winter, dec

It has been dark, wet, stormy, nippy. I've been sick, my little girl's, the hubby. It's definitely not a charm coughing my way to a weakened, debilitating existence. I cannot do any chores. I was merely lying in bed and get siphoned into a snarky feeling of discontent. I should do more, save more, read and write more, iron the pile of clothing that's taunting the very basic core.

If only the cold, overbearing autumn, then winter, doesn't let me down, I would cross stitch or learn to crochet or decipher the code to comfort.

uv days

I'm sleepy and tired, most of the time and since it's summer ( not any other July but heat wave July) a few select souls add aggravations like screaming within the realm of life and the courtyard, merely because it's the essence of their personalities. If they're kids or squalling brats, it's fine (grin and bear it?), if they're adults, I'll just remember it's winter soon and these flesh-bearing mammals would rather stay indoors.

and the parties. all the planning. cooking and tidying. should we do quiet for next year's celebration? venture on a voyage? how do people turn 40?

trolls?

when i last posted a comment on JZ's blog ( ages ago), it wasn't published. it was about the link between show business and the old Etonians and Oxbridge hybrids. it wasn't derogatory, the author just thought it was a contrasting opinion and it might smudge the essence of her piece. but trolls not moderated properly for this celebrity's blog? poor girl. her theme is very light, mostly travels and food. it's refreshing to read articles from mainstream media personalities. most slebs probably litter their writing with dangling syntax. we'll never know because we seldom read their columns or blogs not slashed mightily by well-intentioned editors. they're mostly performers but a little bit of good blogging would add gravitas. this young lady sings, acts, compose songs. she has style. she is on a daily noontime show (which I have never seen). she has more than a million twitter followers (fewer than most of her contemporaries) but compared to the rival which most of the acerbic curmudgeons identify (would love to say the B word), she is not masa and in the social media age, that not even megastars are spared from haters (come to think of it, just an online article provokes anger), she gets hit by arrows and extremely sharp knives. yet, she doesn't make patol (speaking like ate Shawie) or stoop to such low levels.

hard on the back, the mind

buying a property and moving digs are both incredibly hellish experiences. if only, there's a short cut to skip the soul-breaking process. if only we have the money, not needing a mortgage. if only, down payments are acquired with flick of a wand or a click of the fingers, just by magic or fairy dusts. if only, comfort is just there. but there have been morsels of wisdom i've acquired through the ordeal. first, fiscal prudence -- buying only essentials, attenuating whimsy, no more books (in fairness, the sweet one hard-bounds take up more space than my paperbacks), no more magazines ( i will throw away loads in the next few days), no more shopping for clothes that serve no purpose (not really, but give up the old, tattered ones). second, invest in a proper shredder (some archaic receipts encroach on the living area). third, at least minimise the procrastination -- there are tons of chores to do, the clock ticks, the baby wails. fourth, invest in good and proper friendships (they may help out, if not to move, assemble the flat packs? too much? give advice? emotional support?). fifth, still percolating.
tick, tock.

the lulls and the likes

if only chores don't exist. i should be efficient but not so much. what gives? it's mostly lurking for good reads, not necessarily gossips. not being able to blog, that hurts.

 i hope to keep the promise of being organised, of not procrastinating, of writing.

that means less Come Dine with Me reruns and more documentaries, or just tidying up for the zen-like moments. i've learned a lot about cultural nuances just these past few months. how the west perceives the east, how imperialism crumbles, it's not new thoughts but teach us more about humility in a myriad of ways.

reprieve

is it a sunny morning? perhaps i'll find out later. i'm maybe devoid of energy. but there's no chance to chill, with chores in between feeding sessions. there are always interruptions while ironing a pile or merely reading a news article, even during mealtimes. but this is only now, time flies as quickly as possible. was it only yesterday i was constantly pricking my fingers and playing Adele's music in a Steve Job's device?

while i'm still playing Adele's songs (my playlist needs updating), i'm no longer pricking my fingers (gtt's normal). but BP is still high, which annoys tremendously. i'm struggling with the balanced diet and exercise (nothing's new). but i'm optimistic, got to be positive. or i would forever be pudgy.

is it cold today?

