Please Let Go.

Nonsense.

I am Charlie.

Charlie I am. I do not like green eggs and ham. Ham and green cheese I like if you please, but nonetheless Charlie I am.

In the midst of all this, I feel powerless and revolted. I feel like telling everyone that this is not the human way. This is not what we were meant to do, to be, to say. I feel I would not be heard the way I want to be heard. I've heard so many disturbing things in the past 48 hours...I have heard, My Lovelies, so many hateful things. Where are we going? What are we becoming?

Where is this freedom of expression we value and cherish? I know that it is not shared by all beliefs, but should we be bashed and hurt and killed because of it? Should one's religion be powerful enough to obliterate and shadow all others? Is this what we have become? Sadly, glass-half-emptily, apparently, this is where we are at. I weep. I weep and I hope this is not where we end an all evil begins.

I am upset. My heart weeps.

Je suis Charlie.

I saw this great comic on Twitter. Jesus, Moses and Mahomet, sitting in lawn chairs side by side, cigars and wine glasses in hand for some, staring at a bomb exploding in the distance, one of them saying: "Wait - haven't we all taught them the same message?" and the two other agreeing whole-heartedly.

What hurt a lot was one of my friends posting on Facebook "Je ne suis pas Charlie". Saying that we should not show solidarity to something we are not a part of. That, my Lovelies, truly made me sad.

Embers.

In rougher times, a long while ago, My Crunchy Lovelies, I used to display an impressive array of self-defense mechanisms, sobbing episodes taking place at completely inappropriate times, and a plethora of other self-deprecating, worrisome behavior. I whined about wanting to be "free". I was unsatisfied. I wanted easy, fast, light and satisfying solutions to big problems. I was hurt, and could not emerge from my cloud of self-deprecation. I was held back. I was not in control. Thank the Pixies, there were no voices in my head (unlike today, mind you, ahem), and I was not under any kind of psychiatric supervision (nor am I today, ahem).

And now? Well! I realized something today at lunch, while eating. Lots of thing happen while you eat. I usually think. If I'm not eating alone, I attempt some form of thinking process, but listen in on my lunchmates' conversations, occasionally pitching in just to interact and be polite. It usually works. Anyway, I realized something today. It seems small, maybe, but it's a really happy realization: I am happier now!

Not to sound corny or anything, but good things DO happen. I doubted that for the longest time. I now sit in my fluffy pink cloud of freedom which smells of vanilla and feels like cotton candy, and make projects which, I hope, will come to fruition. In retrospect, a seemingly unexpected move was the best thing I've ever done. For myself. Don't get me wrong: there are still some not-so-good days, and - yes - tears sometimes, but they weigh the normal weight of emotion: not the amplified, exagerated emotional pattern I used to relish in.

So, I declare to you, oh my Tender Fluffy Numerous Readers: mission accomplished! And here the crowd roars with pleasure, happiness, has goosebumps, and claps energetically.

Thank you. *bow*

On Wondering Why.

I have been around the block too many times, at 35, to expect anything. I should know by now that when you have expectations, they are usually shattered. Not to be pessimistic, or anything.

But this time, I am hoping things will be different. I am trying to be free, to be happy, and to accept that not everybody is at the exact same spot in ‘Being’ as I am. It still hurts, though, when the person you thought was rocking your world is apparently not doing that intently or with purpose at all. What they are doing, though, is carelessly wafting through life. They have chosen (by their own admittance) to not make choices in life. They have chosen not to commit. You like their bohemian lifestyle, their carelessness. You like that they get up to go get chocolatines on Saturday morning, that they make chocolate coffee for you when you are still in bed and that their restaurant-owning neighbours have soup delivered to your door for lunch.

 

Your choice (and between the lines, mine, oh My Loverly Loverlings): to play along or to be stuck once again expecting something you feel you won’t be getting soon?  Argh. To be 20 again, and to not care about these things.

Hiatus

Greetings, my Loverlies...

You have been most patient. You always are. And I thank you for that. (Mind you, it's not like seventy-five thousand of you are awaiting my posts. Ahem.)

I have been away, as you have noticed, and have now purchased a computer, for the sole purpose of keeping you up to date! Well, not really, but take it as a compliment anyway. Yay for computers, as they enable you to have some kind of contact with the outside world, once in a while. I should not whine, though, because I've also bought an iPhone, which enabled me to also keep contact with the outside world while I was waiting to find a reasonably-priced laptop.

