Thursday, 13 August 2015

Poems Concentrated Ed:4


This is the 4th Edition of Poem’s Concentrated. And this time, it’s another Hardy. I think it’s a really special Hardy too. There’s something unique about the way he keeps the poem so ‘Neutral’!  This has a place as one of my favourite poems of all times because of that, and I think it deserves a place on your favourites too. Read it, and you’ll see what I mean.

Neutral Tones
We stood by a pond that winter day,
And the sun was white, as though chidden of God,
And a few leaves lay on the starving sod;
         – They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
Over tedious riddles of years ago;
And some words played between us to and fro
         On which lost the more by our love.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
Alive enough to have strength to die;
And a grin of bitterness swept thereby
         Like an ominous bird a-wing….

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives,
And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me
Your face, and the God curst sun, and a tree,
         And a pond edged with grayish leaves.

Make sure to read it another time, just so you absorbed as much as you can, before you read below.
So, what did you think? Hardy is such a master of words. The poem is so flat, so grey, the subject sad, grey, the tone full of remorse, also grey. Wait. Everything about the poem is grey. Even the words! Okay, I did that. But in every stanza, in every word even, he preserves the grey, moody, sad, remorseful feeling, and he truly makes use of the purpose of poems, which is to convey emotion and feelings. He conveys to us the feeling he had when he realised that his relation is coming to an end.  That’s why I love it. Today, this edition is going to end with the summary I got from a great website called ukessays.com. Enjoy!
The speaker addresses an estranged lover and reminisces about a foreseen moment in their past, from where he already anticipates the demise of their relationship. The first three stanzas (lines 1-12) describe the past incident when the speaker faces the bleak moments of a break up process. The speaker is mentally perturbed by the disillusions of love, believing that things were once beautiful. He is frustrated when love perishes and felt deceived by the sweet promises love had to offer.

(Read more: 
http://www.ukessays.com/essays/english-literature/summary-of-neutral-tones-by-thomas-hardy-english-literature-essay.php#ixzz3i7bJrTWW)
If you enjoyed this, make sure to check out the previous 3 editions of Poems Concentrated:
Please be sure to share and +1 this.
Remember, if you are an aspiring poet or even a established one, please do send in your poems and short summary to spitfirerob@gmail.com, because we’d love to feature them!

Thanks for reading!

Monday, 10 August 2015

Poems Concentrated Ed:3


This is it! It’s finally here! Been waiting for it? This Poems Concentrated Edition 3, and it contains Rayhaan’s second poem! I hope you enjoyed last week’s edition, which was a quite nice Hardy, and it’ll be the same next week too. So, like before I haven’t read Rayhaan’s story until I paste it here, so my reaction is just as fresh as yours! Without further ado, let’s move onto the poem below! If you don’t know what Nelli is, don’t worry it’s given below. You’ll learn enough about it in the poem too.

Under The Nelli Tree

As an infant I was scrawny,
I would not bother to eat.
Regardless, you’d pick for me,
The Nelli from our tree,
In its shade from the heat.

I grew in size and age.
I was your favourite from the others.
You loved to keep me by your side,
To eat Nelli with all the while,
Under our Nelli Tree.

Time passed with pointless words.
You no longer wanted my company.
The fruits grew ripe and fell,
And I’d eat them by myself,
You hated to see me, the peasant in your kingdom.
So down came the Nelli tree.


--Rayhaan Mubarak--

Like always, make sure to read the poem at-least once over before you read below, to grasp as much as you can.

Right. Now hopefully you’ve understood as much as you can, so now you can read the summary. I think the poem was really filled with regret, sadness, and maybe even had a tinge of anger too. The summary is going to interesting, don’t you think? Well, here it is, along with the definition of Nelli for those of you who didn’t know:

Under The Nelli Tree is a heartfelt reminiscence by the poet, who has been abandoned by a motherly figure who nurtured him since birth. When the poet begins to eat the Nelli fruit by himself, she cuts it down.
The poem is a sigh of regret as the poet recounts his childhood days when this lady would pick Nelli from a tree in their garden. Nelli is a fruit, commonly known as the Indian Gooseberry, and is found in parts of South Asia.

Wait. Rayhaan warned me about this. Don’t jump to conclusions! It’s not about his mother, he told me. So don’t bring it up, or it might get slightly awkward. Let’s forget about that for now.

The poem was heartfelt, and I think that hit me the moment I started reading this. It recounts such a sad story that happens so often. People change so dramatically sometimes, and it happens too quickly for you adjust. It’s something so many writers have written on. Right now I can’t pinpoint it, but I’m sure I’ve read it in a lot of books. It’ shocking that sometimes, it can be someone that you know so well, someone you trust, and here in this poem, it’s a mother, or a motherly figure. And actually, we have to talk about the emotions hidden in this poem, which I’ve just mentioned above. You can sense love, admiration, sadness, and near the end, hate. Then, when you just about finish reading it, you realise suddenly that there was a sense of anger throughout the poem too. That was just my brief analysis. I think there needs to be someone who we could have here to do proper analysis of these poems. If you are out there, do contact me!

