The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space.
~ Marilyn Monroe
We’re getting toward the pointy end of things with something at the office… so forgive me if all I can manage at this time is a gratuitous shot (or two) of my favourite flowers. It was a toss-up between these orchids and something I ate last Saturday at my favourite restaurant. I thought most people would prefer this. Maybe I’ll post the fish dish tomorrow. Ha.
Seriously, I love the perfection of orchids. If only life could be as vibrant, fresh and lush all the time. But no, for most of us, it’s something like once or twice a year, only when we’re on holidays. Most of the time, it’s more likely a case of feeling sub-par, sleep-deprived, a lot less than awesome.
*I’ve just noticed that the band is playing locally on 20 July. I must get back from New York City in time for this. I must-!
Sometimes life is about knowing when to simply keep on walking.
Walk on, even when your heart is telling you to stop. (Why keep going? Can’t we go back to where we were at the start?) When your mind is questioning your decision to put one foot in front of the other, and the other, again, again, again… Keep going. There you go.
When will you know that you’ve gone far enough…? When it stops hurting?
This post is dedicated to [ x ].
We are all products of our parents, family, friends, experiences, and of the life that surround us – the good, the bad, the unimaginable.
Not everyone is fortunate enough to have people who love and care for them.
I always remind myself: don’t judge a person until you’ve walked a mile in his/her boots.
The other day, I found myself thinking that people probably stay together because it’s much easier than breaking up – especially after a long time.
But for those of us who are actually happy being part of a twosome, togetherness is the best feeling.
I worry about being the one who doesn’t die first.
I am much too negative for my own good sometimes.
Listening: You’re My Rescue by Van She
It’s been just over an hour since I took this photo, and it’s turned to ‘white-out’. I can’t see anything – the buildings nor even the horizon – from where I’m sitting right now.
All night, I heard the wind howling around the sides of the apartment building, and things rattling. I woke several times feeling the cold, but I hate socks; I’m not going to put them on until I absolutely have to…
Life is like this: you’re either the person who always feels the cold, or the person who tends to feel warm more than is comfortable. You either like dogs or cats, one animal more than the other. You like summer holidays or winter ones. Your go-to drink is either beer or wine. Oysters or I-couldn’t-swallow-that-not-even-if-you-paid-me. Babies or no-thank-you. Dresses or trousers, always (I mean this in a girl sense, but, hey, if you’re a fella who fancies frocks, who am I to say?). Sleep-ins or never, not even Sundays. Slow [down] or fast, everything. Happy endings or hey-shit-happens.
I’m rambling now. I’m the person who always feels the cold. All the rest, feel free to guess.
I don’t want to find somewhere new so much as be elsewhere. I’d be quite happy to be in a familiar place.
That said, perhaps what I really want is Quality Sleep for more than six hours a night. Why is it so difficult to achieve recently?
I think I’d be quite able to see things in a different light.
Thoughts on places, and by that, I mean life’s journey itself, percolating in my head. We don’t always take the straightest route, do we? And when do we know when to stop moving, that we’ve arrived at our destination? When it’s OK to stop… sit… enjoy… snooze.
Listening: Elvis by The Rubens
When I was younger I used to be contrarian just for the hell of it. Falling in love with girls because society said it wasn’t the ‘norm’ (in those days). Downing Frangelico in the morning with my best friend before he went to bed after the night shift and heading to uni. Not believing in marriage or having children.
Then I went through a phase of doing everything everyone else was doing because it was what they were all doing, without much thought as to whether it was what I wanted. (Best not to elaborate here.) It was simply easier to go with the flow. I am married, although I hold fast to the notion of not being the breeding kind.
… Now I find myself wanting to do some things differently because they actually feel right for me, right here and now.
It’s like someone has flipped the page upside down, and it doesn’t look strange at all. I’d like to see if I can work with this for a while longer.
Listening: Bombay Bicycle Club ~ What You Want
I really wanted to post something about an hour ago, but various factors conspired against me – I.T. issues mainly, first work-related, now seemingly WordPress website-related (I’ve had to resort to using the iPad app) – that I’m now over it.
Even these bright festive lanterns I snapped in Chinatown earlier can’t shake my black mood. (I’m really annoyed with the work I.T. issue, frankly. I was seriously considering heading back to the office an hour ago, it was about 20:15, but I realised how ridiculous that was. But it means I can’t deliver something until the morning, and I know I’ll get grief about it. So I suppose now is the appropriate time to remind myself that in years to come, when I’m on my deathbed, I won’t be fretting about how I should’ve got myself bent out of shape about work stuff over which I had no control. Right?!)
