Mind Whack

I haven’t been producing good postings. This writer’s block with lack of sleep and annoyance that result bothersome attitude just trying to keep awake. It becomes a mean cycle that brings to being mean. Yes, I agree. I suck too. Meddle in the muddle.

So I have been cooking. Penne carbonaras that bothers my dad because he says penne makes him feel he’s eating air unlike non-straw like other pasta types. Then fried brinjal in chili. Pizzas using base of sliced bread.

What I didn’t was how a lasagna could reveal another degree dimension of me in the kitchen. The lasagna that I was so tired when making it, bridging with giving up and ugly cry + throwing everything to hit everything else in the kitchen. Of course I didn’t do it. Although I visually could see it clearly going in slow motion as my brother quips, “Yeay, lasagna!” I was mentally doing it. You know, throwing all wooden spoons and whisks. It was a very difficult and emotional process for me.

James Arthur’s Say You Won’t Let Go is playing. It makes me feel I’m walking in a dress, denim jacket and cowboy boots walking hand in hand with him in the park entering autumn. It’s so front page of 90’s Teen Magazine. All adverts on Keds, daisies and smiley floral dresses. My imagination is constantly in fall. The mix of tenderness in green, floral remnants and brown. I easily identify with it I suppose. I was born in fall.

It’s still a long way to where my mind brings me to be made into reality, but it’s okay. Time will tell. If not now, then maybe very much later.

Oh by the way, we went out last night and I did hear something drop when we got to the house. I settled in getting things in and making me coffee with aching heel and feet. Then I couldn’t find my phone. It got me grumpy when non of the kids owned up. How hard could it be to put my feet up in the foyer with a mug of hot coffee and cigarettes while playing Rising Super Chef 2? Tell me, how hard? HOW HARD? Life is hard. Times are hard. ((HUGS))

Well, obviously I had to walk around the house to find them too a few times. Like, I’ve asked them and they said no but they’re kids so what do they know. Interrogate them we must! Then made them call the phone – the line was dead, so great – yeay! Walked upstairs and downstairs and inside and out from the kitchen to the yard. Checked the car twice. With aching heel and feet. I couldn’t find it. I even took out garbage from within the car.

“Mom, I think I heard something drop in the car. It could be it you know”.

I went, “Pfffft… I checked the car and it’s not there!” while internally going through an ugly cry. I’m a bad mom. I don’t care. Who cares about my aching feet anyhow?

Then DH said, “I think it did probably fall in the car, hon; just like Adam said.” Pfffft. To both of them.

So I went back to car. Slowly. Like the slowest sci-fi movie you’ve ever watched. Yes, sci-fi. Reached out my hand in the side pocket of the passenger seat in darkness. Cosily it had been sitting there for the longest time. Just playing hide and seek. You know, I don’t like playing that game. Especially not at night. But what does it know, right?

Well of course the screaming died down. No one bothered to ask if I had found it. I guess it was obvious that I had found it because the screaming stopped completely. Right? And who would in their right mind want to try and ask if I did find it, being at risk of being screamed at if I still had not found it. Right?

Oh my I’m so completely whack… Haha.

So, I’ve got some tiny bit of work left before the weekend. Paid some bills and sorted my brain. Woke up late but got here not in time with some excuse of having family matter that I just had to attend to.

For some reason I feel refreshed and need to put a photo of fuchsia roses in this post. Lovely photo. I hope you feel the same way too.

Invigorating.

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The Daily Post Prompts | Imaginary | Distant | Tender | Revelation | Triumph | Puncture | Create | Blossom | Relieved | Meddle | Loop

Mind Whack

Prettier gardens

I am trying to find a sense of sustainability for the center of me. It is a steep, trashy, muddy road. Always find mine sluggish. Quicksand that I miraculously just stand over and not get sucked into the earth. I punish myself sometimes. Reprieve as I go. It is a cycle.

Life turns itself slowly especially with a struggle because you need to learn to leap blindly in faith that you will be okay. It scares the sh*t out of me. Something out of balance although prominently enough inside I know I need to trust myself that life isn’t monotonous, IT IS going somewhere. Only I am so stubborn to notice, acknowledge and move.

Roads need to be paved to be made into highways.

~ momsthetruth ~

It is clearer destination that I see. It is going somewhere. Words spoken are without jagged fences of defensiveness. More like flowers edging the boundaries. I receive them, and help to make the gardens organised. Prettier. With a flow. Rainbow explosions.

Maybe we can build a house in the meadow.

