Yesterday I met an old secondary school friend whom I haven't spoken to in an inexcusable 4 and a half years. Seeing her again was surreal, like how I would imagine touching a phantom limb would be like. It brought back a sudden gush of memories that I didn't know I had forgotten (which inexplicably, made me giddy with excitement). We had both changed ("so irrevocably" she said), but for the most part, I was glad to see her happy.
We all need little reminders now and then, that life is not a race. And in slowing down a little, it becomes clearer that the people we are around can still amaze us, in that most unexpected way.
This past month, I've read about 10 books (Twilight will not count). And I'm not sure what the point of all this hapless reading is. It's doesn't enrich my life in any tangible way, help my grades or my eyesight, or even give me something to laugh about. So Anna chose Vronsky, Pip loves Estella, Heathcliff dies tragically. It's like that one time, this guy I have yet to forgive said that what I'm doing is irrelevant. And right now, it's hitting a little too close to home.
Tomorrow I will be helping out at a children's nursery, where no doubt they would try to reach the boundaries of my patience. Irrelevant, huh.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
the new normal and everything else
You may recall from earlier my unspeakably whiny complaints about how I miss Canberra. And I got abit of flak for it too, and I just want to clear it up. I don't particularly miss the place Canberra (there's not much to miss). But it's the feeling of independence, living in your own house, and studying purposefully toward what I want to be. There, boring as it is, my life appears to moves forward, and it just stalls during the holidays.
In response to my unexpected feelings of dislocation, someone told me, "be patient, there's no hurry." And I realized how true that was. But it has been incredibly rewarding meeting up with old friends. In particular a Mr Jackson, who I hadn't seen in a year, and also, hasn't been to town in a year.
I love buying presents. During the holiday season, I have pretty much been walking around endlessly looking for things to buy for people. This is an especially satisfying hobby for a vapid person who has her priorites all wrong. Incidentally, I bought a pair of boots on impulse, which makes me look like an elf ("You look like an elf," two people have remarked.) But I love it anyway. This year is probably the most I have ever spent on my family, and I have to admit it is overdue. So I'm pretty broke now, but I'm counting on my CNY receipts to finance my Taiwan trip.
Have you watched Twilight? I did. And I can understand why people are so crazy over it. But it makes me feel quite heartless, when I see two star-crossed lovers onscreen and my instant reaction was to roll my eyes. Just like Starlight. Then I went to read the books. Yes, all of them. It's expected that people would like them, but they were horrible for me. Trashy, young-adult mush. There's deep-rooted cynicism for you.
In some ways, me self-concept is still defined by inconsequential things - the books I read, the things I like, the places I belong to. There's a new one too - the way I present myself. I have never been chatty around people (with one glaring exception), but I've been comfortable with solitude. But I wonder sometimes, if I'm missing out on things like meeting new people, hanging out with friends, and instead doing things myself. Is this part of growing old? When you start to feel a disengagement from people. I just don't know.
I've been feeling a little unsettled about my grandparents these days. In particular my grandma, who is very dear to me. I know that, although she hides it well, she is somewhat fearful of death and it's unknown emptiness. Since I have returned, her age had been begun to show, subtly, but in ways I cannot ignore. Her aching legs, her heavy sighs, her wrinkly eyes. But it is this new look she has acquired, which had never been there before. Withdrawal, resignation, pain. I remind myself constantly that she is the same woman that chased me around the house to spank me, the same one that escaped and survived the Japanese, the same one that won a scholarship overseas. It's just that she hardly appears as the same person she once was, as if she's... wasting, in the battle against time. And she loves the baby, even more than I do, and I can feel her sense of loss knowing that she'll be missing out on the baby growing up. But anyhow, this is not a sob story I should vomit on you.
In other redirected news, the baby is clingy, I'm going to fish market tomorrow morning and meeting my PL friends after that, smelling like fish.
Later, folks.
In response to my unexpected feelings of dislocation, someone told me, "be patient, there's no hurry." And I realized how true that was. But it has been incredibly rewarding meeting up with old friends. In particular a Mr Jackson, who I hadn't seen in a year, and also, hasn't been to town in a year.
I love buying presents. During the holiday season, I have pretty much been walking around endlessly looking for things to buy for people. This is an especially satisfying hobby for a vapid person who has her priorites all wrong. Incidentally, I bought a pair of boots on impulse, which makes me look like an elf ("You look like an elf," two people have remarked.) But I love it anyway. This year is probably the most I have ever spent on my family, and I have to admit it is overdue. So I'm pretty broke now, but I'm counting on my CNY receipts to finance my Taiwan trip.
Have you watched Twilight? I did. And I can understand why people are so crazy over it. But it makes me feel quite heartless, when I see two star-crossed lovers onscreen and my instant reaction was to roll my eyes. Just like Starlight. Then I went to read the books. Yes, all of them. It's expected that people would like them, but they were horrible for me. Trashy, young-adult mush. There's deep-rooted cynicism for you.
In some ways, me self-concept is still defined by inconsequential things - the books I read, the things I like, the places I belong to. There's a new one too - the way I present myself. I have never been chatty around people (with one glaring exception), but I've been comfortable with solitude. But I wonder sometimes, if I'm missing out on things like meeting new people, hanging out with friends, and instead doing things myself. Is this part of growing old? When you start to feel a disengagement from people. I just don't know.
I've been feeling a little unsettled about my grandparents these days. In particular my grandma, who is very dear to me. I know that, although she hides it well, she is somewhat fearful of death and it's unknown emptiness. Since I have returned, her age had been begun to show, subtly, but in ways I cannot ignore. Her aching legs, her heavy sighs, her wrinkly eyes. But it is this new look she has acquired, which had never been there before. Withdrawal, resignation, pain. I remind myself constantly that she is the same woman that chased me around the house to spank me, the same one that escaped and survived the Japanese, the same one that won a scholarship overseas. It's just that she hardly appears as the same person she once was, as if she's... wasting, in the battle against time. And she loves the baby, even more than I do, and I can feel her sense of loss knowing that she'll be missing out on the baby growing up. But anyhow, this is not a sob story I should vomit on you.
In other redirected news, the baby is clingy, I'm going to fish market tomorrow morning and meeting my PL friends after that, smelling like fish.
Later, folks.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Light.
the angel in the details, buried
beneath the sea inside
reaching, to the swirling waves.
"Forgive me, my love,"
for what could have been
anchoring the weightlessness of being.
beneath the sea inside
reaching, to the swirling waves.
"Forgive me, my love,"
for what could have been
anchoring the weightlessness of being.
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