Transitions

I have been beseiged by a flu and cough and it ain't nice sitting around feeling shite, and doing nothing.

What makes it worse is I have only myself to blame for the lack of self-control and hedonism I have recently indulged in... my body is hating me.

So two weeks have passed since I have finished my dissertation and you'd think I'd be writing more. But there is this incredible inertia arising from nowhere and the wheels of my brain are rotating rustily, in order to find some clarity among the chaos, some direction among the dark.

If there's one thing I've learnt, it's keeping transitions short and sweet. How many times I have prolonged the interim period in hope of finding exciting things to do, prolonging goodbyes and postponing the inevitable; at the end, the memories of the past and the anticipation of the future only serves to fill you with a gaping hole. That's right, filling you with a hole.

I woke up this morning to the soft hum of the fan, smell of the bed... and the phelgm in my throat. Somewhere at the back of my mind, it reminded me of home. The fan, the humid air, the white walls... the future. I cannot articulate the exact emotion but I was metaphorically standing right in the middle of that hole wondering what to do with myself. Don't get me wrong, it's been a blast catching up with mates, being a lady of leisure, partying for 24 hours in a row... but it's the in-between that scares me – especially when I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling thinking of the move and what it entails.

I hate waiting for J to finish with work - I wish he could finish right now and we can move on and bang out all the errands/visits/last-minute plans we have to do and just get on that bloody plane.