tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39459010699036615292011-12-06T08:41:58.173+06:00Noting The Intricacies of LifeKuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.comBlogger2291100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-11382563892470072011-12-06T08:41:00.001+06:002011-12-06T08:41:58.186+06:00

I feel so reassured to know that there are generous and kind people in the world. Because of the difficult people I have met, I have been beginning to think that maybe the world has come to be a sad place where people forgot to treat each other kindly, the way we would want others to treat us. My family and I visited Adelaide over a long weekend (Friday to Sunday) at the invitation of a

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-24828160808753695982011-11-26T05:19:00.000+06:002011-11-26T05:19:47.299+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-50294672433495051462011-11-07T08:37:00.001+06:002011-11-08T04:02:58.505+06:00

My first semester for the master course is coming to an end. The exam started today. I am making time to study in between the demands I have to meet as a mother. Despite the complaints, it is relieving to feel that it isn’t as hard as the student time back then was when subjects were many and syllabuses were huge. It is surprising that we do manage to learn all the concepts we are presented with

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-8984219828290290192011-09-29T06:31:00.001+06:002011-09-29T08:46:26.421+06:00

My baby and I have the habit of putting everything in a song. We sing together every small bits and pieces of words we can put together. Now when she claps, it makes sound and she gets so excited and happy about it. She claps her hands and looks at me, her eyes twinkling. We sing, 'Clap your hands, clap you hands, listen to the music and clap your hands.' The first time she learned clapping was

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-73315298584518444992011-07-27T05:12:00.000+06:002011-07-27T05:12:09.939+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-73767714234346119182011-07-21T08:08:00.003+06:002011-07-22T18:13:36.995+06:00

I’m a mother of a 7 month old daughter and a student. I could have put my studies for later, taking priority to raise my baby first but I thought since I’m not growing any younger, I could as well take up both together, no matter how challenging that is. Also, I am not the first one to do that. I have heard of many mothers who pursued their career, even when it took them away from their children.

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-43222927106817999082011-05-15T07:34:00.000+06:002011-05-15T07:34:27.902+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-14887423200484155342011-04-19T16:46:00.000+06:002011-04-19T16:46:14.968+06:00

I think 20 years is a long time. Yes, 20 years back, there were more happy times than unhappy times. Our parents must have worried for all of us; maybe sometime the worry was too much to carry. But us, children did not know much. Or I think my elder siblings did know more about life and the hardship of a farmer. But me? I was not totally pampered but I saw less hardship than all of them. One

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-21197161127861087022011-03-22T12:31:00.000+06:002011-03-22T12:31:00.056+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-10222438899329177732011-03-19T12:36:00.004+06:002011-03-19T12:39:03.421+06:00

I’m more a social worker than a technical person. I sometime wonder if I have studied the right course and got the right job. But of course no matter where we are, there is always something we can do to help others. The recent voluntary work I did was the Blood Donation Campaign organized at the JDWNR Hospital, Thimphu. I always feel panic worrying if it would

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-24515871734233990672011-02-26T12:49:00.003+06:002011-02-26T12:51:22.063+06:00

On the Descending Day of the Lord Buddha, I and my family went to Tandin Ney. On the way up, we saw a group of students sitting around in a circle in the beautiful meadow, eating snacks. From one of their mobiles came the modern music and they seemed to enjoy the environment, the song, and the friendship. When I see such scene, this nagging thought of how they

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-4470480848780616402011-02-23T15:44:00.002+06:002011-02-23T15:44:32.362+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-40486757982784897772011-01-23T07:28:00.000+06:002011-01-23T07:28:54.105+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-40489452585102196352011-01-19T14:51:00.002+06:002011-01-19T15:45:11.275+06:00

Now that I am a mother I know the enchanted moments the mothers experience simply by looking at their babies’ faces. I also know the impatience mothers wait with for their babies to see them and speak to them. And during my time of being with the baby 24 hours, I have seen the difference men and women have in the nature of being different sexes. While mother stays home with her baby, loving the

