Today I am feeling so UGLY, which is unusual and it’s not because I generally feel beautiful but because I have come to peace with how I look. Not today though, I feel ugly and I am blaming myself for settling with this third-rate face.

I do not like my hair. I’ve been having battles with my hair as long as I can remember being able to keep a thought in my head and that would be when I was around 3…or even younger. Now, am seeing a lot of things that I do not like about my face. Ugh!

I know a sure way to bust your weekend plans - check your work mail. How’d I know? I just did and now am jittery and drowning in misery.

At least am ready to face Monday.

Have you tried digging up really old mails or emails from old loves and friends and how you go like: Ew, I really don’t want to do this but there’s this strong compulsion that forces you to pick the faded envelope, smell the mildewy scent of rotting paper, or click on that folder X that has been sitting there in your mailbox, eating a really sizeable amount of your disk and then wham! You’re transported into another universe – so remote yet so vivid, you could actually feel your heart go lub-dub, lub-dub.

I was looking for a password for Adobe Store so I can download a trial version of their Photoshop CS2 and it happened to me: this walking down the soggy, forbidden and horror-of-all horrors memory lane. I peeked at one email and then another and before I knew it I was already deep in the jungle of my old thoughts, passions and longings.

I cannot imagine that silly old girl as myself. Right now, I can only marvel at the amount of books I read and the topics and of course, the psych-major speak. Hahaha! Love at some point did not turn out very well for me. It could be because I was so engrossed in romanticizing things; of defining love in every nuance; of finding meaning in every coincidence. Lovers don’t meet somewhere along the way; they are in each other’s soul from the beginning. I love you without reason or pride. I love you without knowing when or how… I know no other way of loving but this. I loved too much to the point of murder: love intoxication.

I don’t think I would be able to feel the same consuming passion as I did 4 years ago. Although, sometimes, in the dead of the night, when I stare into our glow-in-the-dark ceiling I feel the overwhelming feeling of protectiveness towards the three unsuspecting individuals around me. I pat each head, one grizzly, another is soft and straight and flower-scented, and the other is curly and downy and citrusy in smell… I often cannot resist giving them a kiss or two, not too much or they will wake up. And then I have to untangle myself from the piles of limbs and torsos to revisit the dark alleys of my consciousness.

There is beauty in this Chasm.
Ms. Klaver you inspired me to be good.. to be inherently good.

I have been staring at someone’s email for the hundredth time but my brain refused to process the information it contained. Maybe it didn’t contain any but my logical self tells me that if it’s a mail from this certain person then it should say something, something IMPORTANT.

I have come to think that aliens got hold of my ability to comprehend written texts. Maybe I’ll start speaking in Swahili soon.

It is the quality of the day that makes it just so unfit to work. The temperature has started to climb and you could see people in tanks and flip-flops and those tourists that make me wonder why on earth have I not exploited the city’s beauty before this bastards beat me to it. Add to the whole melee of sensory stimulation those poignant memories of young adulthood. Ah sweet life! Why am I here letting my very life pass me by?

The ride to work was not so eventful. My husband was complaining about work in general – stupid this, stupid that, blah-blah-blah while the cabbie tried to avoid all hurtling vehicles. As usual I was off somewhere with my own thoughts. When I dropped Jude off, he told me: “Try to enjoy your day.” Which come to think of, is really what I should do – live this moment and try to find some sense out of all these madness.