The Irony Behind Advice

Advice can come in all forms of shapes and sizes, and from anyone at anytime. It can come from your mum when needed most (“Just follow your heart sweetheart, everything is going to be okay”), or it can come unwelcomed from a rival (“Why don’t you learn how to dress for success even a little like me?”) 

Given the assumed constructive nature of an advice, most are friendly and designed to improve a situation or an individual, be it in influencing a decision or how to do things better. Friends advice each other all the time when things look a little dry for the other, and the Internet is full of people writing advisory articles in forum pages and websites. 

The irony however, is this: we often tend to take the advice given by strangers or random sources more seriously than those given to us by our families and close friends. This is a weird phenomena, but it’s true for a large part of us. Take for example when we’re young: When our mums tell us to eat our vegetables, we tend to shrug it off but when we read up on the advices online on the importance of vegetables to our diet, or when we see our friends or crush enjoying their greens and egging us to eat them, we start to appreciate and consume them. 

How different is it from when your mum nicely tells you to eat your veggies at dinner time? Not much really, the vegetables still taste about the same. 

There’s something strange about this really, that we choose to ignore or neglect the advice of those who know us best, and those who want the best for us. Perhaps it is taking for granted the goodwill that our loved ones have for us, or maybe we seek to learn only from experiencing it for ourselves. The hard way, if you ask me. 

It would probably be good if we learn to take advice for us more seriously, and give them a thought before throwing them away into the mental garbage bin at the back of our heads. We should of course have a mind and an opinion of our own, but we could always use for a different (perhaps previously hidden) perspective in a situation. We may think we know better, but sometimes.. we really don’t. 

(P.S another irony of advice is that we often give them to people like they are free, but use them ourselves as though it’d cost us a new car or apartment, but thats to be saved for another day. Haha.)

Reverie, Memories

Standing in the middle of the square
Looking around at people everywhere
A million scenes flash before his eyes
Trying not to think of all those dreadful lies;

His dad told him to write a poem with a rhyme
Like how he thought writing without one was a crime
But all that doesn’t mean much to him now
Standing there thinking nothing but why and how;

He remembers the times she waited for him by the shop
Looking at the spot now he almost sees her in her spaghetti top
But all that is nothing more than just a distant pain
Standing there alone staring at the same spot in the rain;

The poem has long expired from the first word on
The fact of the matter is nothing more than ‘now she’s gone’
Yet lost deep in his memories he sees her again
And off he runs after her not knowing it is all in vain;

Reverie, memories.

Used To

I never could understand what you used to tell me,
About what you used to think and what you used to feel,
Simply because I never considered things from your point of view,
Or your feelings about certain things and certain times;

I am starting to do so right this moment –
But I’m afraid it is a little too late for all these now,
Where it’s all said and done and what’s left
Are little shredded pieces of memories and times past;

I don’t know – maybe some things cannot be recovered,
Where time is like a land which never can be reclaimed,
Something lost to the echoes of the walls in the room
Like the memories that play in the recesses of your mind;

You’ll never know when the future stops and the past replays,
Or where the present lies in the labyrinth of space and time,
And so I suppose all that you can do is
To attempt to pick up the pieces and put together a broken picture;

It used to be perfect.

The Beach

The waves softly retreat
Leaving behind a shoreline of sandcastles and forgotten dreams
Kept neatly away in bottled notes half buried in the sand
Always in sight but never much touched nor remembered;

A fragment of childhood the beach remains
Dreams of yesteryears drowned by the noise of the receding waves
Once brightly glimmering in the sunlight these inspirations
Fade away as the spade is left in the sand with the bucket lying close by;

It is very likely that someday someone will
Find the bottle of childhood hopes and stories
And ask you what those times were and where they had gone to
Where in that instance you will again be transported back to the seaside;

In the sand will lie a bottle with the message of a time past:
A note to yourself years ago written of future dreams and wishes
A letter of promise and hope penned yesterday for tomorrow –
You will again read its content and memories will flood your jaded soul;

To your tearing eye and nostalgic sense you will ask yourself,
‘Where are the dreams which I so longed to fulfil and
Where is the person I so wanted to become when I grow up?”

And close by you will see
A spade left in the sand with a bucket lying close by.

We Think

(5 minute challenge, let’s go)

People do things and say things,
And we think all these come from thin air and nowhere;

There is – a story behind everyone,
Stories which we may never know about or imagine,
Sometimes these stories explain actions and words,
Other times these tales simply bring a tear to the eye;

Indeed no one feels as another does,
That we can never get round to understanding the pains of another,
Where in our own eyes we view through our own issues and hurt,
That it all eventually rounds up to what we ourselves go through;

Lonely is the man who tries to be there for everyone,
But in his heart yet he knows there’s no one
Who can possibly be there for him to fill up his heart,
To take up the empty space within which makes him feel without;

‘We all wonder from the real world, we all come to our asylums’,
Yes that is right – a place where the line blurs,
Between madness and sanity there is little difference,
Wherein going to such an escape one meets the issue face on;

Enough now – the point of this all is very clear:
People do and say things based on their past and experiences,

So beware the man who seeks to listen to the sorrows of the world,
For he is the one who seeks external pains to smoothen the ones within.

O Caffeine O Caffeine

O Caffeine O Caffeine,
You who have kept me up many nights sighing on my pillow,
Nights where the shadows grow long and the leaves creep closer,
Such nights of unrest and unease;

O Caffeine O Caffeine,
You that cause my heart to race and sweat beads to form,
Where the dark of the night rivals the dark of the mind,
Such moments of anxiety and nervousness;

O Caffeine O Caffeine,
Times when you grip my heart and hold my mind ransom,
Leaving me with only fear and despair,
Giving me up to the uncertainties and pains of existence;

O Caffeine O Caffeine,
You are one such metaphor,
Present in the coffee that one drowns oneself in everyday,
Used as an excuse for just one more cup and one more day;

O Caffeine O Caffeine,
How much you endear yourself to me while I push you away!