Skywalker

Every word is true, and it is just as my heart had spoken. We are soulmates.

 

"We appreciate the beauty of life. The beauty of falling in love. The beauty of growing stronger after each lesson.

 The beauty of the heart." 

Every word is true. And I cry because my heart is out there so plain with you, because at last I've found someone who understands.

What a meaningful start to the new year, and a precursor of what we aim still to be.

I could imagine her on her wedding day, a true princess in a fairytale of white tulle and golden trimmings.

Sunlight in her hair, stars in her eyes.

And I just want to see you married happily ever after. Never cheated on again.

 

In the year before this she experienced "the miracle of finding, knowing and loving" [herself]".

I had a great many defining moments; but only today did I find the summary of my 2011 - learning to be a bigger person.

 I learnt to accept defeat gracefully, because grace is what makes a woman;

to extend forgiveness to those who did not ask for it, because I saw how past years of grudgery had embittered my insides.

To hold my peace where a younger me would have made destruction of disorder,

to listen to poison and know it for just that, nothing more;

to fall flat on my rump and then look upward and onward,

and laugh,

and love.

As I go through this life, I realise there is a fair proportion (not too common, but not too scarce either) of people like me, web-thinkers who connect the dots without trying. Kindred spirits, or those of "my world".

Even though we are little more than a week into the year, already profound moments have found their way in to beautify my life by that much.

What is it about writing that is more enduring than identical words expressed in speech? Is it just that it can be read again and again while the  most  meaningful words spoken tend not to occur exactly as they did last, if ever again?

This year will be significant, I feel it.

Away from my homeland I am free to eat only what I please, spend time according to my needs, and furnish my room as I wish.

 

In just my first semester, there have been so many little things which mattered to me, that I never had at home.

A fruit bowl. Wall hangings. Home-baked muffins. Someone who asked "How was your day?"

White furniture. Warm lighting. Pretty things everywhere I looked.

And I know I am partially indulging in a lost adolescence; my own swallowed by angst and mistrust.

 

 It may seem delayed,

but I am going to laugh, 

 

and have a good time,

   

and feel pretty. 

It may seem strange, but I am both girl frivolous at last, and at the same time, woman growing wise in heart. 

My life philosophy;

to shortchange

.

Oh this is youth, and how glad I am to be living it!

Ps. All photos are original, and personal favourites.

It's the Life in You That Presses On

Rather strange, it is. To be called an average girl just because I enjoy the things other girls do, because I can.

The irony is I remember being unable to do just this; remember being too afraid and self-restrained. You would not have called me the average girl then, I was a far cry from her. Inside I felt so pale and raging hot in turns; I felt insignificant and raged against it.

Only now I've grown into feeling special and loved; and  you dare call me ordinary? I laugh at that, laugh because you don't know a thing about me.

Time is too slow for those who wait,

Too swift for those who fear,

Too long for those who grieve,

Too short for those who rejoice.

But for those who love, time is eternity.

- Henry Van Dyke -

I spent years waiting, and waited in fear. I stood by the sink grieving, after rejoicing had fled. Now it is time to love, and I'm learning we don't lose when we love.

Tummy Whispers

Maggi mee, comfort food.
I remember sneaking downstairs on sleepless nights, to my Papa with the telly on;
he'd whip up a bowl of chicken noodles with an egg done just the way it should be, and pour a little into the pretty plastic bowl with flowers.
And we'd both sit at the coffee table with the telly on
and slurp in silence.

Plate's Edge

Sudden urge to write, but no time for it, there's not much time for much else besides getting through uni life each day. Not that it's an unhappy thing; on the contrary, I genuinely still find joy in my current time and place; it's just that I don't have those beautiful long spaces of time for indulging in a good read or a write anymore. When's the last time I finished a book proper? Ages ago, it seems. As for writing, all I have now are the itsy bits of print which show up in my mind's eye, and I catch them, jot them down, like crumbs in the space of time between plate's edge and sinkhole. They are snatches of emotion, enough to get me by, a mediocre subset of the whole I'm missing out on.

Sometimes the places look still as they did the day you showed me around, and it brings a smile to my lips.

Like they're already gone despite still breathing in their bodies

Tomorrow I'll wake up and I will be sane.

Started running today and I love it. Gotta add sneakers to my December shopping list, 'cause I foresee these running shoes getting soiled steadily.

*Sigh* Has it really been just over a month since I dressed up for a jaunt? No regrets arriving with little more than a single suitcase and backpack, but I do miss wearing impractically pretty clothes.

Awakening On This Other Side

The first dreary day since my arrival in Sydney nearly two weeks ago. But I am happy here; there are many things to say but right now this is on the tip of my tongue; I am happy here.

Every day of the first week felt like a vacation; I know it was holiday season anyway, but the essence of the feeling was in me, and perhaps it had to do with how restful it is to have no one but myself to tend to. Just yesterday I took the elevator back up to my room after doing the laundry, inadvertently savouring this independence and freedom. I imagine most, if not all, students go through this same relish when living away from home, but I know mine is a little different.

Perhaps the following snippets from my writing pad will provide a sufficient glimpse of my experiences here, seeing as time will not allow a full photo entry.  =)

I can't bring everything with me, just pack it away. I have loved her, but now I have to pack this away.

Dear diary, I met the nicest guy today.

I must wash my hair, or die trying!!

How cold it is for tropical me.

Today we sat on the grass and ate. Got attacked by birds. So we ran away. Then a little kid came and chased them off by hitting two sticks together.

Child courage.

Are you serious!? I brought my rice cooker all this way and forgot to pack the cable!!

Found it some nights later. Apparently I'd just not recognised it 'cause it was unusually clean compared to how it was at home.

I wanted to be the one who'd let you win because you could; I'd walk my own pace and smile in pride.

But now I have new dreams and a brand new hope, awakening on this other side.

Sitting by the weather forecast page, refreshing it hoping it will turn warmer somehow.

What do I hope to achieve as a dancer?

A marked improvement in my natural style - modern

A certain degree of versatility

Courage to cypher

Every night I lay myself down feeling so thankful and content. For all that I have, here and back home. To God for bringing me here. And I pray that I will be this grateful for the tough times He will also bring me through.

It's really annoying that banks close on weekends!

Gym junkie?! Me!?

You want everything? Then this is what happens.

This is the sweetness of doing nothing.

Without A Heart

Why is it that once you start crying it is so hard to stop?

And I'm not even crying for the usual reasons one would expect of a girl leaving home; I weep out of old wounds made fresh, weep for the love I never knew I was supposed to have.

Excited I was, bright-eyed and ready to make a new life in a new land - but now I am even glad. I need room to grow, and this space is but a cage over my wings.

It is a trap: this home I have dreamed in for all of my life, this house I have served from the days my broom was actually for stirring cauldrons, this pressure chamber I have shared with her for ten years. And though I've known for some time that I have to go, it pains me to think I'm leaving her behind in this trap.
  

She looked on without a heart, as I wept from mine.