Category: Daily Prompt Page 2 of 3

Red Suitcase And Knee-Length Boots

Red suitcase and knee-length boots

That’s what I want to be doing in the future.


I’m currently in year 11 in High School, and I’ve got one year left to decide what I want to do in the future, and right now, the chances of me choosing what my parents hope for me to choose is getting slimmer and slimmer. I’ve had the idea of applying for International Relation or Law for a year now, but lately I’ve been contemplating another idea. I want to take journalism.

You see, here’s how the equation works in my brain:

If I take IR and get a job in the UN, I get to travel for noble purposes and help people, something I care deeply about.

If I take journalism, I get to write and travel, which is a win-win situation, as they are both something that I love.

I want to do it, walking down the road with maple leaves scattering around, breathing in the fresh spring air, buying hot chocolate as I write down about the new places I find in the middle of winter, or even playing at the beach with children from orphanage or homeless shelter.

I want to help people, I want to write the experience, and over all, I want to travel.

In response of: Six of One, Half a Dozen of the Other

(Mon)day Reading Love!

In order to write this down, I had to first google up what ‘penultimate’ means.

Penultimate. Next to the last.

After I got this down, I went to Mon’s blog and saw her second most recent post, and it was apparently about the three blog post she took a liking of last Friday. So let me do it with my own twist;




Because Vexing Point always writes the complete opposite of what he’s supposed to write and I like his attitude about it.


In response to: Companionable


In Which the Rabbit Died

I remember lying in my futon (traditional bed in Japan) in our apartment back when I used to live in Japan. I remember not being able to sleep through my father’s snore, and I remember one story my mother always tells.

“Once upon a time, there lived a baby rabbit and her mother inside a tiny hut beside the wood.”

The lights used to be turned off by then, and my brother would have slept through it as he couldn’t care less of what was to happen to the rabbit. She’d tell the story with soft, soothing voice and I wouldn’t be able to make out her face in the dark.

“The mother rabbit always tell the baby rabbit to not go out into the wood,” she used to tell me. “The wood is too dangerous. There is a fearsome bear ready to hunt little rabbit like the baby rabbit, and there are many dangerous creature living inside.”

My younger self would have imagined a dark forest with bats and howls by then.

“But one day,” my mother hushed, and I whimpered. “the baby rabbit didn’t listen! She played outside into the wood until late in the evening, and the fearsome bear found her before her mother did! So he ate her, and she died. Her body was never found by the mother rabbit. The end.”

I remember crying like one would when he or she is dumped by their lovers. I sobbed into my mother’s arms, grieving for the fate of the little rabbit.

“Which is why you should always, always, listen to your mother,” she ended the tale with a light and airy giggle. Must be amusing for her to see a little girl cry for the poor fate of an imaginary rabbit. I would have done the same if I had a daughter.

I brought the story back to my mother a year ago, I think. She laughed about it and told me she made the story up completely. Someday, I’ll follow her legacy and laugh as I make my daughter cry with the legendary, fearsome story.

My daughter won’t know what hit her.


In response to: Bedtime Stories

I wish, I wish, I wish

Today is your lucky day. You get three wishes, granted to you by The Daily Post. What are your three wishes and why?

There are a thousand things I want plus more, but here are the first three that came to mind.

1. I wish my phone could be repaired in a night

Just about three hours ago, my iPhone slipped through my fingers while I was in the second floor of my house and it fell right to the first floor. The glass cracked, and the LCD screen broke. It won’t turn on, and I’m currently missing every bit of important information that could be hella crucial. I feel a lot like someone who’s stranded in a lost island.

2. I wish I was in Japan

Japan takes me to a whole new level of happiness, always been.

3. I wish I was married

Because at the end of the day, as a muslim woman, I couldn’t seem to love nor be loved by a decent man until a halal relationship is formed. And hey, I don’t think I want to wait another five years to allow myself to openly love a man.

Here’s to love, happiness, and luck

In response to: Lucky Star

Let’s Pretend I’m Not A Freak

Hey, I’m a high school student, and people here label names to everybody. Since I still want to have friends and be accepted by the social community, let’s pretend I’m not  a freak.

