sometimes...

..i just don't know what is worthy of being written. Part of the pleasure of having a blog is just enjoying someone's readership, despite having nothing to write about. Life has been very confusing, and i've been feeling increasingly alone. Yet with the recognition that everyone else is probably feeling the same way. On this massive planet of other people who all feel alone as they make their daily decisions.

A cup of tea, I am craving a cup of tea :)

sprachelos

that's german for speechless. i have a very cool german vocabulary - snatched from bits of german lessons in high-school and brother's german gang of friends. that gang also incidentally drinks non-german beer and gets a very german high and starts singing self-confessedly bad german songs. its all actually rather cute.

but speechlessness... there's nothing to be said about it :)

have been going through a spell of bipolarity. was supposed to go to work today but ended up nervous at home. even got ready down to earrings, tied shoelaces, lunch in bag at the door. But at the final moment, turned around and sat at home. Seems I cannot face the 'world out there', so I am in here typing in the comfort of my apartment. its the least i can do...

i finally let life in...

..it was knocking on the door for so long. Or perhaps it was just silently waiting for me to acknowledge.

There are pictures on my wall, and postcards, and gifts. May 23rd was my birthday and I spent a magical 2 hours on the nile with friends. Felt like a child again, having all this much ado business just for me :) Just For Me - the friendship and laughter of friends, gifts such as bubble-maker, zong airflyer, jigsaw puzzle, noisy anklets among others that acknowledged the child within.

Now i know what to do when I am bored, just blow bubbles :)

O O O O :)

a poem

Introduction

Writing without emotion is quite difficult at this age, at this stage.
Maybe just one page without emotion will not be so hard a concoction.
Rhyming is such a bad, bad habit. I have not even begun
the story, and already poetry is such a distraction.

I step in the door, and already I slip. Is life full of warning?
I have been slipping the whole snowy way, this snowy day.
He is the first person I see, unbuttoning my coat.
The party has only just begun, very few people.
Only him, in a way, two others, and me with someone.

He greets when introduced, but I can tell he has not seen me.
Hello. How polite! And he only has eyes for her.
I do not remember when we all gathered in the kitchen, but we did,
And he told me he was a writer. And if his looks were not piercing enough,
That word signed my deal with Cupid - I’m trying metaphor not emotion.

I told him a story about writing. I actually gave him a metaphor.
He interrupted me once, to correct an inconsequential fact,
In the manner of literary scholars, “But I was certain that…”
Yet, knowing it only detracted from the point, was quiet.
I gave him a metaphor. I actually told him a story about writing.

And I could see then that he actually looked at me.
I looked at my wine glass. And we were properly introduced.
He was very attentive the rest of the evening.
I tried to be - I was - charming. And I even played it coy.
Anyone else could tell we were at it, except him and I.

- CK

Triptych

decided to go ahead and post up bits of my writing...

Triptych: a tri-partite work of art (how snobby of me to call this one :))

Sometimes when I stand on the wood-parquet between my bed and the bookshelf in my bedroom, I can hear creaks on the floor. As I sway, the parquet beneath me creaks. It reminds me that there is a space underneath, undiscovered. Have you ever lifted tiles, and found ants underneath, tens of ants, busy, living in an ecosystem unknown to you? It reminds me of stories that my grandmother told me, of people that found treasures buried in their houses, in corners, under floors, between bricks, in gardens, treasures with gold coins, precious stones, statues of gods. Treasures visited by snakes or ghosts. As the parquet wood creaks, I think of those treasures, and how I imagined how very possible it would be for me to find one such treasure.

My parents and I went to look at a house one, a villa sort of place that had a basement. My brother and I thought we could do some "Famous Five" sort of investigative work from the basement there. We already wanted it and we didn't have the house. We lived in an apartment, and it had a secret dark roof above the bathroom that was used as storage. We liked going there. I liked going there. I was of the few that could fit in that space to move in or out storage items. Sheets, extra luggage and so forth.

Once, my art teacher (HS) was very impressed by my abilities in graphology. He thought I could tell him something, just the way I search for psychics online thinking they could tell me something, something mysterious, interesting, something deep about me. Really, if I made a few calculations even I could predict some parts of my own future. I told him that from his writing I could tell he was very concerned about what other people thought about him. He was charmed. "How do you know that?" I wasn't very beguiling at that age, and I can never resist temptations of this sort. So I told him, "because you wrote 'read my handwriting and tell me what other people think of me.'"

i'm in blog heaven...

type type type :)

i want to be a lazy cat on a sunshine porch.

a song for every occasion

Both Sides Now

Rows and flows of angel’s hair
And icecream castles in the air
And feathered canyons everywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and they snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way.

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, but still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all.

Moon and Junes and Ferris wheels
That dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way.

But now it’s just another show
You leave them laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away.

I’ve looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, but still somehow
It’s love’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know love at all.

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say “I love you” right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day.

I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose, but still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all.

-- Joni Mitchell

**********************************************
as usual, friends sing the song in my heart :)
you know who you are.