Let's right dive into the task. In the previous post I mentioned I would take some of the impulses from a book with 642 inspiring clues for creative writing (642 tiny things to write about by San Francisco Writer's Grotto), and here I go.
The first task was: Write Yesterday's Fortune Cookie: It Got Everything Wrong. All your worries will be over as soon as sun rises again. Write Last Year's Fortune Cookie: It Got Everything Right. Dreams will be fulfilled. Friends will be found. New challenges arise, Which you will come round.
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Oh my goodness, life can be a bitch...
I don't know if anyone noticed, but my birthday was on Tuesday and I wanted to write a lengthy and tedious speech about how awesome I am and how earth could survive before I was born 24 years ago, etc. etc ...when, I was hit by the stomach bug and spent my birthday night over the toilet, vomiting my soul out of my body. Never have I felt so miserable on a birthday (or some time else) and I literally thought I would die any minute. I will spare you the gross details of the stomach flu (I guess many poor of you are quite familiar with them anyway) and rather talk about something else that bugs me...well, one of the things. A couple of entries ago, I complained about women putting on makeup in public, remember? (The two French girls were included). However, I must say I lately observed something far more terrible and inappropriate. Sometimes I wonder whether I am a bit strange or overly polite and appropriate, but I feel that common decency drops by the minute...when has it become accepted to file one's nails in public? I see hoards of women sitting in cafés, restaurants or pubs, shamelessly filing their nails as if there was nothing gross about it. Well, as said, it might be me, but I think this definitely belongs to the "do-it-in-your-own-flat-and-not-in-front-of-strange-people" section and I personally would rather see a girl put a ton of makeup on her in public than file her nails next to me. Yuk. Still, there is always someone who ups the ante - even regarding disgusting grossities. Only a couple of days ago, I was sitting on the train, minding my own business, when I heard a recurring clipping sound and, irritated, turned around to see what was going on. Diagonal of me there sat a woman who was, no kidding, clipping her nails in the train!!! I mean, come on, that is really icky. How disorganised must I be that I couldn't plan two minutes in my private bathroom in the morning to get that business done? I also don't put out scissors and start cutting my hair in the middle of the train or a restraurant - honestly, get yourselves some sense of respect. Alright, away from being a moralizer to something more important. My birthday. On Sunday, me, my sister and N will go to the Warner Bros Harry Potter Studios in Leavsden and I am already so excited about it that I momentarily forgot about my stomach bug (which, admittedly, deteriorated since I wrote the last paragraph, so there is no one to blame but me...). We will go there by train (so I am already nervous) and I will let you know how we got there and whether it was a good way to get there in detail next week, in case you plan to visit, too (and you should, it's mind-blowing). Today, I have my birthday tea to which I am looking forward, but I also want to share a treat with you which I hope you will like to read. Remember when I started this Alfie Deyes task book, promised to fulfill all of them and never did? Well, sorry Deyes, but you kind of sucked and so I forsook the task; however, I got a really nice birthday present from N which is called 642 Tiny Things To Write About, and I love it. I won't promise to do everything or to set a deadline (as I cannot be trusted with these things, evidently), but will share some of them among my personal experiences with my life here in Britain. Thank you all for reading, following and supporting! PS The Short Story people haven't written anything back yet (they wanted to get back to me on 12th March...told you, I will only believe it when I see it...) I don't know whether it is a common occurrence shared by a wide range of people, but I sometimes find myself looking in the mirror, wondering who the person looking back is. My face often looks more foreign to me than of any people I know - however distant I know them.
It is probably only me sensing this sudden disconnection of me, my personality, and me, my body and I am aware that I am getting awfully philosophical here, but today in the morning, I had struggles making out the face which was - as far as logic told me - mine. I often feel like my face doesn't reflect who I think I am and want to be. Alright, I guess there are many people who look at their face and wish to be someone else, but that is not what I mean. I am talking about a real feeling of disembodiment where you cannot link your character to your appearance anymore. Who is this? What does she want? Can this be me? However, when I start pondering what the face matching my character would look like, I am stuck, too. Would I be more gorgeous?...Probably, but that is only wishful thinking, I guess. Would my hair colour be a real ginger or blonde like my natural colour is and, more importantly, would I feel less disembodied if I let my hair grow out and assume a more natural look? You see, I have got a lot of time on my hands today...too much time, apparently. After a week of doing, doing, doing, my weekend started pretty slow. I read a horrifying book by Karin Slaughter which gave me nighhtmares (it's Pretty Girls if you're interested in never sleeping again) and, today, went to Kingston to buy literally nothing (well, I did, but nothing I wanted, only things I needed, which is never fun). Tonight I will go out with N to the Meltdown, but I am feeling so tired at the moment that I can hardly picture myself getting up and go, but then there is FOMO (see last post) rising within me again and, a more recent metaphor, the fear of only dipping and never swimming. There is this image I have of myself sitting next to the gigantic pool of life but only dipping into it with my toe. I know I don't take enough risks, care too much what others think and am too afraid of failing, but the idea that all these fears might withhold me from swimming in the pool of life is quite frightening, and I figured that shutting myself into a room and watching 90210 could not really be described as swimming, so I want to give it a shot. Breathe. So I want to embrace opportunities to go swimming, even if it means challenging my weaker self and leave my refuge of security. I mean what would be the worst thing that could happen? (Be abducted, slaughtered, raped by a masked man with a machete and then, ultimately, killed...well, thank you, Karin Slaughter). Wish me luck and I will keep you posted. Hello, there!