And that brings me to the end of this edition of Poem’s Concentrated. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you like where this series is going. The next edition will come out on Thursday, and it’ll be another strong poem by Hardy.

Remember, if you have any poems or stories just lying there in the hard drive of your computer or in an old book, please send it in! I created this blog as an outlet for you to show your creations to a ready audience. Take the opportunity while it lasts! Please do think about and do it!

And if you don’t have anything written? Well, try your hand at it! If you been enjoying our posts, you might be a good author or poet too! Try writing something, and send it in to spitfirerob@gmail.com!

Also, I’ll now be accepting videos, so if you want to try and see if you’ve got any video creation, gaming or filming abilities, you can now do it here!

Please do +1, share and comment on this post!

Thanks for reading!


Friday, 7 August 2015

The Team 35

The Team 35 is an amazing story a friend and I wrote for fun, which soon escalated to popularity within our classes. I personally think it was one of the best stories I've ever written, and while this may not count for much, you can soon read it for yourself! The idea is pretty original, and something I'VE never seen before. Yeah sure its a good guy superhero vs bad guy superhero, but the powers they have a very different from the ones present superheroes have.
To go to our official post just click these words: The Team 35 is awesome!
[I guess I was taking a cruel advantage there. :-)]

Poems Concentrated

Poems Concentrated brings you a weekly select poem along with it's summary. It's one of our most viewed features! We hope that every week we can bring you a part of the lovely world of poetry, and educate you on it too! It's published on Monday and Thursday every week, so look below to see the latest Edition:

(Just click the Edition number you want to check out and you'll go there. i.e: Click the word 'Poems Concentrated Edition 2' to go to the post with same name. The link is given in case it doesn't work)

Poems Concentrated Edition 3: (>>http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/poems-concentrated-ed3.html<<)

Poems Concentrated Edition 2:(>>http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/p/poems-concentrated-ed-2.html<<)

Poems Concentrated Edition 1: (>>http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/p/poems-concentrated.html<<)

Tuesday, 28 July 2015

What's next? Blog Update July

What’s next?
August is nearly here, and that means a lot to Interest Concentrated. As you probably know if you’ve been reading all the articles, I’ve stalled updating all the stories and haven’t put up any articles of interest until August begins, and all of us are truly in the holiday season.
So, now I want to talk about what you should look forward for in the coming month. There’s a lot of new stuff coming your way, as well as some restored stuff and continuations. Here’s a guide of what you should be excited about:

 8:49: I’ve temporarily stopped updating this story, and it’ll open again with the latest installment on the first Tuesday of August, which is the 4th! "The Mystery Continues"

‘The Flipside’ series: A much loved series by fellow author Rayhaan. He’ll be continuing the series with The Flipside 3 (it might have a different name. It’s not for me to say), and as with all of the Flipside stories, they’re full of irony and suspense! And although I can’t exactly pinpoint a date of publishing, they’ll be coming!

The Team 35: This is probably the biggest launch. You really need to read it when makes its appearance! I’ve been putting quite a few hours into this. It'll be relaesed on the 6th of August!

Tech Section: I’ve been working on completing an article on which I have my say on Apple and I’m also planning on writing some stuff on tech in the future, being one of my favourite subjects to talk about anyway.

Poems: This is something I’ve been thinking about publishing for a while now, and I thought that I might make it a weekly feature, with an article releasing each week with either a poem that was submitted by one of you (or me) or some random poem by a random poet.

Finally, Your articles! I can’t leave this out! Who knows what articles might arise from submission? Sure, no-one other than Rayhaan has approached me on writing articles, but that’s why I wrote it here. Do send me in some articles! Surely you have some pieces of writing saved on your computer that no-one has seen before? You must something you’ve written at school for some project? My first blog on this ‘Crash’ was written at school, and it turned out so nice that I decided that should open a blog for all these miscellaneous writing that everyone does and that eventually goes to waste. You know you have it! Take the time to transcribe onto the computer if you didn’t write it on the computer, and send it in to me! Who knows, people might think it’s amazing. And even if they don’t, well, that’ll give you basis to build your writing on in the future!

So, that’s it for today. I discovered a new found love for writing like this, and it’s quite fun too. Though I wish typing didn’t have quite that friction to it that writing on paper has. Meh.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the holidays and I hope this blog makes them even better! Always remember to check on this blog once a week!!


Thisath

Sunday, 5 July 2015

Flipside #2

And here it! Yes, you (probably) guessed it! This is Rayhaan's new series of stories! The Flipside. And he's been pretty quick to submit these too. Remember to say Thank You to him. And I'm pleased to announce, they are going to be pretty good. They're full of irony and suspense and give quick read entertainment to you, and can be understood by anyone with a brain. (Sorry if you're offended! ;-)) Anyway, if you seen the title of this blog, you'd notice it says Flipside #2. Why? Here's the explanation: the Closed Door is actually Flipside #1. I guess it makes sense. So, I'm going stop babbling on here, and I'm going to present you with the story! Enjoy, comment, like, share!!

