Random Observations of My Life

I feel like writing, and so here I am, writing about nothing in particular it seems.



And so it looks like I'm cold-y. I was flu-y, a couple weeks ago, with what apeared to be a severe throat infection. I say "what appeared" because I never actually confirmed it with the doctor. I didn't have to. I could feel it. The intense burning was enough confirmation for me. I just went to see him for the drugs. I do not apologise for my gratification from instant pain relief.

So now I've been sneezing, A LOT, I have a very very slight runny nose, and a decent amount of flem in my throat.

Great. My best friend the Flem. How I missed you so.

But I took some drugs last night (otherwise known as doctor prescribed tablets) deliberately left over from the last time I was sick, in the case of an emergency such as this.

I don't know whether it was the tablets, the pasta I ate, or the fact that my body had to wind down after my oh-so-hot shower. Or from the marathon Hubbie and I went through on the weekend which has left me wondering if my internal organs are still intact. And by marathon I don't mean in the sprinting sense.

Great. I just sneezed again. And someone here at work has just sprayed perfume. BEAUTIFUL. Because that is really going to subdue my nose which is becoming runny again. YAY me. And then I will have to go and blow my nose in the toilet again, because I have some unreasonable weirdness about doing it in front of people. I find it embarrassing. Just as I find embarrassing peeing in public toilets when there's someone else in there. I guess it's a case of mild shy bladder syndrome. Mild because I'm only affected when there's only one other person in the toilets. If there's more than one person, I'm not that concerned. So I have a bladder with a numero uno grade parusesis phobia. It's picky too. Seems my bladder takes after me.

I just blew my nose, very quietly. Yes I can't be stuffed going back into the bathroom. I'll just have to wonder forever (or 'til my next toilet break, whichever comes first) if I have snot hanging out my nose. Hey, maybe there's a phobia for that too. Snotaphobia it should be called.

Don't laugh, I just found out my fear of moths is a real one: Mottephobia.


Sigh.

Do you ever wonder why you dream so often at night? And by dream I don't mean the dreaming you do when you're asleep, I'm referring to the conscious dreams and hopes you have, that fly through your head at night when funnily enough you should be relaxing in order to fall asleep. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I have an overly active imagination. Maybe it is true that with Neptune ruling my birth number, I am prone to vividly wild and colourful dreams and fantasies.

But things just seem to pop into my head at night, the most interesting and weirdest ideas, but also the most fantastic. The most recent thing I've decided, as a result from laying-in-bed-at-night dreaming, was to start writing books. It's an old idea, which has recently been re-born from a conversation shared with Hubbie about our aspirations in life. It suddenly occurred to me during this discussion with him, that I actually held no current motivations to pursue a higher position in my workplace. When I realised I was happy where I was, and had come as far as I'd wanted to, I had to wonder: Did I have any work-related aspirations left?

For so long I had wanted to be a part of this industry, and now that I'd achieved it, and I was part of a large organisation, I had no desire to move up.

So I thought. And thought. And I didn't have to think much longer until it hit me.

I pictured writing. Creating. Then I pictured writing AND bringing that to the screen.....

And just like that. It was there all along. I'd always loved writing. I gave up the pursuit into that area academically after Martin "bastard" Bashir's disgustingly discriminative and one-sided interview against Michael Jackson during my first years at uni. The fact that he was a journalist, put me off the idea of writing for a living (well that, and also most magazines are published in the adjoining state, and I didn't see myself moving there, or working for a newspaper firm here.)

So instead I had looked to film and television. I never even considered writing an actual book, as I didn't want any time spent on a profession that I believed would not give me many returns, a profession that would be hit-and-miss in terms of success and monetary rewards.

So I just forgot. Forgot about my love, forgot about my dreams. Yes, I was still pursuing one line of interest, in tv/film, but what had happened is that I went through a grown-up phase. It's a phase in which you decide to grow up too fast, be all responsible, and unfortunately in turn, let go of the one thing you do well. Really well.

Until just recently. I had my "life talk" with Hubbie, where he initially put the idea into my head, which was subsequently followed by my discussion with Red, waiting in line for the midnight screening of Eclipse. And since then I've had thoughts running through my mind a mile a minute. Story ideas, characters; all a follow-through on things I've thought before, started before, but never really had time to devote to. And the difference now you might ask? Well now I have the time. I can make the time after work hours. I can work, AND pursue a love of mine. Now, I'm living in ATS rather than BTS. After-The-Secret. I NOW know that there is an abundance of love, happiness, health, wealth and success, available for EVERYONE in this Universe. It's all there only if you believe in it.

And I truly, truly believe in it.

So I guess that brings me back to my prior point. About only dreaming at night, while lying in bed. I find myself imagining things, planning things, and half the time I don't even follow-through with them. It's so annoying. I put it down to time, but really it comes down to lack of motivation and determination. And I hate to admit to being lazy and slack, so trust me this isn't an easy feat. And obviously, my book comes into this. I have so many ideas, but I'm unable to organise everything in my head. Maybe that's the true reason. Because everything is so 'blah' in my head, I find myself lacking a bit of 'POW!' to actually start anything. But I will make that change I tell you!

So, have you ever wondered about shit films? Like, you know, really random, horribly produced, directed and acted movies? I find myself, every so often, after watching a really crap film, wondering who the bozo was to give the go-ahead on such an atrocity? I mean, when something goes straight to video, wouldn't it make sense to NOT let that same guy act/direct/produce again? In this case it's probably a case of money, and money doing the walking and the talking on the way to creating something resembling a film, but falling way far short of it.

