31st August. Get ready Melbourne. Friends. Ex-flames. Aka Tombo. Cookie. Scanlan & Theodore. Robot. E Cucina. Camberwell Market. Nostalgia. And all things that make me warm and fuzzy. You'll have 7 days. I'll have 7 days. To fall in love again, find love, find closure, (re)discover, make it all like how it used to be. Sure it'll be a little different: some have left, some have moved on, some have been sanctioned. But nevertheless, I'm excited. Won't you join me?

Tonight's just one of those nights.
The kind that brings out the monophobic coward in me.
The kind that makes coming home alone, after a shit day, almost unbearable.
Yet of all nights, this should be one that is marked by merry-making, absolute drunkedness, dirty talking, lesbian antics, and silly dance moves.
The rain has cast a horrid aura of eekiness and vulnerability over me and all my excitement about leaving IB behind.
I probably wouldn't survive a month in London alone.
Because nights when I have to cancel plans, wait 30 minutes for a cab whilst clutching to a bouquet of lilies and my 21st century female pride, cook and eat dinner by myself, and put Damien Rice on repeat (god I'm pathetic) while writing this entry,
I feel like crying and being a lot more regular.
I don't care what you think, because even I think it's such a sorry little rant.
I sometimes (like tonight) wish that I was a regular girl. One who'd happily let a nice little boy take care of her, drive her to work, and pick her up again, take her out to dinner, run the bath for her when they get home, watch some tv together, then tumble off to bed. Yes sometimes this once serial-dating, smoking, drinking, wild horse craves normality.

Some things take time to settle down.
Like sediment sinking into the sea bed after a storm;
Exhaustion and the aftermath of sheer resistance.
*
My doctor tells me that I'm suffering from stress-related tension headaches.
Some days like today I walk around just about ready to give up.
Some days I walk around and wish I could just let my legs give way, fall to the ground and let someone else carry me away.
*
2 days to go before I'll kiss my wretched powerpoint career goodbye.
There is no anger. No resentment. Really.
I thought I might be more excited about the departure and new beginnings.
But perhaps I'm just really tired. I don't know of what.
*
I'm looking forward to sleeping in and not letting the hours between 9 and 6 rule my life.
The luxury of being in full control of my time. Spending it my way.
Ah.
*

I think I might have found my next career fling.

So I think my visits to Spotlight (not to mention the 30-minute wait in the cashier line, and nights in spent sewing have paid off (not literally, I'm still operating at a $24 loss).
Apparently Victoria Beckham likes my brooches. My journalist friend Miss L had one of my (two) masterpieces pinned on her chest while interviewing Mrs Beckham a couple of days ago. Lo and behold, Mrs Becks asked where Miss L got the brooch from, because it was rather pretty.
I'm not quite sure how to react. I've never particularly agreed with Mrs Becks' fashion choices. Perhaps I need to speak to D&G about a consignment arrangement? Whatever it is, you know what I'll be doing this evening...

I remain thankful for friends who remind me why I'm me.

Comments: Time after time
well dearie... you spend 1 hour deciding what to wear for the day, 1/2 hour on doing your hair, and another 1/2 hour looking for a pair of shoes to match your outfit. last but not least, 1/2 hour to decide if it would be easier to grab a cab from the opposite side of the road. hugs =)

Posted by Duane at July 6, 2005 10:47 PM

I must be a poor time manager.
I constantly find myself struggling to fit all my nice-to-dos into the hours I'm allocated.
Other people seem to cope just fine -
They have normal lives; work 9-12 hours, have dinner with friends/partner, watch movies, go to the gym, catch most episodes of Desperate Housewives.
And I, well,
I whinge about not having enough alone time.
Yet I find it hard to explain where all my time has gone.
I don't work long hours (not anymore anyway, since I decided to resign. In fact, the boss now asks if I'm alright when I stay past 6.45). I don't have a gym membership, and don't go shopping on weekdays. I don't watch TV, and certainly don't take French lessons.
I need to nab the time bandit.
*
This weekend felt a little like my pre-Singapore routine.
Saturday brunch (Corduroy & Finch - great cafe/deli concept, painfully slow service, food completely overrated) to catch up on previous night's stories and wash out the last traces of alcohol with freshly squeezed juice and black coffee; then easy shopping with girlfriends; half a dinner; and another jeans-and-little-top night out; Sunday morning banter in the kitchen; afternoon cocktails; early onset of Monday blues.
I felt particularly accomplished this weekend. Perhaps because I had time to sew (oh lordy) and speak to the plumber about the clogged up toilet.
And I now realise that busy weekends are good for you.
*

I'm taking a break
From matching Havaianas and blind persistence.
To find some way out of the murkiness that has clouded my big picture.
The reasons that seemed so compelling to me before
Have somehow become shrouded by months of circumstantial (re)adjustments;
Like a misplaced earring that has fallen into the narrow gap between velvet and silver;
Like a child lost in the christmas shopping crowds.
*
In the weeks to come I'll occupy myself with beads and my sewing kit,
I've rediscovered the crafty urges that periodically remind me of my cross-stitching childhood.
I spent last Sunday morning with eye pins, head pins, glass beads, and expat mums.
Last night I spent 3 hours crouched over sachets of pretty little things,
Losing my frayed nerves and overworked mind in a new pet project.
*
Two weeks before I decimate my consulting career.
It's part of my self-betterment plan.
Groundbreaking milestone: moving my lazy arse out of home
Second: handing in that resignation letter
Third: Taking the first step to actualising that jewellery business
~somewhere in between now and the next milestone I'll need to book myself a ticket out of Singapore~
Third: wandering into the world of advertising
*