The Travel-Bug Pt. 2

photo courtesy of Crystal Cha

I always wanted to travel, to leave the little bubble I call home for awhile and go somewhere unknown, somewhere new, somewhere with strange cultures, somewhere maybe even dangerous.

Somewhere I don't speak the language, somewhere off the beaten track, somewhere, unseen and unheard around the next corner. Just somewhere.

That's it. That's all there is. Somewhere.

And in the famous last words of Francois Rabelais:

I go to seek a great perhaps.

That's it. A perhaps. It may not be what I want, it may be the exact opposite. But perhaps...perhaps it will be. Be what? Be everything.

I do know this though. I am not seeking to find something, not to reach the end of the road, not to finally grasp the prize. The prize IS the very act of seeking.

And after the seeking? I don't know. But I do know this. The best part of leaving, the best part of going away in search of perhaps-es, will always be coming home.
Coming home to you.

The Travel-Bug Pt. 1

The past three weeks have been a great time. If you don't know, I am currently (only for another 4 days) in England, sleeping over at my girlfriend's place in Middlesbrough. From the headquarters here, we have launched excursions into nearby York and Whitby, as well as not-so-nearby Edinburgh, London and Oxford.

I love it. It has been quite crazy, all the running around chasing trains and time, the brisk walking to our next planned location. The culture here has been quite different, and I have been relearning my English (maybe an overstatement, but the first few days I was here I understood not a word any of the English people were saying).

So here's where I've been.

photo courtesy of Crystal Cha

York.

Taken early in the morning (before 10AM) so the streets are quiet. The building in the distance is the York Cathedral. It is a quaint little town, filled with old-book stores and little cafes/eateries. I had one of the best days here, filled with food; of special note is the Hogroast sandwich.

photo courtesy of Crystal Cha

Whitby, a fishing community known for its Fish 'n Chips and picturesque town. It was the place which inspired Bram Stoker's Dracula, and having been there I can see why. This picture was taken from the steps beside the ruins of St. Hilda's Abbey.

photo courtesy of Crystal Cha

Edinburgh, my favourite city in the world at the moment. The place was absolutely gorgeous. The city is an eclectic and heady mix of old-styled architecture, exhibited by the various statues and monuments, to a new and contemporary style. The countryside was breathtaking, all rolling hills dusted with white and the Haggis...well, words fail, but Edward Burns wrote a poem about it. It is THAT good.

photo courtesy of Crystal Cha

London, this was taken from Regents Park. If you've never been there, I suggest you go. London is the melting pot of European cultures; all of it in one place. One of the attractions of the city will definitely be the parks, and when I say parks, I actually mean small countries. The parks are humongous, there seems to be no end...Anyways, you can get any kind of food here, in London, not in the parks, if you know where to look and the public transport system is simply fantastic. I counted down to the new year at Waterloo Bridge, overlooking the Eye of London and it was amazing. I'll maybe upload the video sometime.

The final place we visited was Oxford, and it is definitely my next favourite place, behind Edinburgh. I have no photos to show yet, but maybe I will in a future post.

500 miles by The Proclaimers

Slipping and Sliding

I take three back for one forward
Sliding, inexorably
I take and I take, such a coward
Slipping, uncontrolably
I live in time now backward
Sliding inevitably
I try it on my own, so wayward
Slipping, definitely
I try and I fail, is it onward?
Sliding, shakily
I pray for grace, trying, heading forward
Slipping and Sliding, Lord, catch me...

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Disappearing Act

This writer is currently on a holiday.
Normal publishing will continue after (or likely sporadically here and there when the writing bug bites).

Have a wonderful Christmas and a great New Year!

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Ineffable? Or Inexcusable?

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels but do not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 

If I give all I possess to the poor, and give my body over to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

And here I thought I was good.

I had a conversation with someone extremely dear to me and she asked me what I thought love was.

I said that it was undefinable, ineffable, unfathomable.

But I was/am wrong.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

And who, having love defined as such, can say they have truly been loved?

Surely not by a human.

*1 Corinthians 13:1 - 7

You Know That Feeling?

You know that feeling?

It makes everything matter that little bit more.

It feels like half your heart is missing.

It makes possible what you once thought was not.

