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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

something about me just pisses you off

It feels like luggage or anything related to luggage is what the day has been flavoured with. I woke up to meet my older sister at The Vietnam Restaurant for an early lunch. I've been in London for two weeks, this is my third time eating there (at least). (Ok, maybe not luggage related here).

I thought about a friend of mine who was either about to go under the knife, or was recovering from it. I didn't actually get around to asking him specifically when the surgery was to take place. Strangely enough, all I remember are the dates. Selfishly, I wonder when he'd be well enough to call. If he does, that is. I kind of made a mistake earlier this week and he was angry the last time we spoke. Rightly so, of course. Something about me just pisses you off, eventually.

We were looking for 'the perfect bag' for our stepdad and our mother. We found them, but not before two ladies yelled at us for standing there too long, inspecting the bags. "Is there a reason why we're stopped?" She asked. I said "Yup, we're shopping. Stopping, looking at what we want, deciding, etc...shopping". Not in a bitch way, either. Just matter of factly. She huffed past us into the bedding section. Good thing she didn't meet up with me in there, I am notorious for taking a long time to choose a blanket.

I ended up wheeling around a little carry-on piece of airline luggage (for the step dad) and following my sister in and out of stores while she looked for a gift for the baby's godfather. I eventually gave up and sat on a bench in front of a The Dead Sea booth, people watching. I watched one of the salesgirls sucker a guy into getting his nails buffed. I think he thought she was pretty. I watched his eyes watching her. Wished for my camera. The dainty way he held his hand, nails out for the sales lady. An oxy-moron in front of my eyes.

Ok, I like the telephone. I like that I can call people when I want to, and get calls that I like, etc. But sometimes, it's a hassle. The returning phone call thing I hate doing. I hate talking to people that speak slowly. I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the next word to come out. Sometimes, I want to jump off that cliff, they take so long. My landlord's answering machine is like that. His greeting is about 1 minute long. It almost kills me when I have to leave a message. But I had to, the dryer is broken. Still.

Came home, made myself a cup of coffee. Let the dogs out, made the bed, pet the cat, checked messages, etc. An hour ago, I was eating figs at my sister's, laughing at the way the baby dances (like he's got no knees or something). And now I'm at my home, near the end of my hallway...
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Sometimes, everything is so pretty I'm just speechless.

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