It is a stormy weekend. The weather is cold and windy. I stayed at home.
I made a mistake today, maybe it will become a big mistake. I think I have hurt someone’s feelings, made them upset.
It is still stormy outside. The weather is cold and windy. I stayed in my room.
I hope I can make things better again.
Here I am still trying to write my research paper proposal. The voices in my head won’t leave me alone, always destroying my sentences and arguments everytime I write them down. They are even screaming in my head right now as I try to write my blog, which I actually don’t know what this entry should be about.
So… tomorrow is Sunday, I need to go to church and finish my RP proposal and send to my supervisor. Today is Saturday, I went grocery shopping. Yesterday was Friday… I went swimming and did 60 laps. In the afternoon I went shopping in Centrum, bought sunglasses and a t-shirt. Felt pretty good to have bought those things. Really wish I feel pretty good today as well.
Well there… my blog. Now you voices inside my head can shut up.
(Scenes from a memory)
"De profundis clamavi ad te Domine."
It is a cloudy and wet Monday morning as I sit in front of my computer trying to type something up which I have no confidence or clear direction in writing, with earphones attached to my head playing haunting piano music further emphasizing the isolation that I feel at this moment in time.
It seems so distant even though it was just a week ago, I remember how we were sitting under the warm Parisian sun, looking at tourists go by. Sitting at a table in the Jardin de Tuilleries, sipping creamy cafe au lait and sharing a warm piece of cake dabbed with creme fraiche. Or how we could feel the free cool spring breeze besides the small lake where we shared lunch in Versailles. And how the green leaves felt so peaceful in the Jardin de Luxembourg in the Quartier Latin.
It was also only yesterday that we saw a group of schoolgirls with clear honest faces singing praises in church. How they sang, of just calling unto God whenever we felt alone and afraid, down in the depths of our confusion or troubles. I wish I had their voice, I wish I could sing that song with all my heart and still keep a clear face built on a solid belief that I will, in the end, see the light.
Sometimes I wonder how hard it is to feel peace. A peace that is built out of simple things like breathing the clean fresh morning air, watching the ducks bathe in the river, smelling the crisp fragrance of the first leaves of spring. Ah, those green leaves… if only they could instill much more hope in my heart. I wish things were simple sometimes and that peace would come, like it does when I look into those soft brown eyes…
