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.

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.

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.

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.

things.

There are some things you can only ever do with some people in your life. Like wandering around the night safari howling with the wolves. Or the constant making fun of each other, and each other's friends and what nots.

There are things i will miss in 2 weeks.

Find the time,

we make lists, we make plans
to write books, to form bands
or to move to kreuzburg
and escape into the night.

It sucks when you are preparing for something you don't want to prepare for. Not that you don't want that something. Just that preparing for it makes you feel real bad bout everything and anything. damn it.

'I'm wide, I'm wide awake at night. my minds preoccupied. And the silence won't reside.'

What do you do when you know there isn't much time left, like perhaps a death criminal facing the rope, No. Its not certain death i am facing. Or a patient in a hospice. But i do not have a estimate, i have an exact date. So more of a gladiator then, preparing for a fight that will perhaps scar me for life, or bring eternal glory. Or perhaps its just another day in the ring.

But like perhaps at every important crossroad of my life, time starts moving backwards. Not unlike a movie reel set on reverse. Like a boxer watching his past fights in black and white, moving with his past self, dodging blows and punching into air. And perhaps he will enjoy it like i do, seeing it on playback, smiling at that punch he misread "ooh, that one hurted real bad", and chuckling at that 'good ol' one-two' sayin "it was nothin' man, nothin".

And damn the feel is gone. again. haha.

till next time when it returns.

Turning the page.

'Its not about starting afresh,
Its about leaving this one behind'
Not a quote from somewhere, or some lyrics that describe exactly how i feel about the upcoming 'adventure', if i may. But something i told a friend, bout how this is for me right now. And with the momentum increasing exponentially and the clouds gathering, one can hardly help but feel that the storm is coming. Perhaps over myself only.

And maybe it will be. Maybe the clouds will gather over me and cry me a river, and as i move away from one home to another, perhaps it will follow me. Leaving the world i left behind in perfect harmony, and perhaps a rainbow with it. And maybe the skies will be dark ahead. But that is not my main concern.

Its time for farewells again. And i know myself. I am never good at that and perhaps never will be. Not to friends, or to enemies, or to people more than friends, to mere aquaintances and friends that has perhaps been forgotten. Not when i am conscious of it or otherwise, not when its my choice and not when it isn't. And perhaps when the dust has settled all normality will resume but as of now, again, the clouds are but gathering. still plenty of time till the dust settles.

And will i forget. perhaps after even just only 6 mths. The times i had here. Will the great parasite of forgetfullness implant itself in the cerebral complexes of my memory and slowly extract strands of silver memory from my mind. Or will they turn sepia, erasing the little details of it all, beautifying? blurring? polishing? dimming?

And if i do not forget. Will we change, positively. For change is imminent, and it will be foolish not to expect so and not to hope so. But will it be better, or will life as i know it be over. Will I, finally, perhaps, 'grow up', or will all of the others do so? Will my wolf pack move back to one or will it fill the world wide.

Uncertainties.
Something that i hate to be not in control of. I mean i like the probabilities of a game of poker or a spin of the wheel. Something i am in control of. Something where i can say "woah, That's it, i am not putting one more cent in". I am a man of conflicting ideals, which alot of people remind me i am, which i am not denying i am. A man conflicted in dreams and ideas, whose start of the sentence contradicts the end. But it is this exact thing that i both love and fear about myself. I love liking both freedom and communism. Both dictators and free men. I love not killing animals by my own hands even though i consume meat by the ton. I love going all in with a 2-7 off suit and folding with a A-K suited. sometimes anyway. And i like to be in control always. Though i enjoy the losing of such from time to time. Which leads me back to..

And i am indeed emo right now. And perhaps rightly so. And sometimes i like to be so. It does free my mind from clutters and make the words in my head coherent. And now that mood is vanishing faster than i ask for, there is hardly more i could add in my current mood. So yeah for now.

Its Till next time.

Alright. Sorry for the long hiatus. Was trying to find my footing in this new year and make sense of it all amongst the great changes that seem so imminent to my life. Things have been far from quiet as i walked the lands with my ukulele in hand. Taiwan was fun. But that perhaps is another story for another time. Pictures are on facebook. so yeah. there's no need to post them here again.

Just met my future Monash mates over 3 days at a chalet. First time. Kinda hard to imagine all of us are gonna spend 5 years together. But the ppl are cooler than i first thought and yeah. it went easier than imagined.

Thoughts swarming my head about my impending departure actually. But in this condition i am hardly able to write anything coherent. And those swirling thoughts may just remain as swirling thoughts.

This may truly be the beginning of an end. There are times where even trees uproot themselves and walk. And this may be such a time. I am no tree. more like a plant floating around in mid-air. Is there such a thing? a shrub or something, airborne, unrooted?