Glasgae!

today four parades went by our window, well probably it was two parades twice each, going and coming back, with much drumming and cheerful piping and marchers in dark suits with black umbrellas braving the drizzle, well the consensus in our apartment is that glaswegians are delightfully crazy. banners and Union Jacks waving and formations holding steady, complete with police escort in neon yellow vests, bright patches against the grey of today, such a contrast to the paraders who looked as if they could have been part of a funeral procession. i thought of that emily dickinson poem we did in form five english lit class,

There'll be that dark parade

Of tassels and of coaches soon

that was how they looked. sinead was telling me about how the protestants (orange) and the catholics have competing parades, i wonder which was which, i wonder if the Orange side hears the Popish procession go by in the morning (or the other way round) and gets on the phone, everyone galvanised instantly out of bed or away from breakfast, and hurriedly round up enough people to put on their own show, tit for tat,

it's funny!

on another note, we've had bagpipes for about eight hours a day, the uni band i think, marching up and down just out of sight. sometimes they come and practice on the slope in front of james blyth, ooooh never went close enough to discern any eye candy, only watched and listened from the kitchen window for about a minute at a time while washing dishes,

kilts are cool.

glasgae!

my song: Muse-Starlight

"this ship is carrying me far away, far away from those who care if I live or die"

my family needs me. my friends miss me. i know i'm loved but sometimes that's poor consolation. i won't ask "will things ever be the same again?" because they won't. i'll be changed when the time comes to go home. home will be different. life moves on. it truly is the end of an era (to quote Dickens). what's done is done. i guess this is growing up. it's taken a long time in my case.

just hold on, hold on to the memories, but don't let them take over, make new memories for later years, like a patchwork quilt full of gay colours and shiny threads, make sure the predominant colours are brights, stay on the right track spiritually, i will always have that at least, Jehovah will "draw close to me" as it says in james 4:8. take the risks, take the opportunities, i've always been lacking in that area.

live, love and keep the faith. the skies will clear one day.

interchange

romans 1:12 "that there may be an interchange of encouragement."

john and donna, thank you so much. you'll never read this, but i can't describe how much it meant to me to have someone recognise the sacrifices i'm making to be in this congregation. just to know that you understand and you approve-that's the best gift i could receive at this time. i love you both. it's what lisa might have done for me if she were here.

"gifts in men."

to that, i add "and women."

in the gardens

in the gardens
i wrote something for the first time in months, maybe more than a year, while sitting out in the sun in the gardens. i think it's the first time since i was about ten that i've chosen to sit in the sun on purpose. funny. i guess there will always be some of malaysia in me, deep down, no matter what happens. it's only natural. why would we want to sit in the sun when we get so much of it? but the past few weeks have taught me the value of sunlight and warmth-in moderation.

anyway. this was what was scrunched up in my fmt module notes on the back of my formula sheet.

"I am happy, sitting on a sun-warmed bench of blackened wood, made smooth by the friction of years. Reeds and water plants droop over the stream as it rushes over pebbly granite rocks, and pale purple flowers bend shyly from their stems which emerge from a corolla of round, dark green leaves. The wind is cool but refreshing, not stifling as it sometimes was back home. I can understand the people and places that I have read about now--the people and places born under this pale sun. The puddles shimmer as trainers squeak past and the images of the trees flicker and steady again. Cool water gushes and whishes all the time and I wonder what life, or non-life lurks in the depths. Gleaming brown, speckled or moss-green movements and glimpses, hiding from the sun who flirts with the clouds like a shy seventeen-year-old, tantalising us with moments of warmth like the touch of soft fingers. Even under the sun there are shadows and cool places where the sun's reviving rays never venture; they are the reminders that all light and warmth in this land are transient and to be treasured, for this is the North, where the stories of misty glens and deer and red-haired, blue-eyed Highlanders were born. Am I really here? So far from the skies I was born under, yet I am happy."

verbatim. it's no good, but i want to remember what it was like that sunny afternon when i discovered rowan berries (tolkien's "rowan fair!") and there was the scent of roses in the air.

glasgow all by my lonesome

so this is a form of release, for me and myself to write about each other all by ourselves here in glasgow. half a world and a few time zones away from home, i could be happy if i had a little more time and a lot more people here with me.

i like to not use caps when i write, it makes things look anonymous--and more unassuming somehow. why do i feel the need to justify myself? this is my place to vent, and ramble, and say all (well, some) of the things I think, but can't bring myself to say to anyone. why? because i don't think i know anyone who would understand and that i would want to tell. honestly. i know it sounds angsty. yeah, i know i should have outgrown that stage by now. oh well i'm not this way in real life (promise!).

two weeks more. summer. soft gold sun and fresh air and floaty dresses, and flowers i don't know the names of, and new places which have been old friends calling to me, and i have to bury myself in books. the wrong kind of books. oh well. life can only get better.

it has to be a good year.