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.

Truly...

... if God made you, He's in Love with me as Five for Fighting says.

A wonderful woman of refreshing faith I know, reminds me constantly that The Will of God will never send you where the Grace of God cannot keep you.

And you truly are part of that Grace extended to me, for just in the nick of time

He brought you to me.

Image courtesy of Shelby Nycole on Flickr.

Starry Starry Night

because his work paints beautiful images in my soul

because his life story plucks at the heartstrings and touches a chord

because of the understated beautiful melancholy of the music and words of this song

but Don McLean was right...

Perhaps we never will

Fur, thank you for reminding me how much I've always loved this piece.

Video courtesy of tdifatta on youtube.

on rain

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass

It's about learning to dance in the rain...

Image Courtesy of xmonstermaggie on Flickr

dream dream dream, when i need you...

I'd like to be married to you now.

Pleasethankyou.

Image Courtesy of Steena on Flicker.

rewind

What I would give

to have Soba noodles with you today


Image Courtesy of Sakichin on Flickr.

what a differance a year makes

random fact number 96

Treasury Tags remind me of exams.

Exams remind me of Hitman and how we would always wonder what we would hear if we could read minds, when the invigilator says "5 Minutes!"

We always figured it would be a collective "AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

*LoL*

Hitman if you're reading this, pat yourself on the back *grin*

Image Courtesy of viodyna on Flickr.

a dream is a wish your heart makes

when you're fast asleep

because...

even when you've been granted the serenity to accept the things you cannot change

sometimes, when all is said and done

the heart still yearns...

Dreaming with a Broken Heart

John Mayer

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

The waking up is the hardest part

You roll outta bed and down on your knees

And for the moment you can hardly breathe

Wondering was she really here?

Is she standing in my room?

No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

The giving up is the hardest part

She takes you in with her crying eyes

Then all at once you have to say goodbye

Wondering could you stay my love?

Will you wake up by my side?

No she can't, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

Now do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands

Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?

Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?

Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my , roses in my hands?

Would you get them if i did?

No you won't, 'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

The waking up is the hardest part

Image Courtesy of Deepa.Praveen on Flickr.

of pyjamas and things

I slipped into my pyjamas last night and curled into bed with my favourite pillow and a good book.

then the edges of my consciousness were awakened to a different time by the scent that wafted up from this old pair of PJ's.

they smelt of a different life and many many moons ago. the smelt of my apartment in Toronto, the bed I hardly slept in, the couch i spent far too many nights on, the kitchen and dining room I was proud of. they smelt of my first real taste of being a grown up.

a lot changed for me that year. i had a complete life earthquake. it was a year of many many firsts. in one flight, my whole world had turned on its head. i left my first grown up relationship (i came back to it and left it again many times that year which probably didn't help any), started my first job and started living alone in my own apartment in one fell swoop. i also decided to do it in a new city on a new continent.

*grin* I never was one for doing anything by halves.

it was the year i discovered a love for hiking and learnt to knit and sail. the year i fell in love with good photography. it was the year dance was rekindled in the form of Lindy hop. the year i realised who my friends really were. the year of devouring books by the harbour in the midst of a hot T.O. summer's day with a delicious ice- cream cone.

it was a growing year that i loved and abhorred in equal measure and i would never want to relive it that exact same way again.

it's perhaps the only year i harbour any regrets from. i was so caught up in trying to survive that i forgot to live. so intent on keeping afloat that i forgot i could swim. i spent too much time in bed, afraid of the world and not enough time living in it.

and though perhaps i could blame someone else for that, at the end of the day to use a ridiculously cliched phrase, no one is the captain of my own destiny but me. but you get through the darkness in your own time, in your own way.

No.

I wouldn't relive it the exact same way.

I would relive it and do it very very differently.

In the hopes of taking away more than I did the first time around.

Image courtesy of getthebubbles on Flickr.

on being "that girl"

as far back as I can remember, I have always been "that girl".

you know the one. the one with the starry look in her eyes everytime she met someone new. the one that was convinced that every man she dated was the one she would marry.

