Writing Piece: Simplicity

**I found this little gem I wrote as a sophomore in high school and it resonates with who I am and want to be. Although my life is nowhere as carefree as it was back then, I think the true goal of “voluntary simplicity” is a high and virtuous art of living!**

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Simplicity

My life is simpler than most people would prefer.  People would say I am very lazy, but it just turns out that I like to sit around at home doing what I call “nothing” all day.  My hobbies and routine fit perfectly with my way of life as well.  I am not in the least fond of shopping, computers, using cell phones, etc… and would rather spend that time watching television, reading books, eating, and sleeping.  I prefer to have as much free time as possible, instead of cluttering my schedule with classes one after the other.  As I become stressed very easily, I find no need to strain myself with things that don’t interest me.

I strongly believe that one’s lifestyle is heavily dependent on how he is raised in his childhood.  Coincidentally for me, my life has never consisted of too much busyness. As a child, my parents encouraged me to take a few classes in Japan and New York but they never interfered with my daily life.  Now, I don’t take any classes, other than joining a few after-school clubs.

I have stayed at relatives’ houses over a period of time on numerous occasions and I find their lives too fast for me.  My cousins have to run from one place to another, and literally fall asleep before their head even touch the pillow because they are so exhausted from the day.  I quickly become worried for most of the day for no apparent reason and am aggravated when put into this atmosphere.  Being a perfectionist, I find myself troubled about everything as it feels like I have no time to breathe once in-between activities.

If someone were to ask if my life could be any simpler, my answer would be absolutely not.  However, if asked what I could do to less simplify my life, I wouldn’t mind taking a few classed, the way I did several years ago, but nothing more.  I like the way my like has shaped up and find no reason to burden myself with clutter so early in life, as I will have to go through more hardships in college and later on in life.  Some people choose to adopt the lifestyle of “voluntary simplicity” and I am one of them.

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My 1st Attempt (and Failure) at Writing Satire

**I wrote this piece for school back in 2004 when I was in high school (age 16). It was a miserable failure as a satire piece, and my understand and use of the term cannibalism is completely wrong! But I love my imaginative ideas for the piece, so I’m sharing! 🙂 **

Hunter or Hunted?

There is a perpetual common belief that cannibalism is wrong, while hunting is okay. Whether it be with a rifle, shotgun, handgun, or something more distinctive, like a slingshot, army knife, mallet, or one’s own hands, hunting is still legal in some areas – when following certain conditions – but legal nonetheless. How can this be? Won’t inflicting harm on animals, intentionally, breed more violence among human beings? How can someone who kills other living beings for sport, or the thrill of it, not be considered a cannibal?

I propose a solution, more precisely a lesson that will allow the wrongdoer to see and feel the gravity of the situation in which he has been put upon himself. This method will be conducted in two stages. The first will be used for those who hunt with traditional weapons, such as the rifle or shotgun. The second and more dangerous of the two will be for individuals who like to take risks by hunting with mallets or their bare hands. Although the two solutions are very different, both will be very successful in reducing the number of hunters in society today.

The first method allows the hunters to get to know the atmospheres the animals live in, especially the ones they were caught trying to kill. Prisoners are taken to a special jail that is not a building with cells, but resembles a real forest with animals. The goal is to last two days in the wild, with only their jail suits and a bottle of water. No shelter is provided and neither are weapons to fight off predators. Survival instincts and being comfortable in nature is a must to pass the course. On the other hand, the second method demands prisoners to be placed in an arena without any weapons or armor, and encompasses the idea of gladiators. The animal the hunter was till recently trying to kill is then placed alongside the criminal, followed by another. If they are not fierce, such as deer or rabbits, they are to be substituted with wild animals, like bears or tigers. Without any protection, the goal is to survive the attacks of the “enemy” for five minutes. These two methods will make many, not only the criminals, think twice before going hunting again.

