Finneas O Connell

Break My Heart Again

Hey, you
I’m just now leaving
Can I come around later on this evening?
Or do you need time?
Yes, of course, that’s fine

Hey, you
Good morning
I’m sure you’re busy now, why else would you ignore me?
Or do you need space?
You can’t help it if your mind has changed

You’re so blue
Are you still breathing?
Won’t you tell me if you found that deeper meaning
Do you think I’ve gone blind?
I know it’s not the truth when you say, “I’m fine”

Don’t pretend that I’m the instigator
You were the one, but you were born to say goodbye
Kissed me, half a decade later
That same perfume, those same sad eyes

So, go ahead and break my heart again
Leave me wonderin’ why the hell I ever let you in
Are you the definition of insanity?
Or am I?
It must be nice
To love someone who lets you break them twice

– Finneas O’Connell

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Be Gentle With Your Heart

When you have a hard time letting go of someone that you still care for, realize that if they wanted to stay they would still be there. Very few things can creep in the way of true love, and if a person wanted you in their life, they most certainly would make a way for that to happen.

Petit Biscuit – Sunset Lover

Back to the days where I sleep with sunset lovers on repeat as the moon slowly fades behind the sky and the twilight fades into the darkness before the sun climbs above the horizon. But in my mind, I’m laughing beside you, walking down the streets with you, away from the world, lost from my troubles, I’m safe with you! đź’ś

Far From the Maddening May

Just an update on the month of May.

My health issues have grown over a few weeks of diarrhoea and constant headaches to a total collapse over the weekend that was probably catalysed by the tremendous amount of stress I had with teaching, working, invigilating continuously for two weeks, all of that without enough food and sleep. With temperatures running on an average of about 40 degrees Celcius these days, I’m pretty sure I could have been beef jerky any day if the amount of time I spent outside was accumulated on a day planner.

New planet, who dis?

I’m relocating within a few weeks to a different place, perhaps a new country, a much colder country than what I’m used to, which of course adds more to the stress. Also, I’m planning for an early retirement from full-time pedagogy and focusing more towards research and keeping to myself. Peace and serenity are essential for the words inside me to be nice and comforting. This peace has been really scarce ever since I started making sense of the world and I really don’t like the Hyde that comes from my Jekyll.

New Blog Section

Considering the tremendous amount of time that I’ve spent teaching and the experience I’ve gained, I will be adding another section to the blog titled Academics. The section will cater for both, the Cambridge System followed worldwide, and the Sindh (and Federal) Board of Education followed in Pakistan. I’ve been working with the curriculum wing for the last few months, trying to fix broken textbooks and syllabi. I have studied from the same textbooks as a part of my syllabus. The only difference was, I had a plethora of books I used as a reference for studying on my own since my local textbooks were just skull crushers.

I think it is imperative I do my part to help the students in colleges and high schools to at least grasp some sense of what they’re learning from those substandard textbooks that have been in mass print for over thirty decades.

And of course, every resource that I will put here will be free of charge. No student should ever need to pay big bucks to learn an efficient method to solve page-length binomial equations!

Upcoming posts

  • Eternal artwork and blurb

I’ve been told that Eternal’s paperback cover is being redesigned and will be finalized tonight so that I may get a glimpse of it Monday morning. The previous cover was just too cliche! Let me share it with you all. But that’s already in the bin. I don’t want it on my book cause it ain’t about people in love. It is on the essence of love!

Eternal - cover

  • Mad Mother’s Day

I’ve penned down a post as to why sometimes wishing Mother’s Day to someone who’s not experienced the love of a parent is the worst thing you can do to ruin a person’s day. Just like 2 + 2 = 4, so is 1+ 3, 4 + 0 and 7-3. You might not be wrong, but the other person can also be right in his place.

Just because you have a loving mother does not mean every mother extends love to their children. Read the previous sentence again. I inherently believe that you cannot become a mother without love. You won’t possibly carry something in your stomach for a better part of the year unless you absolutely fricken love it, and that little piece of shit is gnawing at all the energy in your body! But somehow the love that was built for the child seems to get lost making some mothers monsters. My mother is a world class teacher, maternally she is feral.

  • Fast Furiously

Ramadan is just around the corner and I think this time I will be able to finish my manuscript of The Modern Muslim. I believe that it is high time someone pulls these chains holding thousands of kids locked inside when it comes to personal development and soul-searching. Religion is never a mask to hide from the crap we do all our lives and play Jesus for 30 days. (I mean no offence to anyone reading this. By this line, I meant being pious and acting religious whilst fasting for a mere period of 30 days while continuing ass-holiness the entire year!)

  • Why do I write?

I have to reflect on this. I’ve been asked by a lot of people about my writings. Even blamed by many for spewing my hatred around for people in my life and being fake nice towards them in person. My reflections about this will follow shortly once I’m done cleaning up my room today!

Leaving this post with a beautiful track by Enya from The Lord of the Ring movie. May your May be calm and adventurous and may it bring you joy and happiness till the heat of June burns your ass!

My North Star

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant.

It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting a big “F” at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s past records and she put Teddy’s off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners… he is a joy to be around..”

His second grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.”

His third grade teacher wrote, “His mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn’t show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken.”

Teddy’s fourth grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.”