I've never been one to date "for the experience" or to "play the field". it was always done with the intention of forever. the wedding, the kids, the rest of the whole sha- bang... i guess that was always on the periphery but not the heart of the matter.

a lovely boy i used to date found this all a little strange. he dated because he liked someone without the thought of the possible future. he didn't get it when i said that as much as i didn't need to know the future now, i just needed to know that that sliver of possibility was there. it scared him a little and made me question my normalcy a lot.

but i think that somewhere in our heart of hearts, most girls have a part of them that is "that girl". it's in our genes, in the Disney we watched, the fairytales we were read, the hope we cradle.

i tried not to be "that girl". it ended in quite a few amusing.. shall we call them blips? amusing for me now, but not then. and definitely not amusing for the blips i think.

and then i came to terms with it.

it's ok that I am "that girl".

because he is and has always been "that boy"

*smile*

Image Courtesy of jesusroxslm on Flickr.

to you who may never read this

Dear Children- who- are- hopefully- in- our- future,

I have been toying with writing this for the longest time, but I was worried I would jinx it. Then I realised that jinxing it is not possible as it's all in God's hands.

I am about 15 weeks from marrying Baba (he has decided that is what you will call him, I'm not sure you have a choice in this matter. I on the other hand can't quite decide what you should call me yet. Apparently ibu will take you a while to say) and we're both quite excited.

I'm writing this because I'm not sure we will have you in our future as it's not for us to dictate, but I wanted you to know that in our decisions for our future, you already factor in.

In case I forget, I want you to remind me to tell you one day how Baba proposed, because it's a funny little story that I think you may appreciate.

If you're a girl, know that we decided on your name a sunny day in May when Baba and I were putt- putting around on a dinky motorbike in Koh Samui. I picked your name, whatever he says! He just agreed it was lovely.

If you're a boy, then the credit (or curses?) for your name go to him. He texted me one humid night in July when I was at a beach party and he was being the old man that he is at home. He had just read your name in a book called "Freakonomics" that forecasted popular names in the future. He was desperate that you have a "hip" name as unfortunately you are the product of two geeks.

I wanted you to know that you matter. Whether we ever have the privilege of meeting you. And that years before you even appeared, you were already loved.

Me x x

image courtesy of *Mama*Lola* on Flickr

To Ulanbataar with Love

Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say. And it does because I miss him. More so than normal because He's not just a phone call or a text message away.

He's off in a far off land that is but a concept to me, doing what he does best.

I guess even with the distance, you get used to being in touch and I feel strangely robbed of him despite knowing that it's only for a while. Despite never really having him here in the first place.

Last weekend was wonderful in the most obscure of ways. We did nothing of consequence but everything that mattered and it heralded a future filled with nothing, but everything to me. 

And to be without him in its wake leaves me feeling a little out of sorts.

For in a relationship like ours, without the contact, what are we? Little more than an invisible glittery string that stretches across the seas I think.

It reminds me that it's too easy to take his being "around" for granted. It reminds me of this, sappy though that may be.

i carry your heart with me

E.E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me
(i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it

(anywhere i go you go,my dear;

and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate

(for you are my fate,my sweet)

i want no world

(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root

and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky

of a tree called life;

which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart

(i carry it in my heart)

image courtesy of Lars F. Menzel on Flickr

for all the little things

that He does *smile*

because...

 unable to share this Ramadhan with me

He calls me each Sahur

and makes me happier than I ever imagined I could be

Image courtesy of  blueberrymom on Flickr.

random fact number 632

She loves jelly.

She thinks it is one of the best types of comfort food.

The colours make her smile.

The texture makes her giggle.

And it makes her tummy happy.

