Really he did. I saw him a couple of weeks ago in his ‘Welcome to Australia’ tour, and he was gobsmackingly awesome. So good in fact, that I got sick, like Red and I did years earlier when we first saw Justin.
Yep, once again, we both got sick days later, on the same exact day. I started with muscle aches and shivers on a Friday afternoon, progressing to a temperature, that went away overnight but was replaced with a sore throat, runny nose and coughing.
There’s something so evil about getting sick on a Friday afternoon. It’s a sure-fire way to screw up your weekend.
Now, more than a week later after getting sick, I still have the same annoying, persistent, dry, cough-or-you’ll-die-choking-on-nothing-mofo cough, which is at its worst at night. In the morning it’s decent, but assisted by its good friend flem, which helps it by irritating the f$%^ out of my throat even further, making me cough incessantly but to no avail because the thick flem stays where it is, lodged in my throat, it is almost as bad in the morning because I need to blow my nose ‘til my brain hurts, or stand over the sink gagging and hacking.
This one such morning, I started coughing here early at work, to the point where I had to run away to the bathroom: I just couldn’t take it. I started spitting into the sink, trying to get the flem out, and saw a reddish colour blended into the spit.
Blood. I saw it a couple of days ago as well, but dismissed it as nothing. Seeing it again, I’m still leaning towards the ‘nothing’ theory, nothing meaning the blood is from my irritated throat. I have seen my doctor (albeit last week) and I’m hoping it goes away. Even google was surprisingly encouraging, when I typed in ‘coughing up blood from a sore throat:’ a LOT of searches came up, rather than the usual, ‘You Will Die’ ones when you try net self-diagnose.
People. Never Net Self-Diagnose.
There has been one fantastic upside to all this spluttering, blood-inducing, hacking business. Whenever I get sick like this, and then the cold progresses to my throat, there are a couple of days – well, maybe it’s more like a day and a half – where I get the most fantastic voice.
I love it. My voice is completely screwed up, cracking, breaking, sometimes no noise actually comes out if it’s REALLY bad. There’s a mix of huskiness, hoarseness, and no matter how loud, soft, quick or slow I talk, it stays there, sexy, teasing, like I should be working late night phones. I love it I love it I love it.
I started getting it late Monday, then all day yesterday I just wanted to yap on to hear myself talk, and now today, I can tell it’s going away. It’s just the most fantastic tone. So crackly and full of character, mystery, drama.
I might get (un)lucky and get the voice again when George Michael visits in November
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Monday, April 4, 2011
Beating Time
So often in life, we find ourselves running against the clock, trying to get as much done as we possibly can, going to as many places as humanly possible, and setting ourselves goals that we can never really achieve within a day.
We never have enough time. I've myself wanted to find the cure for sleep on many an occasion. I love sleep, sooooo much, don't get me wrong. But when I have too much to do, and I've promised myself and a lot of others to get certain things done, I start counting the hours, and wishing that 8 hours of sleep wasn't a prerequisite every single day. It would be good if we could, you know, skip a day, without the detrimental effects of what that would normally do catching up to us.
It's our own fault. We give ourselves too much to do. Waste our time on petty little bullshit, make promises we can't keep. Or in my case as it often occurs, I plan on doing too much, and end up burnt-out by the end of the day when I do miraculously manage to keep all my commitments, having had to fly and rush through them just to achieve them all.
It's no good. We need to relax. Look at what is realistically possible. Look at what it is that is truly important to us, our livelihood, and what we must do. All the extra stuff, forget it. If you don't die by failing to perform a task, it's probably safe to say it isn't so important, and can wait 'til another time for completion.
Despite all these very smart realisations I've had to beat in and imbue into my mind over the last few months, I found myself in a rare and delightful circumstance yesterday.
I found myself beating time. Like literally. I was in front of time.
Daylight savings ended in Victoria on Sunday morning. Now that we are entering into the depressing cold and dark wintry months ahead of us, our clocks are to move back one hour, in order to align us up to this man-made invention.
So, by moving back an hour..... you actually get an extra hour. Of whatever you so wish.
:)
I knew the time was going back one hour, however come Saturday night, after Hubbie and I consumed one too many drinks, we went to bed, completely oblivious of the earlier conversation we'd had about gaining an hour the next day.
I made myself get up out of bed just after 9am on Sunday morning. I had all this washing to do, and I figured my sleep in on Saturday had been more than decent. I probably wouldn't have slept much longer, it's just that when you wake up, and there's very little light coming in through the cracks in the closed blinds, you just KNOW that it's a depressing sight outside.
I started making brekkie, and had the TV on in the background. I caught a brief look at one of those news banners they have along the bottom, that changes every few seconds with the daily news titles of the day, and saw the words "daylight savings ends."
I stopped motionless for a moment, my brain trying to catch up. Then it hit me. It was now actually 8:30, rather than 9:30!
'I could have slept longer,' was what I first thought to myself. But then the joy of realising I was up, and had had the same number of sleep, but it was still an hour earlier..... I felt devilishly scheme-y.
I called Hubbie, who had planned to go to work at 6:30..... yep he got there 5:30. We laughed because it meant he was coming home earlier, with once again, not having lost ANY sleep.
All morning I did my jobs, peaking quick looks at the clock, and feeling as if I were WAY ahead of time. And I was. I was thinking, 'this is awesome, this is the only time in the year when we actually get in front of time.'
Ha. Screw you time. I beat you.
Famous last thoughts.
What I failed to realise, was that although I felt I had beaten time, my body was still running on old time. So, my brekkie came early according to my old body clock, and then my lunch came... late, and dinner... late.
That wouldn't normally be an issue, because I'm not soft. But my body having been out of sorts lately, by the time I was preparing dinner that night, I felt shots of weakness spasm through me. The changed time, combined with my not-too-crash-hot-body, was now giving me sick symptoms.
Today I write this with a sore-ish throat. I had weak muscles on the way into work, making me think it may possibly develop into a full-blown cold/flu. I'm keeping it at bay with cough lollies, and I need to have another hot tea soon.
Moral of the story. When you think you've beaten time, you haven't. Don't get cocky. Time always catches up to you.
We never have enough time. I've myself wanted to find the cure for sleep on many an occasion. I love sleep, sooooo much, don't get me wrong. But when I have too much to do, and I've promised myself and a lot of others to get certain things done, I start counting the hours, and wishing that 8 hours of sleep wasn't a prerequisite every single day. It would be good if we could, you know, skip a day, without the detrimental effects of what that would normally do catching up to us.
It's our own fault. We give ourselves too much to do. Waste our time on petty little bullshit, make promises we can't keep. Or in my case as it often occurs, I plan on doing too much, and end up burnt-out by the end of the day when I do miraculously manage to keep all my commitments, having had to fly and rush through them just to achieve them all.
It's no good. We need to relax. Look at what is realistically possible. Look at what it is that is truly important to us, our livelihood, and what we must do. All the extra stuff, forget it. If you don't die by failing to perform a task, it's probably safe to say it isn't so important, and can wait 'til another time for completion.