Quick update: I've left The Man. That's all I'm going to say for now, but fear not, my Sweets, for I am fine. I've moved out of my dreamy four-storey condo, leased an apartment, and have my two Furries with me. I have started A New Life, and am slowly getting used to it. Voilà for the update, as they say. Who are they, anyway? And why are they putting their noses into everyone's business? Just asking.Never mind.

So, a short post today, to ease you into it. I would not want to burn your retinas just yet. I've got some stuff in store, but you must be patient as you always are. To quench your parched eyes, here's some of what I did this weekend, and thanks for your patience.

Cheers! And yay! I'm skating now!

When in Doubt, Post on Thy Blog.

Campanula Lactiflora

There are many things in life which really impress me. I am, I must admit, easily impressed.

For example, everything which stirs passion in people really impresses me. You could be having dinner with me and casually state that your love of staplers has moved you to purchase, collect and organise them in order of make, model, size and colour, and I would be completely flabbergasted. Honestly, I'd be curious as to why you haven't taken to, say, collectible cars or hockey jerseys, but I'd impressed all the same. Casually having a sip of that fine wine I would have bought, I confess I would also reconsider our friendship or ever inviting you over for dinner again. I'm just saying, there are such things as sociopaths and limits. Just kidding. I don't mean to judge you, or anything.

Cool collections? Let me illustrate.A friend of mine collects iron rests. I think that is what they are called. Way back when, they used to have those on the ironing board to rest their irons on to avoid burning the board. Now we have those fancy schmancy irons which, in addition to being electric, have the useful feature which allows you to stand them up and you don't have to hold them or anything. Back to my friend's iron rests. They are magnificent! That is a collection I have the utmost respect for, because as useless as they are nowadays (unless you still use vintage iron irons just like in the olden days), they are really beautiful, add some serious curio factor to your home (because you have them lined up on a shelf or on small nails on a wall in an esthetically pleasing way), and they are an interesting conversation piece. Case in point: I've just written a whole paragraph on them and it's not even my collection. Kudos to my friend for providing me with this material to work with!

Another thing which impresses me to no end is nature. I am impressed by its raw power, and by the way mankind thinks it masters it and then gets it in the face (such as the BP spill in the Gulf of Mexico). I am taken aback by its fortitude and fragility. But on a more down to earth note, I have always wanted a backyard of my own I could lose myself in, just to be a little more in touch with nature. I think I have explained before that our backyard is shared with the other 24 units where we live, so there is no privacy, really, and decisions regarding said backyard must be voted upon by the co-owners. Luckily, I have friends who have really nice backyards, where I periodically escape.

The Man and I were at our friends' place yesterday afternoon, and they have the most beautiful yard I have ever seen. It's huge! It's got woods in the back, and a garden (which I got to water, with a huge smile on my face the whole time), and little glass lanterns hanging from a tree in the middle which also supports two hammocks. It has a dining table and a picnic table a little further. It has potted plants, hanging flowers, and lots of grass. The flowers in the gardens could be little fairy houses, and there are little fairy houses set among the flowers. They are, in fact, bird houses, but the birds have all these trees to live in and don't tend to live in houses on the ground among the flowers, especially not when there are a bunch of cats roaming around. Fairies, on the other hand, love little houses among the flowers. Or so the Pixies told me. Anyway. I was in heaven yesterday. I laid in the cool grass after a copious lunch, looked up at the leaves stirring above in the trees, walked barefoot in the moss, making a mental inventory of all the things growing, and took deep breaths with my eyes closed. It was quite literally magical.

I felt alive. And it was very, very good.

On Lamp Posts

On many a night-time walk, I have been creeped out by lamp posts suddenly turning off when I walked past them or under them. I have always taken this as some kind of sign: my mood must have been so dark or negative, I had surely caused this haze of light to extinguish. I invariably get a shiver down my spine, and try to think happy thoughts all the way to the next lamp post, to avoid turning that one off, too. To date, I have not yet made two turn off in a row. Which surely means my control over my mood is exemplary.

This has happened to me while I was walking with friends, but it has most often happened as I was alone. My most recurring happy thought usually involves Dumbledore and his Deluminator.

Tonight, however, a pleasant surprise: as I tread carefully over the ice on the path between the two buildings leading to my street, I noticed it was unusually dark. I looked up, and thought "Hmm. Burnt-out lamp post bulb." And as I finished thinking that, it turned back on.

I will take it as a sign things are looking up.

The Eye.

