Memories in Volcanic Ash

It’s been a while.

The last time I did any form of typing on this website was just before yet another move, yet more change.

Once again, an odd 20 months later, the time has once more come. I sometimes feel as if my life could be compared to the physics of diffusion, slowly drifting the world till memories are made equally all around. Till every nook has been seen, footprints marking places once stood.

Like footprints, the longer one remains in place, the deeper that indented cleft will mark the soil, the longer it will remain. Sometimes, volcanic ash preserves that distinctive imprint, clarity for centuries to come. Other times, the hungry pangs of quicksand and marsh swallow it whole, reforming nature to it’s default undisturbed state.

Continue reading Memories in Volcanic Ash

It’s official. I’m Pulling up Roots. Again

I’ve been rather silent for some time now. Dropped off my peak in Blog Posts in February. And that’s because, it was just after that, that once again my life changed.

After much consideration over the past few years, we had ruled out Northern Ireland, Britain, Singapore, and the rest of Malaysia for College, and it was decided I was going to study my A-levels at a local college in my state.

Then, unforeseen things happened, and in a whirlwind of the past few months, it turns out that my family will be moving nearly 700km away, to start a new life. Again.

Continue reading It’s official. I’m Pulling up Roots. Again

Living in a Country with 4 Spoken Languages. Any problems?

I’ve always been around many languages. Its just something I never thought twice about. I was brought up on English, and lived in Chinese, hence, I speak both English and Mandarin fluently. I also live in a majority-Malay country, and therefore am forced to pick up a teeny bit of Bahasa Melayu in order to survive. Finally, I have a pretty big handful of Indian friends who chatter about in Tamil.

Pretty Pickle ain’t it?

Continue reading Living in a Country with 4 Spoken Languages. Any problems?

Who am I? I am a Confusion of Culture.

“I am
a confusion of culture.
Uniquely me.
I think this is good
because I can
understand
the traveller, sojourner, foreigner,
the homesickeness
that comes.
I think this is also bad
because I cannot
be understood
by the person who has sown and grown in the same place.
They know not
the real meaning of homesickeness
that hits me
now and then.
Sometimes I despair of
understanding them.
I am
an island
and
a United Nations.
Who can recognize either in me
but God?”

-Alex Graham James