Sunday Ramble.

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I don’t know why I keep putting up pictures of sleepy animals

Sundays are always so sleepy for me.

Even as I type this with the sunlight filtered through the curtains beside me, I can feel the light airiness in my head,  and I just want to lie down all day.

The TV outside sounds so boring, it’s almost making me sleep. The noise coming from the kitchen, as my grandmother fiddles around with pots and pans, does that too. 

I took a nice walk with my grandmother for some grocery shopping. She wore this bright orange dress with flower prints. And as I held her hand I realised how much I’ve grown. I had to tilt slightly into a hunch just so to hold her hand comfortably. 

Everything seems so much more pretty today. I think it’s because I spent the entire day at home in my room, and going out was such a nice, fresh feeling. The sunlight made it prettier too, it’s almost the magic hour, but not quite yet. Just almost.

What do you do when you think? Where does your mind usually wonder off to?

My mind likes to replay things in my head, nice memories, and not-so-nice memories too. Sometimes it goes into the future, and I thought a lot about the future in the past. But I’ve learnt to not think too much into the future, because it’s really easy to get disappointed when you do. I hardly think about the future now. I try not to. Sometimes I do because I can’t help but want to imagine all the happy things that could happen. ‘Could’ is the key word. 

I’m very content with my present happy memories. So I don’t mind just dwelling in them. I think I replay them too much. It’s like how I’ve re-watched my favourite Studio Ghibli movie, ‘The Cat Returns’ like 10 times now. I really like that movie.

I feel like going to the sea side. It’s just a sudden thought. I like the sea breeze when it plays with your hair. Oh and swimming, I feel like swimming now.

Next time you go swimming, try this: Hold your nose really tightly and go all the way down. Sink right to the bottom and roll over until your face is facing the water surface. The world above the water will look so magical, it’ll feel as if it’s another completely different dimension, distorted by the water ripples and the bubbles escaping from your mouth. Slowly, as you rise back up, raise your arm so that your fingers barely touch the underneath of the surface of the water, and let you arm go through it gradually as you rise. It feels as if you’re entering some portal into that other dimension. I always did that when I was younger. Besides pretending to be a mermaid and swimming like as if I had conjoined legs and feet.

The wind rushing through my window now feels like it came from the sea, it sounds like the sea. And it tickles.

If you feel like dreaming, listen to this!

Castle In the Sky Theme Song

When I listen to songs from Studio Ghibli movies, I just want to dream and dream and dream. And it also feels as if you’re in some big adventure!

I find it amazing how some songs can completely change your mood, or give you the feeling of something.

This song feels like a lonely bus ride in the rain:

You Already Know

And this one feels like a sunny cycle down a dirt road and you’re lifting out your hand into the rushing wind:

Pocketful of Poetry

This feels like a slow-motion film with all my memories in it:

Nothing Like You And I

And this song reminds me of dreams at night, and the night sky and finally falling asleep:

Shadow Children

 

P.S. Sorry for rambling on and on and on. And switching topics. A certain Walrus told me it was annoying. If you’re reading this now, well, Bleh. 

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Servant’s Heart

 

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Sometimes we wonder what we’re doing all of this for.

 

Sometimes, life seems dull, unfulfilled, so completely lacking of everything.

Sometimes, don’t you find yourself thinking, 

“Man, I wish I could (insert super awesome thingy here)!”

or

“Sigh, I wish I had (insert another super awesome thingy here)!”

 

Most of the time, we LIVE to find happiness. We live life wishing, wanting, finding seeking, and we always NEVER end up finding what we think we want the most.

Isn’t that what life is about? Being happy? Finding the things, the people that make you happy? I guess, this is what the world wants us to think. Well I sure can see how happy and peaceful and right the world is now! Such happiness._. Such peace._.

Really?

Is that all there is to life? Finding happiness? It sure sounds fun, skipping through life like a happy horse, and that’s the way most of us live life by.

Today I realised why I’ve been feeling so completely unsatisfied with a lot of things. I’ve started drifting off to ME-ALONE-AND-ONLY-MYSELF island. (NOOOOOOOOOOO) And let me tell you, my dear friends, that THAT is not one place anyone wants to be in. Well, at least, if you don’t see why it’s such a bad place try living there for a while! Go on, I’ll wait. You’ll see why it is in a few weeks time. I hope. Because some people never realize that their entire lives.

