Love, only love

I accept that, happily

Everywhere

I see you everywhere.

Every bike rider who sweeps passed on the street turns my head. The confident ones, no matter their colour, make me double take to see if it is you.

When my apartment is buzzed, I answer and wait to hear that it is you. It never is. There is a gasp of hope and anticipation and then a thump as my heart is bitch slapped by reality.

You are gone.

That is OK.

I'd rather you be happy.

I lie in bed and close my eyes and imagine you sleeping next to me. With my insomnia, I used to watch you sleep. Your eyelids would flutter and you'd sigh at whatever you were dreaming. I'd kiss you and like the kissing ninja you are, you'd kiss me back mid-sleep as if you saw me coming every time. Those were the moments I spent with you that you didn't spend with me, consciously.

For all the drama and the pain that you caused, I will confirm that it was worth it.

Thank you for the ride of my life. Thank you for the first true love of my life.

I'd change nothing. Nothing.

Now, go do amazing things and know I love you.

Stoopid immune system.

The Dragons of Dorcastle

Book 29 of 2015 is The Dragons of Dorcastle by Jack Campbell.

It is the first book in the Pillars of Reality series which I am no considering reading.

It is your typical female engineer not respected in a man's world meets a sensitive boy with no social skills. Yes, I related to that part a little too much.

The writing is simple and effective. The read was not challenging and the story was engaging.

Jack Campbell does not write the in workings of the female mind well and the main female protagonist comes across in a Bella Swan way a few times but she is redeemed by her actions and overall character.

Going back to reading fantasy is always a pleasure but it also reminds me that a lot of fantasy is just Mills & Boon for guys.

3.5 guild wars out of 5.

Should I read this? Yes. I will at least read the next book. If you like fantasy and don't mind a but of a love story with dragons then this is for you.
What did I learn? Geeks and geek dysfunction is so mainstream these days that every day books are portraying that life. I think that is an all-around good thing.

Salomé

Book 20 of 2015 is a book based on my favourite opera Salomé by Oscar Wilde.

To say I love everything Wilde has ever done is an understatement. He was an amazing mind and a broken soul and if that relates to anyone, it really does me.

Wilde's interpretation is different and brilliant.

It is a short read and of course, if our French is any good then it is wonderful. If you choose English then is is still fricken awesome.

3.5 heads out of 5.

Should I read this? If you love Wilde or you love this opera then yes.
What did I learn? Chicks be crazy when the guy looses his head first.

Esther Daia Madden

To my most wonderful mother,

I have known you 9 months longer than anyone else on earth. 9 months and a day since refusing to be born until being induced the day after our water broke. Sorry about that. You know how I love to sleep in before a big event.

Not one day in my life has passed in my life when I didn't know without absolute certainty that you loved me. When I was clinically depressed and didn't see the point to anything, you told me explicitly that you were my tether to the world and you'd never let me down. It was true. You are my most consistent and genuine love and that means a lot to me.

Unfortunately, I don't build tangible things. My skills aren't in making a vase to hold flowers for you or publishing a book dedicated to you but I try my best to live a life that would make you proud.

When people say they love their Mums, I just snigger. I love you much much more than anyone ever did another person.

You are brave, adventurous, compassionate, strong, gentle, funny, brilliant, beautiful and most of the things that I kinda wish I had a clue how to be.

If I grow up to be an actual adult, I hope I am a tenth of who you are.

Happy Mother's Day to the absolute best mother in the world.

Love from the loud daughter who never stays in one place too long but always comes home to you, Damana

Mirror, Mirror

I sat at dinner with my two closest Seattle friends, Vanessa and Candace. We spoke of many things but one thing resonated with them. I know this because they both mentioned it in days to come. To me, it was a passing comment but to them it seemed more. I realised that I had said something so true and personal that most people won't admit it... out loud, at least.

That however is my signature stupidity/charm.

I am a mirror.

