before we leave 2014!

I love Lego!

In order

1.


2.


3.


Christmas produces way too much clutter. But the spirit of praying, of being good, of being kind is still there, in earnest.

unwrapped

it's a very commercialised Christmas in these shores. the hubby dug deep in the gifts provisions. of course, it's not like it's a new car. we both lack the license to drive and I would need high-powered contact lenses, as I'm hindered by my poor eyesight. but presents are presents and they would rock (!), as I expect them to be, let's wait for Christmas Day. the ones with his family are done. was I disappointed with the scarf? the thing is I'm that important, my sweet little daughter is the key to happiness. and she's quite prudent in her dealings with wrappings. let's see, pink dress? yes, please.

wrapped in blues

I felt so down while I was occupied with wrapping presents and signing cards the past few days. I didn't know whether it was because of the cold or the season just pulls me down due to too much commerce. Until now I have no cards to display in the allotted slot. Maybe the pseudo smiles in the corridor are enough to lift the gloom. Who knows, days pass us by without us noticing. I've hosted a get together where everybody knows everybody, which is fun.

I've discovered crochet. I've yet to polish my baking and cooking techniques. I don't cook that much yet but it's damn good amazing to consume what one has prepared. I read the papers daily. I've observed cultures and behaviours. I view social media with a bit of derision. Mostly, I just want my toddler to go to bed early.

the toddler phase

Now that it's December, the prams are upon us. Too many prams in the shopping centre just today at midday, as I was in a rush to procure presents for kids in my circle.

On Friday, (minus the pram), I brought my toddler to the centre, hoping she would behave. We were made to vanish while her dad was dusting and hoovering. It was a nightmare, my sweet two year old couldn't yet comprehend the concept of "no touch, no screams, just look." This phase of "lying on the floor" in protest when she doesn't get what she wants is not amusing. Nor is her screaming non-stop. For the screeching noise, I got dagger looks in the bus.

Children grow up as DR (who's DR?) pointed out to me in September (childcare issues, wth?). But this page and the paragraph above is for keeps, as next time next year she'll be more prudent and won't just choose all the pink dresses in her wardrobe.

nobody will read that.....

I love the world of reading. And writing. Yesterday, I heard a comment in the middle of work elucidating that nobody reads blogs. In this ever changing, improving world where certain media is obsolete, where we have choices, whether we prefer print or the internet, I say to the commenter, you're not only archaic, you yourself is obsolete. I no longer buy newspapers when certain ones are being distributed for free. Likewise, what's the point in parting with the pennies to gain access to a media paywall? There are other outlets that provide insights and analysis without the hassle of handing over cash. There are also better views and news in blogs than most media outlets.

Sometimes after daily encounters with some really chosen people, perspective is easy to absorb. Those of who have never been exposed to poverty and hardships, been spoiled and selfish all their lives and feel that the world owe them special favours and privileges need to really look into their inner self and travel to third world countries and see the machinery of a government that don't care about its people. Trying to gain understanding about those who have so much less in life in countries we sometimes deny their existence will make us better persons.

But people are most of the times ingrained and embedded in their beliefs. If they think they should be the first and foremost in the competition of life, so be it, go write and read in your paper.

trifle

thanks to Pappy. 💜

wants vs. being far away

What I really want to do is watch T'yanak in Bacolod. I miss going to the movies in general though. It has been years.

old movies, ok.

I couldn't find any shows on the telly to watch regularly unless you count endless repeats of Micky Mouse Clubhouse and Peppa Pig as mainstream tv. I know there are loads out there. I missed an entire season of The Great British Bake Off due to lack of time, energy and I'd rather sleep. I still feel I need more sleep especially in this weather.

But after 1900 hours or during those quiet downtime before bed, I've come across viewings of a few Pinoy classics (as I define the word) -- Working Girls (Bernal, 1984), 14 Going Steady (Gosiengfiao, 1984), Friends in Love (Garcia, 1983). All three films I've seen in real time. I was eight when Sharon, Rowell, William, Jackie showed the world the gorgeous and fascinating lives of young people to the manor born. In the movie they clearly have manners. They have nice clothes. They go to the school for the rich.

Just recently I've decided to relive the all too eloquent speech of Sandy (Sharon, again) to her parents in Forgive and Forget (Garcia, 1982). Or actually I just want to see Nida Blanca and Nestor De Villa dance that routine at the end. I mean, Wow! The stars of a bygone era were just simply marvelous. They could cry copious tears in dramatic moments and dance and sing like magic in the finale.

fever, colds ...

