Monday, February 25, 2008

An unusual feeling

At the moment, everything is going well. Things are not okay, things are good. There's plenty of little things, lots of school stuff and work and decisions to make and responsibilities and normal life stuff... but things are good. Steady. Constant.

School is great, work is good, my friends are little angels, I am selling prints. My family is good, I have enough time to be there for others... what more could I ask for?

For the first time in years I have a cushion to lean on, I can look back on the work I have done and be content.

Such a relief.

A little doodle to celebrate happiness. And lightness.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Last summer

Was a happy summer.

Idyllic!



Monday, February 18, 2008

The Delights of Morning Coffee

Mmmmh.


I really, really, really want it to be spring. NOW!

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Big Brown Bag

Just a quick little something to take my mind off the more important things in life.


Do you remember the innocent days?

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Losses.

No matter how hard I try, I keep hating changes. I hate our spelling reform, I still somewhat reject the Euro, I dislike new political coalitions. I hate that they built a new house next door and that my beautiful flower field is gone forever, I hated graduating from school and most of all, I hate losing things.

A friend of mine, S., suddenly stopped talking to me about two years ago. No matter how often I tried to contact her, she simply ignored me, didn't return my calls or respond to my messages. I thought to myself that we are no longer six years old, so if she has a problem with me I will just wait until she feels ready to bring it up. She never did. I still think of her a lot and it hurts so much to know that such a precious friendship was thrown out the window and I don't even effing know why. If she would tell me and give me a chance to explain and apologize for whatever I have apparently done to hurt her feelings, I would be okay and be able to move on, but this?

Can we move out of kindergarten now? Please?

I found old pictures of her today and cried. She was one of not too many precious friends I have, one who carried around with herself secrets I have never shared with anyone else. So do we really have to play pre school? We're both adults, can't we just sit down and talk it out whatever it is?

Gah, it's so frustrating.

Srebrenica

For a few years now, I have been passionate about volunteering for two local non-profits.

I am not going to deny, however, that I have been beyond slack. Sometimes I get caught up so much in my own silly little issues surrounding work and school that I feel bad for not having checked in for a while and end up staying completely under the radar.

But I have been good about getting into it again and have gone to a few meetings recently. Last Thursday, we met to to discuss upcoming projects and one associate of our group decided to show a film he made of a trip about his to Kosovo.

I have read about it. Seen it on the news. Followed the rise and fall of Milosevic. The attempts of prosecuting him before the Tribunal. The elections, the pros and cons of sovereignty. I know what happened in Kosovo and Yugoslavia in general.

But I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't prepared to see the ruins of houses of people I have met, of toddlers dying of lead poisening in UNHCR camps, of pictures of the green hills around Srebrenica.

It's moments like that when I feel nothing but utterly ashamed of living my life the way I do.


The green hills of Srebrenica.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Memories.

I am so busy right now that I hardly find time to breathe. When you're up till 4 am, working, and lying in bed wide awake by 8 am, you know something has to be wrong. I am trying so desperately to get my life under control again, making plans, sticking to the agenda, trying not to let things slide so the guilt that comes with procrastination doesn't constantly wash over me.

I am running to stay on track and yet it feels like my life is overtaking me and I am just sitting back watching time run out. This past year and the one that has just started are crucial for my future and are a crossroads of sorts, yet I don't give what I could and freeze from panic.

So I live through memories and wish I could run away as far as possible.

Monday, February 4, 2008

Decisions.

How do you know when it's time to move on? Whether it's time to seek closure, just walk away or work through the mess? Is it okay to seek the easiest alternative sometimes? To walk away without looking back?

It always hurts so much to give up something that we know will leave a hole in our hearts. So how do you deal with that?

I had a wonderful day with a friend today and when I took the train home, I decided to save the money for a cab and take the bus home instead. Standing around at the train station, I noticed that the light was on in my old dance studio. So I walked around the corner, telling myself the door would be closed. It was open. I asked a guy who came down carrying some stage equipment whether there was a play upstairs, and he told me they were just cleaning up.