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-70236201806577966752011-01-18T14:32:00.002+06:002011-01-18T14:32:34.214+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-29132752110493728492011-01-11T10:21:00.002+06:002011-01-11T10:21:42.790+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-1580696522962770192011-01-02T16:26:00.002+06:002011-01-02T16:26:35.754+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-30382896175919805342010-12-08T09:07:00.002+06:002010-12-08T09:07:55.389+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-82811380208222293442010-12-06T15:38:00.002+06:002010-12-06T15:38:19.483+06:00

Finding happiness by being unselfish How often do you experience selfishness? I wish I could ask this question to myself and answer that I feel selfishness none of the time.  I don’t remember an instance where I had been selfish, but I’m sure I have been selfish, for I’m human. I was talking to my friend Karma the other day about selfishness and how that affects decision making. I told him that

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-59896519447063742012010-12-02T11:17:00.002+06:002010-12-02T11:17:47.265+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-48369702064563222092010-12-01T09:01:00.002+06:002010-12-01T09:01:47.321+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-8712217410427563122010-11-30T13:34:00.002+06:002010-11-30T13:34:37.301+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-45739186283074736002010-11-29T09:10:00.000+06:002010-11-29T09:10:22.670+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-48970090935188106552010-11-29T09:03:00.002+06:002010-11-29T09:03:39.444+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-3974833297905450742010-11-26T12:10:00.002+06:002010-11-26T12:10:51.156+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-27169313410822993342010-11-25T09:51:00.000+06:002010-11-25T09:51:24.016+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-84843713462607307862010-11-23T13:47:00.000+06:002010-11-23T13:47:01.243+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-32288367357697228042010-11-19T11:54:00.000+06:002010-11-19T11:54:55.222+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-29996081453714838182010-11-16T12:26:00.000+06:002010-11-16T12:26:13.978+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-38543550002185954112010-11-05T11:37:00.002+06:002010-11-05T11:37:26.779+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-11028519897319301592010-11-02T14:05:00.000+06:002010-11-02T14:05:43.792+06:00

How senseless to disregard one's life by fighting foes Who are but frail flowers How foolish to spend our lifetime without meaning When a precious human body is so rare a gift Note: I put this here to caution myself and be mindful of my everyday thought and actions.

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-11499697625094463782010-11-02T14:01:00.000+06:002010-11-02T14:01:18.298+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-21464335561467503192010-11-02T13:11:00.000+06:002010-11-02T13:11:13.135+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-49816325283968108512010-10-27T11:46:00.002+06:002010-10-27T11:46:32.037+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-62967462291314342812010-10-26T10:06:00.000+06:002010-10-26T10:06:56.695+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-4734870590404120352010-10-25T15:57:00.005+06:002010-10-25T16:15:13.201+06:00

I have not written to my baby for a long time. I have been busy. There have been so many deaths in the family of my close relatives and social responsibility has taken much of my time. So many times I wanted to write and yet, I gave priority to my sleep, for I always returned home tired. But this does not mean that I have forgotten the baby I’m carrying, this soul, this person I’m going to bring

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-39115440686258244082010-09-30T12:08:00.000+06:002010-09-30T12:08:40.723+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-35794524553361965172010-09-17T22:40:00.000+06:002010-09-17T22:40:12.225+06:00

I wonder if I’m not dying tomorrow. Death is hanging right at my shoulder. It is peeping at me now and then, as if to ask me if I’m ready and it is so disappointing to say that I’m not. Who is? And now, I wonder at the countless number of people I know die of cancer. The first time I got kicked by such news was when I heard that one of my classmates’ girlfriend was diagnosed leukemia and despite

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-31861560179416184702010-09-07T15:33:00.004+06:002010-09-07T15:42:15.497+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-7607859440243108272010-09-07T14:43:00.002+06:002010-09-07T14:43:50.400+06:00

I have the habit of scribbling every small thing in my notepad. Now, this is bad because, I develop a certain kind of attachment to each of this notepad that I pain when I have to discard them. Today I am discarding one. Tomorrow I will have to discard another. I have a collection of letters. From long time back. They are like trash in a way because they occupy space. I like to keep my room as

