Apologise

Lyrics speak to me, for the simple reason that they say what you feel in beautiful beautiful ways.

Lately I have been dreaming, I always do. It tells me that my soul is ok. I worry when I do not. 

In my dreams of late, people from my past pop up in unusual places and situations. Last night it was a dream of Hitman and bumping into him at my friend's (who has superhero powers) wedding. He was a friend of the bride. I miss you Hitman. Pat your self on the back for me *grin*

But, I digress. There is one character that appears in my dreams every so often. The dreamer in me wants to believe that this happens when we both feel the loss of that friendship. The realist in me realises that it's probably just me and the fact that grudges are not my natural state of being.

There was a time when this song was indeed true of this relationship of mine. I did love this person with a fire red and it did turn blue. And no I would not take another chance, take a fall, take a shot for you. No longer, not any more. It really is too late to apologise.

Apologise or not though, I forgive you. As Ghandi once said- If we practice and eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, soon the whole world will be blind and toothless. The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is an attribute of the Strong.

So really, there is no shame in saying it would be nice to one day, once again, be able to take a fall for you. There is no shame in saying I miss you.

Inspired

Now I know that God gives us all different talents and strengths. I know I have been blessed with many abilities. And I am thankful.

But really, do some people have to be so freaking musically talented?! It really gets my goat and makes me want to kick them!

I have to work really really hard at being able to play any musical instrument and even then it's not brilliant, just good. It's not talent, it's passable.

I can't help but feel that much music these days is rather uninspired. It now normally relies on the lyrics to make or break the song. 

I have to admit, that is why I initially loved Coldplay's Viva la Vida, it was the lyrics. It was when they sang "I know Saint Peter won't call my name". It was the rush of heady, rebellious, me- against- the- world- and- i- don't- give- a- crap.

But then I didn't know it could sound like this...

This... is truly inspired...

back and melancholy

She is back to this virtual world this girl. She has been absent for a rather long time.

Funny how in her moments of melancholy she finds herself back to the writing. This must be a hard blog to read.

It has been a good few months. She will tell all in the posts to come. She is indeed very blessed. 

But at the moment she feels like the black and white parts of a picture accented in red if that makes any sense to anyone else at all. Like a Gaugin, somehow sombre in vivid technicolour.

But for now suffice to say, she is feeling melancholic, wondering why, wondering how, wondering, wondering wondering....

Image courtesy of SayDirect on Flickr.

all my bags are (not quite) packed

... and i'm (not quite) ready to go

Today I started packing. 

A little anal I know as the move is 10 weeks away. But the elves that Santa is lending me to help me move are leaving in approximately 3 weeks and seeing as how I don't know how much stuff is moving with me I thought I should make full use of the said elves.

and as I thought of packing, suddenly the magnitude of what I am doing HIT me.

I do not know how to pack for this move. i lived away for almost a decade and never had a problem. some moves were more bitter than others. leaving England was painful to say the very least. but none before this one has had quite this much finality. it is a somewhat edifying thought that mum and dad are not turning my room into a home gym, that they're not taking down the photographs and boxing away the trophies. that they will keep this room mine. that there will always be room here for me.

but it doesn't change the fact that below the surface, this move is a resounding close to life as i know it. i don't mourn it's passing. i am excited beyond measure for the start of the new chapter and i know from the very core of me that i have chosen the right man to keep me company on this journey. but i mourn all that i leave behind. or more accurately, who i leave behind.

i am rubbish at goodbyes. i don't know how to to them without a stuffed up nose, red eyes and a tear stained face. and this will be one giant goodbye won't it?

yes yes i know that it's only two hours flight away, and the internet is great and all that malarkey, but really, let's not ease the blow. i am leaving everything that has been a constant in this nomadic life of mine. and it was that constant that made it a little bit easier. it's like that bit from my favourite Donne poem

If they be two, they are two so

As stiff twin compasses are two;

Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show

To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,

Yet, when the other far doth roam,

It leans and hearkens after it,

And grows erect, as that comes home.

A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning

John Donne

i don't know how to leave Mum and Dad. i don't know how to cope with knowing that i will never live under the same roof as them anymore. i don't know how to deal with the fact that should something happen, i will not be there. i will instead be at the mercy of aeroplane schedules. can i really make sure they're ok from that distance? is it normal to feel like you're breaking a promise you made to them at birth? the promise that you would be there for them when they're old and grey, that you would make sure that they're ok?

there's that story about the person with the patchwork heart. you know the one. about the person who gave pieces of his heart to people that he met. well it's always felt a little like that for me. now more so than ever. because the pieces of my heart will definitely be separated by the seas.

like i said, i'm rubbish at goodbyes.

image courtesy of mainemomma2007 on Flickr.

*hyperventilate*

My To- Do List is 3 and a half pages long...

and I have 70 days...

and 6 kg to lose...

*gulp*

oh i wish i were a tai tai with chopsticks in my hair?

NB:- For the non- asian lingo people out there a "tai tai" is a stereotypical rich chinese lady of leisure :)

Image Courtesy of { Karen } on Flickr.