Friday, October 14, 2005
i liked what my lit lecturer said on wednesday.
Emotions.. or rather pain, she says, we can try to talk round it, talk about it, attempt to recreate it, but the wonderful thing about it is its elusiveness. emotion is contrived when we try to write about it, it can never be fully sustained by mere words methinks. and no i'm not "paining".
i mustered up enough strength to go downstairs for dinner at about 9pm. and thought long and hard about a walk to the dvd store. tis a good night for some visual splendor, anyways, i went.. and i left my handphone at home and took a slow stroll to the interchange. i like cheap thrills like this. faking the illusion that i'm a misanthropist, the childish notion that i'm uncontactable from the world, while harbouring silly anticipations of checking the (many, i hope) missed calls and unanswered smses after. hoho, bored am i to even think about telling you this.
and today afternoon i walked home too.. the back way. it's an unusual way, not many people have walked this stretch of road with me. only those who've stuck with me since primary or secondary days will remember this secret passage. and i thought to myself.. what a way to classify friends and the level of intimacy eh? those who have never walked home with me through the back way before and those who have. but i was doing alot of thinking.. and i realised this absurd form of classification hold water.
i've been living in this house for the past 9 years now. and i'm in love with the neighbourhood, the lonely stretch of road at night, the moonlight silvering the silvered lampposts and the playground just outside my house that seems to sit on placid waters. and as i was walking home this afternoon, it suddenly dawned upon me that i've grown up, and it made me rather rueful and sad.
i was 10 years old when we first moved, thirteen came and joyce's childhood friend crashed her bicycle against a flowerpot, fourteen; a new neighbour arrived, sixteen, and joyce found a new blindspot just off the back of her house. seventeen and joyce embarked on the most momentous 2 year journey of her life, eighteen; and she savoured the solitude of walking home alone in nightly shadows. now, full of nineteen, she has found a new song. she still takes pleasure continuing the nightwalking ritual, oh but this time, with the lavendar smell of reminiscence pervading all around. Joyce Lim unzipped at 11:17 PM with 0 comments
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