Poem: The Secret

**I wrote this poem for my class back in 2003 when I was a junior in high school (age 16). I can see where this needs improving, but I’m leaving it as I originally wrote it for now.**

The Secret

In New York, there lives an old woman.
To the rest of the world, she is only known as Anne;
A reputable jewelry store owner.
She’s a widow and her past is a blur;
Her husband had died many years ago
But that is all anyone knows of Poe.
Over the years, Anne has bought two manors,
She’s highly educated with manners.
Anne runs her store with determination,
For the place is a big foundation,
And her vast knowledge of diamonds and pearls
Makes true the desires of all girls.

Her fascination with Prohibition,
Caused a secret hidden from suspicion.
At night, the store transforms into a bar,
Here drinks served to underage kids are.

It’s Time To Start Posting Again!

Hi Everyone!

I think it’s getting to be nearly 2 months since I’ve written anything on here, and boy has it been a crazy and eventful 2 months! I’m getting ready to go to Chicago in a few weeks so that I can start my ‘MA Program in the Social Sciences’ which could more easily be described as my second MA in Anthropology and hopefully some History mixed in. So the countdown has officially begun. There is a lot more preparation to do before I make the big move, like finding a place to live (!) but hopefully luck hasn’t left me and it’ll all work out in the end.

Part of the prep of leaving home has been to help my mom (whose birthday it was today coincidently – Happy Birthday Maa!!) make some room in the house by getting rid of years and years of paperwork that I’ve hoarded since my high school days (eek!). So we’ve just got suitcases full and my cupboards are overflowing with clothes and lots of memorable junk, so the spring cleaning for Manjree has commenced. Boo-ya!

Anyway, so the good news is, while I was rummaging through stacks of projects and lecture notes, I found my ‘MEMORY PILE’ – which is literally a pile of poems, stories, essays, etc… that I’m really proud of from the olden days – which means I’ll have more to post on here soon. I thought I’d lost it, and it majorly sucked because nothing was saved on my computer since my last one unexpectedly died years ago. But thank god I’ve found it now and I’m not letting it out of my sight anymore… So a big yay and thumbs up!

I’m excited to share my writings with you…keep an eye open for upcoming posts!

~ Manjree

Poem: A Junior

**I wrote this poem for a class assignment back in 2003 when I was a junior in high school (age 16)**

A Junior

A junior attending Marlborough High
Goes to school with one big and one small eye.
A girl with light brown skin and jet black hair,
An obedient student there.
Her listening skills are her best features,
Whether focused on her friends or teachers.
Old, Japan-bought pants the high-schooler wears
With her black jacket and T-shirt with tears.
Not much for appearances and fashion,
She’s more comfortable doing addition.
When the bells indicate school is done,
Her effort and obedience have gone.
She goes home to procrastinate some more,
Returning to school sensible once more.

Poem: History

**I wrote this poem back in 2002 as a high school sophmore (age 15) for an English portfolio assignment**

History

There is no greater feeling in the world
than craving all the knowledge of the past
and wanting to know all there is to know
yet not being able to know it all.

There is no greater feeling in the world
than visiting a historic landmark
like the brilliant Himeji Castle;
to set foot on the same sacred terrain
where so many before us lived and died
in another dimension completely.

There is no greater feeling in the world
than reading a first rate non-fiction book
about the horrendous Second World War;
it taught an unforgettable lesson
that such events should not be repeated
for such mistakes could be disastrous.

There is no greater feeling in the world
than watching a movie or video
on Ancient Egypt’s bizarre way of life;
to compare their splendid customs with ours
and appreciate their complex structures
which are more like fantasies in our time.

There is not greater feeling in the world
except the moment of satisfaction
when you come across new information.
that opens your eyes to another world.

Poem: The Mustang Barn

**I wrote this poem back in 2003 when I was a junior in high school (age 16). N.B. the Mustang Barn stands for my School**

The Mustang Barn

It is dawn but there is still darkness outside
The sun has scarcely shone or shown its smile
One more boring morning has begun
She looks for the yellow undertaker
And waits, but it’s late, which she hates

She sees it approaching, making a screeching sound
Walks out of her house, down the street, and around the bend towards it
Upon reaching the Mustang Barn, she greets the brainteaser
In return, she is given hell right as the chimes begin to ring.
She survives the class, but can she remain alive for five more months?