It's such a puzzle for me, the way I embrace exhaustion with such flourish. Wouldn't it be nice to be relaxed and pampered once in a while? When you have a toddler and it's just you and the husband taking turns running after her, soothe those screams .... it's a delicate situation.

What about child minders? I'm not a sociable person so a paid person is not conducive to my personality while my friends are all busy working.

Whilst members of family on both sides are not based in London.

So it's only mummy and daddy for my tiny tot and the two days tweety bird spends at nursery. The three of us are managing as long as we don't develop a cold and get confined to bed.

As it happened a few days ago, my sweetie was so hot for three straight nights. She has never been that sick so far. If only she was not refusing sponge bath, the brat. But eventually, after much worrying on my part, she gained back her normal body temperature. The lesson is that kids test your fortitude and makes you worry, worry, worry. They also fake-cry and throw tantrums as if adults easily succumb to manipulations.

a boost, yes a boost

I shouldn't blame my rambunctious, sweet little girl for my lackadaisical attitude. But the pile of clothes don't get ironed by themselves, the floor still needs hoovering, etc., etc. I find it already hard to move my muscle when my tiny albeit cute, daughter runs around every where, wreaking havoc in every corner. However as one annoying elderly once told those within hearing distance, once children grow and they can take care of themselves. Do they really, now?

Navigating the tumultuous seas is never easy, not having the time for yourself, not having friends... I'm stuttering in mid-sentence.

saturated?

I have difficulty managing my time. My plate is too much hard labour, I tend to snooze too much on days off. Then in a moment of lull, I got into another viewing of Kay Tagal Kang Hinintay, a film starring Judy Ann Santos and Rico Yan and one I've seen a million times and got caught in the web of time-wasting; reading, digging about the said partnership on the web, pouring over old magazines, deciphering between the comments on old videos. I was able to catch their rapport on Gimik, which I missed in real time. Judy Ann had far better fashion sense in the barkada series than some of her films. But the videos they have together are limited as their team up ended long before Rico passed away.

As for Judy Ann, she has Instagram and she's such a creative cook (hope to see her become a full-pledged chef). My husband who is hard to please when it comes to food mutters "she didn't prepare that?!" But she certainly lovingly crafts her #dirty breakfast with such fancy and galore. She cooks as well as she acts. Amazing.

At my age, my sense of awe and wonder on Filipino films stops with Judy Ann. I don't dwell on anyone younger than her. I'm such into the bygone era of the 80's or 60's. While Philippine show business, the producers of film companies would rather invest on films about teenagers. However the audience embrace what they are served. It's all a matter of press release and image-building, nothing in-depth. Why go deep when life is all about the young? The film companies target audience depends on their parents and guardians for their allowance.  As I age, I find it hard to relate to the producers and film companies' mindset.

mid-month

I'm so sad about Robin Williams death. I've seen him in tons and tons of movies. He made me laugh. He made me cry. Try as I might until I'm blue in the face, I'm not witty and definitely not a source of the best one-liners and quotable quotes. To those with unparalleled sense of humour, a shower of my fervent admiration comes your way.

bye, bye Minnie, Daisy's tablecloth

After two weeks, our dining table is back to its bare essence. We had Minnie Mouse team, my child loves Minnie.

Preparing my daughter's second birthday party wasn't exactly a breeze. But after the event I've grown up wiser and more enlightened about food (main dishes & desserts) tables, tablecloth, chairs, cutleries, balloons (no more helium balloons especially that we don't own a helium canister) drinks (buy dry ice before the event?) cakes, souvenirs and guests. Is it all about the guests?

Oh yes, the bulk of concern is the content of the guest list, primarily on those who didn't bother to come to those who should have been there but were tied up with work or vital circumstances. It's also baffling how a group of individuals have this one degree connection to each other but don't mingle or make small talk. In a party we'd rather talk with the people we know. Or we could forge lifetime friendship or interaction.

But it's a get together or a reunion, it should be enlightening.

addiction

For the past week and a half, my eyes and attention have been glued to the last of Sharon Cuneta's poor little rich girl roles, To Love Again, a Danny Zialcita scripted classic. Because it's from Danny Zialcita, the lines are crisp and witty. It's an addicting fairy tale of an arranged marriage. The protagonists are gorgeous and articulate. The support cast talks sense and sound intelligent.

