music. love. life.

It's weird how powerful music is. You hear a song, a song with meaning and sentiment and you instantly get transported back to a moment and place in time where you can smell the music and taste the colors and and feel time pass over you like the flutter of a moth's wing. Evasive, soft, and gone too soon.

Hearing mmmbop, I'm transported to the summer of '97 when I was 12 years old and my whole life lay ahead of me. Endless possibilities, endearing innocence tainted ever so slightly by a non-reciprocated crush on the boy next door, a zest for life matched by no other driver. I could take on the world and surely come out on top. Life was good, the music was great and the world was my sandbox. Hearing mmmbop now, I feel a sense of loss and nostalgia, for that prodigal being, that passion for perfection and excellence. Where do we go wrong? Or is it just how it is to be..

Switch to DJ Sammy's version of heaven and traces of my first year in university waft past me and try as I might I cannot grasp it fully. A bittersweet time, being on the brink of adulthood but still not old enough for proper responsibilities or even making it to class on time. It was still our little heaven though and that song will forever remind me of all the good times 'cos let's face it, that's all that matters, the good times. The bad stuff and the poison, you need to let go of that, so that there's plent of room for smiles and love and life. And then you can grow, as a being and as a race. We're all in this together like it or not and as science explains, every body in the universe influences ever other body in the universe. And so what you carry in your hearts and mind and souls should be light and radiance and goodwill.

Whatever the music may be, there is nothing as inexplicable as that moment of clarity that you sometimes get when you hear a piece of music that touches you in the deepest recess of your soul. Like the haunting melody of Pachelbel's Canon in D or the heavy strains of the guitar in the opening bars of Live's Dolphin Cry or the sweet earnestness in Don McClean's voice as he sings about the starry starry night. Each a masterpiece in their own right, each serving a purpose and fulfilling it beyond a doubt. The music will play on long after we are gone and along with it our memories and strains of fading laughter. Let's hope we can appreciate the beauty of the music while we have it and learn to live and feel those moments in time that you know will leave a lasting impression on your very soul..

a love letter to love

there is a boy that makes it all worthwhile

a boy that can always make me smile

he loves me unconditionally

makes me see the world in different ways

and i promise to love him to the end of days

he inspires, makes me rage and drives me insane

he is love, he is light

and he is mine..

aja

a better man there never was

to hold our hand when we stumbled and fell

valor and honor were at his core

a gentle word for our troubled souls

to soothe and comfort us through the darkest despair

twinkle twinkle went the gleam in his eye

and the swell in his chest with the pride he felt

at the clan of grandkids that cherished him so

that would clamour for success and honor

that he willed us to achieve

a braver man there never was

a stalwart legend that inspired us all

to be good and do good and live in peace

was the simple motto he embodied

until he was no more

his stark absence leaves a void

so deep and sharp with aching heart

but with the absence a thought lives on

of a great man a mentor and a friend

and a smile so true as it reached the edge of his eyes

a better man there never was

a braver man ther never was

but a legacy shall indeed remain

to respect and love and cherish and honor

as we think of our granddad everyday

for all the ghosts that are never gonna...

this is not the most compelling of issues for my first blog ever, sans the intro-type thingy i did about 2 seconds ago, but it's kind of fresh on my mind and well i'm too tired to dig up other angst-filled , issue-ladden topics from my vast plethora of. so it will have to be: "can you miss something if you never knew what it was or felt like in the first place?”

so i was chatting to my 80-something year old grandmother, we'll call her "ana", she's cute, sharp as a tack, funny as shit and her english spans about 4 sentences and a handful or arb nouns like "security deposit", "transit", "go study you useless grandchild of mine" and "construction". she also has some choice expletives for my pater, seeing as he had whisked off my mother (the golden child of her era) in a whirlwind romance, took her back to the other end of the world and then abandoned her. so i allow her her misgivings and join in on the father-bashing fun. today's before-dinner chat was interrupted by the arrival and quick departure of a visiting tibetan monk, whom we lovingly refer to as lamala. seriously. "lama" means monk and "la" is a sign of respect in our language. see, you learnt something. now lamala is a refugee tibetan monk. 24 years of age, smart, equipped with all the latest electronic gadgets(ipod, 02 PDA et al) and his nepali sounds worse than mine, so it's always a pleasure to talk in nepali around him. so after a quick convo about the latest hip-hop songs i may or may not be able to supply him with(psssh! poor dude), he's off with a twirl of his saffron robes. "sigh", goes ana, i ignore her, i'm still in awe of lamala's new phone with 5 megapixel camera and karl zeiss optics, and no it's not that n-series yuppie grabber. "sigh" goes madam, and it's a, i really have something to say, sort of sigh. i bite, with a what's up gran. she promptly informs me that lamala lost his dad recently, i'm remorseful albeit in a detached manner, because i remember a convo previously with him wherein he told me that he never knew his parents. my gran fills in the blanks for me, the blanks being that he was separated from his parents at age 2 or 3 and that he hadn’t seen them in 19 years or so and had given up seeing them as he is a practicing buddhist monk, seeking refuge in india and due to the china-tibet crisis, well yeah, nearer to impossible were his chances.