So there *grin*

Image courtesy of Keith Kerr on Flickr.

a better man

so I was reading today about someone's unrequited love. you know the one. most of us have one of them, the one you feel got away either because things just didn't work out the way you planned or just because you never got around to saying anything.

i used to have one of them. i said goodbye to him a while ago. because i realised there was a difference between what i wanted to see and what was actually there.

but this post really isn't about him. it's about a far better man.

throughout the course of the past few days or so i've had moments when it just randomly enters my mind that I love this better man. and it's a strange, humbling, heart warming moment everytime it happens.

the man in my past chose to betray my trust. he then came back, seeking my forgiveness. i took him back. his reasons for his betrayal were manifold, i forgave him because i loved him still and i made the excuses i had to in order to justify my reaction. now looking back, i see that there is a reason an excuse is an excuse.

he blamed it on the distance. said he was feeling down and lonesome and needed the company. i'm not even sure he apologised. i think he just made excuses.

in the months after, he got angry that I wasn't over it, upset that I found it hard to trust him, didn't do much to ease my soul into trusting him again and the biggest kicker of them all, he eventually left because he could not cope with the guilt he felt having betrayed me in the first place.

*LOL* What a load of baloney! and i fell for it too. hook, line and sinker.

this better man though, he's different in the most wonderful of ways. he thought long and hard before we even got together if he could deal with me being a plane ride away. when he finally realised that me a plane ride away was better than no me at all, he made it very clear that he would find it ridiculously difficult. it was a very practical thing to say in a moment supposed to be rose tinted, but now i realise it is the essence of what makes him better.

he struggles with this distance, yet through it all i see that he's determined to persevere. he doesn't blame it for any of the problems that crop up, but rather he tries to find ways to make it work in spite of the distance. because he is a better man.

he never said it was do- able, he simply said he would try. he never said he was ok with it, never pretended it was a breeze, he simply acknowledged it was a problem and moved on. because he is a better man.

Resoundingly, I can say that there is no other. there is no "one who got away". there are no "what if's". not for me. not anymore.

it wasn't a moment in a field full of daisies, there was no bicycle built for two. it was not the summer solstice. But it was perfect in it's own awkward, quintessentially He way.

I have been blessed with a better man. and i could not ask for more.

Image courtesy of ccurtiz on Flickr.

the truth is...

... that i am barely through without you.

... and i need the next 25 weekends to fly

... February please come soon.

Image courtesy of flavita.v on Flickr.

a view from the dumps

She tries very hard to look at things on the bright side. To find the silver lining in everything. She is conscious of how much a positive mental attitude helps. She's generally quite good at this.

But the truth is she is prone to bouts of depression. As is much of her family. Perhaps more than the asthma or the eczema, it's the hereditary depression that bothers her.

She wasn't always quite so susceptible or at least no more so than the average Joe. But three summers ago she started to feel the tremors that would lead to a full blown life earthquake that lasted about a year. Two summers ago was when it was at its worst.

That summer, what most people don't know and didn't see, were the hours upon hours she spent in her bed. Unable to get up. Unable to eat. Unable to really do much. Watching hours and hours of Charmed and Poirot, Friends and Family Guy, just to get through the day. She managed to get out of bed about once a week to attend a Lindy class because that was the only thing she could deal with that involved being around people. She spent a small fortune on phone calls to friends in far flung corners of the world because they gave her the light she couldn't see for herself. She cried. Every single day. For hours.

But she got better with time. She is proud that she never resorted to the drugs to make it better. Thankful that she had angels in her life to help lift her up. Grateful that she found it within herself to make it through.

She went from crying everyday. To once a week. To once a month. And now it's once every so often.

But she hates that it happens even once every so often. That once in a while she visits the dumps without even meaning to or even knowing how she got there.

She needs to start with the crazy exercise routine again she thinks. She could do with losing the weight and the endorphins are always welcome.

Bring on the treadmill.

asylum

On days like this I would like to climb into a box and stay there.

I am exhausted.

I should not have to defend or feel bad for crying. I am not made of steel. I have a heart and occasionally it hurts. and when it does it should be allowed to grieve. perhaps what I cry about doesn't make sense to you. but it doesn't have to. you're not walking the road i'm walking, you're not feeling the things i'm feeling, you're not me.