 (photo courtesy of mr. taburada)

jan's egg tartlets reminded me of a friend of a friend, the one with the arrogance and bravado contained in a tiny package.  her words and behavior stung in '06 and they continue to manifest over the years every time i see her or her name is mentioned in random conversations.  then there's ryan's former colleague (they had a photo taken together as recently as a little bit more than 18 months ago), whose bitchiness is a story unto itself.  it's better for the soul to just sprinkle their goodness with frozen shoulders or avoid their presence at all costs.  if not possible, acknowledge their voices only when it's absolutely necessary.

back to jan's tartlets, they're great.  the lady is quite skillful with the whisk (or did she use one? i have no idea about baking).  i would have photographed them but i broke one into two as soon as i got home and ruined the pair's essence.  it would be neat to learn how to make cupcakes.  type2 diabetes runs in my blood but it's the earnest consumption of rice and instant noodles that would impair my insulin production.

anyway, it's good friday today.  we should all be kind.  is kindness becoming rare these days?  hopefully not.

peeves

--three pm sunset
--packed trains
--packed lifts
--vacuous conversations
--melted snow
--gaining weight
--fiery temperaments
--unanswered texts and e-mails

hide, seek, run down the stairs

was invited to sam's birthday gathering by his mom julie, she texted me the address and all. but with autumn darkness twisting my emotions (as if),  the hubby pleading exhaustion and with  supposed companion G having her own soiree for baby daughter, i begged off from jul's event.  hope jul's won't kill me next time she sees me in the changing room.

at G's, it's all of the same, i'm the only one invited from work (just by accidentally phoning her in the morning), almost every single guest were friends from kindergarten all the way to capping and pinning ceremonies.  that has been the case since the birth of first child, her son, three and a half years ago.  i have one of  G's female buddies, whom i've met several times on several milestone occasions, still asking my name, my presence, my marital status and if i've spawned any offsprings, again.  being a work colleague i guess, i see G more often than inquisitive childhood and school friend.  every time G and her hubby celebrate a do held at their abode (excluding the two christenings at the community center) during their son's first and second birthdays, and now baby daughter's first candle-blowing experience, i feel like crashing unto a tight-knit club. the kids, who are friendlier than the adults, run around the stairs like headless chicken. in fairness, G sat next to me the whole 10 minutes i was observed  sitting in a corner looking for updates on twitter and ryan's blog.

after penning the above paragraph,  i decided to backread on pieces i've composed  about parties and friends and found this, what i wrote after attending jen's do. navigate and meet new people? sure.

here's another one written in May, before jan joined us in blogger.

7

it's dark outside, at a few minutes past seven in the morning. that is what creepy about winter, the prolonged dusk is not good for personalities with mood pendulums. makes them bitchy. i bitch. a lot.

i've also lost messages in the phone update process. my network says i'm almost over my bandwidth limit. damn my predilections.

haven't gotten over the lost photographs especially a few of that nice view in Greece. i blame my phone's software. i also know i was daft. i should have backed up my work.

there's probably light outside. got to start on those chores.

the bubble

as a person who grew up in slightly above the poverty line, reading a stylist article about indulgence and consumption, jolted my perspectives into a tumble. so life is all about keeping up with the Kardashians and our Facebook friends? a reality show family as a metaphor? indeed, life is very much different amongst the middle classes in the western world.

as i read along the lines of acquiring material objects to make our lives better, i reflected during the times i've gone hungry as a child. but then i was never hungry as a nipper, my parents, despite their weaknesses in some areas of their traits provided for us, their kids, the basic food groups. what i lacked was a dollhouse and top of the line toys and barbie dolls but those were merely stuff, very superficial.

back to the present and the article; eating out three times a week, coating ourselves in designer, up-market brands, competing with Facebook friend JJ who just checked into Fortnum and Mason, pushing ourselves to counter-act, are hardly a necessity for in-depth fulfilment and happiness. of course, there are other areas of Facebook one-upmanship; career, the spouse, the number of children, the width, length, design of the house, travels, status updates. all bollocks.