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-65215824439056657862010-08-31T16:36:00.001+06:002010-08-31T16:36:30.006+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-15135469677335687462010-08-23T16:29:00.002+06:002010-08-23T16:29:47.679+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-88044445017934931162010-08-06T15:01:00.002+06:002010-08-13T16:55:13.522+06:00

It was nice to have so many people wish me on my birthday. I smiled right till I went to bed. I think I did have a good sleep too. Not dreamless though. I always dream of something. It was a mistake to watch a movie called 'Pulse 1.' Didn't make much sense to me but the eerie, haunting images kept coming back to my mind. It even disturbed my meditation. I no longer see birthday as a day to

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-87813405773507122022010-07-27T14:43:00.000+06:002010-07-27T14:43:32.065+06:00

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I’m now putting this question to myself. But why can’t an ordinary person write an autobiography? I want to know. My friend who already published a book and is about to publish another one says, an ordinary person doesn’t write an autobiography. His reasons are that, no one will read it. He said ‘You have to be famous to write an autobiography.’ I don’t agree. You will see why.  I feel like

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-86465429051615455412010-07-08T08:34:00.000+06:002010-07-08T08:34:27.117+06:00

I see a bad dream Lose sleep Worry about you And know why I need you I travel for work Go away from home Think of you And know you are precious Every little thought Is about you Every little prayer is for you You my mother, If only to have you with me forever I wish the world were permanent [Note: Had a very bad dream last night and I couldn’t sleep. I worried about my mother; just then I

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-46523698340993022472010-07-07T17:35:00.000+06:002010-07-07T17:35:57.077+06:00

I'm not trying to show my frustration here but you will see what I'm talking about when you come of age to handle your life and so many other responsibilities in life yourself. Right now, probably you don't understand what it is to have problems or what it means to find solution. I'm very postive that by being on your own away from home, you are seeing life in a differnt light and growing up

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-43860400360797906012010-07-07T14:19:00.003+06:002010-07-07T14:19:30.136+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-25560779338364421492010-07-02T07:26:00.000+06:002010-07-02T07:26:43.079+06:00

It is 6:58 a.m. now. I have been tussling in bed for an hour. I woke up to find that I had severe pain on the left lower abdomen. I was worried if something was wrong. My husband is a General Secretary of this Ngangpa Football Club and so he has gone for the Player’s Practice. These days a National A League is going on here in Thimphu. I immediately thought I must call him but I didn’t because I

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-68691208117778888372010-06-30T17:38:00.000+06:002010-06-30T17:38:13.943+06:00

I have nothing good to write about. I have been talking with Luzee on the phone for a long time. We were sharing our woes -- we know actually it is through such opening up that happiness can be shared. I know she is going through some hard times. Office and home and so many associated stress. I have been having the same stress too. These days, there is no weekends for me. And it is so hard to get

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-9843201130130251942010-06-06T10:26:00.001+06:002010-06-06T11:59:55.423+06:00

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It rained the whole night yesterday. Heavily. I’m about to write about a goodbye I said this morning and just when I thought I have dealt with it, I get an sms from this person. Uh, nice, should I say? And now, I’m biting my lips, chewing my nails and hitting myself on my head. But ok is all I can say. What is gone is gone. I can only embrace what comes. I knew this person for just two days and

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We reached Kangpara totally worn out and tired. We were so hungry we were collapsing. We wished that the Gup had prepared Suja and Zow for us. We wished about hundred different dishes. After we crossed the Ngera Ama River, when we asked the passerby how long the Gup’s office was, he said, it was just half an hour. But it stretched for more than two hours again. By this time we had not the last

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-67044025465010875772010-05-24T09:09:00.003+06:002010-06-06T10:29:40.893+06:00

22nd April, 2010: I must have walked this road at least 20 times. I must have crossed the stream in Godi 20 times as well. And for all those times, I'm sure I must have dreamed a hundred dreams. I don't quite remember what I dreamed to be when I grew up. I remember, when I was first placed in Tashigang, my father reached me to school on foot. My father carried a wooden box and I walked beside