It is a social skill and helps me build rapport faster than any other skill.

People think mirrors are out to mirror behaviour and that it is insincere. That is not the case.

Being a mirror is a great social skill. However, it is not about giving up who you are to satisfy the audience No. It so is not.

Being a mirror is about understanding the level of authenticity and emotional investment that each individual needs. Not about giving up who you are.

Some people need to connect intimately, some superficially. Some need to fall in love and others need to emotionally bounce off you and boost their ego. We walk in and out of the lives of people to give them what they need. That's a good way to see the world.

Recently, I felt a lot of emotion for an amazing man. He didn't want a relationship but needed support. I gave him that and we are no longer friends. That challenged me because I fell in love a little. My sadness is warranted because I helped him and thought we wanted the same thing but I was mistaken. I needed to remember that sometimes we give and don't receive and that is ok. We walk in and out of people's lives but mirrors carry a massive weight.

We know what you need and we give it because we care about you. Most people don't get that.

Sitting with two mirrors at dinner, I realised I am not alone. We find each other to help carry the weight that is thrust on us. I'm grateful to you two, Nessy and Candy. Even when those we carry for don't ever realise it.

The Shadow of What Was Lost

Book nine of 2015 is The Shadow of What Was Lost from The Licanius Trilogy by James Islington.

I read this because it was likened to Jordan's writing. It is in his style for sure but less rambling. If you like Robert Jordan but can't commit to a 21 book series then read this instead.

The protagonist starts as the usual annoying ignorant fool who makes bad choices and changes to a young man who shows innate wisdom. It became enjoyable very fast after the initial first five lingering chapters.

I don't think I'll read the trilogy but the first book is good. I'm tempted but it won't be something I run in to.


Three gasps out of five.

Should I read this? Yes, if you like Jordan.
What did I learn? I can love fantasy again. That's pretty cool.

Love in the Time of Cholera

Book five of 2015 is Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

It has been eight years since I moved a book in to my top ten all time reads but this is more deserving than more than half of those in that list.

Considering this was written in Spanish and translated (by the amazingly consistent Penguin Books) in to English, it is brilliant. We have been embarrassed in our own language.

When I first started reading this, I described it to a friend and she said "oh, it's a romance novel" but oh how it isn't. This is a book about love that happened too early and too late in life. It is about duty and the love found in commitment. It is about passionate love and about sensible love and about the ease we find in both.

At this exact point in my life, this is an apt and poignant story that made me see love as an activity for grown ups.

Five reasons to love out of five.

Should I read this? Yes. Just yes.
What did I learn? How to see love as something that is forever. I forgot that.

She eats the top of the watermelon

There are things that always make me think of my mother but nothing strikes me harder and brings a bigger smile than when I cut up a wedge of watermelon.

My mother is the most generous person I have ever known. I doubt I will meet anyone who gives more. Sometimes it frustrates me that she gives to her last drop and then some but that is I guess what makes her, her.

As a child, there was only ever one thing that my mother ever took for herself that she didn't sacrifice for others. Take in to account a story I was told as a child about my mum coming home from her first day at school and telling her father that a boy there didn't have a pencil. My very wise grandfather told her that next time she should break her pencil in half and give it to the person in need. I heard this story many times but what taught me generosity was my mother's ability to give and give and give and only feel happy as a result.

Now, my mother is known for being the best maker of fruit salad. She cooks many things but her tropical fruit salad is the perfect mix of everything. I've tried to imitate her but it always ends up with too much mango (I know, is that possible?) or skewed to one flavour. She gets it right.

Since I was a babe, I've watched her carefully and quite deliberately cut up each and every fruit that went in to the fruit salad. The right amount of kiwi fruit mixed with mango and a splash of passionfruit and then watermelon and berries and whatever was in season.

Usually, you buy a wedge of watermelon and not a whole melon as it is too much to consume before it goes to waste. The top of the wedge is the centre of the watermelon. It is the softest and sweetest part. The heart. The reward. No part of a watermelon tastes better.

