For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.

- Audrey Hepburn

Dear reader,

Somehow, I find it's when I've got a million things to do that blogging suddenly becomes the one thing I want to do.  I could be finishing my 2000-word report, finding out what I need to do today, reviewing the work I've learnt over the past few weeks, replying e-mails, finding out how to do internet banking and so much more.  But instead, I'm here, thinking about life, love and laughter.

I realise there's so much to be thankful for this year, particularly in Australia.  I've been blessed with good friends, a good school, good housing, and the lovely Australian weather.  Somehow, everything is so relaxed, even while rushing a paper you haven't started till nine o'clock the night before.  

Looking at the cards people gave me before I left, and the extra special one I received after I came, brings me especial gladness.  I know I'm loved, I know there is much to love; that gives me the strength to go on even when I go existentialist.

It's funny though, that coming to Australia has made me more Singaporean.  I come to realise the differences between my culture and other peoples', and although I tend to adapt to other people, I can't help but feel a certain pride for my own culture.  As much as Sydney's cosmopolitan and multicultural, its societies largely cohabit in a kind of isolation from each other.  They are distinct and separate as pigeonholes in a post office.  Although Singapore isn't exactly perfectly blended, there is a certain appreciation for each other's culture, and an evolution of a fused culture that is, I suppose rather cheesily, uniquely Singaporean.

Another thing that has happened is that I find that I can express myself through dance more easily here.  Perhaps this is because, unlike in Singapore where I have my own dance studio, there's no real place I can dance completely comfortably on my own, so I have to make any space I dance in a place that I can dance comfortably in.  I increasingly find the need to take solace in art, which is something I know I count on to soothe my ruffles.  I miss playing the piano though.

I realised on my run the other day that sometimes we need words for more than just expressing ourselves to other people.  If you are reading this, mum, I run only during the day or with a friend.  It's very safe and the traffic is definitely less than in Singapore.  We need them for ourselves to understand ourselves.  It hit me that I've been spending all this time trying to find the words to describe and process what has happened in my life, because of some precept that if I do, I will somehow be better able to understand my past and be more forward-looking.  Words and the ability to use them have a power that I've long lusted after, but am only beginning to understand.  

Some days I would give anything for a night back in Singapore, to dance or just spend time with people whom I can pour my heart out to.  It's so easy back home.

Praying for you,

writer.

Right here, write now.

Today I was on the bus, pondering life's mysteries (see, life is not so very different in another country), when I suddenly realised why I write, why I chronicle my thoughts and emotions. Simply put, it's because memories of these things aren't very lasting. Feelings are ephemeral, fading with the light of each new morning, and very soon what you want to remember is forgotten.

Sometimes, it's better this way. To live in the here and now, and be focused on what I need to do - many times I wish I could be more like this, rather than living with my head in some obscure cumulonimbus of its own. Better not to dwell in the past, especially if it's painful or bittersweet.

But as it turns out, writing is precisely what we turn to to capture our reveries, our caprices, our very souls. Reading a book by a master of the language lifts us up to greater heights, or acts as a kind of catharsis to our own repressed emotion. Writing for yourself is no different. You don't have to be particularly eloquent. A few choice words suffice to trigger a torrent of recollection.

It's like mother says - if you think you'll forget it, write it down.