A Deck of Cards

It was late in the afternoon on a Monday that my friends decided to pass time playing cards. I of course joined in their game, and even won once until I lost three-fold. (Why??!)

Amidst playing our fourth round, an employee of the school saw us on his motorbike and stared at us, as my companions had pointed out. He shook his head and pointed at the four of us, at which we understood that apparently we weren’t allowed to play cards at school. So we obediently packed up the cards despite our anguish at having lost our only entertainment.

We weren’t playing with money involved, just merely passing time and enjoying each others’ company, so why, why is playing cards bad? Is it because we’re still students? Do we easily assume that anyone playing cards is equivalent to gambling? Are our minds to be possessed by supernatural beings with such act?

It boggles me how we cannot play a game, a simple game of cards with no money involved whatsoever, and not be condemned?

I have no ill will towards anyone who disapproves any of my statements. I fully understand the great influence of playing cards with regards to gambling and how it has negative effects, mentally, to children and even to full-grown adults. I simply cannot accept the fact that we are immediately perceived to be doing wrong in playing a game that does a great deal in our logical thinking, social skills, and not to mention, it is a cheap, environment-friendly and enjoyable recreation during our stressful college life.


They should be thankful that we didn’t do it Las Vegas-style of playing, and we were playing outside on the grass, wind and all!

There were only four of us playing quietly, with the exception of some occasional bursts of laughter, excitement, resentment, and feelings.

We were having fun! It was energy-friendly! Plus, most of us didn’t even have high-tech gadgets or smartphones or laptops on-hand since we don’t have electricity as of late because we were previously struck by a hurricane.

Next time, I’ll bring UNO cards and we’ll see who’s gonna get whipped. (I definitely hope it’s not us! Ha ha ha ha!)

I am a fish drowning in the rain
With eyes wide as the sun under the cold mud
Raindrops thunder on top of my skin and into my ears,
Like blocks of ice and flaming bits
The taste of chalk dust is dry in my mouth
Pebbles, stones and leaves all falling about
I can never be too careful, those things are about to drop!

I am a fish drowning in the rain
Who knows what would happen if I was out at sea
Engulfed in the dark blue waters and served as prey
Oh, how would I survive for even just one day!

I am a fish drowning in the rain
I might stay a while longer, I think I can take the pain

Bec Dailey


It’s currently twenty-five minutes past twelve midnight, and our neighbors are still singing. If you would call it that.

Their voices blasting away through the speakers is so bad that I could even hear dogs wail and bark at the sound; "Oh, the torture!", I can just imagine them saying. I can’t help but put a thought in mind if I could have the liberty to set the dogs out and devour the throats of the tone-deaf karaoke singers. The end to their celebrations!

Alas, the air is terribly stagnant, and the only entertainment it gets is the erratic noise from our conceited neighbors. I can only be grateful for the cold air the electric fan gives and the extreme fatigue my body is experiencing. But before I turn to the world of dreams, I stretch my hands lazily… and reach for the telephone and call the police station.

I bid you all adieu.

1:00 A.M.

It’s a dark and cloudy afternoon as I begin to write my endeavors in print. My dear mother had proposed that I start a blog if I had any intentions in joining the publishing world as it would be a great bonus to my resume when I apply for a job.

The problem now arises as to what to blog about. I have put into consideration about my everyday life which I can comment as barren as the sky on a hot summer day with the occasional airplanes, jets and even storms passing by, and that my modesty proceeds me so; in short, my life is not interesting at all, but in however way, I still try to write.

When it comes to interests or hobbies I have dabbled on so many things; ranging from music to sports to science and then literature, that I have not put the time and effort to dedicate myself in any hobby, but surely, with the considerable time (or not) I spent on each, I must have sought out a goal when I approached the matter. Well, yes, of course. If I were to put it into words, my goal would be to seek knowledge out of all those activities. Just like a food critic, tasting each and every dish he comes across in his travels, I similarly immerse myself in each activity out of interest and curiosity. However, in our singular world, we are expected to live singular lives. Many might disagree with me, but I know some would.

Having the privilege to experience and learn so many things is a blessing in my childhood, but now that I am already in my third year in college, well, it has not come quite as good as one may think.

Though I may know many things, I lack the status of mastery, and in turn, my self-confidence is not so great. I am not degrading myself nor do I consider myself modest, and I quote, “you may take it that I am speaking the exact and literal truth.

Oh how many times I would envy my friends and classmates who have found their “true calling”, their singular path. In comparison to their rose-colored lives, mine would be gray; diverse but indefinite. But what come may, I am still distressed as days pass on by without anything to preoccupy my mind other than that one singular problem.

I now turn to the art of written literature; if I would ever find myself to fit into that world of words, I have done a great deal of my time not wasting it, I truly hope so.