A final night of insomnia. Tomorrow I will be in the army.
Violinist. Photographer. Composer. Writer... soldier?
of all the things I thought I would do with my life, this makes the least sense. but it is strangely compelling.
The road bears an infinite number of destinations to those who take one step at a time.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Spouting rhetoric...
I don't actually have anything to say, really. Not right now anyway. It's late, and I'm not even going to try falling asleep. The last few nights I've been staring at the ceiling til 3 or 4 in the morning, or out the window, my mind drifting from one topic to another. Thinking about why things are how they are. Not necessarily complicated things... just small things. The french lady on the train with the little girl, standing next to the chinese lady with a girl about the same age. Two strangers who looked like they would have had absolutely nothing to talk about, had they not had something in common. Something so close to each of their hearts that they had something they could relate to, and understand about each other, which crosse the boundaries of culture, class, colour... they shared an understanding, of what it was to be a mother to little girls of about 9 years of age and as a result, here they were, chatting away like they'd know each other for years. They say opposites attract... I'd say that's true only of particularly curious individuals. Most people, however, are drawn to each other by what they have in common. But is it possible to have too much in common? I suppose it depends on what it is that's in common... but i diverge.
Tonight I don't feel like thinking. I feel the need to... spout. Rubbish most likely. It's almost as if the days when i think, produces all this energy that's stored somewhere, which needs to be released every now and then. I don't really know what it is, other than a feeling I get sometimes. A need to relate.
I used to draw. Draw without any idea of what it was the lines were forming, and so it was a process of discovery... at the end this picture would appear. From where? I don't know. My subconscious? Did it know what image it was going to produce all along? An interesting thought. I don't know enough about the subconscious to put forward a suggestion. But sometimes I wondered what compelled me to put pen to paper at all.
It's like now, where there is not one thing in particular that feel the need to say. Which is not to say that I won't end up saying something... but perhaps we'll both discover that together.
There is a nebulous fog in me that produces all sorts of ideas and perspectives which would be more useful to me and everyone else if I knew when to say the important bits. I think its this thing which compels me to write. and draw. and communicate.
Music probably has a par to play in this. Music was my way of expressing feeling and emotion long before I realised that such an outlet was necessary. Before I learned that the most specific means of communication - words - was perhaps the weakest. We are a species who has found words to describe things, people, places, actions, down to the most miniature of graduations, but in doing so, we cage ourselves. Our depictions limit our experiences to the words we use, and somehow when we relate these experiences, we know that the message received will be but a pale, faded image of what we initially tried to convey. Music, on the other hand, has the ability to move the emotions where words fail.
Or does it?
comment, if anyone's reading...
Tonight I don't feel like thinking. I feel the need to... spout. Rubbish most likely. It's almost as if the days when i think, produces all this energy that's stored somewhere, which needs to be released every now and then. I don't really know what it is, other than a feeling I get sometimes. A need to relate.
I used to draw. Draw without any idea of what it was the lines were forming, and so it was a process of discovery... at the end this picture would appear. From where? I don't know. My subconscious? Did it know what image it was going to produce all along? An interesting thought. I don't know enough about the subconscious to put forward a suggestion. But sometimes I wondered what compelled me to put pen to paper at all.
It's like now, where there is not one thing in particular that feel the need to say. Which is not to say that I won't end up saying something... but perhaps we'll both discover that together.
There is a nebulous fog in me that produces all sorts of ideas and perspectives which would be more useful to me and everyone else if I knew when to say the important bits. I think its this thing which compels me to write. and draw. and communicate.
Music probably has a par to play in this. Music was my way of expressing feeling and emotion long before I realised that such an outlet was necessary. Before I learned that the most specific means of communication - words - was perhaps the weakest. We are a species who has found words to describe things, people, places, actions, down to the most miniature of graduations, but in doing so, we cage ourselves. Our depictions limit our experiences to the words we use, and somehow when we relate these experiences, we know that the message received will be but a pale, faded image of what we initially tried to convey. Music, on the other hand, has the ability to move the emotions where words fail.
Or does it?
comment, if anyone's reading...
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
the return...
So chances are anyone who used to read this has given up checking for posts seeing as thought its been about what 4 months since the last one... but there's a time for learning, and experiencing, and a time for telling... the learning has been intense, and isn't looking like slowing down anytime soon, but I feel like I should write something. And put up some new pictures.
Really, there's been a lot to think about recently. My walk as a Christian for one. Adapting to new environments, which I'm used to , having moved around a lot, but maybe recently having moved to some really foreign environments... takes more adapting than usual. The funny thing is that moving to Singapore, the place where I was born, and have come back to so often, is the most difficult to adapt to. Difficult is definitely the wrong word, but... weird? haha. Not that that's much better.
The last 5 months on the MS Statendam, cruising through the US, Caribbean, Mexico, Nicaragua and Canada was an adventure. Life at sea is something else... on one hand it almost doesn't seem real, but then on the other hand, it is. Of course it's real. it's just different. completely. One's world is shrunk down to the size of the ship, so everything is magnified. Things which aren't a big deal on land become mountains, and you're forced to deal with it because there isn't anywhere to hide. It's like playing football (soccer) on a stadium pitch your whole life, then joining a futsal team. You can learn a lot in a short space of time if you want to.
Anyway, so now I'm in Singapore. I'll be joining the army here in about a week, which will be something totally different. I've been in the country for about 2 weeks, and am blown away by so many things. The music, the art scene, the food... it's a funny feeling. It's as if every time I've come here I've been living in a bubble, I just didn't realise it at the time. having lived in Australia my whole life, but having been brought up in a family with eastern traditions, I spent the first half of my life trying to adapt to that culture... and then to come back to what should be familiar, to discover that it's foreign even to you, is something to get your head around.
I'll be posting more soon. Then not for a couple of weeks, then I'll be back after BMT's over. Here are some pics : )
Really, there's been a lot to think about recently. My walk as a Christian for one. Adapting to new environments, which I'm used to , having moved around a lot, but maybe recently having moved to some really foreign environments... takes more adapting than usual. The funny thing is that moving to Singapore, the place where I was born, and have come back to so often, is the most difficult to adapt to. Difficult is definitely the wrong word, but... weird? haha. Not that that's much better.
The last 5 months on the MS Statendam, cruising through the US, Caribbean, Mexico, Nicaragua and Canada was an adventure. Life at sea is something else... on one hand it almost doesn't seem real, but then on the other hand, it is. Of course it's real. it's just different. completely. One's world is shrunk down to the size of the ship, so everything is magnified. Things which aren't a big deal on land become mountains, and you're forced to deal with it because there isn't anywhere to hide. It's like playing football (soccer) on a stadium pitch your whole life, then joining a futsal team. You can learn a lot in a short space of time if you want to.
Anyway, so now I'm in Singapore. I'll be joining the army here in about a week, which will be something totally different. I've been in the country for about 2 weeks, and am blown away by so many things. The music, the art scene, the food... it's a funny feeling. It's as if every time I've come here I've been living in a bubble, I just didn't realise it at the time. having lived in Australia my whole life, but having been brought up in a family with eastern traditions, I spent the first half of my life trying to adapt to that culture... and then to come back to what should be familiar, to discover that it's foreign even to you, is something to get your head around.
I'll be posting more soon. Then not for a couple of weeks, then I'll be back after BMT's over. Here are some pics : )
Subway art.
There's art like this scattered around the city. I'm in
the bottom left square.
A band playing in the Esplanade foyer
Michelle something or other...
The town
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