Despite all these very smart realisations I've had to beat in and imbue into my mind over the last few months, I found myself in a rare and delightful circumstance yesterday.
I found myself beating time. Like literally. I was in front of time.
Daylight savings ended in Victoria on Sunday morning. Now that we are entering into the depressing cold and dark wintry months ahead of us, our clocks are to move back one hour, in order to align us up to this man-made invention.
So, by moving back an hour..... you actually get an extra hour. Of whatever you so wish.
:)
I knew the time was going back one hour, however come Saturday night, after Hubbie and I consumed one too many drinks, we went to bed, completely oblivious of the earlier conversation we'd had about gaining an hour the next day.
I made myself get up out of bed just after 9am on Sunday morning. I had all this washing to do, and I figured my sleep in on Saturday had been more than decent. I probably wouldn't have slept much longer, it's just that when you wake up, and there's very little light coming in through the cracks in the closed blinds, you just KNOW that it's a depressing sight outside.
I started making brekkie, and had the TV on in the background. I caught a brief look at one of those news banners they have along the bottom, that changes every few seconds with the daily news titles of the day, and saw the words "daylight savings ends."
I stopped motionless for a moment, my brain trying to catch up. Then it hit me. It was now actually 8:30, rather than 9:30!
'I could have slept longer,' was what I first thought to myself. But then the joy of realising I was up, and had had the same number of sleep, but it was still an hour earlier..... I felt devilishly scheme-y.
I called Hubbie, who had planned to go to work at 6:30..... yep he got there 5:30. We laughed because it meant he was coming home earlier, with once again, not having lost ANY sleep.
All morning I did my jobs, peaking quick looks at the clock, and feeling as if I were WAY ahead of time. And I was. I was thinking, 'this is awesome, this is the only time in the year when we actually get in front of time.'
Ha. Screw you time. I beat you.
Famous last thoughts.
What I failed to realise, was that although I felt I had beaten time, my body was still running on old time. So, my brekkie came early according to my old body clock, and then my lunch came... late, and dinner... late.
That wouldn't normally be an issue, because I'm not soft. But my body having been out of sorts lately, by the time I was preparing dinner that night, I felt shots of weakness spasm through me. The changed time, combined with my not-too-crash-hot-body, was now giving me sick symptoms.
Today I write this with a sore-ish throat. I had weak muscles on the way into work, making me think it may possibly develop into a full-blown cold/flu. I'm keeping it at bay with cough lollies, and I need to have another hot tea soon.
Moral of the story. When you think you've beaten time, you haven't. Don't get cocky. Time always catches up to you.
Monday, March 21, 2011
It's harder than it seems....
So, I haven't been around much. I know that although A LOT of the time that I am busy, I still have the chance to blog while at work, but unfortunately, that too has been super-crammed-in with stuff going on.
You know when you haven't written in so long, that you don't even know what to write anymore? Yeah, that's just because
A) you can't remember where to begin, and
B) I feel most of my creative energies going towards my Story :)
Yes, that has happened my dears, I always knew that once I started writing my passion, my blog would ultimately suffer. I don't want to be one of the endless bloggers out there, who when you click on 'Next Blog,' you see their last update was in Dec '08. No thank you. If I decide to conclude my blogging, my last entry will be just that, my last, and definitely conclusive. But that day isn't here yet, and if it were up to me, I will do this as long as I can. Away from my diary writing days, this is the closest free therapy I can get :)
So as I have no clear beginning for this blog post, therefore there will be no end. Free blogging I call it - let's go!
* Because he is in my direct view as I speak, I'll begin with no-show boy: he's pissing me off again. Just the other week, on a Wednesday, (only 3 days after he came back from a whole MONTH of annual leave mind you!) I deliberately told him that I was having the upcoming Friday off, you know, as a GENUINE RDO. There was a little voice in me that said "careful Miss S," which I obviously ignored. Well lo and behold, I come in the next day on Thursday, and he has conveniently called in sick! He always does this! He takes it upon himself to take sick days when he feels he is 'due' only because others are having their days off! Hey, we deserve them..... and it's not fair because he still gets his RDOs! Grrrrrrr!
And he is always sick. That's the thing. He is not genuinely sick, the kind of sick I get maybe 2 to 3 times A WINTER. No he is 'sick' at least once every few weeks for the entire year..... and you know what his excuse always is? "Oh, I slept only 3 hours, and then I was absolutely f***ed getting up...."
Really? You were totally screwed with only 3 hours sleep? Nooooo, you don't say! Maybe quit smoking pot all night, and then you might actually get some shut eye! And believe me, I'm NOT making that part up.
Ha. Taking it upon himself to MAKE himself sick because he is due a day off. My arse you're due.
Today even, being a Monday, he has come in not only 30 minutes late, BUT has been sniffling and blowing his nose ALL DAY. It is really disgusting when you are eating and hearing someone breathe in their snot in a continuous motion. It's not nice. And I can't really feel sorry for him, knowing it's self-induced. Sorry mate, I know you want me to turn to you and say "ohhhhh, no-show boy, you should go home, you've been sick all day!"
No way. Not when you're always sick. You know those people, who are ALWAYS sick, always complaining of something? Well there are these things called vitamins dude. Take them. Don't forget to quit the pot either.
* Well, it's certainly harder than it seems, let me tell you. The writing that is. There is sooo much to think about: characters, what they will say, is what they're saying in character, am I progressing the story too much, am I not revealing enough, AND THEN I'm constantly re-evaluating where I am in the story and making sure I'm still on track and writing with my primary story goal in mind. Phew!
I love it, and when I get into it, it's great. I've laid down some rules, such as I must write on Thursdays, AND most Monday nights. I think it is way too hard to find time on the weekend, when those days end up being catch up days for all things house-related, as well as generally being a time that you wanna just have fun. It's just that I haven't even finished a chapter yet - as I write, I realise I need to research certain things, and it makes it actually impossible for me to continue unless I do that. I'm hoping once I get over the 1st chapter hurdles, I'll be on my way, and moving a lot quicker and smoother.
Oh yeah, and every time I read my first few paragraphs, I totally lose focus: proof that I've read it too many times. It scares me at first, because I wonder in panic "why am I zoning out?"
Ahhhh, writing is pure torture. Yet I still love this kind of torture.
* I've realised/decided that meditation is the key. Especially when dealing with annoying people. In an effort not to want to mention names, even fictional ones I've created to disguise real people, I'm simply going to say 'annoying people' here. I was fine for a LONG time. I wasn't aggravated, necessarily totally upset or hurt or maddened by any actions or words, or just generally normal behaviour performed by persons of interest. Until this last weekend.
It is so much easier to say "I'll ignore this person," than to actually ignore them. The doing of the act, is A LOT harder. Especially when you're forced into a 5 hour situation where you can't get away. My scenario resembles that of throwing an untrained swimmer into the deep end. They may splatter about for a few minutes, until they sink and drown. That's how I felt just recently.
