Another day, another year.

So apart from the very embarrassing fog-related incident, new year was as boring as every other year. We went to the relative's house (where we go every weekend), put out the lights at 23:57 (they're a little iffy about that), rolled our eyes while the others giggled (yes, GIGGLED) in anticipation, and when the clock struck 12 (at their house, on my watch it was 12 past 12 by then), we lit candles, repeated lines of a badly written prayer, and then everybody hugged and kissed everybody else. A tad annoying, but then again, it's some kind of a ritual here.

And now to the embarrassing fog-related incident. See, there's this fog here. It's incredibly thick, so if you go out there you can't even see your own hands. So I stepped out of the building (of apartment of aforementioned relatives) and...um...forgot that there was a step, so I missed it, fell, and did this very cool flying stunt-type thing into the windshield of a car parked outside. Which promptly set off its alarm...with flashing lights and everything - the works. Let me just put it this way...police reaction time is scary. I barely had time to scramble off the (wet) hood and flash a sheepish smile at assorted family members peering at me through the flashes of orange and red.

This will not be spoken of again, mind.

And now I will go to bed. It's been a long day/night/day.

Oh, and Happy New Year, etc.

Red lights and cars

She stood on the other side of the white markings on the smooth black surface, shoulders held back, chin up, looking the world in the eye.

They should have been lively and filled with laughter, those beautiful green eyes.

And yet, they stared deep into unseen space, struggling against the burdens of her heart. She stood there for an eternity, passing cars caught a glimpse of pain and suffering.

A gust of cold wind picked up the loose end of her scarf and pulled it off her head, ever so gently.

A long strand of deep brown hair fell reached her shoulder the same time a tear did.

And she bowed her head, looking at the ground, afraid that someone would see what lay behind the mask.

A flip of the hand and the scarf was back on, the mask back in place, the emptiness in those eyes.

Lights changed and she walked, tall and proud, looking the world in the eye, beautiful.

Growing up, or Another Holiday Rant.

It's the hardest thing to do. Growing up, learning to let go. Learning to stop being insecure, learning to stop being immature. Learning to let go of the person you love, maybe because he/she doesn't need you anymore, maybe because that's the only way to move on. It's hard and it hurts, but we have to all face it at some point.

Alright. So much for the dramatic entrance. I just realized that the best part about being home is being able to take hot water baths. With honest-to-goodness hot water. And a bath tub. With bubble bath and essential oils. The second best part about being home is not having to wash and clean the bathroom before using it. I nearly cried today out of the sheer joy. The folks are now keeping an eye on me and are popping in every few minutes to "make sure" I'm "alright". So much for that.

So yes, the crying. Apparently I've become even more sentimental of late. Which sucks. Homegurl, one of my bester friends, thinks it's because I'm ("finally") getting in touch with my feminine side. I beg to differ. I've always been in touch with my feminine side. People somehow think I'm cold and emotionless. If you do think so, talk to Ergoplum, who probably thinks I'm a little leech-like. I believe he used to word "nag". Which I am highly offended by. Not that it affects anything. I still nag, with increased joy.

Right. Moving on...

I mentioned in a previous long-time-ago post that one of the simpler joys in life can be obtained by sticking one's hands out of the window, into the sunlight. While the benefits of this are deliciously "mmmm"-inducing, I must put down here a word of caution. Watch out for pigeons on the floor above you. They like to poop.

While I have been staying off my feet, I have had an alarmingly long time to think about things. Life, etc. I came to a large number of conclusions, one of them being that life really is meaningless, just another experience before death and whatever lies beyond death. I don't remember most of those (other) conclusions, but a few can be shared. You know, for the greater good, etc.

1. I use "etc." way to often.
2. Life is a bitch and always will be.
3. It sucks to feel unwanted.
4. Love sucks.
5. Sunshine is yummy on a cold winter's morning.
6. Sea water is FREEZING even at 12 noon in winter.
7. Shopping is a bitch.
8. Gift wrapping is not fun. At all.
9. Hot chocolate is a girl's best friend, best served with tears and marshmallows.
10. Love sucks.

In happier news, my ankle is much better. (Thank you for asking, Ergoplum. :) )

For someone at home on vacations I sure have a lot of good news to share.

Anyhow. I should go. It's my duty to be the resident skeptic and sarcastic non-believer who slams doors in people's faces when they come to carol at the doorstep. Just another service I offer.

On a closing note, I highly recommend Cadbury's Drinking Chocolate for people like me who're sick of a lot of things in life. Put three heaped teaspoons into a cup of hot milk, add marshmallow bits, and curl up with it while sitting at your window sill, hurting over missing/loving him/her, not wanting to say it because you know what the reaction will be and you'd rather just create a fantasy. (For best effects, do this when it's raining outside and your neighbour is cuddling with their loved one. If you're not masochistic, just drink up, curl up under the covers, and cry yourself to sleep. That works pretty well, too.)

Ah, Christmas. Joyous holiday season.