Friday, January 22, 2010

This is not a disaster.

I know I said I will accept things as there are, but I still can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed.

After all there is only so much a small heart can take, I think if someone took my heart out of my chest and examined it it would probably be the most battle worn heart ever.

Yes I’m being melodramatic. Its my blog after all.

But everytime I feel a deeper shade of azure, Elizabeth Bishop always puts things into perspective.

This poem is like a hug put into words. It is my all time fav. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day.
Accept the fluster of lost door keys,
the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel.
None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch.
And look! my last, or next-to-last,
of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones.
And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster

* Elizabeth Bishop *

Monday, January 4, 2010

I am just a small town kinda girl.

Bangsar always does this to me.

Everytime I step into Bangsar or KL I have the urge to I don't know, murder, maim or hurt someone.

On milder days I just have the urge to turn right back, I fantasise about taking the wheel from my husband and physically turning the grumbling green waja straight to back to SA, where the grass is greener and there is better cheaper food and I can get a manicure and a pedicure for just RM 50 or lower.

And Oh how I dream.

Bangsar. The land of the cool. Supposedly. And they drive around in their big cars and honk at you for crossing the road ( even when you are running across) and they double park just because they feel like they own the place, where rice and lauk cost RM 7 or more, where people talk in slangish english and as if they are better smarter cooler and just -oh-so-wise than anyone else.

Where talking in Bahasa means you're either rural, or from Pandora or something. Where noses are so turned up they can probably reach the damn sky. And big gigantic glasses frame evil penetrating stares.

God. My hormones are taking over me.

Am just a small town girl. I feel silly wearing big black glasses in a mall, my little family only owns one Malaysian car, I like looking at green trees and grass, I like listening to the call for prayer, and I like a good bargain. I mix my Bahasa and English and do not think its wrong, I carry my daughter in my arms instead of a xspansive baby sling, I do not think its right to double park. I work to earn a living AND I dont own any Gucci or Prada bag.

SO there.