by | | Her
Once upon a time, you pointed at the stars and told me that we are alone in this universe
I remember
That with millions of stars in our galaxy, we are insignificant in whatever we do
I remember
That we are just specks of dust, akin to tiny ants crawling on fours
I remember
In our very limited lifespan on earth, we will not be remembered
I remember
Our foot steps erased, and history rewritten by the victors
I remember
Our lives, full of suffering and pain, happiness an insanity.
I remember
To exist, is to merely, exist.
I remember
That faith is the only thing holding us together
I believe
With imagination, we can create a different reality
I Believe
Our human potential, to change the course of history
I Believe
As long we continue to believe, it will come true one day.
It will.
Thank you my friend, I believe in you.
I believe in you too.
by | | Her
A strange calling is telling me to board the plane to New York, this instinct is so strong, I can’t explain it. It is luring me to go closer, and closer to the unknown.
When I close my eyes, I am in the middle of Manhattan, holding a yellow umbrella, sharp drops of rain falling through the skyscrapers, out of a scene in the Matrix.
The fear cripples my senses. My mind ceases to have logical thoughts. I am on the verge… of an explosion.
I… have to go.
by | | Her
I have to admit… I have been not writing much recently.
Why? There are just too many distractions – too much traveling, too much work, too much changes. I have been trying to do a simple act of just sitting down to – write, but it seems almost impossible in this age of connectivity. There is facebook lurking in the corner, the email inbox ringing with messages, there are just a thousand and one things to do. It is never ending… o my, no wonder I feel so overwhelmed to create new works of art!
I came across Zen Habits – Focus, and it has been very useful so far. As of today, I have changed my desktop wall paper to a nature scene – a sea of endless waves on my sleek iMac. My Google search screen shows a magnificent waterfall. I have tuned into Last FM – Tibetan Music. I have uncluttered my home, threw out all the things we do not need. My home is only filled with the bare minimal – without a television. I am making it a routine to stay disconnected from the internet by going to the cafe or lounging by the afternoon sun on my window seat.
I have to go back to the mode of creation, without creation, what is life?
I think recently I have an issue on caring too much on what do people think of me when they view my writings. No, my writings and my personal life are two entirely separate issues. My life is wonderful, I have a beautiful family, a beautiful home, a small supporting group of friends… my life is perfection as the way I live it. I am an avid reader, and reading inspires me to write.
I will begin writing actively from now on, an hour or two a day.
This is a new start.
by | | Her
Music, is the answer to my soul.
When I was a young girl, my mother was a classical piano teacher. My waking moments were filled with peace and joy. For days and nights, our home sung of music. Her students came from all walks of life to find the answers to life – through music. They practiced and she taught, they learnt and she guided. The fondest memories were of those times, were life was simple. The pursuit of art was the answer, and that the world revolved around the classics.
I never learnt the piano. Till today, I am questioned why. My mother was a beautiful pianist, well known in music circles and amongst her friends for her fine craft, why, did not her daughter continue her legacy? I knew the answer, I was simply not a musician. I am simply, a writer at heart. Our expression of artistry, our execution, was different. I was not her, and she is not me.
In my?earliest?childhood, our weekends were spent viewing performances in Victoria Concert Hall. ?I remember falling asleep in most of the performances, for I did not understand. I did not understand how powerful music can be as a form of communication. I did not understand how music can call out to our soul. I did not understand these, so I slept in my lullabies and dreamt of another world where I can create and be in.
Over time, my appreciation for music deepened. I started to realise why, why my emotions are stirred and moved by the black and white keys on the piano, why, my heart cries when I sing of pain, why, my soul sings when I hear the voice of an angel. My emotions, awoke with the sound of music. For my emotions had been dormant, it has been numbed and hollowed.
There was once I asked my mother why did she pursue music.
She answered,?”Music is a universal language, and has no barriers. For it is the most powerful language on earth.”