I always like Sharon's early films, those done before her 18th birthday and her arrays of rags to riches tales of a wannabe singing superstar. They made me relax, enabled me to forget my poverty-stricken milieu. But they also provided a vista to the conflicting world of the very wealthy. Oh yes, the rich have problems and it's not their next meal.

In To Love Again, Sharon had Miguel Rodriguez as leading man. I remember the film was not as well-promoted as with her previous motion pictures. I might have been wrong, it was 31 years ago and at nine, more concerned with finishing up my vacation in my dad's hometown. I didn't see this movie in the cinema and only discovered its magic many years later. Maybe, with a far more vigorous packaging ( like Viva did with Sharon's career), Miguel could have given Richard Gomez some solid competition. But stuff happens. Richard is now into father roles. Do superstars eventually play support? Hopefully, not Nora, Vilma, Sharon.

happy birthday sweetie!

two years old!





She touched Mini's eyes before a proper picture. Money shot down the drain?

the kind that saves?

For the past weeks I've been watching back episodes of ANC On the Money, a great program encouraging families and individuals to save and invest. It features living below budget on episodes relating to building up funds while sections about spending on travel, art, beauty and education thwarts the quest to fill the savings account.

Unless the person has struck gold and earns gazillions, it's hard to allot specifics on spending between basic necessities and pure, unadulterated luxury.

On that notion, the cost of education strikes a cord. It's so damn expensive (I'm only talking about the tertiary level) yet people breed and breed as if they're billionaires. Children, as I've observed in most cultures, are used as trophies. Whether they'll grow up caring, kind and successful doesn't really matter. They could hardly be investments in the future if they turn out to be a challenge rather than the quintessential pride and joy of the family. Well.

Very Interesting meaning you are boring me to death

June has been such a fascinating month. I've learned a lot traveling, flying over to Berlin to mark my 40th. I was looking at the infrastructures but mostly observing the people. Going to museums cost money but as we walk along the streets, take the trains from west to east, listening to the language that I should at least know a bit, opened up a whole new meaning to fascinating. Our minds are broadened by embarking on journeys and discovering new places.

Since my psyche was occupied with a lot of stuff prior to our flight, I didn't prepare an itinerary. We were able to wing it, this is my trip (World Cup or not), my husband is quite brilliant with direction whilst my spatial awareness needs work. Our hotel was walking distance to the Berlin Wall and that in itself tick the box. The roads are wide and spacious and has spaces allotted mainly for bicycles.

It's expensive in Berlin. But it's an efficient, organised city, an aspiration for the wannabes.

turning of the pox

I'm in another box, almost old age box. Age is maybe a number. But what one accumulates through the passage of time is so-called wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can only be acquired through experiences.
Aargh! Ya di ya ya.

Gripes.

I had chicken pox recently and I still have the scars on my face. Scars that will never fade nor vanish. I hate it when people who had childhood chicken pox don't even attempt to feign concern. It's absurd to emphatise when one feels a void of nothing.

Polin meanwhile, (big shot Polin) who I just bumped through the corridors at work related her own adult chicken pox experience. She had rigours, chills, pain. She felt what I felt. In just one minute, she made me feel better.

Then my nuclear family went to Berlin for a couple of days, just to see for myself how a leading country of the EU maintains its lifestyle. From what I could gather staring at the the deluge of modern art and architecture encapsulating the city, affluence clearly looks great, capitalism at its best.

the things in June

When I developed adult chicken pox two weeks ago, I felt my world collapsing. My mucus membranes developed spots and my pain score was three. I was shivering. I had rigours. I was in tears.

I missed my mom, who saved my existence when I had the measles at eight (which ruined second grade for me). Here, with no mother and no friends, it's a vacuum of melancholia. I have my husband but he works and he'd rather be with his friends on the eve of his birthday. And do we really have friends in adulthood? Everybody has children or live far away. So I cried and forgot my paracetamol.

When my mom had a stroke in 1998 at 52, her friends visited but to help her with personal care? They considered it too intimate an undertaking for someone who's just a friend. It's the daughter or a sister that assist in carrying the load when we're sick, that is the norm. It all depends on one's relationship dynamics.

