'A Little Wonderlust'
I just wanted to shed the spotlight on my good friend Suanlee's blog called A Little Wonderlust. (The 'wanderlust' blog name was unfortunately taken already so no, she didn't spell it wrong.) She takes fabulous photos (and so does her photographer boyfriend, what a great pair!) She also writes really well. Her blog features many of her wonderful photographs and thoughts on just about everything.
As an aspiring photojournalist, I'm also trying to master the power of words and so far, this blog has only been about photography! This changes now! (:
Here is one piece she wrote that really moved me. It's called 'Visions'. I think it captures so well the desires you get when the overwhelming forces of love and acceptance consume you.
"You want to be with them. Travel with them. You want to see their photo on their passport, all of the stamps and places they've been. You want to have the same stamps. You want to see what they're like on planes, in different countries, going through airport security and in the waiting lounge. You want to meet their family and charm them. Join them in the kitchen and help make a dinner during New Years. You want to nestle yourself in their childhood memories, look at their drawings and finger paintings, the posters they used to have on their walls. You want to see all of the embarrassing photos of them with bibs and shoes and mismatching clothes.
You want to hear all their drunken stories, their misadventures and their worst jokes. You want to work with them, just to see them working. You want to chase the night with them and jump on odd steps. You want to make out with them in your bathroom after they've followed you in. You want to ruffle their hair. You always want to touch them; you want them to always want to touch you.
You stay up past your bedtime for them. Even when you're half asleep you'd talk until sleep pulled you away. You look at the calandar and the clock and you know what they're doing and what they have to do. You neglect other people and things, beat yourself up about it because you feel bad. You leave them for your friends and you feel the same. But it's like they have a hold of your hands and your voice and you let yourself come back to them. You don't mind.
You like things about them, their appearance the rest of the world may cringe at or call strange. Their little teeth or the gaps in between them; the way they scratch their head, their narrow hips, wide shoulders and the depth of their pores. You laugh when funny things happen whilst laying in bed. Or when one falls out because your bed is too small for the both of you. When you're out of breath because they've spent the last ten minutes tickling you. You usually want to just lay in bed with them.
You think they're better, more intelligent, happier, more productive and worthy than you are. You try to be as much as they are and as good as they are. You try to figure out what it is that they're going to teach you while you're with them, If you're going to play a part for them that you never thought you'd play before. You try to interpret everything they say, pull patterns of meaning from the conversations you have, or just the way they looked at you the first time you met; what they did, what they had to offer. Letters, paper, burnt biscuits, pieces of bark, clay and sticky tape.
You cherish them, paste them in your memories like faded scrapbooks clutched to chests for generations. They star in the little short films of your life, black and white with coloured balloons. You can imagine being in a film, the walk to the end of the street for a dinner on a quiet corner. The feel of the sun bearing down on you both as you spray the windows on their car. The loudness of the music at a concert. The way they ordered drinks on your first date. The slow swings on a swing set. The back seat of their car, and the lights and fireworks.
You can see yourself with them in the future you can't quite yet see. You build apartments and homes in your mind, fitted with the right kitchen supplies and bathroom towels. The bed with the two night lamps for reading and the dressers piled with the right books and magazines. You wait for them while they chase their dreams, encourage them and pull them up; they wait patiently as you chase yours. You sit in bed eating take away late at night, drinking tea and you tell each other all about your day. You create adopted dogs and cats; pets you really want to have but can't have just yet. You have awkward conversations, about money and past relationships. You put up with each other's crap.
You see what they would look like standing at the end of an aisle and wonder if you'll have all the things you planned and wished for, if you'll make it to the end to meet them or if they'll end up in the scrapbook you've clutched to your chest or an old photograph laying on your bedroom floor. You are the wild youth, chasing visions of your futures hoping, longing, and waiting. You can't imagine anything else."
Here is one piece she wrote that really moved me. It's called 'Visions'. I think it captures so well the desires you get when the overwhelming forces of love and acceptance consume you.
You want to hear all their drunken stories, their misadventures and their worst jokes. You want to work with them, just to see them working. You want to chase the night with them and jump on odd steps. You want to make out with them in your bathroom after they've followed you in. You want to ruffle their hair. You always want to touch them; you want them to always want to touch you.
You stay up past your bedtime for them. Even when you're half asleep you'd talk until sleep pulled you away. You look at the calandar and the clock and you know what they're doing and what they have to do. You neglect other people and things, beat yourself up about it because you feel bad. You leave them for your friends and you feel the same. But it's like they have a hold of your hands and your voice and you let yourself come back to them. You don't mind.
You like things about them, their appearance the rest of the world may cringe at or call strange. Their little teeth or the gaps in between them; the way they scratch their head, their narrow hips, wide shoulders and the depth of their pores. You laugh when funny things happen whilst laying in bed. Or when one falls out because your bed is too small for the both of you. When you're out of breath because they've spent the last ten minutes tickling you. You usually want to just lay in bed with them.
You think they're better, more intelligent, happier, more productive and worthy than you are. You try to be as much as they are and as good as they are. You try to figure out what it is that they're going to teach you while you're with them, If you're going to play a part for them that you never thought you'd play before. You try to interpret everything they say, pull patterns of meaning from the conversations you have, or just the way they looked at you the first time you met; what they did, what they had to offer. Letters, paper, burnt biscuits, pieces of bark, clay and sticky tape.
You cherish them, paste them in your memories like faded scrapbooks clutched to chests for generations. They star in the little short films of your life, black and white with coloured balloons. You can imagine being in a film, the walk to the end of the street for a dinner on a quiet corner. The feel of the sun bearing down on you both as you spray the windows on their car. The loudness of the music at a concert. The way they ordered drinks on your first date. The slow swings on a swing set. The back seat of their car, and the lights and fireworks.
You can see yourself with them in the future you can't quite yet see. You build apartments and homes in your mind, fitted with the right kitchen supplies and bathroom towels. The bed with the two night lamps for reading and the dressers piled with the right books and magazines. You wait for them while they chase their dreams, encourage them and pull them up; they wait patiently as you chase yours. You sit in bed eating take away late at night, drinking tea and you tell each other all about your day. You create adopted dogs and cats; pets you really want to have but can't have just yet. You have awkward conversations, about money and past relationships. You put up with each other's crap.
You see what they would look like standing at the end of an aisle and wonder if you'll have all the things you planned and wished for, if you'll make it to the end to meet them or if they'll end up in the scrapbook you've clutched to your chest or an old photograph laying on your bedroom floor. You are the wild youth, chasing visions of your futures hoping, longing, and waiting. You can't imagine anything else."
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