oh the power of a good book and a hot cup of tea
oh the power of a good book and a hot cup of tea
oh the power of a good book and a hot cup of tea
On my flight back I felt empty. Not bad. But like a husk. That anger, that fear, stress, upset, longing and frustration – it was gone. Subdued. Only left a bruise where there was once a constant banging. Now I feel like I just finished weathering a very rough storm. Where I didn’t think I was going to make it. Where I even forgot where I was sailing. The sun is not out but I can see it above the clouds. It’s there. The thunder is long distant now moving farther and farther to bother someone else. My heartbeat is thumping down, my breath evening out. It’s been a long while now since I felt a nice, comforting warmth in my chest. As I take note of this slowdown I realize it. I made it. I held on. I screamed and cried and cursed at the sky, I almost drowned, I almost gave up and welcomed sinking. I lost myself. I lost my way and I lost the helm. I blamed myself for sailing, I blamed another for mutiny, for the hell of a storm I saw coming in the distance. But again. I really made it. I sailed it and I realize that this was so much more, so much bigger than another. It was something I set out for. There was no crew. It was meant to be solo. And now I remember. I remember there’s a lighthouse lighting my way. There’s a harbor where I can drop my anchor. And when I step off, firm foot on that dock, and walk in this new place, meet new people, start new adventures, make new decisions, learn new things; I will do it – but I will do it, as captain of my own ship.
Some people are meant to be the conductors, the brave ones, the menders. They’re meant to take care of what’s not right, not just be part of a passive, causeless audience. They inquire, they don’t care about invading privacy to set things right. To be that person is not easy, but in the end you’re the one on that stage, you’re the creator of their universes, and because you are who you are, they will all be incredible.
Soundtrack – Damien Rice “9 Crimes”
I had a dream about you 3 weeks ago. It’s not uncommon, you’ve been an ingredient in my subconscious for over 10 years. You and your girlfriend were over. It was odd.
The thought festered though and I began to wonder if it was true. It was entertaining to think about as my life is less than exciting right now. I wondered if you would have the guts to talk to me again, just talk. I wasn’t thinking about heartbreak. I was just thinking that she would have broken up with you and that would be that. That no one, somehow, would be heartbroken.
I found out tonight that you and her really are over. I actually dreamt of something that really happened. I don’t want to think we’re that connected. We are not. Apparently though, you broke up with her. You idiot. This isn’t what I wanted. I don’t want another girl to be upset.
To be clear – I don’t want you back. I don’t think you do me either. I think we know better now. The 5th time won’t be the charm. We should have stopped plenty before. We should have never been probably. I don’t regret you but we really could have skipped number 2,3 and 4 don’t you think?
You were just a large part of my life. When someone reaches the 10 year mark then they can take over. But right now, you just happen to have the largest ratio of time and memories with me.
I was never your most important. I wasn’t “the one that got away”. It doesn’t hurt to know that. It just is that way. We just grew up together. We experienced some things for the first time together but I wasn’t the most important.
I will never forget you but I think sooner rather than later, you’ll be a much more distant memory and someone else will have tipped the scales. You will no longer be the biggest ratio.
I don’t have any emotion for you. Not bad, not good. It’s just you and it’s just me. I know you better than anyone and yet almost not at all. I have met you so many ways, worked, lived and traveled with you multiple times, been with you and against you, sang with you the song I’m listening to, made love to you, ran from you, stuck to you, let you go – plenty.
I have had you so many times and I can’t remember a single one.
Made some delicious saffron rice – thought I’d share it.
- 1 cup of Jasmine Rice (very deliciously fragrant)
- 2 cups of water
- 1 knob of butter (the better the butter the better – now say that 5 times fast)
- 1 teaspoon of saffron (most expensive spice in the world…living in the lap of luxury now aren’t we?)
- 1/4 of a teaspoon of kosher salt if your butter was already salted otherwise 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt…if you’re going to use normal table salt for some reason (kosher is the greatest) then use 1/4 and then salt to taste later because I have a feeling it’ll be too salty using 1/2 tsp.
-1/2 a yellow onion chopped into medium chunks (however you want it really because you’ll end up eating it but it will just get mixed up in the rice)
1. Put a saucepan or very small pot on high heat and pour the rice and butter there until the butter melts and you stir it through. You do not want the butter or rice to brown just warm it up a bit.
