haze-hate

i hate the haze. As if the burning smell were not enough, it makes the air feel charred and brittle, and your eyes and nose and throat feel like they're perpetually on the brink of drying out. You feel so desiccated.
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i hate this. Dear Gott im Himmel please let things be better in Germany and the US. Please let the air there be fresh.
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then the letting go

This process of giving away my dad's books is turning out to be harder than i thought. It's not just about wanting to hoard things, or to keep a physical remembrance of things past, although that is definitely a big part of it. i think what makes it so hard to let these books go is the knowledge that they are an important part of Singapore's cultural heritage, and of my own family history; and the corresponding knowledge that i know so little of this past that has made me, in part, who i am.
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This is all rather silly, i guess. If the books are going to a library, then so much the better for our cultural heritage. And i can always go look them up if i want to learn about my family history. i guess i just find it hard to let the past go, and to let go of things that i don't understand. To let go of the questions. It's a lesson i need to learn.
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in transit

Just so looking forward to the break, to the change. It does feel rather like a chapter is closing -- although i'm not sure yet what exactly this chapter has been about. And i still don't know what's next. i don't even really know what the next few months will bring. All i know is that i've been in "this place" (whatever "this place" is) for long enough, and it's time to move on.

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ich liebe Deutschland

i'm gonna fall in love with Deutschland. i just know it. i know it the same way i knew that i'd get a poem out of Norway, the same way i knew that we were gonna end up microwaving a lizard at home one day, the same way i knew i wanted to go to the JC i eventually went to. It's a gut level thing, deep and visceral. i'm gonna go to Germany, and not want to come back.
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harry potter

i'm convinced that the right books find us at the right time. Or we find the right books at the right time. Just when we're ready for them.

So i've been reading Harry Potter. i tried reading the first 2 books years ago, but was distinctly underwhelmed. This time, however, i'm finding the books absolutely captivating. And i'm convinced it's because of where i am in life now. i see so much more than just a story about a bunch of teenagers and adults doing stuff with magic.

That JK Rowling is an amazing writer. A gripping plot, three-dimensional characters whom you grow to care about, a gentle, subtle humour, and so much life wisdom. How old was she again when she wrote the series?

Bloody brilliant.
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a sort of homecoming

Writing is a homecoming for me. It keeps happening -- everytime i stop writing, everything else in my life starts going pear-shaped. i feel un-centred, out at sea, unanchored. It's the same whenever i stop praying. Then the moment i start sitting down to write again, it feels as if all the disparate bits of my life, all the disparate pieces of who i am, can finally be gathered into one and made coherent, or, at least, i can start making something of it that may eventually start to cohere.
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It keeps happening. i'm too well aware of the price i pay in order to write; the sacrifice i have to make in terms of time and energy, and solitude, spending time alone. And because of that, i shy away from it -- yet doing so just makes things worse. How long before i finally learn my lesson and actually settle down to write the things i know i have to write?
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Sigh. It's so human, innit, to take too long to learn.
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tired

Tired. So tired. Not physically, but mentally, emotionally. i will be so glad to see some mountains, forests, and lakes in April, breathe in some fresh mountain air.
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