for the narrative. Unfortunately due to the excessive length constrains (as well as my energy level), I'm not able to fully develop and elaborate as much as I wanted to.

But nevertheless, I hope the narrative has brought a breath of fresh air and a little something to think about.

Okay, time for me to recharge my energy level and snooze the night away (whatever's left of the night anyway).

Remember to check back for updates and articles. Till then.

Cya'll later.

*All pictures as seen in this post strictly belongs to the owner of metallic-stains.blogspot.com and its management team. All rights reserved.

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Song of the Post

Now playing: The Beatles - A Day in the Life
via FoxyTunes

Discretion or Inspiration? (Part 2)

A place where no one dwells, where nature is untouched, where troubles are non-existent, where dreams live and where hope is alive.

Just a quick mid week update, though the main purpose of this post is to complete the narrative as seen in the previous post.

Life never fails to amaze. Well, at least for me. I've come to realize that there's more then meets the eye to life than "making money and dying peacefully". I mean we see "death" everyday (in the media, for starters) so I guess the society's already shaped and crafted in such a way that we discredit the true meaning of life in general.

Achieving dreams might seem like something out of a novel but I can assure you that it is very real. So real in fact, that even we, fail to notice its prominence.

Its good to dream, its good to aim and its good to plan your life. But what drives it is action, motivation as well as direction.

Dreams and ambitions do come true.

Oh well, on a lighter note, I realize that there is evident change in my sleeping pattern; I'm able to draw larger amounts of energy from lesser amounts of sleep. Something tells me that this isn't exactly what you'll define as a "healthy" lifestyle.

Hmm...

Alright, now for the finale on the previous running narrative. We'll pick it up right where we left; just as the farmer was about to fall asleep (the irony).


"

The morning will bring new hope, the farmer thought to himself as he climbed onto his bed as fell asleep. A soft rumble, barely audible, vocalized in a distance just as the farmer fell asleep...

(END OF PART 1)

-

A cruel dawn broke out against the countryside and though the morning had come, the golden sunshine that the people have grown accustomed to was nowhere to be found. Instead, a huge ominous cloud of enormous statue loomed over the vast fields of the countryside, many of which ripen and ready to harvest.

It was all calm, too calm and then, it was here.

A sudden impulse, and all hell broke loose. The farmer started into consciousness and jumped from his bed. A quick glance outside revealed only one thing as emotion gripped him like a predator on its prey; fear.

So all that talk about a storm and floods were true, the farmer thought to himself as he threw some clothes on, preparing for the worse while he did so.

As if on cue, the first drop of water from the sky descended with the loud complement of thunder in the sky. A light drizzle soon followed, peppering the fields with a dash of water, signaling something of a greater magnitude to follow.

The farmer could hear the light patter of rain falling upon the shack's frail, but sustainable roof; it often leaked. The tempo of the raindrops slowly increased as with the rate of his heartbeat.

-

With rain beating down harshly upon the farmer's already soaked overalls, the farmer didn't slow down for a minute as he repeated a simple chain of actions; pluck, dump into bag, move on to next harvest.

His mind however, was involved in a mix battle of conflict from within, as question after question filled his already troubled mind, deliberating about his actions and the consequence.

As if emphasizing on the already grim situation, streaks on lightning framed the livid skyline, thunder roaring as if in accomplice.

-

Time passed seemingly slow but the rain had only beat down with renewed vigor. And by now, the farmer's fatigue reached an all time low. His movements were sluggish and clumsy.

Bit by bit, his vision clouded. Was it the rain thickening? Or was it just after storm mist which shrouded his surroundings? He mumbled to himself, obviously in delirium and much suffering and torment.

The skies struck once more. A flash of pure energy hit home and the farmer felt the ground shaking, as if shattered by the powerful force of nature itself.

The world around him turned to black.

-

The countryside saw the worse storm that day, one of the most destructive in recent years.

Homes had to be rebuilt, harvest re-cultivated, and hopes had to be re-established. That year also saw the quietest mid autumn festival in the countryside; many lives were ruined and many others stripped of faith.

Few gathered around the traditional mid autumn bon-fire, which didn't looked as impressive as it was last year.

Already the countryside prophets predicted that the torrent of rain that struck the country a couple of days ago was only a fraction of what the year's winter would encompass and rage.

A light chime made its way amongst the small mass gathered there, seeking the last source of warmth before the harsh winter.

Voices were hushed and soft for everyone gathered and prayed softly. There were no feasts. There were no decorations, nor were there any song and dances; everyone provided with whatever little they have left from the storm.

As the Shepherd stepped into the circle that has been made around the minute bon-fire, the voices slowly focused from a distortion of mumbles.

"I heard that a farm on the outskirts..." said one.

"Yes, I've heard it too." Another commented.

"totally destroyed, that one" came the answer.

"The creator blesses them"

The Shepherd's curiosity got to her as she strained to eavesdrop further (no one talked to her as they found no use for her, largely due to her trade).

