Muse

I always liked writing...doodling, scratching notes, journalling, penning poetry and writing stories. In the same sense, reading was my passion...I even found a weird sense of joy and satisfaction reading the 'dictionary'.

When I passed my Common Entrance Exams to go to high school (GHS), my mother proudly bought me my first Oxford Dictionary...to this day few people would truly understand how much that gift meant to me. Peers got new bicycles, clothes, trips abroad, lots of different fancy things...I got my dictionary, a treasure.

I had that dictionary for over 20 years. It saw me through high school, my first venture into the classroom as an Assistant English Language Teacher in France, was my steady companion throughout university, sat proudly on my desk when I worked as an Assistant Language Teacher in Northern Japan and was my first spelling resource, my trusted confidante as I navigated the waters of the British English I learnt in school and the North American English that eventually became a part of my life. Sadly, there came a time when we had to part ways, with more sorrow on my part than necessary, I must confess.

When I was younger, I dreamed of becoming a writer. The words would just flow and sometimes my fingers rushed to keep out with the words and thoughts that came tumbling forth. This was my muse, in such moments as I immersed myself in the words and abstract thoughts dancing around...I found my true self.

I am no longer that young person. I am much older now...many things have changed. I have grown and matured...but that love, although a bit more hidden than it once was, still lurks below the surface, bubbling, just waiting for that pin prick to loosen the brook. It is more restrained, and I am trying to tease it out...