my days stop and start and stop and start

its been a fitful few days (thankfully with no drama), just an update on c’s life and happenings:

1. mango is very ill, her weak stomach has finally given into a full-blown “if she still can’t eat properly we have to admit her and put her on a drip”, which has left the family frantic to make sure she eats. the past few days have been great, since dad is personally cooking her rice+beef+an egg every meal. he personally went to buy her beef chunks from takashimaya and diced them into bite sized portions for his golden retriever. she is on 6 different medications (including iron tablets) because she needs to replenish her blood (the vet says she’s very pale, judging by the color of her nose and her gums (brown and white respectively). but she is healtier today, jumping and finishing her meals. which is good. (trouble is now, cooper doesnt want to eat his regular dog-fare because he can smell what goes into her bowl)

2. viwawa. hooked. enough said. sighhh.. i’m too old for this. (my wawa however is a little oriental geisha type looking girl)

3. little booby (otherwise known as the prefect) and i went down to kino the other day and each picked out a book (we were only allowed one, given she’s in the middle of her tests and i have tons on my plate). hers had gore and blood all over the cover whereas, i picked out a book that looked like this:

whoever said “never judge a book by its cover” hasn’t met me, i’m very attracted to these asian cultural books–think japan, india, china (period type books). anyway, this was kind of like a compromise because i realised i’ve read most of the murakami (no, he’s a man. not a lady) (no, i am not particularly a fan of his “weak-men, strong-but-screwed-up-women” theme that seems to run through all his books, but certain people, ahem, i know (who will never admit it) are constantly searching my room for his books to read) and the ha jin books. and this was the next book that caught my eye.

the synopsis makes it sound like a romance novel. but i recognise her name : Lesley Downer, the writer who actually trained to be a geisha in her research. (how cool is that!) and i watched her documentary on the “lost japan” something something–cannot remember its full name.

but honestly, it was very intriguing, the kind that makes you tear up without realising, and makes you catch your breath in poignancy because the characters just become so real you feel like you’re in the middle of the battle field with them all, trudging through the heaps of dead soldiers.

i loved the poems infused into it:

‘From long ago
Though I had heard to meet
Could only mean to part
Yet I gave myself to you
Forgetful of the coming dawn.’

it is nothing of romance, but really about love and social conventions, and one’s rightful place in society. given the writer’s background it was very historically sound as well. it was about war, and loss and dignity, even in death. it was about hope, and despair, and waiting, and the fever that feeds off the minds of the oppressed. it was about new opportunities and old ways. it was about samurais and ronins and shoguns. 

but the romantic in me, remembers one particular paragraph and  it stirs itself into my mind:

“i wish i knew how to say it in your language, but there isn’t any word for it. it is not affection, like a man feels for his parents, or respect, like a man of your country feels for his wife, or lust that a man feels for a courtesan. it is more than those, much more. it is the feeling that binds a man to a woman for ever. in my language we call it rabu —“love”. that is what i feel for you.”

4. 3 am, and i can’t sleep–again. and school beckons from 12 noon till 7, not fun at all, especially not when everyone else is running off and rolling in the dirt.

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c

my world, out of your reach

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