And so we watch and so we learn/With eyes wide for our dreams to yearn

Posts tagged ‘time’

What Do You Speak, & Why?

There’s a cliche going around on the Internet, things like ‘I Speak Fandom/Hipster/Gallifreyan/Elvish’ etc. Building off that, I think I’ll take the liberty to add some personal observations of my own:

As well as Fandom, I speak, to my level of learning: spanish, biology, chemistry, sociology, mythology, literature, art and some forms of technobabble…
I have also found that I can speak travel enthusiast, mature light conversationalist, teenager and 5 year old child. 😛
I can speak calculatingly, flirtatiously, quietly, brashly, argumentatively, wisely, considerately, engagingly, with a large variety of people from very many walks of life.

And yet, somehow I barely understand australian.
My hindi is better than my bogan.
And I do not speak gossip-girl
or shallow
or vindictive
or weak-willed.

I have a very hard time speaking in a way which suggests a lack of interest, curiosity or ambition in life, and in that find some of my fellow classmates very difficult to connect with beyond the lightest layers of conversation.

It’s odd, to see what a difference escaping your environment can make. When I look around my classroom, there are those who stand out and those who do not – but alternatively, there are those who speak with maturity and those who do not. Indeed, it must be recognised that this is an environment where being hilarious, liked or admired > being mature or responsible. But even so, looking around and seeing so many small people, some who barely know how to think, barely seem to go beyond the caricatures they have been placed in, making the general remarks expected, trying only as hard as expected, being interested where expected…

I am probably being judgemental in forming these opinions. I barely know the majority of the people who surround me each day at school, not to a depth where I can understand them. But, even so I cannot help wondering, how they will be one day; when life has taken them through more, after they had to harden, be stronger, think with reason and sensibility. I find myself looking forward to seeing them at a reunion in 5-10 years, hearing their stories as they matured and developed and stabilised and struggled and succeeded and settled. Because, despite being in the last years at those school, with those who are soon to be called Adults, I only look around and my mind screams ‘Babies! All of them!’

Am I a baby too? Possibly. Probably. They all will have experienced things I have not, just as I have learnt things they have never had the chance to. But that being said, I can count on one hand the students in my year who I know are like me; those who have learnt to live with the protective wing of their family far away, and they do have a distinct air to those otherwise.

Living alone changes you. Facing the unknown without support hardens you. Growing up will always challenge you, and just because you can legally vote now does not say, in a million years, that you are in any way prepared for what’s coming next. And do you know what? That’s okay! Because we’re all gonna keep adapting too.

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Of Truth, Reality and Life

What is truth? What is reality? People have asked these questions for hundreds of years, thousands of generations of searching and yet, we don’t know – do we? The minute we try to capture time ,it slips away from us, each second lost even as we process them. Think you can trust the solid earth beneath your feet? We’re clinging to the surface of a pea, hurtling through the universe, held together by laws of momentum and gravity, things too big and too small for us to properly even imagine. Everything we thought we know and believe is true, it’s a lie. Everything will burn one day, whither and die and be lost in the passing of time, everything is incredibly temporary.

I wonder often though; Is knowing all this good? How can we know the facts we’re discovering are real, not just the latest in flawed hypotheses. They believed that the earth was flat for thousands of years, and that seemed perfectly logical. And why shouldn’t it? We’re not gods, watching the universe it all it’s magnificence unfold. We are so small, in such a small world, so blind and dim and fumbling still, full of stupidity and mistakes, destruction in the name of creation.

And yet…we are more than just that. We dare to see beyond what our forefathers dared, we go even further with our minds and bodies and souls. We can never know all there is to know, and yet we keep trying. Isn’t that incredible? We never stop, never cease trying, because we want to know what’s out there, whats out there to know. We are barely learning to look after after ourselves and yet we’re making hops and skips and leaps and bounds all over in the most ridiculous places. We’re reaching for the stars, at the same time we’re fighting to keep half our world from being destroyed and/or dying. Life truly is full of contradictions, isnt it? What one person may know as the true word of god, the truth meaning behind a painting, another woman has a completely different and completely true knowledge and idea of the same subjects.

What is space, what is sound, what is time? And in the end, who really cares? It’s not as if we’re able to be certain of the answers anyway! Searching and discovering is wonderful, but remember that it could all be a complete fantasy, a ruse and completely invalid. I think if people went through life with more of that mentality people would take things less seriously, lead better lives, find something new, something good. Because there’s always something more to find.

