Your Thoughts Now...v6

i wish i had something witty or funny to say except there isn't any.
i've just got a lot of human things going on in my mind.
some of it really isn't kosher to say in public.
some of it i've chosen to keep purely as mine alone.
they bear no relevance to anyone except my life
and it seems pure indulgence to post it all on the internet
or maybe i just don't want to be accused of wanting attention?

whatever....

these thoughts remain purely mine.
where i won't have to make excuses if they aren't witty or remotely funny.
just imprints and cycles in my neurons - nothing more.

i've started thinking - of what use are half measures in this life?
half measures...are like tepid water...
or a low insipid stuttering fire that won't give out enough heat nor light

tepid water won't ever make good tea or coffee
tepid water is like tepid love

of what good is tepid love?
its as good i think as a low and insipid stuttering fire that won't give out enough heat nor light
it will never be in sufficient amounts for it to hurt enough
nor will it ever be in sufficient amounts to cause you to die of happiness

who wants a tepid love?
that like tepid water that doesn't make good tea or coffee
that like a tepid, insipid fire that won't ever be enough to cause hurt or happiness

I'm too tired for anything tepid....
Too tired for anything stuttering...
Too tired for anything insipid....

Your Thoughts Now...v5

it is cold and raining outside much like autumn weather and all i want to do is curl up in my bed with my books and my notebooks and my mac....the heat of the machine is great on my lap because the radiator in the room isn't working very well.

i keep thinking about what a colleague told me on the shop floor yesterday as i was saying my goodbyes to various people before i left. she told me 'my dear let me tell you that all your dreams, all that you've ever wished or hoped for will come true. happiness will be with you - trust me'. 24 hours later her words are still ringing in my head - this after my nightly prayers asking for comfort and reassurance. it couldn't have been more blatant a sign.

her kindness made such an impact on me - more than any material gift anyone could have given me as a parting gift. it reminded me that the things most valuable really can never be bought.

it also reminded me that gifts of incredible value can come not just from the ones you love but sometimes from complete strangers as well.

i keep hearing it in my head....'my dear let me tell you that all your dreams, all that you've ever wished or hoped for will come true. happiness will be with you - trust me'.

not a bad playlist in my head i say.

Jagged Little Pill

is the album of my life.

i know every lyric of every song - well almost. including 'your house' which was a hidden track in the original CD pre-Ipod days.

when it first came out, it officially became the anthem album of all the angry, angsty, depressed and vengeful. i guess the janis joplin pop equivalent of my generation.

'hand in my pocket', 'you ought to know' and 'ironic' were constantly on repeat in my head.

then i got into psychotherapy, got medicated a bit. the same way we go through music depending on what's going on in our life, the album was relegated to the bottom of my CD pile.

i completely forgot about it. then ten years after it came out, alanis re-made the cd completely re-doing the arrangements using an acoustic approach.

i didn't know what to expect. when i bought it, i stared at the packaging for some time trying to recall how MUCH I LOVED this album. strangely, i was frightened a bit remembering how incredibly angry i was with myself and with life when i loved this album so much.

except at that point, i wasn't angry anymore.

it took me a few days to unwrap the CD and when i finally summoned up the guts to listen to it, i realized alanis had grown up with me.

the acoustic arrangement gave the lyrics a whole new feel. it was as if, the angry woman gave way to someone who was wiser.

it was a world of a difference - those two versions. its like two different women: the first was someone who just discovered her power and was enjoying inflicting it on every person. the second was someone who finally recognized that real power is acceptance of the fact that occasionally we will be powerless, but it will be alright because, as with all things in this life, good or bad, everything will eventually pass.

when a woman is 25, she rages and demands for the world to accept her on her own terms. when a woman is 35, provided she has learned to live a little, the woman has accepted herself on her own terms and no longer gives a damn whether the world feels the same way.

that is the difference between the two versions of both albums.

or maybe, in the absence of anything better to do, i am trying too hard to justify why this album just won't quit my playlist. ever.

Only Love Is Real

thinking about the new book i am reading about 'many lives, many masters' by dr. brian weiss.

he's a pyschiatrist who's a super hotshot in the medical world in his field. and the proponent of reincarnation and past lives based on the groundbreaking psychotherapeutic treatment he embarked on with a patient that set him on this course.

because of his reputation as a firm scientist, he has escaped the ridicule that would have been likely to follow him. instead, he has opened the door to people opening their minds to the thought that while we all would like to think that we have only one life to live, we actually have many - one after the other.

the basic tenet is that we are all essentially spirits aiming to achieve the highest level of spirituality. we are all then sent to live physical lives because each physical life teaches us lessons. in order to progress to a higher spiritual state, we MUST learn our lessons and not learning them means being sent back progressively over several lifetimes until we learn. and that the physical state is the lowest state we can ever be in because unlike a soul, the physical body cannot transcend time and space.

albert einstein knew this in his soul before anyone else did. only someone who was tapping into the wisdom of the infinite universe could ever have realized time and space is relative from the point of the universe where you are standing from.

i imagine that einsten is now in a spiritual level further on than many of us.

this is not a wisdom alien to us, from way back thousands of years ago. all religions have their own tenets about reincarnation including that of christianity. it was only erased from the bible by then emperor constantinople and his mother because they feared it would make people complacent and not repent for their sins if they were allowed to believe that we make up for our lack over a course of many lives instead of just one.

i've always believed in reincarnation ever since i was a child who stumbled across it in my readings. yes - i was a strange child who read about many things that were very strange for a child to read.

it's as if this knowledge has always been part of me - and reading about it made intuitive sense to me. when i read about it, i just knew without a shadow of a doubt about its truth.

many times in my life, i meet people for the first time and we feel as if we've known each other forever. some that i meet first time, i intensely dislike for no reason - as if this person had hurt me before and i was being warned by some supernatural signal to stay away.

many times i experience the sense of having been somewhere before, though i have only been there the first time. of knowing, a certain moment had happened before and sometimes even recalling the previous times when i remember that a certain moment had happened to me before, twice or even thrice.

and it's not just me. everyone gets it too. everyone gets their own moments. some are more aware of it than others.

the book also says, over the course of many lifetimes, the same people are often with us. sometimes changing roles, in one life they are our father and in the next our neighbor, in the next our lover. their roles alter depending on what lessons our souls need to learn.

sometimes though someone appears in our lives whom we have never known before. but everyone we meet is pre-destined. NOTHING and NO ONE in our life is a coincidence. what we do with them, how we choose to treat them, what we experience with them whether we learn from them or to distance ourselves from them is OUR CHOICE.

and in the choices we make, we weave our own karma that will determine the circumstances for our progressive lives. ultimately, our life and our future lives will be woven by our own hands, dictated by the choices of our own hearts.

controversially, it also says, our souls choose the next moment when we will again be re-born. and when we will die. and that we actually choose who to be born to.  perhaps, every lifetime is meant to begin with the lesson of acceptance - for as physical beings we always believed we can never choose our parents thus, who we come from. and it is a startling concept to actually be faced with.

that dying is one experience of indescribable immense peace, freedom from any kind or state of pain and luminosity.

that when we die, our souls move to a place where we converse with other souls, where higher spirits tell us what we learned in our lives and what we still have yet to learn. then after our soul is ready, we are again re-born: at a time of our choosing and to parents of our choosing as well.

it also says, essentially, we are all souls linked together into a common universe.

above all, it says nothing ever really lasts in every lifetime - not disease, not war and not even death. when we die, only our souls and love remain.

ultimately, it says, only love is real.

even if you will never believe in reincarnation because you won't or can't understand it, surely you understand and believe that in the end - ONLY LOVE IS REAL.

