September blues

I miss myself. 
How I'd kick my feet up and read a book.
How I'd play Billie Holiday in the evenings with a glass of red wine.
How time was distributed equally between family, friends and myself.
How my fingers felt with paints all over them.
The way they felt after the pencil left a dent from drawing.
How I spent three hours in the morning working out.
How I seemed to have plenty of things to blog about.
And how I was getting quite good at keeping this space up to date.
How I took lots of photos.
How I dreamt of other things except work.
And how I had that extra large glass of vodka with friends with no guilt.
Why is this guilt even here? 


I miss seeing the kids all day.
How I had them by my side while I worked.
How I was there for every 'first'. So far I've missed most of hers.
How I ate lunch with them and not at my desk.
How I never counted hours before I saw them.
And how I didn't have to miss them so much.

It's been six months. 

So perhaps it's the six month blues.

So maybe this is all it is. 

Or maybe I just need a break. 

Because I'm tired. Really f**king tired.

But words are things, and a small drop of ink ...

"But words are things, and a small drop of ink, 

Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces 

That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

                                                  - George Byron

I'm writing again. Not pressing keys beneath my fingertips. Not watching words move across the screen as they come through my head. Not seeing letters disappear one at a time with one delete button as I decide the line didn't make sense and wasn't even worth keeping on the screen.

Writing.

Pen and ink.

Remnants of the blackness of the ink and a slight dent on my right ring finger from pressing too hard. 

Embossed paper, the depth of the letters causing a slight curl to the page.

 I trace my hand on the back of the page that was just written on and the familiarity of it all is overwhelming. Its the same feeling I get when I finish drawings, the same rush of emotions, the same creative satisfaction. And yet, my journal has been sitting on my shelf, untouched for a year. March 2011. That was my last entry. We are now into March of 2012 and my pages are still blank. Too many excuses, too little writing. That is an overpowering description of procrastination if you ask me. Either that or I made up to many excuses about not having the time to write. Perhaps I needed that time away, perhaps I needed to find the voice or perhaps I had nothing adequate to say. Or perhaps words weren't what I needed to focus on last year. 

Pen and ink. 

It's definitely essential for these elements to be a monumental part of my year.

 I know it.

For Blogging from the Heart.

monday morning insight.

sourced from pinterest.

dancing on the edge of the earth

first shared here.

stop.look. listen.

stop look and listen. 

his heart dances in wonder when light shines on his little playground.

his eyes sparkle when the water falls through his fingertips.

stop look and listen.

his lips are blue from wanting to hold onto his ordinary moment that 

isn't actually that ordinary in his eyes.

his brave soul lowers him to that last step.

stop look and listen.

because if you don't, you'll miss it all.

Cotton candy wisps of white

They dance beneath me, those cotton candy wisps of white.

laying still on the surface, the feathery streaks;

A galaxy of stars.

Or billowed smoke that sits frozen in time.

As if they could softly catch me if I fell onto their pillowed niche.

-me 

August 2011

self portrait for photo mediations 4.1

broken down but not defeated.

It's been a bad week, and today I felt completely broken down and powerless.  

Screw you for making me feel this way. 

I like to be challenged but I don't like to be tested.

I like to be pushed but I don't like to be provoked.

I like to to be constructively critisised but I hate being offended.

I believe wisdom comes with age but I don't believe that age allows superiority.

I like to be fair but I don't like it when I am taken for granted.  

There are limits. 

They have been surpassed.

And I'm kinda over it.

Then I realise how much my career means to me.

But how much more do I cower to save face? 

And is saving face really worth the cower? 

monday morning reminder

daydreamin'

 

the sixth and seventh

Three days.

Four cities. 

Loneliness amongst hundreds of faces.

Silence among thousands of voices.

Handful of hours.

But with no time at all. 

Three days.

