etherised

I thought those were yellow dying leaves on the tree. They turned out to be clusters of yellow flowers. It's strange how something so full of life should be perceived as dead or dying. But I suppose that's one of life's little ironies, like humans. The joke's on us who die every day we live. But the beauty lies in the death, the final resting place that irons out all the kinks in relationships; death that eternalises the remnants of your beauty like a butterfly stretched out and pinned to a display board.

The other day while filming at UCC, an ant sauntered past my knife. I pushed it onto the knife and at once it scuttled along the cutting edge, occasionally folding its body across the jagged teeth, as if willing itself to be chopped into two. I thought I would be kind and help it in its self-destruction, however, much to my consternation, my kind hearted friend flung it onto the floor. And to think I named it Albert.

We live for the rare moments of connection, be it human or ant. It's all in the eyes, (or the feelers).

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Today I forgot to lug my cello to school although I knew I had a concert to play for in the evening. It was surprising, considering how I left it at the door. It was more surprising as to how little I cared.

(I don't really want to blog about this considering it is an epic-ally embarrassing situation, but someone suggested that I blog this anyway.)

The incident did get me thinking about whether my marriage with my cello is on the rocks. Apart from God, that was about the next surest thing in my life, but now I have no idea if my cello's male or female. As such, 'marriage' is not really the right word to use is it?

How long can an undefined relationship last?

It's like something I read from Oswald Chambers, who said that people prefer listening to sermons to reading the Bible, because they can disagree with the preacher but not the Bible. That is if one thinks God is there to provide you with moral guidelines that you can feel free to disagree with, without going into the messy details of an actual relationship with *gasp* commitment and struggle and the occasional glimpses of what can be called a 'close brush with the divine'.

(Then again, I haven't been able to erase what I heard last Sunday over the pulpit, when the speaker said something along the lines of "Why the need to study Hebrew and Greek when we have the King James Bible? And all the while I thought that the source should always be favoured over the translation, especially if you believe strongly that the translation has scribal/copyist errors? Hmmm.)

For once I think the Thinking, Knowledge and Inquiry Module is going to be the high point of my Wednesdays. Theatre practical with a"child molester looking" (to quote my classmate with the hysterical laughter) actor gratituously spouting f*** just for the sake of being 'different' is so uncool.

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In one of those painful time-killing moments, I turned to deleting smses from my inbox and realised you don't have to have a near-death experience to find out what it is like to have your life flash before your eyes.

In this case, however, you relive every other thing that happened in the past week: times when you were waiting, where you made someone wait, times when you were victimised by a ventilating smser; you see the smses that made you smile, although this time the smile comes because you remember what it was like to smile.

And then there are the smses which you wanted so much to reply to but did not, because you didn't dare commit, even if it was simply a 'yes', even after five minutes of staring obsessively at a blank screen, deleting the words as fast as they came out.