Sometimes I wish I could read other people's mind, the way Edward the vampire could just listen to the thoughts of those surrounding him and know exactly how to react, well until he meets Bella and all the complications result precisely because suddenly he has to guess that bundle of desire and hate and love and insecurity and doubt that is hidden inside the maze of hair and facial expression and eyes and sighs.
Sometimes I wish I knew the reason behind our heart, the way it skips one beat when we see someone, the way it accelerates when we look into their eyes, the way that it cannot fake longing when everything that seemed to be cute and sweet becomes annoying. And we know that something has changed, but then, how are we supposed to know whether that change is permanent, that the excitement and laugh and silliness will never come back again the way a heart lies lifeless no matter how much pressure you exert on it again, and again, when love has died. Or, whether this is just a moment of doubt, the fear of loosing ourselves in something too peaceful to the point of monotone, but which, if let go will be so painful, it could revive again what we have forgotten in the routine of daily life.
And I remember a night so long ago, when we talked about pain, walking along the beach with the moisture of the air burning our eyes. The way we laughed soon after at our own silliness of thinking that pain will be inevitable if we plunge ourselves in this wave of emotions - the heart has forgotten its reason, abandoned its guard, setting itself up to be stabbed, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing we could do about it, except to pray.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
The beginning of the end...
Khắc khoải ngọn đèn đêm.
Ngón tay anh lùa qua tóc em ngỡ mình đang cách xa nhau vài trăm dặm.
Hai bàn chân đặt sát cạnh nhau sao không chạm
Nghe từng giọt phút giây đếm ngược về ngày tháng cuối cùng.
Mình nhìn vào mắt nhau.
Những tia lửa ngày hôm qua đang lập loè chờ tắt.
Những gì ta dành cho nhau trong ngày thường bỗng trở thành vụn vặt.
Và em lặng yên khi biết rằng trong anh tình yêu chỉ còn là mỏi mệt.
Cho dù tay trong tay,
mình đang bước đi về hai phía một con đường.
Những gì ta đã có với nhau, e chỉ vừa đủ để khóc thương...
Ngón tay anh lùa qua tóc em ngỡ mình đang cách xa nhau vài trăm dặm.
Hai bàn chân đặt sát cạnh nhau sao không chạm
Nghe từng giọt phút giây đếm ngược về ngày tháng cuối cùng.
Mình nhìn vào mắt nhau.
Những tia lửa ngày hôm qua đang lập loè chờ tắt.
Những gì ta dành cho nhau trong ngày thường bỗng trở thành vụn vặt.
Và em lặng yên khi biết rằng trong anh tình yêu chỉ còn là mỏi mệt.
Cho dù tay trong tay,
mình đang bước đi về hai phía một con đường.
Những gì ta đã có với nhau, e chỉ vừa đủ để khóc thương...
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Mundane
I find myself fighting with wireless internet everywhere I go. Maybe it has something to do with having a Mac, which is cute, but so very incompatible, or maybe I am just way to impatient, expecting everything to open the moment I happen to want it, and when it doesn't I get upset, ready to pull my hair and start a fight...if I only knew where that modem is - mày sẽ biết tay chị.
But then, what is wrong with having to wait a minute for a website to load, what is wrong with not reading my favorite tabloid for a day? Absolutely nothing at all...still, anger is building up inside forcing me to find another way for it to open, if only to roll my eyes at another random, unreliable piece of writing. I think I am spoilt by the speed of modern life, the feeling that I must be able to find out everything I want, whether it is the newest boyfriend of Paris Hilton, or the name of a random tendon in your foot. Google is my best friend, my go to person, my source of wisdom, and I am ready to take a fight with anyone/anything who prevents me from seeking his advice. Yes, even if it is something so intangible as wireless internet...
What happens to mystery, and the anxiety of the unknown, the excitement of digging through the library to find the right book, the right page, the right word? The joy of learning slipping through the fingertips onto the keyboard, when everything seems to be only a webpage away.
But then, what is wrong with having to wait a minute for a website to load, what is wrong with not reading my favorite tabloid for a day? Absolutely nothing at all...still, anger is building up inside forcing me to find another way for it to open, if only to roll my eyes at another random, unreliable piece of writing. I think I am spoilt by the speed of modern life, the feeling that I must be able to find out everything I want, whether it is the newest boyfriend of Paris Hilton, or the name of a random tendon in your foot. Google is my best friend, my go to person, my source of wisdom, and I am ready to take a fight with anyone/anything who prevents me from seeking his advice. Yes, even if it is something so intangible as wireless internet...
What happens to mystery, and the anxiety of the unknown, the excitement of digging through the library to find the right book, the right page, the right word? The joy of learning slipping through the fingertips onto the keyboard, when everything seems to be only a webpage away.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Vietnam
I found myself reading frantically online about Vietnam - food, weather, environment...you name it - ever since I found out I might have a chance to go back there sometimes this year, the first time in almost 10 years, the first time all by myself, as an adult, thinking about more than simply what I am going to eat for the time I am there.
I think I am afraid, though I am not very sure at this point how to name this feeling building up in my gut, choking at times, when I imagine myself stepping off the plane. The one thing that I can still feel on my skin from the last time I was there is the gust of hot air that instantly engulfs you and would not disappear, until you step on the plane again, to leave. Maybe that is the way Vietnam loves me, intensely and suffocating...
I think I am afraid, to meet many people again, to really see with my own eyes how very small my grandma has become, shrinking every day in her longing for my mom who is away and for my uncle who can never come back. After years of not having the time to do anything but work and raise the ones who remained, she finally found time to mourn the ones she has lost. I am one of those people.