I'm trying to get my head around the fact that people can't be changed. This is a very difficult realisation to grasp. Also, I don't understand people's hostile and rude behaviours, and why they don't realise that despite their high opinions of themselves, they actually are far from perfect, far from good at all.
But when you risk hurting your loved ones, saying things like this out loud becomes impossible. A situation that has no solution, a beginning that has no end. So you have to learn to deal, even when learning becomes increasingly excruciating to do so. I'm not sure where I stand, but in the midst of my google search for 'dealing with difficult family members' this morning, I discovered a few repeating points of advice:
- you can't change them, but you can change how you react to them
- don't react immediately to offensive words/behaviour: take a breath and respond when calm
- don't allow yourself to enter into topics that will cause intense disagreements
- don't focus on their bad qualities, as all you will see is their bad qualities
I always struggle with points like these, as I feel that with I myself having to accomodate to their behaviour, is like some kind of acceptance that their behaviour is ok. When it is far from that. I know that learning to deal with it is not saying that, but as I said yesterday, "why do I have to deal with them? Why can't they deal with me?"
I wish I could give them a piece of my mind..... I don't know, maybe the day will come when that happens. In the meantime I need to breathe. I breathed a lot yesterday, and I just feel different. Then again I prayed intensely, maybe I received some inspired clarity, divine guidance that I do not yet know I have.
It just makes me sad when I notice I'm acting out negatively, in the most minor every-day situations in my life, all because I haven't been able to express myself in the situation that most matters. But I feel a change within me, and I really hope that this time I'm able to follow through on it. I just need to learn how to waddle first, before I can dive into the deep end. Learning and building one's character through intense trials takes a lot of time....
Well that's all for today...... so concludes Miss S' random tidbits, til the next tidbit session....
Ta ta.
You know when you haven't written in so long, that you don't even know what to write anymore? Yeah, that's just because
A) you can't remember where to begin, and
B) I feel most of my creative energies going towards my Story :)
Yes, that has happened my dears, I always knew that once I started writing my passion, my blog would ultimately suffer. I don't want to be one of the endless bloggers out there, who when you click on 'Next Blog,' you see their last update was in Dec '08. No thank you. If I decide to conclude my blogging, my last entry will be just that, my last, and definitely conclusive. But that day isn't here yet, and if it were up to me, I will do this as long as I can. Away from my diary writing days, this is the closest free therapy I can get :)
So as I have no clear beginning for this blog post, therefore there will be no end. Free blogging I call it - let's go!
* Because he is in my direct view as I speak, I'll begin with no-show boy: he's pissing me off again. Just the other week, on a Wednesday, (only 3 days after he came back from a whole MONTH of annual leave mind you!) I deliberately told him that I was having the upcoming Friday off, you know, as a GENUINE RDO. There was a little voice in me that said "careful Miss S," which I obviously ignored. Well lo and behold, I come in the next day on Thursday, and he has conveniently called in sick! He always does this! He takes it upon himself to take sick days when he feels he is 'due' only because others are having their days off! Hey, we deserve them..... and it's not fair because he still gets his RDOs! Grrrrrrr!
And he is always sick. That's the thing. He is not genuinely sick, the kind of sick I get maybe 2 to 3 times A WINTER. No he is 'sick' at least once every few weeks for the entire year..... and you know what his excuse always is? "Oh, I slept only 3 hours, and then I was absolutely f***ed getting up...."
Really? You were totally screwed with only 3 hours sleep? Nooooo, you don't say! Maybe quit smoking pot all night, and then you might actually get some shut eye! And believe me, I'm NOT making that part up.
Ha. Taking it upon himself to MAKE himself sick because he is due a day off. My arse you're due.
Today even, being a Monday, he has come in not only 30 minutes late, BUT has been sniffling and blowing his nose ALL DAY. It is really disgusting when you are eating and hearing someone breathe in their snot in a continuous motion. It's not nice. And I can't really feel sorry for him, knowing it's self-induced. Sorry mate, I know you want me to turn to you and say "ohhhhh, no-show boy, you should go home, you've been sick all day!"
No way. Not when you're always sick. You know those people, who are ALWAYS sick, always complaining of something? Well there are these things called vitamins dude. Take them. Don't forget to quit the pot either.
* Well, it's certainly harder than it seems, let me tell you. The writing that is. There is sooo much to think about: characters, what they will say, is what they're saying in character, am I progressing the story too much, am I not revealing enough, AND THEN I'm constantly re-evaluating where I am in the story and making sure I'm still on track and writing with my primary story goal in mind. Phew!
I love it, and when I get into it, it's great. I've laid down some rules, such as I must write on Thursdays, AND most Monday nights. I think it is way too hard to find time on the weekend, when those days end up being catch up days for all things house-related, as well as generally being a time that you wanna just have fun. It's just that I haven't even finished a chapter yet - as I write, I realise I need to research certain things, and it makes it actually impossible for me to continue unless I do that. I'm hoping once I get over the 1st chapter hurdles, I'll be on my way, and moving a lot quicker and smoother.
Oh yeah, and every time I read my first few paragraphs, I totally lose focus: proof that I've read it too many times. It scares me at first, because I wonder in panic "why am I zoning out?"
Ahhhh, writing is pure torture. Yet I still love this kind of torture.
* I've realised/decided that meditation is the key. Especially when dealing with annoying people. In an effort not to want to mention names, even fictional ones I've created to disguise real people, I'm simply going to say 'annoying people' here. I was fine for a LONG time. I wasn't aggravated, necessarily totally upset or hurt or maddened by any actions or words, or just generally normal behaviour performed by persons of interest. Until this last weekend.
It is so much easier to say "I'll ignore this person," than to actually ignore them. The doing of the act, is A LOT harder. Especially when you're forced into a 5 hour situation where you can't get away. My scenario resembles that of throwing an untrained swimmer into the deep end. They may splatter about for a few minutes, until they sink and drown. That's how I felt just recently.
I'm trying to get my head around the fact that people can't be changed. This is a very difficult realisation to grasp. Also, I don't understand people's hostile and rude behaviours, and why they don't realise that despite their high opinions of themselves, they actually are far from perfect, far from good at all.
But when you risk hurting your loved ones, saying things like this out loud becomes impossible. A situation that has no solution, a beginning that has no end. So you have to learn to deal, even when learning becomes increasingly excruciating to do so. I'm not sure where I stand, but in the midst of my google search for 'dealing with difficult family members' this morning, I discovered a few repeating points of advice:
- you can't change them, but you can change how you react to them
- don't react immediately to offensive words/behaviour: take a breath and respond when calm
- don't allow yourself to enter into topics that will cause intense disagreements
- don't focus on their bad qualities, as all you will see is their bad qualities
I always struggle with points like these, as I feel that with I myself having to accomodate to their behaviour, is like some kind of acceptance that their behaviour is ok. When it is far from that. I know that learning to deal with it is not saying that, but as I said yesterday, "why do I have to deal with them? Why can't they deal with me?"
