"There is no seamless way to close a chapter without acknowledging its existence in the new one. The link here is a tribute to the days before these days -http://nyott.blog.friendster.com"

Friday, November 19, 2010


Florence, 4.19pm. Weather, rainy with hopeful sunshine.

As I lay down in the bedroom looking at the arched low ceiling above me, i thought, let this be an epic I have not written for a considerable amount of time. Survival has always been an addiction of mine. Being not totally indulged in comfort and to do just the absolute necessary is a constant choice I have not been fully aware of making. I thought I just had simple needs. All of my fondest memories archived in me are the times that I was plainly surviving. One of those would be the time that I rescued a cow patch colored kitten whom I named Blue. Living in a studio where pets are not allowed and having just 2 other separators from the bedroom, one to the toilet and one more to the mini balcony, I enjoyed surviving his fury company. I did not have a TV then which i purposefuly kept that way for quite some time, and we would sprawl on my bed watching dvds from my laptop at night. There was a pattern I have enjoyed so much sharing my life with an unwanted cat. The routine of having his food ready before I go to work, the constant rush to go home from work because there is a life form counting on you to feed him, the busy afternoons where I would try to catch the scorching sun to dry sheets and carpets while he watched me putting my life together in that little and peaceful world we're in. During those times, nothing else matters but going to work so that you have enough bread for his food and shelter, and some remnants for yours. It is cheesy I know, but routines give room for you to remember God, I guess that's what prayers are for, you succumb to such routines 5 times a day while doing your other routines in between each prayer time.

Since those simpler times, I have collected many junks. A tv, a play station, more sheets, no more washing clothes in the bathtub (now you know) and spreading clean lines in the face of the sun, but braving my way to the laundry, a love life. Junks meaning not that they are trash, but indulgence in life that I can't deny, we can do without. I did not have those junks before not because I couldnt afford it, but I liked it that way, really liked it that way.

And then, after being indulged by such things (and still is), that's when I can be my own weapon of self destruction. I began to crave for utter survival again. I left my job of 5 years which has served me comfort and gains and which was 10 minutes away from home, to an empty void of the unknown. And i remembered that the day I left was one of my happiest days. Now i've traded my destiny to a commuting affair to the office each day, with a work culture and many other culture still alien to me. I did not understand why, until recently I almost fainted in the train and had to call for some strangers' help, that all I need is to be in a state where it is not comfortable. Now that I have bought a house with a promised 15 feet extra garden space from the original plan, I'm quite anxious of what I would do next in order be in a state of hardship and survival again. Maybe the corny notion of having "the" house, "the" partner, "the" career, "the" life brings a shiver over my spine that these are all merely illusions of the idiocy of the world. And yet being the "hippy" does not tempt me either. I should have lived in medieval times where I think my basic wants are perfectly fitting. Spin the wool and make blankets for the winter, bring the pail of dirty landry to the river while do some innocent flirting on my way to the river, feed the cows and horses, make tea for tea, dinner for dinner. After all what is there but to get through every day alive, warm and well!

So in my struggle of searching for struggle and trimming down on junks, I want to try to focus on the necessary routines such as prayers, and eat according to normal eating time, sleep according to normal sleeping time, fight when it needs be, laugh when it needs be, work as it needs be and surrender to God for his guidance and mercy to deal with the rest of treasures and junks that may come my way in future. I know it's hard to believe, but try to believe me especially when you get a little weary of this so called life, only God and his words are the absolute necessary. Try not to let both the jewels and junks of the world distract you from your time with God. I am still trying very hard!

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Mama Says Rosettes

I’m in London, waiting for the next flight out. I’m literally typing while looking up at the board for Pisa to show Go To Gate. While reading the ‘Life of Pi’, which is a fabulous book by the way, I read a line that says “…the rosettes on a leopard’s skin” and I vividly recall the first time mama taught me that word. It was when I had to make a skirt for a home economics class, that I’m making small buds of red roses from ribbons, that mama says, “They’re called rosettes.” Beautiful word dont you think?

Wednesday, October 20, 2010


I have been very tired lately. I dont think it's my feet that's hurting from commuting to the office. I think i've been tired because i lost a bit of joy. I then thought, is joy that momentarily elated feeling that you have as been described as bliss or happiness. But then I've dicovered and putting a patent to it, that joy is associated with a very long term view you have on your life. My view used to be a vast open space (that can be lonely at times), but free. With this carved out path that I have going for me, it has been filled with meanings and interpretations, it has been real, it has been stable - but it has undoubtedly sacrificed joy along the way. Nightingale only sings in the woods not in the palace, because there in the wild, he found his voice. I have not forgotten to write, that is what i'm paid to be doing most of the time. But very much so, i have lost the joy to write. I felt that I lost my voice, that I have nothing to say, that the joy in my heart has been traded with something else with my own consent. The deal is done. Now the question remains, can i get it back.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

I am sending you a postcard

After a long overdue, and quite unnecessary trip to the post office, i had a whimsical notion to send you a handmade postcard with messages only you and i share (and maybe mr.postman if he's interested). I am aware of my disconnection with you due to my indecision to join facebook. Don't get me wrong, i am a little too old for rebellion (without a cause), i am not a sociophobic, i simply can't keep up with e-networking religiously due to the simple facts that

1. i have not had internet installed in my house since i moved out,

2. fb is banned in my previous office,

3. i have very early bedtime.

I think (only an assumption) that you would not mind receiving a nice lil' postcard in your mailbox from me, so do indulge me the privilege of sending you one! There is no timeline to this, i will entertain your beep and send you a postcard from a post office from anywhere i am. Just copy the below form and send it to azurahk@gmail.com.

Your Name:
You are a Friend / Stranger: F / S
Your Home Address:
Some message from you:

It's just a little token of appreciation for you to take time to drop by at my new blog, and i have to say, just doing my lil' bit for the ol' trusted post office.