KICK-ASS

kicks ass - MAJORLY.

possibly one the of the best interpretations of the overly used 'coming of age' theme i have seen in a long time.

i realized, my children will grow up in a world that i could really never have imagined. where with the help of a tiny screen streaming images, superstars from nowhere are suddenly born. justin bieber, susan boyle, panacea, julie and julia.....

its easy to see how someone could imagine superheroes being born. its easy to understand how all the power of this technology could make anyone imagine or aspire to levels that perhaps ordinary humans twenty years ago would never have thought to aspire to.

it's a story of self-discovery that this generation can all relate to, understand. it is a generation, which i hope, is smart enough to actually understand the metaphors the movie used. they are all regurgitated universal storylines brought to life with a modern interpretation of violence softened by the fantastic sheen of a comic book.

a mad man's twisted desire for revenge born out of love, a daughter's desire for her father's approval, a young man's dilemma of being asked to choose between the truth about kick-ass and the truth about his father's character, a young man's ambitions to be larger than himself and aspirations to human nobility temporarily being shelved for teenage love and most of all, sex with the hottest girl he has ever known.

watching the movie made me feel like a teenager reading a comic book - at some points you are so engrossed you begin to believe you ARE HIT-GIRL then the hilarity of the cleverly devised action stunts of the pint-sized angelina jolie wannabe takes over and you realize, hey it's a moving film of a comic book.

the movie is incredibly clever, amusing, entertaining and imaginative. it also has a smashing soundtrack.

"What do they know about us?
Are they thinking of somebody else?
Are they wondering what we might be?
Are they thinking of you or of me?

We are the dream
No other way
To be

We are young
We are strong
We're not looking for where we belong

We're not cool
We are free
And we're running with blood on our knees"

KICK-ASS by MIKA.

KICK-ASS is one of the COOLEST MOVIES i have seen in a very long time. don't wait as long as i did to see it.

You Know You Are a Woman When...

you are down to your last 80 pounds, it is five days away from your next payday but when you find the pair of kurt geiger boots you've been lusting for on sale, marked down to £80 from the original £180 because YOUR size happens to be the LAST pair they have and they just want to get rid of it, you GLADLY fork over the money.

you try on 2 sizes of jeans - one which is slightly too small and your muffin top belly is sort of hanging over the edge and one fits you just right but of course the fact that it is a larger size than what you tell people you are just bothers you to death. you take half an hour dilly-dallying in the fitting room as to which one to take, you wisely take the larger size because muffin top bellies horrify you but right when you are at the till, you walk out of the line, grab the smaller size pair, you quickly run out of the shop once they have bagged it and you immediately tell yourself 'right NO carbs for the month'. you then spend the remainder of the day torturing yourself with thoughts of all those times you shoved cake in your mouth when your brain was telling you STOP.

you have several pairs of granny panties which you wear when you have your period because they hold your pads firmly, they're super comfy because they hug your cramping woman's belly and heck there is ABSOLUTELY no chance your man will catch you wearing them because it's that time of the month.

you intuitively know the difference between beige, cream, eggshell, taupe, off-white and champagne.

you always keep checking out other women's bodies and you always tell yourself 'wow at least i don't have her saddlebag thighs/bulging belly/flabby arms/fat legs/droopy boobs'

every time you see a woman with a better bag than yours, you want to rip it away from her and hit her on the head with it. several times.

you can psychically feel pain in your feet when you see another woman trying to rock the latest 7 inch gladiletto (the gladiator-stilletto) but is miserably failing with every mincing step she takes.

you can spot the woman wearing spanx under her clothes without the help of infrared vision goggles.

you stop to hold open the door for another woman pushing her baby pram with one hand while holding her toddler's hand in another. you also chastise the man sitting on the tube to get up and give the pregnant woman standing beside you his seat.

you never go back to the shop where you, in the effort to be friendly, asked the shop assistant 'when is the baby due?' and she told you 'i'm not pregnant actually'. in fact recalling the memory makes you go beet red.

you want to take every crying child and lonely puppy into your arms, make them feel safe and loved and spoil them rotten for the rest of their lives - and you want Clive Owen to do the same for you.

you LOVE, ADORE and WORSHIP Oprah.

you order a diet coke because a regular coke is just WAY too much to go with the double-double-bacon-double cheese-onion ring burger with supersize fries with garlic-mayo dip.

you like to mess with your man's head by asking him 'damned with whatever the response will be' questions like 'do my jeans make my bum look saggy?', 'is my eyeshadow even?', 'does my lipstick make my teeth look yellower?', 'does my new hair color make my skin look sallow?'

you decide what starter and entree to order by first looking at the dessert menu.

you end up coming in late to work because the outfit you decided to wear last night was too tight in the morning because of PMS bloating, which irritated the hell out of you, which made you rip out all the clothes in your closet and scatter all over the bed and the floor in the desperate attempt to find something suitable to wear, which made you angrier, which made you pull out your FAT trousers and FAT top, which you then decided to wear for work, which made you MISERABLE because they make you feel fat, which makes you even angrier because you came in to work late and you spend the rest of the day feeling angry, miserable, tardy and FAT.

you read my entire list and laughed your head off at every single one of them, screaming 'OH MY GOD THAT IS SOOOOOOOO TRUE!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN SOOOOOOOOOO RELATE TO IT'.