I only hope the garden will flourish. One day it will have an orchard of fruits and horses and cats. One day.

Survive | Reprieve | Infuse | Radiate | Detonate

Edit: Redundancy of sentence.

Prettier gardens

Mind Afloat

Her life now is practically just ferrying the kids for classes and extra classes, work and swimming. She is keeping low for now as she don’t have much to spend on. This is why her trips to the supermarket is so cherished that she takes time to inhale all the colours and the need to caress with her eyes on all the fresh food and fruits there is.

It is a practically better lifestyle than she has had before; when she had more money to spend on. She would be propped at the shopping mall every other weekend and spending on lunch, tea or dinner whether or not she bought anything there. The exposure is more on all the in-trend things and nice-to-haves. Yes, it all sounds great, but she realizes that not having much has kept her more grounded than before.

The kids were most exposed to things that they shouldn’t be celebrating about. Now, it’s more about, “Have you gone up trekking that hill yet?” or “Let’s see if this can work out as a game” or pushing her to bring them swimming even at her lowest point of sadness. They are aware of what they are able to afford. Swimming doesn’t need anything. They only have to bring their own biscuits and fun.

Sadness that she has. She wants to change it to become something else. Inwardly planning a holiday in her head that she wants to give them.

It will happen, she knows it. Once in forty times you pray for it, it will come true.

She only knows that she will make it happen. Even if it takes more time than she’d like to.

Mind Afloat

Memories of Yarns and Blankets

Sometimes in the back of my head, I’m rooted back to the gray.

I blanket myself from hurt, to grace with inner strength instead. There are days when the brain pulls out a memory or two that intertwines and make sense, bringing out the pain that happened in the past, to now. Yes, it is unfair. It is unfair to me. If I was totally knackered then, how even more when it’s on repeat? Why can’t it just be black and white? I want to bridge that memory to be laid safely in the ‘Box of Life’s Journey – Done’ and lace them with perfume and countless yarn designs.

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Each memory is never bitter. There is sweetness in each awakening. There are tears of joy, hurt, regret and hopefulness. Some emotions outweigh the positive ones in some stories.

I was life’s apprentice; and I still am, where I hope to graduate with grace.

Memories of Yarns and Blankets

Glides and Glimmer

I am a small fry

Smaller that you think I think of my self

You can see me clear sometimes, this invisible me

Disappearing in the background of stories onto walls and gardens

Hijacking the breeze, the scents, the touch

Glides and glimmer of feel and observation

If only you know how I really feel

If only I can tell you

But words themselves disappear with me, for I can only

Glides and Glimmer

Three Little Trinkets

I have decided to name my kids in here, although the names are changed for more reason that I don’t want them to find out about this blog (and how selfish is that) hahahahaha.

Harris is my eldest and turning 14 this year. He is petite and still boyish that I feel good about because truthfully I still can’t come to terms of him having darkening upper lip hair and slowly deepening voice. I was telling a friend that I keep catching him scratching his crotch with me half yelling asking him to wash it properly. But he’s so Libra. He doesn’t f*cking care. “I wash them… they just itch!” and continues scratching in front of me with the odour of smelly armpits swimming at me.

She said, “Maybe his pubic hair is growing?” | NOOOOOO!!!! >>> Me – Panic attack!

Then Elliot is the most sensitive to my feelings. He’s Mr Leo turning 11 in August. Sometimes when he sees me zoned out, he’d come and put his arms over my shoulders with asking me to chin up to him, “Mommy, are you stressed out/sad? It’s okay. I’m here,” and gently pats my shoulder.

Just a few days ago, I caught him staring at me from the side. “Oh Mommy, you’re skin is looking beautiful right now,” he said. Like, are you kidding me son, coz my face is semi pimpled with freckles and hair. I went blurry with a, “What?” “You look beautiful Mom. Why, don’t you believe me?” “My face is full of spots hun. Nothing pretty about that.” “It’s beautiful now, then what term should I use then when the fact is it’s beautiful?” (Awwwww…)

So then there’s Tallulah, my still 8 years old cheeky Scorpion.  She’s the binder for all of us. Also my time manager. She bosses me when I’m late in the most diplomatic way, “Mommy, maybe you don’t have to put on makeup. We’re only going there for a short while right? A bit of lipstick will do just fine.” Or, “Mom, you’ll be late for work if you don’t shower now. Go go.” Or she will plan my travel route when my brain is a half baked potato.

And I suddenly miss them all writing this. Hmm. I’m so PMS-y.

Three Little Trinkets