Sunday, August 26, 2007
Forgive me, I have nothing to say today. But there are pictures!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The first time I took these sunnies out with me, I dropped it and one of the lenses fell out. I panicked, pushed it back, and went about my business. Well, they were 12 bucks, what could I expect right?
Crappy quality, and they slide down my nose all the time; but I love them because looking through them, everything takes on soft yellow tinge. When I put them on, suddenly the world looks a little more romantic.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Stumbled upon a couple of pieces of paper which I'd scribbled on during my bored shopgirl days. I'd stand (okay fine, sit) at the counter drumming my fingers on the table, wondering what to do next to occupy myself. So I'd grab a piece of scrap paper and start writing. Here's what was on one of them:
Seated in front of me was an elderly man, who I placed to be in his 60's. But it could've just been the weathered, leathery appearance of his skin. I couldn't see his face for he had his head bowed the entire time. He sat very still throughout, almost a picture of tired dejection.
He could've been any other old man on the train; but what made him different was his arms.
They were a menagerie of scars, angry grooves and bumps in his skin that seemed to scream for attention; for a chance to be heard. Here sat this subdued man, arms laid out in front of him, laden with the permanent reminders of a past long gone.
Chapter One: Bar fight. Broken glass.
Chapter Eight: Toppled kettle. Scalding water.
I quietly made up a reality with him being an angsty adolescent, getting himself involved in fights under the shadows of archetypal dark alleys. The long, deep depression on his right forearm bearing testament to his impetuousness. The raised welts of scar tissue on his left forearm - blistered by boiling water whilst trying to cook dinner for his little sister.
The stories they could tell.
On the train to work this morning, I saw a lady reading a book called "The Art of Happiness at Work". I was amused but mostly cynical as I mentally sneered at the idea that a book could solve job dissatisfaction.
Unless of course it comes packaged with a free weapon to cull your bosses with.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Just for the fun of it, and because I haven't been posting any pictures, here's a melange of photos from the past month or so.
They're just about the only consistent thing I can look forward to each week. Except I'm probably going to have to work this weekend since we've got an event taking place. Oh, the dread.
I'm thinking about throwing in the towel sometime soon. At the risk of sounding foolish and immature, I feel as though I'm too young to be stuck in a rut. Why should I tie myself down with a job that I literally have to drag myself out of bed to go to every morning? I suppose I'm still in the midst of figuring out what I want to do, but I'm quite sure that this is just not it.
On to other stuff.
So I made it to The Cure on Wednesday, albeit half an hour late! Even then, there were still lots of people still streaming in. Not that the half an hour would've made much of a difference in relation to the entire length of the concert. We thought it was about to end when they started rolling out all the crowd-pleasers like Inbetween Days, Just Like Heaven, and Friday I'm in Love. Boy, were we wrong. By 10.30pm, two and half hours after it had started, we were withering in our seats and decided to leave for some grub. Boredom: 1, Robert Smith: 0.
In the end, we got word that the gig only ended at about 11.20pm. What a marathon! I never thought I'd ever leave a concert early, but much as I like some of their music, I'm just not that big a fan of The Cure. Plus we were up in the seats, and the vibe just wasn't there. Pity.