I wish I could give them a piece of my mind..... I don't know, maybe the day will come when that happens. In the meantime I need to breathe. I breathed a lot yesterday, and I just feel different. Then again I prayed intensely, maybe I received some inspired clarity, divine guidance that I do not yet know I have.
It just makes me sad when I notice I'm acting out negatively, in the most minor every-day situations in my life, all because I haven't been able to express myself in the situation that most matters. But I feel a change within me, and I really hope that this time I'm able to follow through on it. I just need to learn how to waddle first, before I can dive into the deep end. Learning and building one's character through intense trials takes a lot of time....
Well that's all for today...... so concludes Miss S' random tidbits, til the next tidbit session....
Ta ta.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Bubble and Squeak
Bubble and squeak is a term I came across a few months back, when browsing through some recipe books. As arrogant as this next bit might make me sound, to my surprise (and slight disgust) I discovered it was a term, rather a recipe whereby you used leftover vegies from another meal to make a 'new' meal, perhaps using eggs or something similar to combine it all together.
I think I was more disgusted at the name given to the recipe, rather than the ingredients used or the recycling of the food itself. No one eats leftovers more than Hubbie and I, so I can't say 'boo' to re-using food at all. But the name, bubble and squeak....... I don't know, what about the recipe, inspired the name Bubble and Squeak? What, about the food, makes it bubble.... and squeak...? Shudder at the thought.
However, this odd food terminology has sprung to mind in thinking about what indeed I should write about. So many odd, random, good and bad things have occurred of late, that I don't really know what to focus my writing attention on.
And this is how bubble and squeak came to mind. Apparently, the bubble and squeak is all the things that have happened lately, and the egg jelling it all together is my life.
Egg is my life. LOL.
And so the following minor stories, observations and episodic details of my life may come at you rather randomly, much like pieces of day-old carrot and peas in a mouthful of distastefully named 'bubble and squeak.'
(I'm only guessing at how it may taste). All this in an effort to bring you up to speed on my life, and also to bring me up to speed in my own life and help me to review it in progress, in what is herein going to be referred to as the 'bubble and squeak' post.
So be warned. I have NOT been taking notes.
When it comes to the good, versus the bad, unfortunately it's the bad that first springs to mind. However that only means that I have all good to end with :)
Mouth absolutely boiled me to my core, once again, on a few occasions. It becomes very hard when you have to deal with a person such as this. Even harder when it's someone in the family who you just can't avoid, unless of course you disown them, which I couldn't do without hurting many people I care about.
I get into this cycle with her. She shits me up the wall > I get upset, broody and moody and keep it all in trying to work it out in my head > it culminates in me practically exploding to Hubbie in anger and tears > after 3 days of wallowing we work out that A) I need to partially ignore her, and B) actually speak my mind and tell her when she is annoying me, in order to avoid the fantasy fights I create of her and I later on in my mind, that eventually drive me crraaaaazzzzzyyyyyyy.
So although we have danced this exact dance many times, I actually need to put the mentioned A and B acts to practice, and follow through. Otherwise nothing will ever change. Only my attitude in how to deal with her will actually change anything for me, because as we all know, an old dog will not learn any new tricks.
Lately I have been sick. Last Thursday, I barely made it into work, the only motivators being that my boss was away and I had extra stuff to do, and also, it was my last day before 3 days off. I made it in, barely could keep myself sitting straight up at my desk just long enough to do what I had to do, and left half way through the day. It was just so unbearable. Not only had I gone through a very sleepless and interrupted nights sleep, waking up what seemed like a zillion times and saying to myself "get up it's time to go to work," when in fact I still had hours to sleep, but my muscles were absolutely aching in agony. I was sooooo sore, every part of me hurt, which made me just want to curl up on my couch at home and sleep. Which I ended up doing.
It was the culmination of what had been a huge October. I don't know who else received it, but I got it a few times, both via sms and email, the chain letter about this recent October having 5 Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays? Yes and then it annoyingly tells you you must keep it going, according to the far-reaching distant natives of the land Makirouchidoo or some other tribal sounding country in order to keep the luck going, UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE. Well it might as well say that, with all the suggestive terminology making you want to send it or else meet some horrible fate. And so I did send it, and due to sending it several times during the month, it occurred to me that hey, this has been a LONG month.
And then I reminisced.
The month began with that awesome grand final win in which the Mighty Magpies brought the cup home! Finally! That had been a big weekend.
We had had my friends over, my close group, which in total added up to 8 of us, for dinner. That was a big night. There was food, there was drink, there were MANY cupcakes. And it was an awesome night.
We had ALL my cousins over. Yes, that drunk post, that was the aftermath. Needless to say I got a little-iddy-bit tipsydrunk, therefore placing the indicator of party success at HIGH.
In between we had side nights (of which I mean people over but not huge to the point of party-status-phere) where my sister came over, and Hubbie's friends. We had a wedding, we had people arriving at the airport from overseas trips. And then the month ended with Hubbie's big birthday bash, where once again we proved we could throw awesome parties and still have fun while doing all the work:)
I think I wore myself out to the disgusting point where 5 days after the last October party, my body started to shut down. It said "screw you, I'm taking leave," leaving the rest of me pathetically screaming "No! Come back damn you!"
And so the muscle aches set in, only after the sore throat and intense sneezing commenced. The flu symptoms were persistent again in days 2 and 3, where again I felt intense fatigue (due to my body running away no doubt) and cleaning the house probably didn't help me much, but hey what else was I supposed to do at home? Yeah I know I know, I could've sat in front of the telly all day. But that would have worked against my whole effective/efficient habit that I haven't been able to kick for the past 9 years.
And so today, a week after my first flu symptoms popped up, I'm still left with a consistent, grating, unrelenting cough. It is really so inconvenient. It's gone from worse, after the weekend of drinking champagne and other home-made apparently 'healing' concoctions, to just annoying now, where I still have to cough every so often - cough cough cough - excuse me, unlike this morning where I felt like I was just hacking up flem.
So all in all, it's getting better.
There was also this little moment late last week, a predecessor before the whole 'sick' thing started.... I had this interesting moment at work with a fellow colleague of mine, that totally bew me out of the water, catching me off guard completely. And it was all to do with cake.
All over some bloody cake.
In true Miss S form, I had decided to bring in to work leftover cake from Hubbie's birthday. I knew there were a few people, who would REALLY appreciate the free cake and all, and having had a huge month that was filled with way too much cakes and cupcakes and just everything sweet, early on I decided that getting rid of the mass amount we still had from Hubbie's birthday would be the right way to go.
And so in I brought it. And as I was finishing off my early shift that day, I happened across a work colleague of mine, who we shall call Kitty. Hmmm :)
She was just starting her shift, and so my intention was to let her know of the few leftover cakes there were near my desk, so she could spread the word to our other fellow workers starting later on that day as well.
As soon as I started the words "Kitty, just so you know there's some cakes over th-"
"No! Don't talk to me about cake!"
And so it began. In a very direct, firm way, she told me:
1. that she was not going to eat any cake
2. people in our work area should not be encouraged to eat cake
3. she wouldn't be responsible for making people eat cake ..............AND
4. if cake was left over, she ALSO wouldn't be responsible for getting rid of it.
