Do you see me?

You come by and say hello
have a conversation before you go
But do you see me?


Or am I just the fool who greets you
as you walk into the room
make you feel like a million stars
no judgement, no scars


Why do you walk past me
right there out on the streets
blatantly shielding your eyes
Do you not want me to see your lie?


Will I make you poor
from the gift of your smile
or will that put a fine line
another wrinkle around your eyes?


But I see you now for what you are
another being with a scar
I hope it makes you feel like a million stars
You, another being, with the scar

I looked at the mirror today and just noticed a few more strands of grey. No matter how I pluck them out, they grow again and again and again, not knowing they are unwelcome to join the others.

I found those lines sitting in my draft post - from 2009!  I have 16 unfinished blogposts and will attempt to post them up as and when the inspiration to continue with it hits me.  They feel so detached from me now - "Did I write that?  Why did I start that and in what relation it is to?"  Those opening lines were written then, can I bring it back to present and make it relevant to me now?

I can definitely relate to grey hairs and unfortunately, relevant.  I shall continue on from the post above:

I looked at the mirror today and just noticed a few more strands of grey. No matter how I pluck them out, they grow again and again and again, not knowing they are unwelcome to join the others.

I don't stop them now. I can't.

Some wear them with pride.  Like a crown of wisdom.  Some with embarrassment - "I need to see my colourist - my roots are showing!"

Don't stop me now.  You can't stop them.

In the end, we all turn grey.  The grey will turn white.  The whites will stay.  In the end, we are ashes and dust.

Petal P. Rose

 

Well, well.

Wowsers....has it been that long?!  I decided to have a peek at this blogsphere and realised that I last wrote in 2010.

So much has happened since then that it's difficult to capture each and every moment.  I've now "grown-up", engaged, with a house and mortgage and getting married next year - unreal!  I've also decided to take a sabbatical from the boredom of working as a corporate rat and climbing endless ladders and signed up to study remedial massage.  Quite the 360 degree but I figure, it's an industry that will not die and something that I can do on the side.  If it doesn't work out, I can always go back to being a boring corporate rate, climbing endless ladders - blagging my way through, coupled with massive dosages of alcohol and mindless dribble - NOT.

Thing is, I've decided to re-assess my life as a whole.  Re-jig my priorities.  Priorities that mattered then, do not matter now.  I don't want to be stuck in a job where it feels that I'm pushing through resistant tidal waves.  I want to focus on the softer things in life - looking after myself, my fiancé, building home and family.  It really puts things into perspective - that all the years of corporate climbing is no longer important.  Don't get me wrong - that's all good et all, but taking stock, no amount of money or applause or clap on the back for a job well done is going to cut it.  We spend so much of life investing and focusing on that damn ladder and wanting some sort of validation or recognition.  What does that do?  Why do we not invest as much as or even more, towards ourselves?  Where the rewards are not tangible at times but surely, it pays better?  Some might argue that by chasing that ladder, that it is a self investment but there are other aspects of self, no?  This is my take on things, anyway, it's too long an argument to go into on a blog.  I thought of remedial massage as that is a way of taking care of yourself.  I've just started on this journey.  Thing is yes, we need to learn the technical stuff but at the same time, this course makes me think and be self-aware.  I get such headache reading my course material because it makes me pause, think and check myself.

I'm also reading through my past posts and I wonder where that creative aspect of me has gone hiding?  I used to be active in the arts.  I want to get back into it.  There are so many things I'd like to do before I leave this world and I am grateful that I have the chance now - now is never too late.  All the things that have fallen wayside in the pursuit of ......I don't know what now, I can't remember!  Music, photography, arts - things that make me tick - that would be part of my focus, part of my personal investment.  I am not just a corporate rat, I am more than that and I hope you recognise that in yourself and keep reminding yourself before you forget the essence of you.

Petal P. Rose

There they sat, still in their clatter

silence in their defiance, they mock me:

"You are not our master, we are waiting for him to come home."

I whip them into motion with my bare hands

I poured hot insults onto their cool, smug surfaces

With frustration, I flung them

into the fiery furnace - burn, baby, burn

Who is your master now?

I dug deep into their core, till they throw up onto the counter

And I, exhausted, served them up on the

etched pretty platter.

I smiled.