Sleepless nights had eroded her; her eyes looked tired, her face looked haggard and her hands were shaky. But nothing deteriorated more then her mind. Day and night, she kept thinking about that encounter with that farmer she encountered.

Something. Something made her feel that way, as if a voice was calling out to her everyday. But she failed to verbalize whatever that was making her feel this way.

Unknowingly, the Shepherd has wandered to a desolated spot which looked vaguely familiar to her. A feeling of deja-vu gripped her tightly as she replayed the encounter in her head. There was something about those eyes.

She then saw it. Right there, as if unaffected by the torrent of rain over the period of the pass few days; an apt comparison of the persistent feelings that eluded her all this time.

She knew what to do.

-

A cloud of smoke cleared and the smell of burnt wood was pervading the usually fragrant countryside air.

The farmer was kneeling in front of what looked like the remains of the shack he once lived in, tears welling up in the eyes as he looked in agony.

His shirt was stained with mud for he had fainted just as the rain climaxed a few days back. He had awoken with the devastation before he eyes; his ruined harvest, ravaged fields and more importantly, his destroyed shack.

His parents though, weren't anywhere to be found and he wept at the prospect of them being amongst the charred ruins.

-

The clouds above soon cleared and the countryside saw the first glimpse of the golden sun's rays through the canopy of clouds that raged its anger upon the countryside.

Slowly, golden rays illuminated the countryside, the vast pastures, the lush trees and the green grass, laden with water over the pass couple of days.

A tint of golden fell on the broken farmer as he wept before the devastation, with it, a soft, familiar sound of bells rang from afar.

The farmer doubted his ears but his vision could deceive him no more; a silhouette along the horizon against the setting sun confirmed his thoughts.

She's here, he said.

(End of Part 2)

"

Alright that's all for this part. I must say that a considerable amount of thought was put into this episode so I hope you guys enjoy it as much I writing it.

On a random note, its freaking cold where I am so.

Time for dinner but before I take my leave, I would like to share a particular song, as seen below, to all my readers out there.

Feel free to feedback about the narrative as you deem fit and I'm considering a follow up quite soon.

Cya'll later.

"These words were never easier to say, or her to second guess"

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Now playing: Mayday Parade - Miserable At Best
via FoxyTunes

Discretion or Inspiration?

Was down at the Cathay an hour or so back for a little R&R and guess what I saw.

A beauty isn't it?

Well, say "aye" if you're a car fanatic as you'll probably know where I'm coming from. But that wasn't all...

Oh. My. God.

An ENTIRE row of Astons. Right in front of me. I swear, the radius of a hundred meters around me was probably worth well over millions.

Though Astons aren't exactly my personal favorites, this spectacle would probably wow typical car junkies.

I soon found out the reason for such a gathering.

Apparently, Cathay was gearing up (pun intended) for the premier launch of the latest Bond Movie, Quantum of Solace (out in theaters in a couple of days).

And thus explaining the reason behind all the Astons parked there. Talk about a publicity stunt.

Alright, time for a little update.

I've noticed a trend in my post frequencies as of recent durations. No, blogging hasn't converted itself into a weekly affair; I'm just too caught up with school work and the such. The added disadvantage of not having stable access to the internet during weekdays further amplifies this issue.

But fret not readers, articles and updates will be posted soon and in fact, I'm actually considering registering metallic-stains as an independent domain by itself.

This is very subjective though, due to various factors (ie. costs) and simply due to the fact that the idea came along as a random thought.

Week 4 marks the start of various ICAs and for my readers who require clarification about the abbreviation, its simply your average graded assignment (ie. project presentations, written tests).

I realized that creativity is the essence of success as seen in multiple cases (like Apple Corporation for example). Sure, there's a certain degree of difficulty in being creativity, but I believe that everyone is creative to a large extent thus there is no excuse for success.

On a side note, I never thought that time would fly so (freaking) fast. Barely a year ago, I would be cooped up in my house, viciously mugging and remembering as much detail as I possibly can in preparation of the O level examinations.

There are certain events in life that can literally break or make a person and I guess that this crude and somewhat critical education system that we're currently in does have its positive outcomes as well.

At this point in time, I would like to share a little narrative that I thought about while in the shower a couple of days back (told you guys that one of my main periods of thought occurs during showers didn't I?) and here goes;

"

A cold winter morning blew a bitter chill over the flat country lands. Everyone left in search of new hope when the immerse colds struck. While only a few others decided to pursue seemingly broken dreams in the harsh waste land.

The farmer was one of them.

This plot of land was the only thing he had owned in his entire life and not even the harshest of winds would have deterred his will to stay rooted there. In a way, it was more than just a home to him.

Yes, winter had come early this year in this region but as usual during this period, everyone in the country left towards warmer urban areas, in hopes of new opportunities. Only the old or sickly was left behind, largely reluctant to leave due to emotional bonds similar to that of the farmer.

But the farmer was only 18 of age.