When you’re in a place where people are so judgmental, it is hard to be who you really are in the fear of being mocked and avoided by those you want to be friends with. So you talk about shoe brand and fancy hang out restaurant’s name, you talk about boys, and you gossip about who’s dating who and who’s being beaten up by who.

Really, it’s not that hard to blend it with society if you’re willing to hide the secrets of who you really are.

So you stopped talking about your favorite anime, and you delete all Japanese songs from your phone in case they check. You delete pictures of your favorite characters from your phone and you let your tongue mock the freak at school.

All just to be accepted.

You look down on the freak society, glare at them when they let themselves laugh too loud, and you ignore their existence — all while being a closeted freak as well. They are good people, you assure yourself. They’re not wrong for liking certain Animes and being able to draw good. They just chose wrong to expose their preference in High School society, you tell yourself.

But really, the truth says it all, and you know they are a thousand times braver than you’ll ever will be for being who they are and not being afraid of it. All that matters to them is how they are accepted by their real friends who’ll never speak behind their back, and I applaud them for that.

But at the end of the day, they’re avoided by society and being called foul names.

So let’s pretend I’m not a freak.

In response to: Game of Groans

But Instead

in this race

between us, fate

i should have let

love find me first

but instead, fate

i took off

to look for love

that could be wrong

In response to: Shoulda Woulda Coulda

In Which the Heart Is the Weakest Eye

“I love you,” he whispers.

And just like a magical mantra, you’re fooled for good despite all the bad that you know. One little mantra to cloud your judgement, and one little mantra to bind you for life. Because truly, how can you, a lonely girl, leave behind a man that promises an everlasting love, despite not being his only one?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Brilliant Disguise

Come Make Me See

What’s your favorite part about visiting a new place — the food? The architecture? The people watching?

The one thing that immediately came to mind relates back to my post a week or two ago. In that blog post, I wrote, ‘In history, lived the tale of thousands of people…’

You see, readers, the reason why I started this blog to begin with was because I wanted to share my perspective of life and learn other people’s perspective of how they see this world as well. If my view of this world is only one side of a cube, it’s a personal pleasure for me to learn the other five side of the cube through other’s eyes.

So if you ask my favorite part, it would have to be the old stories of the people in that land. The certain legends, the historic event, the heroic tale, those are my favorite part. Not the official record or story from a book kind, but the one that the people experience themselves.

It gives personal pride when people in their fifties above are willing to share their tale from their youth. It gives personal satisfaction when their eyes light up with excitement and nostalgia as they go back in time. It gives personal happiness when I can make their tales timeless as I write them down here for the whole world to see.

The legacy they leave behind, their idiocy of their youth, the decisions they made and the lesson they learned, these are my favorite part when I speak to stranger and ask them of their tale. As these tales take me back in time, they make me believe one thing:

Beauty do exist in this world, only to those who are willing to seek it.

And that is my favorite part. 




Just Do It

Start living on the edge

Don’t stay in the what ifs

There’s nothing to regret

Hush now, don’t be so stiff

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Grand Slam

Where Is Mama?

Write a letter to your mom. Tell her something you’ve always wanted to say, but haven’t been able to.

There was a time
Long time ago
When I hated
Your mighty job

Where is Mama?
She’s not home
Over bond

Will you be there
To see me win,
To cook me lunch,
And take me home?

Half the time
You’re not around
I hated your
Almighty job

Sorry, Mama
I was a kid
I didn’t know
How it is like

It’s fine, Mama
It made me strong
All brave and right
Just on my own

Mama, work hard
Leave me the key
Go do your best
I’ll lock the doors

I grew, Mama
I get it now
It’s not your fate
To stay at home

‘Coz Mama dearest
I can see
The same future
Held for me

Why should I be
Caged inside
When I could fight
For better cause

Spread your wings
Be free, Mama
Don’t you fly back
What’s done is done

Someday I will
Fly by your side
I promise, Ma
Things are alright

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Dear Mom

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