The Flipside #2
  
 It must have been midnight when the Captain sighted the rig. He was tired, and his crew on The Triumph had lost faith. They had planned to sight this oil rig 10 days ago, and had grown worried. “I see it!” he yelled, as the crew came into the room, excited. The crew members had been in the adjacent cabin, murmuring their dark intentions. One of them, Kane, was an experienced sailor, and was orchestrating something very… ‘Evil’. Nobody knew much about Kane, besides his experiences on other oil tankers.
“Looks like the ol’ Captain’s found the rig”, muttered Kane.
“Yep. Guess Jim was too chicken to burn the maps.” said Joseph, who was one Kane’s partners. 
     As the tanker docked at the oil rig, the crew followed the Captain to the rooms they were staying in. Hours passed and nobody had seen Kane. Then, as the captain was on the phone with his kids, an explosion erupted from somewhere within the oil rig. Instinct causes his eyes to close. There was fire, and the captain could hear the screams of his crew. It was disastrous. Wait. The captain could hear them, but shouldn’t he be dead? As he opens his eyes, he realizes he’s on top of a smokestack. How on earth did he get there? Clinging to its edge, he stands up on the edge and looks down at the flames surrounding the ring. He can’t believe his eyes. His eyes widen in shock as he sees the crew, burning, screaming. They had all planned a mutiny against the captain, under Kane. But now they were burning. Suddenly the Captain sees Kane, no longer in the earthly human form. He had been reduced to bones, and was crawling up the smokestack, screaming a language undecipherable by human ears. Smiling, Kane reaches the Captain and knocks him off into the ocean. Kane had got what he wanted, and as he stood victorious, the rig sunk into the sea.

Enjoyed it? Check out the previous and following Flipsides if you haven't already! 
Flipside 1:http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-closed-door.html
Flipside 3: http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/flipside-3.html

Monday, 29 June 2015

01:49 PM

So this is my counterpart to Rayhaan's story. This is a horror story. Well at-least it's supposed to be a horror story. The whole story is more or less finished, but I'll be submitting it in daily or weekly entries (comment below what you think it should be submitted in. Daily or Weekly? Think about the rest of the audience. Will the cliffhanger effect of the story and the demand of the story be better in weekly submissions or daily submission? I prefer weekly, but it's all up to you. Take your choice!). And also, I think it's worth mentioning that I was inspired to write this by the ever amazing book "Dracula" by Bram Stoker. I know the book is big, but it really is worth the read! And to those who have already read the book, there is a bit of a Easter Egg in the story. It's not much, but I felt that I should pay the original book some tribute. And below is the first part of the story. In this part, nothing much happens, but don't worry, things begin to happen later.
When you have read this please do share this among your friends and communities. If you have any suggestions to make regarding my blog, please do comment. And remember, you too can submit articles for this blog. If you have anything you think is appropriate for this blog, send it along to my email at spitfirerob@gmail.com. I accept nearly anything on this blog, be it reviews, stories, or poems. It can be anything that you've written on, or have an interest writing on. I’ll always give you full credit for it, don’t worry. 



1:49

Contained below is the last part of Mr. Blake Harker’s dairy.

February

8.35PM, 10th Tuesday
I arrived in Mr. Ashbeck’s house. He was nice and welcoming, took me immediately to dinner. Then we enjoyed a coffee in his study and talked about his areas of study. He also showed me around his house. A grand mansion, constructed in 1786 he said. 26 rooms laid out across 3 floors. Been in the family since construction, and he says it always will be too. A stunning place, I must admit. He led me to my bedroom, which I’m in right now. Has its own shower and toilets and all modern conveniences. Won’t bother him about it though because I probably won’t need it anyway. Nice comfy bed, hope to enjoy a good night sleep.

9.13, 11th Wednesday
Discovered an amazing garden area surrounding the area! Mr. Ashbeck informed me that I’m free to spend as much time as I want here, and can also have my lunch here if desired. Declined of course, don’t want to be any more trouble than I already am, and anyways, it was much too cold. Breakfast was served on the second floor dining room, which I was told is also the place Lunch would be served at 2pm everyday day. Such a beautiful place. Should start work seriously tomorrow, and I was told that if wanted I could visit their huge library anytime. The house is under strict management it seems. Cold dinner served today at Second floor dining room.



7.45, 12th Thursday
Restless night sleep. Heard fairly audible screams downstairs. Strong winds with lots of rain. Ironic that tomorrow is a Friday the 13th. Inquired about the screams, turned out it was housemaid with nightmares. Sent home to recover apparently. Dark windy day, very cold. Didn't get to go to the garden, worked in the Library. Nice and warm, very good place to settle down to work. Food served to perfection as always. Mr. Ashbeck left late in the evening on business to London. Be back on Sunday he said. All food will be served to me as usual, told me to do as I please, but not to go outside the house grounds. Wonder why? Anyway, that was not in any way my motive and as the days are getting colder again, I’ll rather stay in, I said. Going to bed early, as it’s of no use staying up late.

