Tuesday, August 15, 2006

These boots were made for walking...

No, I am NOT a big fan of Jessica Simpson. No, wait, I will rephrase that. I am NOT a fan of Jessica Simpson. Besides, she was not the first person to record that song and my vote goes to the original version. Contrary to the song's motive for walking boots (walking all over the source of injured pride), my boots (and I have quite a few) are making their way over seas and continents back from whence I came; Malaysia. That's right folks. After 5 years in London, I am making my way back home come October. I have lived in London for longer than some Londoners have, although then they wouldn't call themselves Londoners would they? I don't think the time has come for me to start summing up what my experience has been like and I believe enough has been said through the years on my blog. Every year has brought on new challenges and new friendships, it's own share of burdens and joys, but then again, that does not make my life any different from Tom, Dick or Harry or Joe. For the moment, I've got books to read, errands to run and a wedding to attend. As I contemplate going home, part of me doesn't want to. I have settled here (oh no!) and feel more alive and unrestrained than I did in Malaysia, which led to teenage rebellion and a lot of angst-ridden brooding sessions in my room, which had black, paper bats - the flying rodent kind, although that said, bats are not rodents - hanging from the ceiling. Going home, I might have to bring my stubborn streak of individuality under control again and will have to constantly remember that the older generations in Asian communities demand respect and almost reverance and the lack of it thereof will bring about angry outbursts of blame, hurt and tension. I'll have to adjust to a different church, a different community and a different lifestyle. To make matters slightly more interesting yet exciting, I'll be living in KL, the capital, which I've never lived in before. The slang used is different, the food will be different and the pollution levels.... oh well... maybe I could have a greenhouse on the balcony. Part of me however, feels that the time is right to move, if I ever want to move. I suppose it just depends which side pulls harder; the part that wants to make a nice little hovel in the ground in which I can lay my derriere or the twitchy side that wants to run and never get caught.

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