The Light in the Dark...

"Unless I have someday, ran my wandering mind away..."

It's quite comforting to know that I'm not alone in my views. I'm obsessed with Fleet Foxes Montezuma at the moment. It's my theme song (if I may be so bold). I cannot believe how each word in that song resonates so clearly to me and where I am. I have it on repeat at the moment. It makes swallowing the day easier.

The year is coming to an end. 10 days left. I would like to say that I have out grown the feeling of magic whenever the year turns. But alas, I think it is something ingrained in me. Or maybe it's just that I have yet to really grow up. Either way, I'm always hopeful that the new year will bring new things. Am I going to do the list? I don't think so. I think putting things on lists, especially, things that dictate your life, actually hinders the living part of it all. My dad would disagree. But I guess it's all a matter of perspective. If you want your life paths traced out for you, if you do not like surprises, then, yeah, probably a list or a plan will be brilliant.

But I have come to realize that I am not so good with routines. In fact, I'm terrible at it. To live my life according to a set of steps? It takes a huge toll. My wandering heart, my wandering mind, doesn't bode well with boxes and traced maps. I don't want to know what's behind the corner in front of me. I just want to walk towards it and meet it head on, come what may.

8 years of routine. 8 years of fatigue. I think I'm in need of some soul awakening. I hate this. I hate feeling this way. I hate being in such a dark place. I'm afraid the longer I'm down here, the further lost I will be. I'm struggling to hold on to the little light that I have. It is within this little orb of light that I still see the beauty in life - the pouring rain, a pretty face, a good story, laughter...

If there is going to be any wishes made for the new year, is that I hope that I do not lose my light...see you in the new year Skye, don't kill anyone now..

x

Foggy Weather

"You are not the same person you were yesterday..."

The haze outside is a little deceptive. Especially if I am inside enveloped in an artificial cold climate.  My brain imagines that it's foggy and cold as well outside and I have this urge to take a long walk in it. I am inclined to the rain and cold. I think there is something mysteriously beautiful about it. It's fall now in most parts of the northern hemisphere. Unfortunately I am living too close to the equator albeit being technically north of it. No yellowing leaves, no fuzzy drizzle, no rogue cold winds from the north to numb the senses.

From where I sit in my office workstation, I have sort of a half blocked view of the outside sky. Within this small space of blue (thick smokey grey at the moment - effin' haze...), I will myself to some far off place. I look up and out into the vastness, floating on the music playing in my ears and for a few seconds I see and feel fall all around me. It's strange stealing little moments like these during the day...

I visited my close friends over the weekend. And we ended up in a loud, blaring, stuffy, smokey club. I had not realized that I had grown up. Well in a way. You see, I had never enjoyed places like that before. Honestly. Just that when I was younger, compromise seemed easier. Those that I cared about loved it and thus I decided to go with the flow and tried to have fun. And I did have fun. Because my friends were happy and I can't help but be happy for and with them. But the other day, everything just felt off. Maybe it was because I had some stuff going on in my life. Going with the flow drains so much out of me, and frankly I was-am tired.

They were not impressed. I could see. I wish I didn't. I wished I was ignorant. But they, being the awesome people they were, left me to my own. A part of me felt bad, but then there was another part of me, that kept thinking, "Why are you wrought feeling what is true?" It should not be this hard to be yourself. What a predicament, to be surrounded by so many happy, giddy people and all you can do was fight off the tears that seemed determined to flow.

So here is my dilemma. Here is what I meant when I say I am grown up - I don't want to conform anymore. I want to be selfish (this sounded so much more righteous in my head :p) But I am still afraid of losing those that I care about. You'd say, "If they are true, they would still be by your side." I am still scared nonetheless.

I am so tired. I am so drained. The haze is deceptive. But I want to believe.

PS : Why is hot coffee gone cold so icky to me when I do actually enjoy iced coffee?

xo

Do You Realize??

“This world is a comedy to those that think; a tragedy to those that feel.”