If I Could

If I could only tell you
Of all that has been done
If only you could understand
Who and what I have become

If I could only tell you 
Of the worlds I’ve seen
Hills and trees of other place
Bright citadels that gleam

If I could only tell you
Of life I had to lead
Stripped of understanding voice
Learn to talk, to hear, to read

If I could only tell you
Of the strings and the ties
That I’ve bound myself up in
For safety if not wise

If I could only tell you
Of the people I have faced
Of the sea of strangers 
Independency embraced

If I could only tell you
Of the loneliness I’ve bared
Isolated, far away
Count the all tears I’ve shed

If I could only tell you
Of the friendships I now know
Lives shared, changed together
In shadows that we grow

If I could only tell you
Of the things I have done
The mistakes and the saves
The shame and marvelous fun

If I could only tell you
Of the monsters fought alone
Fears forced to face and overcome
In hardship I have grown

If I could only tell you
Of the things I hid from sight
To keep safe and whole, pretenses
Buried deep within the night

If I could only show you
Of all the wonders I have seen
Postcard pics, actually real
Like something from a dream

If I could only tell you
Of adventures I have had
Laughing and ridiculous 
The wondrous and the mad

If I could only show you
How much I am now
Who I’m truly becoming
…If only I knew how

The Road

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on,
Under cloud and under star.
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen,
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green,
And trees and hills they long have known.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone.
Let others follow, if they can!
Let them a journey new begin.
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

Still ’round the corner there may wait
A new road or secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun

That’s from J. R. R. Tolkien’s immortal books The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings.

Roads go ever ever on

Don’t just read it, say it. Roll the words around your mouth, savor them. Poetry is not meant to sit still on the page, of all forms of writing it is the most like music, and it wants to be read aloud, to come alive. That’s the best way to feel it. So say it now! You don’t need to be a Silvertongue to bring out the heart of a poem, from eye to ear, from ear to soul.

Flying Home

WARNING: Emotional rant 😛 If you don’t know me/care about me, I don’t recommend you read the following, unless you want some messily arranged psychological my-head insights.

I’m going home soon. That’s quite possibly the scariest truth I’m facing now. In 16 days I will be going home. Home; Melbourne, Australia. Home, mine, since I was 5, hosting my mother and father and beloved little sisters and grandparents, and all my cousins an hour or 12 away. Home, where I grew up, had my childhood, swam ran learned sang and laughed, made friends and lost them, the sprawling city I’ve loved, where I’ve planned for years to one day raise my own family. Home, a world I haven’t seen for nearing 10 months, 12 if you don’t count the ten days between Indonesia and Argentina.

 

I’m coming home
I’m coming home
Tell the world I’m coming home
Let the rain wash away
All the pain of yesterday
Know my kingdom awaits
They’ve forgiven my mistakes
I’m coming home
I’m coming home
Tell the world in coming…

 

If only it was that simple. On one hand, I will be returning, to the security of my own family, to the ease of 99.9% English, to the well known lives and paths of the people who have been around me for years. I won’t be Taasha from Australia who Came Here in February and Speaks Good Castellano now, or Taasha from Australia who Sits In Class Quietly (writing or reading, music or talking occasionally), or even Taasha from Australia who lives in Argentina, who has Travelled the World and Plays Guitar Music that Nobody Knows but Everyone Likes a Little. That’s surface-me here. That’s probably who and what they see, who I appear to be on first glance, and I’ve gotten used to ‘being’ that, even though that’s not who I was. Back home I was Taasha the Smart Talented Student, the Eldest Sister and Happy Caring Friend. I fit in, had family and friends and confidence and the security of years. They were the things I missed the most when I first arrived here, the things I ached and longed to have.

But I don’t anymore. It’s been bloody 10 months, I’ve gotten used to being alone, not understanding a lot of the time, being the strange one who has a hard time communicating, the one without a real family, the loner. The one who has seen more of this country than most of the people around me, (in less than a tenth of the time they’ve spent in it) seen more of the world than most of the people I’ve met, the one who’s learnt to cry silently in the night because she daren’t go to anyone in person. I’ve learnt to be that, and I’ve adapted, and it’s pretty good most of the time, especially the last 4 months. I’m the one who strolls confidently throughout the city, who has fantastic conversations with the street artists and revels in the vivacity of life, the one who never has homework, the one with the expensive iPhone, but lives out of a suitcase and a fantastic array of earrings. I’m happy here, happy being the odd lonely artistic Australian, and I know, knew this existence wasn’t sustainable or quite possibly healthy, but I also knew I couldn’t live craving what I’d left behind. So I didn’t.

