Courtesy – www.toothpastefordinner.com – for getting me through boring work days.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
FW:
I've realised that I’m too messed up to be in any sort of relationship. One needs to have a lot of patience and time to even consider me as a “better half”. I’m demanding, possessive and a tad insecure. And if one gives me reason to be any of the above in excess – God help them.
I’ve decided this, whatever I am so called into, vis-à-vis my previous post, isn’t a major relationship – I’m talking long term. Cause if it were one would try and calm me down about issues I have with stick figures.
I’m treating this undefined thing, like a fling. I like flings. I am good at flings. I’m old enough to have a couple of flings. And if I define it like a fling – I become less messed up in my head. This is a good thing. It’s psychology.
I’ve realised I am the jealous type. And the more I try and hide it, the more it eats me up inside. So if I have murderous feelings towards more than one woman – I’m going to show it. So the man in question better deal.
I’ve realised that it is in my best interest to keep myself happy and free of stress. And if that means I am never getting married, having a relationship and a family and ending up living alone with cats and a bitter disposition, so be it.
I have concluded that I am an attractive woman. As Maya Angelou would put it, a phenomenal woman, and if I am to emanate this belief, I have to believe it first.
Lastly I have realised that this post is turning out to be one of those “I’ve realised” forwards that circulate the net. So I’m going to stop.
I’ve decided this, whatever I am so called into, vis-à-vis my previous post, isn’t a major relationship – I’m talking long term. Cause if it were one would try and calm me down about issues I have with stick figures.
I’m treating this undefined thing, like a fling. I like flings. I am good at flings. I’m old enough to have a couple of flings. And if I define it like a fling – I become less messed up in my head. This is a good thing. It’s psychology.
I’ve realised I am the jealous type. And the more I try and hide it, the more it eats me up inside. So if I have murderous feelings towards more than one woman – I’m going to show it. So the man in question better deal.
I’ve realised that it is in my best interest to keep myself happy and free of stress. And if that means I am never getting married, having a relationship and a family and ending up living alone with cats and a bitter disposition, so be it.
I have concluded that I am an attractive woman. As Maya Angelou would put it, a phenomenal woman, and if I am to emanate this belief, I have to believe it first.
Lastly I have realised that this post is turning out to be one of those “I’ve realised” forwards that circulate the net. So I’m going to stop.
Monday, January 08, 2007
in other news...
I’m kinda, sorta, maybe, not-too-sure, perhaps, possibly seeing someone.
We met in December 2006 – which was still the “good” year technically, so I’m a little relieved about that bit. But we are “getting into something” in the New Year – which is scaring the beejeesus out of me – cause of my super superstitious odd-numbered-bad-year-luck thing.
I have met everyone that is possibly close to him from his parents to his dogs to his building’s watchman and he has met no one of mine. This is fine by me, because the whole “meeting the parents” bit freaks me out a little.
Now, I have been single and mingling, with no good results, for the better part of two and a half years. And suddenly, bam, I find myself in a relationship quandary.
We call each other, he cares about where I am, we go out and his arm is around me, His hand reaches for mine in a crowded club, I’m the one he calls before he goes to bed, I’m the one he messages in the morning and I’m the one who gets to sit in the front seat of his car.
This is all new. It’s all good, but it’s all new. And I am baffled. As if I did not think enough. My mind is now on overdrive. I’m constantly preparing myself for inevitable disaster.
The day before yesterday was supposed to be the day he’d walk up to me and say whatever this is, it’s over. Yesterday was the day he was supposed to call me and tell me that he’s met someone, or that his ex is back in the picture. Today was the day he just gives me the cold shoulder and doesn’t return my calls and text messages.
Last weekend was our first out of town trip. It was not exactly a romantic get away or anything. We went with some thirty-five people to his friend’s dad’s farm. Some fifteen friends were there with twenty parents.
He was introduced to some elderly man as himself; I was introduced to the elderly man as his better half. My feminist instinct was under check, or else I would have demanded an apology. In fact, my 50’s, apron-wearing, home-maker, house wifey side, absolutely loved it.
As usual, the pessimist in me is waiting for the bubble to burst, constantly thinking that it’s never going to work, before it has even begun. And I think, assuming that each day is going to be the end is making me miss out on a lot of good things.
That, and the intense jealousy I am feeling toward some of his annoying, ditsy, Paris Hilton-esque female friends, who probably eat a single pea for every meal and think the weighing scale goes only to about 40kgs. Bloody damned stick figures.
On the 31st night he took me out to this club and we celebrated the New Year together. Before he dropped me home we discussed “us”. I asked if it was a fling, he said no. I asked if we were seeing each other, he said yes. I asked if we were exclusive, he said as exclusive as I wanted us to be. He told me if there was anyone else, I’d be the first to know.