I’ve been receiving so many wonderful things these past few days, i’ve been floating around in the sea of happiness, the world of rainbow-farting-unicorns so much that I think I forgot the giving part of the receiving. And when I start drifting away, slowly, back into reality, I feel that craving for rainbow-farting-unicorns again. And I start chasing this sea again, hunting down these Unicorns (that gallop away at incredible speeds I’m telling you).

Happiness doesn’t last. It comes and goes. And that’s VERY easy to forget sometimes. Because when you’re right in the middle of a happy season, you feel as if it’s going to last forever. Well, you’re going to be right up for a rude shock when it says goodbye all of a sudden. 

It’s high time I woke up.

So you might tell me, Oh no, Rachel, I’m not that selfish, I don’t exactly wake up every day thinking, “Now how can I make myself happier today??”.

See, happiness comes in so many different disguises.

Success.

Good grades.

Having a Boyfriend/Girlfriend.

Getting Money.

Finding an awesome Job. 

 

There you go, I’ve just listed down a list of what everyone’s always after all the time. 

When you spend your life chasing happiness, happiness doesn’t always come chasing after you. And yet, here I was, out with my unicorn-hunting-net running so desperately and getting really breathless from all that chasing. I know, EVERYONE, say it with me!

 

Stupid, Stupid Rachel. 

 

It’s all about having a servant’s heart. Instead of waking up in the morning thinking of how to be happier, I think it’ll be a hell more productive thinking:

How can I make someone happier today?

It’s kinda amazing how God made it in such a way that happiness is something that only comes to you when you aren’t seeking out for it. It comes to you when you sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of someone else. Being a servant. It’s something you have to lose, in order to gain. (But helping others just for the sake of gaining your own happiness…well, I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way!)

So now you ask me, “How am I supposed to feel happy when someone else feels happiness, in exchange of my own?”

That, good sir/lady, is why Love exists. The action Love, not the feeling Love. Love doesn’t always feel awesome all the time, you know. You love someone by doing things not for the sake of your own happiness, but sacrificing it for the other’s.

You love someone by pledging to serve the other.

By having a servant’s heart:D

And that’s where you’ll find the happiness that you AREN’T looking for!

 

Lost souls

They say if there is such a thing that is loved so dearly, it is given a soul.

It’s like how toys are given names by young children, how they’re given roles in their own worlds. I do believe children’s toys come alive, they do! In one way or another.

I knew my dog was a princess.
And there was always the handsome prince who was either the cow or the horse-like animal.

Piglet would always be either the best friend or the evil side-kick.

Then there was the antagonist, sometimes I would put a beaded bracelet around a penguin’s neck and she’d be the evil, jealous other-princess who wants to steal the prince away. (I don’t know, she always did look evil to me)

I would switch on the air-con, push all the pillows off my bed, and lay my pile of soft toys onto the blanket.

Sometimes I had props too. They usually came from Barbie houses that had no Barbies. I’d turn the Barbie fridge on its side and it’d become a table. But plastic foods remained foods, I never changed those.

The first to talk would be the dog (which I still have no name for. I hardly name my soft toys, at least their names change along with whoever they come to be). And they would talk in my bedroom, all of them. Things happen and scenes change, the good princess will always win, and the evil penguin would be banished off the bed.

I’d lie on my stomach and watch them
all. Everyday something new would happen. They walked around with my hands, sometimes I became a part of their world, like how my legs became a mountain if I lay a blanket over. But I was never a part of the story, I was just watching.

I think I could do this because I had no one to play with when I was young. I was left alone with my toys in my room, and I could spend hours just sitting on my bed listening to their stories and what they had to say. I could give them lives. Souls.

I don’t know when I stopped doing that.

I remember trying again once, a long time ago, after having grown up a bit. But I knew their voices weren’t theirs anymore. They were mine. And it got boring after a while and I never did that again.

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I spent some time digging through the cupboard and look what I found!! And evil penguin still has that beaded necklace! (she doesn’t seem evil to me now though) and princess still has the purple ribbon I tied onto her neck.

Part Of Rachel’s On-The-Go Notebook

copied from iPhone notes

They serve with empty laughter

Why, why me?
You don’t need a reason to become a hero.

It’s just that- I need proof that you’re really here, that you’re still alive!

The ferio have the power to project the worst sort of pain onto people. They can let them see their deepest, darkest fears, death of the ones they love, pain of what is lost. They lose all sense of time and being, and they eventually lose themselves in return. They would end it in death when the pain becomes to great for them to bear. It is truly the worst way one can die in Sky, surrounded by pain until the very end.