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-61278022034853966082010-05-11T21:00:00.001+06:002010-05-11T21:06:55.736+06:00

I stayed for two years in Kanglung but when my friends made a trip to Rangshikhar, I could not. I lived with regret for nine years. But today, I was to erase my regret forever. I woke up early. I said prayers and this morning, I could visualize my lama so well, so well that I even started to fear if it was a bad omen. I prayed that the Rangshikhar Rinpoche be there at the gonpa but he wasn’t. We

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-87818764478547165932010-05-06T19:25:00.000+06:002010-05-06T19:25:34.192+06:00

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5th April, 2010; 6:52 a.m. : I never felt this alone. I wanted to log in and make an entry here simply because I have no one I can talk to when I'm feeling so extremely alone. I'm driven in the wilderness, in the remote villages and the closest people I can talk to are not here. God knows how many tears I shed since yesterday. I really cannot say why I have this deep sadness but I never felt so

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-86352956631569112952010-04-30T22:11:00.000+06:002010-04-30T22:11:00.390+06:00

April 29 2010: Back to Bartsham from Yalang. I thought the journey back was easier but when I reached Bartsham, I found that I was so tired and my whole body ached. I went to my brother’s house to have lunch and take bath. Brother is in Monggar for a meeting and Mathang was gone to help Aku in sowing maize. I went to Aku’s house and talked with him for some time and when I found that I was really

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-30779816974637661782010-04-23T21:02:00.003+06:002010-04-23T21:02:12.078+06:00

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We have hired 42 graduate enumerators for GNH Survey. We are soon going to the field. Right now, before anything else, we are training them. I don’t want to say that I lose confidence in our education system. But of course, sometimes, it is so hard not to lose heart to see that our graduates do not understand what dzongkha word is for constitution. But right now, what I’m enjoying is standing in

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I'm sitting in the class just now. It is tea break. I don't wanna take tea. I take more solids than liquids so I would better sit here and write what comes to my mind. I just read the article by ArrogantBuddha in nopkin.com. I wonder why he is acting like a hungry old man who has remained virgin all his life. He seems to have been affected so much by the operation he had to undergo. No wonder, he

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-2806492003843906872010-03-08T11:08:00.000+06:002010-03-08T11:08:39.650+06:00

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I ate an early heavy dinner today. Karma goes to play basket ball these days. I have no objection in playing sports, but playing cards is what I cannot accept. Not that I see it be utterly useless or anything but without any good reasons, I don’t find it good. I had been waiting for him to come home. I wanted to open the door as he returned, and I wanted to serve him dinner like a good wife would

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-28815459480796642682010-02-26T16:19:00.000+06:002010-02-26T16:19:02.261+06:00

How I hate official dinners...mainly because, I can never take it as natural. I can never bring out my true self in the gathering of officials I cannot take to be showing natural selves too. As the guests part, a host says to me, 'I think you didn't enjoy.' I told her that I did enjoy and I couldn't eat much because just before the dinner, I had noodles in town. That is true. I did. As the

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-14785239684797061362010-02-10T09:39:00.001+06:002010-02-10T09:39:33.074+06:00

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I must admit that before the day could break, my sister and this woman had so much to share. I think my sleep was disturbed. In my half conscious mind, I could hear each word they uttered. They shared their family history to the cause and effect to a few small gossips. I found that this woman has three siblings including herself. She has six children. Then it suddenly clicked. I heard from here

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-48310430592900281072010-02-09T12:59:00.003+06:002010-02-09T12:59:15.736+06:00

I have often wondered on life and why people choose to live the way they do when they know they cannot take anything in death. Haven't it occured to you, how hard it is to strive for what would only give you worry?  I ain't a philosopher but I have often been running with a question on why there ain't many who make wise choices in life. Why?  If you knew you were to die tomorrow, would you

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-75109341998429646892010-02-09T12:58:00.001+06:002010-02-09T12:58:11.517+06:00