It makes you want to be that person, the one reflected in her eyes.

It makes time go three times faster (or three times slower).

It causes tongues to twist, hearts to beat erratically, butterflies in weird places, breaths to disappear.

You know the feeling?

It's called love.

The Little Things

"You know," he said with unusual somberness, "I asked my father once why kenders were so little, why we weren't big like humans and elves. I really wanted to be big," he said softly, and for a moment he was quiet.

"What did your father say?" asked Fizban gently.

"He said kenders were small because we were meant to do small things. 'If you looked at all the big things in the world closely,' he said, 'you'll see that they're really made up of small things all joined together.' That big dragon down there comes to nothing but tiny drops of blood, maybe. It's the small things that make the difference."

"Very wise, your father."

"Yes," Tas brushed his hands across his eyes. "I haven't seen him in a long time." The kender's pointed chin jutted forward, his lips tightened. His father, if he had seen him, would not have known this small, resolute person for his son.

"We'll leave the big things to the others," Tas announced finally. "They've got Tanis and Sturm and Goldmoon. They'll manage. We'll do the small thing, even if it doesn't seem very important. We're going to rescue Sestun."

Dragonlance: Dragons of Autumn Twilight

So often, in our quest to do the big things, to change the world, we forget that it's the small things that make the difference.

Searchers

To the doubters, don't stop asking why.

To the wanderers, don't stop looking over the horizon.

To the dreamers, don't stop believing in the impossible.

To the lovers, find that one person, and hold on to her forever.

To the broken, know that you are not alone out there.

To the faithless, please, just look at the beauty around you.

To the lost, don't stop searching for the road home.

To the searchers, keep reaching for that little bit more.


"...For wanderers and dreamers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves."
There are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves by James Kavanaugh 
And to my one, my only, don't stop believing that in you lies inherent greatness that one day will change the world.

It'll-Be-Fine

Before I begin, let me just say that I got a score of 17 on the Narcissistic Personality Index (a series of 40 questions that roughly estimates a person's narcissism level). Celebrities have an average of 18, while a score of 21 and above indicates a problem and I recommend immediate psychiatric treatment.

from The elusive "Sander vitreus vitreus"

I have this perception/misconception that I have always been - and will always be - bigger than my problems. It doesn't matter what the problem is - work, assignments, strange encounters of the not-very-kind. So far, I still keep to my if-the-world-still-spins-after-it'll-be-fine philosophy.

It is not that I don't care about the results; every piece of work I hand up/create I do it to the best of my capabilities. It is not that I don't care about the consequences, I do.

It's just that from where I stand, all of it - the work, the assignments, the probably-will-take-a-miracle-to-solve-its will eventually work themselves out if I (and sometimes, we) do our part, stressing about it could very possibly ruin a good piece of work.

So put your leg up. Then put your laptop on top of them. Lean back and take a sip of coffee. Take a couple of breathes.

And start working.

Sic Semper Tyrannis by Mae

Who Are You?

I saw this scene in a movie (actually, I am pretty sure it is a scene repeated in a few movies) once.

'Who are you?' Guy A (usually old and wise) asks Guy B (usually young and ignorant).
'My name is Guy B, I-'
'No, I didn't ask your name, I asked 'Who are you?',' Guy A cuts him off mid-sentence.
'Well, I work as an engineer, but I like-'
'No, I didn't ask what you do, I asked 'Who are you?',' Guy A again cuts him off mid-sentence.
'Yes, I was just saying - but I love to travel, I regret-'
'No! I didn't ask what you love to do! I asked 'Who Are You?'!' Guy A yells in exasperation.


Guy B, taken aback, yells in return, 'Will you please let me finish? How can I answer when you keep cutting me off?'


Hearing no reply, Guy B sniffs and answers the original question. 'So, I am-' and he stops, bewildered, and was silent for a few seconds.


Then, 'I have no idea who I am.'


Guy A smiles. 'And that, is the right answer.'

My point is this: what defines you as a person? Or maybe, what do you let define you? What makes you distinctly you? There is no wrong answer (but having no wrong, can it have a right one?). Your answer is your own, and if you think about it, it may surprise you.

So.... Who Are You?
...