- Horace Walpole -

This morning I woke up wondering if I could fit an easel in my room. I could always prop it close and lay it against the back wall when not in use. But then this will mean I might will get paint everywhere. I might will get into trouble. It's a good thought though. I should move it out from the KIV box into the go-ahead-go-crazy box.

Also, I thought about getting more socks. Those pesky sock goblins are at it again. Polka dots maybe? Or bananas? The Flaming Lips has got a whole bunch of points...hmmm...I need coffee...

x

Begrudging Yellow

"Do not trouble yourself much to get new things; whether clothes or friends...sell your clothes, keep your thoughts..." - Henry David Thoreau

Have never felt so much like being in a blender/food processor.

What a thought eh? Well, holding on to the rusty railings around me and watching the floor beneath me crumble slowly into some sort of black void that does not seem that dark.

Hold on.

Under the roof,

In a yellow room,

Eyes all around and voices scattered.

Want to disappear.

Want to dissipate.

Want to just meld into the furnitures that surround.

Feel the light heavy on top,

Is it just me?

Does the yellow begrudge me?

The room grows small,

Constricting slow but with conviction.

And you are far,

Too far for my empty,

Come on near...

x

Missing Socks

"I not know the difference between impressionism and expressionism. To me, both seem one and the same. They both take my breath away..."

I thought of you,

As the day begins,

And you are not nearly here,

Can't put into words,

But the sun shined anyway..

I can't go back,

So I put my hat on,

Quietly I let myself into the day,

Left home with a cup of coffee,

Watched as the door closed behind me...

Trodding on the fallen leaves,

Like stepping on different memories,

I'm always a little too late,

What can I say?

Maybe someday I'll make my own fate...

I don't know much,

I don't know where my favorite pair of socks went,

And you are not nearly here,

Can't put into words,

But I think of you...

x

Different Each Time

"...irrevocably, utterly, undisputedly broken. Hearts so often disintegrate and forms whole again in time. But it loses something each time. So I am each time a different person. I am not me..."

There is something that is different in these past days. I find it harder to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. I can't even bring myself to sit through completing writing a chapter nor finishing a sketch. Inhale. Exhale. Have I stopped working somehow? Like a broken clockwork contraption. Am I missing a piece of me? Inhale. Exhale. I'm looking ahead, staring at the walls in front. And I see only emptiness. What does all of this mean? I wish there is a booth somewhere that I can go to and just ask for answers. A place where they sell meaning on top of little wishes and bright sunshine in mason jars.

"Run away." I hear it at the back of my head all the time. A tiny whisper. A soft prayer. And I am on the verge to heed...

x

Intangible Exoticism

"...in those things that we cannot touch with our hands, in which we lose our souls to, these are what makes life an intangible exoticism..."

If I close my eyes, I can picture Paris on a rainy day. You know, the kind of rain that teases rather than drenches? That's what I see whenever I'm listening to Erik Satie. Have I told you that he is one of my favorite pianist? He's not traditionally classical. His works have a hint of jazziness to them. At least that's how I hear them. He emerged somewhere towards the end of the romantic era but his works are some of the most romantic that I've heard. Maybe it just appeals to me. I don't know. I can never really tell with these things. Sometimes there are some things that appeal to your heart and you don't have any answers as to why. And to me, that's okay. I'm curious yes but I'm not insistent on having answers to everything. A rainbow is beautiful just because it is.

Anyway, I met someone that I had not met in close to a year the other day. It was nice to be remembered. Anyone who says otherwise is just in denial. Oh how I love the little things. In a life full of thorns, I live my days in search of the roses in between. It might not be much, but it is enough.

Oh how doth my heart beats,

Oh how do I venture forth?

Now that I've again fallen,

For what I once had fallen for

Even for a brief moment...

Just a smile,

A glimpse of starry eyes,

And that voice,

The one that strums a symphony,

Surreal...

It all felt surreal,

Like stumbling into a lost dream,

Like dispersing into a song,

I always knew,

That weakness in me,

So I clench my heart,

Made sure it did not fly out,

In search of that brief moment,

Breathe in and exhale,

Maybe,

When my eyes open one of these mornings,

I find that smile by my side...

xoxo