And here is where I'm at.

I never got the hang of this.
Too bad.

Oh yes, I know that you're not interested, I see
And I should let you go your way, that would be most mature of me
But I've thought for oh so long and had the best idea yet
That you and I would get along if you would let me be your pet

I'd be the kind to follow everywhere
You'd run your fingers through my hair
Hold me close when you've had a fright
And let me in your bed when it's cold at night
You'd rub me real nice behind my ears
And sing me songs after you've had a couple beers
Give me treats when I've done something right
And let me in your bed when it's cold at night

Oh yes, and if my offer smacks of servitude
I only need remind you true love's course has yet to run real smooth
So now if you will let me near you all the night and day
Well, you will on your own see I do plenty more than sit or stay

Oh yes, and you could ask me where's my sense of pride
And I would tell you I've not had one since I met you last July
So now you see that it is rather foolish to give up
All of the perks and all the benefits if I were your spaniel pup

You'd rub me real nice behind my ears
And sing me songs after you've had a couple beers
Give me treats when I've done something right

- Emma Wallace, Pet

Nice guys finish last.

But really, it's not about finishing first.
I'm in this race too, and really, I hope that it's about finishing the race together.

I am giving up the idea of human agency and free will - we're really wonderfully helpless beings. Or at least, somewhere in between. Or maybe, like Ying and yang, there is black and white, in balance.

Now I'm trying to understand redemption in this, very obvious, context.

During our final Comparative Law class, C does an hour long, closing presentation, summing up the course:

C: [reading his power point slides]

So basically, the entire question of Comparative Law boils down to one question....

[clicks to change slide]

"Is Singapore a western style democracy.... Hannah?"

I must've made an impression in this class.

But more notably, they've left an impression in me.
Good bye wonderful people!.

On a seperate note,
I really need to learn to deal with letting things go.
If not, it will kill me.

I really do think that I have some of separation anxiety. I'm already missing a class.

I know. I don't belong here. But still.

I think I will return to Singapore, a little more shell-shocked then usual.

I woke up this morning with a funny taste in my head.
Spackled some butter over my whole grain bread,
Something tastes different, maybe it's my tongue,
Something tastes different, suddenly I'm not so young.

I'm just a stranger, even to myself.
A re-arranger of the proverbial bookshelf.
Don't be a fool girl, tell him you love him.
Don't be a fool girl, you're not above him.

Kiss the boys as they walk by, call me their baby.
But little do they know, I'm just a maybe.
Maybe my baby will be the one to leave me sore.
Maybe my baby will settle the score.

What have I become?
Something soft and really quite dumb.
Because I've fallen, oh, 'cuz I've fall-fallen, oh 'cuz I've fall-fall-fallen
So far away from the place where I started from.

Die alone ~ Ingrid Michaelson

Walking up the stairs from the bus stop, I felt the familiar ache to create music. And then I remembered how I know nothing about this stuff and really am powerless. No instrument is my voice and I am left with feeble attempts that barely make me happy. Happiness isn't even what I'm looking for anyway. No, I know that I never bothered to understand the rules and structures, the theories and constructions of music, although I know full well that is want makes a good musician (Know your theory! - I keep pressing my brother. He has talent too good to waste on elementary self-absorption). If I wanted to express myself through music, I must learn these rules before I have any authority or strength to contemplate breaking them - to make my own, and to call it mine.

And then there's the bigger issue of my life and identity. I don't know how or when I fell asleep here, but at some point, the struggle stopped, and I let the Angel go without giving me a name. My name. I don't know if it was because I was afraid, or because I was tired. But at any rate, I'm left here, whole and intact, which isn't always a good thing.

Not that I'm freaking out or anything. More like sitting in the dust, at midday, dirty and confused, woken by a passing stranger - he introduced himself as Disappointment, and said that he couldn't stick around, but might come back to check on me. Oh well. I stare at my hands and wonder if my legs still work. But before I figure that out, let me lie here a little while longer, while I try to make sense of it all. Maybe the Angel will come back and give me a second chance for more then a name.

Or maybe I should just get the fuck up and see if I can still walk. I'd limp through eternity if it meant that I could dance the truth. Just give me the guts to face You again until you break me, please.

Yes and no. To it all.

Memories :: The Woman in a Tree on the Hill



Where are we now?