Worrying for Uncertainty

I am afraid to say that I have been indulging. I hate to write or update friends on my status when all I know I have been doing is indulging in my worrier fantasies.

I haven’t had a good night sleep since… I don’t know… most probably since thesis writing. Rest has been sparse, even though nothing much else occupies my time. I am now a messy bundle of nerves that are, at any moment, make and break episodes. Sometimes I do love this moodiness and edginess but I also do recognize that it is this place that often pushes me into risky and dangerous behavior because I crave mirrored symmetry in my life.

And no, I am not ready for that yet.

Just giving a shout-out to send any positive thoughts this way.

Out.

Pivotal Moments

For a person who is constantly laughing and jolly, I have my share of down moments where I am all but consumed by what I did not have and would love to have. For the past few weeks, sleep has been scarce, particularly so in the week just passed. The days have been starting at the break of the new dawn at 5ish 6. And ending only at the back breaking time of midnight-ish because that is when my daily date with Mr. SO generally begins or end.

The sudden abundance of conscious waking moments in my life is… refreshing at best, but crippling at worst. I am plagued by the guilt of not sleeping and not getting my well-deserved (if I may say) rest. But at the same time, my mind, it is running wild on its own, on open fields and at the narrow strip where sand meets water.

Oh how we take things for granted till all is lost, through the cracks between our fingers. I need to learn to love my waking moments more. And embrace the rightful periods that I need to sleep!

Just Saying

This is going to be a little hard. I am not usually like that and this is not a topic that I often chat about at the supermarket aisle while I am deciding on my next meal plan.

Hmm, maybe I should also tell you right here and right now that you should not read this post if you are 1) in the presence of your parents, 2) or children for that matter, 3) or if you are about to have your lunch, 4) or tea break. Also stop reading here if you had just had your 5) lunch or breakfast or tea break. And about that Starbucks in your hand, maybe you should put it away.

Now I think you are ready, here is the question:

Have you ever tasted semen?

I don’t need to know your answer. Really I don’t. But if you have said yes to the previous question, then here is another for you:

Do you like it?

Now. This is the answer that is a little interesting. And this is one answer I would like to know. Obviously there is a catch-22 here in that if I know your reply to the second question, I would literally know your answer to the first question, which is the answer I specifically did not want to know about.

Just keep the answer to yourself. After all, I do prefer to be able to look all my friends in the eye when I get out of this barren desert land.

But if you had replied yes to the second question, I think you would enjoy this.

Just saying.

The Discovery of Pocket-Sized Paradise

I woke up last Saturday to a blinding and glaring sun. Yes, summer is officially here in Melbourne. Say your last goodbyes to the cooling winter. Now move along, move along.

Since the death of the writing period, I have been wayyy busy. With. Nothing.

It is nice to be contented with nothing to do. My life is now filled with planning the next eating venue and time. And working as an instruct-able robot for someone. Other than those things, I have been busy with the flu.

I think I have forgotten how it feels to be down with a sneezing, feverish bug. I can barely remember the last time I encountered the same sort of difficulties in clearing my breathing space.

This flu business, is so crippling, that I found it so hard to sleep. Eating is fine. Eating is always fine with me. But sleeping. Oh so hard.

On normal days, I find it difficult to drift to sleep when I am on my bed. I toss and turn and think and sigh before I finally go to dreamland. When I have the flu, I could barely lie down horizontally in bed. I am so stuffed up with mucus from my toes all the way to my nostrils and ears that I am overflowing with green snot…

Gross I know but OVERFLOWING is the key word. Now put a little of your imagination to the test. OVERFLOWING.

Okay. Now that I am sure you have a clear idea of what I am trying to get across, I need to know.

Ever found yourself in my position? Constantly breathing through your dry and scratchy throat due to a stuffed up, potentially ornamental and flu-afflicted nose? If you say yes to any of the above questions, then you better read what follows well. For I have discovered an amazing remedy to this almost impossible solution.

When I first discovered it hidden in the Ikea boxes I have, which is hidden in the cupboard-on-wheels, which is hidden in the built-in closet in my room, I was all ‘Eureka!’

And I screamed it on everyone on the chatting windows and I would gladly propagate my joy at this amazing discovery. Honestly, it is better than sex, drugs, strippers, chocolate and almost everything else on earth. It allowed me to use my nostrils for the purpose that it was intended for.

BREATHE people. It should be a human right to BREATHE. THROUGH THE NOSE.

Anyway. Say hello to Vicks Vapor-rub.

Go buy one whole truckload of it for the impending flu season. Honestly, I am an Elmo person through and through. But for that few nights, I might just trade in the red furry toy for a tub of that menthol goodness…

Why Do You Write?

Well specifically, why do I write?

Do I write to make the readers happy? Do I write to document my meandering time? Do I write to prove the existence of my intellectual side and to dispel rumors that I am empty in the head?

Do I write to make up for all the things that I hear on a daily basis? Do I write to make up for all that I leave unsaid in real life? Do I write for all the things that yearn to be said but go unheard in my life?

Hmm. Interesting question huh?

It is like the spring test that you get in philosophy class, with just one question comprising of one word, ‘Why?’ And suddenly, nothing and everything comes to mind. Every possible answer in this world seems to be both too long and too short at the same time.

So why so I write? Here is the glorified answer.

On one hand, I write to say what I cannot say in real life. And why is it that I cannot say it in real life you ask? Well… sometimes I am too polite, others I am too prideful and there are times when I am too slow to retort back my reply. But mostly, I am too chicken to say those things that I want to say. Mostly, the things that I put here are the things that go round and round and round in my head, always waiting for the opportunity to be verbalized. And yet the opportunities come round and round again, but I never ever ever grasp it due to my chicken shit-ness.

On the other hand, I write to be happy, or happier. And to inject some humor into an otherwise depressing experience. I mean life is already mundane, no point making our thoughts the same shade of grey right? I love how a little bit of imagination can brighten up my day, or yours for that matter. I love how a little bit of humor can initiate a whole new way of looking at things. And how fun is that, when you get to document bits and pieces of your life along the way? It gives you the amazing opportunity to look back once in a while and smile because a certain thing happened. And honestly, I am usually surprised to read old posts and recall the feelings that I once felt. So homely and comforting to know that you are still the same old you. At the same time, also warming to know how much you have grown since the last.

So I write, for a multitude of reasons that I cannot put into words. But most importantly, I write honestly of what I truly think and truly feel. At the very least, even if I were to feel violated and cast aside in the real life, I know that I am ok as a person… and intact as a whole when all else falls away.

Hmm, and that is why I write. For me.