Marsha Maung: I write. I love. I live

As the journey starts taking us into forked roads unknown, I find myself being more and more thankful at the end of every day. No, this is not some Zen-woo-woo or philosophical fanfic. It's a feeling that sweeps over me at the end of every day as I sit on the balcony looking out at the evening sky and the encapsulating horizon wondering how I/We have made it through and isn't it amazing that we're still here. I sometimes think that if we employ the curiosity of a 3-year-old kid who is not afraid of that dastardly pot of boiling hot water, we could be living a more entertaining and fulfilling life. It might have a tad to do with the shocking deaths that have been occurring over the last few years, come to think about it because the heart-stopping moments have forced me to face death and see it for what it is. People say it all the time that we will all die, one way or the other. Even when you don't know when it's going to happen, you just prefer not to think ...

Dude. Breathe . - Credit:  Kyndall Ramirez on UnSplash People who know me knows that there are not a lot of things I would complain about...well, maybe a few whines here and there but nothing serious....but if there's one thing I would really, really take issue with, it would be having to sit in traffic. Put me behind the wheel in a gridlock and it turns me from the most patient Saint (not that I am) into a road rage monster. #lol The polarity is startling even to me. And I don't know why. There's the feeling of being trapped, of not being able to do anything about it (I've considered dumping the car and walking the rest of the way but...LOL..,the rationale side of me won, thankfully), of feeling like I have better use for my time, feeling like the rest of the world is made up of aszh@le drivers who make no bones about cutting into the lane that I've been sitting in for the past 45 minutes, of having to pay expensive Malaysian tolls that are SENSELESS, of...

Slowly moving on is quite a feat.  I think I am suffering from a late onset of separation anxiety. I miss home-cooked food. I miss calling out my kids' names and screaming them out on the third try only to hear their exasperated replies a little later. I miss picking up a book out of nowhere and reading it to get my mind off work. I miss the small 20-minute breaks. I miss meditating in my room. I miss working around in the small little kitchen I now call home. I miss hugging my boys whenever I want.  Also, I have to get used to blogging and writing from my phone for now. In time, I'll explain what is going on in my life but for now, let's just say things are changing and I am trying my utmost best to get used to it.  But I am trying and that's all the Universe can ask from me, right? For lack of a proper update, here's something I would like to share with anyone who even reads anything I write. #lol Sending lots of love your way, Marsha ...