Susan Boyle and The Phenomenon of All Your Wildest Dreams Come True (or so you think)

i was one of those who watched susan boyle's initial audition and like many people in britain and pretty much all over the world, wept buckets for her and silently prayed she would win the top prize.

she was crowned first runner-up but actually ended up the big winner. youtube virtually guaranteed she would.

overnight, this woman who previously lived alone with her cat in a small scottish village, outsold rihanna, shakira and adam lambert. those glossed up, writhing, rude boy, glambert people didn't hold a candle to this woman who even with the best makeover teams on both sides of the atlantic still managed to look like your everyday aged, spinster auntie, albeit a much more glam version.

even elaine paige, whom susan boyle idolized, could only throw a hissy fit about susan's success, calling her 'a virus'. this brought on no doubt by the green monster. susan after all, has achieved what most emerging british artists dream about, which is to break america and boy, break it she did. sorry elaine paige - i don't ever recall your name being mentioned while i was in america nor did my american relatives ever mention knowing you. they do know about susan boyle though.

susan boyle's 'i dreamed the dream' has become officially, the fastest selling launch album of ANY female artist. take that lady gaga.

i think every single artist who launched their album at the same time susan did are continually scratching their heads as to how this woman outsold them all.

i think the formula is simple - everyday in every part of the world, there are millions upon millions of us living lives like the one susan had before she stepped out of the house to audition. millions of us, who live like zombies, wake up, go to work, go home, go to sleep and wake up to the same boring humdrum life. during our most lucid moments, the occasional thought hits us 'is this the rest of how my life is going to be?' which strikes momentary fear into our hearts. however, the more anesthetized of us manage to push this question away and fall back into the same life simply because it is easier.

this was susan boyle for 47 years. alone in a little village in scotland with only her cat. that was her life and it certainly looked like it was going to be that way.

however, one day, one of us sleeping millions, will just suddenly decide, we are tired of asking 'is this how the rest of my life going to play out?'

and just like susan, she decided, what the heck, i'm going out to audition. and voila - destiny intervened and with the almighty power of the internet her life changed in a heartbeat.

susan represents all those sleeping millions who still one day hope that, by some lucky stroke of fate, prayer or even freak coincidence, their boring lives will one day too change overnight. one day, they will wake up and find that all their wildest dreams have all come true.

but in the case of susan boyle, instant fame meant heartaches she couldn't have ever anticipated like paparazzi intrusion. gossip about her psychological meltdowns have been rife and i do believe she is still waiting for her first kiss.

all your wildest dreams come true or so you think.....

granted, i don't think susan ever regrets having stepped out of her house to audition that day. meltdowns and waiting for your first kiss to still happen are considerably softened by a few million pounds in the bank. like my aunt always used to say 'you know whats worse than being miserable? its being miserable WITHOUT money'

perhaps though every now and then, she thinks, 'i thought this was all my dreams come true...but i guess not quite...but it's still a heck of a LOT better than my previous one...HARHARHAR take that elaine paige' (cue paparazzi flashbulbs leading to psychological meltdown at this point).

i'm a full believer in chasing dreams and never compromising what we have always wished for ourselves. even if what we want for ourselves changes every now and then. and i don't believe in any way that susan boyle is a cautionary tale of 'be careful of what you wish for'.

i believe you should go on the roller coaster ride that is your dream but be prepared to occasionally be sick and for the possibility to even vomit your guts out when the ride is over.
at the end of the day, i've found that sometimes the prize isn't necessarily the goal you set out to achieve - the real prize is having the balls to have done it anyway such that reaching the goal only becomes the icing on the cake.

that's why there's only one susan boyle. that woman had the balls to say, 'ok i'm sick of this being my life - i'm going out there to audition knowing full well I will be jeered at and ridiculed but what the heck? people already ridicule my life anyway so here goes nothing'.

what's the line? be afraid but go ahead anyway.

i heart susan boyle still..

now....who in the world won britain's got talent again last year and where the heck are they? just asking..........

Re-post from Mary Morrissey

‘The universe is immense and gorgeous and magnificent. I salute it. Every speck, every little fly on the window salutes the universe. Every leaf has meaning. I think the universe is still expanding. It is experiencing and accomplishing and we have the opportunity to add to its glow. Everybody can love in the place where they are. Everybody can love in the place where they are, in the physical body in which we are, in the life in which we are involved. We can all add our share of love without even leaving our room.”

Your Thoughts Now: 2

i think that this writing down the thoughts that are in your head without bothering to make sense of them is starting to make sense.

first of all, i want to kill this shameless hussy who is flirting with MY twitterman.

second of all, i don't know how to confirm or deny once and for all the persistent rumors that twitterman - may BE gay.

third - i am going back to getting on a better diet and eating plan as i have just been reminded that a notorious diabetic gene exists in my family. having seen the physical devastation it has wrought on various family members, i have no inclination to suffer from it.

fourth - i still can't get over the fact as to how good MY twitterman is looking now with the added muscles on his frame. PLEASE GOD LET HIM BE STRAIGHT. my gaydar has never failed before but like all things - there is always a first time. PLEASE GOD DON'T LET THIS BE THE FIRST TIME MY GAYDAR FAILS.

fifth - i am wondering what to do tomorrow as it is my day off and i don't want to spend it trapped doing household chores. so i am staying up a little bit late doing the laundry. and other bits and bobs.

i am also every now and then uttering a silent prayer for my friend who needs comfort and love right now. i want her to know she is in my thoughts and of course, my prayers for her safety and recovery.

i am beginning to think as i read back some of the things i had written in my older blogs that this new one is utterly boring and useless. i am tempted to rip out the better ones i had written previously and paste them in the new one to comfort myself with the thought that when i am in the right frame of mind - i can actually write.

i've been reminded yet again that my worries are all petty and useless. there is really nothing much more to do in this life than take it by the horns and do something with it.

Your Thoughts Now

am writing this because in one of those daily inspiration sites i subscribe to, they sent me this line saying - write down your thoughts now as the unsolicited words are often the richest.

i don't know necessarily if my thoughts now are exactly rich but here goes....

i should stop having these late night dinners coming home from the late shift. while it hasn't happened yet, i am continually plagued by thoughts of getting fat from these late night binges.

i haven't written anything in ages. i have lists of articles and topics i want to write about. bits and pieces of research, initial ideas for the book my good friends are telling me to write but they remain nothing more than bits and pieces of ideas. i am deluged with the daily tasks of living like laundry, work, eating late night dinners after coming home late.

i am starting to get bothered that i am unable to sleep without taking painkillers. i am also bothered by the fact that i actually get excited about taking my painkillers before sleep and look forward to that wonderful drowsiness that overtakes me.

i am still missing my sasha very much. only now, i miss her knowing i will never see her again. it is a double whammy of a miss session and i still cry buckets when i am alone.

i am feeling quite down, vulnerable and lost yet again. i try to tell myself how far i have come and how much i have achieved thus far but it seems like a hollow victory. i don't know why.

i tell myself to stop driving myself dizzy with things to do and wait for the answer to come. that is the problem. i am not very good with waiting.

praying - i have been doing more of it and i am also feeling better because of it. and meditating. sometimes ten minutes is all my mind can take and trying to be silent and one with the moment is very much a struggle. so i just take the ten minutes when i can and don't beat myself up about it.

thinks twitterman is actually very boring even though he is very good looking. a bit of a doofus as well. but still...a very good looking one. lol!

is going to start dieting tomorrow. will cut back on carbs because i am afraid of getting fat with all these late night dinners. and will lessen those 'i deserve all this ice cream because i am very, very tired, i feel quite down, lost and vulnerable' moments.

i am starting to feel sleepy now. the painkiller pill beckons.....til tomorrow....