Four cities.

see what day five and six of August Break 2010 was like.

inner voice

 first seen here:

when words mean more than you know

millions and millions of years 
would still not give me half enough time 
to describe that tiny instant of all eternity 
when you put your arms around me
and i put my arms around you.

jacques prevert

wednesdays words

I'm not too sure where I first saw this, but I remember reformatting it on photoshop and printing it out.

and as I looked through my files today, I found it.

Good morning, Manila. I think it really may be alright.

wednesdays words

 

Words from Elizabethtown movie

via Quotebook on Tumblr. 

perched on top of a hill watching the world below me

 

Last night I dreamt that I was on the edge of the earth. 

I walked across a path up top a hill in the country, where the edge seemed so close, as if i would fall should I have lost my balance.

Last night I dreamt of the ocean.

The silver tipped waves reflected back at me, and I sat with my feet hanging off the paths edge, as if my toes could reach out all the way to the middle of the sea.

Last night I dreamt of the salt water air brushing my cheeks as I hiked along the gravelled road down towards the beach.

The air was soft and delicate, as if I would miss its touch if I closed my eyes for one minute.

Last night I dreamt of walking on the shore.

My footsteps barely left prints, ones that were muted by the wet sand that touched my feet. I walked as if there was no end to the stretch ahead of me.

Last night in my dreams, there was tranquility. 

Last night in my dreams, it was so real.

as if i was truly there.

i keep coming back

dear manila,

oh, how you frustrate me sometimes.

and at times how you anger me, how you have people who discriminate through religion, how some people judge you because of what you believe in, how you have people who look down on their own nation,  how you have people who don't believe in your capabilities in being a country that can thrive, and how you have people that cannot see your potential to do so.

but i know that beyond all of this, there is something there. something that allows me to believe that there are people out there who have not given up on you. there are people who trust that you are what they need in their lives. there are people there that believe you are the place where they can be someone, a place where they can be successful and a place where they can be whoever they want to be.

they are the ones who believe beyond the frustrations.

they are the ones who left first world countries to share their international education with their countrymen.

they are the ones who share hard earned knowledge with you.

they are the ones who come back home.

they are the ones who believe in you. maybe you can begin to believe in them too.

the way it is

For when the world gives you tomorrow, you're gonna learn to live again

If you place a thing into the center of your life

That lacks the power to nourish

It will eventually poison everything that you are

And destroy you

A simple a thing as an idea

Or your perspective on yourself of the world

No one can be the source of your content,

It lies within, in the center.

Only with mellow while your thin enough to slide through

Only with mellow while your thin enough to slide through

Don't let nothing ride you.

If the sun or the moon should keel away to die,

They would immediately go out .

One.

Swallow don't make a sound,
But tomorrow has to start somewhere.

Newspapers entertain,

Lion Tamers die in pain

This Child wise beyond words

Whose tears flow without seize

Newspapers entertain,

Lion Tamers die in pain

This child wise beyond words

Whose tears flow without seize

When there's no where, left to run to

Let me come to you, let me help you down

For when the world, gives you tomorrow

You're gonna learn to live again

We can learn to go,

Oh learn as we go

Just to live, for the day

I know it's hard, to live for the moment

Just try, anyway

-Faithless

finding her

 December 10 –  Wisdom. What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out? (Author: Susannah Conway)

i thought i had lost her.

emotionally raw. emotionally out of sync.

then the year became about my wisdom of acceptance. accepting who i had become, who this new person was replacing her.

it became about my  wisdom of understanding. the understanding that things were supposed to be exactly the way they were.

it became about my wisdom of patience.  knowing that if i waited patiently but looked hard enough she would resurface.

it became about my wisdom of strength. about embracing the courage as it swelled, about rejoicing as the walls broke down, and about celebrating the bravery as it intensified.

so my wisest decision yet?

finding her again.

and realising that it finally became about the wisdom of

chosing to be me again.

the 100th post

Jump, and you will find out how to 

unfold your wings as you fall.

Ray Bradbury