Okay, this will be my first prompt blogging recommended by WordPress after I changed to Jetpack. I am glad that something inspiring will help me spark my spirit to write. Hence here it goes.
1. My iPhone: Let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t these days? Forget a Galaxy phone, which I hate simply because it’s not user-friendly, as I have been an iPhone user since its genesis. All my information is in my palm: from the bank account to books on hold in an online public library to my shopping cart on Pandora.
2. My Kindle (3rd generation): I am an ardent Kindle reader. Physical books may have that quaint charm that makes readers look intellectually distinguished from the mass. Still, Kindle is much more convenient to read in the dark, especially in bed, on the subway, on the bus, and almost everywhere. With my weakened eyesight, Kindle has been kinder than an actual book. Besides, I can always move from one reading to another, depending on my mood.
3. My traveler’s notebook: I like writing short entries in my journal as well as jotting down my mind notes and reading points, so it is my writing companion I carry about. Of all the traveler’s notebooks, my favorite is Midori Traveler’s Notebook because of its smooth suede-like cover and slim size fit in my hand.
I still want to see the world even if it has hurt my heart even it’s full of the imperfect; The Sky, the Sea under the Sun The Moon, the Stars at Night Blue, Green, sparkling, iridescent- I still want to see the beauty if given one more chance to see it and not to lose it with a promise to keep the beauty in my eyes, even if the world still hurts me even if it will always be imperfect.
I am not a baby anymore than you are a girl never; The hours, minutes, seconds we have traveled together How could we have known where we would be now when I see you in my eyes And me in your glass palace reflecting the liquid dreams forming the shapes of memories? The shadows of melancholy cast upon the liquid eyes filled with emerald dreams Will be cleared away soon When your lucky star finds you and the whole universe conspires to rebel against the malice of gods.
When Queen Elizabeth II left this world, she left the palace door open from upstairs and downstairs. And it’s not a Downtown Abby because it’s not a palace, and we are talking about King, Queen’s Consort, Prince and Princess, Duke and Dutches, and the people who serve them of all levels. Indeed, the Royals do not manage their affairs without their helpers. This is a book about those helpers, especially the upper ranks called “Courtiers,” who have existed since the days of yore. Glamorous and fanciful as they may sound, the courtiers are the royal equivalent of assistants and secretaries in bureaucratic and industrial organizations. This book is about these helpers who deserve to be cast spotlights for their physical and mental hard work.
Working with the royals, as it were, is not much different from working with lawyers or any corporate heads or any paying masters who are at the helm of your livelihood in the real world. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of your bosses for fear of rage-firing or losing their favor for your financial security, which will affect your and your family’s welfare. When I learned that King Charles III sacked his long-term employees in Clarance House who had been loyal in their service to him and his family before the coronation, I was immediately on the side of the forlorn subjects whose lives were now upended with the loss of their steady income. Indeed, some of them might have received compensation that would give them enough not to worry about their future. Still, losing a job is undoubtedly a blow to mental equanimity, let alone material necessities. According to the narrative, the royal temper is a legacy of Elizabeth I to his son Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex. Harry is notorious for his tempestuous tendencies that have made the courtiers disaffected and displeased with the person. His precarious and unpredictable behaviors and inconsiderate remarks towards people who assist him contribute to the criticism of his wife Megan, who is also infamous for arrogant and unthoughtful deportment. The couple might have won the public’s sympathy, not in the least thanks to the power of Oprah, who took them under her aegis against the racist royal family and the British general, who discriminated against Megan for her being “exotic.” Stephen King once said that if you want to know what kind of person they are, you must go backstage with them. I am not hell-bent on slandering the duke and dutchess. Still, it will be an injustice, discrimination even, to forego or ignore what the courtiers witness and think about the famous glittering couple who has become one of the most scintillating Tinsletown couples in the world.
It seems to me that this book wants to give a fair chance to the people who rendered their services to these whimsical and capricious royal families, given that the courtiers have become targets of criticism for discrimination against Harry and Megan. Charles’s infamous temper is comparingly forgivable because that’s what kings and queens have been like, as it is their blood-blood characteristic. But Harry is a proud prince who champions equality on the one hand and hypocrisy on the other hand. If he really cares about his wife’s privacy and respectful treatment against racial discrimination that the couple so always clamoursuly voices about, then they should also equally care about those of the people who work for and under them, no matter how different opinions they may have. People who believe Harry and Megan deserve sympathy should look closely around them because there should be those who really deserve sympathy and understanding in situations far worse than the rich and famous duke and dutchess. In light of the above, I like reading this book that draws the curtains behind the royal stages where the courtiers busy themselves pleasing the spoiled royals. By the way, Princes William and Harry lounge around the palace in flip-flops and treat their guests or interview their employees at interviews to tea in a nondescript mug, not a royal china teacup.
No pain, no gain! Who said that? What a sadist! Break the heart, what do you want? Blow the spirit, does it come again? Some may regenerate like an inveterate clown when some can’t take it with the heartstrings pulled tweaked, pinched, and torn Till their souls refuse to stay besieged, assaulted within. So, never say once again Pain is s necessary gambit with stacks of aces hidden because it simply isn’t but a swaggering fiddlestick.
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