Sinestra

Yasmine killed Benno.

Today, walking back home for lunch, i almost walked straight past Benno, thinking he was a flickering leaf in the middle of the road. Benno, in fact, turned out to be a little ball of feathers, & a feisty one too. He must have fallen out of his nest, & not only too young to fly back up, but unable to hold onto the branches i tried to put him on, falling to the ground & running out into the road again. He didn't seem to be a sparrow, and had wispy eyebrows, reminiscent of an owl or a merry sort of grandfather; he hopped into my left hand & i took him home.

I left him in a box with fallen flowers & twigs; a bowl of water & some bread soaking in it, & left him to close his eyes & sleep, with the faint hum of a heartbeat that young birds always have. I left him with my mother, told her to keep an eye on him & make sure that my little sister wouldn't frighten him when she got home from school.

After work & then an, um, interesting, but lovely cup of tea at Greg's, i went to visit my friend's brand new baby boy, who is so gorgeous & bright. I really do want the very best for them both.

At about 9 'o clock tonight, we came back to find Benno drowned.

My sister had put a wide bowl, filled to the brim with water, in his box despite the number of times my mother had told her not to because he would fall in & choke, & Benno was nothing but a feathered skeleton, limp & wet in my hands. I tried CPR- a little water did come out of his mouth & nostrils- & blew gently into his mouth, but i don't know if what i felt was that familiar tremor, or the pulse in my own fingers which held him.

Eventually i took him outside, wishing that his mother would find him & care for him... he grew heavier in my hands as i walked back outside, & i would love to believe that he was slowly awakening.

Oh no.

Orchid

Blueprint

Is it weird that i'm really excited for the future? I mean, not simply tomorrow when i get to see my friend's brand new baby boy, not really the weeks ahead in which i'll finally have time to see my friends properly, not even going to Ghana in a few weeks... i'm excited for my life.

I'm going to be fine.

It's not that i have every step mapped and i know exactly where i'm going- i don't- but, but i no longer want everything to be okay; i know i can make it okay, no- i can make it amazing. I just have a small feeling that my life is going to be what i have wished for... what i've wished for everytime i've cried until my head hurt, everytime i've had those blessed seconds to watch the grass & its family from barely a breath away, with every brush of smoke from a birthday candle each May.

I once read an autobiography called 'Ten thousand sorrows'. It was based on a Buddhist proverb the author's mother had told her, that "life is made up of ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows".

Today i've decided it's almost time to begin to fulfill the best part of the former.

Orchid

Prosopagnosia

I think I'm beginning to forget some of the faces i've grown up with through school, this town, this city. They could be any other stranger now, I can hardly believe I would have only a year ago, been able to tell who they were from the end of a street, just from the way they walked, or something. The weirdest thing is, I couldn't care less.

I'm refining in my mind those who matter to me... it's starting to look like a shortlist of people I've always mattered to, no matter what.

Greg, I miss you, let's catch up (:

Orchid

Quill

It's been far too long; i miss writing.

The past month has been composed of some weeks filled with ancient intellect, roaming museums and once-great buildings, some weeks with an unnamable pensiveness, and others with friends, sun and as much grass as London can muster.

Oh and not to mention finding a house for next year, not forgetting finding my inner 1950s WI-type domestic goddess along with it. My sewing list has doubled already.

I've been both craving and dreading coming home, and 3 days in, my reasons for both have been well and truly played out. I came back on Thursday night to surprise my Mother for her birthday, and have since unpacked, earned a full day's wage, been to a metal gig, basically started a band, essentially trashed the front of the Radcliffe Camera, and longed to leave at any given opportunity.

Song writing starts tomorrow, let's see how long this goes on for before i remember that i won't get anywhere with music again. It's a teetering scale swinging between aiming for a goal, wanting recognition, a name; and an irrational need to make music for my very sanity, and because if i'm not a musician in some form, i don't know what i am. It feels a little ironic though, singing, writing lovesongs when i know nothing about anything... but if music isn't about love, then what the hell is it about?

Orchid.

Cloud

Oh. So this is what abandonment feels like.

76 inches, 88 keys

I started writing this at least 14 times.

Today, this week, this mind, nothing is the right answer. But when i think about it, nothing is the right question either. I feel like this is me curling up into the smallest way of being human possible, to shield myself from all the philosophies and changing winds that i don't quite understand.

I cannot help but fall in love with everything that glitters, and everyone who is beautiful to me, and i cannot help but hurt when they're not around. I wish i hated, i wish i could only give halfheartedly, but i simply cannot. I cannot say goodbye without a tear, nor hello without wincing with the knowledge that the future will have to be farewell.

I don't know what i'm saying, there's too much, and there are no words. I want to fill the world with all the love i feel for it, want for it, wish upon every person walking it, i...

... don't know.

It's not enough, it's not enough, it's not enough.

Orchid.

Diary

You would think that after a season of heavy exams (hence the blog neglect), you would be able to close your eyes, count 1 to 10, and relax. On the other hand, you could have bitten off just a little more than you could chew, and find yourself replying to a seemingly endless list of important emails (Dear Whoever, I am so extremely sorry for the delay in response, I have been up to my ears in revision which should have really been done throughout the year, procrastination which I thought I had exorcised before I became a real student, and about 5 hours of sleep every night for the past month...); ignored text messages, and sorting out my life.

I have six ongoing projects at the moment, all of course with a lot of backlog. Yeesh.

On the other hand, I had a super birthday party over the weekend and got to see most of all of my favourites, but all of my most favourites (:

And now I think it's time for bed.

Orchid