the dance of the ink riddled fingers

fracturing me

Posted in 52 pickup, epiphany tiffany, how was your day? by enisea on 20/05/2014

There wasn’t the time to even comprehend regret. It started as a thought and the second I’d agreed with the idea, I was flying through midair summersault crying out in surprise and with no time to anticipate how to brace myself from the catapult. Drawn with great magnetism to the edge of the asphalt track, I connecting with the unrefined concrete. My face grazed shallowly against the path, thanks to the chunky helmet that I had reluctantly begun the journey with. Still the head banging (twice that I recalled) ricocheted confusion.  Almost simultaneously, there entered with heavy intrusion, the means of all this pain, the silver frame of my father’s bicycle. Instinctively, I tried to lift myself from this position of pain, but after an exhausted attempt to free myself from the collapsed metal atop of me, I gave up and my body groaned with overall displeasure. Alas, I waited a torturous ten seconds or so while my husband ran over to me to collect my damaged body and defend my legs from merciless mosquitoes.

Since then, it’s been three long days between roundabout appointments, waiting and wishing for morning because this is the least I’ve enjoyed sleep.  This said, I do feel a little stronger each day, regarding pain threshold and resolve wise.  It was diagnosed as a hairline fracture along the left arm radial head and neck – amongst grazes and impressive bruises. I felt relief for being a sook over a fracture (though I never cried about the pain); if it were only a sprain, I might be accused of being rather weak. Weakness.  Ahh, that nemesis of mine whom I both love and loath.  I’ve been perpetually confronted with most manners of weakness these last few days: physical pain, uncertainty, self-pity, feelings of inadequacy, requiring help for menial tasks, tiredness, the thought of being burdensome upon the love of my life, having a shorter fuse, and being very slow, etc…

Yet, how much my spirit has heaved relief at the very obvious reminder that I am not invincible, nor was I ever independent of anyone.  It also forced patience to begin that painful work of accepting with grace those unable to meet “normal” expectations – namely myself this time.  It also gave a noticeable leap to that challenge within me to make the most of every scenario.  It seemed that when I had finally begun to enjoy and rest in the slowing down, it was almost immediately that Hectic revved up and I found myself dreading my usual schedule – exhausted.  My emotions have been achingly unpredictable.  However, I think now I have embraced this fracture to my norm.  After all, apparently, bones will never break in the same place twice, because once recovered, are stronger than before – I take it this applies to life also.

My latest cerebral celebration is the growing determination to need to overcome.  Thoughts about learning every way to be single-handed for the next few weeks/months.  I’m still rather proud of being able to satisfactorily and quite quickly tie my shoelaces with my right hand, alone.

My imagination falls short of what I know this experience is going to teach me.  But I am incredibly humbled and anticipating epiphanies of how blessed I am to have, well, everything and everyone in my life.  At this early stage of recovery, I am already amazed at my exceptional husband, friends and my students who excited tell me they’ve been praying for me.  I mean, it really isn’t that bad a deal to have a hairline fracture that doesn’t require plastering, in my unpreferred arm.  Perhaps because I’m not one who usually gets sick or stays injured, that this sudden “surprise” really had me evaluating myself and why I was taking it the way I was.

A quote I’ve retained from one high school was “with weakness comes understanding”.  I think my definition of weakness is being recalibrated.  It isn’t weakness having a part of your body not work effectively, it’s a strength learning how to be resourceful and creative enough to compensate for it without complaining.  I’m learning that to endure lack without complaint is never weakness, it is the quiet and solid strength that I admire in others.

I can say this now after pouring my unfamiliarity with pain all out to God who replied with overwhelming peace, assurance and smiles.  I’m not going to be naive in thinking the hardest part is over in this session of fracture, though I’d like to think the hardest part is over.  I’m just grateful that the learning never stops, the loving never stops and I am safe wherever I am, however I am.


blank tile

Posted in how was your day? by enisea on 24/03/2014

There’s that restlessness again.  That infringement on my sense of entitlement.  That unresolved dream that you always wanted… until you got it.