Speechless, Spineless, Grinning Idiot called...Me.....

i came face to face again with twitterman. to those who know who he is count yourself among the lucky 5. to those who don't know him...well that is life. we all must keep a few secrets to ourselves.

amazingly after a loooong spell. he remembered me. he asked how i was - and stood there DUMBSTRUCK. i couldn't say ANYTHING. the queen of snappy comebacks was absolutely rendered SPEECHLESS...and all i could think of was 'Jilly - you are a USELESS, SPINELESS, TOOOO BADLY CRUSHING ON HIM GIRL!!!!'

i think he may have started working out - where he finds the time out of his incessantly long hours is a major question. all i could think of when i saw him was 'OMG he's filled out!!!! he's broader, put on about 10 pounds of muscle in his shoulders and arms....THUD (fainting spell at this point)

listen this man is already BEAUTIFUL to begin with - seeing a filled out version of him was like appreciating a tenderloin steak which had morphed into rib-eye.

and i DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING REMOTELY WITTY OR FUNNY TO SAY. and what did i eventually say? 'How are you?'

LOSER.

i stood there and grinned at him like a girl. and he grinned happily back. i could read his thought balloon 'She has such a BAAAADDDDD crush on me'. and my thought balloon was 'I have such a BAAADDDDD crush on you- you beautiful walking rib-eye steak of a man!!!!!'

so after 5 minutes of grinning and small talk i mustered all the energy i had to pretend to walk away nonchalantly - like my insides hadn't turned into quivering jelly. i was willing my knees to 'WALK! WALK! WALK!'.

the whole tube ride back home, i kept hitting my head on the wall in my mind. STUPID, STUPID, STUPID girl!!!! i am such a GIRL!!!!!

God help me...I just don't know what to do with myself...and Twitterman...LOL!!!!

Random Missiles: Strictly for Adults Only

like most filipina girls, i went to an all girls catholic school. one of the things they emphasized was that premarital sex was vile and immoral. they also taught us about confession. basically after you confess you become a virgin again. so while premarital sex was vile and immoral - you can always depend on confession to re-virginize yourself. if that doesn't turn a girl into a believer - i don't know what will.

when a few friends of mine visited london, i introduced them to this cooking show that featured this hot chef. his name is aaron craze and he is a jaime oliver protege. aaron is very good looking in a jesus christ sort of way - specially his eyes. this is why i called him jesus chef. i told my friend - hey if you land him, jesus chef will show you what heaven is all about. i totally scandalized him with my jesus chef jokes. but no matter - there is always confession.

i know why confession was invented. it was invented because all the priests then hundreds of centuries ago were male. all they wanted to hear was 'bless me father for i have been a very, very bad girl...these are my sins....'

honestly it has crossed my mind several times - what would happen if i tried to do a confession in a voice like those women who work on phone sex lines? i am sure i wouldn't be the first to have tried.

sometimes i do wonder about this whole is God a He or a She? my catholic programming makes me go on auto pilot with using He/Him but for all I know He/She could actually be gay and may actually prefer instead to be called Diva. THE Diva. Which of course He/She really is. I mean isn't the fact that photos of the universe are always tinged with a purple and pink haze against a black sky dotted with sparkling stars a clue?

we have to concede though whoever stood in as model for His/Her/THE Diva's picture as we know it now had an amazing head of hair. and perfect five o-clock shadow. good job to whoever the casting director was.

i know you are either laughing at this or shuddering at my irreverence. my total comfort with the whole thing is exactly the point. my God understands the humor with which i am dispensing all this with.

in fact, He's probably laughing thinking there she goes - exactly as i made her.

as to those who will contradict me, it doesn't really matter. if thinking i have the horrifying humor of someone whose been inbred makes you happy then go ahead.

all i know is no matter what, my God loves me. incidentally you mother effing haters, He/She/THE Diva loves you too.

unconditionally.

Post Recession HR Memo

i don't know who wrote this but it is BRILLIANT. so i decided to re-post it. whoever wrote it is a quasi GENIUS.

The BEST People in the World

i am writing this because i gave myself a deadline to get back to the land of the living. i think i may be growing up. first time in my life ever did i concede that i wasn't strong enough to muster on in the face of all that happened. so i deliberately dug a hole and stayed there for a few days. i knew i couldn't stay in the hole forever but it was a good hole while it lasted.

i had a phone call last night with my friend rob who lives way yonder in vancouver. we've been friends for over 12 years now. he called (or rather we skyped) just to talk. he was concerned about how i'd been feeling and old friends like him - they're like old shoes that just fit right and it all came gushing out of me. i didn't have to hold anything back - he just sat there and listened. i ranted and raved, i was alternately angry, sad, inconsolable, deranged, lashing out and he just took it all in stride.

and after everything i had had emptied out of me - he talked to me with a logic that only those who have the inside map to your head can do. after more than an hour, i found myself telling him about some of my kitchen adventures and we started laughing. then he said - 'hey this is the jill i KNOW'. and i realized, i hadn't been that jill in a long time.

and in that moment i knew i was going to be alright. and i was immensely grateful for the wonderful gift of a friend that rob is.

as i was about to sleep, i remembered all of the other wonderful friends i have in my life who helped move me through these difficult days. those who called, emailed, texted, facebooked, came over just to see if i was alright. and i knew without a shadow of a doubt that i belong to a rarified circle of humans who genuinely care.

this is my gratitude list because I am friends with some of THE BEST people in the WORLD....

gerry - for being the most kunsintidora. for helping me keep the faith and reminding me that more things in this life are wrought by prayer.

nico - for always understanding and being a steadfast cheerleader even if there's nothing much to cheer about.

paul - for coming over with the downloaded movies and tv series to watch for distracting entertainment together with the best friend chicken, chips and ice cream.

patrick - the best flatmate one could ever have.

arnold - for constantly asking how i am. for coming over to do nothing because he knows his being there to do nothing with me is more than enough comfort. for fixing my brows and saving me £34.

arnell, cris, jojo, charles, martin, joel, will, vannie, leng and pam - the divas who never fail to cheer me up with their one-liners.

jenny from the block, mac and sherry - friends made and kept over from leo-burnett. who keep in touch distance and location notwithstanding.

jan - for reconnecting with me on facebook. even if we haven't seen each other in 20 years, talking to you again on fb feels like we never parted ways since high school.

mark - for always asking how i am and for making that call when even i was beginning to be scared of how dark my thoughts were becoming.

jennie, agnes, bob, boom - for you all who went out of your way and made the time to see me during my limited stay in manila. MY POSSE FOREVER.

coy and mark - my bros whom i love forever

the three titas - bootsie, estrelle and roni. they all drive me crazy in different ways but i wouldn't have it any other way.

