I hope to be a millionaire.
The only buy on my mind would be a place of residency...with lots of furniture.
I owe my friends plenty of gifts, a few unpaid bets and meals to appreciate family by.
Of course 10% would go to the church.
And perhaps I could even save a little bit, keep it for a rainy day.
Hopefully I do not devour the million that comes my way stupidly, but invest and spend it healthily, on matters that matter. Seeds that grow. Rods that fish. Love that loves.

I'd like to believe I could spend it wisely.

Let me be a millionaire, I like to prove it to you.

The perfect maze.Yesterday. Because.

Perfect in the sense that getting lost would have been pleasurable. Perfect because somehow finding the way out would not have been as beneficial as discovering what a world of authors chose to write about. This was the secondhand (I prefer the term: 'preloved') bookstore with the deceptively cramp front.

I had already visited my favorite jewelry boutique, spending about 16minutes on wishful thinking and a minute more on bittersweet wondering. The longer I spent there the hungrier my eyes became and the emptier my fingers appeared so it was seemingly time to move on. I had a few more moments to dawdle away and decided that this little bookshop around the corner next to the pizza shop could keep me occupied that little while longer.

-Enters I-

I walked straight towards the shelf of compiled "art" coffee table books and the like, where I had bought an intriguing account of Peter Max's (love him) colourful works for $30 in first year. I found a few more at the $30 mark, deciding I could not afford to splurge at a time like this &that today my absolute cap on spending would be $25. Nothing on that shelf struck me as worth the large amount within the four or six minutes I spent scanning and flicking through random pickings.

I proceeded to the neighbouring subdivision at the foot of the narrow staircase, on whose wall requested that all bags be left at the counter. Reluctance to leave my belongings with strangers was due to trust issues (seeded by my father, concerning this dark intending world); I did, however, soon remind myself that only characters of relative worth would be granted work in such a treasure trove! So I hello-ed the stranger behind the counter and left my belongings with him as I walked up the stairs into divided chambers.

Something happens when you're surrounded by books, especially when the books are pre-loved orphans waiting to be chosen, wanting to be loved. I found myself quickly wishing I could somehow absorb every book in each chamber, just by running my fingers over their spines even if it took me hours.

Because in here, even the dust was rich. Because the finest of people (defined simply by their desire and effort to share something wonderful) sifted their thoughts and refined their recollections to present us (the rest of the world) with something of value; another interpretation of life- beautiful and unglorious alike! Because it is important to let people know things. Because our world seeks to be expanded; territory, covered and appropriate knowledge known so that the best of decisions can be made in life.

Because somehow life is a strict yes and no, black and white and somewhere in this library of forlorn writings was the answer to mine and I needed to know it. I knew that somehow if I were to put everybody together, everything would make sense. Because everybody holds a different piece of my puzzle, and books are little pieces of people, so it made perfect sense that if I collected expressions of different pieces from every person...I would finally understand.

But I could not afford every book in the world written by every person, I couldn't even afford a few hundred books in one of these chambers let alone the entire shop, let alone the entire world of books!

I returned to my belongings and thanked the stranger behind the counter. I gave him $17.50 and a smile. He gave me four books, one paper bag and returned the smile.

-Exit I with the friend I entered the maze to wait for-

michief had overridden

Aha! What has she done now? And why is she so thrilled with her complication? Be watchful, you have managed to evade fatalities until now...& now you're just asking for it!

My former self is in strife over my recent decisions. I couldn't be more amused!

grow up mischievous child.
It seems my rebellion kicked in a little later than the average teen.
Either that or curiousity never had me,
not like this,
until now.

Dance, don't leave me!
I loved you once, and I never got over you...
A few years later and I think I'm better off with you.

The businessman hated lunchtimes.

He stood on the busy corner with his body language confused. Hand on hip, the other in pocket alongside tall posture were contradicted by his lowered face and blank stares at the asphalt. In his pocket was a rich wallet possessing a wad of cash, seeking somebody to spoil. In the other hand, he held loosely onto a piece of cardboard.

It begged "company?"

As I approached the corner I heard the very voices I was rounding the corner to meet in conversation and smiled. I straightened my wear before entering and just before stepping heard your unusually shy inquiry, "I don't know anymore." "Don't know what?" "Don't know who she is anymore".
I smirked, because I was about to ask you if you knew, but from what I heard you didn't, so I didn't ask.
I sighed a curious sigh, and breathed an anticipating breath, then continued lightly across the corridor of unopened doors wondering which others might help me discover who I now was.

I wanted to buy cigarettes.

Today, I had a strange curiosity invade me. & as a result I wanted to buy a pack of cigarettes. The first thing to mind was "which?". Apparently deciding which brand of cigarettes is as easy as choosing flavours in an icecreamery. I didn't buy a packet. I wouldn't know what to do with it. Smoke it? Perhaps. Then I began to think. (Brace yourselves, she's thinking)

I have discovered I am owner to a small rebellion. Subtle and often quiet, but rebellious regardless. It is not entirely bad, I justify my keeping it as a challenge to the beliefs I have, knocking, testing and ultimately edifying what I believe, making me wonder: why.

Anyway, the thought occurred to me. What if, by some bizarre spontaneity, I decided I was going to smoke a cigarette and walk pass a cluster of grade-schoolers... from my church? What then? And Why?

