Could It Be Magic

Looked at flats.
One of them could be my new haven.
If all goes well...

A kindly friend picked me up to look at them together. All afternoon I had been super nervous.
It was like final exams all over again. Sweaty palms, palpitations, queasy feeling in stomach area, you name it.
But I made it. And as a result may have found a little flat for little moi.
Of course the nerves had totally obliterated my ability to think rationally and clearly. Common sense was conspicuously absent, too. Thus, all I managed was to squeak out questions in between gasps of delight and wonder. Not necessarily the right kind of questions, the ones any sane person would come up with. Like what about the deposit, what about the estate agent's fee? The list goes on, believe me.
Hey, cut me some slack!
I viewed a newly refurbished decent-sized flat with a big kitchen, a PROPER bathroom and CENTRAL heating! I have been living on a building site the past couple of months http://somethingstartsnow.blogspot.com/2011/12/war-zone-and-fa-la-la-la-la-la-freakin.html ? Not to mention: http://somethingstartsnow.blogspot.com/2012/02/winter-of-my-discontent.html !
I COULD NOT HELP MYSELF!
It was a bit like leaving the Cookie Monster unsupervised. In a shop. With cookie jars. Full of delicious, still warm chocolate chip cookies. And the chocolaty bits are sticky and soft and ... alright, you get the idea.

Anyway, all I am saying is:
Fingers crossed!
And even though the Void does not have fingers, forget about opposible thumbs, I would like to think that IT does IT's special magic-y thing to help me out.
All in the name of the greater benefit of the universe, of course.
Haven't you heard - happy me, happy u-niverse.
It's that simple.

No, really - I would love for this to go right. REALLY VERY MUCH (and, yes I know I am using a LOT of capitals today. It's just to show just how important this is to me, in case it had slipped anyone's notice).

And if you can be grateful in advance, then I am herewith.
VERY!
Cooper, watch out!

Out With The Old

Cleaning, yet again. After two weeks of builders trudging in and out of my flat and me spending my weekends cleaning up a little as best as I could, the building work seems done and all is left for me is . . . yup, cleaning.
Am on hands and knees to get paint and mortar off floor. Super fun!

I do not consider this spring cleaning.
A) Spring has not yet come and no, a day of mild weather DOES NOT count!
B) Really, what would be the point? I shall not turn this place upside down just so that I can move out in a few weeks (fingers crossed).

No! I have decided I shall live in a tip. I shall let things fall where they fall and not give a damn.
Personally I would really like to mess this place up. But time is short and I would need a bit of time to plan and then for that plan to be put into action.

I cannot just go and get a blow torch. That would certainly look too suspicious.
Plus, where would be the fun in that?! It would be over too quickly.

I was more thinking along the lines of leaving things to rot underneath the floorboards, getting vermin to shack up in this place, eventually taking over the whole house. HA!

Sorry, my mind just does that sometimes. It goes creepy places.

Of course, I am not going to do any of the above.
And I will NOT turn into a horder in the next couple of weeks.
Though, sometimes I do feel like that.
I mean, the things we keep. Jeeez.
The clothes we have not worn for years.
The books we will never read.
The music that we do not listen to and never will.
The papers/magazines/newspaper articles we do not throw out.
The bits and bops we have cluttering up surfaces.
And by we I really mean I.

Funnily enough though, I am not generally obsessed when it comes to keeping things. I like to clean out once in a while.
I can let go (apparently much better where objects are concerned) and throw away. I do not feel remorse and end up digging through the garbage trying to retrieve that one special piece I cannot ever part with. It just so happens that between the cleaning sessions I manage to get so much STUFF.

So I will use this opportunity - certainly a good idea with a move looming on the horizon - to sort and sift through the things that have accumulated.

Ah, but there is always a BUT: occasionally it happens that I do find myself entering into a bit of a frenzy. I almost cannot seem to stop. It has never got too bad, but I am worried. And I also ask myself - if the urge to do something - like cleaning out one's life and all that is connected - is so strong should one not do it as thoroughly as possible?

I know, suddenly the phrase throwing one's life away gets a whole new meaning, huh?

I suppose it would be interesting to find out what I can and cannot do without.
I am sure there are a great many things in my life that are a waste of space, a waste of energy.