tio gilbert, mc, jenlee and tiffany - my family in the us. i heart and miss you all much.

cosette - my ate and consumate supporter.

leah, cris, cynthia, maes, che, eme, liza, ange, jojie and the whole damn list of stellans whom i grew up with as kids - so grateful to reconnect with you all.

shammy - for reminding me of all the wonderful memories of us all together and reminding me of the need to create more.

janine - my wonderful friend in yonder toronto with whom i had tons of adventures with in thailand. who would've thought i would make a friend for life back then?

gigi - who surprises me that while we didn't have that much time to spend together at mccann, how observant she was about who i was as a person and how big her heart is in appreciating sides of me i never even thought about.

mattie and cris - my tibetan temple circle who remind me there is much light to be found everywhere.

kumuda - for reminding me that the world is really a much better place because mustang sally's like us exist.

and to everyone else whom i may have missed out on but have been praying and sending me the kindest thoughts and wishes.

i guess this is how it feels like to win the oscar. except this is much, much better.

thank you all and i want you to know, I AM ALRIGHT now. Moving on.

I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself

eleven days after sasha has passed away, i am still feeling much like a big piece of s@£%t. i suppose its because i didn't have time to cry myself out. pretty much like getting the wind knocked out of you and the minute you draw your first breath you get shoved off onto the starting line of a bloody marathon, the gun fires and you're off. you kind of start running automatically without your brain telling you how. but you don't notice anyone you pass by and you don't really see anything. until that little auto switch pilot in your brain says MUST STOP and you want to drop into a heap right there in the middle of the marathon but you can't. you have to find the right timing and the right exit out of the marathon so people don't think you're some raving lunatic.

having to go to work this past week was sheer utter hell. i was fine until the last two days of work and then i started uravelling. i realized i had been using up all my energy to hold myself together the past few days until my holiday came up. my last day of work i just unravelled.

sasha passing away opened up a whole can of worms. i am drowning in this sea of guilt that i only saw her four times in the past three years. i am drowing in guilt that pretty much of her time with me, i was always going away somewhere, leaving her. i was always going away for whatever reason arrogantly knowing she would always be there waiting for me. even for the last time, i went away again thinking she was going to be fine. and before i knew it she was gone.

i suppose, she was my little anchor in this world. that no matter where i went, no matter how far away i flew and no matter how long away i stayed, i would always find her there waiting for me. and knowing her, she always was.

my brother loved her very, very much too, more than he loves his own dog, kozo i suspect. but no matter how much sasha loved my brother, she would always be back with me when i went home.

i am drowing in guilt for all those times my family would tell me how much sasha missed me when i went away - how she would walk into my room, sniff my pillows and my sheets and look up at them as if to ask 'where has she gone again?' i am drowning in guilt for all those times when i would be flying out to somewhere - the minute the trolley was out, she would then refuse to look at me or even come near me when i would try to say goodbye. eventually she would come over to me when it looked imminent that i would have to walk out the door. and she would come to me with her head hung low and when i walked out the door, she would stand up to look at me through the screen door looking at me with those eyes asking when i would be back.

in her last moments, my brother took the shirt i last wore before i left which was lying on the floor and used it to cradle her head. my mom said sasha kept trying to turn her head towards my shirt even if she no longer could move.

i feel like the world's biggest piece of shit - that my dog whom i professed to love with all that i had, died lying on my shirt while i was on the other side of the ocean.

for all of the adventures i always have been chasing after, for all the experiences i told myself i didn't want to miss, for all the attempts to find myself and my dreams - i lost out on being with the one who loved me for me.

sasha didn't care about my adventures, sasha didn't think better of me because of my experiences. sasha didn't care that i still don't know who i am and that i still don't know what to do with myself. all she wanted was me and i feel like a prized idiot that i went halfway round the world trying to look for something that i already had, one that i had left behind.

i still can't throw out the information file i kept on animal importation to the UK. i always used to thumb through it every now and then because i was always planning how to get her here.

i know, eventually, i will learn to live with this all. but in the meantime, i suppose it is alright if i just let myself be. i think its just appropriate if i say, right now, for the time being, i just don't know what to do with myself.

Feb 03, 2010

to my dearest sasha,

i can't remember how many times i tried to start writing this. everytime i started, i just fell to pieces. i can't remember now how many times. i guess this is what grief is all about.

i can't believe that you're gone. when i read coy's text that they had made the decision to put you to sleep, the first thing that came into mind was how i felt riding in the cab with you back home the day i bought you at the chatuchak market nine years ago. you were just a puppy - a large one though who perfectly fit the length of my lap. it amazed me that strangers who just met could feel so at home with one another. i remember thinking 'we've found each other.' the first night in the flat, after you sniffed every single corner and cranny (and pooped and peed in some) you were happy to snuggle down in bed with me when the lights were out. you pushed your cold wet nose into my neck and from thereon you did that every night. eventually i read somewhere that puppies did that with their mothers.

it is crazy that i am tortured by all the memories i have of you. i was initially lamenting that all i have of you is a photo on my phone of you and me sitting on the couch but in the light of your leaving, i find it is more than enough. my brain is reeling with all the adventures we had from thailand to manila.

i remember the first time you discovered the swimming pool at the condo. you were barely 3 months old and you saw your reflection in the swimming pool. you started barking at it furiously and lunged at your reflection only to plunge into the pool. in two seconds, you discovered the joys of the water and swimming and from thereon, you looked forward to visiting the pool. no one ever from the condo discovered that i let you swim in the pool til the day i brought you home to manila. you never lost your love of swimming - and i was very happy when coy would bring you when he was camping so you could swim in the lake.

i remember your quickly learning that the best seat in the car was the middle of the passenger seat right smack in front of the aircon vents. everyone wondered at my dog who was used to riding in elevators (she was a penthouse condo dog for a while) and was used to the driver opening the car door for her so she could sit in the best seat in the car.

everyone who saw you fell in love with you. the vets and their staff from bangkok to manila would rave about you. people who hadn't even seen you spoke about you affectionately. even mama's fruit vendor would set aside apples and oranges for you because she learned mama would buy fruit for you without telling anyone who it was for. when she eventually revealed she was buying apples because you liked them, mama's fruit vendor made it her weekly mission to set aside apples for you. it was a bit bizaare that the fruit vendor was giving mama apples for you instead of selling them to her customers. but that was typical of the magic of sasha.

little children who just met you, who were half your size were happy to lie down and roll about on the floor with you when they came to the house. they would always leave in floods of tears, they would have to be pried away from you when it was time for them to leave and they would demand their parents either take you with them or buy them their own sasha. little did they know there would and could only ever be one.

you were the kindest, most loving, most affectionate, smartest and gentlest golden retriever in the world - and you were mine. i knew that if something like you could love me with the kind of unconditional love you gave me, i was alright.