I am tired.

of being the apparently horrid ungrateful child. you have expectations of me that i struggle to meet. i feel inadequate when i can't meet them. when i say i don't know and leave the decision to you, it's not code for anything else. I genuinely don't know. i should not then be at the receiving end of your wrath for not knowing. it's not being recalcitant. it's not because i'm being difficult. it's because i feel out of my depth and would like you help. i know however that I get frustrated and that it shows and for that i am so very truly sorry.

but i am worn out.

i am pooped.

i am beat.

bushed.

done in.

and i would like to climb into a box and stay there.

Image courtesy of Centre for International Education on Flickr.

at last...

... i begin to see, just how it happens that one love could last a lifetime.

because with you, when it gets all difficult and grumpifying,

the overriding thought isn't resentment

it isn't helplessness

it isn't anger

it's this...

it's that this too shall pass

it's a certainty that things will be ok

a conviction that you will stay

Truly...

grow old with me...

with you i honestly see

that the best is yet to be

image courtesy of cosairstw on Flickr.

a million little pieces

she has had her fair share of heart struggles this girl. they have almost always had to do with boys.

but this heart struggle is different. it has nothing to do with boys, but it goes to the very centre of her being.

and she is scared this girl. scared in a way she only remembers being once before. because this is the very essence of her.

the research terrifies her more and more. she wonders if she has said goodbye to something without even knowing. without even appreciating it. she wonders if she was to blame in some way.

and she feels helpless. completely and utterly useless. she has no plan. she doesn't understand. all she can do it sit here and be scared.

so no, there are no pretty pictures to this post. because with what she saw today her heart broke.

and now all she sees are the million little pieces.

Random fact number 317

She likes vanilla in her tea

She also hopes that she acts like summer and walks like rain

but that's another fact

and another post :)

Image courtesy of Simon Goldenberg on Flickr.

2 days a month

...

she gets despondent and paranoid

she over thinks things

she frets and cries

...

this is her lot, being a woman, and it's ok

but she does wonder

as it's the same recurring issues these two days a month

are they issues that she buries the remaining 28 days

or phantom issues that she imagines into place

to keep the grey thoughts company

for those 2 days a month

What if...

What if we stop having a ball?

What if the paint chips from the wall?

What if there's always cups in the sink?

What if I'm not what you think I am?

What if I fall further than you?

What if you dream of somebody new?

What if I never let you win, chase you with a rolling pin?

Well what if I do?

I am giving up on making passes

and I am giving up on half empty glassess

and I am giving up on greener grasses.

I am giving up.

What if our baby comes home after nine?

What it your eyes close before mine?

What if you lose yourself sometimes?

Then I'll be the one to find you Safe in my heart.

I am giving up on making passes

and I am giving up on half empty glassess

and I am giving up on greener grasses. I am giving up.
I am giving up.
I am giving up.

I am giving up on greener grasses. I am giving up for you.
I am giving up for you.
I am giving up

Giving Up
Ingrid Michaelson

the many facets

Light hits a surface and reflects at different angles.

Perhaps this is a lot like Love.


For is there more Love...

... in letting your mask fall and knowing that you can ask for help from that one person when you're drowning?

or

... in realising that watching someone you love flounder is painful and scary and so choosing to keep your drowning to yourself?


Maybe there's not a lot between them.

Maybe it's just Love reflecting.


Photo courtesy of Karin Elizabeth on Flickr.

I CRAVE

MERINGUE

crispy on the outside
gooey marshmallowy goodness on the inside

*slurp*

i WANT!

Photo courtesy of PMT Cupcakes on Flickr.

yet another little piece

as i start to let go of this lifetime

piece by piece

i am reminded everyday

of the things i will leave behind

and i know i will yearn

for the beauty in these Brunei skies


Photo Courtesy of Jasmine Wong.

on being daddy's girl

There is a story that people tell me. Apparently when I was born, Abah took me out into the garden, held me out to the sky and said that everything could be taken away from him but this.

It's a notion that appeals to the melodrama in me. Whether it's true or not, it doesn't really matter I suppose because it's a sentiment that Abah has echoed throughout my life.