Here’s my internal wrestle. On one hand, I defend my right to have a lazy night.  I’ve done my work, I’ve worked hard during today’s nine to five, and well, and it is my right to dwindle my remaining hours of the today, on nothing.

Though a tiny voice is beginning to awaken : you wanted this, this is what dreams look like – investment, making the most of every moment, not living for yourself, growing pain.

You know what’s annoying? Realising that dying to yourself is a pretty ugly thing to swallow, and it doesn’t come naturally.  Sometimes the self-preservation in me just doesn’t want to have anything to do with most people. Yet I’m susceptible to the “save the world” concept, albeit “save the world with minimal moves”, or when I’m tired I may flush the “save the world” under with urgency to save my world.

Yeah.  I cannot comprehend what this dream is actually going to turn into. I used to think I had an idea, but not anymore.  This is my blank scrabble tile – any word, score or possibility could result; and over this next year, I’ll be seeing what other scrabble letters I’m dealt or get to choose.  Then I’ll have to be creative in rearranging that which I have, for the best possible outcome.

One day I’ll write a book and I won’t be so vague.

appreciating in sleep deprevation

Posted in how was your day? by enisea on 23/10/2013

The dilemma is whether to sleep or… not sleep.  I lose myself sometimes, and I don’t even know what I thought about, or if I thought about anything.

Right now, the wisest thing to do is sleep.  But I’ll be honest, nine days out from walking down the aisle and I finally know what it is to have restless nights.  I never have problems sleeping and will black out usually 64 seconds after my head hits the pillow and my eyes close.  And that still applies in crazy moments like now, so I just don’t go to bed till it’s past my bedtime (11:30pm) and accept the repercussions, like delirium.

It’s everything all at once.  The remembering what we still need to prepare, the packing my things into bags and boxes, the letting go of childhood sentiment, the daydreaming about the big day.  A big part of it is the packing.  I didn’t think it would be this emotionally exhausting packing my life to start up again.  Gee, it’s ridiculously refreshing throwing out the many things that I collected and cared about as a child, that don’t really hold that much value.  It’s nice to know that I care less about “stuff” now.  The toys I liked, the things I used to think were cool, the broken things I refused to throw out – they aren’t coming with me.

But neither is the family that I live with now.  I mean, I’ll visit – but that’s exactly it… it’ll be a visit.  I can’t really imagine what it’ll be like.  I try to.  I don’t get very far.

I have nothing really to say here. I just want to ramble and sit and stay awake.  There is a lot of excitement, but there is a lot of weight too.  This is a big deal.  I’ve never made this large a life decision before.  I’ve never been this far away from family and I’ve never lived with this man I’m about to marry.  It’s all starting to sink in, and I just want to think about it for a whole day, uninterrupted by work, wedding planning, this or that. I just want to sit and think and be blank and do nothing “productive” because I just want to take it all in.  But I know that’s not possible and that’s OK, and it’s probably why I’ll sacrifice my sleep for a few nights because I need some time.  I really need this time.

I’m getting married.

I’m not going to be a Fong anymore.

I’m going to have somebody other than my parents looking after me.

I’m going to have to look after myself and my husband.

I’m really starting to appreciate my last days as a “child”. I know, I know, twenty four year olds probably shouldn’t identify themselves as children.  But marriage really is saying goodbye to childhood.  It’s different.  It’s different.  I take none of this lightly.  I am leaving the umbrella of my parents and opening up my own, and I’ll start taking care of a whole new family, raising them to get further than me in life and to do greater things.

My life is full of love.

So. Much. Hallelujah.

what madness, this.

Posted in how was your day?, thought spills by enisea on 11/08/2013

This madness is snowballing in the most ridiculous, incredible and almost overwhelming ways!