What the?! All I mentioned was cake. I was a bit stunned, a bit miffed, and seeing as my sneezing had been accelerating that day, more than sensitive enough, so I was hurt. I felt like she was attacking me, personally, just for bringing in cake.
And all I was doing was trying to be nice. It was about then that another fellow colleague arrived, and I told him quite matter-of-factly that there was cake and that at least HE would appreciate it. I sort of ended the conversation by walking off, without a real proper goodbye to her.
I was really hurt by it all. I pondered it on the way home. I know she had been trying to lose a bit of excess weight that she had gained over the past year (not that she was overweight). I thought of other times that I had brought in cake, and asked myself if I had been pushy in getting people to eat the cake in order to rid myself of it. I wasn't quite sure, but I knew that then, in that moment and in that day, I had merely mentioned it, before getting a barrage of cake-hate spewing out at me.
I spoke to Hubbie about it that night, and even he thought the remarks I'd received were unwarranted and odd. I guess I felt a bit worse, as it's always a little sad when someone you normally like and get along with gives you grief. You wonder 'why' and think of where you have gone wrong. I did just that, and only ended up making myself feel MORE sadder...
Anyways, the next day, arriving at work, I saw an email from her titled 'cakes...'
Part of me had been expecting an email addressing the whole cake issue, so I was not surprised.
Miss S,
Below an email generated in an effort to try to make up for my not wanting cake comments - which came out much harsher than I meant. So sorry about that - I know it's meant in the kindest spirit....
So if they guys don't eat them - I can't say I didn't try!
Kitty
OMG. I always knew the power of Miss S was huge. I've worked in customer service and have gotten a rotten customer to apologise to me for her bitchiness without even trying. I've had my Dad, one of the most stubborn of people, say sorry to me. And he doesn't say sorry or admit to his failures. EVER. I remember Pez, my ex-best friend, calling me up and crying over the phone, saying sorry to just hanging up on me after a stupid fight.
And now this. A woman 10 years my senior, with tonnes more life and work experience, sending me an email to apologise for yelling at me about cakes. (ok not yelling but it sounds better than just 'being firm')
I'm sorry but WOAH. That's big. Of her. To be sorry is one thing, bu to say it out loud to the person you upset in the first place, is a totally different, very rare thing. So I totally applaud her for that.
Following her email to me was the message she had sent to the rest of our department, letting them know, in so many words "cake is here..... eat or else!" So she helped me with my cake distribution, and that, along with admitting her overzealousness in cake-hating, means we are now friends again:)
I have been good in the pursuit of writing my story. I find that when I just start to jot down and write random plot ideas, character traits and story outlines that I am further inspired and motivated to do more research and develop my dream of writing professionally even more. A few nights I have found myself just doodling quite casually, and the following day I find I have the characters and the potential things they could get up to just running around and around in my head. I'm happy with the fact that it stays in my head, because it's sort of confirmation that what I'm thinking is not only interesting, but addictive and worthy, because if it weren't so, I tell ya it wouldn't last long in my over-imaginative mind. I still plan on eventually (whenever I actually finish my first book, after the actuality of beginning to write it) getting Hubbie, Sis and Red to read it and to tell me what their honest, honest, honest opinions on it are. I will ask them to be brutal, and then I think I will run away and hide. Something about getting someone so close to you to critique your work, actually fills me with a sick, sick feeling, and no not the kind that is cough-inducing. More the type that will churn your stomach contents and force them in a vertical motion. Hell, even when I see that people have read my blog, I freak out slightly, and that's people I don't know, with no critical response whatsoever!
But baby steps. All little baby steps. All in the right direction.
Speaking of baby steps. Had a massive, major, incredible !!lightbulb!! moment a few nights ago with Hubbie, Sis and her Hub. It is actually so incredible and major, that if this thing were to eventuate, it could change all of our lives, I believe MAJORLY. But because it is so big, we aren't actually letting people know of our "idea" until hopefully the day that it is fully under way and in full practice. No, sorry I can't even let my imaginary blogger-verse know about it. All off-limits. But I just had to say, it is AMAZING. Funny how something can be under your nose, in your face for so many years, and you just don't know that the opportunity has been staring you in the face the whole time. I think that is called TIMING.
And in more recent fantastic news, I have been shopping. Ahhhhh, how sweet the pursuit of clothes via monetary means and the accumulation of said-clothes can be.
Sweeeetttt.
Yesterday I purchased a very fine jacket. It was during some morning-afternoon shopping before my work shift, and Hubbie and I had just had enough. We were talking about clothes we had, clothes we usually went for, and the clothes that we should go for.
And we made a deal. No longer were we going to go for the safe, normal option. We weren't going to just buy, in my case, more plain tops, black dresses and ballet shoes, or in his case, more chequered shirts and blue polo tops. We were gonna go a bit wild, edgy, and start playing it up. We had decided, and we were sick of it!
Gosh just thinking of our new-found pact, and of all the clothes I could have if I had become shopping-smarter, sooner, just gives me even more AMMO to shop. You see, by always going for the 'safe' shopping option, you end up with a wardrobe that is not only identical, but that lacks creativity. By choosing items of clothing that will go the distance over the coming seasons, you end up lacking the current individuality that you so deserve.
Pieces of clothing can be wild and outrageous, and go the distance, if chosen correctly. I think of the alternative style of dwellers living in the edgy parts of outer-city Melbourne, and I highly doubt that they purchase with the aim of getting the most years out of their clothes, yet they still manage to do so. And still look good in seasons to come. Certainly I don't plan on moving to those suburbs, but the thought of a wild, indy-style wardrobe, with 50s style dresses, hippie skirts, bright colours and edgy alternative cuts of clothing, is greatly appealing to me right now. And what excites me more than anything (perhaps level with the accumulation of clothes though!) is the idea that if it is different, we will not look at the price of an item, we will just buy it.
Let's put that in simpler terms. If something is different = BUY!$!$!
I know! How incredibly monetar-ily free-ing is that idea! Of buying whatever as long as it's DIFFERENT! And Hubbie came up with that idea too. I know I married him for a reason :-D
It's not so easy just to want to do something. You have to also delete all the pre-wired talk in your mind, reset your shopping habits and think outside the square if you're going to start doing things differently. For example this morning, when Hubbie and I were shopping (yet again, we're on a roll) at before-mentioned outer-city suburb, I was in this full bohemian-hippy shop, which had A LOT of dresses. I came across a black and white one with a lot of ruffles near the neck line. It is a gorgeous dress, not too extreme, but even so, when I tried it on, I loved it but was still going "oh, I don't know, it has A LOT of ruffles at the front!"
You see, the old Miss S would have said "those ruffles won't help me move from season to season, year to year." But the new one, asked Hubbie for confidence, pushed through the doubt and went "you know what? I look great in this! I'll buy it!"
