Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Inside the Flat

It is now about 10 degrees in Melbourne. Six pm and it’s already very dark. I’ve been alone for three days now since my flatmate went to the Hillsong conference in Sydney. Haven’t really gone out and since the office doesn’t need me for two weeks, there really hasn’t been a need to step out of the flat. I keep hoping the recruitment agency will call though.

Been reading a friend’s blog for the first time. He writes really well and he’s very honest. I envy his fluid and articulate writing style. I can see
that he’s in love but the outcome isn’t clear yet. I know what an exciting and painful state it is to be in. When my husband was still courting me, he used to liken the situation to a poem by T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock:

“It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?”

I wish him well.

The birds were madly singing an hour before now. I don’t know why. Yesterday, I looked out the window. A great leafless tree was bare except for a brown bird, its reddish chest giving it the appearance of plumpness. I kept staring out the window and the bird continued to stay perched on the tree.

These days I alternate between feelings of joy and sadness. I long for my former home, the comforts, the protection, the love and companionship of family and friends. Some days I wake up from dreams of being in Project 2. Often I think about my husband and cry because I miss him so much.

Sometimes I feel happy for the giant and baby steps I’ve taken. I learned to drive a car. Learned to cook dishes other than instant noodles. Learned to take in the beauty of trees. Learned to take my turn at the washing machine. Learned to change my resume for every application. Learned what it is to be in want. Learned I’m no better than anyone else.

For this I thank God and yet I cry out in pain. I feel like I'm being pruned and all I can do is wait and pray. Meanwhile Coldplay’s Speed of Sound keeps playing in my head and I know I need to send my resume to another ten companies.
"And birds go flying at the speed of sound,
to show you how it all began.
Birds came flying from the underground,
if you could see it then you'd understand"