Never have I felt so enthralled, rushed and happy-scared in my life.  As though I were waiting for this wave, lying patiently on a surfboard as the greatest wave I’ve yet to have seen wells behind me.  And having turned around and started paddling, the wave urges my board onwards and I try my hardest to stand to my feet and keep balance as the momentum gains and I find myself gliding in awe to the shore.

Sure, 82 days mightn’t sound like a very short time for you.  But when there are only 40 days until the next school holidays and each working week flies because children move fast and every weekend until then has been planned for.  When those two weeks of school holidays will be heavily spent in painting and moving things into the humble abode my husband-to-be and I will call our home.  And amidst trying to plan for teaching, and a wedding and honeymoon, I’ve got to train for that half marathon I stubbornly signed up for in October.

Needless to say, I have more on my plate than normal and the only way I will survive it all very well is by the grace of God!

In the next five days… I’ve got to write an article for the local paper, prepare for this coming sunday’s kid’s church lesson, get back into marathon training, hand over my teaching roll and train up another, complete my VIT application, meet with a couple of wedding prep people, volunteer at the church’s community feed and find time for one date-night midweek.  I’m a little dizzied by the week already but every time I start to lean towards anxiety, I run quickly into the arms of a saving God – whom none of this phases.  And even when seemingly time poor, while wondering very curiously how everything is going to be paid for, somehow I lack nothing.  Somehow there is enough time/money/love to go around.  Somehow I am still richer now than I ever have been.  The amazing part is that the peace grows every day to swallow the mounting responsibility and ambition that I seem to accumulate.

It appears to me that one can become climatised to madness.  I’ve testing that if you often give occasion to your feet to hit the ground running, they will become used to doing so.  I tell you, with clumsy feet like mine, apparently all things are possible.  It probably helps being in love with a madman whose life is also very very full, who is also extremely ambitious and endlessly encouraging, supportive, constructive and a man who inspires me to run to keep up with him.  This life is crazy, and something would be wrong if it wasn’t.  This love is mad and it keeps me alive and fighting.  This light is refreshing and hope never ceases.

I could wish that everybody tastes madness in life – the good kind, where you can barely understand it but love every moment about it.

I would hate to be overwhelmed by the craziness of this world; to be disheartened and afraid.  Peace is my salvation and a ferocious love guards me from the harshness of uncertainty.  I am certain that I am safe. I am sure that good comes from every circumstance.  Freedom is mine and I am loved.

It exists. It really does.

grade three life lessons

It was 3:05pm when I walked out of the classroom with various worksheets ready to multiply into class copies in one hand and porcelain cup in the other (and bottle of tomato sauce under arm – today was lunch order day).

As I walked the freshly painted path along the perimeter of the classrooms, I imagined some canon in H major being played on an out of scene piano as I slow-motioned my way to the staff room.  Smirking at my imaginary dramatisation of having paralleled today’s procession with fireworks going off in the grade three classroom, I breathed deeply and tried to refresh my perspective. I had to smile at my lack of understanding and the ridiculousness of children… and probably my inability to comprehend them.  Sometimes they puzzle me so, and I just want to smile or laugh… but I have to do it in secret – lest they think I find their misbehaviour amusing. I don’t. I seriously don’t.

Yet I cannot help but wonder what the perfect classroom looks like – and for who? A teacher’s definition of perfect is most definitely different from an eight year old’s definition of perfect.  I’m learning that I cannot control the classroom… and I don’t want to.  I want to do it differently (I’m aware that this is a dangerous thought).  What do I want?

I want absolutely respectful children to find joy in learning infinite amounts, to challenge themselves and continually rewrite their own personal bests; to accept good things and reject bad things; to be resilient and not petty; to love diversity and always play to each other’s strengths; to be confident enough to try and self-esteemed enough to not fear mistakes, instead learning from them; to learn the power of silence (in concentration, self control, and ignoring stupid things other children say); to know who they are… etc, etc. To put it short, I want a million things of children and expect that it is possible.  But such expectation means that days like today can take a toll on such expectant hopefuls.

