Wee hours writing

I can’t sleep right now. It is 12.42am in the morning and I have a course in exactly nine hours time and my eyelids just refuse to shut. Am I excited about something? Maybe or maybe not. I suppose there is a momentary excitement as my friend just sms me that she is back from her holidays and we will be meeting up. But is that enough to keep me awake? I don’t think so. But I am less tired now. Perhaps the thought of writing has perked me up. I find writing in the wee hours in the morning rather enticing. The feeling of your hands over your keyboard rattling away as your thoughts take the express train to town. A feeling that is hard to explain but can only be simply understood as writing.

I read a book today called the Lazy Millionaire. You must be giggling at the thought of me reading such a book. Why would a teacher who has a “stable” (nothing is stable in this world) government controlling job have anything to do with being a millionaire? You are right. It has nothing to do with me. I am not going to be a millionaire in the next three years of my life since I have signed THE CONTRACT. But that does not mean you can’t think like one.

I like the idea of how simple it is to be a millionaire. It has nothing to do with getting rich schemes but it has everything to do with the way we live and think. You know my poor old mother has been drumming this idea into my head for ages and yet I only realize it after reading the book. My mother may not be a millionaire but her thought process was close or similar to one. Maybe that is why she was able to break the poverty cycle and live in a relatively comfortable life. Though I know she could do better.

I like my life. It has been great so far (THANK GOD for that). But I realize that things have changed. Just like in the novel, THE GIVER. I have started to see colour, shades of colours. The colours change. For me I see gold, white and blue. The colours that symbolizes something that is fundamentally mine. A reminder of the past and yet the mystery of the future. I am frightened yet intrigued when confronted by the colors. Some of you may think, “Oh she is talking philosophically” Actually I am not talking anything near that scale. I am just describing, narrating an incident that seems to evolve on its own. Do you need to understand what I am talking about? No. Well if you did, then you would understand why a Raven is just like a desk.