when i brought you to manila - i knew it was for your own good. i couldn't take care of you and spend as much time with you because i was busy playing big time advertising career woman who was living on planes. it killed me everytime i would leave - you had come to hate the luggage trolley. you turned into this psychotic wild rampaging angry puppy who bit my heels everytime the trolley came out because you knew i was going away. i would drown in guilt at having bought you, only to be subject to the doggie hotel for days at a time because i would be on business travel. the height of my guilt saw me hiring 2 nannies for you - a day nanny (the one you loved and who spoiled you rotten but couldn't stay 24-7) and a night nanny so you wouldn't have to be at the doggie hotel. both your nannies would tell me how you would jump into bed and push your nose into my pillow to sleep when i was away.

but everytime i came back, your world would be right again and so would mine. you were so happy to see me. we would resume living our condo life like my going away never happened until i would have to travel again and the whole trolley wheeling sound and ankle biting episode would be replayed. until your grown up life, you were traumatized by the sight and sound of any luggage trolley. it was a reminder of all those times i had to leave you. coming home to you - those were the times when i felt i was really at home.

little do people know how much i hated my time in thailand. i hated how i had become a slave to my job. i hated flying like a maniac and the endless meetings and teleconferences. i hated how i tried to fill the emptiness of my life with untold numbers of clothes, bags and shoes. you were the one shining light of that period of my life. all those nights i spent crying at the emptiness and materialism surrounding me, you were there. always happy to see me, always loving me and seeing that underneath the overworked monster lay this woman who was really nothing more than scared shitless of failure and god knows a million other things.

when i left for london, i was firmly of the mind that i was going to find a way to get you there with me eventually. the times i would spend in the park - i had these imaginary scenarios we would someday be walking together in hyde park and shopping in selfridges together because they allowed dogs in the shop.

i read every single ruling in the UK on the net, talked to every single animal importation official who cared to listen, wrote the RSPCA, talked to embassy officials and offered to pay them if they could pretend to be your owner and bring you into the country for me - ANYTHING and EVERYTHING so i could get you here and they all said no. eventually the one path that was open involved a two year process and a 6-22 month quarantine period. i knew that you would never survive a month in quarantine much less a 6-22 month wait. and still, i refused to accept i could never get you into the UK.

i'm not used to the word no, and you know that. i thought, i just needed a bit more time and i would eventually find a way.

i think my failure was that i always thought i had time. last monday when i left to return to london, i was unsettled. like there was a puzzle that was unsolved - how you had turned around extraordinarily from death's door when everyone including the vet with over 20 years experience thought you wouldn't make it. i was too happy to ignore the warning in my head - i kept chanting, no she's alright, stop being paranoid, she's better now. go back to london.

the morning i left, i deliberately kept the house dark and quiet because i didn't want you to see me go. i knew, how the luggage trolley made you feel and i didn't want to traumatize you again just when you were, as we all thought then, just healing.

so i thought - better to leave softly. just like the song 'softly, i will leave you softly, long before you miss me. or my heart would break, if you should wake and see me go'.

it turns out, you thought about it before i did.

the vet said, you were a really good girl. that when i came home, you put on a good show for me. that you fought hard because i was there. that you were determined to show me you were getting better because i was there. well you certainly fooled me. i left for london with images of you wagging your tail and your teddy bear face with the dark soulful eyes staring at me with happiness and love like always.

the minute i left, the show was over. your poor little body just gave up and before anyone in the family could even take a breath, you were worse than when i came home. i don't want to imagine in my head how mama described you - your suffering and the pain that took you. it breaks my heart that all this time, you were masking your suffering for me. for us. even during your last days, you were trying to shield us from your pain until it became too much for you to bear.

i don't think i could have survived seeing you in the state mama said you were when you were going. i'm a big coward sasha - i want to remember you happy and joyful. i remember when we had to put skipper to sleep - i was the only one left in the room with the vet and when they administered the shots, i remember how first, the pain left his eyes. then slowly the light left his eyes and eventually turning blank. and then i knew he was gone. at that moment i remembered you and i knew my sanity would never survive if i were to see you in that state. i want to remember your eyes shining with light and i am thankful for your gift of that being my last memory of you.

i don't care if everyone crucifies me with ridicule over how much i loved you and how much you meant to me. i don't care that people laugh behind my back and snicker at how ridiculously sentimental i am over you.

only those who have ever been gifted with that kind of unconditional love, and been given the opportunity to love and belong to someone unconditionally would understand. those situations in life are rare - they are far and few in between. many people spend their lives searching for and never finding it - we found it in each other.

thank you sasha for coming into my life. i loved you - with every fiber of my being, my heart and my soul. i am beside myself with sadness that i will never see you again nor hug you. that you won't be there to meet me with your wagging tail when i come home.

beyond the gift of love, you made me realize how much i could love. that i had the courage to belong to someone, that i was brave enough to pick someone to love without needing to hear that i was loved in return.

rest in peace now under the tree with skipper.

sasha - you were mine, and i was yours. forever.



Sasha Nov 2001- February 2010

Softly, I will leave you softly.
For my heart would break if you should wake and see me go.
So I leave you softly. Long before you miss me.
Long before your arms can beg me stay for one more hour, for one more day.
Softly, long before you kiss me.
After all the years, I can't bear the tears, to fall, so softly...as I leave you there.
As I leave you there. As I leave you there.

The Parable of the Eternally Fabulous Handbag

'the handbag of glory' is one of my favorite books. it was written by edward monkton, self-declared poet, artist, philosopher and interesting fellow. i suspect he left out 'a woman or wanna-be woman deep inside'. people who see his books on my shelf always tell me they think he wrote the books especially for me.

i've been thinking about bags recently. i told my friend, the truth about louis vuitton handbags is that you can have a hundred of them but none of them have the ability to hug you back.

it sounds like another of those vintage jill lines.

today however, in the emptiness of the selfridges' fragrance hall, i thought more about what i said.

who in the world ever buys louis vuitton handbags expecting them to hug their owner back? only a fool would expect that.

my second thought about that was, when i thought about the fact that my handbags couldn't hug me back, why didn't i think harder about why was it important that they hug me back?

the reality was that, i didn't want the bags, i wanted the hug. i was simply too far gone into my head and my pride to admit to it. and just because it was easier, i kept buying bags, and kept asking them why couldn't they hug me back.

sometimes we are so far into ourselves we are in severe denial of what we actually want. we try and replace those things our souls are longing for with other stuff and then wonder why the void inside us just won't be filled.

it takes immense honesty with yourself to admit to and try to understand the void inside you that you are trying to fill.

if it's just a handbag void, it will easily be filled up by a new handbag.

trying to fill in a void however, with handbags, or shoes, or chocolate, or foie gras,
without knowing what void it is that you are trying to fill, is futile.

and yes, a handbag may never be able to hug you back but you can certainly love it for the thing of beauty that it is. and that in itself, is a beautiful thing.