my ana went on to say it must be really hard for him and how sad he must be and how he must be going through all the usual admin one goes through after losing a parent. now i'm not sure if i was just in an unusually usual weird mood or saying something just to fill in the spaces but i told her i didn't think it might be all that bad. she politely asked me to explain myself, i suspect also, in an attempt to find out my feelings about my dad and what's been going on in our family for the about the past 10 years or so. the thing is i'm not to verbal when it comes to the whole verbal side of being verbal. hey, i enjoy a good dad-bashing rant or even a discussion on defunct families and how mine could top the lot. but when it comes to the feelings, emotions and my views and takes on it, i prefer to keep mum(lol) and remain detached. people have different ways of dealing with crap, i have mine and they seem to have worked up until now, but a recent chain events have led me to believe that i may have to review my methods on dealing and maybe revise them. but, i digress. so i go on to tell ana that if a person doesn't know another person, and then loses that unknown person, he may feel sadness but not an infinite amount as compared to had the person known the dead person more deeply. she retorted with a very compelling loss is loss and sadness is sadness theory, which i agree to on a certain level. but look at it this way kiddies, if you never ate delicious chicken or tofu(for the vegans) in your entire life and you woke up tomorrow and paris hilton had bought every piece of chicken(or tofu) for herself and there was none left for anyone else, besides finding it amusing what stupid things rich people get up to, would you feel like majorly bummed out that you are not going to get to eat anymore of it? i couldn't explain who paris hilton was to my gran let alone tofu, so i used an example closer to home. she'd recently met my nephew(i love him) and her one and only great-grand-son aged 3 and a bit. let's call him "the omen". i asked her, had she never met him and had heard something(touch wood it never does) had happened to him, how would she feel. well obviously she'd feel sad and broken, but i wasn't done yet, my arguing spirit had kicked in full spirit. i agree that she'd feel horrible and a bad sense of loss, but compare losing someone you'd never met, no matter how closely related, to someone you'd met even just once. that one meeting makes all the difference between a sad sense of loss and infinite loss. i'm not trying to be stubborn for nothing or emotionless, i just think that loss is loss, is not a just argument. there are definitely different degrees to pain, suffering, loss, misery and thus by association emotion. or is that by ascent. anyway, my point was that, even though lamala had lost his dad(not to mention all the trauma of being uprooted from his homeland and seeking refuge in this political hotbed) and it must be painful, he's better off in that he never even knew his dad in the first place. so his loss is just by association of thought that this was his father and he now no longer exists. how, pray tell, will that affect him in his daily routine or normal life, except for a few pangs that he never knew the man who sired him.

our discussion was cut short as dinner was served, but it kept me thinking for a good few hours. if all theses emotions have so many levels and not everything is black and white, how do you react to the loss of someone you've known your whole life, when you think you feel absolutely nothing for said person? neither love nor hate. just indifference. are we compelled to feel something because the person may have been a prominent fixture in the early years but became "just there" of late. or is that displaying monsterlike qualities. am i too morbid?

what good is a life with noone to share

to blog or not to blog. that's been a dilemma of sorts for me because i love to write, but in my head. and anything that even remotely makes its way to paper either gets destroyed or gets destroyed, so yeah, go figure. of late, i realised if i don't get stuff "out there" my head's going to implode while i spontaneously combust into a pile of useless green ash. where better than the total obscurity and anonymity that the internet offers, where total strangers can judge, make fun of and maybe sometimes even give advice or heed some. so this is going to be my purging pool, where i am going to purge. the purgings are all original, mine and subject to copyright. any purge bearing resemblance to any other purge is purely coincidental and unintentional and even if you wanted to sue me you can't so go purge in your own pool. this one is about to get full.

so a few facts about me dear boys, girls and hybrids. robots are always welcome. i don't like big letters. or even numbers. music heals all and i love shoes. yes, i am a girl. the earth belongs to the 60's and hope floats eternal....