7.50, 13th Friday
Last night, same again. No screams this time though, but the darkness swept in like a shadow. Wind and rain, and if I’m not mistaken howling too. But of course, Mr. Ashbeck had told me about their dogs, which were kept just behind the servant quarters. Nevertheless seemed a bit eerie. Morning seemed just as gloomy, even a bit foggy. Discovered a flaw in accountant’s calculations, wrote up a letter with an extract to send to him. I’ll have to post it tomorrow. Walked around the house today, in free time. Discovered some amazing old family portraits, probably very valuable. I found another old small library on the third floor. It appeared to contain very old archived family documents, so I didn’t dare mess with them. The whole day retained the same gloomy, dark feeling and it rained more or less all the time. The day got worse and worse as time went on. About to go to dinner.

9.45, Same day
I am back from dinner. I’m writing this to record down a curious incident.
I went down to dinner, which today was served in the hall on the 1st floor. The skies opened up again and heavy rain drops started plummeting the windows. The lights in the room started flickering, and the candles on the table swayed about too, certain as I was that there were no draughts in the room. Then, eerily, I started hearing the same howling I had heard last night. This all seemed fairly normal to me. The air was humid and a mixture of warmth and biting cold. It surrounded you, curled around you and gave the feeling of being roasted in a kiln. Suddenly, as I was about to bite into a leg of roast turkey, the screeching and pounding on the windows began. These sound weren’t created by raindrops, that much I sure of. It was like the sound scraping fingernails on glass combined with the sound of an ironsmith pounding iron into shape. It grew more and more intense, the sound coming around the windows of the hall, closer to me, closer to the end of the room. The thick heavy curtains started swaying. But there was no draught.  Suddenly, some distance away, from the kitchen I heard muffled screaming. “No! No! Not again!” This the voice screamed over and over before breaking down into hysterical sobbing. “No! Not….”, then the screaming stopped. The voice disappeared altogether, as if it had never existed. The scraping stopped, leaving the pounding to go on. So the pounding continued, slowly lowering in intensity. It grew lesser and lesser, until it too, disappeared.  The rain continued, but it was less powerful now. It had become but a slight drizzle. The room was left to an eerie reflective silence. I was left to the silence. There was no sound at all, not from the kitchen, not from the outside. It was only me, left to myself, to hear myself breath in the fear and horror surrounding me. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed back my chair on the soft, quiet carpet. I made no noise. I slowly made my way upstairs, the heated house now feeling cold and cruel. And that is where I find myself now.

What had I witnessed? Who was it screaming? Who was it pounding the windows? With these thoughts and these fears, I lay down on my bed. The time is 9:20 PM.



11:36: Why am writing again? I don’t know. I'm wondering if I have lost my mind. Outside, the rain has begun again. The wind beats at the outer walls, trying to tear it down. I'm sitting at my desk, with my desk lamp on, shivering. The house is getting on nerves. But I don’t know why. The dogs outside are howling. I hear the clattering of glass somewhere. I can see thunder and lightning outside my window. This situation is making me feverish. I feel cursed. This house feels cursed. There is something wrong, somewhere, but whether in my mind or whether in this reality, my brain can’t work out. I feel that I have to write this down, I feel as if this might be my……  I don’t dare say this. But I will. I feel that it might be last letters. I'm feverish, struggling to go to sleep. I lay down my pen now.



12:04: Midnight. I can’t stand this. The rain is worse. The wind is worse. My mind is worse. There is no one in this house. No one except the housekeeper and two maids. But they sleep downstairs, in their own rooms. Then who or what is it that I hear, pounding on the stairs, pounding up the corridor? Who is it making the screeching sounds against the windows? Oh, I am filled with terror. And, the wind. Oh, the wind. Outside, it is raging.  I see the huge conifer outside is swaying. It sways to and fro. I wonder in fear, will it fall? I calm myself, it is over a hundred years old. It surely won’t. Darkness sweeps in through the closed window. I have never seen such darkness. I never knew such darkness. What I see outside, I see only when the thunder or lightning flashes the sky. It rips across the sky, tearing apart the darkness for a second, illuminating fearful, but possibly imaginary sights. Once, I could have sworn I saw a face through the window. But this, I'm sure is impossible. It was my terrified imagination. It was impossible because, I’m sure I saw a dark scar across the face’s cheek. How? How did thunder illuminate it? It is not up to me. But, this proved to me that it was but imagination. Because it is this dark feature that makes unique the face of Mr. Ashbeck. My troubled mind must have superimposed his face on the illumination. Ah, again! I hear the sound of powerful footsteps outside my door. It sound like it’s walking up the corridor, coming back down. Oh, what is this terror? I will not and cannot lay down to sleep.

12:24: The Conifer has fallen! The mighty tree has fallen. This storm has broken what was mighty in the tree. It has broken what was mighty in me. There is biting chill in the room. A cold feeling. But I have stopped shivering. Any courage that was left in me is gone. I have succumbed to fear and terror. My body has given up on me. The howling has begun again. But it is louder. More intense. But I do not worry. I cannot worry. I am now void of feelings.

1:02: I am now sure that I have lost my mind. I am seeing things. I am hearing things. Inside my very room. Every now and then, I see wisps of grey light float around my room, hear whispers of voices. Are these sounds and lights… ghosts? Ghosts? If they are, they do not seem to know of my existence. 