We fight. We're similar in that we have strong opinions, stubborn and proud. But he's always hated seeing me cry and I remember many moments in my childhood when he would gather me in his arms after yelling at me and remind me that he only got upset because he loved me. And in those arms, I knew I was safe and I knew that his love was there to stay.

I remember when he went away to study and how I used to climb into the wardrobe where all his clothes were kept when I missed him. Just to pretend that he was around. The songs I made up for him that Mama would record and send over for him to listen to, because phone calls were just too expensive.

And how now, well into my 20's, he's still the first person I call when I'm scared and I need saving.

I came home a few days ago and found Abah asleep on the couch as he is most evenings. I realised that when i leave, I will miss seeing him asleep on the couch. I realised that soon Abah really cannot be the first man in my life.

I wonder how much longer I'm allowed to be Daddy's girl. And how I can even come close to letting him know just how much he means to me.

Photo courtesy of 62Lofu on Flickr.

the musketeers

There were once five little girls.

Many had known each other since they were in single digits. They had been to each other's 9th birthday parties. Those were the days of games of "Police and thief" in the school court yard, losing your front teeth, fairy dresses.

These then gave way to first crushes, training bras, first boyfriends.

They formed a circle these little girls. They were really not so little anymore. They called themselves the musketeers. They cheated in physics tests, fantasised about Prince William and Will Smith, picked up the pieces of each other's broken hearts.

Then school ended and they had to go.

Between them, there were three continents and millions of miles. And slowly these little girls grew up.

Now, ten years on. We see five beautiful, charming, capable young women where the five little girls used to stand.

Some are married, some are engaged, one is even expecting a little one of her own.

But when they are together, perhaps they will always just be five little girls...

Image courtesy of cesphoto on Flickr.

because losers don't necessarily weep

lost

Pronunciation: \ˈlȯst\
Function: adjective
Etymology: past participle of lose
Date: 15th century

1: not made use of, won, or claimed
2 a: no longer possessed b: no longer known
3: ruined or destroyed physically or morally
4: taken away or beyond reach or attainment
5 a: unable to find the way b: no longer visible c: lacking assurance or self-confidence

Perhaps for something to be lost to you, it also denotes a sense of wanting to find it.

It is for this reason that Lost One will no longer be called that in this blog. He will simply be known as Nomad if at all he ever appears here again. For that is no more than merely descriptive of what he is.

In his aftermath, she was angry, lost, hurt.

She very slowly became comfortable with the new circumstances. She still however wondered how he was occasionally and pondered if she would ever have him back in her life. In a different capacity, but back. She wondered how it would happen and how she would react to it if it ever did happen.

And now, with another lifetime looming in her horizon. She's realised that she's stopped looking.

He was lost one to her at some point. Because he was the one she lost. Because he was the one that she, at that point, felt had gotten away. Because she felt that he was lost in life, didn't know what he wanted from it.

But he's not lost to her anymore, because she has lost interest in finding him... *smile*

Image courtesy of jez_zimbo on Flickr.

the ties that bind

I have often wondered what the big deal was with engagement rings. Sure I get that being engaged is a big thing. But is the ring a part of that?

Perhaps now I get it.

It's a tie that binds. It's a solid reminder of the promises that you have made. A physical manifestation of the future that awaits.

It says.. I'm serious about this, I'm serious about wanting you in my life.

It whispers... Grow Old with Me. The Best is Yet to Be...

Image courtesy of MHA Photography/ Michele on Flickr.

Dendang Perantau

The title of this post is also the title of my mother's favourite Hari Raya song. It translates loosely to "Traveller's Song". With a sense of melancholy, the singer talks of things and people missed and gone, on this day of festivity.

For those unacquainted to Malay Muslim culture. Hari Raya Aidilfitri is the occasion by which Muslims celebrate the end of the fasting month. For a Malay child growing up in a Malay country this means new clothes, yummy food, lots of friends and family, fireworks, green packets filled with money and generally a lot of the best things in life. It's a time of celebration.

As a child with this perception of Raya, I always found it strange that Mama chose this sad song in such festive times.

