Monday, September 13, 2004
desired shelter
last days were the hardest, of course. especially because i knew that those prolly be the last time i feel the security for years thereafter. i tried to face upon it casually, and i half-succeeded. half, because that's exactly what i did when i was still surrounded by my significant others, saying all the cumbersome goodbyes. okay, so i won't be back for a couple of years, what's the big deal? nothing matters much, i thought.
then i had that painstakingly butt-numbing journey—7 hours flight to tokyo, 10 hours waiting in narita airport, 11 hours flight to vancouver, and another 3 hours before i arrived at victoria's airport—took a cab and entered my house, my room, my sanctuary. and my heart—swear to god, i could feel it—twitched a little bit. this is what i had been expecting. i dreamed of coming back to the place, as much as i hoped i won't leave my hometown again. yet, now that i stand on it, that dream shattered from my thought. just like that.
so what's new with victoria?
nothing.
same old, same old. i couldn't believe it. this place is exactly how it was when i first arrived a year ago. yes, some things change; like, now there's an alarm in my house (of which i have to enter a pin code after i open the front door), and i have a new roommate, and there's a new medical science building on my campus, new bus schedule, and so on and so forth. but those are practically insignificant, when every other thing stays the same. i come back to my old routine, and i almost forgot that i had a two-month vacation. now it's been two weeks, and i feel as if i've been here for ages. that come-back trip, did it really happen?
it's almost an irony. i thought i was doomed to live in this place. yet, there's no other place on earth where i can feel any safer than here. if i can describe it, i'd say it's a boring heaven (and strangely it doesn't sound like an oxymoron). this place is perfect, yet you can't stop worrying about things. you can get anything you want here, yet i realize i have a problem with insecurity. i can't be any luckier than now, living here. this place is your perfect lush prairie and your perfect confined prison.
but just like what bjork hums on the mouth's cradle, "i need a shelter to build an altar away from all osamas and bushes." and if i have found that shelter, well, who am i to complain?
last days were the hardest, of course. especially because i knew that those prolly be the last time i feel the security for years thereafter. i tried to face upon it casually, and i half-succeeded. half, because that's exactly what i did when i was still surrounded by my significant others, saying all the cumbersome goodbyes. okay, so i won't be back for a couple of years, what's the big deal? nothing matters much, i thought.
then i had that painstakingly butt-numbing journey—7 hours flight to tokyo, 10 hours waiting in narita airport, 11 hours flight to vancouver, and another 3 hours before i arrived at victoria's airport—took a cab and entered my house, my room, my sanctuary. and my heart—swear to god, i could feel it—twitched a little bit. this is what i had been expecting. i dreamed of coming back to the place, as much as i hoped i won't leave my hometown again. yet, now that i stand on it, that dream shattered from my thought. just like that.
so what's new with victoria?
nothing.
same old, same old. i couldn't believe it. this place is exactly how it was when i first arrived a year ago. yes, some things change; like, now there's an alarm in my house (of which i have to enter a pin code after i open the front door), and i have a new roommate, and there's a new medical science building on my campus, new bus schedule, and so on and so forth. but those are practically insignificant, when every other thing stays the same. i come back to my old routine, and i almost forgot that i had a two-month vacation. now it's been two weeks, and i feel as if i've been here for ages. that come-back trip, did it really happen?
it's almost an irony. i thought i was doomed to live in this place. yet, there's no other place on earth where i can feel any safer than here. if i can describe it, i'd say it's a boring heaven (and strangely it doesn't sound like an oxymoron). this place is perfect, yet you can't stop worrying about things. you can get anything you want here, yet i realize i have a problem with insecurity. i can't be any luckier than now, living here. this place is your perfect lush prairie and your perfect confined prison.
but just like what bjork hums on the mouth's cradle, "i need a shelter to build an altar away from all osamas and bushes." and if i have found that shelter, well, who am i to complain?