Love,

Petal P. Rose

Today.

Today I spent the afternoon sitting in my backyard, amongst the lemon tree, grass, leaves, grape vines, lavender bushes and not to mention the ants and bugs.

I watched the butterflies flitting and flirting with each other against the blue crowded sky. White on white on white, marred only by the shine of the brilliant Mr Sun. The ants worked extra hard climbing over the mounts of my wrinkled mat, over my skin and toes, scurrying hurriedly with some place to go, with no place to be but here. I listened to the gossip of the neighbours, the extra unannounced guest - smirking as they laugh, sharing their jokes but yet not quite sharing. The wind, it blows to offer abit of respite against harsh Mr Sun, sending the flitting, flirting butterflies off their determined course into an unknown one. It blows as though embarrassed to disturb the intrusion of the scene yet it carresses my back like a well known lover. Made bold by the sigh of contentment from me, the flowers and older leaves, they surrender to fall willingly onto earth, some onto my face as though blessing me with their approval of the sun and the carresses of the wind.

And I think - this is life. This is what makes me happy.

I'm back - ish....

It's been a couple of months since I last wrote, I know. It's been a crazy time till now - I can't wait to see what 2010 will bring. I've decided that for Y2010, that I leave on time, everyday from work and get back on track with my food and fitness. It's always easier said than done.


I don't know why it was that years ago, I could fit it all in and be oh so, disciplined. Okay, so perhaps I had more time on my hand, lesser worries and responsibilities but I refuse to believe that it is the reason. I'm not giving myself room for excuses, I think - which is good....?


I've put some personal projects on hold, aside from the lack of discipline for a fitness routine and diet. There are so many things to focus on - I like to put in 110% effort in all the things that I take up but more and more, I feel like 110% multiplied by X number of "projects" taken on, leaves me with a deficit of 800%. Not good at all, folks, I agree....


If only things run like clockwork and are bang on - but it's too idealistic to even dream of it. Oh well, I'll leave some of these things for the inevitable January 2010...in the meantime, I'm on a well-deserved break down under and may decide to write again before the year is out...or not.

Love,
Petal P. Rose

Dark

I trail my fingers
softly softly by the seams
I close my eyes - I've not seen
yet I believe

Dark and large
Very comfortable, said he....

Is it as dark as liquorice
and warm like chocolate?
Will it taste pleasant in my mouth?

Petal

Lullaby

I want to sleep beside you
tucked into bed by midnight
every night
for as long as forever

steal into my window
blend into the humidity of the dark
a wisp of love
tucked behind my ear

rise and fall in rhythm
like the patterned sheets
harmonising
a duet

I want to sleep beside you
awakened by dawn
for as long as we can
forever's not too long

Love,
Petal P. Rose

The phone

The phone sits muted
by the bedside table
harbinger of news
don't like it when it rings
leave! it's the weekend - i dive under my pillows

i'd rather read the papers
the magazines, the internet
at my own pace
my eyes carress the rounded curves
i put it away to be mulled over

later
later

Petal P. Rose

In your head...

"I am not of this world." "We are not in the same world"

I thrashed my head - side to side


adamant
"I don't believe it! Don't!"
Not for one bit


Hah - not possible, just in your head



Not of this world, not of the universe?




the pieces that don't fit



in your head - - somewhere..






nowhere


but your head.

Petal P. Rose

Obsession

I wonder what it is with all of us. Gone are the days without mobile phones, laptops, PCs and the internet. We are all so connected that the world has indeed become smaller and there is nowhere in the world now to hide.

Worse now that we have Twitter, Facebook and whathaveyous. Every minute of the day, every second is traceable. I admit that I have fallen victim to the modern ways. I no longer can live without the convenience of a mobile phone and the internet. I can put my hands up and say, "Yes, I am addicted to being connected." In fact, so connected that certain phones can't be simply switched off - like the Blackberry and the IPhone for example.

