Memories of weekends past

Oh no, neglected again.

I really do mean to. Even have things written out on paper and all but somehow can’t bring myself to actually post.

So anyway, it’s the start of another week with the promise that it will be yet another long drawn out one. Sometimes the only way to deal when you try but are unable to take a day at a time is to temper the dread by focusing on things to look forward to. Time warped weekends tucked away in the seclusion of two, is what carries me through the weekday. Indeed, what would I do without you?

Last weekend felt strangely…lengthy. Normally the precious two days zip by in such a blinding flash leaving me unsatiated and hankering for more by the always-depressing Sunday night. But this time it was different. I can’t put my finger on as to why. And apart from the hitches: mood swings (my fault as usual) & sleep interrupted by work-worry, I still feel it was one of our better weekends and I can’t wait for the next.

(We really, really must stop discussing things till the wee hours of Monday morning! Oh, but how difficult it’ll be because I do so love the ‘discussing’ and feel loathe to stop even if we pay dearly for the rest of the day :)

Feeling blah

I sit here (im)patiently waiting for him to return and gnawing at my lip trying to think of something to write.

I think I need to be much more careful with work matters. No, I don’t think, I have to. It’s just so easy to slip into apathy and disinterest when there are no pressing deadlines as motivating factors. That and the little persistent voice at the back of my head that says “this can’t be it forever and ever”.

In other news, am going back home this weekend, something I haven’t done for the longest time for personal reasons I’m well acquainted with. I’m not looking forward to it because I already know that it is going to be an exhausting exercise in damage control. I can also predict that I will be losing my temper and cool before long. It’s the result of thinking/hoping/wishing that the world could revolve only around the two of us. That’s not true for me though, the outside world intrudes and makes demands. And the result? Alternating guilt and anger.

There has to be something to look forward to. Hm. A sweet chocolate-y dessert should be an effective stopgap measure :P

(Hurry up hun! ;)

It really is just a stupid movie

I need to work out why I’m so angry. It’s just a stupid movie. But there’s a reason. I know there is.

……think, think.

It’s about responsibility. About doing the right thing no matter what. It doesn’t matter if you don’t really love her. If you’re still with her, then you stand by her: NO. MATTER. WHAT. Especially those times when she’s not at her most charming best. When she makes a faux pas. When she makes a mistake and embarrasses herself and you in the process. That’s when she needs you most, that’s when you prove that you’re around not just for the good times but for all times. You don’t run after the most accessible skirt around the moment you hit a rough patch. And even if you wanted to, at least show her a little respect and have the decency to end it first before you do so. (Oh, and yeah, it works both ways)

I have often debated this scenario to myself. What happens if while in a relationship, you meet someone else whom you unintentionally develop feelings for (yes, I do believe it is possible). Logic tells me that the right thing to do would be:

1. To NOT encourage/cultivate the other ‘friendship’
2. and while doing 1, try you best to figure out if you really do love your partner, if you want to make it work and if you do want to keep the relationship. (And by this I do not mean comparing the two even though that would be the instinctual response)

Easier said than done?

I suspect so, and I hope I never have to find out.

The Other

I know.

I haven’t written in a while. This is fast becoming the norm. Increasingly, it seems that the only reason I even write is to either assuage some kind of misplaced guilt or because I had nothing else to do. This was never my original intention.

And here I sit actually seriously considering starting another blog. Completely anonymous, not semi, like this one is. No editing. No mulling over grammar and phrasing, over whether a sentence is catchy enough, whether there’s an attention grabbing heading and if the closing is suitably graceful. Just free ranting - a faithful regurgitation so to speak. In fact I already have a name for it. I found it apt.

Yes, I realize even writing about it here instead of quietly going about my business is evidence of my ego. Yes, I have considered if this ego of mine could handle complete anonymity and the almost absolute certainty that no one would ever stumble across it or even care to stay. But this is the way I figure it will work: This space is for attention, and the other will be an outlet for the dissonance that would otherwise clutter, muddle and weigh down. It doesn’t mean whatever’s written here is put on, just that it is for the palatable and (marginally) less self-indulgent material, otherwise called my ‘good’ side. Admittedly, every once in a while this space is also used as a means to reach a select audience. I just hope I can keep the dividing line clear.

(and yes, bad as it is, this piece was actually edited!)


“..and by this we shall know that she has reached bottom and what more, is scraping away at her empty barrel.”

Perfection is overrated

(…..spoken like a true sore loser :)

You know what I wish sometimes?

That I was this cool, calm, collected, perfectly put together young lady. The very image that in one breath speaks of the effort put into it but at the same time is carried so effortlessly and with such amazing grace.

Instead my modus operandi is more aptly described as “scruffy” than anything else. You see, I’m the casualty of one too many “Why bother’s?” which usually follows swiftly after “I have nothing to wear!” and “Oh God I’m late!”. Once in a long while though I do force myself to try and expand some energy into this area. However the fleeting results from these sporadic attempts and the intimate knowledge of my makeup ensures that nothing has changed and sad to say, nor will it ever change.

Ah well, but I can dream....and secretly hate those rare women who can pull off this feat.