My husband and a colleague asked, why didn't I try to acquire chicken pox in childhood? I just didn't get it, people. The younger brothers had them but I was not inflicted. I could have a vaccine, but I wasn't organise enough to schedule an injection in the last decade. You're lucky if you had them when you were young, it means you didn't have to suffer.
Whilst I had to experience meanness from the hands of those with no souls.

snarky part 2

After a few attempts on miscalls, I got a return call yesterday. Maybe it's just a combination of a full time job (plus overtime), household chores and young children that some people forget to text back and just categorises texts as non-important while I wait for a reply. Or I'm over reacting and too impatient. But I got my answers. So I've got to physically write down the guest list.

As I'm having spots (chicken pox affliction) and hurting at this very moment, my chores are delayed. I also have work related paperworks and photo albums to finish and start, and to continue reading.

As I've been reading about Rizal and the propaganda movement plus the results of the last UK elections, I feel sad in the context of history and cultural beliefs. We should be broad minded, unbiased, humble. We should strive for equality and respect. Despite the passage of time, people are still prejudiced and that is so sad.

a simple text; snark, snark, snark

My sweet child had the chicken pox. She was a trooper, a simple setback didn't slow her down. She climbed, she kicked, she ran when she was with spots. Probably because she has yet to turn two and no idea of the consequences of viral infections.

Her mom meanwhile is terrified of scarring, physical scars that last a lifetime. Will I be forever IgG chicken pox, negative? The verdict is up in the air.

I'm a paranoid scar-former. I should be scared of wrinkles as well, 40 is just a number but it's almost senior citizen number.

But as I grow older, I want to pick up a new skill like sewing my own clothes or knitting.
Or baking.




I didn't bake that, the ladies from the church were fund raising. But not bad. Turning 40, also gets me a new mixer (cross fingers).

As for the snark, really, not a simple answer to the text?

just another read?

The past week I've been browsing on the death of Andres Bonifacio, the People Power Revolution, politics of the past and a few random sneak on the current issues. History is fascinating as always. If only if I have the time to read and read and then read some more, and observe people as they talk about their beliefs and prejudices.

When I was a kid I kept a few paperbacks about Rizal. He was the paragon. Our helper said he didn't command an army, by virtue he shouldn't be the National Hero. There was also the time in the early 80's when Tita Two mentioned casually during lunchtime about Aguinaldo's role in Bonifacio's death. Tita Two imparted a few morsels (I would have appreciated one or two piano lessons although I would have been scared then) in those days.

On Rizal and Bonifacio, my stand currently is, they're both heroes and died before their time, quite in a violent way. Now I'm trying to reconnect my memory of Graciano Lopez Jaena. What I remember fondly about growing up in Bacolod, is that the older grade schools are named after the revered heroes; Rizal, Bonifacio, Mabini, Lopez Jaena. Whilst I graduated in an elementary school not named after a person. I don't know what's the difference, we were all in free education.

Fingers really crossed, to those going home they will bring back for me (as pasalubong) a few Filipiniana books; Agrarian Reform, Politics, Biographies.

Or Sharon Cuneta DVD's.

coming to grips

The Peppa Pig App (the one that allows a toddler to create some sort of art), is kind of fun, allows my own twinkle toes to touch the screen and select amongst a splash of colours. But still a toddler's attention span is less than five minutes after a brief brush with satiety it's next to another set of toys then run back and forth like a headless chicken. Maybe, that's just my toddler, other kids learn their alphabet or play the piano.

Kids are different. Every individual is unique. We shouldn't compare the running commentary of our lives on social media or just within the grapevine, the gossip mill. I know sometimes we get down just because others seem to live in a big house. Or they have a lot of kids and while our biological clocks tick and tick and boom!

But having 14 to 17 kids bring on the issue of sustenance, nutrition and education. I was reading about a rich family dividing their assets for their huge brood and it didn't amount to anything substantial. To make a realistic scenario, let's say a couple has four children? I don't know, hardships do occur to those who don't have much. I have a hard time doing the laundry of just one toddler.

texting back, such waste of time?

It's the battle of the wills, until now I'm still waiting for a text back.

It's not because I'm a super perfect "text-back" person, I'm sometimes guilty of not replying immediately to a simple text query. But there are texts that need urgent answers and despite the hectic pace of having several kids, a marriage, a job, there would be a slot in the time-space continuum for a tiny text in one's high tech phone for a friend or colleague.

hunky dory

I'm forever in pursuit of the very definition of cool. Who are the cool people? That is opening Pandora's box and I don't have a friend called Pandora. I know quoting from Notting Hill is not cool. But I find the film enchanting. For Anna Scott to own up to plastic surgery, I guess is kind of liberating.