A bit of escapism this Tuesday evening via the latest issue of Harper’s Bazaar (Australia) and my earworm album of the week, Birds of Tokyo‘s March Fires. Track two, This Fire, especially (humour me, LISTEN to it!). Although clearly of the ‘now’, the song transports me to a certain time in my life when I was stuck in Perth for three months when I was supposed to be in London, and my friends used to drop by in the afternoon, with ice-cream sundaes from Macca’s, and we would ride around in J’s jeep, and I really didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life but somehow it didn’t matter.
Now I still don’t know what I want to do with my life and it does matter. I’ve been thinking about this lately because of a couple of developments at the office which has planted that pesky seed of wondering, “What if…?”
Do you ever feel that way?
When I was in Perth a month ago, I went to Kings Park one morning. Despite having lived in Perth for about a decade when I was younger, I don’t think I’ve been to Kings Park more than a handful of times. Seems odd now that I think about it. Besides being a beautiful place, it also boasts some stunning views of Perth. It’s one of those places that fills me with that Good to be Alive! feeling. I think a lot of that is related to the trees. The ones you see above, on Fraser Avenue, stand tall and majestic, having been planted in 1929. (Yes, I am a nerd who reads plaques. I also like to wait until the credits have finished rolling before I depart a cinema.)
I walked past the woman sitting in the shade (bottom left corner of the photo) a couple of times. Was it the headscarf over the bald head, her thinness, or her frail demeanour as she balanced somewhat precariously on her stationary walking frame, that gave her away? Further along was the white hospital van, with the driver/attendant waiting patiently.
I couldn’t help but think back to this time last year.
Yes, it’s almost a year since the cancer claimed my dad.
I managed to race out of the office as it nudged 9pm tonight. I’d missed the day.
Just as well I’d caught this sunset a few days ago.
Even days afterward, right now, I’m tired and over it, but I can’t forget how that sunset filled the apartment with red and gold, and for a brief moment, I believed in Something.
I need a burst of something bright this morning. (I promise, the colour wasn’t photoshopped, nor did I use a flash with these beautiful specimens.)
Received a mild remonstration from the Hub when I returned from my treadmill session this morning for waking up “in the middle of the night” to exercise. It was 5:30! Hardly the middle of the night.
It’s been an immensely long and challenging week. I had dinner with a cousin and her son on Tuesday – they were visiting from Perth – and was explaining that of late, 12-hour days have been the norm. “But you like your job, don’t you?” she asked, “I suppose that makes it tolerable.”
I said yes, but after yesterday I really wasn’t too sure any more.
…But my point is, if I don’t get up at 5:30 to fit in the exercise, it’s hard to find any other time in the day. I think it’s the norm for lots of us.
But the good news is: it’s almost the long weekend.
There are weeks when you all you can do is walk, keep walking. Hopefully, it’s through the park with the whiff of springtime in the air.
I had a nice surprise when I discovered my sister had mentioned me in a recent post. I try not to think about missing my family too much. But I do. If I indulged that thought, I would struggle, much more than I already do with being my Perth-based family’s lone satellite in Sydney.
Two cups of tea, one coffee, idly flick(r)ing through my photographs… and this one which is months old.
I’ve just now noticed the sign in the window – do you see it? -ONE WAY JESUS. That’s the problem really, isn’t it? Life’s just not that neat, it’s not always one way. More often than not, it’s many ways, this, that, the other. And all at the same time. One way doesn’t work. No matter how much you may want it to…
This year, a bit of upheaval in my/our group of friends. We’re not spending time together like we used to do. A combination of things: someone got married a few months ago (and the marriage is already on the rocks); we’re all working too hard and not partying; a couple of us had a bust-up (can ‘irreconcilable differences’ apply to friendship?). I won’t go on…
Sometimes, I find myself admiring the art magic’d by my friend, T. -it hangs in my living room-, and I am reminded that we all grow up, priorities change, and sometimes we don’t see our old friends for years. But the memories make things OK somehow. I also remember that there was a time when things weren’t so awesome between us, T. and I, but we righted things, and so now I’m hopeful that our little group will sort itself out, too, in time.
For some, reminiscing is accompanied by wistfulness, sadness; for others, it makes us smile, ever so faintly. (T., I’m smiling because I’m remembering a fun-filled, vodka-soaked, night in Melbourne years ago… Do you remember it? I can’t decide if it’s amusement or gratitude but it’s enough.)