Would you believe it, while the thought is so very much intrigueing, I am too scared to act accordingly.
Like the rest of us, I cling to certain "security blankets".
And though I am a grown woman, I am not woman enough to loosen my grip. To actually disengage from superficial comforts, from naff habits, from a life-style that is costing too much and is still not enriched.

Which brings us back to cleaning out. Come to think of it, really fasting is another way of cleaning out.
But does it work in the long run?
Not sure, apparently that depends on how thorough and not least disciplined you are.
And if it doesn't... well, there's always next year, right?


So for me it's one OR the other. Two things at a time - never a good idea.
And, surprise, I choose cleaning.
Seriously, you DO NOT want to get or see me fasting (tell you what though, be grateful you are spared and while you're at it put that on your Cooper-List).

My life will be clutter-less.
And I stubbornly believe that it will eventually rub off on me and make me want to live and eat healthier.


... yeah, and pigs fly.

No Such Thing As Too Much

No, I have not yet had my first ice cream this year. But I have seen a few people with cones in their hands, indulging in the cool sweetness, despite the weather.

In my humble opinion, ice cream is an all-year-round thing. To be enjoyed at all times, in all season. 

Of course, there are those who believe, ice cream is a summer affair, something to look forward to, something that comes round once a year like Christmas or Easter. Fools, I say. Ice cream never goes out of fashion or taste and why in hell would I want to wait until Summer?! The pleasure of ice cream cannot be spoiled. It is always at least as great as the last time, even if the last time was just an hour ago.

And yes, we can add that to my list of sins. I am a glutton for ice cream. There were times when I would have ice cream for breakfast on Sundays. I forget the name but it was vanilla with a layer of home-made raspberry jam on top. Courtesy of Eis Christina, of course.

Why am I remembering this? Because it stems from a time when I was very foolish. Not so much where my eating-habits were concerned, but my taste in men. 

And the memory of that particular brand of bad taste does not seem to go away. No matter how many times I try to cleanse my palate, there is always this slight bitterness at the back of my mouth. Did I say slight? Nonchalant, but inaccurate. That whole sorry chapter of my life just lets me wonder again and again where the hell rational thought and sanity were hiding out during that time. 

I said last month I would like to cut out that part of my memory and basically make the whole thing undone. 

And I still feel that way. I regret not being stronger and walking away sooner from a coward of a man, a silly and selfish human being unable to share, unable to be honest, unable to speak their mind or even speak UP, a weak and sorry figure that I should never ever have allowed into my life in the first place. 

But I also wonder what I may have learned from that experience. Apart from hating that person's guts and being a little worse for wear, apart from the usual anger.

I have no idea. I am lost for words. And that is saying much coming from a verbose person. 

I refuse to believe that Eis Christina is spoiled for me now. That eating ice cream is spoiled for me now, too. 

Well, if it comes down to that then so would be A LOT of things. And then I might just as well just give up and die. 

Ah, but I can't. 

There is still so much more venom to be spread.


P.S. If I was ever made into a comic book heroine I want to go by the name of Bitter Almond and if I had a choice, my gal pals'd be Miho and Maya.

Like Totally

Young folks of today are too much for me. Really.
I cannot decipher their cryptic messages when they try to interact socially. Actual face-to-face talk.
Conversations with phrases and words, mumblings, utterings. Vocal-chord action, dude. Not so sure they have ever heard of that. And yeah, it's redundant to blame it on the whole social media fad. Though, one must wonder - is it really still a fad, was it ever? Is it here to stay, was it always? I don't know, maybe in a few years, some crazy kid will come up with something that requires keeping shtum, saying nothing about oneself or others and just being, getting on with one's life without making a big fuckin' to-do about it.
So both on- and off-line I am not sure I get them.
Perhaps that just means I am getting old and too lazy to learn anything more. But I sometimes catch myself being so bloody grateful for not having to be 17 again, and in this day and age at that. God, all that awkwardness, the insecurities.
Living at home!

Then again, apart from not living at home and having a few things sorted out - awkward moments and insecurities are like friends you never wanted, they stick around.
But despite the occasional moan and whine about the good old days and youth and looks, despite the occasional awkward moment and the doubts, I am more often than not relieved that I seem to have gained some experience, some calm and some strength which allow me to get on with it and let me be resigned, and contentedly so, that I am not 17 anymore. Or 21 or whatever, dude. (Clearly, some being the operative word here.)