I’ve just discovered that the most terrifying and God-graceful thing about being a teacher is realising that of all the specks I see around the classroom… they are nothing on the log that I lug around and justify as “me”.  It is amazing that I get to learn very humbling lessons from children without them knowing it, and not feel the pressure to change – I merely want to.  How’s this for cool: the only thing these children don’t like about any of their teachers is that they get in trouble from them – there is nothing about any of us that they know to disapprove of.  They don’t tell us to change, they don’t tell us what we should be.  They get to teach us without either of us even knowing it most of the time.

I am no more perfect than they – perhaps a tad more experienced and matured (one could hope).  Alas I come to the end of myself here.  I am realising almost all of my weaknesses in this grade three classroom. I’m learning more about myself and my ways of dealing with problems (and them) and how effective they really are.  If anything, these children are schooling me on how humanity acts and reacts in various circumstances (myself included).  They are merely shorter and more honest representations of adults.

They’re changing me, little by little, these eight year olds are hitting something very close to my heart. Perhaps they’re actually hitting my heart; because, of every person in my life, they know how best to irk me without even knowing it. They also know how to make me smile and chuckle to myself without knowing it.  They make me wonder about them without even knowing it.  They make me sad when their families are in a rough patch, without me knowing that I’m sad until another teacher asks me why I look sad.  They make me proud of them for the simplest things.  Their habit of stating the obvious make me want to cry and burst out laughing simultaneously. Today I got a classic, “Miss, you look very angry”, and with five spoken words, one ridiculous girl broke my anger (but I made sure not to smile because I was trying to get a point across).

I suppose this is a rant/boast about the ins and outs of the best job in the world.  People who find out I did kindergarten teaching and now primary look at me with respect and tell me I must have a lot of patience.  I suppose I’d like to think that I have.  But secretly, working with children requires much less patience than working with adults and never ceases to reward.

Interestingly, I’m finding it harder to be social with adults than I am with children – unless the adults have something to do with children because anyone with anything to do with children could talk about children until their voice gives out.

Towards the end of my frazzled day, my conversation with the bus girls entailed excited stories on the many methods and experiences of losing teeth.  It was really good conversation!  You just don’t really have those kinds of conversations with grown ups who’ve forgotten the joys of each process of growth.

I’ll leave you with this – of all the people with the most patience in the world.  These children, though they may get impatient about the petty things, are the most patient with the most important things.  And you know patience by abilities to forgive.  Children forgive easily.  And knowing that I can come to school each day and as long as I smile in the morning, these children are going to smile back (bigger) – regardless of the detentions I may have had to distribute the day before – makes it easy to love my job.

They are good to me, these children.  Even if they aren’t always “good”.

well, that’s part of life…

Posted in "stuff", epiphany tiffany, how was your day? by enisea on 11/07/2013

With networks like facebook, and exagerations of friendship circles, it’s no wonder we are bombarded with the lives of others – we chose to be.  What’s more, with supposedly 802 friends, statistically I shouldn’t be surprised when news comes that one of them just died this morning.

I haven’t seen him in person for at least three years, and I knew him very little, but still there’s a distance sadness that comes with not knowing what happened and that life was lost “early”.  I won’t pretend that I’m mourning somebody I hardly knew, or that I need any sympathy.  I think what’s shocked me is the reminder that death happens and our time here is not at all guaranteed until the age of 70, which we mindlessly assume; being young – that we will get the opportunity to grow old.  I suppose, there’s also the shocking reality that I have a stupendous amount of “friends” on facebook, yet one has died and I don’t know how, and the other week I was introduced to another that I was supposedly “friends” with on facebook – and I didn’t know her until tracing back relationships.  I even have a personal policy that I will not accept friendships with people I’ve never met – yet still I don’t know most of these people.

Of the time I did know this late friend, what he contributed to my news feed was mostly loneliness and crudeness. I don’t know which is sadder, that he died young, or that it seemed like he had more friends after he’d died than while he lived.