Why are cigarettes looked upon so disdainfully by people like me?
Addiction, yes? But if it were my second (I would probably have practiced smoking at least once before a public display, to get the rhythm right and downpat) and there was no addiction, I smoked it purely out of curiosity and dare I say enjoyment. Then where is the sin in that? I am no more addicted than she with her king-size chocolate bar or he who drinks only coke. Take your pick, burn your lungs very so gradually or clog your arteries. Both just as glorious! So if I was not addicted (yet, yes I am aware of the yet) then it is simply an addition to the fabolous list of "all things are permissible, not all are benefitial".

Thus ends my hate of the cigarette. Some are addicted and I wished they weren't. Some do it illegally, of which I am unimpressed. Some do, just because they can and that is completely fine with me. If you saw me smoking my second cigarette, would it make you second guess my character? Would you think less of me? Would cigarettes lower my capability to love? So then what?

I still have never smoked a cigarette in my life but I will no longer say that I never will.
I don't hate them anymore. End.

something surface, nothing more.

i'm becoming quite fond of him
i know him little
he knows me a little more
he is charming, clever
almost disarming
but these qualities are surface
and i fear that is all i have time for

because we are too apart
too convinced of our own lifestyles
and this will probably come to nothing
(i've never bothered writing these musings before and ive always denied such but for some reason i'd like to be free of my denials just for now)

as apparently useless as it is, indulgence in imagination
(though full of folly and thankfully temporary)
helps to pass the time while waiting for things to make sense

it seems
i've never fallen in love
but have been falling in like since ever.

makes me curious...

All aboard! This train's leaving Comfort Zone!

My life is about to change.

Suddenly saddened, I pack my past of lazy days and ample leisure, as I wade anxiously into a new job. Three days ago I never expected things to happen so fast. Now I half reluctantly preparing myself to be expected to work 4-5 shifts a week on top of uni and ministries, my growing friendships and a relationship with God (perhaps even this dream of mentoring amazing girls). Suddenly I'm biting my lip constantly, with anticipation at how everything will fit and how on earth I'm to learn purposeful and time efficient days from... an ad hock riddled life. Will this put your/my priorities into perspective or throw them off? Will I come out stronger, more mature, more capable...or the contrary?

Oh, let me not forget to thank you for this opportunity, God. I needed this jolt back into urgency and I know that you give peace so I need not worry about deteriorating into a nervous wreck. But this is change, and a costly change at that, the type that costs your/my most precious resource, time. Change is daunting but change is needed. Just please, don't let me neglect everything you've taught me. Let me be the one doing the influencing those around me, even if the odds are 10 to 1. Let me be the light here. Let us go together.

Thank you that Blake, Kim and Helen are so easy to get along with. Thank you that John is considerate and the chef's are kind. God, unto you. Unto you.

Hello Groove Train. Hello.
As long as I'm there, you'll get to know my God.

There were two.

Both were still on the long gruelling road to recovery and discovery of what God had in store (if indeed He still had a plan for them). Both were broken, but in different places; hurt, but in different ways. Both in need of great amounts of love to smooth over the cracks laid deep in them. Both still trying, with all they knew, to be good. Both still undeniably beautiful.

Yet another who was apart of both and quite unharmed chose not to love them the way love would have it. In fact, this other could hardly consider her relationship with both, a friendship, as she looked dutifully upon these ties as obligations. The other's impatient sighs went often unnoticed, but her heart, her heart was cold; it was biased and knew all too well how to love conditionally.

This other was, yesterday, humbled and given light reprimand. But the weight of her humiliation lay in the reveal that she had been a counter-productively poor representation of a loving God. And was sorry. She was learning how to love, through idiot mistakes and hoped her failings would never be at the expense of those who couldn't afford it.

i
am
so
sorry.
God you are gracious.
There were two.
I love you both.
Then,
there were three.

I love that love loves through this muck, mess and leeking darkness.

O God.
.. .God.
.. .God.
czz.........You are beautiful regardless. Thank you, lovely.

I know you.

A few things I'd like you to know that I know.

I know that today wasn't fantastic.
I know that you tried to look on the bright side, but it faded.
I know that for at least 8 minutes today you just wanted someone to counter your sighs.
I know that you brushed the thought that perhaps if your responsibilities didn't weigh so, you'd feel lighter.
I know that as you pulled out your wallet you overrode sensibility to keep that little bit in your wallet for a little longer.

I know, I felt the same.

I know, though, that you're worth much more than all you know.
& glad am I for you, because knowing you adds to the worth of my little day.

Lastly, I know that we should better tomorrow.
I know.
ps: I bought a dress today...I nearly bought three.

Dress me subtly.

I like dresses. I pass a fair few I "admire", because they hold character and dimension in colour, diversity, pattern and shape. I can afford few and have even fewer.

If I were to be in posession of many dresses, if I were to wear them often, I would be out of character. Because the me that my closest circle know is not the girl in dresses but the girl alternative. It's ironic how the closer you become to people, the more permanent you become, the harder it is to change simply because by changing, you arouse question and critique. It's funnier still how those who know you shallowly couldn't care less how you changed and would still see you simply as the girl known not so closely.

There. I like dresses.
I don't want to be a pretty girl predictable. I want just to be.
Looks like this like will have to be a subtle graduation, if any at all.

(c)opyright. Janitor.

She befriended the janitor of the tallest building
Gave him smiles and conversation indefinitely
And in exchange he cut her a key to the rooftop of the tallest building in the city.