I do it on the bus, on the street, and also when I’m being driven around. I even do it in restaurants, at the grocery store and in my backyard. I get some perverse satisfaction from it and feel guilt at the same time. Sometimes, no one suspects I’m doing it, and I sometimes get caught. I am a people watcher.

I like to observe and imagine what fascinating/boring lives my fellow humans enjoy. I glance at what the woman on the bus reads, week after week. She pulls out a bookstore bag from her purse, which is huge, by the way – I suspect her lunch, shoes and wallet also fit in there, as well as maybe a change of clothes – and I’m always intrigued by the titles she pulls out. She was reading something by a Japanese author two weeks ago, and is now learning Sanskrit, or something that looks a lot like it. I look at the forty-something guy who looks like a movie star and wonder what’s in his i-pod. I wonder why his right arm looks like there is no muscle in it, and find him very thin and pale. Maybe he’s sick. He smokes Camels and has an Elvis do. He dresses impeccably and never smiles. He looks lonely. I sometimes feel like sitting next to him and putting a hand on his arm. Maybe he would like that and he would smile a bit.

Through the little old lady’s grocery bag, I am surprised to see she buys fair trade coffee and sun-dried tomatoes. I am also surprised when she gets on the bus and refuses every seat offered to her with a big smile and holds on for dear life, grocery bags and purse flying all over the place. She bobs her head and looks really happy. I think she knows something we don’t. She has that mischievous smile, like a five year old who’s up to no good. And she also leaves the grocery store weekdays between 7:15 and 8:00. Sometimes she has grocery bags two days in a row, sometimes she has one of these net bags with some clothes in it and no groceries.

I don’t know why I like it so much. I think of every little spy game I play as an exercise in creativity, because all by themselves, with no effort on my part, several life stories unfold before my eyes and I collect details about them. I piece together facts and learn things. I worry when the little old lady isn’t there. And relieved when she’s there the next day. I smile when I see the girl with her boyfriend on the bus, because I can tell they’re in love. When he isn’t with her on the bus and she talks to him on her cell phone, she blushes and smiles. When he is there, he has a spark in his eye (probably from all the glitter she wears, mind you) and looks at her like a shy teenager.

I wonder if someone on the bus also spies on me.

Oh – complete change of subject. The winner of my easy/lazy contest is Tortuga - she won three Squibbits! The quote was from Lord of the Rings.

Have a great weekend, my preciouses.

Recycling Spies.

As a follow up on my last post, for anyone interested, I did not finish all of my knitting projects. I finished one of them. I completely unraveled another (which was halfway done but had a very obvious mistake in it) and started two new ones. Nice going, don’t you think?

Okay, on to the topic at hand. It hit me like a brick last Wednesday: my neighbors, if they are so inclined, know me very well.

For instance, they now know that my teeth enamel needs special care, that we’ve quit smoking (ahem – again), and that our noses are sensitive, so we get the three-ply lotion tissues when we have a cold.

They also know how many kinds and boxes of tampons I go through in a month. Great to know when you meet your neighbor on a brisk evening walk – “Heeey hi, so I notice you’ve gone Super-Plus, eh? How’s that going? Cramps? Any cramps at all? No? Hah.”

They know where I bank, what periodicals I subscribe to and that we are amateurs of red wine and martinis. In fact, they know when we’ve gone on a bender and finished the bottles in the bar. They probably think we’re alcoholics by now.

Is there such a thing as recycling spies or is my lack of nicotine turning me into a paranoid wreck? A purely rhetorical question, obviously, as I already know they’re watching.

Hee hee. Just kidding.

In Style.

I took the bus home today, as usual. Unlike regular days of the week, I had a seat on the bus. So far, so good.

What I did not expect, Throng of Fans, was the guy who got on the bus one stop after me. I don’t know why, I always look at people who get on the bus with me. It’s a habit. I like observing people, it’s in my nature. I usually get away with it too, because I am very discreet. Thank the Little Pixies That Rule the World, I am discreet. So the puddle of drool pooling in my lap went unnoticed.

This guy – ohhhh this guy. I’ve always had a not-so-secret crush on the David Usher type, and this pinstripe-suit, awesome tie, briefcase-carrying babe was it. We both sported rings on our left hand ringfingers, but I swear if I hadn’t, I would have slipped him my card. Oh yes. Heehee. Oh – sorry – I’m giggling.

Okay, enough.

I am back, as you might have noticed, after quite a break. I hope you didn’t give up on me…I had a very relaxing two-week getaway and made the most of it. To me, a holiday that includes family, friends, a lake, Uno, Mille Bornes, good food and drink, a fire & marshmallows is a pretty awesome holiday. Yummy. I rest my case.

