letters and related ramblings
I love letters. I love how they carry the weight (and the incredible comfort) of memories weeks, months, years, after they've been written, like a moment indelibly etched in time, with its sentiments, memories and associated 物の哀れ (mono no aware - the awareness of impermanence) - haha i had to google "a moment in time" to find an untranslatable foreign word for that. I've realised that the best time to read letters from friends and loved ones is when you're at you're most homesick and lonely - ahhh those words permeate your bones like pigment on parchment paper, incredibly surprising with their sincerity, yet also sweet and balmy, like the love of a night breeze through a window left ajar, gently undoing a strand of hair from behind your ear, sprinkling gentle caresses upon the crown of your head.
Warmer weather in London (no matter how pleasant viscerally) has been somewhat of an unwelcome jolt from the vacillating numbness of a work routine I've grown steadily accustomed to in the colder months. Comparatively, it used to be much easier bundling and tucking my feelings away and inundating it with work perfectionism but it's hard not to imagine home and all its routines, sounds and creature comforts when the temperature reads 20 degrees on a Sunday night that feels so oddly reminiscent of evenings back in Singapore. I rejoice for a moment, floundering around in search for the people back home I so much want to celebrate these moments with, only to realise they're a good 7 hours ahead, tucked in and fast asleep by the hands of time. Meh.
I keep telling myself I shouldn't complain, and ALSO wish I didn't feel so much. Seemingly, I've grown steadily aware of the incommensurability of my emotional spectrum with other people... or perhaps everyone simply feels things extremely differently as individuals, and we choose to categorise these things oversimplistically - "sad", "shy", "tired"," glad", maybe they all mean different things, or they come shaded in various nuances of feeling that words simply don't do justice to. Anyway, I'll never completely figure myself out. In any case, writing this has been highly relieving and I'm glad homesickness does give impetus to literary pursuit.... somewhat useful at times I must admit.
Date check: It's about 11 days to the end of exams, and almost exactly a month till I'm back to the +65 after finishing my third year. I wouldn't have imagined time passing this fast, or that I'd be calling myself a uni grad so soon - already? Some days I recall that one encounter with a girl who had just graduated and her parents when my parents and I were dining out one of the first few days upon arriving in London in my first year and thinking to myself, "one day I'll be her, but... that's ages away", and here we are now. How elusive you are, time. I am relieved and slightly gratified? at the realisation of having accomplished something a majority of (then) eighteen year old Singaporean girls wouldn't have done - travelling halfway around the world and setting up life in a foreign country. Probably biggest accomplishment to date, and despite the many "Esther are you crazy?!" moments, I don't think I would have chosen it any other way hahaha.
So here I am, leaving a little placemark in history for this moment in time, knowing that in a few years I'll look back again on this blog fondly chuckling at my lame sentimentality while being made keenly aware that the clocks/calendars have eluded me yet again... But here I am, Sunday, the eighth of May, 2244 hours, here I am.
Warmer weather in London (no matter how pleasant viscerally) has been somewhat of an unwelcome jolt from the vacillating numbness of a work routine I've grown steadily accustomed to in the colder months. Comparatively, it used to be much easier bundling and tucking my feelings away and inundating it with work perfectionism but it's hard not to imagine home and all its routines, sounds and creature comforts when the temperature reads 20 degrees on a Sunday night that feels so oddly reminiscent of evenings back in Singapore. I rejoice for a moment, floundering around in search for the people back home I so much want to celebrate these moments with, only to realise they're a good 7 hours ahead, tucked in and fast asleep by the hands of time. Meh.
I keep telling myself I shouldn't complain, and ALSO wish I didn't feel so much. Seemingly, I've grown steadily aware of the incommensurability of my emotional spectrum with other people... or perhaps everyone simply feels things extremely differently as individuals, and we choose to categorise these things oversimplistically - "sad", "shy", "tired"," glad", maybe they all mean different things, or they come shaded in various nuances of feeling that words simply don't do justice to. Anyway, I'll never completely figure myself out. In any case, writing this has been highly relieving and I'm glad homesickness does give impetus to literary pursuit.... somewhat useful at times I must admit.
Date check: It's about 11 days to the end of exams, and almost exactly a month till I'm back to the +65 after finishing my third year. I wouldn't have imagined time passing this fast, or that I'd be calling myself a uni grad so soon - already? Some days I recall that one encounter with a girl who had just graduated and her parents when my parents and I were dining out one of the first few days upon arriving in London in my first year and thinking to myself, "one day I'll be her, but... that's ages away", and here we are now. How elusive you are, time. I am relieved and slightly gratified? at the realisation of having accomplished something a majority of (then) eighteen year old Singaporean girls wouldn't have done - travelling halfway around the world and setting up life in a foreign country. Probably biggest accomplishment to date, and despite the many "Esther are you crazy?!" moments, I don't think I would have chosen it any other way hahaha.
So here I am, leaving a little placemark in history for this moment in time, knowing that in a few years I'll look back again on this blog fondly chuckling at my lame sentimentality while being made keenly aware that the clocks/calendars have eluded me yet again... But here I am, Sunday, the eighth of May, 2244 hours, here I am.