argh sniffle sob argh

all bottled up

She feels all bottled up of late.

And so thinks she should write again.

Photo by the artistry of Georgia Wiggs on Flickr!

Inspired

Now I know that God gives us all different talents and strengths. I know I have been blessed with many abilities. And I am thankful.

But really, do some people have to be so freaking musically talented?! It really gets my goat and makes me want to kick them!

I have to work really really hard at being able to play any musical instrument and even then it's not brilliant, just good. It's not talent, it's passable.

I can't help but feel that much music these days is rather uninspired. It now normally relies on the lyrics to make or break the song. 

I have to admit, that is why I initially loved Coldplay's Viva la Vida, it was the lyrics. It was when they sang "I know Saint Peter won't call my name". It was the rush of heady, rebellious, me- against- the- world- and- i- don't- give- a- crap.

But then I didn't know it could sound like this...

This... is truly inspired...

back and melancholy

She is back to this virtual world this girl. She has been absent for a rather long time.

Funny how in her moments of melancholy she finds herself back to the writing. This must be a hard blog to read.

It has been a good few months. She will tell all in the posts to come. She is indeed very blessed. 

But at the moment she feels like the black and white parts of a picture accented in red if that makes any sense to anyone else at all. Like a Gaugin, somehow sombre in vivid technicolour.

But for now suffice to say, she is feeling melancholic, wondering why, wondering how, wondering, wondering wondering....

Image courtesy of SayDirect on Flickr.

*hyperventilate*

My To- Do List is 3 and a half pages long...

and I have 70 days...

and 6 kg to lose...

*gulp*

oh i wish i were a tai tai with chopsticks in my hair?

NB:- For the non- asian lingo people out there a "tai tai" is a stereotypical rich chinese lady of leisure :)

Image Courtesy of { Karen } on Flickr.

the truth is...

... that i am barely through without you.

... and i need the next 25 weekends to fly

... February please come soon.

Image courtesy of flavita.v on Flickr.

a view from the dumps

She tries very hard to look at things on the bright side. To find the silver lining in everything. She is conscious of how much a positive mental attitude helps. She's generally quite good at this.

But the truth is she is prone to bouts of depression. As is much of her family. Perhaps more than the asthma or the eczema, it's the hereditary depression that bothers her.

She wasn't always quite so susceptible or at least no more so than the average Joe. But three summers ago she started to feel the tremors that would lead to a full blown life earthquake that lasted about a year. Two summers ago was when it was at its worst.

That summer, what most people don't know and didn't see, were the hours upon hours she spent in her bed. Unable to get up. Unable to eat. Unable to really do much. Watching hours and hours of Charmed and Poirot, Friends and Family Guy, just to get through the day. She managed to get out of bed about once a week to attend a Lindy class because that was the only thing she could deal with that involved being around people. She spent a small fortune on phone calls to friends in far flung corners of the world because they gave her the light she couldn't see for herself. She cried. Every single day. For hours.

But she got better with time. She is proud that she never resorted to the drugs to make it better. Thankful that she had angels in her life to help lift her up. Grateful that she found it within herself to make it through.

She went from crying everyday. To once a week. To once a month. And now it's once every so often.

But she hates that it happens even once every so often. That once in a while she visits the dumps without even meaning to or even knowing how she got there.

She needs to start with the crazy exercise routine again she thinks. She could do with losing the weight and the endorphins are always welcome.

Bring on the treadmill.

asylum

On days like this I would like to climb into a box and stay there.

I am exhausted.

I should not have to defend or feel bad for crying. I am not made of steel. I have a heart and occasionally it hurts. and when it does it should be allowed to grieve. perhaps what I cry about doesn't make sense to you. but it doesn't have to. you're not walking the road i'm walking, you're not feeling the things i'm feeling, you're not me.

I am tired.

of being the apparently horrid ungrateful child. you have expectations of me that i struggle to meet. i feel inadequate when i can't meet them. when i say i don't know and leave the decision to you, it's not code for anything else. I genuinely don't know. i should not then be at the receiving end of your wrath for not knowing. it's not being recalcitant. it's not because i'm being difficult. it's because i feel out of my depth and would like you help. i know however that I get frustrated and that it shows and for that i am so very truly sorry.

but i am worn out.

i am pooped.

i am beat.

bushed.

done in.

and i would like to climb into a box and stay there.