And now, a first. A poll! I am allowing ten days for you Monkeys to post your answers in the comments. I'll let you know the results, I promise.

Question: Why did the chicken cross the road?

a. To hit on the hot girl chicken on the other side;
b. This side of the road had become boring;
c. To ogle the 1969 Z28 Camaro on the other side;
d. To slip his card to the hot business guy with the pinstripe suit and the tie and the briefcase.

Hands off, Chicken.

Me.

Cute, no? I admit I wear less makeup, depending on the occasion. Also, the little bag is an accessory I do not actually own. But I'd like to. But I don't.

Other differences: my eyes are not that big proportionately to my head. I very rarely wear tops that show off my midriff and...Boo is not all brown with a little white bib. He's a little tiger.

Resemblences with the real me: the hair (sort of) and the black clothing.

In fact, this looks nothing like me.

Have a great Sunday, everyone.

Starting.

We are now seven years into what, as a child, I used to call The Future. To me, anything beyond the year 2000 meant flying cars and metal wands to heal wounds and food in the form of colored pellets. Seven years into the future. Sounds pretty cool, doesn’t it? Or maybe I’m just too much of a sci-fi fan. Imagine how much I loved Back to the Future. Man, was that a cool movie or what.

Seven years into the future, then, and I have many things to show for it. And the past year has now gone up in smoke. It went by so fast, obviously. I have been dreading writing this post as I was telling K the other day, because I don’t feel I had a particularly great year. I can sum it up in a few sentences, as I have discovered, but I feel it would rob all the significant things that happened, good or bad, of their significance. I need to rest on 2006 for a little while longer and mull it over. So rather than do a retrospective of 2006, I’ll follow K’s suggestion and make my list of resolutions for 2007. Sure, it’s already 3 days in, but it’s never too late to make resolutions you know you won’t keep anyway. Hmmm. In your face, Little Person In My Head. (Little Person has been bitching the last couple of days, because nothing was done around the house. I had decided to take a holiday. She’s now very upset because she is dousing me with lingering doubt and remorse over not having kept my resolutions and I keep telling her she can go to hell and suck my big fat….popsicle.) Okay, we need a title, here. Something not too pompous. Ah!

The 2007 List of Resolutions That Will Not Be Kept by Me (and probably a bunch of other people):

1. Take good care of myself. That means eating well (which I already do), getting some exercise (which…I totally already do…ahem.) and generally not being a couch potato. (Note to self: develop method for knitting in sleep or while running. Consider cost of hiring little monkey to do knitting.)
2. Do the dishes every evening (wait – when we bought this house, wasn’t there talk of a dishwasher?)
3. Read good books. (Brigitte, ball’s in your court. Hit me.)
4. Count fingers every day to make sure they’re all there. Wait – that doesn’t sound right. Ah! I meant count my blessings every day to make sure they’re all accounted for.

That’s it! Eureka moment. That’s what I want to do this year, is count my blessings. So little people do it. Well, I shouldn’t put it that way – I should specify that lately, I have been attracting people who like to complain about everything. Even good things. Good things are never quite perfect enough. There’s always that tiny something that takes the shine off anything. You wanted a red car? You saved up for years and bought the red car? You’re happy parading around in the shiny red car? Good. Focus on that. Not on the disappointment you are feeling because you could not get the $1500 mags to go with it, you know what I mean?

Throng of Readers, prepare for my onslaught of shameless, wide-slashing generalizations of what human beings are like. Okay, maybe not. I’ll upset people. So Throng of Readers, look around you. I’ll wait.

Where are you? In your home, in the ‘office’? At work? Internet café? Some coffee place with your laptop? What do you see? You see things that are on some shelf, on a table, in a bag. Clothes, cars, phones. Things that are material. You also see people’s faces, maybe. Some are happy, some aren’t. Some look miserable, but it’s just to attract attention. Others look happy, but their faces hide repressed sadness. Some just look blank.

Now look a little deeper, scratch right past the first couple of levels your eyes can adjust to, you may see decisions you’ve made, friends you have, smiles you’ve given and have received, things that were said in confidence, foreheads you’ve kissed, surprises that were planned, laughs shared, hands you’ve held, and promises you have kept. It’s that deeper look I want to be able to take as often as possible, just to remind myself that no, not everything is beautiful and pink and fuzzy. But things certainly are better when you look at them from a certain angle.

I wish all of you a happy, healthy, insightful and creative New Year, from the bottom of my heart.