tiReD

"I'm so tired I can hardly move. I'm even too tired to cry. If I started to cry, the tears wouldn't run down my face, they'd walk!" -- Charlie Brown

MisSiNg...

... my friend. My friend left. My friend left a couple of weeks ago. My friend left a couple of weeks ago and I miss my friend.

It’s a when-will-I-get-to-see-you-again kind of missing. It’s a how-are-you-doing-I’m-worried-about-you kind of missing. It’s a I’m-missing-you-very-much-I-wish-you-are-here kind of missing.

Have you ever missed someone so much that you wish you could pluck them from your dreams and hug them? That is how much I miss you, my friend.

dOoRS

The person who has natural curls goes for hair re-bonding. The person who has straight hair goes and perms it.

The person who is fat goes on a strict diet. The person who is thin stuffs herself with food.

The person who fights to live dies. The person who seeks death lives.

While one door closes, another door opens. Go through the open door, don’t look back, and don’t try to open closed doors.

She said choices are over-rated. Perhaps.

sToRieS

In the seven years since the coming of the plague, I have learned how to live alone. At first I had the excuse of needing to bury my loved ones. I washed my husband's corpse, a task more intimate than sex. I settled my daughter in her grave, glad at least that it was me, and not some rubber-gloved undertaker. And then they were gone and there was nothing left to do. No one to tend. No one to live for.

So I learned to get by without reasons. I have no justification for my existence anymore. I am nobody's mother, nobody's wife, nobody's daughter or sister or friend. It shames me sometimes, this urge to survive. It seems shallow and animal, to want to go on when everyone I ever cared for is dead.

And then a stranger came and talked to me and made me remember what it was like, to discover the echoes of yourself in someone else's story.


(from Destiny: A Chronicle of Deaths Foretold by Alisa Kwitney)

bAg-LAdY

I saw a bag lady the other day. Or rather, I smelt her first before I saw her tiny little body shuffling in front of me. It wasn’t just the “old-people” smell she had on her but something more human, like she probably hadn’t showered in months.

And in that instance, I was very grateful for the thick wooly jacket I was wearing. My sister and I were returning to the youth hostel where we had a nice clean room and hot running water to bathe in.

Sometimes it is so easy to forget little luxuries of life that we take for granted. Like having a full wardrobe of clean clothes to pick from. Money to buy a meal. A bed to sleep on. A roof over our heads. Or you being able to use a computer to access the internet to read this.

It must be really awful being homeless in winter.

PuNS iNteNdED

Inventions
Born of good intentions

Hope
A way to cope

Living
Taking as much as giving

Death
Out of my depth

Haunts
The past and taunts

Cover
Fear tries to cower

Light
A fire of might

Spark
The pain can be so stark

Begone
Life and love begone

mOmENtS

"Can I ask a stupid question?"

"Sure. Ask away."

"It's sort of more than one question. But. Look. Um, why do we hurt? Why do we die? Why isn't life good all the time? Why isn't it fair?"

"Those aren't stupid questions, Hazel. For some people they're the only questions that matter."

"Does that mean you won't answer them?"

"Sure, I'll answer. But it's kind of a big subject, and it's got lots of answers. And the answers don't really mean anything -- they aren't stupid questions, but they could just as well be 'When is purple?' or 'Why does Thursday?', if you see what I mean..."

"Not really."

"Well. I think some of it is probably contrasts. Light and shadow. If you never had the bad times, how would you know you had the good times?

But some of it is just: If you're going to be human, then there are a whole load of things that come with it. Eyes, a heart, days and life.

It's the moments that illuminate it, though. The times you don't see when you're having them... they make the rest of it matter."


(from Death: The Time of Your Life by Neil Gaiman)

mEmoRiEs aGAin

It has been a long while. And memories trick you. Sometimes I think none of what I remember ever took place. It seems as if my mind makes up its own stories.

Like the time my cousin dropped me into the sea. In my mind I sank so deep into the waters I saw the stern of a big fat cruise-liner coming towards me. Now even I know that sounds absurd, but I can see it so clearly in my mind it's scary!

And the scenes replay themselves. Over and over again.

The mind remembers what the body tries to forget.

sWiNG

Sitting on a swing. I saw some little kids at the playground, and thought to myself, I haven't sat on a swing in a long while.

I was always the nervous one, unlike some of my friends who loved to swoop right up into the skies, while I remained modestly close to the ground.

If I could sit on a swing right now, I would want to swing up high into the clouds.

ChaNGing TiMEs

I just attended my little sister's graduation and I am feeling a little wistful.

Back during my time in university, I handwrote letters home every week. Email did not come into existence until my 2nd year, and even then, only a spattering of friends had email addresses.

I still remember during my graduation, our family camera had decided to commit suicide and we had to buy a disposable camera. Photos were taken with great care and precision, as we were limited by the number of shots we had. Digital cameras and mobile phones were foreign concepts.

Today, I was the photographer for my sister's graduation and I could take hundreds of photos with our snazzy new digital camera boasting a great 7.9 megapixels with video capabilities. And immediately after I am blogging about the whole experience.

Things are so different now, and I feel old.

AirPOrTs

Airports always give me a funny feeling.

It is filled with so many emotions. The joy of seeing someone dear. The fear of losing someone near. The moments of parting and meeting.

And a lot of waiting. Waiting to check your luggage in. Waiting for your luggage to be scanned. Waiting to board the plane.

Airports give me a funny feeling in the stomach.

bRoKEn

Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

LeArNiNG

Learning ballet when I was young was a breeze. I looked at what my teacher was doing, I followed, and I felt myself inside each movement.

Learning ballet now when I am grown up is difficult. I look at what my classmates are doing, I can’t catch up, and I feel like a big fat elephant in each class.

I think I discovered the other day where the difference lies. Being young, you are less self-conscious, and learning is a lot by the feel of how things are. Being older, I become more conscious of who I am to the people around me, and the learning is a lot more theoretical. Almost as if growing older, I need to be given a reason to learn.

Can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Try me!

pResEnCe

A child’s sense of space and time is limited to the here and now. In any activity, a child gives it their full attention, because there is nothing else that can occupy the here and now. For a child, a country can be reduced to the size of grandma’s house. For a child, one last time can mean the game goes on forever.

Present. Being present. Being fully present.

To cherish the here and now, because all we have are moments.

oN cOuRSe

It was a long way away, yet she kept going at it. She never gave up, not once. For as long as she could draw breath, she would keep on going. And perhaps someday, she would reach her destination. Like those who had gone before.

Don’t we all? Plod along. Some of us choose to follow others. Some of us choose to take the road less traveled. Some of us chart our own course. Some of us go off course and need a kind soul to be with us for a while until we can go again.

She said plodding along is alright.