So the cool people are those who are kind. They may not own a Chanel hand bag or decorated in the finest accessories but they're ever so generous and hardworking.

And they listen, they analyse, they lend a hand, without turning up their noses, arching those eyebrows, being stiff upper lip.

Sometimes they upload those very magical photos, sometimes social media just takes too much time for them. But they always return text.

the curve

I've been looking for ways to lift up my spirits from the doldrums and I've been reading business ideas, on how to be my own boss, how to earn the keep with utmost insight and determination. And it's a monumental task. Where art thou, savings in order to create a brand? It would probably be liberating to have the capital to establish a business and nurture it from infancy, experience its growth, see it prosper.

But as we dare to dream, we might as well write fiction. I've read and seen people open and close shops over the course of decades. Sustaining a business, catching the public's interest, discovering a gap in the market, require a lot of luck. But with in-depth research, there's should be hope.

wishing for green thumb

for Valentine's Day. it's gone.
slowly wilted.







for Mothers Day. it's still here. I have to learn how to keep this alive and going.

let's bake again

I'm still not doing enough baking to calm my nerves whenever I see piled-up laundry and dirty dishes or the thought of yet another round of tidying up, shredding and hoovering as part of the usual routine.

Peppa Pig would just label my concerns "boring," bitchy little piggy. Peppa is one competitive animated character. My world has been soaked in animation for almost two years. I don't mind, anything that would grab the toddler's attention is more than welcome in this journey of screams and wails.

pleasing

was it only last week, i trawled the web in earnest seeking ideas to find the right business, to be my own boss? maybe collaborate.

Almost fell asleep

I watched the Academy Awards a day and a few hours late and deleted it right away. Ellen was following the rules, very sycophantic towards the movie stars. I'd rather listen to the wise words (or hear the singing voice) of Seth McFarlane.




All the major winners were a bit predictable. Matthew McConaughey's speech was different, made me utilise the grey matter. As one article pointed out, he'll do well as a motivational speaker. I've got to see How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days again to remind myself that his accent is not one dimensional.

I was mostly happy to see Daniel Day Lewis in the ceremony. He doesn't usually grace a lot of shindigs. But there he was on stage, reminding me, that I have to look and find a copy of My Beautiful Laundrette.

I haven't seen a lot of movies on the telly for almost two years, in cinema, even longer. But I might buckle down and improve my time management. Starting with The Great Gatsby, hope it's still playing on Sky.

yawn in yawn ville

Some people are just bitches. Hope they get their comeuppance.

Let's see if one is not Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Sheryl Sandberg or someone with less than a billion pounds to his or her name, one is not all cool. If you're not too rich, you're basically a failure. That should be the mantra of a few who are too smug, too arrogant, too hoity-toity. Should people suffer a little hardship to embrace humility?

corrosive distraction

Mindless reading is my greatest weakness. Others succumb to the lure of cigarettes or alcohol. I do a lot of pop-up reading I'm not entirely certain whether it's useful or necessary as we journey through this lifetime. I use my phone (type random names on google) or the newspapers and magazines handed out for free at Tube stations. At the weekend I grabbed a copy of Time magazine ( should I buy when it's available online?). There was a chronology on popular boy bands in one of the pages. I haven't deciphered every single article yet. But it reminds me to read more on Margaret O'Brien.

Reading is good. But I read the gossip pages instead of washing up or ironing or hoovering. Or baking ( I bake now. Hurray!). So I'm writing this amid clutter and wreckage. I should remember to post and wrap mails and parcels and start the lay-out on my little girl's album. Going through my list of chores is not exactly fun or exciting.

But I'll be more moribund if I will not move my ass at this point of touching letters on screen. I'll start in the kitchen. Nibble a cheesecake before midnight? I might as well, read.

awaiting the blue sky

Aside from being cold, the relentless rain has overwhelmed my senses since September. It's harder to manoeuvre when it's colder, now that we limit our radiator use. I wear thick clothes indoors instead. Energy companies and their love of profits push us to live in dire straits making it easy to wallow in misery.

The weather extremes are the facts of life. There's drought in California whilst parts of England are flooded. The night before and this morning, I was struggling to walk against the trajectory of the wind. Would I rather have the snow and fall flat in the mud? Winter is far from perky but we all know that the sun is shining brightly soon.

The upside to the chill is that there are less people in the streets. Our communal garden is devoid of noisy, shrieking kids as well as noisy, shrieking adults. But my little girl is thriving in the cold. She has a few minutes running around in the cold almost daily, having the space all to herself, doing her usual headless chicken bits.

