Sweetest Tiger

One of my cats died recently. Her name was Tiger but she was more like Tigger, the cheerful jumpy cat from Winnie the Pooh. I was sweeping the cat's area two nights ago and burst into tears as I remembered how she used to love attacking the broom and how she would play with the hem of my skirt every time I was scooping out the food for them. She was one of the most affectionate cats I've had and she was always excited to see me every morning. And I miss her terribly.

Goodbye, my sweetest, sweetest girl.

blog, interrupted

There's quite a number of blogs that I check out regularly but I've noticed that a couple of them, which used to be updated almost daily have not had anything new posted since august/sept last year. And it's not as if the entries have been withdrawn or anything. It's just there, unchanged. And I wonder how many other static blogs are out there, floating around forever in virtual space. What happened to the bloggers? And I can't help but to wonder about the poor people who perished in the recent tsunami, particularly those who were on holiday - did any of them have any blogs? Will their blogs now continue to exist forever without them. It's sad and comforting at the same time. Sad that they're gone, but comforting that some small piece of them remains.

silent new year

In the wake of the tsunami disaster, it seems trivial and pointless to write about anything else. The new year tiptoed in almost unnoticed amongst the subdued atmosphere. Tears well up and the heart breaks at the pictures in newspapers and the internet of crying parents holding the limp bodies of their children or those still searching through the rubble, the morgues, the still uncovered shallow mass graves looking for their loved ones who they just couldn't hold on to against the roaring strength of the current. Holding out hope against hope that the missing will be one of the miraculous few who somehow made it, against the odds.

Other headlines follow the news of the tsunami disaster. Some are the usual headlines of the war in the Middle East, politicians bickering, governments against rebels, civil strife. The catastrophic effects of the tsunami make these man-initiated calamities seem almost meaningless. What are we fighting for?

bites the dust

You know you're getting older when you start getting the divorce news.

It seems like only a few years ago when all the news you'd get about old friends related to new jobs, marriages and babies. Now, it's about adultery, early mid-life crisis, some deaths and inevitably, the end of seemingly happy marriages.

Reality bites.

I just want to go home and escape it all. I don't want to grow up. In a week, it will be another year. 5 years (or 4 years if you can still be bothered to pursue the argument that the millenium only started in 2001) have passed since the coming of the new century and I still want to be in denial. I miss being young. I miss being surrounded by friends and just enjoying life with what little money we had. I miss hanging out with my boyfriend/now husband where the everyday realities of grocery shopping, errands, bill-paying and in-laws didn't feature. I miss just being.

Christmas depresses me because it reminds me of a fantastic christmas week years and years ago when the streets were so empty and 3 little twits and a big teddy bear scampered about the town in the snow taking pictures in the middle of the street, under random christmas trees, drunk and giggling madly without a single drop of booze in either of us. A cold night filled with the warmth of good friends, which ended hillariously in a marriage proposal by a true drunk.

Monday the 13th

Having such a blah Monday. Woke up this morning and it was cold and I snuggled deeper under the duvet, thinking hmmmm...how lovely it is to sleep in on a Sunday morning. Then suddenly realised in that split second that it was bloody Monday! That just made the whole morning worse. Ran around the room, dripping water from the 5-second shower I barely had time for, slapped on mosturiser and grabbed an outfit from the wardrobe that I swore I would never wear again because it made me look like a hippo, but no time to think much less to grab another outfit. Just shoved my butt and fat arms into it, ran to the door, ran back inside to feed the cat and grab my keys and drove like a madwoman to work. Became part of the statistics of annoying women worldwide who put on their make-up in the car while attempting not to crash into anyone. Finally made it to the office after swearing at everyone in the traffic jam and vowing that if ever elected leader of the city/state/country/world, I would outlaw motorcycles.

Egotional

They always say that women are emotional but really, men are quite sensitive in their own way. A man's ego can be easily offended by the most trivial things, words spoken in a certain way, the attitude towards them in the company of others that supposedly affects other people's perception of them.

"It's not what you said but how you said it" is not an exclusive principle used by women only, it's just that they're honest enough to say it out loud as a reason.

It may just be how I feel today but sometimes a relationship with a man can be so tiring, especially in these times. You just can't feed them and fetch them their slippers and pipe anymore (ok, not that I do this, but anyway). Nowadays, it seems as if you also have to coddle them like the little boys that they are, pacify them when they're sulking and whining. Maybe this is why a lot of women never remarry after they become widows. The romantic part of me wants to believe that it's because they are still in love with their late husbands beyond the boundaries of death. But the cynical (and probably more realistic) part of me knows that it's because living with one man is sometimes enough to last you a lifetime. Probably that's why a lot of old women end up with cats. Cats are simpler, leave you alone when you need space, cuddle against you when you're lonely and take you for who you are even if you are a lazy whingeing selfish bitch. Now, that's unconditional love.

Makes the heart grow fonder

There is a married couple I know of who have chosen to live apart, not because they are in the midst of separation but because they want to maintain their separate lives while still being together. Couples living apart are not something new but usually it's something short term because of work commitments etc rather than a conscious decision made from the outset, which is what these 2, let's call them Mr and Mrs A, have done. They live and work in 2 different towns which are about 3 to 4 hours apart and meet each other during the weekends. In a way, it's kind of touching seeing her get all excited when there's a long weekend ahead. They maximise every second that they do spend together and their telephone conversations (okay, i might as well be honest here- she sits in the cubicle next to me and I can't help but overhear) are romantic and at times saucy. By comparison, generally, most weekends seem to just fly by for people who actually do live in the same house, maybe because we take our time together for granted. Saturdays are spent grocery shopping or running errands or doing chores. Sundays for TV and just pottering about the house, bitching about having to go to work tomorrow. Whereas Mr and Mrs A fully utilise their weekly rendezvous.

Which is the better relationship? I can see the good points about Mr and Mrs A's marriage, they spend less time on arguing and more time enjoying each other's company. There's also something thrilling about rushing to catch the train or bus on Friday to go and see the man/woman you love.

Personally, I don't think I can handle it, I like having my better half sleeping against me every night even if all we do after coming back from work is to eat dinner and watch tv. But I still remember the excitement I felt years ago when we were staying apart. I would rush to my flat after class to quickly pack and catch the train to see him. The feeling of intensely looking forward to the weekend, the desperate hunger for more time together as Sunday finished all too soon and reality forcing me to catch the train back. Such drama. Maybe it's when we're apart that we realise just how much that someone really means to us.