out of the wilderness

metaphorically speaking, of course.

i have been a lot less busy the past 2 weeks - started optional modules on perfume and cosmetics, which after 2 weeks of technical, commercial and economical classes on the universe of perfume culminated in creating my very own perfume ! which, to quote gaétan, is "interesting but clearly made by an amateur". it also resulted in me stinking of perfume (we had had a factory visit the same day, sniffed perfumes constructed by a synthesis of molecules, and were surrounded by 34 different fragrances during the perfume making session), and rolling around in bed feeling nauseous for hours haunted by wafts of different perfumes.

things are going to pick up possibly more than ever before (i'm pretty sure i'm behind already...) the mémoire (equivalent of a thesis in the US), 4 exams and 1 huge group project for L'oréal has to be worked on in the next... hm, 2 ? weeks. i should be stressed but i'm feeling strangely tranquil. or tranquilized. the calm before the storm, etc. i woke up at 2.30 this afternoon and napped 4 hours later...

it has been quite an awful week. but at the end of it, what i'm left with, is a sense of wonder that i can look at someone and be this moved by the beauty of his being. gentleness, harshness. curves and sharp edges. intransigence, forgiveness. the magic in banality. i seem to be making a list, but "everything", is what i really want to say. because that's what it is when you love somebody, the reasons aren't bullet pointed, there aren't any arguments. you might know why you were so inclined, but after a certain time it encompasses and then surpasses all. the feeling just surges like a wave, sometimes hard enough to knock the breath out of you overwhelmed. also, overwhelmed by the way things turned out. if i calculated the statistical probability of the events that led up to all this... it'd be a lot closer to 0 than 1. when i start thinking about it i get lost in that curious retrospective fascination. do you know what i mean? when your universe overlaps so fiercely with another's, that sometimes the edges of you and the other (almost you, or you almost he) blur, i assume it like a path trodden all my life. but thinking about how 8 months ago we were a big question mark, 10 months ago almost strangers? and even a year +++ ago, reflecting on our relationship, it seems like an alternate reality, a semblance of him or us that never reached beyond a certain stage. a blueprint unrealized, a sketch, an idea, a ghost, a shell. it's that profound change that fascinates - how one person can change everything, the air one breathes, the way one breathes. that's probably the most apt metaphor i can think of - it's almost unnoticeable, but crucial, fundamental. that discreet, grinning gap between before and after. the little things - what i buy when im at the supermarket, the brewing of tea for two, the smell of the apartment. hints and traces of a shift in existence; the metamorphosis of a world, a soul.

aaaanyway. enough mushy ruminations. tomorrow will be the unwilling revival of the spirit of diligence in hibernation. lotus-ing to the max : )

i have three things to tell you

1) HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUNGRYANI !




Thank goodness we don't have to sing loudly, out of tune, with customized song lyrics in McDo this time...


























Many more good times to come ! Come home! (singapore)
And of course, us being retards, and then you ling and mandy being retards. :P































the most active musk8ter :P




















2) i cut my hair ! (ok that was in singapore, which makes it... almost a month ago)
















3) i made a video! (ystd) -- my first upload on youtube ha ha ! the words are in french though, but the music is really nice (kikujiro - the rain) and i have michelle to thank for the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcwxSXUa7Dk

phantom update from paris

hello !!
i'm not sure if anyone ever reads this anymore -- not surprising since it's been consigned to the depths of obscurity for over 3 months...
well, well.

Ruminations (While Suitcase Packing)

I just put up the "Lotus Potato Super 6 Class" poster that the children and I made together in Nepal. It's been more than a year now, how does time sneak around like that? Everytime I see it I feel giggly, vaguely remembering our group name-choosing process (I think Monkey Boy suggested "Alu class" at first ... that's potato in Nepalese right??) and after some convoluted brainstorming process (which I admit to probably manipulating quite a bit) all the kids chorusing (esp Biparna) "Lotus Potato! Lotus Potato! Super 6 Class!" ^^ Aiya, so cute! It was one of the least cloudy periods of my life, I don't think I'd ever felt so clean (metaphorically speaking; hygiene standards left some to be desired), so uncomplicated, so content, so present in years.

Then I think about how they took this poster off the wall in the common room; I'm not sure why actually. One of them gave it to me, and told me to bring it home, to put it up in my room. So typical of most of them, a furious generosity scattered out like confetti in all their little presents - 4-colored pens, hand-woven friendship bands, the flowers on our last day. On one hand, the common, shared, unindividualised environment of an orphanage made them fiercely possessive over what was "mine" in order to own anything. On the other, what was "mine" was precious partly also because they could afterwards give it away, and we would have something that was theirs. Do you see what I'm trying to say? I never really delved into the logistics of gifts with these children before, only marvelled previously at how eagerly they pressed, slipped, their rare, weary treasures into foreign hands and pockets.

I remember Ling dissuading some of the children in her class from parting with a keychain, a pencil, other random knick-knacks that acquired a magnitude far beyond their function. The kids usually ended up un-giving the presents when asked a few times if they were sure they wouldnt rather keep it, and that the intention was lovely and well stored already. It was the act of giving then, mostly. I can't navigate clear paths in my head to explain or elaborate how these little ones thought or what prompted them to act exactly as they did, but when I remember, I am (as I was then) just floating, lulled off my feet by waves of their beauty, amazed. Awed and uncomprehending, the smallness of my soul reiterates how little they have, assembling the somber background against which their open hearts glow like fireflies or candles. I'm not saying they're angels, they were definitely insufferable at points, but only as children inevitably are. And then there were other moments like when I opened Round Face Boy's letter to me, and saw that he had put rabbit and giraffe stickers on the cover ( he asked me what my fav animals were earlier that day) and that the inside was full of the stickers I had given to the kids the day before, that they really liked and had been playing with all day... It just made me want to be a better person, to be worthy of children like that, who deserve, and more.

And then, I didn't go back this year... and, I need to write them letters.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

"The only dream worth having is to dream that you will live while you are alive, and die only when you are dead. To love, to be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity of the life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget."

- Arundhati Roy

i forgot

the gentle words, the soothing hand. soft, sweet.
the lessons i tried to engrave , not yet inked
perspective, hope rising from ashes.
more lists and ramblings, more of yes, yes, i will and exclamat!on marks replacing full stops because there were not to be ends only surges forward.
kind

for the moment, i forget, how i feel.
that is not true. it's easy to forget when youre alone, but when you're with people again it's okay. you remember. one remembers. i remember the resolve, i dont remember how to talk anymore. i wish i remembered how i feel, it's very quiet inside. try to guess the contents of an opaque black box without shaking it around at all. toss up a few options, but we'll never know, and right and wrong are equally quiet (or loud). a banana, two paper clips, i hate you, it'll pass.

is this the ocean or a glass bowl?
...i need to know if we'll meet halfway if we set off on separate ships.

Sad Brad Smith - "Help Yourself"