On the way to find my diamond penWalking home the other day, I couldn't help but stand at Cockle Bay and slowly allow my senses to drift away. The sound of people sitting down to dine away or the scent of fumes emanating from the oversized grill or the taste of the salted chilly air. It was then that I realised prisoners and athletics have a lot in common and me probably having more in common with the former.
In both professions (yes, being a prisoner can be a profession for some), individuals are forced to endure rigorous amounts of training, sweat and tears. They are driven hard and further than they have ever been and behind them, casting an encompassing gaze will be the guard/trainer. They are there to give support and praise or put downs and discouragement. Their purpose is to ensure you do not lose sight of your goal and dreams and to make sure you walk out proud.
Unlike prisoners or athletes, I do not have a trainer. I have no one to offer encouragement, fetch some liquids, rub away my aches or crack a whip or scream at me when I lose sight of the final finish line.
But at least when I walk out of those gates, I will be able to relax and enjoy Sex and the City, the movie.
On they way to clean up my messWhen romance deserts you for five weeks for a fluttering sojourn in the mystic spice lands, you will take whatever grinds are left in romance's mortar. So with a pinch of my nose and a hand over my eyes, I fully opened my mouth and took a taste of bromances.
Much like a romance, there will be a lot of phone calls, text messages, emails and initially, some degree of miscommunication and misinterpretation, but as time progresses, you come to appreciate what the bro has to offer you. Be it a hilarious tale of woe and win or scandalous and salacious gossip or idle mutterings and musings, you just can't get enough.
And like a romance, it will involve late breakfasts, late brunches, late lunches, late afternoon teas, late dinners, late suppers, late night coffee runs, late night congee runs, late night noodles, late night deep fired sticks dipped in silky smooth chocolate, late night window browsing, late night magazine flipping, late night movies and my favourite, late night cocktails And when all that is done and done, a late night curl into bed and sleep.
But unlike a romance, a bromance will and does come to an end. There are just some things too good to hold forever onto.
And with the demise of bromance comes the inevitable post morning frantic clean up before romance returns.
On the way to close the blinds
There are some moments in life where you just don't want it to end. You don't realise it at first, but retrospect will reveal the clarity of the emotions you felt when it happened; all those little events that make life worth living.
Like the time I was strolling around Melbourne carrying a truly oversized white with red and green striped Gucci shopping bag. It was annoying to hoist such a heavy bag across town in sharp leather shoes and 40 degree heat and I am sure the people I knocked down with the bag were quite impressed too, but looking back, it is one of the moments you wish you can just re-live and re-do. This time, I would swing it side to side to create maximum exposure instead of pushing it aside into a corner to sip cocktails at Longrain.
Or the time when I tripped over myself in the Gucci store in Paris. Someone had obviously dusted the snow off their mink before I walked into the store as the GG embroidered carpet was clearly slick with glistening moisture. But nonetheless, I still managed to trip over myself in the store and just had to fall on top of the glass counter. Too embarrassed to regain self respect and dignity, I promptly purchased a bag to build some pride. Looking back, I shouldn't have worried at how people were looking at me; I could have afforded the whole store and more.
And like the day when I was in the bathroom and had the television on. Blondie's "Heart of Glass" started playing and I just had to rush out to see why and to my amazement, statuesque models were gyrating to Gucci's new fragrance. Naturally, I had to drop my towel and follow suit - and no, I didn't close the blinds as I no longer cared.
On the way to wash the perfume offThere is nothing better than having an older woman in your life, or a cougar who happen to be "Hot older ladies pouncing on their younger prey" according to Jenna
Maroney from 30 Rock.
An older woman will treat you how you should be treated.
She will buy you breakfast, lunch and dinner, or, if you are too busy, buy you season appropriate snacks: cake on your birthday, pudding before Christmas, candy canes on Christmas, ice cream after Christmas, Easter eggs, chocolate coated sunflower seeds, Korean biscuits from Korea, cupcakes on Fridays, hot cross buns split in half with a dab of butter and sometimes, if you are heading out at night, a splash of perfume; albeit Tommy Girl.
She will encourage you and talk you up in front of others. She will bend over backwards for you, but if you expect her to do so, she'll knock you down with her five-figure priced handbag and trample you with her 4 inch black patent
stilettos to put you back into place.But heaven help you if she dispises you, like the guy who sit besides me at work.
Must be hell working next to me.
And if you can't take it, resign out of spite - just like he did.
On the way backIt boggles me now, how I can derive so much satisfaction from doing the simple things of everyday life.
For a while, I felt lost and confused. Unsure of myself and my place in the world. Nay, I still am confounded and disorientated but I have learnt to accept it and with it, gained the ability to enjoy myself.
On a lone Saturday evening, I would have previously be-dazzled myself, dragged myself to some hip bar, order copious amounts of expertly mixed alcohol and dine on precious morsels of canapés.
Now, I am just has happy to chop and dice vegetables for an hour, shove my hand into a chicken and stuff it full of finely mixed flavouring then stand and watch the oven as the roast slowly progressed whilst sipping on a glass of water.
Did I also mention the organic vegetables, the free-range chicken, the Spanish pancetta and black truffle stuffing, the blood-orange Pellegrino or the cashmere scarf I used as oven mits?
How times have changed.
On the way forwardI think it is only right to acknowledge the obvious - that this blog no longer commands as much attention that it deserves. It has been neglected while I have been pampered. It is sad to say goodbye, so I won't - I will merely say that this is a pause until another time and another place when it will flourish with wit and humour and provide mind-numbing clarity of my life.
On the way to tie a tieEvery now and then, you get this feeling that makes you sick to your stomach. It is usually triggered by an externality and is almost always unavoidable. During these moments, you can only stay still and urge the feeling to dissipate with whatever will power you have left.
But sometimes, it doesn’t go away and the feeling lingers until pro-activeness forces it to seep, such as getting hit by a car while driving. No matter how hard you try to console yourself and say that it was an act of god, you are still left with a blemished brand new car whose disfigured body will stay with you forever until you cut the rot away. Or at least until it is fixed by the repairers and paid for by the insurers.
Other times, you can make the feeling turn on its head by believing in the good, such as when I bought an extremely expensive black tie, superbly wrapped and boxed and to only, five minutes later, stroll past a store with a signed that screamed “Two ties for $34.95.” Right then and there, you have to tell yourself that no quantity of cheap ties can compensated or even match the beauty of one exquisite black tie. And knowing that it is true, you can simply walk away blissfully.
