Sometimes we get so comfortable with habit, so comfortale with one particular setting. We dread a change, because we might not know what it would bring, whether it would be beneficial for us, whether or not it would mean things would get worse.
But a change of scenery could be just what the doctor ordered; a diferent seting could just be what the mind needed to unleash, to explore freely, to appreciate things from a slightly different angle, to see life from a totally new perspective.
You think I'm gonna say somehting along the lines of me packing my bags and moving somewhere else, don't you? Well, it's not. It really is a simpler thing of removing yourself from the lounge room you've been sitting at and staring at the TV for the past 30 hours or so and parking yourself into another room in the house. It's about picking up that rug you've recently rediscovered, crocheting a few double crochets, and emptying your mind in the process. It is about taking in your new surroundings, and the wonder that comes with it. And it is about embracing the divine inspirations flooding through your mind because of it, rewiring your centre so that you can once again, appreciate the bigger picture and utilise the talents you have been endowed upon.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back...
That's how I feel lately.
At the risk of being totally lame, this post is, once again, about me grieving over the loss of you, our beloved Director. Nearing two months of your passing, I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you will be gone far longer than if someone was taking long service leave.
I've stopped looking for your car in the carpark - I guess that's something. At one stage, I thought I had accepted the fact that you will never be coming back (though I am still hoping for a miracle!). That the only thing that will remind me of you are the memories I have of you, and the photos we have put up around the place. But something, and don't ask me what that something was, knocked me back and I am, once again, in a state of denial and disbelief, the way I have been ever since I heard of that shocking news.
Perhaps a lot has to do with the upheaval that followed after your sudden passing. The Acting Director appointed to take your place, one of my bosses with whom I have built a wonderful relationship with, had also fallen ill and had to take 3 weeks off work. His replacement was... well... nothing like him, I guess, and it hit me like a tonne of brick how in the course of six weeks, so many changes have happened in such little time and none of us was prepared for it.
I don't wanna sound like I'm blaming you - God knows that you will probably be giving Him a good amount of ear-bashing, calling you to eternal life way too early. I have heard some people say that it was a good thing that your colleagues were chatting and laughing again - a sure sign that we are all moving on with our life without your presence. I, on the other hand, still feels like the opposite - that by laughing and joking around, we are moving forward, leaving you behind, forgetting you... Irrational, I know.
I know that my grief was nothing compared to that of your wife and two kids - I can only imagine how deep their sense of loss was, and still is. But I will say this: that I still miss you; that I am still half-hoping that you will waltz in through the front door and greet everyone, giving all of us that crooked smile and said "Surprise!"; that every day, I wake up and for that split of a second, thought that the reality was nothing but a bad dream, and the memory of you was the wonderful reality.
At the risk of being totally lame, this post is, once again, about me grieving over the loss of you, our beloved Director. Nearing two months of your passing, I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you will be gone far longer than if someone was taking long service leave.
I've stopped looking for your car in the carpark - I guess that's something. At one stage, I thought I had accepted the fact that you will never be coming back (though I am still hoping for a miracle!). That the only thing that will remind me of you are the memories I have of you, and the photos we have put up around the place. But something, and don't ask me what that something was, knocked me back and I am, once again, in a state of denial and disbelief, the way I have been ever since I heard of that shocking news.
Perhaps a lot has to do with the upheaval that followed after your sudden passing. The Acting Director appointed to take your place, one of my bosses with whom I have built a wonderful relationship with, had also fallen ill and had to take 3 weeks off work. His replacement was... well... nothing like him, I guess, and it hit me like a tonne of brick how in the course of six weeks, so many changes have happened in such little time and none of us was prepared for it.
I don't wanna sound like I'm blaming you - God knows that you will probably be giving Him a good amount of ear-bashing, calling you to eternal life way too early. I have heard some people say that it was a good thing that your colleagues were chatting and laughing again - a sure sign that we are all moving on with our life without your presence. I, on the other hand, still feels like the opposite - that by laughing and joking around, we are moving forward, leaving you behind, forgetting you... Irrational, I know.
I know that my grief was nothing compared to that of your wife and two kids - I can only imagine how deep their sense of loss was, and still is. But I will say this: that I still miss you; that I am still half-hoping that you will waltz in through the front door and greet everyone, giving all of us that crooked smile and said "Surprise!"; that every day, I wake up and for that split of a second, thought that the reality was nothing but a bad dream, and the memory of you was the wonderful reality.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
100...
Pages!
That's the milestone the Evelyn novel reached this morning! And so, in celebration style, I thought I'd give a little excerpt. This is sort of a reunion scene between Evelyn and her ex-boyfriend...
He had abandoned his station before fully realising it, moving almost soundlessly across the divide of the lounge room, his hand itching to purposely slither across her stomach, the way he had done countless times… before.
“Still taking your coffee white with one sugar?” Evelyn asked, head cocked to one side, both eyes still trained on the pouring hot water.
