The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

the roads not taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

A Jealous Woman

“A jealous woman, it was said, had multiple, all-seeing eyes, so that even if she sat still and never moved once, she could see every small action of her man in every part of the room. A woman’s jealousy was always born of a deep sense of personal             outrage: the man who ought to be paying attention to her was ignoring her and attending to another woman. Jealousy turned its sharpest focus on the rival, noting her every small response, every small look and gesture, to assess the seriousness of the rivalry. A  jealous woman was the most tormented woman, her body sprouting a hundred quivering antennae to catch the warning signals to respond to the humiliation of being completely ignored, even of being ridiculed by the laughing, flirting, cavorting pair.

It filled her with rage and shame, with hatred directed outwards toward the whole world, and inwards toward herself. Never in her life had she been in such a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and feelings, which was threatening to toss her around like a small helpless creature in a whirlwind, and then smash her to the ground.

Jealousy gouged out holes in a woman’s sense of self-worth that could only be filled by proportionate contrition and amendment on the part of the man who had started it all.

Jealousy, suspicions, anger, humiliation – she could not survive their combined power. Jealousy was part of love’s package which she was a fool to think she could approach with a fine selectivity: select in the passion and laughter and pleasure, select out the jealousy and the ugly, painful realities. No woman has ever managed to do that.”


Extracted from Miss Seetoh in the World by Catherine Tan, a famous author in Singapore. [REVIEW]

P/S: Dark, isn’t it? But that is just how compelling and ridiculously intense this book is. And that preceding excerpt is my personal favourite.

Explain Your Anger, Don’t Express It


When there’s a clash in opinion or argument, the anger resided in us  often results in hurling of spiteful words that we tend to regret thereafter. Or some would react in contrast like my angelic sister who would remain clenched up in fist and keep their anger subdued into the deep realms of their hearts. Then, if both parties value their face more than the relationship, the bond that takes years of build will go ka-boom where the obstinate pair makes no effort to patch back.

Neither of these ways would lead to the root of the problem. Neither of these will straighten out and ease the situation. And trust me, if the quandary is  not sorted out immediately, the scar will etched in deeper as more misunderstanding reign in along with the assumption that “I am the right one. He is the wrong one. He must apologise. If he doesn’t, we are over.”

In alternative to engaging in a spurt of fits and rage, how about being a [mature] man/woman and talk it out with the adversary in-said argument? If you don’t let on what you’re mad about and your reasonings behind it, who will be able to figure out what is going on in your mind?

Ask yourself: why are you agitated? Why do you disagree with him? Are you being rational and logical? Do you have substantial evidence or grounds to support your allegations? If you ticked all to the above, have a private lunch with him/her and sort it out like two adults. When I said adults, that means not resorting to accusatory tones and don’t try to prove you’re the right one. Try to step into his shoes and think from his perspective. Maybe he has a point there. In that case, devise a way out that will be mutually beneficial.

Both of you will feel so much at ease when you both extend your hands and shake/hug it out after it has all worked out. Months on, you guys will be laughing at how silly it is to be indulged in trivial matters.

Isn’t that easier than hanging on to anger which in turn disrupt your performance at work, thereby affecting your personal well-being at the same time?

I am one who always speak out my displeasure and dissatisfaction. I believe in having an open discussion if I am uncomfortable with any decisions made by my parents. I do get mad at first but I refrain myself from giving in to aggravation which will very likely lead to a whole new series of quarrels. Rather than slamming the door or ignoring each other for days, I take a deep breath and insist on having a heart-to-heart talk.

I am lucky to have both parents who are willing to lend their ears and have an open-mind when I object to something. Although the final decision might not stood by me, but when I explain why I am angry, it feels like a heavy stone has finally been lifted from my heart. Most of the time, they tend to comprehend my point of view which we then work towards achieving a win-win solution.

We are not born perfect. Flaws are designed to make us learn from mistakes and experiences. In an argument, we don’t care who is the winner or loser; who is right or wrong. Are a moment of pride and dignity really more worthy than the friendship/kinship that we have all constructed for so many years? Forget about self-regard and equip yourself a pinch of humility: Talk it out.

As depicted in the picto-quote above, “Explain your anger, don’t express it & you will immediately open the door to solutions instead of arguments.”


We live in a vast universe.

Stardust and light particles floating all throughout,

We are existences smaller than these.

One does not know when life’s direction would change

Sunk into a thick darkness like ink

Dragged into a deep abyss by disappointment

Trapped into a grave by illness

Trampled to pieces by frustration

You are jeered






But we preserved hope in our hearts

Kept a heart that would not give up beating

We still make tiny efforts in the midst of great despair

And this feeling of not willing to give up

It becomes the specks of starlight in the dark

We’re all…

Small specks of star light

Extracted from Tiny Times 小时代 (2013).

“When someone tells you, “I love you,” and then you feel, “Oh, I must be worthy after all,” that’s an illusion. That’s not true. Or someone says, “I hate you,” and you think, “Oh, God, I knew it; I’m not very worthy,” that’s not true either. Neither one of these thoughts hold any intrinsic reality. They are an overlay. When someone says, “I love you,” he is telling you about himself, not you. When someone says, “I hate you,” she is telling you about herself, not you. World views are self views—literally.”
– Adyashanti