Wispy pink orange clouds against the blue sky in the morning.

Hair messed and tangled, fingers numb from the bitter cold, skirt fluttering wildly, tickling knees

This scar is proof that I didn’t try hard enough.

“What do YOU, of all people, know of pain?”

“Damn it! So You think you’re the only one in the whole damned world that has pain? Everyone has pain! It’s only a matter of how you control…what it does to you!”

Ekan can’t stand being surrounded by a lot of people, and is constantly in the shadows. His hood is always drawn over his bright copper hair, and sometimes he wears a mask to hide his bright green eyes that seem to glow in the night. It’s almost as of he was meant to be noticed, born to be someone people will remember

Ella has a friend named pillow. She talks to it everynight. It has two sewn on buttons on its face, one red and one black because she couldn’t find two matching ones. She had stitched on a smile out of black thread, and she tied a string around it so that it had a neck. It sat propped up every night and she would

We are only but another world yet to be discovered.

The ability to not notice or feel, is one I wish I had.

The things that the Earth would not hold, Sky has it all.

The way he walked was smooth, stealthy, almost like a gliding shadow.

The essence of the moon, it lets no one sleep. The people of the moonlit market drink this to keep themselves awake, as for them it is always night. The market follows the moon, kept hidden in its mysterious light.
Ekan has horrible eyebags, very pale skin from never seeing the sun much, and he hasn’t slept since he was a very young boy.

Don’t weep because he’s gone, smile because he lived

Hauyne loves showing his scars off to people

Varieting fields of gold and green. Smoke gathered from the chimneys of the houses to the forests at the bottom of the valley
The hill was carpeted with grass
The sweet smell of wild flowers made Ella sneeze

They may call you a fool, a good for nothing loser, a failure or a rotten piece of hawk meat, but you will never say that to yourself!

We grow up wanting the things we didn’t have the most

Ella lived all her life with no purpose, no reason. But now, she’s found things she wants to protect, to fight for, to live for.

Ella spent most of her life People-Watching. There was a cross roads that was only a few minutes walk from the coffee shop, and Ella would take a walk there in the afternoons when it was full of life, bustling with hurried shoppers. There was a fence that sat, quietly in a corner in between two shop houses, and was perfect as it looked right onto the centre of the crossroads. And Ella would bring with her a bag of sandwich leftovers from the day before, And she would sit on the fence and watch people. Sometimes she’d eavesdrop a little, thinking up of her own replies if as if she were talking to them. It was her favourite part of the day, the most interesting part, because she got to have a peek into the lives of other people instead.
Ella doesn’t have a motive, she just lives life day by day, dragging herself along, not knowing about her future, not having any dreams or ambition, and with no one to love.

I’ve always wanted to see what I can become.
Hauyne has a long stick of very hard bread that he slings over his shoulder in a strap. He hits one of the flying monsters with it in a desperate attempt to defend himself and realises that it can be a weapon. It has a bite taken out of it.
“There must be more than this…” Ella said to pillow, “because now, I feel like… I have nothing at all.”
You were made for more than this. There’s so much more to yourself than you can ever imagine!

His hair was a brilliant shade of copper that burned like fire, cropped short. His eyes were emeralds, clear and sharp. Ekan pulled his hood over his head, tightly, until only his nose and his pale lips showed from the shadow cast on his face once again.
“Why, you’re beautiful, Ekan!” Ella squinted her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she tried to see his face once more.
Ekan sighed and shoved her face away before turning his back on her.”You cannot be more wrong,” he said quietly.
“No I’m not, just look at you! Any stranger on the street’ll never forget you from just seeing you once!”
“And that is exactly why!” he turned around, pursing his lips, “where I come from, this… this face could cost me my life!”
Ella slumped down onto the wall and exhaled, “What kind of a horrible place is that?”
“Let us just hope you will never ever find a reason to be there.”

the prince of thieves and a cursed past

The flame looked solid, a single flower, blooming with light. It dissolved in a tender blue at the very end, the tip of the candle’s wick glowing a charred orange.

“keep your head down and don’t let your eyes wonder, you dont know what you’ll get stolen if you do.”

Moss figures that move around sluggishly, the Morigami are creatures of the forests that float about in sky, they are the guardians that protect the lands from harm, and they are one with the forests themselves

Missing.

This is horrible.

I’ve just realised that I can’t find my old notebook anywhere!