I think I am afraid to meet my cousins again, the ones I played with in the field the last time I went back, 2 of them already married with kids, 2 other working everyday to save money...for a house, a wedding, a new motorbike. I have not talked to them in a long time, all news about them are channeled through my mom talking to their parents about us. And now that I am about to meet them again, i wondered how did we became so far apart, when all it takes these days is to log on to chat, or pick up the phone. Why did I never find the time to talk to my niece who is now almost 1, to ask about her mother's name.
On one of the searches online for Vietnam, I found a youtube video with Anthony Bourdain, talking about his love for Vietnam, a love with no reason, but which brought him to tears when he drove from the airport to the hotel in Hanoi. And somewhere in my memory is a an image of me crying when the plane left Hanoi that last September, for no reason, just tears falling as the city falls further back. And sometimes, at random moments I would think back to that moment and wondered why I cried. Was it for the time being there that has come to the end, or for the time being away that has started again and from which I could never wake up as if from a dream. Or is it because every time I leave I know that something is forever lost, childhood, friends, family, memories, and I am afraid that if I don't start mourning I will end up like my grandmother shutting up all her pain and loss in a world with no sounds.
I think I am afraid, though I am not very sure at this point how to name this feeling building up in my gut, choking at times, when I imagine myself stepping off the plane. The one thing that I can still feel on my skin from the last time I was there is the gust of hot air that instantly engulfs you and would not disappear, until you step on the plane again, to leave. Maybe that is the way Vietnam loves me, intensely and suffocating...
I think I am afraid, to meet many people again, to really see with my own eyes how very small my grandma has become, shrinking every day in her longing for my mom who is away and for my uncle who can never come back. After years of not having the time to do anything but work and raise the ones who remained, she finally found time to mourn the ones she has lost. I am one of those people.
I think I am afraid to meet my cousins again, the ones I played with in the field the last time I went back, 2 of them already married with kids, 2 other working everyday to save money...for a house, a wedding, a new motorbike. I have not talked to them in a long time, all news about them are channeled through my mom talking to their parents about us. And now that I am about to meet them again, i wondered how did we became so far apart, when all it takes these days is to log on to chat, or pick up the phone. Why did I never find the time to talk to my niece who is now almost 1, to ask about her mother's name.
On one of the searches online for Vietnam, I found a youtube video with Anthony Bourdain, talking about his love for Vietnam, a love with no reason, but which brought him to tears when he drove from the airport to the hotel in Hanoi. And somewhere in my memory is a an image of me crying when the plane left Hanoi that last September, for no reason, just tears falling as the city falls further back. And sometimes, at random moments I would think back to that moment and wondered why I cried. Was it for the time being there that has come to the end, or for the time being away that has started again and from which I could never wake up as if from a dream. Or is it because every time I leave I know that something is forever lost, childhood, friends, family, memories, and I am afraid that if I don't start mourning I will end up like my grandmother shutting up all her pain and loss in a world with no sounds.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
It's time for something new
I have left behind many songs, of the day, the week and the month, many sleepless nights and many non peaceful days, love and anger and longing, emotions that cannot be replicated, words which cannot be separated from the moments when they were written down, even if that moment is just a number in a virtual reality. I have taken some of them with me into a new notebook, fully aware that they have lost part of their meaning, but certain things are better to keep, knowing they are not the same, than to loose them once and forever. Snippets of life, like very old pictures, can never capture fully what had happened, but they can nevertheless provide a trigger to prevent forgetting. Imperfect memories is the best I can have, embarking on a new journey. I let them guide me; the first lines on the first page of a second diary.
For friends lost...and found again
Facebook...
and suddenly you appear, on a random day, at a random hour I can smell the sweetness of Polish autumn, yellow leaves tangling in our hair on the way back from that school on Bema Street, and I wonder...
Where have you been all these years, because it feels the same to see your picture, so different from what I remember. What were you thinking clicking on my name in blue letters, linking my blurry picture to the girl you once know.
I feel like a piece of the past has caught up with me, telling me to look back...the future so contingent on this moment of breathing in the feeling that friendship can last through time. And I miss I a town, a street, a time. And I miss a moment, a feeling, many faces, now suddenly so clear as if we just said goodbye yesterday.
On that one afternoon when we sat on the swinger in the back of the school, the future came into existence, because we know there is always a past to fall back on, no matter how far, no matter how blurry. And one day we will find it again, in our heart, on a random day, and I will smile, because I know, it feels good to have you back in my life.
and suddenly you appear, on a random day, at a random hour I can smell the sweetness of Polish autumn, yellow leaves tangling in our hair on the way back from that school on Bema Street, and I wonder...
Where have you been all these years, because it feels the same to see your picture, so different from what I remember. What were you thinking clicking on my name in blue letters, linking my blurry picture to the girl you once know.
I feel like a piece of the past has caught up with me, telling me to look back...the future so contingent on this moment of breathing in the feeling that friendship can last through time. And I miss I a town, a street, a time. And I miss a moment, a feeling, many faces, now suddenly so clear as if we just said goodbye yesterday.
On that one afternoon when we sat on the swinger in the back of the school, the future came into existence, because we know there is always a past to fall back on, no matter how far, no matter how blurry. And one day we will find it again, in our heart, on a random day, and I will smile, because I know, it feels good to have you back in my life.
Caption
Bạn hỏi
bao ngày cho một phút nắm tay
Đường xa lắc chẳng dẫn về ngày cũ
Ngày tiếng cười trong đọng trên cành tuyết rủ
Dấu chân mình líu ríu giữa chiều đông
Biết đếm làm sao bao ngày tháng trông mong
Bước chân quay đi quên ngoái đầu nhìn lại
Vẫn nhớ chẳng quên
nhưng sao cứ rời xa mãi
Nắng đổ bóng dài
gom góp những đợi chờ mang trả nợ ngày thơ
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