Now that I'm thinking differently about my clothes shopping selections and habits, I feel as if I'm a slightly different person, like I'm looking at life all differently. I can even imagine myself in one of the two dresses I bought today, (!) wearing a huge oversized straw hat and swinging from a hammock, with the current song "Something in the Water," playing in the background. Weird. I don't even own a hammock.
It's just inspiring, and so good to know, that not only with clothes, but all decisions in life, all paths taken, roads chosen, any change of direction is just a mind-set away. If you want to make the change, you can, and WILL. It's so easy. You just say "I'm going to look for a new job," "I'm getting a totally new haircut," or in my case "I'm changing my clothing style." It is so uninhibiting to realise you can do whatever you want to in life. As long as you want to.
Now that I've given you my daily awe-inspiring motivational life-quote, concluding tonights mammoth blog post (it started at work and is now ending after midnight at home) I will leave you with this thought for the night:
Everyone knows what eggs are. Eggs are eggs. But what you do with your egg will make a difference. Will you boil, poach or fry? Will you add spices and bacon, spinach and cheese, or place it on toast? What about the quality of your egg? Will it be free-range and wholesome? Grain-fed?
What you make of your very ordinary-seeming egg, will make the rest of your morning. Just as your decisions, will make your seemingly ordinary life, extraordinary.
(Definition to metaphor provided for clarity and due to lateness of post)
I think I was more disgusted at the name given to the recipe, rather than the ingredients used or the recycling of the food itself. No one eats leftovers more than Hubbie and I, so I can't say 'boo' to re-using food at all. But the name, bubble and squeak....... I don't know, what about the recipe, inspired the name Bubble and Squeak? What, about the food, makes it bubble.... and squeak...? Shudder at the thought.
However, this odd food terminology has sprung to mind in thinking about what indeed I should write about. So many odd, random, good and bad things have occurred of late, that I don't really know what to focus my writing attention on.
And this is how bubble and squeak came to mind. Apparently, the bubble and squeak is all the things that have happened lately, and the egg jelling it all together is my life.
Egg is my life. LOL.
And so the following minor stories, observations and episodic details of my life may come at you rather randomly, much like pieces of day-old carrot and peas in a mouthful of distastefully named 'bubble and squeak.'
(I'm only guessing at how it may taste). All this in an effort to bring you up to speed on my life, and also to bring me up to speed in my own life and help me to review it in progress, in what is herein going to be referred to as the 'bubble and squeak' post.
So be warned. I have NOT been taking notes.
When it comes to the good, versus the bad, unfortunately it's the bad that first springs to mind. However that only means that I have all good to end with :)
Mouth absolutely boiled me to my core, once again, on a few occasions. It becomes very hard when you have to deal with a person such as this. Even harder when it's someone in the family who you just can't avoid, unless of course you disown them, which I couldn't do without hurting many people I care about.
I get into this cycle with her. She shits me up the wall > I get upset, broody and moody and keep it all in trying to work it out in my head > it culminates in me practically exploding to Hubbie in anger and tears > after 3 days of wallowing we work out that A) I need to partially ignore her, and B) actually speak my mind and tell her when she is annoying me, in order to avoid the fantasy fights I create of her and I later on in my mind, that eventually drive me crraaaaazzzzzyyyyyyy.
So although we have danced this exact dance many times, I actually need to put the mentioned A and B acts to practice, and follow through. Otherwise nothing will ever change. Only my attitude in how to deal with her will actually change anything for me, because as we all know, an old dog will not learn any new tricks.
Lately I have been sick. Last Thursday, I barely made it into work, the only motivators being that my boss was away and I had extra stuff to do, and also, it was my last day before 3 days off. I made it in, barely could keep myself sitting straight up at my desk just long enough to do what I had to do, and left half way through the day. It was just so unbearable. Not only had I gone through a very sleepless and interrupted nights sleep, waking up what seemed like a zillion times and saying to myself "get up it's time to go to work," when in fact I still had hours to sleep, but my muscles were absolutely aching in agony. I was sooooo sore, every part of me hurt, which made me just want to curl up on my couch at home and sleep. Which I ended up doing.
It was the culmination of what had been a huge October. I don't know who else received it, but I got it a few times, both via sms and email, the chain letter about this recent October having 5 Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays? Yes and then it annoyingly tells you you must keep it going, according to the far-reaching distant natives of the land Makirouchidoo or some other tribal sounding country in order to keep the luck going, UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE. Well it might as well say that, with all the suggestive terminology making you want to send it or else meet some horrible fate. And so I did send it, and due to sending it several times during the month, it occurred to me that hey, this has been a LONG month.
And then I reminisced.
The month began with that awesome grand final win in which the Mighty Magpies brought the cup home! Finally! That had been a big weekend.
We had had my friends over, my close group, which in total added up to 8 of us, for dinner. That was a big night. There was food, there was drink, there were MANY cupcakes. And it was an awesome night.
We had ALL my cousins over. Yes, that drunk post, that was the aftermath. Needless to say I got a little-iddy-bit tipsydrunk, therefore placing the indicator of party success at HIGH.
In between we had side nights (of which I mean people over but not huge to the point of party-status-phere) where my sister came over, and Hubbie's friends. We had a wedding, we had people arriving at the airport from overseas trips. And then the month ended with Hubbie's big birthday bash, where once again we proved we could throw awesome parties and still have fun while doing all the work:)
I think I wore myself out to the disgusting point where 5 days after the last October party, my body started to shut down. It said "screw you, I'm taking leave," leaving the rest of me pathetically screaming "No! Come back damn you!"
And so the muscle aches set in, only after the sore throat and intense sneezing commenced. The flu symptoms were persistent again in days 2 and 3, where again I felt intense fatigue (due to my body running away no doubt) and cleaning the house probably didn't help me much, but hey what else was I supposed to do at home? Yeah I know I know, I could've sat in front of the telly all day. But that would have worked against my whole effective/efficient habit that I haven't been able to kick for the past 9 years.
And so today, a week after my first flu symptoms popped up, I'm still left with a consistent, grating, unrelenting cough. It is really so inconvenient. It's gone from worse, after the weekend of drinking champagne and other home-made apparently 'healing' concoctions, to just annoying now, where I still have to cough every so often - cough cough cough - excuse me, unlike this morning where I felt like I was just hacking up flem.
So all in all, it's getting better.
There was also this little moment late last week, a predecessor before the whole 'sick' thing started.... I had this interesting moment at work with a fellow colleague of mine, that totally bew me out of the water, catching me off guard completely. And it was all to do with cake.
All over some bloody cake.
In true Miss S form, I had decided to bring in to work leftover cake from Hubbie's birthday. I knew there were a few people, who would REALLY appreciate the free cake and all, and having had a huge month that was filled with way too much cakes and cupcakes and just everything sweet, early on I decided that getting rid of the mass amount we still had from Hubbie's birthday would be the right way to go.
And so in I brought it. And as I was finishing off my early shift that day, I happened across a work colleague of mine, who we shall call Kitty. Hmmm :)
She was just starting her shift, and so my intention was to let her know of the few leftover cakes there were near my desk, so she could spread the word to our other fellow workers starting later on that day as well.