1:49: I belong in a mental asylum, the state I am in now. I hear pounding on the stairs, the house is shaking, and the storm raging. Wisps of grey light floats in through the walls and doors. They haven’t taken any human form. There is searing heat burning through the house. I believe it is on fire, but because of the way I am I cannot be sure. It could be fire, it could be broken nervous systems!  No! As I write this the pounding comes near. It reaches my door. No, it cannot be. The door is no longer of solid existence. It is shimmering! All solidity is gone. It cannot be. Outside, through the shimmering, I see the gruesome shape of Ashbeck. Is it him? I need only look at the face. The dark scar. It’s there. He’s there! Oh goodness….. He’s blending through! He’s he/////////

There ends the dairy of Mr. Blake Harker. Two months later, a search party discovered the remains of burnt down house. There were hardly any remains. The house, being so far from civilization was never seen to be on fire. But then again, it need not have been. Through the scattered remains, the search party found evidence of previous life. Parts of burnt bodies were found. These were examined and they didn’t show up to be Mr. Harker’s so we came to the conclusion that they were of the servants. But when we searched for records of people with such DNA we didn’t find any of them or of possible relatives.  Then they found the fragile burnt diary of Mr. Harker. It was burnt around the edges, the pages were extremely fragile, but through painful transcription we discovered the cruel and most possibly supernatural explanation to the disappearances of Mr. Harker and the house. With further research, we found a person named Mr. Ashbeck had never existed, and any letters or emails he had sent to Mr. Harker were never found. We also found that the large mansion that Mr. Harker describes was never officially recorded. What relation Mr. Harker had to Mr. Ashbeck, Mr. Harker never revealed. The letter Mr. Harker wrote to the accountant was never found. Mr. Harker couldn’t make or receive calls because the house was far out of nearby cell phone towers. Why Mr. Harker never mentioned that, we don’t know. The mystery will go on, but inside we know it will never be of success.

Thank You so much for reading! That's the end of 1:49, and I hope you enjoyed it. I did! If you're are looking for another story to follow, check out the Team 35, (http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/p/the-team-35.html, or follow our Poems Concentrated series, or check back weekly for the Flipside series!

Thanks again for reading, and be sure to +1, share and comment on this article!

Saturday, 27 June 2015

The Closed Door

  Chapter 1: The Closed Door
This is a story written by my friend Rayhaan Mubarak (be sure to follow him on twitter @rayhaanmubarak (https://twitter.com/rayhaanmubarak) ) and this is just the first chapter. He’ll be submitting the articles as he writes them, chapter by chapter. And don’t worry, he’s much more dependable than me when it comes submitting the articles. Even I don’t know the story and it’s going to be as much a surprise to me as to you when the storyline slowly fades into existence. He hasn’t decided a name for the story yet, so for now it’ll be titled ‘The Closed Door’.
When you have read this please do share this among your friends and communities. If you have any suggestions to make regarding my blog, please do comment. And remember, you too can submit articles for this blog. If you have anything you think is appropriate for this blog, send it along to my email at spitfirerob@gmail.com. I accept nearly anything on this blog, be it reviews, stories, or poems. It can be anything that you’ve written on, or have an interest writing on. I’ll always give you full credit for it, don’t worry. So, without further ado, enjoy this story!
 It was early in the morning when David woke up. He jumped up from his mattress in the living room and ran to the master bedroom. He had not woken voluntarily. His subconscious forcefully woke him up to respond to his mother, who had been calling his name.
She was terminally ill, and needed David to speak to her in order to calm her whenever she got a panic attack from staying in the silence so long. He reached the closed door of her room and called out to her; “Mom? Are you al-right?” He waited for a reply, even though he knew she did not have the strength to speak.
 It had been almost a year since David’s mother fell ill from the epidemic, but despite this, David could not predict her sudden attacks, when she would call for him and then remain silent for days. David could do nothing but wait till she would call for him again, for her bedroom door was locked, and she had the keys to it. She had locked herself into the room months ago to prevent David from her contracting her condition. As he leaned against his mother’s bedroom door, a pungent scent filled his senses. However, his all-consuming urge to open the door was stronger than its scent.
     Life was far from easy for David. He had lost his job when the epidemic broke out, so couldn't afford good healthcare for his mother. All they had was their ancestral home, with nobody else to help them. David could never leave his mother, and because of her disease’s infectious nature, all he could do was serve her all of her meals through an opening in her door. “I wish you would just open this door”, he would plead, but she wouldn't say a thing.
Ever since she called out to him, David hadn't heard a thing from her. He began to worry. He began to feel alone. Truly alone. This silence was mind numbing, for it had been weeks since he last heard his mother speak.


