I constantly battle with not looking at the past. The left brain screams “c’mon girl!” The last three months has been nothing short of amazing. If this signals the 30s, I say bring it on!
I will no longer look back because, the future is dazzling and I don’t want to miss a thing!
George, I have an ulcer. I don’t sleep well, mostly because you keep calling me at night. If you don’t call me, I dream that you’re going to call me. I think about you in the shower, not in a good way but in an “I’m so distracted I can’t remember if I washed my hair way”. So, I wash my hair twice! I have a hole in my stomach, I am running out of shampoo
The cost of my weekly language class (10 weeks) = $400
The cost of Chutney’s obedience training class (7 weeks) = $400
There is something wrong with that, isn’t there? Thankfully, I love him and I need him to learn to get over his feet fetish. REALLY.
It is a shame that my regular Monday dinner date does not share my love for all things, gold and glittery. Paperchase makes the most gorgeous cake stands. A recent kitchen debacle had me yearning for a “lazy susan”. I love my Tangerine Kitchenaid. One would say that I am already blessed and yet, I find myself lusting over a Cusinart Ice Cream Maker, well really I would much prefer one from Musso. Alas, my pockets resemble a shallow well instead of a deep abyss that it SHOULD be.
Having recently being anointed into the Shenton Way / CDB crowd, I am still feeling my way around. After spending the last couple years firmly stuck in “smart casual”, it is slightly jarring to be surrounded by suits. The “arts” geek in me is resigned to its impending doom destiny. A major pro – the food here though is impeccable, a wide selection ranging from cuisine type, food location, price range and even vegan/pescatarian friendly. Imagine that!
The price, is well somewhat expected.
roasted mushroom & tomato sandwich from The Sandwich Shop
Getting a weekday off for me, has the same frequency as an eclipse. It almost never happens and when it does, you better whip your camera out (proverbially speaking, of course) and savour the moment because, it’ll be a LONG while before another one like it will come along.
LF had the day off too and, I cajoled him into watching the first showing of the day for “He is just not that into you”. For those who are considering watching the movie after reading the book, let me help you save some money. Don’t. It is quite different from the book. For all intents and purposes, it is a feel good movie. Without giving out spoilers, half of the cast end up being the “exception” which the original book begs you not to do. You are almost NEVER the exception. Always the rule. So, why does the movie make it different? Acting wise, I could find no fault. I love Drew Berrymore who had not enough screen time, and ex-beau Justin Long did a great job of carrying the story. You can’t help a sucky script.
It was disappointing. Poor LF was giving me dagger stares for bringing him to such a poofy movie.
It feels strange being in HK. Having spent all morning trying to find the restraint not to call him, I realise that I deleted his numbers with exception of his CH mobile a while ago.
What a woman can tell with someone’s voice. It was extremely telling. Like the others, I chose to walk away.
I really have to learn to stick around.
“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
- The Mourning Bride” (1697) by William Congreve
The phone rang with an unexpected caller on the other end. It begun with curiosity and, quite expectedly the knowledge that an ex is still one and the same leopard. Offering assistance to a perfect stranger, one whom does not have the best impression of me is the only thing I can do especially when there’s an unborn at stake. What’s worse than telling a lie? Telling a lie, being caught and suffering the repressions of said lie. Makes you think long and hard about the toes you step on today, innit?
All I can say to TRS is, hang on with all you got because, it’s going to be one HELL of a bumpy ride.
Talking to J made me think of T. With much apprehension, I dial his number. Expectedly, the phone rings torturing me as it continues. Eventually, I reach T’s voicemail which I struggle to understand to, as it is in a language I barely remember much less speak.
For a moment, I consider leaving a message and realise quickly that I have over stepped my boundaries by calling.
Quickly, I place the receiver down. It is not fair to T that I want to know that he is ok. It is not fair at all. I walked out, again. As I stare down the phone for an answer, and just as suddenly I decide to try once more.
Just once more, I tell myself.
In two seconds, I am met with a familiar Parisian accent. We need to talk, please. T is living the life that he wanted for us, except I am no longer there. Is that fair? I am doing exactly what I want to do, except it is without him. Is that fair?
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