As soon as I started the words "Kitty, just so you know there's some cakes over th-"
"No! Don't talk to me about cake!"
And so it began. In a very direct, firm way, she told me:
1. that she was not going to eat any cake
2. people in our work area should not be encouraged to eat cake
3. she wouldn't be responsible for making people eat cake ..............AND
4. if cake was left over, she ALSO wouldn't be responsible for getting rid of it.
What the?! All I mentioned was cake. I was a bit stunned, a bit miffed, and seeing as my sneezing had been accelerating that day, more than sensitive enough, so I was hurt. I felt like she was attacking me, personally, just for bringing in cake.
And all I was doing was trying to be nice. It was about then that another fellow colleague arrived, and I told him quite matter-of-factly that there was cake and that at least HE would appreciate it. I sort of ended the conversation by walking off, without a real proper goodbye to her.
I was really hurt by it all. I pondered it on the way home. I know she had been trying to lose a bit of excess weight that she had gained over the past year (not that she was overweight). I thought of other times that I had brought in cake, and asked myself if I had been pushy in getting people to eat the cake in order to rid myself of it. I wasn't quite sure, but I knew that then, in that moment and in that day, I had merely mentioned it, before getting a barrage of cake-hate spewing out at me.
I spoke to Hubbie about it that night, and even he thought the remarks I'd received were unwarranted and odd. I guess I felt a bit worse, as it's always a little sad when someone you normally like and get along with gives you grief. You wonder 'why' and think of where you have gone wrong. I did just that, and only ended up making myself feel MORE sadder...
Anyways, the next day, arriving at work, I saw an email from her titled 'cakes...'
Part of me had been expecting an email addressing the whole cake issue, so I was not surprised.
Miss S,
Below an email generated in an effort to try to make up for my not wanting cake comments - which came out much harsher than I meant. So sorry about that - I know it's meant in the kindest spirit....
So if they guys don't eat them - I can't say I didn't try!
Kitty
OMG. I always knew the power of Miss S was huge. I've worked in customer service and have gotten a rotten customer to apologise to me for her bitchiness without even trying. I've had my Dad, one of the most stubborn of people, say sorry to me. And he doesn't say sorry or admit to his failures. EVER. I remember Pez, my ex-best friend, calling me up and crying over the phone, saying sorry to just hanging up on me after a stupid fight.
And now this. A woman 10 years my senior, with tonnes more life and work experience, sending me an email to apologise for yelling at me about cakes. (ok not yelling but it sounds better than just 'being firm')
I'm sorry but WOAH. That's big. Of her. To be sorry is one thing, bu to say it out loud to the person you upset in the first place, is a totally different, very rare thing. So I totally applaud her for that.
Following her email to me was the message she had sent to the rest of our department, letting them know, in so many words "cake is here..... eat or else!" So she helped me with my cake distribution, and that, along with admitting her overzealousness in cake-hating, means we are now friends again:)
I have been good in the pursuit of writing my story. I find that when I just start to jot down and write random plot ideas, character traits and story outlines that I am further inspired and motivated to do more research and develop my dream of writing professionally even more. A few nights I have found myself just doodling quite casually, and the following day I find I have the characters and the potential things they could get up to just running around and around in my head. I'm happy with the fact that it stays in my head, because it's sort of confirmation that what I'm thinking is not only interesting, but addictive and worthy, because if it weren't so, I tell ya it wouldn't last long in my over-imaginative mind. I still plan on eventually (whenever I actually finish my first book, after the actuality of beginning to write it) getting Hubbie, Sis and Red to read it and to tell me what their honest, honest, honest opinions on it are. I will ask them to be brutal, and then I think I will run away and hide. Something about getting someone so close to you to critique your work, actually fills me with a sick, sick feeling, and no not the kind that is cough-inducing. More the type that will churn your stomach contents and force them in a vertical motion. Hell, even when I see that people have read my blog, I freak out slightly, and that's people I don't know, with no critical response whatsoever!
But baby steps. All little baby steps. All in the right direction.
Speaking of baby steps. Had a massive, major, incredible !!lightbulb!! moment a few nights ago with Hubbie, Sis and her Hub. It is actually so incredible and major, that if this thing were to eventuate, it could change all of our lives, I believe MAJORLY. But because it is so big, we aren't actually letting people know of our "idea" until hopefully the day that it is fully under way and in full practice. No, sorry I can't even let my imaginary blogger-verse know about it. All off-limits. But I just had to say, it is AMAZING. Funny how something can be under your nose, in your face for so many years, and you just don't know that the opportunity has been staring you in the face the whole time. I think that is called TIMING.
And in more recent fantastic news, I have been shopping. Ahhhhh, how sweet the pursuit of clothes via monetary means and the accumulation of said-clothes can be.
Sweeeetttt.
Yesterday I purchased a very fine jacket. It was during some morning-afternoon shopping before my work shift, and Hubbie and I had just had enough. We were talking about clothes we had, clothes we usually went for, and the clothes that we should go for.
And we made a deal. No longer were we going to go for the safe, normal option. We weren't going to just buy, in my case, more plain tops, black dresses and ballet shoes, or in his case, more chequered shirts and blue polo tops. We were gonna go a bit wild, edgy, and start playing it up. We had decided, and we were sick of it!
Gosh just thinking of our new-found pact, and of all the clothes I could have if I had become shopping-smarter, sooner, just gives me even more AMMO to shop. You see, by always going for the 'safe' shopping option, you end up with a wardrobe that is not only identical, but that lacks creativity. By choosing items of clothing that will go the distance over the coming seasons, you end up lacking the current individuality that you so deserve.
Pieces of clothing can be wild and outrageous, and go the distance, if chosen correctly. I think of the alternative style of dwellers living in the edgy parts of outer-city Melbourne, and I highly doubt that they purchase with the aim of getting the most years out of their clothes, yet they still manage to do so. And still look good in seasons to come. Certainly I don't plan on moving to those suburbs, but the thought of a wild, indy-style wardrobe, with 50s style dresses, hippie skirts, bright colours and edgy alternative cuts of clothing, is greatly appealing to me right now. And what excites me more than anything (perhaps level with the accumulation of clothes though!) is the idea that if it is different, we will not look at the price of an item, we will just buy it.
Let's put that in simpler terms. If something is different = BUY!$!$!
I know! How incredibly monetar-ily free-ing is that idea! Of buying whatever as long as it's DIFFERENT! And Hubbie came up with that idea too. I know I married him for a reason :-D
It's not so easy just to want to do something. You have to also delete all the pre-wired talk in your mind, reset your shopping habits and think outside the square if you're going to start doing things differently. For example this morning, when Hubbie and I were shopping (yet again, we're on a roll) at before-mentioned outer-city suburb, I was in this full bohemian-hippy shop, which had A LOT of dresses. I came across a black and white one with a lot of ruffles near the neck line. It is a gorgeous dress, not too extreme, but even so, when I tried it on, I loved it but was still going "oh, I don't know, it has A LOT of ruffles at the front!"