(Insert romantic ‘sigh’ here)
If this is just another one of the big man upstairs’ sick jokes, I swear, somebody’s gonna get hurt real bad.
And it better not be me.
We met in December 2006 – which was still the “good” year technically, so I’m a little relieved about that bit. But we are “getting into something” in the New Year – which is scaring the beejeesus out of me – cause of my super superstitious odd-numbered-bad-year-luck thing.
I have met everyone that is possibly close to him from his parents to his dogs to his building’s watchman and he has met no one of mine. This is fine by me, because the whole “meeting the parents” bit freaks me out a little.
Now, I have been single and mingling, with no good results, for the better part of two and a half years. And suddenly, bam, I find myself in a relationship quandary.
We call each other, he cares about where I am, we go out and his arm is around me, His hand reaches for mine in a crowded club, I’m the one he calls before he goes to bed, I’m the one he messages in the morning and I’m the one who gets to sit in the front seat of his car.
This is all new. It’s all good, but it’s all new. And I am baffled. As if I did not think enough. My mind is now on overdrive. I’m constantly preparing myself for inevitable disaster.
The day before yesterday was supposed to be the day he’d walk up to me and say whatever this is, it’s over. Yesterday was the day he was supposed to call me and tell me that he’s met someone, or that his ex is back in the picture. Today was the day he just gives me the cold shoulder and doesn’t return my calls and text messages.
Last weekend was our first out of town trip. It was not exactly a romantic get away or anything. We went with some thirty-five people to his friend’s dad’s farm. Some fifteen friends were there with twenty parents.
He was introduced to some elderly man as himself; I was introduced to the elderly man as his better half. My feminist instinct was under check, or else I would have demanded an apology. In fact, my 50’s, apron-wearing, home-maker, house wifey side, absolutely loved it.
As usual, the pessimist in me is waiting for the bubble to burst, constantly thinking that it’s never going to work, before it has even begun. And I think, assuming that each day is going to be the end is making me miss out on a lot of good things.
That, and the intense jealousy I am feeling toward some of his annoying, ditsy, Paris Hilton-esque female friends, who probably eat a single pea for every meal and think the weighing scale goes only to about 40kgs. Bloody damned stick figures.
On the 31st night he took me out to this club and we celebrated the New Year together. Before he dropped me home we discussed “us”. I asked if it was a fling, he said no. I asked if we were seeing each other, he said yes. I asked if we were exclusive, he said as exclusive as I wanted us to be. He told me if there was anyone else, I’d be the first to know.
(Insert romantic ‘sigh’ here)
If this is just another one of the big man upstairs’ sick jokes, I swear, somebody’s gonna get hurt real bad.
And it better not be me.
happy frikkin' 2007
Remember how I was hoping and praying that this year was as good as 2006 and not as completely awful as 2005?
I'm guessing the hopes and prayers didn’t quite work out.
My car was stolen today.
Four years we parked our red Hyundai Accent at that spot next to the train station, and today when my dad got back from the train, it was gone.
It was bought as a surprise for my sisters when they came down from the states. It was a beautiful red, which my mum and I chose, as opposed to an old-fogey silver model. The music system was a swanky one – something my dad wanted to splurge on, ‘because we all like music on the road, especially me – he got those ones with a remote so I could DJ from the back seat.
Dad just got back from sitting at the police station for almost three hours filing a FIR, so he can give it to the insurance company. If we don’t get the car back, at least we get the money. It’s naïve to even think we will get the car back in one piece – especially in this country.
Anyway, it’s been a lousy day.
Hopefully this run of crap will not continue. Hopefully the rest of the year is better and brighter. Hopefully the insurance covers us. Hopefully my mum and dad are not too upset over this thing.
Hopefully the testicles of the asshole that stole my car, fall off.
I'm guessing the hopes and prayers didn’t quite work out.
My car was stolen today.
Four years we parked our red Hyundai Accent at that spot next to the train station, and today when my dad got back from the train, it was gone.
It was bought as a surprise for my sisters when they came down from the states. It was a beautiful red, which my mum and I chose, as opposed to an old-fogey silver model. The music system was a swanky one – something my dad wanted to splurge on, ‘because we all like music on the road, especially me – he got those ones with a remote so I could DJ from the back seat.
Dad just got back from sitting at the police station for almost three hours filing a FIR, so he can give it to the insurance company. If we don’t get the car back, at least we get the money. It’s naïve to even think we will get the car back in one piece – especially in this country.
Anyway, it’s been a lousy day.
Hopefully this run of crap will not continue. Hopefully the rest of the year is better and brighter. Hopefully the insurance covers us. Hopefully my mum and dad are not too upset over this thing.
Hopefully the testicles of the asshole that stole my car, fall off.
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