Current mood: ruminative

The darker mood continues.

I believe, mostly, that a large part of it is related to the approach of 9/11.

On one hand, it's understandable how such a traumatic event could impact on anyone. Then again, I don't personally know anyone affected by the events that day. I'm not even American. So how does that work?

I grew up in the UK during a time where terrorism was simply a part of life. From that time, I'll never forget the innocent people enjoying a drink when blown up by the IRA in the Guildford and Birmingham pub bombings. Similarly, the Hyde Park and Regents Park bombings, where the Royal Green Jackets band were entertaining a summer audience with music from Oliver! when a bomb was detonated underneath them.

Terrorism was something you became a little blase about after a while. Life, after all, had to go on. And then September 11th happened.

All I know is that 9/11 shook me to the very core. I went to sleep on the 11th September 2001 and when I awoke on the 12th (time difference), the world had changed forever. In the five years that have passed, terrorism has again returned to London, has reared its head in Madrid, in Bali, in Turkey and other places.

I often find myself thinking about September 11th, with no apparent trigger. Around the time of the anniversary, I definitely become aware of it being on my mind more frequently.

It also starts me thinking about my own losses. A sister I sadly barely knew, a father I lost not once but twice and dearly loved, a stepfather who was pivotal in shaping my life.

It makes me think about wanting to hold those I love closer to me, as if I had the power to prevent them from being taken from me suddenly. Unrealistic, I know. More importantly, it reminds me to treasure each moment I have with a loved one for tomorrow is only hoped for, never a given.

Sculpture 'Unnecessary Loss' by Floyd Wanner.

Magritte Big Fat Blog

Well, it's been over a week since my last blog.

I simply had nothing to blog about and I just don't know what to do with this blog. It's seeming a little silly to me and I'm thinking of discontinuing after I've met my commitment to the 2996 project.

I've been a little sick (thanks, McKay!), I should be flat out working (yeah, yeah... procrastination is going to be a key skill on my resume), there's a million things I should be doing but I just can't get myself moving.

Like the tree above, so beautifully painted by my favourite artist Rene Magritte, I feel immovable, anchored to the spot by deeply sunken roots.

Sigh. Whatever "it" is, I hope it soon passes.

My life in a suitcase

An afternoon spent cleaning up a closet revealed this treasure.

*note the heavy tone of sarcasm*

This, my friends, is The Cleaning Woman in the 80s.

Yeah, yeah. You knew I was no spring chicken. Why else would I post pictures of Adam Ant on this blog?

I thought I was cool. Hindsight makes me ask what the hell I was thinking?

Is that some homeless ferret perched atop my head? Way too fond of the bleach bottle obviously. Not too skilled with the washing machine either. Everything seems shrunken. And the pearls and patent pumps? Very Princess Diana.

But what's with the picnic basket? I remember this was my trusty 'handbag'.

Surely female sanitary goods weren't that huge 20 years ago?

Sex in Sox

In my role as rubber chicken sex therapist, I thought I'd better share the following important statistic with you:

Proportion of surveyed couples who reached orgasm during

intercourse when they kept their socks on: 80%; without socks: 50 %

Source: John S. Croucher, Professor of Statistics, Macquarie University

I knew this was one hot photo. Posted before but worthy of a repeat in the given context. McKay, maybe this is where your sexy photo misses out? Stockings, not bed socks?

Sex on a chick. Airbrushing courtesy of Sookey Jane.

What about Bob?

I know I must be feeling guilty about my lack of physical activity when I start dreaming about Bob Harper, physical trainer to various celebrities and The Biggest Loser contestants.

Granted, he is easy on the eye. From that point of view, the dream was quite pleasant. However, I take issue with his training strategies.

Stationary cycling on a London Underground train during rush hour is not my thing. Me peddling away amidst the crush in snappy lime lycra is probably not anyone else's thing either. Thankfully, in my dream, everyone appears to have either delayed breakfast or have an exceptionally strong stomach.

Note to self. There will be no more late night snacks.

GB-string

Things are in turmoil here.

And, no, it's not a response to seeing The Janitor in these tasty undies.

*averting my eyes*

The Janitor's work situation has become a little dodgy again. The pressure is on, the aim is to force him out, redundancy would be too costly. It appeared settled for a while but the scheming and manoeuvering is underway again. May they continue to make the silly blunders they've already made. Document! Document! Document! And then we'll pounce.

He's under enormous stress though and so tonight might be the night for a loving massage with the Vim (vicious cleaning product for those not in the know). Talk about exfoliation!

We're reevaluating our situation and if the job goes, looks like we might go too. Yes, McKay, if you suddenly find a group of strangers camping out in your backyard...say, no more.

But we're actually thinking of going back to the Old Dart, although I swear The Janitor misheard that D for a F.

*opening the window*

A lot to think about but I might have to wait for the air to clear.

Foot in mouth disease

If only I were this cute.

I haven't been blogging much this week and that's probably a good thing. Lately, it seems I only have to open my mouth and the foot is in there.

I've got into things I swore I would never get into. Somehow the psychological duct tape slipped and the mouth went into overdrive.

I've written things, revisited them later, only to ask myself what on earth was I thinking? I've emailed quickly written clumsy emails that read completely different than intended.

Must be something to do with the alignment of the planets (and I won't stoop to a Uranus joke here, although it's very tempting - I freely admit to anything for a cheap laugh).

Anyhow, if you're one of my "victims", I grovel accordingly. And, if you happen to be one of the people that I didn't upset or annoy this week, sincere apologies for missing you out!

McKay. I hope you got that patio makeover. I'm heading over for a few medicinal tequillas.

Poop psychology

I'm working flat out. I'm tense. I'm stressed.

And everybody knows it.

So, it was a thoughtful (or brave?) Janitor who dropped one of those little self-help, touchy feely books that booksellers always place by the cash register, to be bought by your insecurities.

Useful. And I thought it worth passing a few hints on.

Change

Embrace change but don't get into heavy petting with it.

Stress in the workplace

When you are experiencing stress in the workplace, there is nothing more soothing than a cup of herbal tea. Make the tea in a large mug, add a generous spoonful of organic honey, then pour the contents over the desktop pc of the person who's been getting up your nose.

You can do it

Think of your negative feelings as fruit or vegetables.

Your sadness is a tomato.

Your anxiety is a marrow.

Your guilt is a cucumber.

Crush the tomato. Squash the marrow.

Sit on the cucumber.

Satisfying

Satisfy your inner child by eating ten tubes of Smarties.

Appearances

You don't really need makeup.

Celebrate your authentic face by frightening people on the street.

Trust

Trust your feelings. Give them space to express themselves. Let them go out to the shops on their own. But tell them not to take sweets from strangers.

I'm feeling better already.

From The Little Book of Complete B******s by Alistair Beaton.