Paradox

Today is one of those mornings – the sun is shining bright, birds are chirping, the trees waving at you – but I can’t feel the music of it. It is right there, whirling around me but I simply cannot register all this fairy tale beauty. It’s as if my melancholic self is repelling all this beautiful things as I trudge wearily on my way to where I need to go.

Then began an internal examination of a strange sort: Why am I melancholic? Didn’t I just have a fantastic dinner and then Snowflake dessert (lemon jade jelly, yum) with a cherished old friend last night? Didn’t I accomplish all my goals so far for year 2011…despite a few work-in-progress here and there? Didn’t I get my eight hours of sleep? Was it PMS? And then this trail of thoughts dissipate but my weariness remain. What am I weary at? At life? At disturbed sleep?

Then I think back about one morning when I was in Berlin. It was a dreary morning. Rain was lashing at the window pane, and the skies were so dark and overcast. I had to wear layers and layers of clothes, because four seasoned weather is so new to me – scarves, coat, gloves and shoes. But I was so happy. It did not matter that the buffet line served only bacons, hams and eggs, with no nasi lemak in sight. It did not matter that I was a single person having my breakfast all alone surrounded by foreigners. It certainly did not matter I took a wrong bus and had to find my way back. What mattered was the skip in my step as I finally stepped onto the pavement of the streets of Berlin that morning, revelling in the cool misty air that is common after the rain.

Maybe this means I need another vacation…