It was all too much for David. He could not take it any longer. The police sirens and the screams of innocent people dying coming from outside the house no longer meant anything to him. After building up a little courage he finally decided to pick the lock on the door, just so he could see his mother one last time. He grabbed his tools, and in the dead of night he started his work. He picked the lock on the door for hours. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead until he opened the door. “Finally”, he muttered under his breath, as his eyes widened with anticipation. He rushed into the room. But, at the sight of his mother, he fell to the floor.  “All this time I could forgive your silence”, he laments. As he begins to incessantly sob, he realizes that forgiveness no longer mattered. He remembers what his mother used to say when his father would cry; ‘a man does not cry because he is weak, but because he has been strong for too long’. David embraced these words as he embraced his mother, for her silence was now permanent.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Update:
Hello there!
I have some good news and some bad news for all you loyal followers of Rayhaan's story.
 I'll start with the bad news. This story won't continue. Sadly, Rayhaan doesn't have to the time to continue writing a long complex story like this any more.  He might continue this IF he gets the time, but for now this project is off. :-(
But I think you'd love the good news! Rayhaan might have stopped this story, but he still just hates to upset you guys! ;-) (Okay, maybe he loves writing a lot too.) SO, he decided to begin new series of story that are easier for him to write! So let him explain it in his own words, which I will extract from one of our own conversations:
The Flipside- This is basically an idea i have,where i write random,unrelated short stories,filled with irony and suspense.They may be -------- as bizarre as ------------, but only at specific times.There will also be small doses of horror in this series. Should you choose it, each story will be titled: 'The Flipside ---------- ' and so on and so forth.
As you can see I have left some spaces filled with '--------'. These are in substitute to some names of some other article titles that Rayhaan discussed, which I decided not to reveal publicly as they might spoil some of those POSSIBLE future content. This information is not relevant right now to you. ;-)
So, from now on, Rayhaan will submit a collection of stories called 'The Flipside', that is unless, something else goes wrong. Hope you enjoy it!


Saturday, 30 May 2015

Speech. How do we understand it?

Part 1
To those who speak at least 2 different languages.

Have you ever wondered how you actually make meaning of the language? For example, the word food. In English, it's 'food', in French is 'nourriture', in Spanish it's 'comida'. Do you think that our brain remembers each word separately in the head? For example:
English: Food
French: Nourriture
Spanish: Comida
If you think about it, that's a really tough way to remember it. Each and every word in a language has to be remembered separately. Taking it into computing terms, that's like the brain making different 'folders' for each language and storing the words there. Wouldn't that be wasteful? Sure, the brain doesn't really have a defined storage specification like our computer and yes, the human body is in some ways inefficient. , but nevertheless, it's really very wasteful. 
Now my idea (which I really want someone to prove or disprove. PS: Send me some article on it if you find any!) is that the brain must store it in a way that isn't so wasteful. Maybe, just maybe, it stores each word in a shared folder. For example, when we think food, our head forms a general image/smell/taste/experience of it, and associates it with the sound of the word, so in that way, if we speak more than one language the brain suddenly associates that image with all those other words for it in the head. For example:
                                                                                                        
Food (a mind image/smell/taste/experience stored already in brain): Nourriture - (French)
 Food- (English)                                                                      Comida- (Spanish)
So, in this way each word is stored with the object of thought.
To make it easier to wrap your mind around (if this wasn't easy enough), think of it this way. You, your mother, and your brother have 50 images in a folder, on the family computer, which is 1GB in size and they are all technically exactly the same. Now, in this situation, you could; make three copies and store them privately in each person's account (using up 3GB of space) OR make the folder public and store it in a public folder for everyone to access (using only the necessary 1GB of space). What would you do? If you make the sensible choice you'd choose to make the folder public and store it in a public folder for everyone to access. Why? Because this option is way more economical and uses 3 times less space than the first option. 
So, that's what my idea is. In simple the brain stores all the words and their translation into human languages in a public folder, making it easier to access and using up less space.

Part 2
So, continuing from there, I will move onto another theory, and while some scientific research has been done into this and it's not exactly one of my ideas, it's one that you're better off knowing. Anyways, it's always better to add more info to a topic isn't it?
This topic also relates to the idea of speaking more than one language. Also, I know I did say research has been done into this, I don't think they did it into what I'm going on about. Another thing to point out too is that Part 1 was pretty simple and made easy to understand. It might seem as somethings may not add up, but I'll do my best!

So this theory also uses the idea that the human brain works like a computer. On a computer, it seems to you that it is actually using English (or some other preferred human language) to communicate with you. Well, it isn't. What is actually happening is the computer translates the word, say “Start”, into computer language (which isn't really legible to anyone except an experienced computer technician), so it would be '01110011 01110100 01100001 01110010 01110100' (in this case translated to binary). So maybe, in the brain, each word is a signal of waves or buzzes or some repeated removal of liquid in a specific pattern (okay, that's pretty far fetched). So, saying that the word 'food' is something like 'Z...ZZZZZ.Z….ZZ.ZZZZ.ZZZ..ZZZZZZZZZ...Z', taking that 'Z' is some kind of brain buzzing, the word 'food' will be given to the brains word database like this:

                                                                                   Food - (English)
Z...ZZZZZ.Z….ZZ.ZZZZ.ZZZ..ZZZZZZZZZ...Z: Nourriture - (French)
                                                                                                   Comida- (Spanish)

In Part 1, I said 'Food (a mind image/smell/taste/experience stored already in brain)'. The word 'Food' there was actually 'Z...ZZZZZ.Z….ZZ.ZZZZ.ZZZ..ZZZZZZZZZ...Z'. It's that signal that means a mind image, smell or taste etc..