I finally understand why.
by | | Her
I hope you like the new look of my blog. For some time, I have been procrastinating to change it to reflect more on the style of writing I had developed over the years.
I am quite happy at the new look and feel of this template as it gives a more emotive feel to my writings.
If I have 48 hours in a day instead of 12 hours (half of which I spend on sleeping and doing nothing), it would be so much better.
I am thinking of buying a special kind of pen that records what is hand written, and transferred electronically to the computer using a USB drive. This way, I can write on my notebooks and transfer the writings later on to my computer and upload them quickly onto my blog. The only downside is this pen costs AUD$148. Is it worth the investment?
by | | Her
Visiting New York was a surreal experience. It has been 7 months since I last visited that place and there is an urging desire in me to visit again. There seems to be something waiting for me there, something that I have not uncovered. Something that is waiting to be opened; like a Pandora box.
I feel there is something missing, something that I did not pick up from that place when I last visited. Maybe 2 weeks was too short, maybe 3 months would be more appropriate. Maybe it was the manuscript that I did not leave at the writer’s house doorstep because the ending is not complete. Maybe it is my self esteem and lack of confidence. Maybe I was not fully ready.
Maybe it is the new storyline sitting on my lap that I have not developed for over a year. Maybe this is the one that will change my career direction, or my life for good. I know I have a compelling story but why am I not writing? Yes, I can blame it on everything else but it all comes down to the actual act of writing.
Maybe it is just me.
And I do want to visit New York again.
I do foresee myself there again, this time, more prepared.
by | | Her
Michael loves tarantulas, and this pet he has is named after me.
I just love those water glaring eyes of hers… she looks so pretty as a grown up now!
by | | Her
I have not been writing actively for around 5 months now. It is quite frightening to blank out, when I have been doing so on a daily basis. I would attribute it to many factors – stress from adapting, travelling, too engaged with other projects. I would like to write more, but my mindset is rather different now. It is quite difficult to put it to words.
I had recently undertook a online writer’s course, but still I am lacking in motivation or inspiration to write. I feel like I am someone else. I might come under a different pen name for the sake of being “someone else”. I will be attempting to write more outside as I have been stuck at home for the past few weeks.
I always wanted to invent a device to increase the amount of time I have to work by extracting it from others who do not need their time (because they are lazy or unmotivated). Sometimes, I think we are not utilizing our maximum productivity because of pure procrastination. After a certain limit of working, we naturally tend to feel tired and lethargic. Imagine if you could take a syringe, poke it into some lazy dude, and extract his time so you can increase your productivity. I am sure he would be happy for that (as he would feel life is too boring for him anyway – does that sound familiar to you?). Sounds weird but it does make alot of sense.
by | | Her
I am currently in a very happy and contented state of my life that I wish would go on forever in a place where we belong. I never had experienced this state of tranquilly for such a long time, maybe the only moments I had ever felt this way was being caressed like a baby in my mother’s arms. I feel safe, secure and protected. I felt I had been fighting a war and I could finally rest.
After touring New York and Los Angeles, I discovered more ugliness in capitalism. After coming back to Melbourne, I discovered more beauty in the small and simple things in life that can never be brought or sold. If I had a choice, I would make my world beautiful and live in it like a doll in a doll house. I have been doing just that, decorating my new home with floral patterns and soft white linen. There is a green lush tree outside my window that smiles at me each day. I had found my happiness, and I am very lucky indeed.
I am honestly sick with my old life. I wish never to return to it again. I hated living a lie. It was everything I was not. I never felt accepted or appreciated for who I was. I never felt belonged. I always felt I dropped out from outer space and landed on the wrong place. I was misunderstood for a quarter of my life, and I am going to put an end to it all, for I can plan what I want for myself for the next three quarters of my life ahead.
Here, I feel belonged. I feel safe. I feel appreciated. I feel beautiful. I feel that the world is waiting for me, and I don’t have to chase or fight for anything. I can stay in my shell and know that when I come out I will not be harmed.
I will be revamping this site soon to start afresh on a new note.