I would surely miss the silence once the sun shines. Alas, three blocks are also going to get occupied in this new year, three blocks of new neighbours. One thing's certain in life, the world's getting smaller for tons amount of people.

old talk

If only RP could provide jobs for all its people, there wouldn't be a diaspora. Part of the population wouldn't seek greener pastures within and beyond the Asian continent and there wouldn't be a necessity to literally kowtow to citizens of developed economies. Channeling our patience towards our stereotype professions in foreign land, sometimes in a hostile environment, contributes to our motherland's coffers in addition to providing financial support to our families. It's these contributions from very intrepid individuals that is propelling us to the top of financial hierarchy.

There is still a long way to go in eradicating poverty and hunger. There is the unequal distribution of wealth. There should be strong government programs providing income generating projects to the deprived members of society. A few should not be in a hurry to populate the earth. These were the heavily-debated topics during my adolescent years, more than two decades later, the pictures still show tearful scenes of deprivation. These days it's more high-tech, the debates are being argued and deliberated online.

But talk is merely, talk. It all boils down to good governance and a majority imbibing the virtues of good foresight.

in dire need of endorphins

I couldn't recall a bleaker January in all my years in the Western Hemisphere. The cold breeze, and constant rain seem shattering to the very core of both flesh and spirit. It's not quite the polar vortex. But it's nippy and it shoots up the energy bill, which is a fortune and ruins the budget for the season.

As the ads on the telly and the features on free magazines splurge on travel, I couldn't join in the revelry of huffing and puffing with a backpack. Maybe when there are a few gold coins stashed away and necessary time off available, I'll think of the beach in January. Not this year though. Maybe next year, if I won't eat the rest of 2014.

It will be warmer, soon. I find it more inspiring when it's warm. I could think better. Maybe my little girl would give me some leeway and allow me time and space to read more books, I wouldn't stress so much on cultural differences. But I would still moan and sweat on the tiny, tiny stuff.

light post, light blog

These are Pie's photographs, her copyright. She allowed me to use them, with so much kindness, to light up this page. So belated happy January birthday, Pie!

Food photo blogging like fashion blogging or beauty blogging is maybe, feathery but it illuminates pages hence sparkling to the eyes, easy to the emotions. Unlike political, highly-contentious pieces, not dredging too deep blurts out the drama, the labyrinthine, equivocal aspect of life. Even our daily routine or appointments we regularly attend, described in detail, reads heavy. Whilst the colours within the ingredients, make - up and clothes permeate happiness. Despite the stress and struggle, we always, at least aspire to be happy, and content.

I find massive difficulties rummaging through the gossamer aspect of food and fashion or any lifestyle fare. But it would be nice to try, less burden, good for the heart.

January Nine anew

Today is my mom's birthday. I haven't been to her grave in years. I haven't been home for years. I miss our pop culture discussion. I haven't met anyone who is as smart, beautiful and well- read as she was in all dimension.

Most people I know don't read as much as she did and I would find it refreshing to be in an environment composed of friends who dissect the issues and the turmoils that affect our existence. I know what she'll say about the calamities, political storms or the kernels with the family. I wonder what she'll make of Twitter. A few broadcast too much maelstrom in their lives. She had great appreciation for significant achievement.

She did a lot of multi-tasking which proved catastrophic to her health. If only she'd tackled her chores slowly, in contemplation, she would still be here. But as days go by and age is becoming just a number, I appreciate now more than ever, her many enduring qualities.

a sigh, a big sigh

I have plans for my dirt poor January existence. The month where it is still dark at 7am and we're short on loose change.

If hibernating and staying indoors is a good strategy then that would be the scenario. But then I've done that in 2013 and not necessarily 2012 (there was after all the Olympics) and I'm still left bereft of motivation to organise the compartment in a neat and orderly fashion. In terms of reading, I haven't finished a paperback and the free papers are stacked in a corner for weeks before I have the chance to scan through the articles.

Probably, I would lessen my web trawls but it is through lurking on Google that we learn in depth about facts and figures. But knowing that the West mostly view my people and sometimes my continent with derision, I just have to live and exist, I can sense that through waiting for replacement buses when the tube is closed for engineering works on a rainy weekend or just by hobnobbing with friends and family in general or simply picking up the pervading attitude when talking to people. Racial bias exists, whether in a busy metropolis or in a sleepy town along the commuter belt.