Monday, 27 May 2013

Ooh, 999 page views!

In my glass: jasmine green tea
From my iPod: Thanig an Gille Dubh (a lovely Gaelic song from a cd I got at the NCETM)
From my bookshelf: Anatomy
Outside: dark
My mood: good
Today's hairstyle: nautilus, followed by knot-pony, followed by English braid
I know what youre thinking: two posts so soon? Well, in celebration of my nearing 1000 views, and of finally becoming a "Guru" over on the LHC after more than two years, I have one of my own poems for you. But first, a couple of things..
For those of you LHC-ers (you know who you are) out there, whether you've been following me, or simply clicked on my siggy-link, I wish to ask a question: what do you think my new custom user title should be? (For those of you who are newer to the forum, or not on at all, those who reach the required post-count and also spend more than 365 days on the forum can change the section that says "member" under their username). If you have any ideas the either post them down below or send me a little PM on the boards (name is tigereye over there too)
Second of all, an update on me: so its the middle of exam time, and I have merely four days until they are all over. Yes, I'm stressing, but after the horrific year I've had this one, I have to admit, this is truly the best I have felt in a long, long time. Maybe it's something to do with the sun, and having the time to spend outdoors, even if revising, but I do think its something much more than that. Something appears to have made a huge mark on my life, though I won't say what for sake of jinxing it - don't worry, you can probably guess, and even so,will all know in time. Anyway, the pain in my life has become so much easier to bear, and yes, sometimes I even forget, except for maybe when one of my uncles tunes comes on the radio, or iPod, or at a concert, or a gig, and I'm struck by a feeling of loss once more. But even then, I don't so much feel the pain. It's mostly given way to a sort of gladness that I was blessed to be a part of that family, to still be able to hear his music being played, to know that his time here, though too short, will never be forgotten. And true, sometimes it still is really painful, and the legacy left to me is often difficult to bear, I can still see it somewhat as a gift. I may not see myself as a great musician, but I still find the great joy in playing music. I may still be known to many as daughter, granddaughter, niece, sister of all those infamous musicians of the family, but really, that no longer bothers me. I no longer have the need to fight that identity in order to be seen as me. In fact, I see it almost as a great gift, that I grew up around such wonderful music, and be blessed with such a wonderful family. It is as much a part of "me" as any of the other things I've ever mentioned here. I feel so much further on than I did during my more depressive periods this past year, and even before that, in the time since my uncles death. The death of three people from my high school in the last year, two of which were in my year, and classes, before we all parted ways two short years ago, has hit me hard. The knowledge that one of those was a suicide hit me even harder, especially because of the difficulty I had with coming to terms with my uncles. I missed the anniversary this year. We always used to go up to his gravesite on the day in December - a wee group of us - but I missed it this year; I was in uni, and didn't finish in time to go. That was hard. But like I said, this is definitely a better time for me. I will go back up to the grave when i go home this summer. Lay some flowers, maybe play a tune on my fiddle, just have some time there by myself. I still plan on getting that tattoo. I think it will be easier now, maybe to see it as somewhat of a more happy reminder. As I recently explained to a close friend, it doesn't represent death, so much as a reminder that life needn't be taken so seriously all the time.
Thirdly, my brother is much better now. He is off the majority of his meds,has come off the warfarin, and even has a job bag piping a few days a week. He brings in more money in a week than I seem to make in a whole month. The clot is still there, and will probably forever be there, but, bar some headaches, it no longer affects him so much. He's currently also in the middle of the exams he missed when this happened last year. I think the experience has changed him somewhat, but neither for better, or for worse. He is still my brother, and I cannot express how happy I am to still have him here. It also made me realise how many people there are out there who truly care about us. Sometimes it feels like there are none other than my brother (for I know he is always there for me) who care, but this showed me just how many people really do.
Fourthly, a few lines that crossed my mind today when I came across my old dance shoes and my painted wooden folding fan as I was packing: "Life is a dance we all begin as a child - an ever changing beat we move with. We can chose how to dance, and even whether to dance at all. I do not know much, but I do know that I dance not for the money, for beauty, but for the love of the dance itself. To find the rhythm that keeps life good - keeps me good, with the people, with the music, and with the life that makes me, me.."

And lastly, that poem. It is called "Morning, Sleepyhead" and yes, it is one of my own poems:

A little tap against my cheek
Startles me awake from fitful dreams
Of tigers chasing dolphins in a clear sea

Blue eyes stare down at me
One side reflecting the first pink glint
Of a morning sunrise over distant hills

I close my eyes again in vain
An attempt to return to those odd visions
Of tigers, dolphins, sea - but all gone now.

The tap comes again

My eyes shooting open once more
Catch the tiny, furry paw pulling quickly back
To support his wobbly crouch right on my sternum.

The little weight shifts as he looks at me
And his mouth opens in a big, wide yawn,
Showing all his perfect white teeth in the light.

His whiskers tickle the back of my hand
As I go to rub my eyes somewhat awake
An odd, light sensation still somewhat ethereal.

I move to sit up and yawn widely
The first sudden burst of sun catching my eye.
He glowers at me as he topples into my lap.

The scratchy tongue runs over my finger
Velcro over hard nail and soft skin.
He stands up, sleek, cream and brown.

His huge eyes sit large in his angular face
And he opens his mouth: "prrrmmrraaaaaooowww"
Says he, in his low, unbefitting voice.

Such is the morning ritual of our little Siamese

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