It’s a small, black notebook I bought last year, it has pages that you can flip backwards along a blue-ring spine, kind of like those parking ticket notebooks. And it costs a dollar fifty.

But it was my idea notebook that I carried around with me everywhere! If something came to mind for a story while I was in the bus, i’d whip it out and jot it down on the spot.

Or if I saw something beautiful I’d try and write it down in a description.

Or if I was imagining what a character would say to another in my head as I walked, and someone said something funny I’d write it down before I forget.

I finished using most of the pages one day and it became dusty for a while as I switched to using my phone as an on-the-go-notebook.

And now I have absolutely no idea where it is.

Oh notebook, can you hear my desperate heart pleading out?

I want my ideas back!

Why did you run away?! (technically I was the one who misplaced you but still!)

I feel like I’ve lost a part of my mind forever.

Like a dream that’s forgotten.

I want that notebook back.

That dusty old notebook that costs $1.50 , filled with all of my thoughts.

Is Too Close A Bad Thing?

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I’ve always said she looks like an owl, and she says I’m as lazy as a cat.

 

I’ve known my best friend for about 4 years now.

And I’m writing about this here because I’m sure none of my friends read these anyway.

We’re close, really, really close.

Too close, in fact.

What do I mean by too close? You ask. 

It’s when we don’t even try to get closer anymore. We used to talk for ages on the phone, and we could talk about anything. But now when I call her it’s even a struggle to figure out what to talk about. And it gets boring. It’s like we’ve used up our lifetime supply of ‘interesting topics to talk about’ in that short span of 4 years. We’re so close we don’t even find silences awkward at all. That’s when you know we don’t even try to make our conversations interesting. We don’t force it. 

I could say, “Last time, I used to catch ants and put them in-“

And she would cut in and say, “Yeah, you said that before.”

 

And this happens every time now. It’s as if she’s already heard everything she could ever hear from me. Now you may find that impossible, since no one can ever know EVERYTHING about anyone, but I can safely say she knows a lot about me – My past, and even my future (We’ve talked a lot about futures). So now we’re just left with the present to talk about.

Things to talk about the present:

1) What’s today’s homework?

2) I’m so tired

3) What are you doing now? (When I’m on the phone with her)

 

That’s pretty much it, and you wonder why our conversations are boring.

It’s not like I feel like I’ve lost something, no, it’s still there! It feels more like as if we and our box of things have been stuffed into a dusty corner that we hardly touch. It’s stale, but it’s still there.

Are dusty things as good as gone…?

maybe.

We’re so close we don’t even try to be polite with each other. We never say please or thank you, it feels weird like that. It’s like we’re gone with formality. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing or not, but when we fail to show appreciation of each other, it gets tiring after a while because it feels as if you’re the only one giving it all. 

We’re so honest with each other that sometimes we become too blunt, and we hurt each other without even knowing it. 

It’s kinda like family, you know? When you don’t even feel the slight tinge of blood rushing to your cheeks after you’ve just farted out loud in front of everyone.

Or when you can show your true colours when you’re angry or sad, and don’t feel embarrassed at all for it.

Or an annoying big sister that disturbs you all the time and doesn’t feel guilty for it.

I guess it feels like that. We’re like family. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, we’re really great friends, it just sounds like we’re total arch enemies just because I’m only focusing on the rainy side of our friendship in this post. There’s a whole other sunny, rainbow, unicorn-filled side that I’ve not even touched and shall do sometime on another post. There are many things I love about our friendship, it’s just that this is a teeny tiny problem. We’re really, too close.

Peter Pan

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Second star to the right and straight off till morning!

Peter pan never grows old. NEVER.

That is just so cool.

Being Peter would probably be the best thing ever, playing all day, flying in the clouds, exploring new places and going on great adventures. (and occasionally fighting off that one annoying pirate)

I miss playing all day.

But then again there’s so much to growing older that I’ve still yet to experience! Not that I’d want to miss out on any of that..

I remember Wendy did have the choice of staying with Peter. She could have lived in Neverland forever, but she chose to say goodbye to him, didn’t she? And she grew up, got married and had a wonderful family of her own.

I wonder if I would have chosen to go with Peter Pan instead if I were her.

But I’m sure there are other ways to remain a child forever.

Dreams and stuff.

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I’ve always wondered where our dreams come from.

It’s really cool that while we sleep, the other half of our brains (the right side, I think) goes completely bonkers and makes up all sorts of weird things. 