Image courtesy of Centre for International Education on Flickr.

a million little pieces

she has had her fair share of heart struggles this girl. they have almost always had to do with boys.

but this heart struggle is different. it has nothing to do with boys, but it goes to the very centre of her being.

and she is scared this girl. scared in a way she only remembers being once before. because this is the very essence of her.

the research terrifies her more and more. she wonders if she has said goodbye to something without even knowing. without even appreciating it. she wonders if she was to blame in some way.

and she feels helpless. completely and utterly useless. she has no plan. she doesn't understand. all she can do it sit here and be scared.

so no, there are no pretty pictures to this post. because with what she saw today her heart broke.

and now all she sees are the million little pieces.

2 days a month

...

she gets despondent and paranoid

she over thinks things

she frets and cries

...

this is her lot, being a woman, and it's ok

but she does wonder

as it's the same recurring issues these two days a month

are they issues that she buries the remaining 28 days

or phantom issues that she imagines into place

to keep the grey thoughts company

for those 2 days a month

grumps grumps

I don't get people who don't use their BLINKING indicators!

Pun fully intended

Seriously, those knobs by the side of your steering wheel are not purely decorative

*exasperated sigh*

Photo courtesy of biopot on Flickr.

in the looking glass

it now blares out at her undeniably that she has abandonment issues

Image courtesy of |ash| on Flickr.

Sans

She kids herself by saying that the reason for this melancholy is the post holiday blues. But really she knows better.

The fact is this, He makes her smile. And being without him is like having an ice cream sundae without the cherry. You still enjoy the ice cream. You don’t need the cherry. It just tops it off nicely.

She has done this before, but somehow this time is just that little bit different and this difference is bemusing her no end.

Because the difference is that she knows they have a million tomorrows, but they don’t have today. It is the sweetest, most charming, realization that is making this, that much harder. The perfect oxymoron.

She was a little concerned a few weeks ago about how it would be spending day in day out with him. Their relationship was based on being apart. Prior to getting together they had in fact spent the equivalent of about half a day alone in each other’s company. She worried about the dynamics of it all. She wondered if being able to bounce off each other in company and being able to have the funniest, most heartfelt online chats would transcend.

She has since learnt since then that being with him was, from the very beginning, strangely natural and so very easy. She is obstinate, paranoid, and occasionally unreasonable. She is impatient, hot tempered and occasionally caustic. She is certainly far from perfect. It sparks, not because she thinks He’s perfect but rather because she likes that He isn’t. She likes his idiosyncrasies and that in these idiosyncrasies He is perfect, if only for her.

And this time it’s harder because of the promise He holds. Because this time the promise is tangible, but still just barely out of her reach. Because despite being more in control of the situation she can’t make tomorrow come any quicker. As Harry said "when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible".

So no, it’s not the post holiday blues. It’s just ice cream sans cherries.

Image courtesy of photomato on Flickr.

writer's block

She is feeling...

a little melancholic

a lot out of sorts

perhaps it's a crazy version of the post holiday blues

as Dido puts it... I still have sand in my shoes....

Image courtesy of Terrible76 on Flickr.

on empty beach benches

RINDU!

You owe me a sunset Mister

and some ice cream...

*smile*

Image courtesy of juga4ka on Flickr.

Mettle

It's going to be a spectacular explosion.

And not of the pretty firework variety.

Nauseous. Anxious. Strangely mentally calm.

Bring it.

For it is in these moments that you realise the cloth you are cut from.


Image courtesy of Paolo Mossino on Flickr.

...

* big giant heavy sigh*

the sucky thing about being grown up

is not having someone fuss over you when you're ill.

and having to drive yourself to the doctor

*wrinkles nose in distaste*

God bless my Mummy for still trying to.

Image courtesy of sesame ellis on Flickr.

feh

Today I don't want to :-

tip toe around oversized ego's

speak to clients who think they own your ass because they pay you

be considerate

be thoughtful

smile because it keeps the social fabric intact

hold my tongue

keep up pretences

Today I want to crawl into a little box and be grumpy because that's how i feel

Picture courtesy of whisKAz on Flickr.

because because

Because the sea is our place...

Because randomly, I miss you most on Fridays...

Photo courtesy of Jerri Johnson on Flickr.