You see, the old Miss S would have said "those ruffles won't help me move from season to season, year to year." But the new one, asked Hubbie for confidence, pushed through the doubt and went "you know what? I look great in this! I'll buy it!"
Now that I'm thinking differently about my clothes shopping selections and habits, I feel as if I'm a slightly different person, like I'm looking at life all differently. I can even imagine myself in one of the two dresses I bought today, (!) wearing a huge oversized straw hat and swinging from a hammock, with the current song "Something in the Water," playing in the background. Weird. I don't even own a hammock.
It's just inspiring, and so good to know, that not only with clothes, but all decisions in life, all paths taken, roads chosen, any change of direction is just a mind-set away. If you want to make the change, you can, and WILL. It's so easy. You just say "I'm going to look for a new job," "I'm getting a totally new haircut," or in my case "I'm changing my clothing style." It is so uninhibiting to realise you can do whatever you want to in life. As long as you want to.
Now that I've given you my daily awe-inspiring motivational life-quote, concluding tonights mammoth blog post (it started at work and is now ending after midnight at home) I will leave you with this thought for the night:
Everyone knows what eggs are. Eggs are eggs. But what you do with your egg will make a difference. Will you boil, poach or fry? Will you add spices and bacon, spinach and cheese, or place it on toast? What about the quality of your egg? Will it be free-range and wholesome? Grain-fed?
What you make of your very ordinary-seeming egg, will make the rest of your morning. Just as your decisions, will make your seemingly ordinary life, extraordinary.
(Definition to metaphor provided for clarity and due to lateness of post)
Thursday, July 8, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
This Is Sick
It starts with an odd, dry, ticking sensation in your throat, that proceeds to a harsher, dryer, discomfort.
Sort of like a sharp instrument stuck there, and pointing at all sides of your throat.
After coughing a dry cough, for a day or two, the real deal-breaker comes in.
The flem.
It gathers in your throat, and it can either go up or down.
In front of people, you literally have to close your eyes and swallow, take in the slug, and pray it doesn't come back. But in the comfort of your own privacy, you hack and cough and try to get all the shit out, the shit that keeps blocking your throat (and hey now it's getting into your nose, too), but it is relentless and this incredible amount of flem just keeps coming back.
You cough and cough. You don't know why you cough anymore, it almost becomes a habit, getting air out, something out. When you cough it starts to hurt, your lungs heave, your whole chest and rib-cage area are stirred and pressured to an extent that makes you cringe everytime your mouth makes that convulsive "o" shape.
The coughing alternates. Sometimes it's a disgustingly, flem-induced cough, which does nothing more than push the flem that is deep down, stuck in the middle-of-nowhere land right up into your throat.
Again, if in front of people, all you can do is try and keep down this disgusting goo. Your voice is affected: it is scratchy, hoarse, infected and all you can do is pat your chest and keep on coughing.
The other type of cough is the dry, stabbing cough, where you feel the burn as if you are experiencing the driest desert in your mouth, and simultaneously a desert that is filled with knife-wielding men. Now you realise that the sharp instrument in your throat is in fact a cheese grater. You try and swallow (because with this cough, you want to) and fill up your throat with any kind of moisture you can gather, but to no avail. Because you will get better when you are better, and no amount of swallowing, hacking or coughing will do anything to help the cause.
To screw things up even more, just when you think things are getting more bearable, the slightest turn, nod or shake fills your head with such a deep, throbbing intense ache that even lying down doesn't help. It only changes the ache to throb at a horizontal level.
Your head aches when you're in the cold. It aches when you move. It aches most probably because you're not drinking enough water, and you're not drinking water because you'd rather have hot drinks to soothe your damaged, stressed-out throat. Hence the paradox in the situation.
Did I mention the voice? Part drag-queen/whisper/baby/50s sultry screen siren/hormonal teenage boy? Got all that? Yeah, good.
It's so entertaining having your voice break and change in so many levels just in the one sentence.
Halfway through your ill-induced consciousness now known as the only life you know, you actually lose your voice. All that can come out is a raspy, breathy gasp, if that. You think of what your weird hybrid of a voice was previous to this, and ask yourself the question, which would I prefer.... no voice or deformed voice?
Before you have much time to ponder the endless advantages of either option, the drag queen is back.
So all you do is wait for it to be over.
Or get meds from the doctor which is what I did 2 days ago....
Ahh, winter. No other season screws you like this.
Sort of like a sharp instrument stuck there, and pointing at all sides of your throat.
After coughing a dry cough, for a day or two, the real deal-breaker comes in.
The flem.
It gathers in your throat, and it can either go up or down.
In front of people, you literally have to close your eyes and swallow, take in the slug, and pray it doesn't come back. But in the comfort of your own privacy, you hack and cough and try to get all the shit out, the shit that keeps blocking your throat (and hey now it's getting into your nose, too), but it is relentless and this incredible amount of flem just keeps coming back.
You cough and cough. You don't know why you cough anymore, it almost becomes a habit, getting air out, something out. When you cough it starts to hurt, your lungs heave, your whole chest and rib-cage area are stirred and pressured to an extent that makes you cringe everytime your mouth makes that convulsive "o" shape.
The coughing alternates. Sometimes it's a disgustingly, flem-induced cough, which does nothing more than push the flem that is deep down, stuck in the middle-of-nowhere land right up into your throat.
Again, if in front of people, all you can do is try and keep down this disgusting goo. Your voice is affected: it is scratchy, hoarse, infected and all you can do is pat your chest and keep on coughing.
The other type of cough is the dry, stabbing cough, where you feel the burn as if you are experiencing the driest desert in your mouth, and simultaneously a desert that is filled with knife-wielding men. Now you realise that the sharp instrument in your throat is in fact a cheese grater. You try and swallow (because with this cough, you want to) and fill up your throat with any kind of moisture you can gather, but to no avail. Because you will get better when you are better, and no amount of swallowing, hacking or coughing will do anything to help the cause.
To screw things up even more, just when you think things are getting more bearable, the slightest turn, nod or shake fills your head with such a deep, throbbing intense ache that even lying down doesn't help. It only changes the ache to throb at a horizontal level.
Your head aches when you're in the cold. It aches when you move. It aches most probably because you're not drinking enough water, and you're not drinking water because you'd rather have hot drinks to soothe your damaged, stressed-out throat. Hence the paradox in the situation.
Did I mention the voice? Part drag-queen/whisper/baby/50s sultry screen siren/hormonal teenage boy? Got all that? Yeah, good.
It's so entertaining having your voice break and change in so many levels just in the one sentence.
Halfway through your ill-induced consciousness now known as the only life you know, you actually lose your voice. All that can come out is a raspy, breathy gasp, if that. You think of what your weird hybrid of a voice was previous to this, and ask yourself the question, which would I prefer.... no voice or deformed voice?
Before you have much time to ponder the endless advantages of either option, the drag queen is back.
So all you do is wait for it to be over.
Or get meds from the doctor which is what I did 2 days ago....
Ahh, winter. No other season screws you like this.
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