You remember! Nicholas rejoiced silently, his heart fluttering with giddiness he couldn’t fathom he almost couldn’t refrain from leaping across to hug her tight.
He repressed the notion, though the fluttering in his stomach grew a thousand times more powerful as, receiving the proffered white porcelain mug, the tips of his fingers had lightly brushed her curled knuckles.
He kept both eyes trained on her as they quietly sipped their hot drinks, in her eyes were the same nostalgic expression he was currently feeling; having both come from such highly demanding jobs, always travelling to all four corners of the world to deal with circumstances that were sometimes so far fetched to be comprehended by the minds of ordinary civilians, they had revelled in the rare chances of performing simple tasks every normal human being had undertaken as part of their routine.
“Supposed we’d better get back to it?” Evelyn suggested, gesturing to the scattered papers covering the surrounds of the lounge room carpet with a slight tilt of her head.
She reached out, wanting to take way the mug from his grasp. Instead, she found her hand tightly clasped in his, her back, already pressed to where the two corners joined on the L-shaped bench, preventing her from moving away as Nicholas stepped closer.
“I want to know why,” he demanded, standing no greater than half-an-inch before her.
“Nick…” She implored.
“I deserve to know why,” he corrected himself. “And that note doesn’t count.”
A light crimson colour rose to Evelyn’s cheeks, moments before she ducked her head down, concealing her face from his close examination.
Aware that she was about to walk out two weeks before their one year anniversary, her guilt and remorse compounded by the realisation that despite her haunted past, their relationship had actually bloomed and thrived, Evelyn flung the door she was about to close wide open, strode back in and wrote a hasty note.
It’s not you. It’s me. Forget me, Nick. You deserve to move on with your life.
That's the milestone the Evelyn novel reached this morning! And so, in celebration style, I thought I'd give a little excerpt. This is sort of a reunion scene between Evelyn and her ex-boyfriend...
He had abandoned his station before fully realising it, moving almost soundlessly across the divide of the lounge room, his hand itching to purposely slither across her stomach, the way he had done countless times… before.
“Still taking your coffee white with one sugar?” Evelyn asked, head cocked to one side, both eyes still trained on the pouring hot water.
You remember! Nicholas rejoiced silently, his heart fluttering with giddiness he couldn’t fathom he almost couldn’t refrain from leaping across to hug her tight.
He repressed the notion, though the fluttering in his stomach grew a thousand times more powerful as, receiving the proffered white porcelain mug, the tips of his fingers had lightly brushed her curled knuckles.
He kept both eyes trained on her as they quietly sipped their hot drinks, in her eyes were the same nostalgic expression he was currently feeling; having both come from such highly demanding jobs, always travelling to all four corners of the world to deal with circumstances that were sometimes so far fetched to be comprehended by the minds of ordinary civilians, they had revelled in the rare chances of performing simple tasks every normal human being had undertaken as part of their routine.
“Supposed we’d better get back to it?” Evelyn suggested, gesturing to the scattered papers covering the surrounds of the lounge room carpet with a slight tilt of her head.
She reached out, wanting to take way the mug from his grasp. Instead, she found her hand tightly clasped in his, her back, already pressed to where the two corners joined on the L-shaped bench, preventing her from moving away as Nicholas stepped closer.
“I want to know why,” he demanded, standing no greater than half-an-inch before her.
“Nick…” She implored.
“I deserve to know why,” he corrected himself. “And that note doesn’t count.”
A light crimson colour rose to Evelyn’s cheeks, moments before she ducked her head down, concealing her face from his close examination.
Aware that she was about to walk out two weeks before their one year anniversary, her guilt and remorse compounded by the realisation that despite her haunted past, their relationship had actually bloomed and thrived, Evelyn flung the door she was about to close wide open, strode back in and wrote a hasty note.
It’s not you. It’s me. Forget me, Nick. You deserve to move on with your life.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Welcome Back, My Friend...
You've been away from my mind for far too long than I would have liked you to.
I am, of course, talking about my mojo - my writing mojo, to be exact. After the mentioned dry spell about two posts ago, I found myself sitting on the dining table on Friday night, vigorously writing without a care in the world whilst Fred was fixing my Mac. It was an exercise that didn't see me hit the sack until 3 the following morning, but by then, I have already managed to cross off two sections of my list.
By the time Sunday rolled over (yes, am still loving that expression), I was well and truly in my element, writing almost as fast as the inspiration would bounce around in my head, ignoring Arnie's battle with 'Predator' (not that I was watching it in the first place anyway...)
And, because I don't work in a linear process whatsoever, I am currently working on sections that aren't listed on the 'Penned Mission' (soon to be rectified). And am hoping, that this will continue for a bit and that I will be able to make a significant dent on Evelyn's novel.
I am, of course, talking about my mojo - my writing mojo, to be exact. After the mentioned dry spell about two posts ago, I found myself sitting on the dining table on Friday night, vigorously writing without a care in the world whilst Fred was fixing my Mac. It was an exercise that didn't see me hit the sack until 3 the following morning, but by then, I have already managed to cross off two sections of my list.