Growing up, this knowledge gave me some small insight into the woman my mother was when she wasn't busy being mother, wife, daughter, employee and all the million other hats that she dons.

As an (dare I say it) adult. I perhaps now understand her song choice. This Raya, may prove to be my last in this incarnation of me. A prospect I look forward to with much joy, but, truth be told a little sadness. For in leaving this part of me I leave perhaps the last vestiges of childhood. But this is the subject matter of another post and for another time.

Faced with the prospect, that after this Raya, the lyrics of Dendang Perantau may once again apply to me, this time permanently, has made the song more poignant.

That this song will always remind me of her. The woman she is, that eludes me in so many ways as her child. The bitter sweetness of the possibility of future Raya's away from the ones who love you and formed you. That one day she will be gone and how this brings me to tears even now. That when that happens, I can think of no one else I want at my side other than He.

Image courtesy of djflowerz on Flickr.

grumps grumps

I don't get people who don't use their BLINKING indicators!

Pun fully intended

Seriously, those knobs by the side of your steering wheel are not purely decorative

*exasperated sigh*

Photo courtesy of biopot on Flickr.

and I can hardly wait

Cause it's you and me and all other people
with nothing to do
nothing to prove
and it's you and me and all other people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

You and Me
Lifehouse

my dope

The BFG once said to me that music is my dope. And he was right. It's my dope, my Aspirin and my Achilles heel. It's everything. Because music makes me feel.

In the lowest of my lows, Big Band music picks me up. Perhaps it reminds me of nights spent in a shabby Irish bar, jitterbugging the night away. When the cares were left at the doorway, stuffed deep into my snow boots. When despite the dark and the dreary, I managed to dream with my feet. It was only those nights dancing that year that I allowed myself to dream.

Randomly it was also that period of my life that I listened to music the least. For the simple reason that it was too painful. Too many songs on the radio were, and still are, about love and its loss. It was depressing and my obsession with lyrics made it hard not to personalise what I heard. So I stopped.

It was also around then too that I stopped singing. Or rather, trying to sing. I go through life with the most random collection of songs passing through my head. And very often it makes an appearance in my physical world. Much to the chagrin of others, I might add *smirk*. Crease worried when I didn't sing. I seem to recollect a conversation with her one summer to that effect. She said she was happy because I was singing in the shower again *smile*. It told her that I saw light at the end of the tunnel again.

The loneliest and happiest moments of my soul correlate directly to the absence and presence of music respectively. It lifts, it drags, it turns cartwheels with my heart. So perhaps music isn't just the food of love, but rather the sustenance of life.

Play on.

Image courtesy of Llina S. on Flickr.

for this is love

"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle in your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."- From When Harry Met Sally

Image Courtesy of |ash| on Flickr.

in the looking glass

it now blares out at her undeniably that she has abandonment issues

Image courtesy of |ash| on Flickr.

Sans

She kids herself by saying that the reason for this melancholy is the post holiday blues. But really she knows better.

The fact is this, He makes her smile. And being without him is like having an ice cream sundae without the cherry. You still enjoy the ice cream. You don’t need the cherry. It just tops it off nicely.

She has done this before, but somehow this time is just that little bit different and this difference is bemusing her no end.

Because the difference is that she knows they have a million tomorrows, but they don’t have today. It is the sweetest, most charming, realization that is making this, that much harder. The perfect oxymoron.

She was a little concerned a few weeks ago about how it would be spending day in day out with him. Their relationship was based on being apart. Prior to getting together they had in fact spent the equivalent of about half a day alone in each other’s company. She worried about the dynamics of it all. She wondered if being able to bounce off each other in company and being able to have the funniest, most heartfelt online chats would transcend.

She has since learnt since then that being with him was, from the very beginning, strangely natural and so very easy. She is obstinate, paranoid, and occasionally unreasonable. She is impatient, hot tempered and occasionally caustic. She is certainly far from perfect. It sparks, not because she thinks He’s perfect but rather because she likes that He isn’t. She likes his idiosyncrasies and that in these idiosyncrasies He is perfect, if only for her.

