Reflections

There were many times when i started a post only to see it getting more and more depressive. I could've posted it and probably start a chain of pessimistic ones thereafter. Instead, i chose to delete them. Or maybe, as a friend pointed out, perhaps i've already poured out my frustrations to friends in real life that there is no need to write them anymore. :)

Whatever it is, these past months have made me appreciate my friends even more than ever. So where i fail in gratitude, let me express it through this poem from Helen Steiner Rice.

~ ~ O ~ ~

My Thanks

People every in life
From every walk and station,
From every town and city
And every state and nation
Have given me so many things
Intangible and dear,
I couldn't begin to count them all
Or even make them clear
I only know I owe so much
To people every where
And when I put my thoughts in verse
It's just a way to share
The musings of a thankful heart,
A heart much like your own,
For nothing that I think or write
Is mine or mine alone
So if you found some beauty
In any word or line,
It's just "Your Soul's Reflection
in proximity with mine."

~ ~ O ~ ~

Hardly sync-ing... probably drowning

These past few weeks just hasn't been right. I've no appetite to eat. Food seem tasteless. I can't sleep and when i do, i wake up at the oddest hours. I get panic attacks over the most trivial things. Every day is like a 'salmon day' where all i seem to do is fight the currents to swim upstream and in the end, die... or feel as if i did. And the next morning, it starts all over again.

I seem clumsier than usual. I encounter time vacuums when i have absolutely no recollection of what i did. I repeat myself coz i can't remember if i've already said it or if i was planning to.
There are days when i find it difficult to concentrate on even the simplest of tasks. Nothing seems to sync anymore.

I go through days when i don't want to be alone. Yet i'm selective over who i want to be with. Maybe it's pure selfishness to just want friends around and not talk to them. Perhaps all i need is to know that there is someone there to pull me out of the water when i start to go under but not to prevent me from swimming. ;P

*glug... glug... glug...*

Love & coffee

One of the best smells to wake up to is fresh coffee brewing... and i'm sure many will attest to that. ;) Though a lot of my friends/colleagues find it strange that i feel more relaxed (and sometimes to a point..resembling a tranquilized elephant) after a cuppa while others take it to wake up/kick-start their otherwise dwindling 'engines'. What can i say? Caffeine has a different effect on me. :P

But as i thought about it, it is because of my grandmother. She was an early riser and one of the 1st things she would do was to brew coffee. No need for fancy coffee makers or some exotic beans. It was just good old hot water from the kettle and locally grounded coffee which we don't even have a name for. It started with her coming to wake me up for school after she finished making her coffee but after a while, it was the aroma wafting through the house that was enough to stir me from my slumber. For years, that same smell will greet me in the morning. :)

It's been a decade since she passed on. There are times when i will wake up and 'swear' i smell coffee brewing only to realize, she's not here anymore. It's only a figment of my imagination. :(

I don't drink coffee as often now. But once in a while, you will see me parked at a cafe (yes, probably Starbucks as some of you will quickly point out). Ok, especially when i'm tired or stressed. :P The smell of the cuppa does relax me. Even more, it's a reminder of the mornings i used to wake up to, knowing my grandmother was up & about and it's the start of a new day - another 'chance' to make a difference and be a blessing :)

But above all, it's the aroma of her love that still lingers... and i carry it with me, with or without coffee. :)

Dance of life

For as long as i can remember, i've been drawn to Dance. If there's one thing which i regret, it's that i never took classes when i was young. When watching dancers, whether live or in movies, they exude confidence.. poise.. style.. elegance - something which i often feel i lack. You can say it's not too late to learn now, but i know i don't have the discipline (and time) to follow through. My klutziness will probably do me more injury than good. :P

But as i sit here thinking about it, i realize that i have been 'dancing' all this time. Different days, different ways.. all moving to the rhythm of life. Some friends have moved on, to a different circle..a different beat and it's fine. There are times when i have to lead and times when i have to follow. Times when you don't have to have a partner but still move in tandem with the rest.

Once in a while, i will find myself standing alone, looking at the others twirling about me. Then someone will come along, extend a hand and remind me, it's only an interval. :) Sometimes they may stay on for the next dance, sometimes they don't.

So whether you have formal training or can only do the funky chicken dance... whether we can waltz through or just barely wing it...

Shall we dance?

A Pat, A Cake

I manage to catch up with Tara last week after not seeing her for a while. She was griping about the hours put into her job when others shirked their responsibilities, how her work goes unnoticed and that on one occasion when someone bought them cake, it was given to someone else instead. A few days later, Sim called to catch up over coffee and as we got to talking, the conversation seemed to take on the same theme. How unappreciative the bosses are... favouritism amongst colleagues... etc etc.

There have been numerous times when i know the management had to make difficult decisions yet the staff failed to see the reason of it. Instead of looking at how things can be improved, situations were treated with disgruntled murmurings. It made me wonder then, are these 'real issues' or merely a perception of things? Are we expecting pats on the back and rewards for everything we do? Perhaps the question should also be "Have we really done that well to deserve so?".

This is an excerpt from the movie The Devil Wears Prada which made me ponder:

Andy: No, I don't want to quit. That's not fair. But, I, you know, I'm just saying that I would just like a little credit... for the fact that I'm killing myself trying.

Nigel: Andy, be serious. You are not trying. You are whining. What is it that you want me to say to you, huh? Do you want me to say, "Poor you. Miranda's picking on you. Poor you. Poor Andy"? Hmm? Wake up, six. She's just doing her job. Don't you know that you are working at the place that published some of the greatest artists of the century? Halston, Lagerfeld, de la Renta. And what they did, what they created was greater than art because you live your life in it. Well, not you, obviously, but some people. You think this is just a magazine, hmm? This is not just a magazine. This is a shining beacon of hope for... oh, I don't know... let's say a young boy growing up in Rhode Island with six brothers pretending to go to soccer practice when he was really going to sewing class and reading Runway under the covers at night with a flashlight. You have no idea how many legends have walked these halls. And what's worse, you don't care. Because this place, where so many people would die to work you only deign to work. And you want to know why she doesn't kiss you on the forehead and give you a gold star on your homework at the end of the day. Wake up, sweetheart.

SIGH!!