So much so that on my retreat to Samui, I had to force myself to switch my Iphone to the plane mode so I cannot get calls. I was very happy having landed, picked up at the airport, checked in and was given the welcome drink. It was a welcome most refreshing. The resort was silent, not many guests and the stretch where I was - cricket quiet. I could hear myself think and with every turn, the crick of my neck. I was smiling happily away, thinking, bliss....till I got shown my room. Door swings open and greeting me was a bloody PC - sitting docile and obedient. The porter showed me the room, even proudly announced the PC with the internet and proceeded to switch it on. He, of course, didn't know that that was the very thing I was trying to avoid - to avoid being in touch and connected! But I was proud to say that I only connected to Facebook and my email accounts once a day whilst I was there. It was a hard push, not feeding my addiction. I survived but not quite rehabilitated as 5 days is much too short to lapse into inconnectivity.

Why do we have this urge to proclaim every single insignificant move we make on our Facebook or Twitter accounts? Why do we have blogs and autobiographies?

I have a Facebook account; at times, I want to let certain people know how I feel, without really letting on that the status update was targeted at a particular person. Sometimes, I play off someone else's status updates or just want a one-up to beat one of my friends' status updates. It's childish and mindless but hey, it is something that we all do.

I write a blog because I want to record what I think/see/do. I unleash my anger and disappointment here; I liken it to throwing glass or splashing paint at the wall. It is also a creative outlet for me as it is easier than painting where you don't have to set up the easel, paints, etc, etc. My tools would just be the internet, the computer and my inspiration (yes, I am lazy) AND I can be anywhere in the world. No, I don't get anxiety attacks if I don't log into my Facebook accounts or read my email. Neither do I feel like there's something missing in the day if I don't blog (though I must write, so a pad and pencil is the substitute).

Truth is, I think, people blog/write autobiographies/update status on Facebook or Twitter because they are narcisstic. That's the simplest of explanations. Do you really think that your friends are bothered to be kept updated with your every thought or what you are doing? In a(n) (ab)normal world without the internet, a Facebook/Twitter/autobiography would be just someone standing in the middle of the room and telling others in the room know what they are thinking/doing. If your voice is louder, then, I suppose the people in the next few rooms can hear you. Even if its photographs that you put up, it is still a way of telling or bragging.

Hmmm....I don't have exact figures as to how many subscribers there are for Facebook/Twitter, but imagine that number of people, standing side by side, just telling, telling, telling, every single second. Do you realise how much noise we are making, just Facebooking/Twittering - even if we sit in silence in our lonely room? And how silent we have become in real as Facebook / Twitter/internet/mobile phones take over the real talking? Why talk when we can sms, email or Facebook/Twitter? Hmmph...such a twist...

Petal P. Rose

"A little narcissim exists in all of us since birth"

Human Nature

she strides past me
with her head held up high
not even glancing to see me

she doesn't speak to me
my only fault - being alone
here

I come to escape such pettiness
I live it everyday
yet this place offers me no respite
none I see anyway.

her husband sniffs around me
like a beast, circling

his quick flash of smiles
much like the leash that the wife keeps-
short.

"hello, how you doing?"
"doing well - and yourself?"
he prattles on - like I really cared

the wife doesn't know he says hello to me
it's clandestine, this affair

all I'm thinking is,
go back to your cocoon
I don't want your "hello, how you doing"
I prefer to be alone, thanks

i don't want to talk
i don't lack or want company
leave me alone
leave me be

the reason I left
is found(yet again) here
never can escape
this human nature

Petal P. Rose - chilled out in Samui

There are times when I feel that you are so far away. There exists a chasm that I can’t leap to, no matter how hard I try to fill it. I can feel it when you withdraw. I know then that you are thinking of her – the one before me. You won’t admit it, I just wish you would. The words you say to me, at times, it feels that you are saying it to convince yourself. I don’t know how much of it is something you truly feel and mean.

You drift away into your melancholy solitude leaving me in the shadow. Perhaps you still feel a certain betrayal to her in being with me and feeling happy. You wonder if she’s happy or if she’s alright. You want a good person for her; you want her to be taken care, like she should. You need to let it go, let it go, darling, before it destroys the good we have.

Petal P. Rose

Loss

One Art - Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem fiolled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster;
plances, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look (Write it!) like disaster.

Time goes by...not quite that slowly...tick..tock..schtick...schmock

"I've always been a drifter. I like to see the world. I have no ties, no commitments, no permanent base. I go wherever the wind blows me."