My mother unwraps the thick shop style plastic from the wedge and cuts the thick green and white rind away. She then, with the flick of a wrist, cuts the top of the wedge out and slowly eats it. After she is done consuming the prize of the melon, she cuts up the rest and hands it to the bowl that holds the perfect salad.

She always smiles as she does this. Sometimes, my sister and I would ask for some and of course, she gave us some but it was the one thing she always took a part of for herself.

I can not remember one other thing or time that my mum ever took the best part for herself. She always happily gave the best to others. It was her culture and her upbringing. It is the best part of her.

Tonight as I cut up a slice of watermelon, I put the nicest parts aside for my mother. She is not here but those pieces are hers. In what is our culture, I will throw some of the best pieces off the balcony in honour of her not being here but being in my thoughts.

Maybe that makes no sense but it is how I will silently show I love her and know what it means for her to be here. It means she gets the top of the wedge of watermelon.

It was her one thing. That one thing she gave herself first. It is the part I will always throw a piece of away for her, forever.

I think true love is...

I think this thing we refer to as "true love" is a combination of many loves.

Some get it from one person. Some get it from a few. Others get it from a stadium full of fans.

Whatever it is to you, it fills you up. It makes you feel whole. Books have been written about it. Battles fought. Lives lost, even to the still living.

Since my life feels like being wrapped in an unending everlasting Righteous Brothers style love, I realise I am one of the lucky ones. It wasn't always that way or I wasn't always aware it was.

Take it in. Breathe it. Walk it. Swim in the salty waters of all the loving tears. Don't waste it.

Let the people who love you express that. Let it soak in like warm monsoonal rain. Let it be.

It might not be a partner. Maybe your folks suck. It could be your children always scream at you. I don't know.

Just take the good bits and realise that true love is unconditional, unending and effortless love.

Eat Pray Love

Book three of 2015 is Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.

Some days, I wonder if I'm actually female because apparently this is the book of the decade that women most relate to. Like the protagonist, I have gone through a divorce, discovered who I am and gone on to be happier than I ever was before. Despite this, I for the life of me can not stand this book.

The whole thing feels self-indulgent. The main character Liz romanticises the countries she travels too and doesn't seem to get where the happiness in the lives of people in third world countries with nothing comes from. To me she misses the whole point.

I practice mindfulness and have since late 2009. The self and situational awareness that I would expect this woman to develop is never there or at least the writer doesn't manage to convey it to me.

And what pisses me off the most is that in the end it is a man and love that makes her happy again and not herself. It is intrinsic and I was expecting that to be the big revelation... I guess since it was for me.

Disappointment is not a strong enough word. Otherwise, the story is a story and I read the whole thing in two days so it's not the worst writing in the world.

Two meaningless searches for god out of five.

Should I read this? Maybe. It wasn't for me but I could see others searching for themselves finding this encouraging, if on the most superficial level I can imagine.
What did I learn? I must be missing the gene that makes me all girly and therefore like this.

The Brothers Karamazov

Book 25 of 2014 is The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

It is secret that I love the Russian authors and this book did not disappoint me. Although I had to stop several times and read other books in between, I enjoyed the soul challenging ideas contained within.

Although I am not a religious person, I loved the discussions and ideas around free will and our human mortality. There were a few chapters that left me lying on my bed staring at the ceiling pondering the purpose of life in the context of me, me, me.

Lines like...

"Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love."

"I love mankind, he said, "but I find to my amazement that the more I love mankind as a whole, the less I love man in particular."

"The more stupid one is, the closer one is to reality. The more stupid one is, the clearer one is. Stupidity is brief and artless, while intelligence squirms and hides itself. Intelligence is unprincipled, but stupidity is honest and straightforward."

4.5 brothers out of 5.

Should I read this? Yes. Just read it. Make it one of your 101 to read before you die.
What did I learn? The Russian authors embarrassed us in our own language.