So, first of all, yes, I went to Covent Garden and it was cool. There was an artist (really?????) and N and I watched how this insane guy juggled with chainsaws (yes, you read right). We found this really cute inner yard called Neal's Yard. It is between Neal's Street, Monmouth Street and Shorts Gardens (all of that close to Shaftesbury Avenue). The houses there are painted in many colours and there is a café in the middle of it. It was so cute and peaceful. We found the whiteboard there which had magentic words stuck to it and made a very thoughtful sentence (at least that was what we thought). After Neal's Yard, we went to Camden Market, a really nice market where you can get all sorts of junk and cool stuff. For instance, there is the coolest shoe shop I have ever seen. The shoes are colourful, crazy and the heels are the best part. Some of them were flamingoes, or bricks or little Alices and March Hares, it was just so cool and I have already decided that I will treat myself to one these pairs for my birthday. After trying on about two hundred dresses (and buying one), we went to the CyberDog, a kind of disturbing, futuristic, alien-style shop which sells equally disturbing, futuristic and alien-style fashion and gadgets. There were shirts with screens on, illuminated Lego and clothes that shone in the dark. However, the most disturbing and coolest part was the sex department. If you've ever wondered what it looks like when two aliens have sex and want to see a picture, go there and you will be rewarded. Also the gadgets were quite, well, let's say interesting. There was leather and lace and some strange whip-like things (either they were whips, or gigantic dildos, I don't know). And there was a queue in front of the shop, if that doesn't say anything. It is well known that a shop must be worth visiting when a queue is in front of it (a lesson taught by Abercrombie and Fitch, though the employees in CyberDog weren't naked; however, they ran around in spacy swimwear, which should count as well...) London was great, but I was really excited to fly home for Easter the following week to be with by darling man and family. FOMO started right the moment I exited the plane. Or rather TFOOTSAYFAFAYAJWTSTWYBWYHSIMAWTTOTBWYWMYFMWYNWHATT (the feeling of obligation to see all your friends and family although you actually just want to spend time with your boyfriend whom you haven't seen in months and who took time off to be with you, which makes you feel mean when you're not with him all the time). A week is actually really short, and most of the plans I had had for the week weren't even realised (like finally going to the hairdresser) because I preferred lying on the sofa with my man, watching Big Bang Theory. When I came back, I felt really excited about doing stuff like going to London and meeting people; however, N had to work, so I went up to London on Thursday on my own and wasted three quarters of an hour to find a museum somewhere in the outskirts (and, no, I didn't find it). Frustrated, I drove to Oxford Street and ate a burger (thank you, museum of branding and advertising). However, I ended up enjoying myself and the city a lot because although I have been in London now since September, I still sometimes cannot realise that I am really here. The next day, the family invited me to LegoLand, which was just amazing. I don't know whether you know but everything there is out of Lego (which is presumably why it is called LegoLand...). The rides were really funny and not too scary for me (and people who know me well know that it doesn't take much to scare me on a funfair) and the Lego Cities were just too cute (consult the pics if you don't believe me). There was this area where famous buildings were displayed as Lego miniature models and it was just amazing to see what you can apparently do with Lego (however, I am still not really interested in it, once a PlayMobil girl, always a PlayMobil girl). So, finally to the caption of this report: Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you just couldn't decided what you wanted and even after you've made a decision, you have problems sticking with it and still weigh the ups and downs in your head? Well, this is pretty much my life. I am unable to make decisions. It's now April and I still have no real clue what I am going to do next year because there are so many possibilities and as soon as I think I have settled for one of them, I turn over a new leaf and the whole process starts again. But it also happens with little decisions. Yesterday, N and I wanted to spend the day together and then go up to a game-playing pub called Meltdown in London. However, I was really tired from LegoLand and also because we had met up the previous evening to go to a StoryTelling Meetup in Richmond (which was so not worth staying up late, but at least I can tick it off the list), I left my decision to the last minute. The whole day I terrorised myself and N with the inability to just decide whether I wanted to go up to London or not and in the end I was so tired of not making a decision that I made the decision to stay home. Still, I mulled over my decision again and again, when N had long headed off to London on her own, and was sure I had made the wrong one, even though thinking that didn't help at all, but I was suffering from a clear fear of FOMO (the fear of missing out). I was convinced I hadn't made enough friends yet (which is true), but had to work the following day, so I would be too tired (true, too); but it was a Saturday night and a special disco at the Meltdown, but I was tired from LegoLand and had spent so much money in the past days; but there would be nice people I had already met the last time and I could bond with them; but, on the other hand, I had a rough week ahead (it's the children's holidays, which is great for them and a nightmare for me...no, just kidding...) and this was my only chance to be on my own and recharge my batteries as I had to work on Sunday; but I could always watch TV, but this was a once monthly chance; but I really wanted to watch TV and recharge... And so on and so forth, I could go on forever. In the end, I had a wonderful evening talking to my host parents. So case settled. suck it FOMO. |
AuthorIn September 2015 I started a new chapter of my life by moving (temporarily or permanently, not yet decided) to England where I work and socialise now. Archives
December 2017
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