next chapter: the shoes of salvation

Gordon....

for a time i started to hate gordon ramsay for being overexposed and the swearing had become a tired act for me.

until i watched his new show - gordon's great escape.

where he went to india and literally explored, not just the michelin starred restaurants but the places where the greatest food always come from - the homes of everyday indian people.

he took cooking lessons from mums in kerala where he was shown how to cook fish with spices wrapped in a banana leaf.

went to an ashram and ate what he said was the best vegetarian meal he ever had in his life.

he visited and apprenticed with the most esteemed street vendor in the very slums where slumdog millionare was shot. he played cricket with the kids in the street and walked among the shanties.

he went to the most northeastern area of india, went hunting, cooked for and ate with a head hunting tribe.

he went cow wakeboarding with farmers in a flooded indian paddy.

and amongst all these adventures you could see the immense pleasure the whole experience gave him. often in the series you see his eyes light up at everything he was seeing.

and he had this amazing humility and appreciation for all that was being offered to him.

no one could ever fake that kind of excitement, appreciation and enjoyment.

just when you think you were tired of the man and hated his guts, he turns everything around again. humility traditionally is not associated with the man - until this show.

he really is brilliant - and a show to watch in himself.

ok gordon, i forgive you....will start watching you again...

The Unfazed Delusional

i am writing this because i feel like i am about to explode with my delusions. i clearly know i am deluded yet i am unfazed. in fact, i am amused at how delusional i am. maybe pleasantly, funnily psychotic is a better term?

i am totally obsessing about this man. i've gone to calling him twitter man. i met him only a grand total of 4 times. and i am completely convinced i have fallen madly, utterly, totally in love with him.

in fact - i am so crazy about him, i just want to shut myself in my room, listen to sad songs and cry like they said in glee.

i'm so obsessed with him i've become his twitter stalker.

and i haven't even said hi to him on twitter because, like a stupid, delusional teenager i am afraid he might think i have a huge crush on him.

and yeah i've googled him and read all the bit of limited literature about him. in the desperate attempt to find useless trivia like when is his birthday, i've clicked on useless links all the way to search page 38.

i need to know his birthday so i can check out his western and chinese horoscopes to see how compatible we are.

remember that high school game we used to play called 'flames'? you basically take both your names. cross out the letters that are present in yours and his. then count the remaining letters which you don't have in common. the number you come up with will correspond to one letter in the world 'flames'. f means friends, l means lovers, a means apart, m means marriage, e means engaged and s means singles.

yeah i've done that - using several configurations of my names and nicknames, reversing it using letters not common to both our names.

oh and i have subscribed to a love tarot astrology site which delivers me daily readings about my prospects with him.

two days ago, a tall, nordic, boardskating looking kind of guy was browsing at our counter. he asked me all about gucci perfumes and he bought one. then he left then came back. he had a sheepish smile on his face and shyly asked if he could get my number, for a drink maybe? and i said no i've got a boyfriend. i was i this imaginary haze where in my head i was the girlfriend of twitter man.

when he left and i was for a moment, snatched back into reality, i wanted to scream at myself 'MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!!!! RUN AROUND THE STORE!!! LOOK FOR THE SNOW BOARDER AND GIVE HIM YOUR NUMBER!!!!BEG HIM TO TAKE YOUR NUMBER IF YOU HAVE TO!!!'

and then, the delusional haze took over again. don't worry, twitter man is YOUR man jilly!!!! so i went home and stalked him again on twitter. i am considering creating a fake twitter account and pasting a bombshell photo on it and twittering him.

LOL!!!

i am shaking in fits of laughter as i write this.

ahhh...twitter man, i heart you....won't you please heart me too?.....hehehehe.......

This Year

i will remember that one of the best things about me is how funny i am. even my laugh is funny. i don't even have to crack jokes sometimes, all i need to do is unleash my maniacal laughter. we went to watch a really funny movie once and i was laughing so hard, the people around me didn't know whether they were laughing at the movie or me.

which means, i will go to more funny movies and shows. and confuse the audience and make them laugh double harder because they won't know if they're laughing at the show or me.

i will start getting rid of all those bags, clothes and shoes i haven't used in forever. one by one so i don't go into shock. god help me.

i will spend more time reading those books as fast as i buy them.

this year - marks the return of my inner voice - for fear of ridicule and not wanting to be vulnerable, i silenced it. never again.

i will stay the course - the course of my heart's longings. nothing less.

i will get back to exercising!

i will have a new career. the one i always wanted to have!!! the one i knew deep in my heart i was meant to be but never told anyone because i was too afraid. now i am ready for it.

i will go to paris, milan, tokyo, beijing, morocco, madrid and manila. and taste more, eat less.

i will fall in love. with abandon. with a very good man. a hunky, smart, funny and tall good man. who makes a very good living. who also happens to fall in love with me with abandon.

this year...i will.

Swine Flu Sentiments: Part Deux

the literature on my pack of tamiflu antiviral capsules read: swallow tamiflu with water (i guess to make sure you don't get any other ideas on what to swill it down with - like maybe a glass of rose?). tamiflu can be taken with or without food, although it is recommended to take tamiflu with food to reduce the chance of feeling or being sick (nausea or vomiting).

argh...food...it is the last thing on my mind right now strangely even if reading my new cookbook/travelogue journal venezia gives me a lot of comfort during the periods when my fever slightly abates.

i have been living on pineapple juice, water, grapes and bits n pieces that my flatmate cooks.

as i need to eat when i take my flu tablets, i had to find something even if i wasn't exactly feeling it. i just wanted something i could swallow quick - cooking is the last thing i want to do right now.

i opened our fridge and scanned the contents: a hunk of brie, gorgonzola, 2 tubs of philly cream cheese, orange juice, brown sugar splenda, orange marmalade, plum jam, some eggs, prosciutto, grapes, olives and 2 bottles of champagne. ok...not exactly sick food but it does tell me what the priorities are of the current house tenants.

i made myself some coffee which in my current state has been tasting like water where 2 month old unwashed socks were soaked in. fried an egg which made me nauseaus. ate a piece of toast with it and afterwards swallowed my tamiflu pill ration of the morning.

i haven't felt any sort of hunger in the past four days and still not inclined to be hungry but swallowing something other than the meds does lessen the impulse to barf.

i swear i have never encountered a more stubborn cold virus strain in my entire life.
usually when i get a cold, it clears up in two days, three. six days later, my nose is still clogged and so are my ears. i am still coughing incessantly.

yesterday, it snowed while i was awake. i was thinking how blasted cold it must be outside. i have to admit watching the snow falling while inside a centrally heated house was a pleasure. the snow falling was beautiful and peaceful. i watched it through our balcony doors overlooking the central court garden.

i started to think about all those homeless people i would pass when i would go home from work. they would be lying in doorways, curled up somewhere underneath construction scaffoldings in their sleeping bags that i am sure offered very little protection against the -3 degree weather. most of them reek of alcohol - but listen, if you were homeless in this weather, coffee is the last thing that would keep you warm. the alcohol will. i don't know....

all i could think of yesterday as i was watching the snow fall was how thankful i was that i wasn't homeless. that i was sitting on a large couch, bundled in a blanket, surrounded by pillows in a centrally heated house, with marvin gaye singing in the background 'what's going on?'....

