Talk about ramblings... Midget, if you read this, as promised...
Post-Midnight Ramblings (Wed, 18/07/07)
Its way past midnight. 0305 to be exact. Can’t sleep. Tried to watch the latest Grey’s Anatomy…, blooming portable DVD player wouldn’t work. Attempted to read the fourth story in Haruki Murakami’s collection of short stories… gave up after the third page. I must be turning dense. Complete waste of time. A bit embarrassing to admit, but hey, it’s a medical thing… explainable in scientific terms.., my brain cells are… (Horror of Horrors!) s.l.o.w.l.y depleting. I CANNOT UNDERSTAND HIS STORIES!! Urgghhh! Ggrrrr…! The last 3 stories were mentally challenging (to a brain-depleting, action-know-all, suave wannabe, seen this-done that, mum-of-2). Simple writing, good flow of story, easy enough to follow… then came the ending. Utterly hopeless. It just made no sense. Zilt, Zero, Nada. Please someone, be kind enough and lend a hand. Take the book. Read it. Then tell me. Explain the relevance, dot-to-dot. Just put me out of my misery.
Mind’s working overtime. Zig-zagging away with ferocious, unrelentive tenacity. Foresee a short-circuit coming up. Fight-back time then. What’s the point of letting all these thoughts driving you in circles, slowly but surely draining your energy, zapping the last of your strength, eating you up. Take action. Even if it means driving right into a stone wall. At least it all ends.
On BK
1. It would be funny, if it’s not scary at the same time. What are the chances that you meet someone who gets you, who’s on the same wavelength, whom you can relate to, who makes you laugh, cry, jump, applaud or freak out right on cue? Slim. What about meeting in cyberspace on the first attempt? None. That’ll be my no-brainer, positive answer at any given time. And it’s probably true, if it didn’t actually happen.
2. Married with 2 kids, same boarding school-different states, same legal background, same wicked sense of humour, same demented way on looking at things, same flirtatious over-the-top personalities. That alone could be weird enough, but get this. Same pre-marital lifestyles, also has an ex-fiancee and (also) had a post-marital almost-affair which ended early this year! Gosh! Right to the T. He could be my male version. We could be clones.
3. I’m finding it too bizarre. It’s like I’m terrified of asking, of wanting to know more, because at all times, I already know the answer. And I say, all times. Not more often than not, but Every Single Time. It all started on Skype (that good-for-nothing, silly, troublesome invention), and things spread like wildfire. Chats turned to text messages, and messages turned to meetings. Twice.
4. I can’t get too comfortable. Its Red Alert Danger from the word Go. But do I listen? Do I take heed? Do I exercise all my rational reasons and follow what my head, and not what my heart says? Maybe it’s best if I slip away. Create some distance. He mentioned something about things being on the mend with his better half. That rattled me up. Maybe I turned up at the wrong timing. Me, taking up precious time can’t be all that helpful to their curing process. In fact, it could be detrimental. Fatal.5. How now brown cow? Maybe I should just bask in the glory of the unknown. Take the forsaken path, explore the unexplored. Thing is, it’s clearly written in black and white. The forsaken path is treacherous and conniving. (Why then would it be called ‘forsaken’ – Duhh!). The unexplored terrain has been explored, and it always leads to the painful point of no return… the sad, heart-wrenching point. Facts are crystal clear. Again. How now brown cow? No guts to move on, no balls to move away? Why not use the same stone wall-hitting method? Decide. Take action. Or maybe not. Or maybe… let’s just let him decide...
Its way past midnight. 0305 to be exact. Can’t sleep. Tried to watch the latest Grey’s Anatomy…, blooming portable DVD player wouldn’t work. Attempted to read the fourth story in Haruki Murakami’s collection of short stories… gave up after the third page. I must be turning dense. Complete waste of time. A bit embarrassing to admit, but hey, it’s a medical thing… explainable in scientific terms.., my brain cells are… (Horror of Horrors!) s.l.o.w.l.y depleting. I CANNOT UNDERSTAND HIS STORIES!! Urgghhh! Ggrrrr…! The last 3 stories were mentally challenging (to a brain-depleting, action-know-all, suave wannabe, seen this-done that, mum-of-2). Simple writing, good flow of story, easy enough to follow… then came the ending. Utterly hopeless. It just made no sense. Zilt, Zero, Nada. Please someone, be kind enough and lend a hand. Take the book. Read it. Then tell me. Explain the relevance, dot-to-dot. Just put me out of my misery.
Mind’s working overtime. Zig-zagging away with ferocious, unrelentive tenacity. Foresee a short-circuit coming up. Fight-back time then. What’s the point of letting all these thoughts driving you in circles, slowly but surely draining your energy, zapping the last of your strength, eating you up. Take action. Even if it means driving right into a stone wall. At least it all ends.
On BK
1. It would be funny, if it’s not scary at the same time. What are the chances that you meet someone who gets you, who’s on the same wavelength, whom you can relate to, who makes you laugh, cry, jump, applaud or freak out right on cue? Slim. What about meeting in cyberspace on the first attempt? None. That’ll be my no-brainer, positive answer at any given time. And it’s probably true, if it didn’t actually happen.
2. Married with 2 kids, same boarding school-different states, same legal background, same wicked sense of humour, same demented way on looking at things, same flirtatious over-the-top personalities. That alone could be weird enough, but get this. Same pre-marital lifestyles, also has an ex-fiancee and (also) had a post-marital almost-affair which ended early this year! Gosh! Right to the T. He could be my male version. We could be clones.
3. I’m finding it too bizarre. It’s like I’m terrified of asking, of wanting to know more, because at all times, I already know the answer. And I say, all times. Not more often than not, but Every Single Time. It all started on Skype (that good-for-nothing, silly, troublesome invention), and things spread like wildfire. Chats turned to text messages, and messages turned to meetings. Twice.
4. I can’t get too comfortable. Its Red Alert Danger from the word Go. But do I listen? Do I take heed? Do I exercise all my rational reasons and follow what my head, and not what my heart says? Maybe it’s best if I slip away. Create some distance. He mentioned something about things being on the mend with his better half. That rattled me up. Maybe I turned up at the wrong timing. Me, taking up precious time can’t be all that helpful to their curing process. In fact, it could be detrimental. Fatal.5. How now brown cow? Maybe I should just bask in the glory of the unknown. Take the forsaken path, explore the unexplored. Thing is, it’s clearly written in black and white. The forsaken path is treacherous and conniving. (Why then would it be called ‘forsaken’ – Duhh!). The unexplored terrain has been explored, and it always leads to the painful point of no return… the sad, heart-wrenching point. Facts are crystal clear. Again. How now brown cow? No guts to move on, no balls to move away? Why not use the same stone wall-hitting method? Decide. Take action. Or maybe not. Or maybe… let’s just let him decide...
(It’s the break of dawn. Time to snap out of rambling-mode and perform rightful, functional, expected, robotic duties… Fundamentals, my dear. Fundamentals).
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