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy’s. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper That he got from a grocery bag Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume.. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, “Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.” After the children left, she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her “teacher’s pets..”

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling* her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer…. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson’s ear, “Thank you Mrs. Thompson for* believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.”

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, “Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.”

For those that don’t know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist Hospital in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.

Warm someone’s heart today, pass this along.

I love this story so much, I cry every time I read it. Just try to make a difference in someone’s life today? Tomorrow? Just “do it”.

Random acts of kindness, I think they call it?


The writer of this post is uncredited. However, the message is worth passing on! The post is a way to express my gratitude to three of the most kindest people who’ve taught me how to live and love: Syed Najeeb Jaffri, Sajjad Hussain and Kahkashan Iqbal. đź’ś

Floating Therapy | Google Images

Zero Gravity

There’s a gaping hole in my heart that I think will never heal. Every morning I wake up with it bleeding through my chest. I feel lifeless and the whole world weighs down upon me. I ooze out the pain and clean it with gauze and words that don’t make sense anymore. Words like it will get better. Words that echo in my head. I tell myself that everything will be fine and that I have to stay strong but your words resonate in my mind.

Every abuse, every curse, every insult, every lie. And yet I’m the one who gets gunned down. Funny, too often, the person pointing the fingers is often the one with the dirty hands. That’s a metaphor. The way I see it, everyone is made of both the good and the bad. Everyone has a choice. I had a choice, just like you did. I had a choice and I chose to stay every single time. Despite all the fights and mood swings, I stayed. Despite the hurt and being left alone to deal with your pain, I stayed. And every choice you made, you pulled the trigger, flipped off the switch, rocked the boat, jumped ship and ran away.

By now, the day is almost complete. The moon is still here listening to my stories about you. My bones ache and all the words that I had used as glue seem to give away now. And my mind drifts into sleep when it makes sense of nothing but pain.

Dishonor on your cow!

I can’t believe Disney’s in the process of gearing up a live-action Mulan movie. I hope they don’t screw it up like DBZ, Ghost in the Shell, and many more by white-washing traditional Asian characters and concepts!

I was more excited about Mulan than Emma Watson’s live-action Beauty and the Beast because:

A – It was pretty obvious to me, even as a child, that girls with books and brains are always considered unfit according to the current norms of our society. Most of them are never interested in buffed men or rainbow extravagance (makeup and jewellery).

Mulan

B – It takes more than love to exorcise evil within a person (it really isn’t about just one damn boy or girl) and let’s just be realistic, people don’t change for love presumably for better or for worse. That doesn’t mean it cannot happen; the world is unpredictable.

Mulan has always intrigued me, inspired me, pushed me to move forward. I remember listening to I’ll Make a Man Out of You for months when I was in school and failed miserably in sports. I was the skinny kid that could never sprint a lap without tripping or crashing into concrete out of exhaustion. I could barely swing a bat; too small to climb up my bicycle – too small to stop it either and it would always end up in me sprawled on the road, smashed into a tree, or breaking someone’s grandma’s knees! (Yeah, that happened.)

By the end of high school, when puberty dawned on me – let me rephrase that – puberty clawed the shit out of me because I can proudly say, ‘Puberty, you did NOT do it right!’ I turned out to be a slimy, skinny shell of a “BOY” unable to grow any muscle-mass. I was unfit for sports either, cause:

  1. I didn’t like much of the games.
  2. I only played Basketball, Scrabble and Table Tennis, none of which are celebrated like the casual volleyball, cricket or baseball. So the only people I played with were my aunts at home.
  3. I was unfit as a BOY who would eat PAN/GUTKA, smoke cigarettes or weed, throw random derogatory slurs at random inanimate objects just to look cool and ogle at every girl that was passing by.

In short, I was sentenced to loneliness and all sorts of zones that existed at that moment (I even had a cup of tea with Zod in the Phantom Zone).

During that time, I found my solace in books and in that moment, I re-watched Mulan and found a connection to Reflection that Christina Aguilera sang so beautifully.

Unprepared for a world that wanted me to fit in,  I was dying every single day trying to mask myself into something that I wasn’t in the first place. Mulan is my symbol of hope and courage. She represented strength in the face of unknown terror and made me realize that sometimes we’ve got to lose everything just to stand on our own and be proud of ourselves.

Just like so many other Disney movies, this movie means so much to me and I really hope Disney would not destroy it by miscasting someone in the lead role for the sake of pop culture fame and big bucks!

Within-You-Is-Goodness-–-The-Receive-Series-on-Genesis-1-10

My religion is humanity

There are times when I’m just disgusted by how my family has been harbouring bigoted beliefs of self-righteousness and blackmailing me into insinuating hatred against minorities.

Writing has helped me jog down the memory lane and I recall a dialogue with a friend who happened to be a part of a minority in my country that I was programmed to judge and condemn. And unknowingly I made myself very clear that I wouldn’t want to be friends with such a person. Years later, I have found out the reason how we never got to talk much after that incident, because I didn’t know then, that he belonged to one of the sects being ostracized in our society.

I cannot express how small I feel and how ashamed I am for being unkind and judgmental. I really didn’t know better and honestly, if I could go back and do one thing to change things, I’d give myself the courage, to tell the truth, stand up and speak my mind, to stand fast for the rights of others and to fight hatred and self-righteous religious fanatics.