Swine Flu Sentiments

i suppose, i will be making quite a few entries on my blog in the next few days. i am alternating between bouts of feeling ok, usually for a period of an hour or so after i take my medications, drifting off to sleep for an hour as i am feeling extremely worn out by the fever then waking up shivering when the fever comes back full blast. by that time i know i need to take another paracetamol.

i don't know if i am tired because of the move or i am tired because of the fever. or both.

i am listening to jules massenet's meditation from thais to calm me down. and when i am feeling ok i go through the pages of my beautiful new book which i lusted over for 6 months which my wonderful friend arnold gifted me with this christmas.

if i were a book - this is it: I would be Venezia - food and dreams by Tessa Kiros.

this was the cookbook i would have written but she beat me to it. i was insanely jealous she did it first. the pages are filled with beautiful photos of venice taken in the soft light. interspersed with the recipes are her thoughts on the trip she had taken, written down as a journal. i'm not sure if it can even be called a cookbook. more like a travel memoir.

the food is served on beautiful, homely, rustic platters. bread sticks shaped like bracelets lie on masks worn to a carnivale. the cover shows scallops baked in their shell lying on a silver platter, beside a vase of hot pink roses, an antique almost kitschy candlestick holder holding a lit stubby, melted one adorned by a necklace of pink beads.

tessa kiros writes in the foreword: There is not much I can tell you about Venice...you will have to come and see it for yourself...The city is like a beautiful mysterious woman who everyone wants to watch and stand as close to as possible; an ever changing powerful lady who flows with the cycle of nature and commands profound respect for her beauty and uniqueness. Like a mermaid sprung unruffled from the deepest waters, she moves and gives with the tides. She is, I find, most beautiful from a distance...These are the things I ate in Venice....Venice is like when you hear a piece of music that scoops down into your soul or notice a real tear getting ready to drop from the eye of an unlucky child. One of those rare moments when you grasp the magnificence of this world. Yes, Venice is one of those moments. You will have to come yourself and see...

she wrote two more of these life journals/cookbooks. one called "falling cloudberries" and the other 'apples for jam'

what i wouldn't give to have been the one to have written Venezia. the first moment i saw this book, i fell in love and i knew without a shadow of a doubt that if i were a book, i would be Venezia.

never mind....the chance to have done so is far overshadowed by the fact that one day i will wake up to find all of my dreams have come true. in fact....I am Venezia....

Shockin New Year

i am sitting in the living room of our new flat. actually, this is where i have camped out in the middle of the boxes, the luggage, the bags and bits n pieces thrown around the whole house.

i think my body has finally succumbed to the momentous series of events the past week. let me see...same time last week we were hosting a sunday merienda for friends and anticipating the house move. two days later, we lost a few thousand pounds to some feckin thief who smartly routed our estate agent's email to my inbox after altering the original message with his bank account number. when i first heard it, all the blood rushed out of my head and back and back out again and back....i think it was the psychological equivalent of being bludgeoned with a sledge hammer.

after a thirty minute mini-breakdown (which given the circumstances i was allowed), we quickly had to force ourselves back to sanity to call the police, the banks, the police, the estate agent, the police, my flatmate, the police and everyone else involved and everyone else who could get the money back. i was more interested in hunting down the thief and personally bludgeoning him/her to death with a sledge hammer and i don't mean that in a psychological way.

it is an interesting experience going to the police station. and re-counting the series of events over and over to almost every party. i remember the first conversation i had with the metropolitan police line:

ME: Hello? Is this the police? I urgently need to report an email hacking that has resulted in our bank account being defrauded (in a voice trying hard to be calm but obviously shell shocked)
POLICE: Right....so do you need an ambulance, fire or crime police?
ME: Huh? I need to get in touch with the internet crimes department
POLICE: Right so the choices are: ambulance, fire or crime police
ME: Its internet crime - does the crime police deal with that?
POLICE: Ok let me put you through the crime police now.

and cue elevator MUZAK.....

PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME THIS WAS MEANT TO HAPPEN AND THERE IS A REASON FOR THIS. FUCK YOU.

two days after the crime, i went back to work in that freezing shop. the heaters weren't turned on as usual and as our counter is right beside the main door, it was freezer-o-rama every single second that some customer walked in. two days of this and my nose was leaking, my whole body was aching, my head was throbbing and i started to run a fever. it was so bad i started sneezing in front of customers and i had my pockets stuffed with tissue and i was running to the loo every five minutes to blow my nose. this is not helpful when you are in a fragrance hall. it will however speed up your evolution into a penguin.

finally, next day, moving day. i had to drop my friend makiko at the tube on the picadilly line to heathrow in the morning. we cried and hugged each other when i saw her off at the platform. all this drama and her 12 days in london with us seemed a haze!!! and i hadn't seen her in a year.

back to the house in a jiffy. last minute packing, supervising the cleaning lady, coordinating with the moving man, checking that everything was clean and everything was moved out - with a 39 degree fever in -1 degree london weather.

by the time we got to the house, i pulled out my duvet, brushed my teeth, fell on the sofa with a thud, started a full fledged total body shiver eventually drifting off into a feverish sleep filled with the nightmarish dreams that you get when your temperature is soaring off the charts. tossed and turned on the couch the whole night alternately drenched in sweat then every muscle shivering next.

i don't even know what time i fell on the couch. when i woke up, it was 11am. my head was throbbing and it felt like twice its usual size (and i have a big head). every muscle was screaming. my throat had swollen to three times its size. my nose was so clogged and so were my ears. somewhere i heard grover speaking to my flatmate and i realized it was just me talking.

orange juice tastes like a rusty metal sheet. coffee with tons of sugar tastes like water. rice is an agony to chew.

BUT I AM IN OUR NEW FLAT FINALLY AND I DON'T GIVE A DAMN. i've gone through worse and i know i will survive this virus, the thief, the london winter, the unpacking. i'm too tough, too funny, too smart, too stubborn and overall just damned too fabulous to succumb to all this shit. besides, there is still mr twitter man waiting to be ensnared.

the medication is slowly working - i have to take it every four hours. i am writing this in a very pleasant cough syrup and flu medication induced state of relaxation. i love cough syrup. loved it as a kid and love it still as an adult. if only i had reason to take it everyday. cough syrup, flu meds - all are wonderful inventions. bloody wonderful...inventions...yeah baby.....

HAPPY NEW YEAR.