Pink Smoke, Like Plastic Bags

I believe in the power of having good thoughts.

Imagine them coming out of your pores like pink smoke

and twirls around your body before dispersing into the universe.

I believe in good thoughts, I do.

Imagine them like plastic bags dancing on air

and they float and fly where the wind takes them.

I believe the good thoughts will return, somehow.

Imagine them catching unto something or someone

and bringing them hope, love and making wishes come true.

I believe in good thoughts, I do.

Loose Thread

So as usual, I had a story in my head. And because I didn't make the effort to capture it, it flew away. Liz Gilbert said in her TED gig that you have to take hold of the that loose end of an idea, tug and pull it towards you. It will fall away like a loose thread from a knitted sweater, and you have to be quick to keep tugging to gather the thread in to a ball of creative energy. Otherwise… the idea, the story will end up in a messy heap on the floor, and you will wail in despair when you realise it could've been gathered and turned into something possibly beautiful.

What's stopping me then?

Battle of Wills

I will not feel regret.

I will not feel down.

I will not feel disappointed.

I will not give up.

I will not doubt myself.

I will not be dormant.

I will not be invisible.

I will be heard because I have something to say.

I will move forward because I have somewhere to go.

I will believe in myself because I am good enough.

I will do more because I can.

I will be grateful because I am lucky.

I will be joyful because there is much to be loved.

I will continue to be hopeful because there will always be change.

There will be love, faith, laughter and many, many happy days.

Faking It

When I stared at my TBR (half collapsing) book self, there were tough choices to make. Which ones will I pick for this 'trip'? Which ones will give me comfort for the first couple of months at least? Which ones will help me take the pressure off? Which ones will take me to another world?

It was a naturally choice to start with Peter Carey's My Life As A Fake to begin my journey with. It is Peter Carey after all, you can't go wrong. The Frankenstein inspired storyline, set both in Kuala Lumpur (the city I'm leaving) and Melbourne (the city I shall be calling my new home) is apt for my transition, I thought.

It has thus far gave me a peace of mind through two chilly sleepness nights.

A new life beckons nevertheless. I need to get on with it.

Books, my loves, can only do so much.

A Picture Hides a Hundred Things

She seems to reek of happiness. The new house, the cute baby, the sports car, the great teaching job, the loving husband with his own successful IT consultancy business. They do paint a pretty picture. Everything looks so perfect, so grand. And there you are, wondering if she really had it all.

The scene behind the picture is not always what it seems.

His sudden burst of temper. His questioning of her competency. She doubts if she's a good mother. The growing distance between them that he doesn't acknowledge. And yet, he pushes the invisible gap wider and wider. She reaches out and he backs off. She back offs and he turns away. He is always right, and if she thinks he isn't then it is she who doesn't understand. She says sorry, too often. The baby cries, he snaps, yells, and on a few occasions raised his hand ready to slap. She begs of him to help her, to seek help, to help them both, to save themselves. He looks away.

Bruised ego, lost identities. But they do paint a pretty picture, they do.

Wondering

I'm dragging my feet. And I can't say I'm ready or not.

It's a big deal. Uprooting myself and wondering if I will make it there. Have I grown beyond the age of making trying new things, getting a new job, making new friends, working hard, and trying to find my way? I should be 'settled' already, shouldn't I? Then why am I still seeking? What am I looking for? Who am I?

Somewhere out there, there will be people who will give me this -_- look and think "What a loser!". Do I care? Should I care?

I suppose if there is no fear, there would be no purpose to lead this life. To keep trying to find that right path to take. To want to get it right for yourself. There will be heartbreaks, that's for sure. Disappointments. Self loath. But if you try and take risks, there will also be bright sparks, if you care to look.

And hope. There's always hope.

Moving On

Melbourne or Sydney?

Culture, Cool factors... Change.