3 am, stillness


its three in the morning, and while i know i should really have been asleep hours ago, part of me wants to stay up and stare out at the starless sky, out of my window. there is a stillness here in my little room, everyone else is sound asleep and there’s only the sound of the ceiling fan, and my fingers across the keyboard.

pixie had a bad dream, gave a yelp and darted out of her bed. walked to the water bowl, had a drink and settles back down in her bed. i walked over to give her a stroke and a noserub and tell her its alright. peps and bronco are sleeping shamelessly sprawled, on their backs, on the bed with us, oblivious.

oddly, new york nights pop into my head. when i’d sit by the window in the spare room because i’m reading and i didnt want to disturb dennis with the reading light. ever so often, every couple of minutes, there is a siren, or a toot from a car. the streetlamps, the headlights, the underlying noise of being in the city. i am thankful my room is blessed to be facing backyards, mine and the neighbours. it is silent and dark out there from my window.

how peaceful, how quiet this all is. calm. i want to forever remember this feeling of being at total peace with my lot. too many thoughts, phonecalls, responsibilities fill my days, it is only at night, at 3 am in the morning i realise i’ve finally wound down enough to rest. it is such a delight, to be able to be up this late, this quiet, this at ease with the world.

on nights like these, i whisper a prayer in thanks, that God gave me this quiet time of stillness. it is neither my right nor something i take for granted (also because i usually fall asleep in a state of disquiet), and i am thankful my God is an all-encompassing provider.


beach swings

photo credits: here

this was one of them surreal days, largely because i was half-asleep for most of it. it started out as a gentle night last night, till about midnight when the peace was broken. that also means i was steaming and stewing until 5, and then i had to be up in 2 hours to make it to our monthly 4 hour meeting.

denn laughs and says i just attract too much drama, why can’t i just go to bed peacefully and wake up peaceable, rather than waking up with a sore head; le sigh, i also dunno. i also want to just have a gentle goodnight and slip into oblivious sleep.

the rain, this morning and the sleep-warmed sheets did nothing to aid my rising out of bed. perfect morning, perfect sleep position, just imperfect timing.

so this gloomy day, i dream of a tree-swing, by the beach.

and plot and scheme how to convince my forever boyf to bring me to fiji.

Blink and you’d miss it, circa oct 15, 2008

blink and you’d miss it re-edited

she sat, perched on the backless stool, feet dangling off the ground. a sterile environment in an unsanitary room– daylight curtains whip up in a dance with the breeze, the sound of the twigs of the trees that gently taps on the window panes, her tulips sit pretty, their faces reaching and aching for her attention, the solitatary candle that fights to live.

her thoughts sit quietly uncoagulated, hush hush, so quiet that it becomes a raging deafening siren, its silent screaming mouth contorted in pain, and open so wide one can see the full length of its throat. slightly–blink and you’ll miss it– she tips her head closer to the surface of the silvery mist. a little closer, a bit more.

she angles. and a random thought hits her. do i want to know? and before she answers herself, like Alice in her beautiful blue gown and white apron, she very often give herself very good advice, and she very seldom follows it– her nose reaches the brink where the ripples form, and instantly she is surrounded by the white fog,and falling head first into a spiral, the dark, the bright, the abyss, the eden of the pensieve.


“i love you princess”
he leans in, kisses her hair, and whispers oh-so-quiet as she sleeps, and gathers her close. heart to heart, cheek to cheek that warm sunday tumbles into the crazy dreamy sleep– the haze that one can’t quite shake off, can’t quite rise above. when she blinks awake, she sees his sleeping form, like an angel with crazy hair. she knows only these kind of warm afternoon naps, the intensity of dizzy emotion that comes with one’s first true love. she reaches for his hand, and finding it already tucked in hers, tumbles back into sleep.
and tumbles again.

[curtain falls]


“then be it. be mine.”
he holds her close, running his hands down her back, frantic to stop the cascading tears, a sudden onslaught, her tourniquet snaps. wide eyed, poised for a blow, she snaps her head around and glares at him. and tries to wiggle out of his clutch, she bucks, shaking off his hold–only to find herself pinned down by the weight of emotions he lavishes on her. he held his precious still-beating heart in his eyes, pulsating with love and life. her own heart tripped over itself, and rode a little heart-carosel, but she couldn’t reach out and take it, she didnt. because she had nothing to exchange it with.

[curtain falls]


“you’ve always been the one i care most about”
they walked through the streets, hands occasionally brushing, he stops abruptly, takes the bags she was dragging behind her and lifts them like a feather. at the big screen they stop and laugh at something they both can’t remember now. he smells faintly of his shower, and grass. and is always warm. never cool, never cold. warm. everything about him smells of manly warmth. he reaches up, removes the tie that holds her hair in place, and ruffles it. she leans in, and thinks the world will crumble to dust one day, but he will hold up the sky for me. with him, she felt always secure, always protected. her guardian, her warrior– he guards her heart fiercely, not even daring to touch it for his own.