Aside from broadcasting our own boasts of how great our own lives are, photos and all, perhaps we should take all the necessary meaning of being “friends” with them and  totally remember them while they live.  Just saying.


The cashier watched me curiously as I tried pathetically to look like I had a purpose for loitering around the front of the small local grocery store.   My eyes flittered across the lolly selection, strategically placed at the front counter.  Then walking to the lolly aisle, choosing a box of tictacs, I fiddled with it and then put it back; keeping a careful watch on the old guy with the walking stick at the far right corner of the little store.  He had been talking to the staff stacking shelves for about eight minutes now and my restlessness was growing.  I paced a little, walking the inside perimeter of the cool section and then into the alcoholic beverages area.  I smirked, betting I probably looked about 16.  In this time about seven others had walked in and out of the store and I sussed out each individual, trying to work out whether it was any of them.  Blank. The only person I was keenly aware of was him, elderly Mr. Conversation.  And with a sigh of relief, I heard him round up his stories with the stockist and watched him hobble his way down the breakfast isle, scooping up a small box of cereal in his stride.  

He came behind me  into what had thankfully appeared as a que for the single cashier.  And as the man in front of me was paying, I turned around, sized him up and asked instinctively, “Do you need a hand?”

Standing awkwardly with walking sticking under arm, one bottle of tomato sauce in right hand, cereal in the other, he replied, “I’m about to fall over”, and my heart chuckled. Relieving him of his two burdensome goods and placing them on the counter, I finally met the eyes of the cashier and smiled, “I’ll take these for the gentleman.”  

“Is that why you were hanging around here?”
“Well, he took so long talking.”

Mr. Conversation was getting his wallet out and his limited agility meant that I had swiped and smiled before he had realised.  And as the cashier waved away his money, he stood there confused, looking to me, then the cashier and back again.

“Strangely enough, I was at home, and God told me to come here to pay for your groceries, so I ran here and waited for you” I said, still coming to terms with it in my own head.

“Oh God bless you, young lady! What would make you do that? Tell me your name. What school do you go to? You didn’t have to do that!…” 

He reached over to take back his things but I drew them away, “Which way are you going? I can take them for you.”

And so began my wonderment for yesterday.

We walked slowly, granted, and in that space of time – about forty-six minutes – a new found friend had opened his life to me, made me smile, taught me about things I’d never heard about and sunned my spirit!

His name was Graeme and he was just over six foot, with a whole head of perfectly white hair.  In my first two minutes with him, I’d learnt that he had an amputated toe (due to diabetics, and him not looking after himself as well as his late wife had).  He told me about his bung knee and how it had pained him since 80, but his Hungarian walking stick had been a help.  When I asked how old he was now, he told me 84, and I remarked “So you have your best years ahead of you!” To which, he knocked back his head and let out a trumpeting “AHAHA”, then almost embarrassed about that unexpected release of childish amusement, continued conversation as per composed 84 year old’s do.

Turns out he was qualified in economics but when that industry withheld occupations from him, he became a teacher – and never looked back.  Working at several school in Australia and one in Singapore, we talked about schools, and Singapore. I learnt about his family; that his granddaughter wanted to be a ballerina, his daughter was studying at ACU to be a teacher, his father was an ANZAC and his great great (great?) grandfather was a nightpoacher who caught rabbits from private property and was shipped to Australia for his crime – from whence the family became Australian.

He told me fondly that he played bowls four times a week and had another game at 1:30 that afternoon, followed by a barbeque (which he’d bought the tomato sauce for).

He counted to ten for me in both Romanian and Serbian, and recalled to me the first time he’d heard Bahasa Malay, reciting “eighteen dollars” for me in the then local tongue (which I’ve of course forgotten by now).  He gave me an insightful history lesson on Hungary, Anglican church origin and told me a little about his travels.