I can't even begin to imagine what that must feel like. My life is a layer-upon-layer of commitment, confinement, duty. I live by timetables, schedules, appointments, mortgage payments.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Those are words lifted from a short story by Carole Matthews. I pondered on it. The book was meant to be a light-hearted read...yet it struck a chord within me.


I wonder what we would do without the timetables, schedules, appointments. Alot of things will fall apart - train/plane/buses are already not on time (blame it on the weather, the accidents, the crowd, etc) - everything will be totally out of whack. Chain reaction....so you don't get to work on time, you won't be prepared for that 9a.m. meeting, won't be in time to answer the email queries, will work through your lunch hour and wonder why it is your stomach's grumbling, missing deadlines, missing the bus/train because you stayed late at work, missing the kids as they were tucked into bed....missing missing missing all the time....it's the clock that ticks keeping you and everyone in line...but...the clock also dictates that you should reflect on life the past year and declare a new way of doing things (New Year's Day and resolutions), it tells you that you should appreciate the person you care about and to let them know (birthdays), to send your special ones gifts of chocolates, flowers, diamonds and take them out for an expensive dinner and so on so forth - you know the deal by now.


Why do you need those special days to tell you how to behave? That's like having the law to stop you from looting and shooting. I appreciate that you need timetables, schedules, blackberries, Palms to keep time for you. But outside of work, why do you need it? Do you need something to tell you that you should spend time with your loved ones? To let them know that you appreciate them only on special occasions/days? Buy chocolates, flowers and all that commercial shite to proclaim your love? That is utter rubbish. How about letting them know each and everyday that they are special and that they matter? Imagine, waiting a full year to say "I love you and you mean alot to me" only to have the person die on you before the year is up. As for reflection - you can always do it anytime, anywhere and decide to be better at any point in time - you don't need a New Year's Day for it. Fuck that.


The moments that count are those impromptu ones. Those are the more precious moments - when you least expect it. I reckon you always get a better camera shot when people are caught unawares and I think it's sometimes like that in life. *Beep beep beep* Sorry, folks, according to my iPhone calendar, times' up with blogging – gotta go.


Love,

Petal P. Rose

A gentle breeze, she strokes my fever hot cheeks and forehead to soothe.

I was in a conversation with Himself, sharing abit of how it was like growing up. There is very little memory of being happy. I can only just about recall the bad ones, being terrified and being as quiet as a mouse. One of the "happy" times was when we had house parties. I recall my father with long hair and my mother with long, flowy dresses to match her tresses. Preparations would start early with mom getting all the glasses, crockery, cutlery, what-have-yous ready. I can't remember what I would do. I just remember being amongst adult and being cute. *shrug* what's a kid to do?

Himself asked to bring photos recording the moments and I told mom. She took out my album. We each have our own albums. Mine was the biggest, with picture of a girl, carrying ducks in a wheelbarrow on the cover. There were so many photos smiling photos that I can't remember. Mom started going through one by one, telling me the stories behind each photo - who bought or made my clothes, whose place it was, what had happened, etc. She could remember so much. Her stories were peppered with "do you remember...." "you don't remember,.....".

Pictures of their friends - I wonder what's happened with them all. I assume they all got married and have their own kids, etc - I never did see them again - or if I did, it seems to be lost in my labyrinth of memories. Mom even remembers my friends. The only person I've kept up with is my best friend - the rest, I'm not interested in. I do think of how so and so is doing but there's really nothing to anchor me to the past of that memory. They left me with a bitter taste in my mouth and I honestly wish that they get a taste of their own medicine that I was forced to swallow.

Mom says that she keeps the photographs so that she can one day show our kids how we were like growing up. "I keep them so you can show your kids", says she. But who will tell the stories behind them? I can't remember and most of what is recorded in my memory is the harshness of those times. Do I really want to tell my kids my memories? Or should I record her words and play it back? The ghost of happier times.

Today is her birthday. Today she is a year older. There will come a point when she will stop being a year older as her breath becomes still and the deep freeze will never have a chance to thaw.

Happy birthday, Mom.

Petal P. Rose

Never

Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, that turned

my life into one long night seven times sealed.

Never shall I forget that smoke.

Never shall I forget the small faces of the children whose

bodies I saw transformed into smoke under a silent sky.

Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith for-

ever.

Never shall I forget the nocturnal silence that deprived me

for all eternity of the desire to live.

Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God

and my soul and turned my dreams to ashes.

Never shall I forget those things, even where I condemned to

live as long as God Himself.

Never.

- extracted from "Night" by Elie Wiesel

In memory.

Petal P. Rose

Secret

I have a secret
It's kept in my pocket
nestled comfortably,
amongst the fluffy lint,
next to the fallen star.

I put my hand in
my pocket and rummaged
my fingers were pricked
but the secret,
it's determined not to be found

It will live,
next to the fallen star,
forgotten for awhile, till...
I next remember the secret,
in my pocket,
that's yet to be found.

Petal P. Rose

Uncertainty

Will you remember the words exchanged, ten years from now? Keep it forever in your memory, never to lapse, like it was just yesterday. I can’t guarantee that I can, honestly. At times I forget what I had for lunch last Tuesday. Ten years – is it too long? When things go rough, will you remind me of our good times? We never know what the future will bring. Or will I only know the worst of times – sitting on the ledge of the cracks of happiness.

Can I trust you not to twist the knife when it’s already sticking out at the ribs? I trust you won’t do that – stick your foot and leave me clutching my empty stomach. The feelings I have are so intense, it hurts, just right there, when I take a breath or to sigh. I am punched out of air, withholding my all, tentative and waiting for the next strike.

Am I meant to be here? Are we meant to be? Am I entitled to it or will I get cheated of even this tentative happiness? I ponder on it a lot, wearing the cold hard cement of my mind with the constant scurrying of extreme thoughts. At times it feels as though I will succumb to it, I want so much to throw out the white flag and surrender…ah, sweet surrender.

I don’t have anything but myself to serve you on a humble thali platter. Will you take me in? I promise in turn to love and cherish you. That’s all I’ve got – you can have it all.

Petal P. Rose

Another year, another year.

Sunrise, sunset

a beginning and the end

it feels like I'm a dog chasing my own tail

wearing down the cobbled stones

of the many before me

I turned 31 a week ago. It has indeed been another year of change for me - very significant changes. Significant but the earth didn't feel like it moved at all. It was a gradual change - God was sneaking up on me. As some of you know, I switched jobs - back to the corporate world. I love my job. I started out as a Personal Assistant, looking after the incorporation of the Australian offices but 2.5 months into my job, there were some corporate changes and I am now a regional coordinator, with 1 staff unofficially reporting in to me. I got sent to Perth for a week to hand over stuff and leading up to that, so many things happened that told me things were meant to be this way.

I am also together with the love of my life. We were friends for about 3/4 years and the puzzle finally showed itself and it is all now crystal clear. I knew I liked him but didn't think it was possible. It only really dawned on me just a few months back - I could have hit myself on the head because I didn't see it coming at all. He is the most wonderful of all men I've ever met. He truly is a gem and I'm definitely hanging on to him.

I also just spent the last 2 weeks with him in Indonesia. It was quite an experience doing Indonesia with him. He was sick most of the trip but he did his best, I know. I've always known him by instinct and the trip was just a confirmation of my instinct - I was also getting to know him more in-depth.

My best friend got married too! Knowing them, there'll be a new addition to the family not too far in the future and I'm an "aunty" or perhaps "Godma"! *shock, shock, shudder, shudder* It was a simple affair, only attended by both families and me. I signed their marriage paper as one of the witnesses and that REALLLLLY made me feel oh-so-grown-up! I never envisioned that she'll be married before me, given our personalities but there you go, a twist in every story.

What's next for me is that I'll be enrolling in a course next year and I also plan to squeeze in more travelling in between the classes and work. I want to go back to my gamelan and writing but that will be the extra curricular, not focus. I'm taking abit of down time now to prepare for what I have to tackle next. Although I do enjoy the arts, it's also very draining for me when there's only 24 hours in a day and 7 days in a week! I am also starting to save up - the mister and I plan to have a family in 5/6 years if things go alright between us. If it goes pear-shaped, I'll still have my savings. I know I haven't written on this blog for awhile now - no excuses, just being plain lazy but I do promise to write again. I also will be working on a personal project - more writing - and will share as I go along....but not too much because it's very close to the heart.

I'm looking for a spash of rainbow

through the keyhole of your soul

Love,

Petal P. Rose

p/s: this formatting thing with Blogspot sucks!