Moving chaos

Sitting amidst the mess in my office, I see years and years of old glories mixed in with the new(er) all in the same undignified chaos on the floor.

No mistakes, though. Keep no mistakes.

And this is where I should end the post with a (attempted) artistic picture of the mess, leaving the reader to contemplate on the meaning of what I just said. Unfortunately I have no such device with which to capture an artistic photo, much less upload one on the spot. So the impact of the words is lessened. Or, is it?

Tis a hasty move we're making to our 'other-headquarters' which shall be our temporary 'home' for a month (hopefully), while this current place undergoes renovations. Like the others, I'm not looking forward to it but I suppose it'll be a change of scenery and a good opportunity for everyone to clear this archive of a place.

There's a mall behind the other place. It's small but mayhaps I find a nice thrift shop I can visit over and over. Or a quaint bookshop.

Little pleasures, little victories.

Wrong way, write way.

I've always enjoyed writing, maybe more so in high school when the accomplishment of finishing and twisting yet another essay title as far out of context as it could go always allowed me a sporadic sense of creative high. Yet after high school, I rarely had the chance to spew characters, ideas, and worlds onto paper and even blogged only rarely. Ekhem. Oh, but I have not lost that love for where else would I turn to when an idea spun a particularly sticky web in my head?

Lacking the gift of gab, my ideas translate more directly instead into ink on paper, materialising more simply than if I tried to bend the air to my thoughts.

This year, I considered joining NaNoWriMo, even wrote a little of the first chapter. But that idea stayed sane and did not spin out of control and so I left it alone deeming it 'not meant to be'. These days, I write no story but my own and lacking as it is in sense or entertainment, I write it in lieu of the Dory-days I should suffer in the future. *shudder*

As it is, my mind has made space for more recent memories by pushing back older, fonder memories into the dark dusty storage space at the back of my mind. They struggle to resurface, however, and sometimes they succeed. Like the other day I found myself remembering that I used to lie on the cold marble floor in my grandparents' home as a child playing with cars or coloring. Ah, carefree days when all I did was have fun and that would bring joy to all who loved me. What a funny notion that is now.

Though perhaps they'd be thinking 'Since you like writing so much, shouldn't you be working on bettering your CV since it seems not to be working?' And here I'll have to concede and slink offline. Jaa ne~

Slovenly update

Two months have passed and I haven't posted because I speak regularly to all who read this space anyway. (Deja vu, I think I've given this excuse before. Drat!)



Things have gone from being interesting in that curious way it is to a newcomer's eyes to rather mundane. I still hear police/ambulance sirens almost daily. And apparently the drunks sing their off key medley to the cold window panes of my brother's and parent's rooms every Thursday to Sunday. I don't suppose it's very much different from the locally produced off key medleys I hear on the radio anyway. Yes, I'm being utterly mean and no I can't sing but I can hear and what I've been hearing, I don't like.


And then there's the awful soap operas like 'Bold and the oh-my-God-it's-still-running Beautiful' which my mom resorted to watching and is now hooked on, much to my chagrin. So, no there really isn't much by way of entertainment here unless you want to go 'take a hike' (hur hur), take pictures of the scenery, drink yourself stupid and take a dump on the hotel carpet after that... you get the picture. But my family does try to go for walks every weekend at various parks so I guess there're a few pictures I can post up.

Sunset at the Homebush Bay park.

Dangling my legs over the ledge of Balmoral Bay.

The sailing dock at Balmoral Bay.

There should be more but they're in my phone and I'm a little lazy to load them from there. Heh. Furthermore, I am supposed to be looking for a job right now after all. Or practicing my driver's knowledge test. Grr. Such tedious things I never thought I'd ever have to do again. Till next time then..

The window open - A morning

The sunlight streams through strong and bright as early as 7 in the morning. And if that is not enough to bring you back from worlds ethereal back into this mundane one, the Kookabarras must add their chorus too.

"Good morning, Kookabarra" I mutter, staring out at the not-so-Secret-Garden of Australia. Ivy does not cover the walls for one, and neither is the place entirely overgrown. Just barely, in fact. But that's what you get with a large backyard and a family neither of whose thumbs are properly green. The trees are nice, though. We have three large ones and a few other young-ish saplings. They were probably planted by a past owner of this place. Just not sure which past owner. I suppose it doesn't matter. What matters is the trees stand now, invitingly to an assortment of birds - Kookabarra being one of them, extending shade and welcome to future owners. Or perhaps just giving them more to do, in terms of tidying up the garden. Ah well.

There can be no ownership without effort, though, I suppose. Or so my mom says. A house is just a house and not really a home if you don't live in it. Invest some time, emotions, sweat, and in some cases, money in the place. I suppose my first investment is liking the house. But it's really the least I can have - a home - considering I have to rebuild the rest. Ah well.

