Life is Beautiful

Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, not small, but valuable. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.

Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail.

I watched Life is Beautiful last night, a wonderful Italian movie. It's sad, but you couldn't really cry because the movie didn't allow you to for the beautiful and funny insights it teaches you, which at some point frustrated me because I end up with all these feelings bottled up inside me.

Perhaps that's what great art does to you, it flips you up and down until you're too exhausted you forget what you're supposed to feel in the first place.

For the Sake of Some Random Thoughts

I'm trying to remember when was the last romantic moments I experienced, I couldn't. Cheesy moments, perhaps. But not romantic. Because I think romanticism is something larger than life. You can only create it if you yourself is larger than life.

...

I was at the lookout in the beach the day before yesterday. It was late evening, and it was raining rather slightly. The wind blew strongly, and the waves crashed the rocks down the cliff like it's in the middle of a storm. From afar, the ocean looked so vast, so dark, so fierce, and somehow, the sight of it made my throat dry.

I told him about the girl who fell off the cliff, "Is this for her?" he pointed to the little white teddy bear at the fence. My eyes followed his stare, I felt like I was caught off guard, I felt like I was caught talking about something I don't have the right to. "Yes, I think so, it's her." I stammered.

...

I want to tell her, "Do you know what's the problem with us these days? We grow old too soon. It's as if we forget what it means to be young, to be fiery, to be so full of dreams and impossible ideas." But I didn't. I'm not sure she would like to hear it. So we talked about something else, we talked about what everyone these days talk about, we talked about our life, our jobs, and our families. We talk about something which means nothing.

Blessing in Disguise

He had lost his faith early. It did not make sense, and it gave him no comfort. If one was looking for comfort in this life, then it would have been better, he thought, to seek comfort in the prospect that something might be done about the suffering. Yet here he was in this church, out of sheer loneliness, pretending to believe.

The Unfortunate Fate of Kitty Da Silva by Alexander McCall Smith

There's always the jolt of satisfaction every time you read a book and you found it's talking about something exactly what you had in mind ages ago. It's like discovering the a-ha moment and saying to yourself and the world, "There you go, I knew I wasn't crazy!".

The Magician's Nephew

I enjoy reading children and young adult books because it makes me feel optimistic about life. Being in the world where you can be mad at anyone and love them again when you feel like to, the world where everything is so transparent and clear cut, where love is love, good is good, and evil is evil.

The Magician's Nephew first caught my attention at my dad's friend's house. I only managed to briefly peruse the hard-bound complete series of the Chronicles of Narnia with its pretty light coloured illustrations, so when I got home later I immediately rushed to the library (oh God bless Australian libraries!) to get hold of the book.

The story proved to be a short and enjoyable read, the plot itself spans around the 24 hours London time where Diggory and Polly met, became friends and embarked on their journey together to witness the birth of Narnia. In short, the Magician's Nephew tells us the story before the times of the four Pevensies' brothers and sisters, and it logically explains how the wardrobe ends up giving access to Narnia from our world.

Oh, my. I think I pretty much watered down the story with my review. You'd better read it yourself to feel the magic. You will, I know. Because I did.

Gloomy

Sydney is besieged by heavy cloud in the past week, as if mourning for the Victorian bushfire victims. The temperature dropped to 20 degree Celcius, I'm wearing jumper and socks all the time inside the house now. It feels like winter's coming early.

Such Peaceful Souls

Today


"Hi Ati, good morning." He walked in silently to the kitchen. I turned around - water streaming from the tap, and I gave him a wide smile. Good morning!, my voice sounded hoarse, it sounded so distant.

He reached for the refrigerator door, "How are you?", and suddenly he lifted his eyes and smiled a little, as if careful not to give away what he was thinking. He held his gaze, waiting for my answer.

Good! I'm good!, I blurted out, a tad too enthusiastically.

He didn't take away his stare. Was it a knowing look he gave me? Slowly he bent down and reached into the refrigerator - continuing his morning routine.

You're a good person. I let out a sigh. All of you.

Yesterday

We bade her farewell at the airport. She was anxious, I was anxious for her.

She's on her own little pilgrimage, as she puts it. When we walked out with her from the house in the afternoon, her Iranian friend came in to say goodbye. As we stepped out, he took out a glass of water and pour it onto the ground. For safe return, in sha Allah.

We had sat together beforehand, the three of us. We talked about the brief time we had shared together. A minute portion of each our life shared together in an experience which feels like forever, a lifetime really.

Take care of each other, was her words to us in her letter. I smiled at her before she finally stepped into the departure halls, we'll all be at home when you get back. Come back safely.

Funny how God send us a gift of life, love, and friendship in unlikely places, right?

The Day Before

"Alright, it's the last one", he turned around to us enthusiastically. He swapped the card, his hands in position.
The first block came, and the second, the third. He made it to the minor prize, all of us looked with giddy excitement. One block, another, and another. The last box to the major prize, I crossed my finger.

Aargh! All of us broke into a fit of hysteric laughter.

On our way home on the bus, he (the other he) blew his fingers several time. What for, asked she. For the money I had lost, we laughed again.

As we sat down later in the backyard, the midnight moon passed over us. Cigarettes at their hands, a glass of milk in mine - I listened and laughed with them as they recount their stories. This little family of ours, I smiled to myself quietly in the dark.

Cookies Ahoy, Captain Cook!

I was reading Alexander McCall Smith's Love Over Scotland when I came across Domenica talking about Somerset Maugham's The Painted Veil, which I recently finished prior to reading the book. This morning, in my determination to catch Frost/Nixon at Paddington by 4 p.m. today I read about Matthew's discussion with his dad about the temperament of the Richard Nixon over breakfast.

Sometimes it amuses me to think these books have lives of their own and I imagine their witty remarks about me reading them and making connections between one and the other.

II

We had visitors at home last night, while my housemate and I were watching the Australian Open final match of men's single between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal (a historic and emotional performance which somehow I found to be quite personal - Federer is one of my best youth and social heroes, while Nadal struck a chord in me as another left-handed player who carved history in his own ways).

Two possums perched on the barbeque griller at the backyard, I had welcomed them with delight. We fed both possums multi-grain bread and I had the liberty to give a couple of pats to the older possum (fondly referred to as Cookie) while the younger one (Cookie junior) made his safe distance from us without leaving the sight of the bread in our hands.

III

Life is beautiful. Differences are beautiful.