This studio used to mean the world to me. It wasn't my second home, it was my home. I spent at least three days a week there, not only dancing, but hanging out, meeting friends, just living. The first time I walked through the doors was about ten years ago, and I immediately fell in love with the place. It is very vintage, friends of mine have referred to it as 'bohemian', in a not so flattering context. But it is, I guess, it lacks the sterile, distant atmosphere other studios have, it has black and white tiles, wooden floors, orange and pink walls, old posters all over, and everyone is like a family.

Four years ago, the place burned down. It broke my heart. As soon as the fire was extinguished, I went in to help with cleaning up and rescuing things, tech stuff, files, memorabilia.

But using torches because the lights were broken and the now black walls absorbed every tiny ray of light, wearing gas masks and carrying costumes, pictures and barres out to the roof to assess the damage... it no longer felt the same.

It must have been then that I distanced myself from it. I was at crossroads in my life anyway, and after a bad ankle injury that wouldn't heal, my teacher threw me out, telling me she would not continue to instruct me until I would seek medical care and my joints would heal.

That was two years ago. Three? Probably.

So today I went in. I walked into the theatre hall, where I danced every day for so many years. I didn't recognize it. I saw the people I used to walk past every day. They were so busy they didn't see me. So I snuck into the studio, and went into one of my old dance halls. I stood in the doorway for what felt like ages, but wincing every time I heard a sound. So I closed the door, and just stood there, trying to memorize every corner, every bump in the hardwood floors, every reflection of light on the walls. I walked across the room to stand by the window, watching myself in the large ballet window, flashing back to those millions of moments, scrutinizing every one of my moves, from the arched foot to the turned out leg to the pulled in tummy and the perfect neckline.
I stood in the window, much bigger, sadder and less confident than when i was a dancer, and i could no longer see that person. I wish I could have, I want her to come back, but I realized she was gone.
I read a few newspaper clippings and looked at pictures being pinned to the walls, some of my ballet teacher, wiping away a sneaky tear before someone would catch me.

I snuck back out, looking up at the windows from outside, and I knew that I would never go back. It was good to get closure, and I cried over this part of my life being finally over.

But then I thought, why not go back? I know I would never be good again, I would never be asked to dance on stage anymore, but why not do it for me?

I don't know what the right decision is. Go back, maybe clinging to a part of my life that is supposed to be over for good... or just letting go.

I don't know. All I know is that going back after so many years really tore at my heart.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Impressions

I want to get into this, get started somehow, but am unsure how.

So I will just share some old photos... memories of trips, of people, of things my head may forget but my heart won't.

Let's start with this past summer. Cambodia and Thailand.







Do you know those moments where
everything feels light and nothing
matters but the very second?
This was one of those.

Silly cliché, but true.

Welcome to my little world

I'm a student, a wannabe artist, a dreamer, a procrastinator, a pessimist, a caffeine addict, an observer, a girly girl, a smoker, a giggler, an in-the-shower-singer and in-the-car-to-myself-talker, a tomboy, a talker, a McDreamy addict, a traveller, a lover and a friend.

The busier I get the more urgent the necessity becomes to clean the house, lie in the grass and watch clouds, count stars, learn
how to make your own soap, find that CD you haven't listened to for 7 years, vacuum on top of the kitchen cabinets, bake a cake and then some waffles, read time magazine, find out how exactly dna replication works, sew a purse from a t shirt, repair the aircon, buy new undies, try to find out with juice tastes best mixed with beer, look at pictures of polar babies, repeat those ballet moves you knew you were capable of and cause yourself excruciating pain in the process, write poetry even though you don't really like poetry, google 'indie bands' and see what google comes up with, decide to join a drama class, make a sculpture that falls off the balcony, make mental note to either no longer make sculptures or build balcony fence, read a b took about the khmer rouge, decide to throw out some purses but end up buying two more.

Welcome to my little world. Not crazier than anyone else's, but mine.