So all these points combined, and I will write a freaking fantastic set of books. And it will be full of awesomeness and goodness and inspiredness. Hopefully not including any of those 3 words as it wouldn't get past the draft stage.


Oh yeah, and the getting it to the screen part? Well, I have another dream. And going by my industry contacts.... LOL. I'd love to see it on the screen. My ideas, born from my brain, for all to see, because I truly believe, they can be acted out in a tremendous way.

Yes I know I aim big. It's not my fault. I just dare to dream.

Go ahead, throw yourself a Birthday party.... it'll show you who really cares

A few days ago I celebrated my birthday, 26 years young.
I've come to a few grown-up realisations since then, of which I'm planning to share in the coming weeks.
My biggest realisation and simultaneous disappointment, surrounded my birthday, in particular the party I planned in celebration of me.
After a lot of what should I do conversations with hubbie and friends, followed by where should I go, and who should I invite, I finally decided on a fairly upmarket bar in the city, where I could meet with friends for drinks and good convo, hopefully followed by some bar hopping late into the night.
Was I excited? Hell yes. Well, actually, I'd been too caught up in newly married life to get excited in the whole anticipation of the event, as with the kind of person I am, I am the sort to get overly excited in the anticipation of an event, like my birthday. Birthdays to me are sacred, special, and something to be milked to the absolute extreme. I milk my birthday the week leading up to the big day, the week following the big day, in fact I think I claim the entire zodiac month as my own until the next sign comes into centre stage.
But as mentioned, I had been preoccupied with house and married things. Nonetheless I was looking forward to a night out partying.
The fabulousness of Facebook allowed me to post the event and invite my friends to it: I had planned on inviting just the close ones, but the sheer volume of people who are my "friends" overwhelmed me to the point where I felt I must also invite those who I hadn't spoken to in months and months and even years.
But I was cautious, I knew some of them rarely checked their Facebook so I also messaged everyone.... and waited.
So there were those that said yes..... the few that said maybe, the few that said no, and then the many who didn't say anything. Not a word. Not even via message.
The day came, and admittedly I was trying not to set myself up for disappointment, however secretly I was hoping everyone who didn't reply plus the "maybes" would all surprise me by rocking up.
Who came that night? Well let me count on my two hands....
Other than me and hubbie, it was my bestie and her boy, my other relatively good bestie and her boy, plus two work friends.
That's it, zilch, zero, nada, nema nista.
Out of the definite 13 that said they would come via the net, only 2 arrived, with several of them suddenly announcing they wouldn't be able to come last minute, none of the maybes arrived, and still no word from the no responsees, some who had once been my closest friends. Ahem, once.
Mind you, I almost had organised a separate room at this bar, thank God they were all booked out, as my expected group of 20 had quickly diminished into an 8.
Mind you, I still had a great night, got pretty smashed, so you could say it was a successful night! But it just wouldn't leave my mind! I had so many questions....
Firstly, what had happened to the "Birthday?" I remember a time, growing up, when I used to have Birthday parties at home, and they were always the absolute best. Not being bias, but everyone who attended agreed. It was the hottest ticket. Whether I was celebrating my 10th, 15th or 21st, all my various and long-standing friends throughout the years thoroughly enjoyed my parties. And how could they not? After all my parents, who'd hosted a million Birthdays, Christmas', Easters and New Years parties, were strongly skilled in the art of making the best party! I don't know if it was that natural love of everything they did, or whether it was the food, drink or dance, but everyone, family and friends alike, loved coming to our place.
Because really, who doesn't love a party? Who says "no thanks, but I'd rather stay at home alone."
So I became sad. For my birthday. When was it, where was it, what was the turning point to make people go, "no, thanks, I'd rather stay at home"?
Is it the fact that home parties are so much easier? Easier to transport yourself to? Is the city that far away, and the winter that cold, that the thought of a fun night out is outweighed by the distance needed to travel and the chill in the air? Sadly for some, it clearly is.
Secondly, what happened to those "friends" who said they were coming, and then on the night, didn't show up? No message of sorry I can't get there, no explanations. Am I the only one left to have the decency to keep my promises, only speak with honesty, and at the very least if my plans change make a bloody phone call?
Has Facebook created a genearation of say-but-not-do-ers, who promise but don't deliver? What's most disappointing is when it comes from those you genuinely trust and belive in, those who have always come to your birthdays. That's the disappointing part.
Thirdly, the best and last, is having some of your friends say they'll come, and then make up a poor excuse about not being able to come, when in fact they have opted to go to another birthday, of a person they actually despise. Yes, there are ears everywhere my friends.
So how does that work? Choosing your genuine friend over your not so genuine friend who by-the-way, you were bagging a few days ago???
Life always seems to surprise me somehow, and this was no exception.
I know that things happen. Shit happens. But you know, does shit happen to everyone? And when shit happens, does it make people forget to call and speak to you? Even one of my friends who couldn't make it because of a death in the family, was able to call. Puts all the rest to shame!
So, back to my main topic.... what has happened to birthdays? What has happened to my birthdays? The days where everyone would be so excited to come over, and then talk about it after for weeks to come....
What kind of society do we live in if it means that we can make empty promises, if we fail to follow up were we havent followed through? Where we choose our enemies to suss out their game, over our friends who have always stood by us...
Really, despite how it sounds, I'm over it. I'm almost.... enlightened by the events, rather than being disenchanted, which at first I was. It's shown me who cares. Am I looking into it too much.....hmmmm no. Because at the end, it's about respect. Respect the person who gives it you. And if you give and don't get back, well then...... are you wasting your time?
Next year, I'm getting smashed at home. With my closest. And Facebook and SMS-ing won't be involved.