And this time it’s harder because of the promise He holds. Because this time the promise is tangible, but still just barely out of her reach. Because despite being more in control of the situation she can’t make tomorrow come any quicker. As Harry said "when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible".

So no, it’s not the post holiday blues. It’s just ice cream sans cherries.

Image courtesy of photomato on Flickr.

writer's block

She is feeling...

a little melancholic

a lot out of sorts

perhaps it's a crazy version of the post holiday blues

as Dido puts it... I still have sand in my shoes....

Image courtesy of Terrible76 on Flickr.

on empty beach benches

RINDU!

You owe me a sunset Mister

and some ice cream...

*smile*

Image courtesy of juga4ka on Flickr.

because because because because because

because of the wonderful things He does


*smile*


because He never says "I Love You Too"


because with him the response is never an afterthought


He says something else


and that...


is my delicious little secret


*big smiles*


Image courtesy of AquaAmber on Flickr.

Mettle

It's going to be a spectacular explosion.

And not of the pretty firework variety.

Nauseous. Anxious. Strangely mentally calm.

Bring it.

For it is in these moments that you realise the cloth you are cut from.


Image courtesy of Paolo Mossino on Flickr.

he needs to be...

"he needs to be Big enough so you can both take cover under his coat when it rains.
Small enough for you to wrap your arms almost around.
Strong enough to restrain you from leaving too easily.
Gentle enough to know when to leave you alone.
and Man enough to know when to give you his hand."

the above is an exerpt from "The Datin Diaries" a now defunct blog I used to read. The Datin blogs no more which is a shame as her entries were thought provoking, heartfelt and well written. It's not often a blog with no gimmicks, of a random stranger, keeps me coming back for more. Some of her entries are reproduced in Notes from Venus.

The Datin's right. That's all he really needs to be.

Image courtesy of rebecca whitney on Flickr.

...

* big giant heavy sigh*

that word

She thinks that the word “Love” is bandied about too easily. One only has to watch an episode on American Idol to hear it umpteenth times. She’s no superstar so she does not know how they feel about their fans but seriously, LOVE?

It’s such a big, little, word isn’t it?

Not to say that she does not love easily. In some cases she does. Very easily and very quickly. Perhaps it comes from having family constantly separated by the big blue sea. When she sees them, she loves them, in the space of a heartbeat almost. Because she knows that if she doesn’t fall in love with them now, the next opportunity may be a squagillion light years away.

But then to say those words. To say “I Love You”, it’s a big thing to her. It’s not something to be thrown about. It’s not “luvya” or “love ya” or any other derivation. It’s those three words. In Malay “bulat bulat”. Literally meaning roundly, actually in context meaning unequivocally I suppose.

With some people she knows it instantly, and she tells them then and there. She’s not really one that waits for tomorrow, there’s no promise it’ll arrive. But with others she has taken her time, thought about if she meant it, before saying it, if ever.

Because it’s the lightest but the heaviest thing to say. It carries such resonance, so many unspoken vows.

It denotes a promise, a steadfastness of belief, an actual- honest to god- will defend with my last breath- feeling. It’s a pledge to stay, to try, to hang on for dear life, to see it through. An oath to be honest, to be true, to be vulnerable. To let go, to have faith, to aid that faith in every way you can.

So no, she does not bandy it around. She has meant it, each and every time she has said it. And she is proud of that.

Image courtesy of Hawee Ta3kees on Flickr.

in a steaming mug of tea

Ali my love,

It’s been over two years now.

And I still think of you with every cup of tea I make. Because I remember you coming over to ours on Warwick Street and drinking jugs of the stuff. This was when you decided it was scandalous that I hadn’t been to Durham and we made plans to go that very week.

I remember the last time I saw you up and about. We watched the then new Harry Potter film. It was one of my last few nights in the Toon. I needed to rush off straight after to catch the RSC doing a Midsummer Night's Dream at the Theatre Royal. There was a sense of urgency which I should have recognised in your embrace that night. You were never one to make a big deal of things. I should’ve known.

