My Fave Pastime - Not!

For a woman with a penchant for pretty things, I am often told that I do my fair sex a major disservice. I have an intense dislike of one of my gender’s favourite pastimes: shopping. When I shop, I am looking to buy specific items. I do not window-shop. I target the stores that sell what I want and if something pleases my eye, I try on and buy. In other words, I shop like a man.

And when I occasionally partake in this onerous task, and I do need to be in the right mood, I do not wish to be subjected to the sales assistants’ inane banter in the pursuit of dollars, when a simple hello would suffice.

“And how are you today?”
I’ve had a day from hell dealing with a colleague’s ego, and a client's meeting ran for over two hours… Do you really want to know about my day?

“Looking for anything particular?”
Yes, wasting your time. Stop trying to make yourself busy in front of the boss.

“What’s the weather like outside?”
Glorious. Sunny. Warm. You’re missing out.

“This [item] suits you.”
Not when it’s creasing here and here, and gaping here.

“I always have to take the hem up too.”
Don’t really give a crap about you. I’m the one with the VISA card.

This weekend, after an unusually successful shopping spree, and feeling just a tad pleased with my purchases, I stopped at the lingerie section of a department store. The sales assistant noticed the number of bags I was carrying and decided I would be a good a target for mindless chatter.

“Shopping for something special?”
Yeah, something for a night of wild sex and debauchery.
“Not really,” I replied.
“You’ve done well today,” she said pointing to my purchases. “Any special occasion?”
None of your goddamn business.
“Spending money.”

I stepped aside to the adjoining display rack and watched her as she sought her next victim. The woman was carrying a number of shopping bags from various stores, so the same scenario replayed.

“Any special occasion?” she blabbered. “Finally got yourself out of the house, and the kids are away with their friends?”

I watched the look of horror on the woman’s face. She was barely of an age to have “kids away with friends” nor did she look the housebound type. She gave the sales assistant the evil eye and turned on her heel. I did the same, and pitied the next young woman with a little extra weight around the middle for she’d be shown the maternity section.

In the interests of shopper mental health and better credit card swiping, I suggest a simple solution. Shoppers should be given a free remote control, one that comes with multiple options, including a freeze and a mute button to silence the annoying and often invasive gibberish some sales staff dish out in the name of “looking busy” or making a sale. I, for one, would not leave home without it.

After all, I did say I shop like a man.

The Hours in A Day.

Sometimes I just don't know where time goes. At least, maybe I am forcing myself to lose all sense of time or maybe I just don't know where it goes.

It's never the big things that take up most of your time, but always the small things. Cooking, cleaning, feeding the pets, calculating the bills, watering the plants, buying groceries, the list goes on really. Next thing you know it, the sky's starting to darken and you wonder where the day went. With all that about, you'd think people stop wondering why I don't like to sleep.

It just wastes valuable time.

To keep myself company and give myself some break form the solitude, I've allowed myself some measure of hallucinations and at least giving myself someone to talk to, even if I know it's all in my head. It's not that I don't appreciate my relatives suddenly becoming concerned somewhat, but like always, there is a time and place when I need company. Calling me in the middle of me doing things does not at all make my life any easier. And since people are never around when I would like them to be, talking to the voices in my head is my only form of socialising thus far.

Sad, pathetic and most of all dangerous. At least I know it's all in my head, but I'm walking that fine line between sanity and something darker. I told you there was a price to dealing with all this by myself, I can only hope I don't cross that line in the near future.

Otherwise I'd really be in trouble. That's usually never a good thing.

A Vodka For Your Thoughts, Please?

1. Some thoughts are best not spoken, but ensuring they’re quietly understood can be an art form.

2. While some things clearly belong in the past, memories continue to live, becoming part of the present, and the future’s past.

3. Those who are drawn to popularity for popularity’s sake fail to see the essence of what’s beneath it.

4. Music stirs the cauldron of emotion while lyrics feed the soul.

5. When I peer through the contemplative glass and see my reflection, I invariably want it to sparkle as if I’m looking through a Martini glass.

Deja Whoa?

Ever had an odd feeling, not quite a déjà vu, as if something has happened but you know it didn’t, or it may have been a dream but you’re not certain, or an innocent conversation that may have triggered archived feelings, which leaves you feeling a little dazed the next day, wistful, trying to recapture something that you know never quite existed?

Then you realise that deep deep down, you still… want it.

The Road Ahead.

In recent years, among other words of wisdom, I've always been living by this single motto.

"May you never grow old, but always grow up"

It was an impromptu lesson that someone once taught me a while back, proving that there is no shame in redefining what it means to be an adult, just as long as you do the right things at the right time. It was a lesson I take to heart and still is one that I will never forget.

If anything, I have largely forgotten the days when we were all young and carefree. Days where I would definitely want to forget in spite of the impact that drove me to become the person I am now. While I've taken those experiences to heart and made someone out of myself, it would seem that some aspects of my childhood and youth never grew out of their time.

So they make it their point to give me a hard time.

The irony is, I've never paid any attention to it. If it wasn't for my increased restlessness for the past few weeks, I wouldn't have known that there are people that so "fondly" remember my days as a youth.

To why people want to reminisce those days, I don't know. I have to admit, nostalgia for me at least, is another way of saying that what you have right here and now is never as good as what you had before. To always look back at those moments, to try and relive them at the very least, shows a lot that's missing from the life you have now. It shouldn't be the case.

Life, shouldn't stop at a certain point in time. Sure there are bad moments as so many people including myself can testify to, but eventually, when you put it all together, what you have now should be monumentally better than the life you had then. It's isn't just about a simpler time or a more carefree life, it's about the things you put into creating and the rewards that you reaped on your own terms.

You can't truly appreciate the beauty of your own life, until you've come face to face with the ugliness of it.

I couldn't have asked for more. Hell, I don't think I ever imagined more. Yet here I am, fighting desperately to make things work for a future I'm uncertain will turn out the way I want it to. If you asked me whether I'm happy with my life right now, I can tell you that I'm not.

But I'm contented with the intricate nature of all that surrounds me and that is more than I can say for the people I know that still live in that past, unable to move on from a time when life probably made the most sense to them.

Regardless of how chaotic my emotions are, I like where I am. I like the here and now and I maybe I would like what lies ahead. But the past will always be where it should, in a distant memory that serves not as a yardstick to measure up to, but a point to see how far you've gone.

I know I've come a long long way. It's just sad to see that some of the people I know haven't moved an inch at all.