We finally approached his new little white car, which he described as the smallest car that could fit him.  He even admitted he didn’t know if he’d still be driving after his current three year licence expired. We stood there talking for a good while longer, and my eyes tired with the brightness of the sky. But my smile wasn’t phased as he told me wonderful things. Wonderful, because he had a wealth of knowledge, a richness of stories and a humble sense of humour! Of every word he spoke, and every story he told me from his 84 years of life – there was not a word of complaint: no complaint about his diabetes, missing his wife, his sore knee.  No pity for himself, no sorrow, nor regret or bitterness.  Here was a man that I was very much beginning to love.  He was sweet as well.  Before he farewelled me, he insisted I kiss him on the cheek.  Then suggestively leant his right cheek down to me, and I obliged, smirking that my 25 year old fiancé need not be threatened by my new 84 year old friend.

What character! Graeme, you beautiful heart, you!

– – – – –

Haha, I write this not to boast any good deeds, but to remind every young person that the most incredible characters are not unusually three times your age.  Also to give testimony that love and care for even strangers – in the simplest of ways will do more good than you can know, enriching your life probably more than the recipient’s.

Where this is coming from: I’m beginning to learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Beginning to learn what it means.  About how reciting the entire book of John will not change my life (or anybody else’s) unless I am serious about deciding to love those within my vicinity. And if more people on this planet would consciously love others, the population of humanity would actually believe in love and how wonderful it is (and it wouldn’t take believers so long to convince non-believers – and themselves – to believe in Love, because they’d encountered it before). 

Here’s some suggestions, simple ideas that won’t put you out of pocket more than $3: when you go to the shops, buy an extra chocolate bar and then give it to the cashier, and thank them by name (they have nametags for a reason). In the coffee line of your usual cafe, buy the coffee for the person behind you.  Write on the back of your restaurant bill and leave it for the waiter/waitress telling them how amazing they are (whether you ‘felt’ they were or not!). Just try to make it a way of life to love on those around you – without the condition of them knowing you or having to be nice to you!

I’ll cap it off with this, [for the crazy Christians out there:] at the end of my lovely moment with Graeme, I casually told him “You know your leg won’t be causing you too much trouble from now on”.  Sure, I believe that Jesus heals, but I didn’t need to pray fervently at 90 decibels for it to transpire. What was very encouraging though, is that he believed with me; and just as a token, told me to touch his knee because he’d read stories where touching brought healing, so I did.  Then we left it at that! 

Haha, and yes, I know there is still an infinite amount of things I need to learn about love, real love, and how Jesus loves and sees every single incredible human being, and even every single horrible human being.  Sure I’ve have my less than lovely moments, and people who I’ve grown impatient with. But I’m not going to stir you about who deserves love and who doesn’t.  I’ve been told to love and that’s what I’m learning to do, I just had a cool story to share.

Mind you, not all love stories will go that way and they may not be that fun, but who knows, you’ll have to love to find out…

hello frank

Posted in how was your day?, thought spills by enisea on 06/05/2013

I’m sorry I took so long, but I’ve got a lot to tell you in only a few words. ‘Few’ because it’ll take too long to decide which words to use, not to mention not completely understanding the ‘a lot’ that is actually happening to me.

Something is happening to me.

There, I was frank.

As you may/may not have been able to tell by my last year of writing/bloggerneglect, I was stuck in a straight place for a long/short while (depends what you’d consider about a year – I can’t even measure how long it is).  Despite life being great over my entire life, it was not its best.  I’ve struggled with particular frustrations since I learnt how to think critically.  Life was a love-hate thing which I tug-o-warred with.

And now, in my uncleverly gathered attempt at coherent explanation, I do, so much, want to tell you about how awkwardly life is being broken down for me into matters of importance.

The way I’ll tell you “something is happening to me”, I can only imagine describing to you in the sense that the world looks different from where I stand now. That, or I’m standing in a different place.  And I’m not going to humour you with blah blah blahs on  what might sound like my ‘state of enlightenment’, but all I know is that I’m discovering freedom.  I’m tasting it.