By the time Sunday rolled over (yes, am still loving that expression), I was well and truly in my element, writing almost as fast as the inspiration would bounce around in my head, ignoring Arnie's battle with 'Predator' (not that I was watching it in the first place anyway...)
And, because I don't work in a linear process whatsoever, I am currently working on sections that aren't listed on the 'Penned Mission' (soon to be rectified). And am hoping, that this will continue for a bit and that I will be able to make a significant dent on Evelyn's novel.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
I am...
Stumbled upon this from Casa Del Talimack and thought I'd give it a go...
Outside my window... It’s not exactly my window, it’s work’s window I’m gazing at, and I can see clear blue sky with tree leaves ‘dancing’ against the wind.
I am thankful for... the fact that I am actually being given another day to make the most out of life.
I am wearing... a long top I bought in Jakarta, calf-length jeans and black-heeled open-toed shoes.
I am remembering... the Director of this Centre, taken away from us way too quickly a month ago. RIP Neil.
I am creating... calendar appointments for my bosses’ school visits.
I am going... quietly insane at the thought that there are so many things to do and not enough time in a day to do it...
I am reading... Lonely Planet’s guide book to New York.
I am hoping... that I can move into my new Arts & Crafts room by this weekend.
On my mind... is a million things bombarding me all at once; will less than five months enough time to summarise the NY book, when am I ever gonna finish my novels, I need more time in a day to declutter our entire house, who’s the new Director for the centre going to be. Just to name a few...
From the kitchen... I hear nuttin’!
Around the house... Is a bomb site - everything that needs to be sorted and rearranged – currently there is a queen bed and frame standing in the middle of our family room!
One of my favourite things... is my iTouch – can’t live without it no more.
Noticing that... You gain more energy by exercising.
Pondering these words... ‘when one door closes, another opens’
Outside my window... It’s not exactly my window, it’s work’s window I’m gazing at, and I can see clear blue sky with tree leaves ‘dancing’ against the wind.
I am thankful for... the fact that I am actually being given another day to make the most out of life.
I am wearing... a long top I bought in Jakarta, calf-length jeans and black-heeled open-toed shoes.
I am remembering... the Director of this Centre, taken away from us way too quickly a month ago. RIP Neil.
I am creating... calendar appointments for my bosses’ school visits.
I am going... quietly insane at the thought that there are so many things to do and not enough time in a day to do it...
I am reading... Lonely Planet’s guide book to New York.
I am hoping... that I can move into my new Arts & Crafts room by this weekend.
On my mind... is a million things bombarding me all at once; will less than five months enough time to summarise the NY book, when am I ever gonna finish my novels, I need more time in a day to declutter our entire house, who’s the new Director for the centre going to be. Just to name a few...
From the kitchen... I hear nuttin’!
Around the house... Is a bomb site - everything that needs to be sorted and rearranged – currently there is a queen bed and frame standing in the middle of our family room!
One of my favourite things... is my iTouch – can’t live without it no more.
Noticing that... You gain more energy by exercising.
Pondering these words... ‘when one door closes, another opens’
A Darker Turn...
I am slowly (say that very slowly, pun intended) getting back to my writing, though for reason(s) I can't fully fathom, my inspiration doesn't seem to 'stick' in my brain for long and I have, lately, more often than not, scrambling for a brilliant idea I had had just a moment ago only to stare blankly at the blank paper.
I am currently focussing heavily on the 'Evelyn' novel (huffing slightly here because it means I'm neglecting Michael & Lizzy, which was... oh-so-close to being wrapped up). And Evelyn turned out to be the darkest novel I've ever attempted so far.
Not witchcraft stuff, I don't think I'd ever dwelve into that genre. But, compared to Eleanor and Elizabeth, my previous main characters, Evelyn had the darkest, most haunted past. Her profession was one that required her to be fit and able to take a punch (I hope I didn't give away too much there...), as well as delivering one back. And as a consequence, I find myself searching deep into the soul of a villain, researching the various ways he could inflict the most unimaginable pain to his targeted victim. I find myself thinking of synonyms of 'sending a blow', refusing to write 'punch' and 'kick' for the umpteenth time.
I am currently focussing heavily on the 'Evelyn' novel (huffing slightly here because it means I'm neglecting Michael & Lizzy, which was... oh-so-close to being wrapped up). And Evelyn turned out to be the darkest novel I've ever attempted so far.
Not witchcraft stuff, I don't think I'd ever dwelve into that genre. But, compared to Eleanor and Elizabeth, my previous main characters, Evelyn had the darkest, most haunted past. Her profession was one that required her to be fit and able to take a punch (I hope I didn't give away too much there...), as well as delivering one back. And as a consequence, I find myself searching deep into the soul of a villain, researching the various ways he could inflict the most unimaginable pain to his targeted victim. I find myself thinking of synonyms of 'sending a blow', refusing to write 'punch' and 'kick' for the umpteenth time.
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