I was at the Casualty at 1:30AM today (28/01/08) – (say midnight). A doctor and a nurse who were on duty seemed sleepy and red-eyed. A 74 year old man sat in a far corner of the room, groaning and coughing without a break of a second. I looked at this man and saw my father’s face. I thought maybe, climbing age and answering life with steps like that isn’t the way. I thought I wouldn’t want to die

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-78597757347537310482010-02-09T12:54:00.000+06:002010-02-09T12:54:03.910+06:00

One moment I am happy. I am laughing hard. I am laughing until there are tears in my eyes and my back aches. And next moment, I just get so grim. I look at life and I just try to figure out a way to understand it better. I am walking and I pass by different people. Some hold me thinking what has made their life so successful, whereas some make me wonder how life can be so unfair. The mixture of

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-34547974773908310572010-02-09T12:53:00.000+06:002010-02-09T12:53:00.721+06:00

A little sick of rules. A little impatient of the time. But seeking beauty in the imperfections. I'm still that...working so hard. And I don't know why things are happening the way they are.

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-30594515425389303642010-01-29T08:54:00.000+06:002010-01-29T08:54:56.876+06:00

I wrote before that I am not interested to learn driving. It just wasn't in me. But now, more out of necessity, I tried to learn it bit by bit. I didn't have straight days lessons. I drove once when I went home from office, forgot for a week and so on. I thought, I will never drive. I also thought, it would be easier if there was a way for me to steal the interest to drive from zealous drivers.

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-90062282371682433162010-01-28T17:08:00.003+06:002010-01-28T17:08:00.933+06:00

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I’m sitting alone in the office just now. Office time is long over. All colleagues left. Night is falling fast, but even when I’m haunted by the ghost stories, of spirits walking in and around our office, I find myself excited. My sister, my niece and nephews are gonna be here tonight. Tonight, I will celebrate. Tonight, I will not sleep. Even when sleep begs me, I will talk throughout the night.

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-10542435303522398492010-01-16T21:41:00.000+06:002010-01-16T21:41:12.008+06:00

He never comes His reason I don't know But I wait, and I wait Not the first time Not even second But I still wait How long, I wonder Yes, how long? And would I still wait? Oh no, there's no question I've waited long I'm scarred bad I'm only human I tried And wait I can, no more Goodbye honey Separate ways is what you seek Here's freedom you've chosen

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-37809748233545006602010-01-13T15:45:00.001+06:002010-01-13T15:45:38.890+06:00

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It is early. The cold makes it seem earlier than it actually is. It is almost nine in the morning and the sun is shining brightly. But it is still cold. I lean my head down backwards, close my eyes and let myself sink in the momentous mixture of joy and sorrow – a great mixture that is almost making me want to cry. I’m going to office. Who says civil servants can go to office any time they want?

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-89814444567221458232009-12-31T07:27:00.004+06:002010-01-02T14:56:53.106+06:00

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I just had no time to attend to the computer that was giving me problem. My nephew wanted to work on something, but I just had no time to see what was wrong with the computer. I told him that I will try to check it later. Later became two days. And finally, tonight when I reached home (10:00 p.m.), just like that, I turned on the computer. I wasn’t really putting my heart and soul into repairing

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-57800103075391753122009-12-30T12:43:00.003+06:002009-12-30T12:43:03.730+06:00

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17th December: It is a National Day. It was a holiday yesterday. I got an invitation card too. The Ministry of Home and Cultural Affairs send invitation cards to different offices on this day. But I couldn't really plan what I would do. Kinley asked me if we should go to the Changlingmethang, but I told her that we can discuss about it with other friends. But we didn't. The problem with our

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-83712510136722852242009-12-18T21:17:00.000+06:002009-12-18T21:17:26.244+06:00

For the many years that I have lived listening to the good teachings, I wonder if it is even rightful to think what I'm thinking now. Am I angry? I don't know. I wonder at how people can take you so foolishly. Don't we often forget to look at ourselves and judge others? Don't we often ask questions to others before asking them to ourselves? Don't we often forget that people are all same,

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-22161787971141184322009-12-16T12:34:00.002+06:002009-12-16T12:34:31.290+06:00

