The New Year sits in a corner of my unkempt room, a stranger to me and my blantant unconcern toward her presence. I don't think she really cares anyway, her magnitude and development of character being the cumulation of energy and aspiration toward this fictitious temporal 'end'. She sits. Unnoticed.
I've been living out of a suitcase here in Singapore. Whenever I come home, I come home from being an adult. I am the 19 year old that left her room in a ground-zero mess when she flew off to University. I become wide-eyed and soft. Comfort essentially chloroforms my sense of responsibility and I giggle down into an amusing kitten. Right now, there is more mess than floor and I cannot tell if I should celebrate the chaos or mourn the death of sensible order. My parents have remained gracious, generous and tight-lipped about my degeneration. My brother laughs at me.
So anyway, The New Year is fast fading and her visit has left no imprint on me. So I met Lofty at Gladys' at last year's swan song, we sat around the sacred tube and grumbled about the pathetic state of the media, both local and international. That's about all that The New Year has swept in with her. What about the resolutions? The renewed sense of hope? Of capability? Which which comes the secret fear and growing cynicism that I wouldn't keep up my promise to rise with the sun for more then 2 days. This ritual, this necessity. Where??!!
Well, they haven't been around. They left years back, the first grains of sand washed away by the haggard hands of weak, practical, reality. But more then anything, I think I need them now. Just a little. I need a reason to keep going and the strength to believe in it. My eyes have lowered and I've reduced myself to staring at my feet. Size 5. Not much to offer.
We're in this for the long run. Says the boyfriend. Ok. Can do. It's the long run that matters.
The humility is refreshing. And is very much the source for renewed strength. I won't cry for my absence when it can be filled with many beautiful things.
When I return, I return in full. I guess this is why leaving is so difficult. It is tantamount to death, to a certain degree.
Now, have I accomplished my search for solidity in the past 2 weeks? I don't quite know. I guess only the next four months will tell. But I can sense some increased measure of sureness. My tiny toes are gripping on a little harder and my heart rate is going down. Nothing has been done of my anger, but looking at daddy, I don't think I need to be worried.
Anyway, jello or no. I'm getting on a place on Saturday. And my destination will be made good.
I've been living out of a suitcase here in Singapore. Whenever I come home, I come home from being an adult. I am the 19 year old that left her room in a ground-zero mess when she flew off to University. I become wide-eyed and soft. Comfort essentially chloroforms my sense of responsibility and I giggle down into an amusing kitten. Right now, there is more mess than floor and I cannot tell if I should celebrate the chaos or mourn the death of sensible order. My parents have remained gracious, generous and tight-lipped about my degeneration. My brother laughs at me.
So anyway, The New Year is fast fading and her visit has left no imprint on me. So I met Lofty at Gladys' at last year's swan song, we sat around the sacred tube and grumbled about the pathetic state of the media, both local and international. That's about all that The New Year has swept in with her. What about the resolutions? The renewed sense of hope? Of capability? Which which comes the secret fear and growing cynicism that I wouldn't keep up my promise to rise with the sun for more then 2 days. This ritual, this necessity. Where??!!
Well, they haven't been around. They left years back, the first grains of sand washed away by the haggard hands of weak, practical, reality. But more then anything, I think I need them now. Just a little. I need a reason to keep going and the strength to believe in it. My eyes have lowered and I've reduced myself to staring at my feet. Size 5. Not much to offer.
We're in this for the long run. Says the boyfriend. Ok. Can do. It's the long run that matters.
The humility is refreshing. And is very much the source for renewed strength. I won't cry for my absence when it can be filled with many beautiful things.
When I return, I return in full. I guess this is why leaving is so difficult. It is tantamount to death, to a certain degree.
Now, have I accomplished my search for solidity in the past 2 weeks? I don't quite know. I guess only the next four months will tell. But I can sense some increased measure of sureness. My tiny toes are gripping on a little harder and my heart rate is going down. Nothing has been done of my anger, but looking at daddy, I don't think I need to be worried.
Anyway, jello or no. I'm getting on a place on Saturday. And my destination will be made good.