At what point do I take your number off my phone, your name from my birthday calendar and your email address from my book?

I miss you…

Photo courtesy of Yoshiko314 on Flickr.

the things that matter

She realises that she has become complacent. The danger of living in this country is that it is so easy to become apathetic towards the world at large.

In her university years she did many little things. She bought fair trade and the big issue, she gave to charity regularly, spent at least a week a year if not more helping out good causes, the list goes on. She was not an apathetic student. She is shamed to admit that now the only vestige of this left is that she doesn't eat shark's fin soup and doesn't buy ivory.

She is in a job she generally enjoys. It keeps the spirits up and the soul happy but she has realised that though the soul thrives, it doesn't grow.

She's wanted to do what she does now since she was eight. She's often wondered what comes next now that she's got here. She thinks she may have always known but not seen the answer to that question.

There may be a move in the not too distant future. Perhaps she should take that as an opportunity to find something less self serving. She's not altruistic, there's still that precious little girl in her dreams who she has to clothe, feed and read bedtime stories to.

But she does need to return to a life that reaches further than this. She needs to give back, she needs for this life to matter.

i'm looking for baggage...

the course of your life can change with one simple action. similarly your outlook on life i suppose can change with a gesture, a person, a moment.

i don't know one person in their mid twenties without baggage. some travel lighter than others, but ultimately we all have baggage.

my heaviest items are anxiety and insecurity. i know where it started, but perhaps my natural temperament only exacerbated the situation. The BFG says I have this need to be everything to everyone, I deny his triumphant proclamation vehemently, but perhaps it's true that I protest too much.

for almost as long as I remember, I have tried to give more than what is expected. with this comes the natural desire to preempt a request before it's even formulated. it kept me one step ahead.

but i remember a relationship where i just couldn't preempt. looking back, it was so very unfair. he expected me to know what he wanted, even before he knew he wanted it. the lasting memory I have of this, is the many times when he would ask me to keep him company a little longer, only to then have to deal with the fall out when he decided that I had over stayed my welcome.

this to- ing and fro- ing left me ridiculously anxious and insecure. i constantly felt like i was treading on egg shells. and i think in many ways I have been ever since. i constantly get hyper- sensitive and pick up discomfort when there isn't any. because previously such vibes in the air normally preceded the man in question wanting to walk out on me.

and logically i know it's ridiculous to figure that everyone will expect me to preempt them. and it's silly to be anxious and insecure when I detect even the slightest change in someone's rhythms.

it must be infuriating to see it from the other end.

i need to somehow trust again that just because one can change one's mind in a heartbeat, doesn't mean that one will. and even if one does, i need to trust that I don't need to have foreseen it.

perhaps i am simply looking for baggage that matches mine...


Image courtesy of Jonnyfez on Flickr.

the sucky thing about being grown up

is not having someone fuss over you when you're ill.

and having to drive yourself to the doctor

*wrinkles nose in distaste*

God bless my Mummy for still trying to.

Image courtesy of sesame ellis on Flickr.

feh

Today I don't want to :-

tip toe around oversized ego's

speak to clients who think they own your ass because they pay you

be considerate

be thoughtful

smile because it keeps the social fabric intact

hold my tongue

keep up pretences

Today I want to crawl into a little box and be grumpy because that's how i feel

Picture courtesy of whisKAz on Flickr.

what makes her reel

She realises that she doesn't deal with disappointment well. In fact that is perhaps an understatement. She in fact deals with it badly. It often reduces her to tears.

She also realises that this is really not a good thing.

It's strange when you think of it, because she has taken some fairly hard knocks and she bounces back from them. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, but she always bounces back.

She realises however that the ones she tends to take the worst almost always involve her significant other. With her friends she thinks she is more forgiving and so she is disappointed less.

She wonders why this is so. She believes it is symptomatic of a deeper more fundamental fear. She just wishes she knew what it was....

She thinks it might be linked to a fear of abandonment because she takes partings very badly too.

She thinks she needs a shrink.

Photo courtesy of DaizyB on Flickr.