There was something different about him for sure. While others of his age had snubbed the idea of staying in the country, he saw what he needed to do here and has thus decided on his decision to stay.

As the farmer sat down in his small shack shared with his elderly parents, massive sacks of seeds surrounded him. He knew that winter would soon end and it would be time. Time to make a change and time to move on.

The farmer wasn't without ambition; he had big plans for this land he had valued so much over development. One day, he told himself, people will see the value of country lands.

Indeed, he has studied the lands in the country for one too many years and had thought that he knew everything there is to know. But what he didn't learn was that every winter was different from the previous, a crucial detail that he ignorantly overlooked which he'll soon pay a deep price for.

Soft cracks presumed as the farmer diligently separated and sorted out the seeds.

-

Too many bone biting winter chills had passed since the farmer sat in his shack, sorting the seeds out. He knew that winter was about to end, and before he slept that night, he prayed to whichever god he knew, asking for the dawn of a new hope and chapter in his life.

The grim overcast skies of dawn showed no improvement. A crack, however, soon printed itself in the center of the vast greyness. Slowly but surely, it widen and a golden ray of warmth and hope pieced the dull monotony of the country side.

The farmer felt warmth on his face as he stirred in bed. He smiled with his eyes still closed for he knew that the time was here.

-

The seeds were all planted in the vast area of land that the farmer owned and valued more than anything else. And with a satisfied look from his face as he viewed his pass week's effort to plant the seeds, he felt confident about his progress. His aged parents too, felt his confidence and they too, basked in it.

The coming of spring saw the return of the those who left and new faces in the country.

The farmer knew that they wouldn't last the winter as they would probably be too impatient and thus made no efforts to befriend them.

-

A festive-like atmosphere soon filled the country side. The farmer visited the country's market square only to find tents and bonfires being erected and smiling faces filled the streets.

It was a common sight in the non-winter seasons as considerable numbers flocked to the market square to gather supplies, interact as well as soak in the various festivals that spurred the people in the region of the country side.

After a quick visit to the local blacksmith (he needed a new pitch fork), the farmer decided to stop by the animal vendors to check out the livestock, vital to any farm though he never had money to afford a proper investment as such.

As soon as he turned the corner, his eyes met with another; dark brown pupils with beautifully framed eye lashes. Shifting out of focus, he saw the face which the eyes belonged.

The girl was beautiful, easily the most appealing ones he's seen in his entire life. A confused look framed her face as she held an arm to her hips while the other griped a belled staff tightly, as if anticipating an attack.

A shepherd! The farmer had never expected one of her kind in these regions for the lack of need for wool; there was simply no economy here for such a trade to exist as people only came to the country side during the warmer seasons of the year.

The shepherd looked away as the farmer muttered his apologies for bumping in like that.

"Oh, its alright. Can I interest you in some sheep for your farm?"

The farmer wasn't looking for sheep to even start with, probably a chicken or a pig but a sheep had never crossed his mind, and thus decided to dismiss that offer.

The shepherd looked dejected and turned the other way as she slowly walked back to her herd of sheep in the distance.

"But wai..."

She never looked back.

-

Day after day, the farmer headed back to that very same spot in hopes of "bumping" into the shepherd again, largely to no avail. Traders never stayed in one place for too long and he knew of that only too well.

But since that fateful meeting, he felt a strong connection with the shepherd. As if someone had sent her there, only to make him suffer day and night as thoughts of her filled his mind.

On his usual round one day, he decided that he wasn't going to come back tomorrow, or the day after, or even the month after that. In essence, he had given up, physically, though his mind betrayed that emotion.

He look out a piece of paper, wrote a note and hammered it onto a nearby wooden lamp post.

The farmer didn't come back the next day, nor did he the day after or the week after. But in his mind the prospect of the shepherd remained vivid, as if hinting that there was a possibility of hope.

-

As the months passed, the farmer's crops grew but harvest was poor as compared to previous years. Evidently, the farmer was disappointed; it would be a really tough winter this time, to tide through, if they were able to even make it at all.

The autumn months brought about rains to the country side, and by now, people were already evacuating, with rumors spreading of a horrible winter ahead; the worse in the country's recorded history.

Floods were on the feared tongues of land owners and the farmer too, had to be on the alert.

The morning will bring new hope, the farmer thought to himself as he climbed onto his bed as fell asleep. A soft rumble, barely audible, vocalized in a distance just as the farmer fell asleep...

(END OF PART 1)

"

Okay I'll stop here. Hopefully there's a hook factor in this narrative. I'll continue and conclude the story soon. Feel free to share your thoughts about the narrative above. I'm as always, open to feedback.

On a random note, I think people misjudge and misunderstand the term "emo" namely, emo music. I've developed a recent liking for emotional songs, probably due to occurrences as well as being able to relate to a distinct few.

Call me weird.

Alright, its late and time for bed. More content coming soon on metallic-stains so please check back often.

Cya'll later.

"This Heart, it Beats"
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Now playing: Paramore - My Heart
via FoxyTunes