Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

So, I turned 31. Year after year, I've written on my blog on my birthday. This year I felt lazy to, but as I went back and read my old posts, I realise I've changed a lot each time. Maybe it's only fair that I track my progress or vice versa here. There are some things 31 has taught me that 28 didn't: 1. Life is really short and the years go by quickly, so it's wiser to count them. 2. I wasted a lot of my time by being practical and responsible, thinking from the head. No use. Now, I've decided I'm going to be reckless again. 3. Quitting your job can be difficult, but nothing beats the thrill of it if you don't really like what you're doing anymore. Forget being best friends with your co-workers or the attachment/nostalgia you feel for a place. 4. Do nothing for 2 months. Absolutely nothing. Don't join a dance class, don't party, don't find another job. You'll feel your youth returning as you idle your hours away, just like you did du

'Are you happy?' you ask me, I question your meaning of happiness. I'd rather be calm, like the soft sea breeze on a May afternoon. Gently touching your skin, with the passion of far away lands. Occasionally, I could be languid, the dry air in a parched village where nothing living grows. where no one speaks, where no one knows. And on my blue days, I could carry drops of wet rain across green paddy fields, be the relief on the farmer's face as he lifts it to the dark sky. I can be the storm, the sudden chaos in a whirling wind, that seeks to avenge and destroy. Paper, dust, rattling in a dance. Hitting your eyes, slashing your face. Or the scented draught that carries the smells of cooking onto the street. Warm noses looking out for where I begin or end. Eager tongues tingling in torrid desire for someone else's feast. I can be happy if you want me to, if that's what you would like me to say. My nature is to change. My nature is not mine at all. I exist for you