2. Pour water, salt, saffron and onion pieces in and bring to a boil.
3. Once at a boil reduce heat so everything is simmering and put a lid on it
4. Depending on your heat and size of the pot the rice will cook in about 15 to 25 minutes. Do not make it cook to a mush. Even slightly undercooked is better. Check it by eating a little grain after 15 minute (don’t burn yourself please).
5. Turn the heat off and leave the lid on. After 15 minutes all the water should have been absorbed and you can use a fork to fluff your rice (which should be tinted yellow from your awesome saffron).
I served mine with sautéed courgettes and it was deeeeeelicious.
I got a little extra fancy on my second serving the next day (split the rice in 2 portions) and put some toasted pine nuts in it and some golden raisins…mmmmmm
I made it back home….alive-ish
Currently eating some saltines and sipping some room temperature water….
My arms were so weak I couldn’t lift my keys up to the door for 30 minutes right after the gym.
I knew tonight would have been a challenge because my arms are the weakest part of me, always have been (never ever could master the monkey bars in school or at the park – just climbed everything but I guess my legs were the real strength source).
I got through 1 and 1/2 of the entire workout. Not bad considering I only got through 1/2 of the first day when I was doing legs/cardio…which, by the way, completely destroyed my legs in the sense that I literally whimpered loudly and uncontrollably every time I had to sit down for the past 2 days (to pee for example) or stand up (from my office chair – humiliating). I didn’t walk like I took it up the ass though (sorry to be crude here) so that’s a sort of personal win.
I tried stretching, putting arnica cream 5 times throughout the day, hot, cold, massaging…still painful….sigh I thought I was in shape damn it. I better regain the ass of a life time with this.
Anyways – these workouts make me feel like I want to puke right in the middle of them and about 2 hours after. I don’t know how to fix this. I drink water before, not a lot during so I don’t get sick, I don’t eat right before…I’m definitely pushing myself too hard but not sooooo badly. I mean I feel like puking but there hasn’t actually been any ejection…although sometimes throughout the workout I kind of wish it would just happen if it would cure the horrible nausea and headache I feel. I must be doing something wrong but I don’t know what.
Oh and also I found out apparently I cannot do a sit up without putting my feet under something and using my legs really to pull me up…basically rendering the whole sit up, working out your ab muscle thing, pointless. What the flip right?!
And I confirmed my vague thoughts about not being able to really do a full push up…I dip about 3 inches down max (don’t judge me).
I hope this entire workout isn’t just going to be me bitching, bitching, bitching…at the same time that’s almost what I use this blog entirely for – muahahhaha
Tomorrow we will see if I am able to use my arms. If I can’t drive or type or pick things up…I will not go to work, I swear…so I doubt this will happen.
I’m guessing, and truly hoping, that by doing as much as I can on each workout, I will slowly build up to being able to work out without feeling like death and slowly build some more muscle in my arms and legs and abs so I don’t have such a hard time…I believe this is what exercise is supposed to do but knowing me – anything could happen lol I
I don’t want to just go back to my running routine – although pleasant I don’t think it will so much anymore to just run without any strength training…and I’ll probably injure myself again.
I’m about to dose myself with magnesium to relax my muscles and hopefully sleep.
I’m not fat or anything but I think I’m the chubbiest I’ve been in almost 10 years right now.
All of last year up to May of this year I was pretty much running every night and working out and eating my favorite things (which luckily for me is basically a 90% vegetable and fruit based diet)….then I injured my ankles and took my trip to EU and then came back and had to catch up on the millions of things I left behind for not even a month and so and so forth and now it’s September and I’m a little tea pot – short and stout….
I got fitted for more cushiony running shoes, also good for polymetrics. They’re ASICS and I love them. I’ve been “power walking” for a week to make sure my injury was healed and because I’ve become so blubbery and out of shape I wasn’t sure if I could even make it for 30 minutes on a treadmill. Turns out I can…and my ankles don’t kill me although I didn’t run to check because I’m afraid they’ll hurt and I’ll just be upset.
So after some light “warming up” for a week….tonight was my first day of the Kayla Itisness 12 Week Bikini Body Guide.
I swear I was going to vomit, have a heart attack and pass out.
