Rue.

Rue, for the beginning has yet to end, as the end has yet to begin. Kaleidoscopic senses perceive the end of a four month tattered sojourn into oblivion. Boy, its gonna feel good to go back to university tomorrow.

There is nothing remotely deep or philosophical about this post, it has no relation to politics or world issues. I just feel like these last four months deserve some kind of flourish before it is cast into the depths of forgotten memory banks.

What's there to say? I don't want to delve into anything overly personal; those of you who read this and know me well enough will be well versed in the mirth I've bathed in this Australian summer. Yet I'm compelled to keep writing, maybe for the sake of writing, or maybe for the love of it. Sometimes it's impossible to tell, as we all come to learn at an eventual stage.

Unpredictable like the weather, varied like the smiles on the faces of people we meet, the conscience clears like a sunny Friday morning, only to descend into the nebulous vulgarity of Saturday. Many things learned and unlearned, friends made and broken only to find ourselves here again, slowing for the approach on Monday, gingerly treading on shards of shattered glass to the beat of a good tune.

I'm mixed about these four months. Granted they've been horrible, granted they've cut like a razor blade but the people I've spent it with and the times we shared, with a little digression into cliched emotion, have been pretty darn swell. Endless hours sitting drinking teh tarik, talking about everything or nothing, enveloped in the still silence of a chess game or raucous as a Playstation 3 (that's right, your eyes do not deceive) stirred to life by Winning Eleven, my hair indicates that I've grown, for better or for worse.

It's not fair that so much had to happen in a ridiculously short span of time, others included, before we've even hit 20. It's not fair that all these feelings had to be spilled on the floor like the panic of an ambulance before we've had a chance to graduate. Either the circles of sadness are closing in around us, or the world is turning into a cruel, dead place, but like a great friend of mine said, "We can be a great success, or a great failure. Either way, its greatness."
And damn straight it is.

So what does all this mean? Where have we walked to, where have these words led us? Hell if I know, if i knew there would be no need for me to write in riddles and I would have slept well many weeks ago. Here's me saying that I've learned from this time out, however I wish we could all go back to the start. But sometimes being the dreamer is myopic, sometimes hope is Life in denial; yet we have never been dulled by such before. Whatever that all may eventually mean, Time, the bastard procrastinator that he is, will speak his peace one day and we'll be around to curse or luck our whoop with joy.

So here's to The Beautiful Side of Somewhere, a great song and a great line. Hopefully, as we perpetually seem to do, something brighter will light up the sky, some new mistake will unearth itself, or something old and faded will be injected with vigour again. Something to make us sing out loud, skip the cracks in the street and smile at the faces that smile back, if not on our own then with those around us. It will take ages, for the road has yet been weathered, but my shoes are strapped on with the blithe of youth on my side.

When all this is over, when all this is dusted and when I remember the beautiful things I've forgotten, I shall buy all you awesome people lunch. I cannot heave my heart into my mouth and express all these feelings, so I'll let someone else do it for me, something I found in someone else's note but which I thought to be extremely apt.

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe Me."
Look what happens with
A love like that,
It lights the Whole Sky.

- Hafiz, from The Gift