in memory of ye ol' home

The smell of emptiness compacted the whole house, making me move slothfully in its thickness. Huey chi and I decided to give our old house a clean before passing our keys back to our ex-landlord. They were really nice ppl, that’s y we didn’t wanna leave them with a house with dirt and masses of dead skin cells at the corners.

The house served us good, I must say.

Awesome oven, huge windows, and enormous backyard for you to push your guests to if they start making it hard to breathe in-doors.

My room that's all the way at the back
(going to the toilet seems a long way from my room)

the heater that always gave us problems,

deep friendships formed, secrets shared, bored moments, innovative things were invented, seriously relaxing days, girly nites, weird people invading my house, good food distributed, amber and alfalfa (with her countless kittens) killed many many birds in the backyard,

... good times...

Thus says the post-graduate

Woohooo!!!!!! I made it to the end! I survived! I more than survived! I had so much fun throughout this three years of communication studies and I’m now a post-graduate (not official yet, but I’ll still scream for it anyway)!!! ... which means now I’m a jobless individual still living off her parent’s sweat and blood?
Darn it...

Alright, on a bitter sweet tone, I reckon it has been an interesting journey through the degree. More good than bad, that’s why I don’t really have the “liberated” feeling now cuz I was liberated from the start anyhow.

Hmmmm, this makes me feel like a geek or it’s as if uni is paying me to say this. But honestly I’ve no regrets doing what I did in uni and a small part of me wish I cud do it again (but heck no, I’m getting older by the second). Now the scary part comes. The REAL DEAL. The actual chunk of meat. The unfeigned mania also known to me as career-reality.

It’s one of those transitional periods where I’d panic for awhile, then slowly and eventually fall to contentment knowing that I’ve a God bigger than every single worry I have and He’s planned the best stuff for me, just like how He’s been doing all along.

*Drum rolls*

I'm 450 words away from graduation!!!!!! (that's if I don't fail any submitted assignments)

Sarah said i should play the Chariots of Fire soundtrack when I submit this final one.

That's exactly what I will do...

*Drum continues to roll*

G.B. Lamperti (italian singing teacher):

“Your art is the fulfillment of your elemental desire to sing. Your growth is stimulated by what you hear and understand.
If you faithfully do your daily practice, without anxiety about the result, you will find yourself competent in the end. You must stop at no stage of progress, anchor to no habit, be satisfied with no result, exult in no success.
All the details of singing are finally marshaled under one commander, emotion, the original source of song.”

catharsick

Catharsis = the purging of the emotions or relieving of emotional tensions, esp. through certain kinds of art, as tragedy or music.

As how my lecturer put it, it’s like a calamity that causes one to be free from an emotional bondage.

Aiyah... say la ‘cry’.

Anyhoot, about a month ago, I fell sick. Terribly sick. The last time I fell so sick was when I was admitted to the hospital with high fever, gastric pains and a curled up body, almost like a whinging prawn. I was 8 then. I guess it’s a tradition for my body to have a major fall in every decade of my life.

This, I would say, was quite a cathartic experience for me. Being sick is one issue. Being sick away from mommy is as bad as rain when your car tyre has gone flat.

So how was this a cathartic encounter? I blubbered, whimpered, snivelled, and wept. Yes... I cried till I could feel the body aches and headaches swivel away in shame. I guess that’s the active feat of ‘purging of the emotions’.

I’m glad the turmoil is over. Never again will I sleep and be ‘one’ with the couch for 2 days straight! Well, at least not in this house for sure.

‘cuz I’m moving out this Saturday. Going to the west. Away from my fellow comrades who supported me physically, mentally and emotionally when I was sick without mommy around. Deep down inside of me, I’ll always be an east sider (I’ll say this again when I post something about moving).

This whole moving thing may be another cathartic season for me. Yet, the end result will be good. Always has been and always will be.

[ 2 Corinthians 4:17-18 ]