I’ll be  resolute in that I don’t want to forget it.

Truth is concrete and love is sand – go and rub some in your eyes and start realising the world differently.

That is all.

Ps: writing ability is actually secondary.

we leave tomorrow

Posted in how was your day? by enisea on 03/03/2013

for the land of American dreams.


Posted in 52 pickup, how was your day? by enisea on 16/02/2013

Sometimes there is just too much to be discontent with.  The world is incomplete and you find yourself critiquing the imperfect parts of yourself.  Nothing seems perfect… because you won’t let yourself believe it.  Too long have you been naive about how wonderful and promising life was meant to be for you, but one is inclined to reconsider thoughts of ridiculous anti-gravity when you think you’re the only one with them. But you’re not.

In those slumps, there is nothing useful to think but “Hallelujah”.  And nothing more beneficial to do than thank God for every time before that your dreams escaped your overprotective suppression – because we feared disappointment.

Thank you God that there are so many more dreamers in the world – not disillusioned by hope deferred.  Thank you that children everywhere in the world laugh uncontrollably.  That trees worldwide still supply sufficient oxygen for over 7 billion people and even more animals.  Thank you that there are incredible people in my life who remain in my life, especially when I take most of them for granted. Thank you that you think that I’m beautiful. Thank you that the opportunities to love, hope and smile never cease.  Thank you for every flavour of icecream that exists.  Thank you for every creatively clean comedian.  Thank you for sunshine, thunder and applauses.  Thank you that I am twenty three, healthy and highly favoured.  Thank you that these dreams will never sleep, never stop growing and never stop challenging me to think bigger. Thank you that when the sorrows last for a night, that joy comes in the morning.


half everything, full smile.

Posted in how was your day? by enisea on 14/01/2013

She found herself surrounded in half of everything.  As though every catergory had been opened and the contents had been positioned strategically around the living quarters of her mind.  She was halfway through four books and hardly remembered nor cared about them.  She considered starting another, and did – wishing silently that she was the kind who could look at a page for 5 seconds and have read it.  She wanted to be so much wiser… and an inch taller. One unwrapped present, two undelivered cards and one empty card waiting to be written (of whose addresses she couldn’t remember) sat within arms reach, annoying her.  There were also photos that didn’t fit in photo albums and plain white t-shirts that hadn’t yet been tie-dyed.  A sock she had halfway sown into a zebra…a year or two ago, sat forlorn and dusty, with limbs yet to be attached.  Bits and pieces all over her life seemed to reiterate that unfinished business was fashionable here.

She just wanted things to be done: her room cleaned, gifts delivered, book written, everything known and everything in its right place – as though maybe the world could be perfect.

Smirking at her own nerve to have so much want of everything, she couldn’t help feeling ridiculously content.


Posted in 52 pickup, heroes of mine, how was your day? by enisea on 26/11/2012

Currently, life is a corridor.  I’ve never felt this sure about being unsure in my life.  There exists a strange contentment about smiling mildly and not exactly knowing what comes next. Because I seemed to have known what I supposedly wanted to do before I knew what I really wanted.  Now I’m learning about what I want, and what’s worth wanting… and I’m wondering what to do about it.

The last three hours have seemed to evade me, ever since I told time that it wouldn’t rule me. So, as though to provoke me to panic, it flew past and still I am here, defying it… I think.  What if I told you time was brittle?  That if you wanted, you could make sure you always had enough of it by defying the conventions of understanding it.  Sort of like always having enough money because you work, get paid, and spend your money well, but never looking at your bank balance and therefore never wondering if you could have more – because you don’t need more, you’ve just heard that if you had more you could do more with it – which is true and not true at the same time. Because if you had more money, you mightn’t do more with it than living a good life, because a good life is more than having as much money as you want.  There are many, aren’t there, who live poorer lives because they’ve overvalued the quantity and undervalued their quality.

