Tatter talk

"Letting go of the past could be easy".
The truth?It's tougher than I thought.
Hard to forgive and be forgiven,and definitely hard to forget.

What Homemaker?

Holiday,holiday,holiday..
I'm almost restless now.A month passed by just like a gust of wind which blows in these torrid days:empty,humid,miserable and definitely ennui.Nothing significant.I have too much free time.Yup,and when that happens my brain begins to put on it's own thinking cap instead of what I demanded.A lot of things comes to mind,all at once and you will start wondering further and further which one comes first and which are next.

I do not look for a job as I'm planning to go through journals,researches and books to figure out my thesis topic for my final year.I'm considering psycholinguistic as one of the area I would go beside considering sociolinguistic as well.(Sigh,I know someone will give me a nerd look for this)
I'm supposed to learn italian and french too..to the extend where I can at least read the children story books.My progress?Nothing much really.. I seem to have wasted my holiday trying to figure out new recipes (they taste awful!) and coping with the piano lessons.It feels better hitting the remote control than the keys at times but overall,it's satisfying.And the piano?It's a different story already.I never thought I'd ever get the chance to play and now I do!It's like a dream come true.Our house now is polluted with noises caused by my sister,me and even my mum sometimes.
Apart from the mundane routine and the fascinating piano,the one thing that I'm obliged to do is dealing with house chores and look after my sister.So,except for paying bills and handling the rubbish bin,and teaching her add math,I'm the woman :P
At first things seem okay and perfect:everything is spic and span,in order and going according to plan.But,when my taller-than-me and rebellious sister starting to get on my nerves,I'm afraid I might have wrinkles already.Now I think I get it why some said that raising a child is the toughest job in the world.We can't simply be selfish.See,toddlers and babies are adorable,children can be noisy but truly charming,and bigger than that are nuisance!But thanks to her,I learned what PATIENCE means.It takes all of me to cope with her temperamental change of mood.I started to wonder if I was like that when I was in her age and I did.*Grin*

Again,I never thought we would be able to sit down together and talk like a BFF when I finally decided to give myself in and listen to the stuff she does in school which I previously brush aside by telling her,"been there,done that.." Aiks,I found out that she's quite secretive and I'm determined to change that..hopefully.So,in spite of this hebetudinous days I do pick up something useful that might come in handy if I were to have kids of my own in the future.What amused me recently is that I can't believe I'm watching the "Nanny 911" show..I thought it would be jejune and banal but it's not.

Wildflowers

The hills were alive with wildflowers
And I was as wild, even wilder than they
For at least I could run, they just died in the sun
And I refused to just wither in place

Just a wild mountain rose, needing freedom to grow
So I ran fearing not where I'd go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers don't care where they grow

And the flowers I knew in the fields where I grew
Were content to be lost in the crowd
They were common and close
I had no room for growth
I wanted so much to branch out

I uprooted myself from home ground and left
Took my dreams and I took to the road
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers don't care where they grow.

I grew up fast and wild and I never felt right
In a garden so different from me
I just never belonged, I just longed to be gone
So the garden, one day, set me free

Hitched a ride with the wind and since he was my friend
I just let him decide where we'd go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers don't care where they grow.

When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers don't care where they grow.

By Dolly Parton