So, for now, that's it. I know I have more to say on this, but if do have the time, I'll carry on with this. Right now, I'm more focused on writing and finishing up some short stories of mine. I thin k you'll enjoy these more. And if you have something to say about this topic or my blog, feel free to comment below! And remember, next time it could be you writing articles for this blog! If you have anything you think is appropriate for this blog, send it along to my email at spitfirerob@gmail.com. I accept nearly anything on this blog, be it reviews, stories, or poems. It can be anything that you’ve written on, or have an interest writing on. I’ll always give you full credit for it, don’t worry. 
In the meanwhile, this article will keep your mind working!


http://brainconnection.brainhq.com/2001/01/27/how-the-brain-learns-a-second-language

Sunday, 15 February 2015

Why does the pen you use for daily writing need to be good? And some suggestion and recommendations for choosing a good pen!

Why does the pen you use for daily writing need to be good?
    The pen you use daily matters. A lot.
                        What type of pen do you use daily? A disposable cheap ballpoint pen, a refillable expensive ballpoint pen, or a fountain pen? Or maybe something in between?
                       Well, it turns out the pen you use daily is quite important, and can say quite lot a lot about you, and can define the impression your reader has about you. In this article I’ll focus on presentation. How is your handwriting? Horrible? Or Angelic? What if (for now, let’s imagine this), that maybe your handwriting isn’t really quite horrible but it’s just a matter of the pen you use?
                        Actually this figment of imagination can actually work! The better the overall writing experience of the pen, the more your handwriting will improve in the long run.  The definition of a good pen can differ from person to person. Some people will like rough, thick and embossing pens, while others prefer soft, medium tip, smooth flowing pens (par exemple, me).  I have found this exceptionally true in some of my friends who use cheaper pens.
                         The switch to a more appropriate, better writing pen can immediately visually enhance your writing. In fact, most of the enhancement in your writing lies in the visual appearance! Your piece of writing should have a good look to appeal to your readers and also, this better looking piece of writing can also help you get more satisfaction out of yourself. I believe this is a key factor to better writing. To have better writing, you should have a good idea of your abilities and weaknesses. This can potentially help you improve your handwriting, but this time, not just visually.


So, what kind of pens can you use?      
                        Now that you know you actually make horrible, ugly, and not-very-perfect handwriting actually good by the use of proper pens, you wonder, what kind of pens can you really use?
                  Mostly, this depends on you. You’ll need to head out to a proper stationary store and test out potential well-writing pens.
Step 1: Start out by selecting the type of ‘tip’ or ‘nib’ you like. 0.7mm? 0.5mm? 0.38mm? Or 0.28mm? Yep, these, and many more sizes are available out there. (But if you’re going with a fountain pen, the least size you can probably get is 0.5.) Try each of the shops options, and make a well-decided choice. For more general use I’d go with 0.5 or 0.7, which I found is the most popular type of nibs.
Step 2: Then, choose the type of fluid that you prefer. ‘Carbon’ ink (commonly referred to as ‘Ballpoint’? ‘Gel’ ink? Or normal fountain pen ink in ‘Rollerball’ format? Or just fountain pen ink to use with your fountain pen? It’s up to you.  Here, I’d recommend Gel ink.  I find it the most reliable and best looking of the other options, and most Gel inks are waterproof nowadays.
Step 3: Now, once you have finished choosing your proper nib size and type of fluid you’re free to choose a pen of choice. Beautiful metal bodies, artistically engraved nibs, really high prices; this stage is totally up to you. Just make sure that the pen you choose matches with the choices you made above.
My personal recommendations for your consideration
Okay, so maybe you don’t want to start straight from scratch.  Below I’ve compiled a small list of Pen models that I’d personally recommend to you. They're arranged under the titles of Ballpoint, Gel, Rollerball, and Fountain. Most of the pens I’ve listed come in many different nib sizes, and so this won’t pose a threat to your selection. One thing that will, however, is whether you like the design of the pen. Also, it’s worth mentioning the pens I’ve listed don’t usually pass the $25 mark. So, it’s your turn; make a choice!


