I’m grateful for all the chances I’ve had to love.

From Day Nine of NaPoWriMo, because I’ve finally started gaining confidence and momentum! It’s late, I know, April’s almost over, but it’s been such fun.

Today’s prompt was suggested by Bruce Niedt. Here’s Bruce’s explanation: take any random song play list (from your iPod, CD player, favorite radio station, Pandora or Spotify , etc.) and use the next five song titles on that randomized list in a poem.

My list
Safe & Sound (Taylor Swift feat. The Civil Wars)
We Might Be Dead Tomorrow (SoKo)
Once Upon a Dream (from “Maleficent”) (Lana Del Rey)
When the Darkness Comes (Colbie Caillart)
Lost It All (Black Veil Brides)

When the darkness comes,
Don’t fret, it will be swift.
Shh, I’ll hold your hand, and
We’ll be safe and sound.
We’ve lost it all before
And nothing can touch us now.
Once upon a dream, we believed
In fairytales: good for the good;
No rest for the wicked.
So love with all your heart
When you have the rare chance,
For we might be dead tomorrow.

I’m grateful for new friends.


Once you’re out of school, out of university, it becomes quite difficult to meet new friends with whom one has an affinity. I also find that as I get older, I also…

  • … become increasingly fussy about how and with whom I spend my increasingly limited time, especially whenever I’m working, because I give my work a decent amount of my energy and time;
  • … become less people-pleasing (and have less patience for bitchiness, double-standards, people who can dish criticism but can’t take it, and boring people), and therefore less likely to form false friends, cutting out a portion of people I would previously have had more time for (no loss); and
  • … I need a lot of alone-time and I love love love reading.

Another experience shared by many non-schooling adults is that there are fewer necessary non-work functions (such as lectures, tutorials, extra-curricular activities, commitments to non-scholastic campus activities, student concerts and performances, etc.) that create “spaces” in which you must be around other people in your age group and with lots in common. There are fewer “spaces”, full-stop, for random but likeminded adults to find each other in real-life. And there are more commitments that compete for our time.

We also spend a lot more time online and perform many more functions online, sacrificing random face-to-face time and the serendipity that comes with that.

When I think about all of this, I am grateful whenever I meet new, genuine friends with whom I can easily connect as an adult, and sometimes even connect quite deeply with. Some of them have become my best friends.

I think these moments of fate and (for the skeptical/cynical) coincidence also remind me that we never, never know when things can happen that can change our lives for the better in an instant.

This post was inspired by a timeless and amusing piece by a dear and treasured friend of mine (yes, whom I met when we were both in the workplace), here: What do you do with, “what do you do?”

Picture attribution: Attribution Some rights reserved by thetaxhaven

Reposting: I’m grateful for time.

I am having difficulty concentrating on much else today but the missing plane in the Thai Gulf. If you haven’t heard about it by now, you may have been living under a rock. Still, it has brought into sharp focus how unexpectedly big things can happen to us and to our loved ones.

So, I am reposting this past post, which is, more than ever, how I feel today, and hoping for the best for those aboard MH370. Because, until the fat lady sings, it ain’t over till it’s over. You just never know, sometimes.

I’m grateful for time.

For the survivors of the fall. 

Where are you, sleek quiet little bird? 
Your silence is resounding, bearing
Heavily down on all the world, not a word; 
Its suddenness unusual and unnerving.
Break to the surface, breathe, and scream,
Six are near, listening for your call;
In the waters they barge and teem.
Above, they scan the sea’s endless gleam.
Where are you and your precious cargo?

I’m grateful for time.


I am grateful for time. It was not always evident as such a lovely gift, because my family has robust genes in the health department. I have never had any life-threatening physical illnesses or injuries. But it is a gift, and I have never appreciated it more than I do now, given time to recover from FOMO and pushing myself so hard.

I am grateful for a long period of innocence about the world, only experiencing true heartbreak at the professional and personal levels late in life; for experiencing loss late in life. That was a lot of blissfully unaware time that many people in the world don’t get to enjoy.

I’m grateful for time for recovery, for reflection and for travel; grateful for time to make friends and nurture friendships, to be nurtured and to nurture others.

I’m grateful for time for university and studies, for ballet and music, for these “softer” things in life. For books and reading. When I think of this, I sometimes recall the poem, “The City Filled with Orange Trees”, and feel both guilty and thankful for the good fortune to be born in a safe, secure place with clean, responsible government.

I’m grateful for time for, well, life: for warm tropical beaches and dark, windy oceans; for exciting and mournful journeys; for happy and dreaded arrivals, relieved and wrenching departures; for home, for direction, for learning new skills. Time for bravery, for mistakes, for cowardice; for love, loss and aching emptiness.

I’m grateful for time for many and different sweet grassy summers, crisp crackling bright orange and yellow and scarlet and brown autumns; for still, quiet sighing shiny-flecked white snow winters; for lush rich dark green chirping fluttering springs.

I’m grateful for time, for the sanity and insanity of work, the absurdity of life.

Picture attribution: Deret at WallpapersWide.com.