Sunday 28 February 2010

And tomorrow it begins. With a flurry of unfamiliar notes amongst a multitude of unfamiliar faces in a land unfamiliar. Its been two years since i've studied, and part of me wonders if i could still do it like i did 2 long years ago. Things have changed.

Friday 19 February 2010

Well. Guess what. I'm here. In Melbourne. City of 10 dollar meals.

Things have been busy. though good. Food is aplenty. Though expensive. Through all the noise however, it feels silent. Silence, within the four white walls that surround me. Reveberating with my every sound and every move. Silence, in the absence of the gang. The bunny ate the penguin. Vortex. Movies.

I don't miss home. I miss family.

Friday 12 February 2010

Enough.

And enough.

After posts of emo and despair, of faraway lands and exiles. Its finally time to focus on the good side of stuff. Tomorrow, i will step on what will be the adventure of a lifetime. Though i am not heading for the land down under yet, daybreak tomorrow will see me pay one last visit to my ancestral home. Where certainly, i will get one last blessing from the elders before heading for my destiny. And thus tomorrow will be the day. the day the adventure starts. Armed with a jacket bought by my friends on my first venture outwards, and a blanket woven by the cloth of a thousand families. I am ready.

Ready to face dragons, or monsters, wherever they may be. Whatever their breath may consist of, whenever they may come. Ready too, to face loneliness, in the knowledge that i shall always have friends back home. That my family shall always be ready to welcome me back with open arms. Ready, to take my chance at glory. This broadway through the garden of destiny. This tunnel, with the end still out of sight.

I am ready.

Am I?

Yes. I am.

And come monday night. perhaps those that have rode with me for the past 8 years and counting, shall meet me again. And there we shall not bid ourselves goodbye, but we'll toast the past and drink for the future*. For this is not the end of our journey, for though our paths may part here, one day, the path shall meet again, and the time that the paths meet, it isn't out of sight is it? For when the tree turn its branches, and the wind blows north-easternly again. I shall return. And then we shall sit down once more and tell of tales of the year past. And ride together again, we shall.

Prepare the horses.

Till next time.

Wednesday 10 February 2010

Day one.

Well. Well. Well.

The caravan arranged its procession of camels, as the men readied themselves for one more trip. Supplies were heaped onto the backs of the camels as the men sat in the nearby shade, drawing patterns in the sand, telling of could be attacks, and would be ambushes, each men forming a picture in their mind as they prepared themselves for the long journey ahead.

The king sat alone in his camel-top throne, thinking not of survival, for those are for the minds of the warriors, and others are hired in this instance to do that for him. He thought not of the path ahead, for his wise minister has already had that mapped out a thousand times, and shown him a thousand times, that even the minister, he thought to himself, must have been sick of it. His thoughts were instead on things unrelated, of perhaps little importance. Like how he likes lamb, he would think, perhaps its taste, or perhaps its texture. Little did he know that lamb in fact appealed to a primal instinct of him, that forgotten history as part of a hunting tribe. That every time he chewed on that meat brought him a little piece of the fire his ancestors sat around beneath the stars, chewing raucously as each of them tasted the glory of the hunt, the esctacy of the kill.

And perhaps of what will happen to the little boy he saw as the procession passed by the town for perhaps the last time in a long while. Will he grow in my absence? Or does he know me at all? Would i have made a difference if i need not leave, will it make a difference now that i do.

And of the tree, will it bear fruit while i am absent, or will it wilt and die, or be cut off? you can never know with the number of lumberjacks around nowadays.

And then he shifts his thought forward, he thought. How would the new place be, will there be sunshine, day after day? or will deer and the antelopes play?

"Its time to go, my master", The caravan guide said.

And perhaps it is, thought the young king. He turned back once more, on the city of glass that was once his. The streets were normal. Man, women and child are carrying on as though nothing ever happened. And maybe nothing did.

He turned around and signalled to move.

So begins the first day of the exile.

Its been long since i added any thing to my story that was due last year. But yeah. hopefully one day when i finally write that story, this excerpt finds its way into it too.