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I grew up in a farm. When I say farm, it is not as in the context of a farm in the developed western countries. Bhutan is a small country, landlocked between India and China. More than 70% of our people depend on agriculture -- the subsistence farming. I was born into a couple who made their living from subsistence farming. I was born as the youngest of the seven children. My elder brothers and

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-69813967753787194102009-11-23T16:24:00.003+06:002009-11-23T16:24:55.496+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-72004538808624472922009-11-23T15:45:00.001+06:002009-11-23T15:45:03.998+06:00

I call my husband. I sometime curse myself for being blunt. I have to bear the brunt of bluntness so often that I curse myself to death sometime. I call my husband, not even giving a second thought that probably he is enjoying somewhere with his friends and in that jurisdiction, my voice isn’t something that is welcomed. I talk to him and I hear cacophony of woman like voices mocking at me. I

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-25529736759712880152009-11-18T09:34:00.001+06:002009-11-19T09:29:51.837+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-87430147012467484592009-11-17T12:58:00.000+06:002009-11-17T12:58:13.348+06:00

I said, I will now work harder, concentrate appropriately and thus bundle myself together with people who are called 'good hardworking people.' And it seems to work. Maybe it is only for today but I'm glad even if it is just for a day. Though the weather is very gloomy and we have seen the first winter rain, I seem to embrace the mood of working harder even as the cold seeps in my bones. For

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-71482962968762764462009-11-11T19:58:00.000+06:002009-11-11T19:58:35.561+06:00

If I were to define my life now, it would begin without a single achievement. If  I were to define my life now, it would just be a single blank page. If I were to define my life now, it would be just a starry dumb pair of eyes. If I were to define my life now, it would just be a butterfly-pupa who never knew of the beauty of having wings. If I were to define my life now, it would just be an

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-70720501591281993002009-11-11T17:55:00.002+06:002009-11-11T19:39:38.283+06:00

Something is terribly going wrong somewhere. I'm not doing something right. Am I not committing myself enough for what I should? Am I not following the thumb rule of how life should be lived? What is going wrong and where? I wish I knew this. Then I would know what exactly I must do and how. I think I have taken things for granted for so long. I think I have depended on faith so heavily for my

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-61213375261455283042009-11-10T16:29:00.000+06:002009-11-10T16:29:05.076+06:00

The title as you see is just to console myself that I cannot expect people to be what they are not, just so it will please me. I cannot hope people will change just because that will be convenient to me. And I cannot hope people were different, just as I would make them, if I were the architect, just so they will merge completely with my thoughts. But even when you know all that, sometime it is

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-70637733068441318772009-11-01T21:53:00.000+06:002009-11-01T21:53:45.719+06:00

The meeting on child poverty takes place in a five star hotel. What an irony, a senior officer says.  Another senior officer has been flying out so often (visiting other countries on official purposes) that he gets free ticket as a compliment. What an irony, I would say, because I would like to ask if that is a way to work efficiently. And for this child poverty meeting, there are more than 50

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-23970751165719038922009-10-29T16:17:00.000+06:002009-10-29T16:18:26.163+06:00

I have loved before. I have been married before too. And I was happy once upon a time. That must have been a year back. Or maybe, it was only yesterday. To me, it seems like it was only yesterday; like I have never really been apart from him.I was hurt again today. In love. And that is when I realized that I have felt this pain before. It was then that I knew, I left love in the hope of

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-21522578508003775272009-10-29T15:41:00.000+06:002009-10-29T15:42:23.456+06:00

You are not who I thought I will loveYou are not who I thought I will cry forAnd yet, you make me want to cryI want to stop dead and not talkI want to shut my eyes close and not lookAnd yet, I see your face everywhereOr what is there to care?Let me cry until tears run dryLet me look for you until you are really here…Even if I don’t know if you would really be there //Author’s note: In the mood of

Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-59066013468980049592009-10-27T16:31:00.000+06:002009-10-27T16:36:00.317+06:00

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Kuenzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05508353599559535141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3945901069903661529.post-27098079588878991392009-10-27T09:28:00.001+06:002009-10-27T09:28:59.073+06:00

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