I only made it through the 2 circuits once (Legs & Cardio) and I had to keep taking breaks to spit in the trash can and try to keep my heart out of my throat. During the workouts my legs would almost give out which made it even harder to do them correctly and fully. I literally couldn’t stand or walk afterwards. I did the stretches she gives you while I tried to get back to a normal breathing pattern and my heart didn’t feel like it was going to stop at any moment in my throat.
From the gym, up the stairs, to the house, my legs were like soggy noodles. I also felt like vomiting hardcore.
Luckily I have a stool in the shower and I sat down while I washed my hair. I thought I was going to die there too anyways, or pass out minimally.
Now my legs have regained some feeling but still feel weak. It makes me laugh but I don’t think it’s funny…
I feel like an idiot. I used to run every day how am I such a blob now?! I’ve only stopped for 3 months…ugh
Tomorrow it’s more power walking. Wednesday I think it’s abs or something…will try to get through the 2 circuits twice as I should, but I refuse to die trying. I’m literally scared for Wednesday to come. I guess it’s good because my last workout routine was just keeping me lean but not doing much more -so this is a major challenge at least. There’s so many before and afters of this workout program on instagram it’s gotta do something…if only I can get through the damn circuits as needed. *Sigh*
Hopefully tomorrow my legs aren’t shaky because I have to wear heels and stand around for a while…If I fall and vomit on someone I swear I will fly to Australia and get this girl to train me until I’m not this sort of blubby sea cucumber with soggy noodle legs.
- Sea Cucumber
Soundtrack: “Rain Song” – Clem Leek
I have one boy in my family. He’s younger than me. He’s never gotten into trouble, he finished school well even when he had troubles studying, he works with his sister in a company that they started and is going very well, he lives at home and is not a slob, he accomplished a great deal for being so young and he’s just overall someone everyone admires and likes.
He hadn’t had much experience in the “relationship” ambit of life. Not a virgin but really nothing more than a fling here and there. He’s an “over thinker”. He’s a gentleman almost to a fault, extremely picky and he’s stubborn as hell and thinks he knows better; period. (Must be a family trait?)
Recently – as the heavens opened up and light from the gods shone down, he finally made up his mind about someone and started a relationship. Is she up to par with him? Truthfully no, but she’s not bad at all. I answered the few sex questions that came up at the beginning of their “honeymoon” phase and let him be; barely hearing a peep sometimes from that general direction. Knowing I was just to leave him to live his life and be happy watching him become the man he is growing up to be.
A month or so later, today, we had dinner and he told me of a bad fight they had. He told me everything from his point of view. What she said, her inability to understand him, how he feels he does it all, how she doesn’t appreciate him, how she’s always troubled, how she is, isn’t and all of the possible wrongs. I offered my own experience and tried to push him to see that maybe he just needed to be smarter about talking to her, that she, only like many women, just want to be passionately wanted every second of every minute, every hour of every day…forever. He doesn’t like it. He’s a stubborn a-hole and he was upset.
It made my heart ache. I don’t know if they’ll stay together. I don’t know that he’ll be happy. I know it’s not a big deal and I definitely know, through much experience, that break ups happen and that people move on and things can get better.
But oh god it hurt. I wanted to rip the problem away from him and throw it into a violent and erupting fire. I wanted him to feel relief immediately. I felt helpless. How do parents do this? How did my own mother watch as I broke down in tears day after day after even just my most recent break up? How does your heart not break too?
I had a “play date” with my beautiful god-daughter this morning. We went out to eat and play together outside and color and practice writing her name. She held my hand everywhere, she told me what she wants to have for her 5th birthday coming up, she told me about her friends at school and mum and dad and the new kitten they got. She was so beautiful and so innocently happy. Later tonight I wondered in despair; “What am I going to do when I have to sit there and watch her cry her heart out because of a stupid boy?” “What if she never does?” “Is there someone out there who has never cried because of someone else?” I was in a panic but knew that it was almost inevitable and that I wasn’t certainly going to stop her from being with anyone to not ever feel this way.
I know everyone must have their own experiences. They must live for themselves. Offering solutions, most of the time, doesn’t actually help. You must be there to listen and acknowledge their existence and their problems, not solve them. This is support. The person can be helped in various ways to become the responsible and productive adult that they can be. One that can handle their own life and share their triumphs with the people they choose to have around. They must be their own solution.