Just this morning I woke up feeling horrible and I always wake up remembering what I dream…for about 5 minutes before it completely dissolves in my conscious mind. And nothing’s left of it and it’s completely forgotten. (And this, folks, is why you should jump out of bed immediately to record them down)

It was only while I was going through the day that it suddenly came to me, just short scraps of the dream, but I got the general feeling of it. It was extremely uncomfortable. That was all I remembered feeling.

Maybe…

Our dreams are really a window to an alternate reality. Some other dimension of ourselves that we’re not supposed to be aware of living in another universe and dimension. But we’re still linked to our ‘other’ selves because…well…you just have to be linked if you’re the same person right?

Or maybe…

I got this idea after reading Neil Gaiman’s The ocean at the end of the Lane. 

What if we do actually go through some weird crazy encounters in our lives but just don’t remember them because they’ve been ‘snipped’ out of our reality?

So let’s say I have a dream about being chased by wolves in a shopping mall. What if it DID really happen but someone had just snipped it out of my memory and didn’t do a very good job of it so I remember some parts when I sleep?  What if we’ve all actually met fairies and done crazy things 

like flying and falling through space, and it’s just that we get these memories erased to prevent us from going crazy? And we’re all just continuing on with life not knowing anything at all. 

Like Roy.

 

When I dream, sometimes I dream of places I’ve never been before, places I’ve never seen. And I dream of these places over and over again. I find myself waking up 

remembering a dream and thinking, “Well that was familiar!” The record I’ve had for dreaming about the same place was over 5 times. I remember it very clearly, even till now. 

Some people believe in dream-reading. That dreams tell you something about your life now. If that’s true, I totally understand why I dreamt what I dreamt this morning. 

When we dream, perhaps the part of our brains that make us adult-like switches off completely, and we’re in a state where anything is possible.

We don’t question what happens in dreams, no matter how weird it can be. While I’m dreaming, I really believe, at whatever point that it is happening, that everything that happens is truly happening to me.

You don’t just go into a dream and say, “Hold on, this musn’t be real how can space kangaroos exist? (or something)” You just go with the dream until you wake up and think about just how silly you were even believing that it was all real just a few seconds ago.

The dreams we have tell us a little more about who we are as people I guess. 

It’s like a little window into the deepest depths of your brain, that’s why I love listening to people talk about their dreams. And why I love dreaming too.

This morning’s dream reminded me of how much of a coward I was. 

Why do I always run away from things, hide from things. I don’t even know why I’m trying to hide! Or what I’m scared of, exactly. I feel like history’s repeating all over again, this time on a really minor scale. I’m not totally freaked out. Just uncomfortable.

I think I shall think about this more.

 

 

Sea Shell

I once believed that you could hear the ocean if you held a seashell very tightly against your ear. It was something I was told as a child, and I always found it so very magical.

How cool is that?

It’s like having a piece of the ocean floor recorded just for you, in something so small it could fit into your palm. I really did believe that wooshing sound came from the waves and currents above, and when I closed my eyes, and listened intently, concentrating on that woosh, I could imagine myself very clearly in the sea. And the ocean would be a greenish blue, slightly dark, but there wouldn’t be anything more than that.

It would be quiet, and still. And I would hear the echoes of the ocean floor. And sometimes the woosh would be low, and sometimes it would be high, depending on how far you held the shell to your ear. And I had thought I was hearing the ocean floor, right at that moment, where the shell had once been.

I remember listening hard for fish. But I didn’t know how fish sound like at the time, so in my ocean there were no fish.

There must have been some connection between the ocean and the shell. And i loved that connection. I would lie down in my bed with that shell cupped against my ear until I fell asleep just listening to the sound of the sea.

I would be floating at the bottom of the ocean, just me, by myself, in total peace and stillness, and that helped me sleep. But still no fish.

I read somewhere that it was really just me hearing the sound of my own blood rushing within their vessels.

Pah.

Cool, but not as cool as the ocean.

I wish I hadn’t known that. Like how I came to know how rainbows formed, or how shooting stars didn’t fall down to earth.or that the community centre just down the street wasn’t really a satellite. (Like how my grandparents had told me) It really did look like a satellite to me.

Sometimes knowing too much spoils the magic of things. The wonder. The awe.

Knowing too much limits you, and ‘anything is possible’ means nothing because that’s when impossibility becomes a reality.

But … I’d rather it was the ocean.

So I shall just believe in what little I can that it is!