Sunday 7 February 2010

putting my iTunes on shuffle

[1.49pm] "me and all my friends, we're all misunderstood'

Its been a fun night with the guys, chilling out with the alcohol and the games. Waking up with a blocked nose and a more than tired mind, it would serve me much better to catch more sleep. Lost, however, will the thoughts be, if i do not write them down now.

[1.53pm] shuffle forward 5 times, "what is to be must be."

Its hard to write though, for as i have written before, the feeling is still kinda difficult to fathom. Its not the end you see, Its a beginning of another life. A double life perhaps. One where things will be really different. I mean, there are people i will meet for everyday of my life in my close future now. But it would be hard not meeting these people i have met weekly for the past 8 years of my life.

[2.04pm] Lunch. "and the water rolls down the drain."

Things will change. Drinking perhaps will lose its fun. And so may football. And perhaps it may not. but change is the only constant isn't it? I'm sure i wouldn't find another striker who would want to dribble past the whole opponent team, who remembers everyone he played against, who would want to go back to people of ancient times to bamboozle them with his fantastic football skills.

[2.11pm] "human nature took the best of me."

Or drink with a person who would not stop once alcohol touches his lips. Who finishes a cup of vodka as quickly as though it was nothing but plain water. Or with another who likes to drink but falls near unconcious after a few beers. Or play board games with the like, with someone who'd declare the game a bore after a round or two. who'd whip out a iphone to access facebook when everyone else is engaged in conversation.

[2.18pm] "open up my eager eyes"

Or befriending an Opera singer. who's also a lawyer. Or having a friend who comes over even in sickness, even when he's just booked out.

[2.21pm] 'and while i'm away'

I have always wanted to think of myself as a global citizen, whose roots are entrenched not in soil but in the water or air, floating about, able to uproot and replant myself whenever i require. After all, I've moved more than once. More than most people i'd presume. Crossing the straits multiple times when i am but years old. But truth is, staying too long here has grown me roots, perhaps a good thing, perhaps a bad. But these roots will hopefully stay. For to cut these roots now will cause unbearable pain to me.

[2.26pm] 'up up down down, left right left right B A start, just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart'

But it would a year again at least for us to gather round a table again. For perhaps a meal or a drink. Things i would very much like to do after this year passes.

[2.30pm] 'know your name, and go your own way'

And sometimes i want to be a Jedi, one who could tap into the wisdom of the force, to perhaps understand this need to depart better, or just to cope with doing so better. Which is not to say i do not know why i am doing all this for. Why am i spending half a million for. I hate growing. It brings along responsibilities and troubles, and worries about the future.

[2.38pm] forward 11 songs. 'Don't you worry, sometimes you just have to let it ride'

And perhaps sometimes you do. And perhaps things will be better than i fear it would be. Or perhaps the change will be less drastic than i am afraid it would be.

[2.41pm] 'There's a long black cloud following me'

Hopefully when i pass through the gates again soon, i would be sad.

Till next time.

Friday 5 February 2010

And once again the time has come. Not for goodbyes. but for gatherings. Its perhaps interesting that somehow the time of when you get to meet the most people is the time you are to say the most goodbyes. Friends that you have not met for perhaps the best part of a decade. Friends you say 'meet up soon' to, but nonetheless friends.

The time is not up for farewells yet. that will follow soon after. But for now. lets meet.

till next time.

"looks like the sun is finally falling on me now, i wonder. will i dream", Mitch Connor, Cartman's hand.

Monday 1 February 2010

February gloom.

I very much liked to write something today. Something that perhaps express how i feel about time or the lack thereof. Perhaps some lyrics of some song. Or a quote from somewhere.

Why does it always happen in febuary. Last time i had to leave, a long 4 years ago, it was also a Febuary. And i read through the posts i had then, to try get a grasp of why am i feeling unfeeling right now, why i am ready, yet unprepared. Hopeful, yet uneager. And i found little. The faces were unchanged, those at the dinner then was and will be with me till i board the plane, and even then, remain. The places are still there, the fields and the houses.

And after much pondering, wondering i still am of the changes and nots.


I striked it all outnot because i think i've found the answer. But i believe that it all is irrelevant now.

That all will be obvious when everything's done.

I hate Februaries.

Till next time.