pushing more pens

there would always be time to write for bloggers.

after the first scene in the film the social network, the main protagonist/ antagonist mr. zuckerberg wrote a scorching blog about his ex-girlfriend, delineating her bra size and the origin of her family name. if you're in the ex-girlfriend's shoes, it wasn't the least amusing to be ridiculed in the internet, for all the world to read.

despite not using real names, there would always be a hint of the person, the subject of the piece. the individual who did us harm, the object of biting remarks, is usually described in every engaging detail. she/he could burn or get buried alive in 140 characters through twitter and Facebook status or turn into dust after the smoke has settled down through paragraphs after paragraphs in a blog platform.

is it worth it to maim someone in writing? most probably not. in my case, they deserved every word of repugnance. but it's easier for healing. anger shouldn't be sheltered without words, sometimes we need to set it free.

why couldn't everybody blog?

Indian Summer

it was a very humid, hot walk. i'm no longer complaining after the fact.

reconstruct

it's not going to lose me any weight, these horizontal activities. doing nothing is kind of sad honestly. i'll mend my ways.

answering texts

with the advent of great technology comes the responsibility including operating a machinery like the photo copier (above).

in terms of the sophisticated social media, i like my texts, e-mails, snail mails answered and acknowledged. maybe not right away, a few days, a week, a few weeks later will even do. sometimes you're just hanging in the air like MJ. do they hate you? or what the F? the mantra of adhering to the rules of etiquette escape some really nice and decent folks.

22 •c

It seeps into your soul, indolence. Is it the curse of summer? Or merely the product of poor time management? Or lying in, with the 24 hour tv clicker is the beauty of existence? Or tired means tired, rest is priority. I guess that's it, a sabbatical, away from the glare of tiny screens and toxic rants.

coin collection

with the exchange rate being crap, high prices of basic commodities, increased in gas and electricity prices and all other cuts, every single day is a cry for austerity. in simpler terms, no more fanciful bottle of pop during lunch break, consuming all the meat products and other items in the fridge before expiry dates, (one day out of date, they get thrown away by an adamant food authority) not entering a retail clothing shop, (for me at least, i'm perpetually begging mr. trainers) or a bookstore (amazon's cheaper but i can't wait, no more new books until december), eating more fruits and vegetables (i'm trying), sleeping early, waking up early, leaving the fascinators (obviously above) or fancy head gears to the movers and climbers. i could add some more, but i'll sleep first then write a part two when i get another epiphany.

after the hour

felt better. the paracetamol surely worked its magic.

but the eyes still hurt. was at home waiting for the UPS guy. turned out to be a one day wait, rather than 1130, or even 1330, the parcel arrived at 1545, almost. my cramped friday became a staring at the computer day, stinging the eyes even more. computer screens are much less friendly than hard copies. it would take a while before you'll convert me to embrace e-reader.

soothing voice

went to boots opticians today for my eye test. of course, i need glasses. i was catered by three staff, one was tiger mean, the other two were quite congenial. the main optician was so pretty, so nice, so professional. the one who photographed my eyes was a roar of unpleasantness. in the service industry, a smile goes a long way. plus boots have a specific website to write comments or complains.

now let's tackle attitudes and behaviour in general. pernicious people, uncouthness don't get my vote, whether you're a colleague or a boss. shouting or raising your voice in a public domain when you're sober or not watching a sports event, in the fish section of libertad market or a political rally speaks of your breeding. rudeness should never be tolerated, period. it could sound hoity-toity, or a classic wimp appeal. but these are just my beliefs.

so far none of my friends are toxic to others. perhaps friends of friends? let's find out.

miss potty mouth

is me.

not yet as sharp tongued as gwyneth, i couldn't utter the C word just yet. but i'm liberated by the F word. there was once a collective gasp of disbelief when i blurted out my usual, FH loudly on comments about the off season Modric. the F word, the real F word is my solace from the short tempered uptight bitches.