To work, then, to work. (a pun, some may get and some may not. ;p)

That banana-curve from KL to Sydney

So I'm finally down to doing my little stint in the Land Down Under. Thank God for reruns of old favourites as in-flight movies. It's not so easy to mope your eyes out while watching Legally Blonde and The Incredibles in succession. :)
I didn't, however, get much sleep either. Just little naps here and there. I sat next to an old couple coming home after what seemed to be a happy second honeymoon in Thailand. They very nicely pointed out to me that border security can get nasty about the food they catch you "smuggling" in which meant me bidding goodbye to the little chocolate chip muffin I couldn't quite stomach for breakfast.

Even in an old, quaint looking red brick house, it's a little freezy cause I got here just in time to enjoy the end of winter. As always with me and cold-ish places, showers are a pain and it feels like I may have packed the wrong clothes for this place.
Oh well.. mayhaps it opens the way for additional members to my closet family. xD That's quite unlikely, though as I suddenly recall my mother mentioning my supply of winter clothes being the most impressive in the family. *blush*

And as at the end of the day I sit here in my pink sleeping-bunny slippers after having my first skype-date with K, the events of the past 24 hours sink in. I'm actually here now. Everyone really did bid me goodbye at the airport (tearfully, or not) and all the 'preparations' of the past six months has really come to naught. Or at least it feels that way. The physical evidence of said 'preparations' such as the two books of finally processed photos on my desk speaks otherwise. I will be heavily leaning on those books the coming months I believe.

Jumble-laya...

Coming to the university really early in the morning is either a pain in the neck or a good chance to gather your thoughts in peace. The library is often quiet, as it is, but at this time its also near-empty. And cold.

Having had the foresight to retrieve his jacket from the car earlier, I slip into its warm comfort gratefully. Even if it looks ridiculous on me like an overly-casual grey lab coat or even like, now that I have short hair, a boy though a little on the feminine side. Here, it doesn't matter though. The warmth is close to that of a constant hug, an embrace I can feel even when he's not directly beside me. It lends some comfort, at least.


There is truly no rest. As rolling waves that come in one after another, at times getting bigger with each wave, so do assignment deadlines keep knocking me over. I don't think I'm alone in saying that "I WANT A BREAK!" though I probably am all by myself in this cesspool of laziness.
I've just "finished" the first draft of my final year project though 'finished' is a little too much of an assumptive word to use. But...I'm tired and I want to complain. So here I am. Heh.

People have been so nice though. Much as I hate doing surveys, it was almost worth the weird-slash-fearful looks I got from some people when they saw me walking toward them with a stack of papers in my arms to meet friendly and helpful individuals irregardless of race. And here I could go on a long morally/politically correct boast about racial harmony and whatnot but I won't. S'not nice to make these very real people I've met sound like simple 2-dimensional characters out of your primary school textbook.

Though, I would love to go back to those days when if I was bored in class, I could draw mustaches on the pictures in those books and not bother too much about studying because it was all in your head anyway. Ah, wishes...

innocence fades.

"Forget what we're told, before we get too old" - Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

So much of growing up is taken to mean gaining more knowlegde,wisdom, intellect. Collecting memories, bits of 'advice' from here and there just to build up who we are and how we think or reason things. Sometimes, there are things not meant to be taken so literally. Taken with a pinch of salt, so to speak, in the words of wise older people. Heh.

For most, growing up means to forget how to laugh at simply anything. Not just at your friends as the dog-eat-dog world teaches you how but with them as well. Means to an end or an end in itself? Ethical questions I will be taught to ponder in my next semester. A question I believe should be imbued from before but isn't. So now I'm questioning the manner we're made? No, it simply is. We are all given choices.

There's a verse in the Bible. It quotes
"See, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. So be as cunning as serpents and as innocent as doves." Matthew 1-:16
It was one of the verses that baffled me most. Still does. I know not how to keep that innocence and walk the tightrope of morality and survival.
Survival even within siblings even in a home where there are indeed no favourites, no special apples. Hard to see, hard for some to feel that way but it's true. Judgement is not by man, yet time over will he do it. It's not hard to judge when one is not on the receiving end. No surprises there.

When children play, seldom do they divide by color or even speech. It comes later, with mimicry and observation. This suddenly brings to mind a typical child's game where a set of similiar looking objects are placed on a page and the child is told to spot different one.

It's fun to point out differences because it reaffirms the belief that you're not the odd one out. It helps assure the ones you talk to that you're in. Maybe. I don't know.

'Children laugh more than 300 times a day while adults only less than 20 times a day.' So it's said.

Thinking in intricate swirls this close to bedtime and typing it out?
I must need sleep. :)

Oh, before that, HAPPY 21st BIRTHDAY, CHELLE-CHAN!!! Miss you loads and wish you could be here (or we could be there) to celebrate this day for you!