I got my hair cut short today, reader. Not as short as I'd threatened, but still short enough that it swishes from side to side as I walk and so loose tendrils tickle my ears.
I've wanted to get my hair pixie short for a while now, but that desire was warring with my affection for the hair I've grown so painstakingly, so I compromised and settled for a bob. I like it. And the whole experience was so fun, with S beside me for moral support. We gossiped and the hairstylist went snip-snip and in no time, I looked totally different. 

Twenty four

Two hours and twenty eight minutes left reader, before I turn twenty four. It's high time I wrote one of those reflective posts, no? It's become a habit of mine, one that extends to New Year's Eve, festivals, anniversaries, and often just Monday, to stop and take stock of my life and write a moody piece about it. 

The house is silent just now. Panda is sitting beside me, staring suspiciously at the heater. I can see the reflection of its red coil in his eyes. It's cold, but bearably so, I suppose. This winter must've toughened me.

Twenty four, reader. It doesn't feel awfully significant. Next year now, you'll catch me panicking about turning the first corner. This year I'm remarkably resigned, and secretly rather proud of my resignation. 

A year older and finally a little wiser, I think. I learnt some rather painful but valuable lessons this year. I made a lot of decisions that I really hope are the right ones. For the first time in a long time, I find I'm at peace with myself. It's a flimsy peace, but I've learned not to question it too much. It shall get fortified slowly. 

That's a lesson that was particularly hard. Patience. For a long time, I felt like I was sitting around waiting for my life to happen. Then I realised I had to seize the reins, and make it happen for myself. So I tried that and got upset over and over again. I carried on with more guts than gumption, but it finally occurred to me to stop and figure out what I was doing wrong. This driving stuff is hard. But I have faith that with time, I'll get better at it. 

And right there is another lesson. Acceptance. I used to scoff at faith. I had very little patience with the devout and the unquestioning. But sometimes, I learnt, you need to hold on to something, be it something as ephemeral as a belief. Things will get better. You will figure out the answers. This life stuff does get easier. What choice did I have but to believe? And I found that by simply choosing to believe, I felt better and worked harder. It's totally self-fulfilling. 

It is a very wonderful world, isn't it reader? There is so much to see and admire, so much to laugh at and wonder over. I'm thinking right now of the story a very dear friend related to me about Wen, the Eternally Surprised. 

 “Wen considered the nature of time and understood that the universe is, instant by instant, re-created anew. Therefore, he understood, there is, in truth, no Past, only a memory of the Past. Blink your eyes, and the world you see next did not exist when you closed them. Therefore, he said, the only appropriate state of the mind is surprise. The only appropriate state of the heart is joy. The sky you see now, you have never seen before. The perfect moment is now. Be glad of it.” - Terry Pratchett, in Thief of Time. 

Words to live by. 

I'm cold today reader, and I can't seem to warm up. I'm sitting with a heater on my side and feeling a little like Two-face. One side of my face is hot and my skin is reddening, while the other is numb. I switch the heater from side to side, every half hour, and I suppose I should be grateful that half of me is warm.
The winter has been long this year. There were foggy days when I couldn't see more than ten feet ahead, and cold nights when only conversation kept me warm.
I'm so tired of winter. I wish spring would come. 

Caramelly

Today's been a long day. I'm tired but I can't seem to fall asleep just yet, so I thought I would write to you. I tried for a while but for the life of me, I couldn't think of anything cheerful to say. So instead, I went through my old drafts and dug this out. I wrote the piece below sometime in November last year, I think, but never posted it, I'm not quite sure why. Still, better late than never.

Today, I feel... caramelly. You know, like a pot of boiling caramel. The surface of it is still, with just a lazy bubble here and there, that swells slowly and bursts in slow motion and then you smell butter and sugar. But there's so much going on below, and if a chance spatter catches your arm, it stings godawfully.
I boiled and stirred, poured, chilled and cut, and quickly fell into a rhythm. These little suckers are addictive, especially if like me, you enjoy the feeling of your teeth gummed together, even down to that moment of panic when you wonder if they'll ever get unstuck. Of course, eventually they do, and the caramel is gone, just leaving a faint memory of butter. And then you have to do it all over again, because it can't have been as good as you remember, can it? Can it?

It's just me and the dog tonight. Salad for dinner. A tangle of greens enlivened with roasted peanuts and bright, pucker-inducing lime juice.
The dog prefers bread and milk. What does he know.

Goodness, reader. I just re-read that last post and realised, I'm getting awfully dramatic, aren't I? I must check the tendency. I thought up that outrunning my demons line as I ran and it cheered me up to no end.

Another thing that's been cheering me up lately is this pot of pansies, next to the main gate of the colony. I pass them every evening on my walk/run. They're big. The biggest pansies I've ever seen, coloured a brash yellow with deep purple hearts. And there are more of them every day. 

Today, I loaded two albums of Sara Bareilles' onto my iPod, pulled on my running shoes, and called for a very very excited dog. The shadows were lengthening when we set out, and the evening was chilly and lonesome. Because I run with a very distracted dog, I usually run in fits and spurts. We set off in a mad churn of legs and paws and then suddenly grind to a halt when Panda smells something interesting. It works for us.
Today though, I was impatient with his stops and leisurely sniffings. I dragged him along grimly till he finally caught on and matched me, bound for stride.
We ran round and round in mile-long circles, as dusk turned into night and the streetlamps came on. And I learned that if you run fast enough, you can outrun your demons, for a little while.