And now I’m going home. Back to school in the morning, and classes that are actually taken seriously for a change 😛 and proper uniforms and no nailpolish or hoops, back to my wonderful family who sheltered and loved me enough to encourage me to fly away, friends who were all so close, before the year split us apart. Back to English and taking my bike instead of hailing a cab, busking for my money instead of going to an ATM, back to homework and exams and assignments and little sisters who are wonderful and pesky and talkative and loving and invasive and charming within 1/2 an hour. Back to the city being a dangerous place to hang out, going to the beach on the weekend, singing and hugging when I feel like it, not being alone anymore. But as always, the price of security is freedom.

Far away, long ago
Glowing dim as an ember,
Things my heart used to know,
Things it yearns to remember

Someone holds me safe and warm
Horses prance through a silver storm
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory…

Melody, long ago
Sing this song and remember,
Soon you’ll be, home with me
Once upon a December

~Once Upon a December, from the Disney Anastasia

It fits so well. Because it really has become more of a memory to me, the world I used to know. I’ve changed, I’ve learned to live alone, Argentina is my world now. I never quite belonged, but I was happy here, and now that it’s time to leave…I don’t want to. Change is frightening, especially when one is unsure of what change it’ll be. When I left on that plane, on an early Saturday morning, I only looked forward, to the exciting unknown new adventure I was facing, not back at the world I knew, loved and would someday return to. Now when I step onto the airplane, I’ll be leaving behind so many friends, so many places, memories, a world and way of life I will never be able to truly experience the same way again.

And the worst part is; the world, the home I’m returning to? It’s not the same anymore either. And neither am I.

Growing Up

Do you know what’s interesting? How people grow up. How people think. Just, imagining back when you were 7 or so. (For some that’ll be merely a handful of years, for others the dinosaurs were still evolving :P) But, remember how grown-up you felt? Like you were big and could handle anything. And then when you were 12. Leaving primary school/being in middle school and starting to look at boys and going out and doing things by yourself. Most definitely grown up. And looking at the 7 year old babies, how so much less mature they were. And then there’s you now, at whatever age you happen to be in. To quote Andrew Blake who probably quoted it off someone else, “You’ve never been as old as you are today.” or something like that. And it’s true. Things happen in your life, over the years, change your mind and how you perceive the world.

We, as individuals, are constantly changing, the same way a teenage boy is constantly growing – and although its difficult to measure in small doses, and easier to see after large intervals of time. I think maybe that’s part of the reason teenagers get so cocky; because they’re thinking new thoughts with bigger, opener minds, and they can see that they are, and how much more similar they are, and independent, from the ‘Adults’. So, they start thinking that they’ve matured Enough, and that they should be treated the same as The Grown Ups. I don’t blame them, everybody wants to be important, independent and treated like a grown up – even 7 year olds. But that’s the thing I’ve been coming to realize. It’s not that simple. There isn’t ever any stopping point, a marker that says Done. There’s always something more, wisdom experience or understanding, that matures you that much more. Think about the Adults in the world around you – sometimes, they too have nofuckingidea what to do, what to say, or what the solution is to the curveball life’s thrown at them. 😛

It’s like those head-spinning physics theories, about 7th and 8th + dimensions. They could quite plausibly exist, but it’s incredible hard to imagine the idea of existing with extra dimensions, simply because we have no idea what it could possibly be like. Our minds cannot fathom an idea it has never encountered, it can’t imagine something so alien to anything it knows. There’s been examples made, of 2 dimensional and three dimensional worlds, but for more modem world examples; try and ask a lifelong nun to describe the sensation of French kissing. Or a man to describe the pain of giving birth. Or even a child who has lived on a farm inland all her life to describe the ocean in all 5 senses. It’s impossible. Not their fault at all, and I’m sure there are things a celibate nun has experienced that a boy-happy teen party girl hasn’t. But that’s the great conundrum of life really, getting more, be it experience or wisdom or understanding. Or maybe I’m just an a-typical Ravenclaw 😛

Back to the point though – we can’t imagine anything beyond what we’ve already experienced. So how can we imagine or be any wiser or more mature than we already are? Simply put, time. Just keep living, living life to the full, living and experiencing as much to the full as you can. And accept that there’s still more, that there’s always things you don’t yet understand. Yet.