This is the equivalent of being in the driver seat with someone just learning to drive. You cannot jump across the seats and drive for them. You cannot scream and yell so much that they freeze up – terrified of making a mistake. You cannot stop them from driving in the first place so they never get hurt.
You can teach them what you know, lead by example, share your own experiences, help them grow to be strong, educated and responsible. You can come up with all the safety measures and rules under the sun, moon and stars – but in the end, they have the keys, they are in the driver seat and as much as you love them, as much as you’re terrified they will crash or get damaged; they must make their own way. They must drive where they want, and all you can do, after giving them all the tools to be the best possible driver, is be the best passenger you can be.
There might be a time where they too will be passengers. And there they will really understand and admire you for all the times you just hummed along to their soundtrack while they sped through highways, swerved by obstacles, waded through rain, traced back their steps, cursed at maps and traffic, ran out of gas, piled their car with friends and lovers, good and bad, and you never once stopped smiling, got angry or impatient, doubted them or asked to be let out, no matter how heartbreaking or scary it got.
Because really, you were proud they were driving. And you were happy to be there.
And when they’ve reached their destination, they will remember you were there, no matter what, along for the ride.
Because you were proud.
Because you supported them.
Because you loved them so much.
Everyone wants you for something, but I just want them to be happy regardless of the possible return
Soundtrack: “You’re so very far away” – Clem Leek
I’ve been on a roller coaster. Up through the most incredible clouds and rising in front of the most beautiful and brightest sun on a limitless horizon; just to free fall down, fearing life itself towards dark black coal and mines of despair. There are twists and turns on the way down, some nice, some almost ignorant of what’s below or above me, some teetering on the edge of cliffs and some bordering fields of my most precious dreams, taking me on a tour of my deepest wishes.
Life is improbable and sometimes scary. I’ve been feeling so angry and hopeless. Why is it that things happened this way? Why am I always here? Why does this happen? Why? Why? Why?
We can’t all just be plainly living life. I can’t sit in my office every day and wait for the day to end. I am wishing my life away. I am playing always the same certain tune. I know how it starts, I know how it changes and I know how it ends. And all the meanwhile I wish it were different.
There is something to be said about loyalty, about responsibility and duties. I wear my “badges” proudly. I know I can be counted on. I know I can help and be available. I can help everyone around me succeed. I love that. I love it but I want it for myself as well.
The pendulum is swinging, the clocks are ticking and my hand is itching again to slam on this improbability drive…and soon I’ll have to pick where I want to be next. Will I live back in California? maybe New York? Maybe throw it all to hell and go to Paris and get to know my other family. Maybe run away to somewhere to the edge of the earth, maybe not. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Moving forward and changing is scary sometimes. Most of the times for me lately. I think I engaged so much into such an improbable life that I scared myself completely still. If 16 year old me would see me now she would be awed but very confused. She would reject this future but understand why I did it. I worked so hard not to be so impetuous, so improbable, to fit in, to “not be a problem” for my family, that I encased myself in a life I really was never bred for. Some people are born to be lovers. Some people are born to be parents, or artists or teachers or dentists, doctors and even marine biologists.
I was born to be this. An improbable, highly unlikely and ever moving infinite “drive” for lack of a better word. To be anything and everything in whatever quadrant of whichever galaxy I happen to pop-up in. Worrying about who I am and what I am supposed to be isn’t so farfetched now is it?
I think I’m coming to terms with it. I, like every lover, parent, artist, teacher, dentist, doctor and marine biologist; am different. The masses mix us up and blur the lines to make us all look the same. One big conglomeration of negatives. But the positives, the uniqueness of every being in this life and universe is, and always will be, different and truly good.
It takes courage to be yourself. To stand up and walk your own way. Make your own path, untraveled by anyone else prior. To not falter when even your closest loved ones deem you wrong, crazy or simply ignore you. But I’ve always said and truly believe that it takes real responsibility to admit and be yourself. No matter who follows and loves you because of it, no matter who you lose as you start down your own road. That courage is not lack of fear but the ability to go through something no matter how scared you are because you know it’s for the greater good.
The trick is really, truly finding out that being yourself is something towards the greater good, and that you just have to take that first step, and make sure, that the next foot follows.