- there are signs that inform you that Mr XX no longer lives in Y unit so please stop peeing at the corridor and pasting unpleasant messages
- the “sea view” is really just of the tops of flats and perhaps the faint outline of oil refineries in the background
- the place has apparently undergone 300% renovation
I was in a crabby mood yesterday. You know, that kind of mood where you feel mildly uncomfortable in your own skin, and for some strange reason, you crave to do some form of extreme sport, just so you can get out of your skin for a while and ventilate your soul a bit? (Ok, um, if you don’t know, never mind.)
So yes, I was crabby, despite being spoilt rotten. Steve (my favourite restauranteur from Broth), for absolutely no reason at all except that he is a kind and sweet soul, prepared a gourmet picnic for us - the menu as follows: 1) Baby spinach and portobello mushroom salad with raspberry vinaigrette, crab meat and avocado (pic above) 2) Fresh ricotta ravioli with fresh herbs and salmon caviar 3) Chocolate banana cake and muscato jelly. Totally underserving, to be bestowed the best picnic of my life, and yet I was grumpy as hell.
Nate (whom, may I clarify, is not my baby, but the offspring of funky mama Maye-e who knows that little people make me giggle) best encapsulates my general state of being:
I hope I snap out of it soon.
When I took Kimmy for a walk today, I counted the number of houses being ripped apart within that small radius of my pooch’s regular route. Five. The roads are dusty, there are huge trucks bearing all kinds of sinus-inducing mountains of sand/cement/powdery stuff, the makeshift workers’ quarters for each of these sites are barely decent and I don’t think there are proper toilets, because there are smells coming from some of the in-progress houses I pass by. It is so strange, to have these atrocious conditions exist because some people are gettin’ rich and want a nice spanking house quick to show they are loaded. I think one reason why I don’t like the pounding and clanging on weekends is because it invariably points to the uglier side of this booming property market.
In any case, we are moving out of this place we’ve called home for around 14 years. For the last few weeks, we’ve been at the mercy of some rather psychologically manipulative property agents. It’s like one huge snatchfest out there, and it seems like there are some really vicious home seekers around. I hope interaction with both these groups of people will be minimized soon. *shudder*
“If you really want to hurt your parents, and you don’t have the nerve
to be a homosexual, the least you can do is go into the arts.”
When the last living thing
has died on account of us,
how poetical it would be
if Earth could say,
in a voice floating up
perhaps
from the floor
of the Grand Canyon,
“It is done.”
People did not like it here.
A mandatory team-building thing a few days ago got me thinking about the issue of fitting in again.
The thoughts: Must. Resist. (Re: groupthink)
Ever since we leaked the good news, I’ve been quite overwhelmed with a highly contrasting spectrum of good-willed advice and I have to admit, my state of mind is just muggy right now. Alas, my real-life resistance is not as good as my steely will to sit back from ridiculous totem pole game.
Must. Resist.
Disclaimer: Not that I don’t appreciate the wise nuggets of info (which are much better than Her World Brides, might I add). Just need some quiet time to reflect and digest before the next round of questions/suggestions.
I am tiring of taking so much medicine the last few weeks. My health has really been not that great, and it’s about time I take more responsibility for this body I’m in.
So the other day, I decided to do a round of foot reflexology because I do believe the pain inflicted psychologically does make me feel better, on pretext of my qi being unclogged. The Uncle Foot Reflexologer was this philosophical uncle, who besides telling me to drink more water (they ALL tell you that), told me that he has all the rich expat clients who go to him and have everything they need in life but their body system is all messed up because they are intrinsically very unhappy and insecure. I thought that was worth noting.
I am also attempting to go vegetarian, something I’ve always weakly resolved to do but now know I have to do something about for the long-term, as advised by doctors. So am trying to do the gradual weaning off, by eating a lot more fish these days, and trying to fill up with greens though I’m not too crazy about being a cow. I am telling myself, maybe meaty meals just occasionally, like once a month. Yes, really.
Once I’m back on my feet, I will go back to the gym. I will spend more time with nature. I will write in my diary more often. I will talk to people I trust and not keep everything to myself. I will do a silent retreat this year with Sister Helen.
This is not about a hippy yuppie/alternative lifestyle I’m trying to adopt - but from the latest life lesson learnt - to take care of what has been given to me the best way I can.
