Tillykke med foadselsdagen
Viking celebrates his birthday in this part of the world in a few more minutes. He is more at peace with his crisis over and getting back enough sleep after days of early morning duty. I thought he was hiding a daughter. Turned out it was his niece who didn't know how to speak English and affirmed my suspicions with a Ja and a Nej, only to find out that she had no idea what I was talking about.
At about the same time, writer friend is probably protesting about the Muhammed cartoons. I cross my fingers and hope he still has a sound mind and a still heart. I hope he has not run off and burned embassies. I hope he realizes that he was not being attacked. I hope he has not forgotten to dance to the Leanne Womack song. I hope he has continued taking pictures of freedom fighters and be thankful for what he already has.
Crow just dropped me off after coffee at the 24-hour food chain. We had long silent moments where we just stare into space, lost in our own thoughts. It's been happening quite often now that it has become comfortable. The silence. The mystery. The unknown. I don't know which is worse, the unfeeling or the uncaring. But it's too late now. I really do not care. Everything is as it is. What you see is what you get. And I am being me. For now, this is all I need.
On the far end of my neighborhood, ex-boyfriend is dreaming about his wedding. Sent me a message one night to say that he misses his ex-best friend. I told him, he can call anytime. And I reminded him he still owes me the dinner he promised. He said it might not be a good idea since people might see us and get the wrong impression. I said it was ok and wondered if I'll be invited to his wedding. If I was, I'm not sure if I'd go. Too much history. Not sure how the new woman in his life would take it. (Enter song: What the world needs now ... is love ... sweet love.) I decided I will go only and only if the bride invites me. I have no angst about him getting married and I'm pretty sure, no regrets either. But if he can't have friendly dinner with me, then there might be friction in the issue of ex-es. Que sera sera. What will be, will be.
As for me, I'm tired. Been working on a lot of things. Spent my whole weekend editing a photograph for a client. Was not pleased with my work but they paid me anyway. I'm not sure I deserve it. But I knew I did put a lot of effort on it. Was also spending time as one of the technical staff in a all girl's school alumni homecoming. Realized how lucky I was to have been enrolled on a co-ed school. But I also realized the difference between a girl and an assumptionista. No, I wouldn't remember to comb my hair when I'm running around working. I wouldn't mind a mismatched outfit once in awhile. But damn, them girls really know how to look good even at age 82. Will be spending this Saturday teaching fathers to dance. Sigh. One foot in front of the other. Breathe in and out. Just a day at a time.
Listening to the Serendipity Soundtrack. Yes, I'm still dancing.
At about the same time, writer friend is probably protesting about the Muhammed cartoons. I cross my fingers and hope he still has a sound mind and a still heart. I hope he has not run off and burned embassies. I hope he realizes that he was not being attacked. I hope he has not forgotten to dance to the Leanne Womack song. I hope he has continued taking pictures of freedom fighters and be thankful for what he already has.
Crow just dropped me off after coffee at the 24-hour food chain. We had long silent moments where we just stare into space, lost in our own thoughts. It's been happening quite often now that it has become comfortable. The silence. The mystery. The unknown. I don't know which is worse, the unfeeling or the uncaring. But it's too late now. I really do not care. Everything is as it is. What you see is what you get. And I am being me. For now, this is all I need.
On the far end of my neighborhood, ex-boyfriend is dreaming about his wedding. Sent me a message one night to say that he misses his ex-best friend. I told him, he can call anytime. And I reminded him he still owes me the dinner he promised. He said it might not be a good idea since people might see us and get the wrong impression. I said it was ok and wondered if I'll be invited to his wedding. If I was, I'm not sure if I'd go. Too much history. Not sure how the new woman in his life would take it. (Enter song: What the world needs now ... is love ... sweet love.) I decided I will go only and only if the bride invites me. I have no angst about him getting married and I'm pretty sure, no regrets either. But if he can't have friendly dinner with me, then there might be friction in the issue of ex-es. Que sera sera. What will be, will be.
As for me, I'm tired. Been working on a lot of things. Spent my whole weekend editing a photograph for a client. Was not pleased with my work but they paid me anyway. I'm not sure I deserve it. But I knew I did put a lot of effort on it. Was also spending time as one of the technical staff in a all girl's school alumni homecoming. Realized how lucky I was to have been enrolled on a co-ed school. But I also realized the difference between a girl and an assumptionista. No, I wouldn't remember to comb my hair when I'm running around working. I wouldn't mind a mismatched outfit once in awhile. But damn, them girls really know how to look good even at age 82. Will be spending this Saturday teaching fathers to dance. Sigh. One foot in front of the other. Breathe in and out. Just a day at a time.
Listening to the Serendipity Soundtrack. Yes, I'm still dancing.
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