Tuesday, January 27, 2004
i could feel the bitterness in your voice, cutting through the air already thick with tension between us. i decided to laugh it off. what had i done to deserve such treatment? i had never made you any promises; we had never had any agreement of obligation to each other. i resented the fact that you resented the fact that i had a life beyond what you knew. was it my fault? maybe my not speaking up sooner had violated what trust had been built up between us. was our knowledge of each other so volatile? i withdrew, fearing that if i took another step forward, what little was left between us would shatter. we made the rest of the walk in silence. will we ever be able to speak again? not just exchange words, but understand each other even without language? what broke between us caused not an irreparable breach, maybe, just a glass wall that will prevent us from ever truly hearing one another again.
Monday, January 26, 2004
i was holding a brand new book. it slipped from my hands and fell into a puddle far away, and sank into the puddle and was completely submerged. i'll get it for you, he said, and started running towards the puddle. don't bother, it's ok, i started to say but before the words were out of my mouth he was striding across the parking lot, jumping over puddles that varied in depth and murkiness, the one my book was lying in being the deepest and blackest of all, as black as the night sky we were under. i saw it coming before he did, the huge truck racing across the parking lot, i opened my mouth to scream a warning but all i could do was run closer to where he stood bent over, picking up my book. he looked up as the truck approached, and fell flat on his back. i hid my face in my hands, not wanting to see what would come next, and when next i peeked, miraculously the truck had swerved past him. i was about to breathe a sigh of relief but then realized the truck had crashed into two other persons who then faded from the scene. he walked back to me, bloodied and breathless, holding the book in his hand. it was dry, although now it looked old. i wondered why i didn't feel more gratitude than i did. the last thing i remember...i took the book from him, and then darkness.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
"you were screaming you head off and flailing (hdysi) your arms and we could hear you screaming though the scream sounded far-away and High.
it's like a constant bird-cry in the background or something (there was only one scream - yours) and we were commenting that you were screaming pretty loudly."
telekinesis? psychonut connection? it's scary when people hear things you haven't said just the way you would have said it.
it's like a constant bird-cry in the background or something (there was only one scream - yours) and we were commenting that you were screaming pretty loudly."
telekinesis? psychonut connection? it's scary when people hear things you haven't said just the way you would have said it.
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
walking alone, i can
move at my own pace
run when i want
rest if i need to
pause to look at the
world around me
breathe
start at my own time
stop when i'm done
walking alone, i only have
my shadow
to contend with
move at my own pace
run when i want
rest if i need to
pause to look at the
world around me
breathe
start at my own time
stop when i'm done
walking alone, i only have
my shadow
to contend with
Thursday, January 15, 2004
how good it is for sisters to dwell together. how good the years together have been, and how promising those to come are. i was recently reminded how precious it is to have friends to grow up (and eventually, to grow old) with...i thank God for each of you, idiosyncrasies and all. cheers to the p/pee/pea/however-you-want-to-spell-it club. here's to many godchildren with increasingly sane names, ha.
Friday, January 09, 2004
being a parent is one of the hardest jobs in the world. i'm not even one and i can vouch for that! i think one of the reasons it's so hard is that we try to create a perfectly fair world for children, try to teach them that if they share, the world will share with them, that if they are kind and polite they will be treated well by everyone else. we want them to think that the only way to succeed is to make sure the cake is cut right down the middle and everyone gets an equal portion. we want them to believe that as they behave, so the world will behave towards them. but the real world is not like that, and that's where we get into trouble. we create an artificial environment for children, bring headaches onto ourselves while doing so, and end up with children who get shocked when they discover what the world really is like. i'm not saying we should thrust children into the ugliness of the world the moment they're born. i'm merely recognizing the impossibility of being both a good and entirely honest parent at the same time. then again, maybe if all children were taught the golden rule when they were young and grew up practicing it, the world might be a much better place. train up a child in the way he should grow, and when he is old he shall not depart from it. it might seem futile trying to battle the brutality of the world, but while there is still kindness existing out there, no matter in how sparse amounts, maybe it's worth building those glass bubbles for children, so that as they grow up they can make their own decisions whether or not to let the bubble burst.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
it has been brought to my attention that i'm the only one who can't view the blogspot sites, since they all load fine on chris's computer, how perfectly annoying. as such, this blog has just become a more lifelike version of me - the world has a better view of it than i have.
Friday, January 02, 2004
it's hard not to feel resentful when you're expected to drop everything you have planned at the ring of a doorbell, and play nanny to children that are not yours. how does my mom do it everyday? but i have learnt that love is truly powerful, because it is stronger than the impulsive selfish thoughts that arise, "why should i make this sacrifice?"...and you realize that you do it because you love, and that love means giving till it hurts.
