Being thankful is being sincere to oneself. Be nice. Your heart will be at peace.

I have lists to do.

But before that:

  1. I left my phone at home. Accidentally. However I am thankful that I still can message through Web WhatsApp.
  2. My boss gave me some fruit plant from her hometown. I should be thankful for this too because she is stingy and frugal.
  3. Had mushroom soup and toast bread for breakfast. Never too early for mushroom soup. I think I may want to make beef stew for whatever this week. Lasagna would be nice too. But it’s too much work for this lazy person.
  4. I was stuck in a jam that was 10 minutes moving as much as 5 meters this morning. Then stop. Then an inch. I was lucky to be able to u-turn and got to the office through the back road.
  5. There is makeup on my face today. Just because I feel like it.
  6. My watch is in timeless mode. So I tried to look for DH’s to use. Apparently all 3 (including mine) has departed. I am timeless.
  7. I got Davidoff Cafe Grande Cuvee Rich Aroma trial pack. Actually it was my mom who got it for free. So I am hanging on to every sip of it twice a day. It is the only thing that makes any sense.

Lists help to organize my brain. Sometimes it’s no longer cluttered. But it needs just a little bit of tidy. Nothing’s done in a jiffy. Not for me. I take time. Longer time than others take to do things. Although I’m pretty clean going when I’m in the kitchen so that kind of longer time pays beautiful bonuses when you are clean as you go.

I must tell you that for the past 4 weeks, it has been quite challenging for me. I have been working late for almost that long of duration, leaving on an average of 6.30PM-7.00PM. The constant heat glaring sun and suddenly the raining all day long for many days. The menses. Prickle emotion roller coaster. Sudden pitfall in logic and purview. The falling asleep at odd hours, odd positions – just odd.

And so I have been adapting myself to writing lists again. I don’t know why I refuse to do it, like, why I stopped. But then again I do weird things to myself. Self-obstruct in endless monotonous giddy carousel. Life seems to be more orderly. I get things done. I ask of myself not to be forgetful. I must instill care again. I used to be able to memorize numbers when hearing them once. But I was emotionally hurt and stopped caring. Stopped wanting to allow this big heart open to help people. It was raided and so I no longer can deliver even for myself.

Blog postings have helped me through the years. There were times when I paused. There were times I over vomit all so many times in a day. Days where I chuck myself in a bubble wrap in the corner of the room emotionally that the only way to communicate is flowing it out into the world wide web. Bubble wrap. It’s always fun when playing alone with it. But keeping it to just yourself cuts you away from life. When you share, you might be helping someone else; then you will feel purpose and bring yourself out.

No one can help you, unless you yourself want to.

I am counting blessings today. During a rainy day where pots of mushroom soup and beef stew would be so comforting.

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

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.

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.

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.

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