smell of rain...

"A person who longs to leave the place where he lives is an unhappy person"
(Milan Kundera - The Unbearable Lightness of Being)

"When trying to be a normal person, the society forces you to be abnormal. When trying to be abnormal, people around you oppose you. Then you try to walk alone, but there is no footprints to follow, and nobody can tell you what the result will be if you are strict to your dreams. Then, you are struggling for choosing the right way. And finally, unconsciously, you are too old to choose."

first snow

muốn buông quá
mà không thể...

"after everything i've done i hate myself for what i've become
i tried
i gave up
throw it away"

fitter, happier?

"more productive, comfortable, not drinking too much
Regular exercise at the gym, 3 days a week
Getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries at ease
Eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats
A patient, better driver, a safer car, baby smiling in back seat
Sleeping well, no bad dreams, no paranoia
Careful to all animals, never washing spiders down the plughole
Keep in contact with old friends, enjoy a drink now and then
Will frequently check credit at moral bank, hole in wall
Favors for favors, fond but not in love
Charity standing orders on Sundays ring road supermarket
No killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants
Car wash, also on Sundays, no longer afraid of the dark or mid-day shadows
Nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate, nothing so childish
At a better pace, slower and more calculated, no chance of escape
Now self-employed, concerned, but powerless
An empowered and informed member of society, pragmatism not idealism
Will not cry in public, less chance of illness, tires that grip in the wet
Shot of baby strapped in back seat, a good memory, still cries at a good film
Still kisses with saliva, no longer empty and frantic like a cat tied to a stick
That's driven into frozen winter shit, the ability to laugh at weakness
Calm fitter, healthier and more productive, a pig in a cage on antibiotics "

I am the fuel that fires the engine of failure

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Loads of work make me feel like shit. But more and more works wait for me til Tet holiday. How can i deal with it?

"Some obvious active treatment cures and prevention of your fatigue calls for appropriate lifestyle adjustments by way of:

• exercise regularly
• drink plenty of water
• eat a healthy, well-balanced diet
• maintain a reasonable work and personal schedule
• get adequate, regular and consistent sleep each night
• change stressful circumstances ~ switch jobs, take a vacation or deal directly with problems in a relationship"

sure i can get through that.
I have no relationship, boredom of love, lack of emotions, no vacation plan so i will work hard to get money. But even money is boring...

I, I've been lonely
And I, I've been blind
And I,. I've learned nothing
So my hands are firmly tied
To the sinking leadweight
of failure

I've worked hard all my life
Money slips through my hands
My face in the mirror tells me
It's no surprise that I'm
Pushing the stone up the hill
of failure

They tempt me with violence
They punish me with ideals
And they crush me with an image of my
life that's nothing but unreal
Except on the goddamned slaveship
of failure

I'll drown here trying
to get up for some air
But each time I think I breathe
I'm laid on with a double share
of the punishing burden
of failure

I don't deserve to be down here
But I'll never leave
And I've learned one thing
You can't escape the beast
In the null and void pit
of failure

When I get my hands on some money
I'll kiss it's green skin
And I'll ask it's dirty face
"Where the hell have you been?"
"I am the fuel that fires the engine
of failure."

I'll be old and broken down
I'll forget who and where I am
I'll be senile or forgotten
But I'll remember and understand
You can bank your hard-earned money
on failure

I saw my father crying
I saw my mother break her hand
On a wall that wouldn't weep
But that certainly held in
The mechanical moans of a dying man
Who was a failure

My back hurts me when I bend
Because I carry a load
My brain hurts me like a knife-hole
Because I've yet to be shown
How to pull myself out from
The sucking quicksand
of failure

Some people live in hell
Many bastards succeed
But I. I've learned nothing
I can't even elegantly bleed
Out the poison blood
of failure