Just a thought

It must be your skin I'm sinking in

It must be for real 'cause now I can feel
And I didn't mind
It's not my kind
It's not my time to wonder why

Everything's gone white
And everything's gray
Now you're here now you're away
I don't want this
Remember that
I'll never forget where you're at

Don't let the days go by

Glycerine
Glycerine

I'm never alone
I'm alone all the time
Are you at one or do you lie?
We live in a wheel
Where everyone steals
But when we rise it's like strawberry fields

If I treated you bad
You bruised my face
Couldn't love you more
You got a beautiful taste

Don't let the days go by

Could have been easier on you
I couldn't change though I wanted to
Should have been easier by three
Our old friend fear and you and me

Glycerine
Glycerine

Don't let the days go by

Glycerine

Don't let the days go by

Glycerine
Glycerine

Glycerine
Glycerine

Black moon white again
Black moon white again
And she falls around me

I needed you more
When we wanted us less
I could not kiss just regress
It might just be
Clear simple and plain
Well, that's just fine
That's just one of my names

Don't let the days go by
Could've been easier on you, you, you

Glycerine
Glycerine

Glycerine
Glycerine

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Book 18 of 2014 is one that i have read twice now. It is a favourite and often fits in to certain contexts in my life.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being is the Milan Kundera book that you must read.

I most identify with Sabina and have been told she is dysfunctional. Maybe she is but boy does she look hot in a bowler hat.

I give it 4.5 extra-martial affairs out of 5.

Should I read this? Absolutely. A classic that you must consume, at least once.
What did I learn? Love is totally and absolutely unique to who you are. Let no one dictate otherwise.

Friendzones and Fury

This afternoon, a male friend told me that men and women can not be friends. He is a little upset about what he sees as me putting him in the friendzone. I don't know about all these stoopid rules. I have a lot of friends, male and female. We can all be friends IMHO. If we go through life assuming everyone of the preferred sex wants to bonk us then that would be just strange. Instead, I choose to have lovely friends and let life be what it is.

Love Letters

I wrote you a love letter.

I pressed the delete key until my pointer finger tingled.

I miss you. That is all.

Reactions

I have learnt to forgive myself recently for being so sad, angry, happy and random. It was a situation I'd never been in, a place I never would have wandered myself and an ending that I would not have chosen.

So I dealt with it how I did. I will cope as best I can. And most importantly, I will be kind to myself because someone in this whole damn Universe has to be :)

Omniscience and then Null

I once knew everything you thought or I was able to ask for it.

You handed it up on a plate and I plated mine up on hand.

You bled for me. I did not drop a single platelet.

You wanted to understand and I wanted to explain it all to you.

Then it stopped and not because of anything I could control.

You took away that access like it had never been there.

You boarded up the windows and put that part of you back in a box on the shelf.

You didn't want to understand but I still wanted to explain.

And I see you five days of seven.

And I look down like I have done something wrong but I haven't.

And I wonder what you think and imagine only the worst possible things.

You don't care to understand and the apathy shows clearly.

I once knew everything you thought but now I don't.

You no longer know I exist and maybe I don't.

You wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire and I am.

I want to understand but I never will.

Why I Run

The last six months have seen me start jogging again. It does involve a lot of walking but I run more now than I ever did before. Even on those cold mornings and dark wet evenings, I run.

I run because it makes my heart beat fast. Then I need to breathe. All I can think about is breathing. The rest of the world disappears and so do the thoughts in my head.

I run to stop thinking.

Stop thinking of the words written, those long ago peripheral glances and the silence. The deafening, wounding unending silence that feeds my pensive sadness.

There is an odd point when running where I feel myself coming up to the final few metres and my body is begging to stop but my brain doesn't want to. My brain doesn't want to because then it will start thinking again and that never ends well. Too much introspection is never a good thing.

So I keep on running.