Ballpoint
1.     The Parker Vector, Jotter, (and some other low end pens by Parker) offer great, smooth, uninterrupted writing. Although the refills are a bit on the pricy side, they don’t finish very quickly, so this a good viable first choice.
2.     Some offerings by Papermate. Papermate offers great writing pens for low end prices. They have a multitude of offerings, from clicker pens, and ‘stick’ pens, so you can’t go wrong with Papermate.
3.     The Staedtler Stick. This is another option where you can’t go far from wrong. You’ve probably already seen this with other people, and have probably even owned it, so you know that this is a great reliable pen in the ballpoint pen category.
These were my recommendations for pens in the ballpoint range. Personally I don’t much prefer the visual appearance of ballpoint pen inks, but if this is what you’re looking for, you can’t make the wrong choice with the above pens. But before you choose these, check out the other ballpoint pen options offered by some other manufacturers, given that you might have to 'fish around for more dollars' for some of them. But if you really can’t decide just yet, check out the ‘Gel’ pens below, which offer great writing for a somewhat less period of time than ballpoints, but are more visually pleasing!
Gel
1.     First and foremost, the best Gel pen I’ve ever written with; The Pilot Frixion! This is one pen you can never write badly with. And hey, even if you do, just erase it! This pen offers a great, consistently good writing experience and is truly a pen you can fall in love with. Add to that the ‘party trick’ like ability of this pen, the ‘erasablility’! Yep, you can actually erase what you’ve written, with the pens built-in eraser. So as long as you don’t use it on legal and official documents (which is strictly not recommended due to security issues), this is a good-looking, reliable pen that also writes in a way that makes your writing just plain nice, any-time, even though the ink is a bit on the ‘light’ side.
2.     The Pilot Hi-tech V point pens. I enjoy writing with these liquid-gel pens. They are consistent, smooth and come in several color options to choose from. The ink is bright and stands out, which means it looks good on the paper. But don’t drop it tip first or you’ll regret it.
3.     The Mitsubishi Uniball EYE. Wait, what? The company that makes your neighbor’s Outlander also makes pens? No. Seriously, no. In fact the Mitsubishi Pencil Company is COMPLETELY unrelated to the car company. Weird things happen. Nevertheless, the Mitsubishi Uniball EYE is good pen. There was a time when I was obsessed with the Uniball Eye. And rightly so. The Uni Eye is a nice looking pen which offers great writing and good reliability. It comes in many different colors and has a professional look, so this is a great choice for anyone looking for a nice pen. But again I warn you, do not drop it.
4.     Zebra Sarasa Clip. This pen comes in a variety of nib sizes and a different colors. It writes smoothly and consistently. (I’d like to add that my dog also likes to have this pen between his teeth. Yes, that’s what happened to mine. Recommended by my dog ‘n’ me!)
5.     Mitsubishi Uniball Signo DX. This pen comes in variety of nib sizes including some unbelievably fine nibs, like 0.38, and 0.28! Gorgeous pens. Like all the others, yes, they’re smooth and consistent.
There you go! My top five recommendations for Gel pens! These are pens I write with on a daily basis, and I can surely say they’re reliable, write smoothly, and have a good visual appearance on paper. But wait! These are not the only gel pens out there! There are tons more of options and the whole world is out there for you to choose from! Even brands like Parker, Cross and Faber-Castell make gel pens and even though they are a bit expensive, they are there if you like them. This issue of price brings me onto the biggest disadvantage of expensive gel pens. The duration of the refill. Gel pens don’t particularly last long. With a nib like 0.7 or 0.5 and daily writing (for example, at school or college) they will probably last about 2 weeks at most. That’s why I recommend you opt for a cheaper option like the ones above.  But for pens like the Frixion, you can buy refills for about half the price of a whole pen, which is nice option. Sadly though, as far as I know, you won’t find refills for the others in the list. But then again, they aren’t very expensive are they?   


Rollerball
(Note: The rollerball I refer to is traditional fountain ink in body type)
1.     The Parker Rollerball range. Almost all the Parker Pens are offered in rollerball, and in different nib sizes. It’s up to you here; all the rollerball refills are more or less the same.
2.     Pilot V-Ball Grip. A non-refillable rollerball pen by Pilot which writes neatly and looks nice.
3.     Pentel Energel Rollerball. Another good rollerball pen by Pentel which is in surprisingly, but deserving, good demand nowadays.
You really can’t choose the ‘Best 5 Rollerball Pens’. Most pen companies that make fountain pens also make accompanying rollerball pens. Rollerballs are great pens if you are someone who likes how fountain pen inks look but can’t give the care and love traditional fountain pens need.
Fountain Pens
1.     The Lamy Safari. My all-time favorite bargain fountain pen. If you are into fountain pens and want a good one, the Lamy Safari is a great choice. It writes great, quite reliable, and cheap enough to throw away if it breaks. But if you’re thrown off by the teenager looks check the next in line.
2.     The Parker Vector Metal. My first proper fountain pen, and one that I can recommend to anyone who wants a cheap, good looking, no-nonsense fountain pen. The professional metal build can look good anywhere, school or work, and gives the pen a valuable look.
There are not many great branded fountain pens that the ‘professional’ look that you can use anywhere. Then again, if they do have the ‘look’ then they don’t have the cheap ‘price’!
 So in this section you’ll have to do some searching and find out a proper pen for yourself, because it is quite hard to ‘pinpoint’ a perfect cheap pen that retains both value and quality.  

Conclusion

So there you go! I hope this will help you improve your handwriting and also help you chose a proper pen to reveal the inner you (who, maybe, actually had good handwriting). Please be sure to leave a comment below, add me on Google+, follow me on Twitter (@salsmanrobert) and subscribe to my Youtube channel. Also it would do to help out your friends and me by sharing this article! Thanks for reading and Happy Pen Picking!