[curtain falls]


“you and me, we have a strange language that only you and i seem to understand”
every friday at 3 she boards the train in excitement. her uniform always in a disarray, she is frantically trying to tie her hair into a pony tail, when the train gives its beep signaling her destination. she knew he would be waiting for her, just like he said he would. a little dance in her steps she races to the top of the stairs, then sweeping a look behind her, pretends to be looking at her book, and nonchalant. she spots him, but pretends not to see as her folds and refolds the stack of papers he holds –every day he sits in the classroom, frantically scrawling on scraps paper for this moment that he can pass it to her. he in his white and blues, she in her blue and greys. they attract attention as they walk, and settle down in that familiar smell, which till this day reminds her of him, listen to the radio, eat at crumbs. he pulls out a half eaten pack of m&ms, and hands it to her. her heart gives a little gasp as she sees how he left her all the green ones.

[curtain falls]


“if love means to want to spend my waking moments with you then i love you”
she opens her locker, shocked, as potpourri comes pouring out, spilling all over her, and her bags, the floor. vanilla scented. and there it sits, beautifully cacooned in pot purri, the angel sleeps nestled in a little glass jar. hand-crafted, he claims, and made with you in mind. seeing the joy on her face, and the little dance her feet did, he reaches for her hand, and together they walk into the drizzle, not minding the wet, absorbed in the conversation and the look in the other’s eyes.
[curtain falls]


i want more than this. i won’t settle for anything less”

on this night she leans in and nestles in the hollow under his chin, wriggling, searching for warmth. he lays his hand on her thigh-bum, and half asleep he murmurs words, joint-up incoherent babble and pats his hand, just as he knows would bring her comfort even on restless nights. and quiet she slips into sleep, secured, held and knowing he’d be right here through the night and in the morning when she wakes.

[curtain falls]

gently, she tips back her head, and the world comes spinning back into focus, the buzzing dies out, and before her sits the gleaming sheen of silvery white. too many ghosts for a day. too many places revisited.

she realises now the rains have come and gone, she missed it all, but the smell lingers in the air. feeling scrapped raw, and yet at peace, frantic and yet numb. i guess this feeling’s called bittersweet.

my hufflepuff knows my heart


my hufflepuff and i have been friends since day one of primary school; i have to admit though, we weren’t always friends (those i-dont-friend-you-anymore days), but we’ve outgrown that, now that we’ve been friends some twenty years. (20 years, this year!!)

how much i love her, how much i do indeed.

ohh, we do have epic fights, and since both of us are the confrontational sort, it rarely lasts long. thank god.

and because she’s having a particularly difficult time adjusting back to school, i’ve been trying to send her cute pictures of cute animals on fb, which she doesn’t check.

thank you, for being there today, even if it was for an hour. i love this two-of-us-times. :))

i thought you forgot

photo credits: Lelove; quote by: Brian Andreas

see, i have a few guilty pleasures; one of which being reading lelove– it’s a repository of love stories, of break up hurts, of new-found love, of confessions one cannot utter otherwise. i love the raw emotions there, and i think some of those writers should write books rather than blogposts. it never fails to start the waterworks (you’ve been warned!).

so tonight, i valiantly went to bed at 7.30 pm; said goodnight to everyone and turned off all the lights in my bid to recuperate from an eventful and tiring weekend. i’m starting to look like a panda, literally. actually managing to fall asleep. 2 hours later, i’m up; i effectively took a 2 hr nap which means it will be a long time more before i actually go to bed for real this time. hence, trolling lelove.

what is your stand on “never letting you go” vs “i’ll let you go as far as you want, and when you’re ready to come back, i’m right here”? i struggle with this constantly. part of me never wanted to let my friends go too far, lest i lose sight of them, or more like they lose sight of me. part of me never wanted to let my sister grow up, lest i lose her to the pace of the world. part of me never wanted to let boyfs dabble into the wild life, lest they make a mistake i cannot forgive.

i don’t know if i’ve ever said it out loud, my greatest fear is abandonment.

hence the separation anxiety issues, which i am pretty sure i haven’t quite grown out of. if that makes me childish, so be it. but the truth is, i constantly worry about being left out, left behind, or left. and this extends to the parents, the forever boyf, the sisters, even to friends.

that’s why this quote is so utterly romantic to me.

i dont constantly have my loved ones on my mind. i don’t; i work and i have meetings and i need an enormous amount of celia-time. but when i get it in my head that something is not right, it becomes somewhat of an obsession to fix it, or to confront it, or to not-leave-it-alone. but these days, i’ve been trying to learn to just leave things be. leave it alone.  part of me feels though, i have to confess, this new modus operandi makes me feel like i’m losing myself.

sea dreams

i sit here at my control station, high above the rest of the world, imaginary and otherwise. sea-struck, sea-mad. the rages, the waves, the calm, the glassy. the hues of blue, black, green, grey. i often think, my idea of a perfect holiday, is snoozing in a hammock by the sea, sipping some fancy fruit juice in a curvy cup with one of them little paper umbrellas. and when i’ve got the little rivets in my flesh from being in the hammock and had my sleepful, i’ll run and dive off  a wooden deck into the sea, head first.

gloomy mondays were made for day dreams.

precious treasure


you see, at the end of the day, its the feeling of being treasured. by loved ones, by family, by friends. that feeling of being enveloped into the fold, of knowing deep down in your gut that your presence will certainly be missed and mourned if missed.

when your lover rushes to meet you, after he’s had a grueling day at work. when your friends insist in unison that you need to see a doctor before you even realize how frequent the episodes are getting. when family wakes you up to eat breakfast during their lunch because they have a surprise your-favourite-black-carrot-cake and couldn’t wait for you to see it.

there will come a time where it will pass, but i’m thankful its not now.