a Journey

I used to think that “Princess” was Papa’s domain on nicknames for me. That was until Lama decided to take out a space on it too. I guess, I started to become more accustomed to hearing someone else call me "P*".

Later on, when Mister M told me, in rather embarrassed hushed tones, that he actually wanted to call me  “Little P*” I had to giggle. Even after much prodding (“Hunny, was it because you had to sleep on the couch?”) he still couldn’t articulate just what about me inspired him to call me that.

And when Mister Libre said “P*” spontaneously as we were driving to school, I looked out at the cars zooming past us and laughed.

I thought back to all those times I dashed for the phone each time it rang, just so Papa won’t get to it before I did. Just so he couldn’t holler, “P*, your call!” I am certain he derived great satisfaction seeing my foam at the mouth from embarrassment as I stuttered “Hello?” into the phone.

Most times, the other party was convulsed with laughter and had the tendency to mimic in a high falsetto “Princessssss!” It usually took about five minutes for coherence to return. Even in school, the teachers who were close to me, they knew the nickname Papa gave me.

Now, “P*” is only used for special occasions – rare and oft-missed. I may have outgrown the constant “P*” phase, but I know she’s still inside me. The girl who fiercely stood up (and sometimes fought) for those she loved; the trust she placed in those she called her “inner circle”; the gullibility, the impulsiveness; the stubbornness; the insecurities and vulnerability – they’re still there.

I overdid the caffeinne (again?) today. But hey, at least this blog gets updated! ;)

Anyway, the term break has rolled round once again, and I'm trying to wonder how I lost track of time (again?). This semester, is the last structured one I'll be having in a long while, and yet, I can't wait to be rid of it in a way. I can't seem to remember what it was like to study (the way I ought to), and I'm not too sure if it's the 3 months worth of hols that contributed to it.

I think, the power of change is under-estimated. Yeah, I belive that change is the only constant in Life; but I realized I never really internalized this... till... I'm not even sure if it has been, even after all that has happened. But I know now that time, sometimes, really is but a number.

A moment is just as powerful as years. Or at least, it can be. We could attach years to a relationship/friendship and all it takes is a moment of folly or stupidty or weakness... and everything gets flushed down the chute -- and all that remains after that, might just be the memory of the moment of betrayal. A moment that robbed and burnt everything that the years had built. Perhaps. I don't know. But I'm really tempted to test this theory, against my better judgement; I shan't.

Fir is back (yipiee!). Good. I'm starting to find my feet again. And the last thing I want to do is to be jew-ed out of time that ought to be spent. And I'll be dam*ed if I don't start treating those who deserve better from me, better (for lack of a better word?).

I have this phoenomenal ability to create screw-holes in things where none should exist to begin with. But I'll be damn*ed if I don't learn anything from the scabs (from falling down those pits).

I won't let the past burn because they're a part of me. I won't take the easy way out (or is it really?), because memories can't burn at whim. But I'm starting to walk again, and the scars shall stay as a reminder of my mistakes -- that I will not repeat.

It's been such a tiring fortnight, right now, all I want to do is to pay my body back for all the times that I cheated it of sleep via all sorts of unnecessary means. Like the cuppas of coffee that I've grown a wee bit too affectionate with and accustomed to. Although I don't want to say it; I know what I've become. An add*ct. Even tea doesn't come close.

But right now, as I'm taking a breather from work (learning how to do data coding for the mass of focus group discussions that has been done -- is this even English to you?), I'd give anything for a bed, soothing music & a lovely purr-inducing cat nap. I am exhausted. Even tired doesn't come close. And the body has done nothing but confirm this fact for me with a bout of sore throat and now, fever. Right-ho.

All I want is to sleep. Sleep everything away. Sleep away the decisions that must be made, the projects, the deadlines and the way I keep missing my dearies. I hope I can survive this month decently. It's too early in the school term to be THIS tired/exhausted.

Right now, I wish I was somewhere serene & isolated. An island of blue skies and white waves. No man is an island, yes. But sometimes, we all need our little getaway.

We were talking about love once, and I realized that I learnt to love not through some great fairytale romance, but through the love that people have shown me through time.

Like when your best friend says: "It's alright, I'm here for you. Don't worry, things will turn out fine." instead of a well-deserved "I told you." And you know she's saying the words that you can't say, and she doesn't mind saying it alone without your open support, because she knows you need your emotions to be acknowledged. But just not from yourself. After almost a decade of friendship, she still hangs on through all the roller coaster rides you put her through. A reluctant passenger but a fiercely loyal friend.

And your brother tells you not to "say shi*te like that" when you turn emo on him for being such a basket case and troublesome sister. And you know that you ought to have got smacked but all he can say is: "I've never judged you. I only interfere if I think it will affect your happiness ten years down the road."

Even more so, when your dad drives an hour through peak hour traffic, just to pick you up from your crummy campus on a rainy Wednesday. To top it off, he drives back another hour just so you can have your favourite dinner at a rackety place near your old childhood place. And he doesn't complain; only thinking of how you can save time travelling so you can enjoy home comforts more.

So, despite all this talk about "great romances": Those would mean nothing if I hadn't first learnt the meaning of love through them. After all, how can we build a house without a foundation? How can we learn to love if we weren't shown love?  

when all you can look forward to is the routine of work. the mind-numbing, spirit-draining nature of assingments and projects which actually appeals because it is something that is familiar. and so you do not have to adapt.

when the heart has gone numb, because to feel would take away too much of what you can now afford.

when the answer that you've been waiting for finally arrives, packaged as a cyclone which blows away that little piece of resignation that you once held as your makeshift peace.

when you realize that life can be an ironic joke and you just silently shrug your shoulders and hunch a little lower in preparation for the load that will be coming your way.

when you're feeling under the weather, but the cappucinno you drank hours before just won't quit your system to give you your rest.