Haha, yes – really simple thoughts today. I feel like a 1990 computer operating system – as though my thoughts really couldn’t process any faster than primitive and very young understandings.  I think today I’ve been repulsed by complexity and I desire simplicity.  Why isn’t life as simple as having enough and loving abundantly? Haha, what if it is that simple and we’ve all been too stupid to realise that?  What if my life isn’t about setting me up and having what I want?

I know a woman who’s life is not hers.  She has no life other than her four recent foster children.  She struggles and she struggles, but boy does she love! She is not perfect, and she probably feels rather lonely and/or overwhelmed frequently.  She has no particular talents to build her pride up against, and you wouldn’t find her interested in anything regarding exterior beauty and she is bald.  But she loves. She is tired and still, she loves.  Oh, when she talks about her children – there is a little frustration, there is the pain that she feels for them, but there is so much love.  I don’t know another, to be very honest with you, who has loved at such a capacity as her – that I know of, personally.  Her life has translated into making the lives of four children whom she did not birth, into beautiful lives.   And somehow, that humility of hers scares me – because it seems hard, really hard.  I sort of care about myself- probably more than I should.

To pray for others more than myself.  To care about others more than myself.  To cheer for their successes rather than promote my own.  To protect others as much as I protect myself.  To love as love is defined.

Haha, I wonder, when our lives here are finishing, if the only question we will be asked is “So, in your 87 years of life, did you love properly?”

What if the greatest success of life was ensuring that you helped as many as you could ‘love properly’. Not: build your dream home, having 2.4 children, own 2 cars, pay off your mortgage, own every apple product, and have enough to pay for your children’s education.

Haha, I know, mid-midlife crisis. I won’t lie, the idea of severing myself from electronic technology and trekking through a foreign wilderness sounds rather appealing right now.

This whole: I DON’T UNDERSTAND MY LIFE and WHAT’S LOVE GOT TO DO (got to do with it?) has hazed my morning.

Yes, I feel very much like the only way to justify life today would be to be crazy: shout, sing, smile like a maniac, kiss my family, celebrate life and help an old lady to cross the road… I really shouldn’t let myself blog on these sorts of mornings – it makes my insanity rather public, though it’s strangely pleasurable not being cool, calm and well written.

whose fault is it that we have teenagers?

Posted in how was your day?, thought spills by enisea on 14/11/2012

Ok, so you see the occasional article on facebook. Here’s one that made me smirk.  Sure, there are elements of truth in here, there are elements of urgency, and there are elements of wisdom – meanwhile there is also frustration, a neglect of responsibility on community/parent responsibility… and a sadness that people will forever argue over the menial technicalities when we all actually agree with wanting the world to be a better place.

Our teenagers are our offspring (ok, so I don’t have children, you get my drift).  They are the product of our community!  They weren’t unwilling dropped from another planet – if they learnt apathy/disrespect/self-pity/laziness, where do you think they learnt that from?

And if the community didn’t raise these children, who has, and why did we let them?

I’m not at all disqualifying everything the article said – I agree! I’m just wondering how many young people are able to say their parents/community are the first examples they have of responsible people who are giving their time, energy and talent so that no one will be at war, in sickness or lonely again.

How could our generation, one day, be the parents to showcase that?

the scenic route

let it pass

Posted in epiphany tiffany, how was your day?, the poet-tree by enisea on 22/10/2012

“Let it pass”
Was the whisper as another wave welled
Of memory and want and some surface spell

I was one of the many,
Recently migrated here,
To learn of addiction
And how not to adhere.

Just don’t entertain it
Don’t fall for those traps
Brace yourself, clutch a hand
And let it just pass

Celebrate every time
You didn’t scratch that itch
Watch the swelling subside
And heal well in its stitch

Let it pass and you’ll find
that it gratifies little
Grow stronger and smarter
as it becomes brittle.

Then find yet another
Not far from your class
A fellow to whisper reminder to
“Let it pass”.