I said once how I would write stuff to commemorate and share my wonderful trip to Thailand. And here we are, only 1 post about the temples produced. Sometimes I think my brain is similar with that of a 3-yo. Uuwwww, bubble wraps! Oh my, fake plastic Patrick!! HOLY SHIT, SPONGEBOB IS ON!!!
That went in the span of 5 seconds.
But lets look at the broader time frame and geographical movement now. I am back in Rotterdam, ja ik ben terug, unfortunately. Summer was immensely incredible, the best one I've ever had. It was an opportunity(/tragedy) to become a jell-o for 2 whole wonderful months.
At the end of Summer, that life was the only life I know. The only reason for my daily existence being waking up noontime, going to my parents' office to (sometimes) help out and (mostly) read books, lunch at mouth-watering restaurants, sit in the traffic all the way home, dinner without having to move a muscle preparing it, lounging at lil bro's with big sis and nightime sleep tucked in my ever fluffy bedsheet.
Life as a jell-o was a good one to say the least. It's like you want to wriggle right, left, right, and left again now to do the victory dance. Oh yeah. Party, jell-o style. *Jell-o 90s party themesong at the back*
So that I think explains in a pretty musical way why I feel pretty sad to be back here once more.
Although I have to admit I like being back in school, to actually make use of my ever diminishing brain cells. I've got my hands full with extra courses this block, so I am on my knees wishing that my jell-o days would solidify. Anytime soon now, I hope. It's also nice to see some freaks I havent met for 2 months. I forgot just how retarded they are.
And me alike. My thighs do not appreciate being back biking. I used to bike all the way to school for 30 minutes. Now, 10 minutes and I am panting like a fat kid in gym class who just recently declared chips as the only food worthy to eat. Good for your self satisfaction, not so on having to run the never ending track. Sometimes in moments of revelation I can listen to my thighs telling me one more pedal-ing and I swear I will make you so miserable in the morning that you'll be sorry you've ever been born. I'm scared if those kind of honest conversation will come true.
I began this post by comparing my brain with that of a 3-yo. And like that cuddly toddler, I am missing my parents because when I look up and out of the room, they're not there. They are far, far away. When it's bad, it feels like someone grabbed and squeezed my stomach. It feels uncomfortable, it makes you anxious and panicky. And the worst of all, it makes you feel like there's nothing you can do about it.
And sometimes you wish that if you wish hard enough, you can come out of your room into the next room to just no nothing but make fun of each other with your siblings. Or down for a chit-chat with your parents.
But the shortness of time, of being with them for no other agenda but to just be with them, makes you feel how special every moment is. It even makes you grateful of being back here again, to acknowledge with the every flutter of your eyelashes the preciousness of a family. It's far from perfect, but its every imperfections are what made me long for the next time I board that God-awful long-haul flight straight to a jell-o period.
I boarded my flight home at the beginning of the Summer with the hope of finding a new perspective. And now nearing the end of Summer, I think I have it. Sometimes you just need to look at something in a different light to see how beautiful it is. And how happy you are to be able to change the bulbs to see that wonder.
You are in my thoughts: pa, ma, ca and Manggis.
*90s Jell-o party soundtrack playing*
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