More astounding than the young folks in general, mind-boggling even, are the younger members of the opposite sex. Not that I was ever any good at reading a man's mind, his thoughts, should he have any. Chances are that I get even worse the younger they are. But what is it with their inability to shut the heck up?! I don't mind friendly banter, even witty flirting. But "too much information", too much talking - not so much. Seriously, if I want to chat, I go online - they of all people should understand that.
Perhaps it's just age and having been there already and having heard it all before and having been impressed once but not anymore by their little sad stories and their antics and their adventures and how they are so misunderstood.

Sometimes though - rarely, admittedly - they surprise you. No matter what age.
They seem thoughtful. And pensive. Focused. In a good way. Surprisingly so. Ah, but there it is, that word seem. Alright, I am rambling. Could well be that I have gained less experience than I thought. Could be that I am still as inept at getting male signals right as I ever was. Maybe I am simply not seasoned and wise.

Only problem is, experience or no, when you get it all wrong at 36 you feel just like the fool you were at 17. Personally, I very much try to avoid that. Without much success evidently.

But I am not going to order my tombstone any time soon or take up knitting or some other such nonsense.
So, more silly antics of a silly lady.
I had to stop for a second and think whether I could get away with writing "young" lady. I am not sure. But "middle-aged" seems utterly wrong, too and out-dated and frankly like a spinster from a Jane Austen novel. Well, in her day and age I would have been.

Oh dear lord...

The Winter Of My Discontent

Just got home...
to find my toilet completely unconnected from the main water pipe...

Dear Void, please DO give me the strength to stay calm.
Furthermore, PLEASE let my landlord find a qualified water/drain/pipe guy who can fix this. And fix it yesterday.
Also, I would like you, darling Void, to point me in the direction to understanding WHY THE FUCK ME AGAIN????

It's Friday.
I have a flat that is still missing wallpaper, paint, tiles (don't get me started!) and...oh yes, a flippin' loo that works.
I have had a week of builders walking in and out, the rooms I can live in look like a horder's den, boxes and stuff everywhere. I am basically living out of a suitcase. Every morning I carry my toiletries around like I'm on a bloody camping site.

I must say I have been pretty darn patient and graceful about all of what's been going on lately.
But this is really taking the biscuit... I have no rising-above left in me.
I HAVE NO TOILET!

Not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Did I mention that the flat-hunt is not going too well.

So, happy freakin' weekend to all!

P.S. Dear Mr. Cooper, what do you suggest I put on that gratitude list for today?

F(requently) A(ttempted) Q(uest)

I fail regularly at being the bigger, the better person, at indeed rising above.
I much rather go for mean-spirited and petty, resentful and unforgiving.

Thus reads today's thought bubble: When is a good time to let go of one's negativity?
(Oh, I know Deepak's answer to that. And I can already hear the Void's utter silence.)

I am asking nevertheless, how can I possibly let go and forgive/forget when so much is left unsaid?
This is indeed about unfinished business and I feel like I am stewing. I need to get this off my chest at some point.
Having said that, there is the argument to be made that there is no point, the conversation (as all the conversations in that particular chapter of my life) would be a one-way street, pointless to go into it, you cannot (re-)turn.

But perhaps I need to let go of those thoughts despite the silence at the other end and the incomprehension and the failure to be sorry and mean it in order to let go of all the bad I have accumulated inside of me. The rage. The grudge. The hate.

Talk about saving yourself, huh? Frankly, I don't have time to wait for divine retribution. Could be I missed it, could also be it never comes.
And clearly, I am refering to the other party here who should be paying a little for a change, not me, because, believe you me, I have had MY share, thank you very much!

But that is also the dilemma right there - while I want to be free of my pain, I want to inflict it on others. I want to spread it around, because I find it unbearable.
Alright, honestly - it's not so much others, it is one person in particular.
We all know how it goes.
You hurt me, I hurt you back. It's like the Mafia.

Note to myself: must watch "Godfather".

And NO!, I am not going to send him a horse's head.
Where in hell would I get a horse's head, for crying out loud?! Yellow Pages?
It is tempting, though. REALLY tempting.

Also I am not turning into Ms Close 'round Fatal Attraction.

I just have a lot of delayed rage, that is all.
And that does not make me of unsound mind.


I was just asking a simple question...

It's The Little Things

Cleaned toilet with old tooth brush of ex-lover.
Feel strangely happy.

Home Is...

Some progress on the home-front. Praise the Void.
Once more I have had strange men in my flat. Fear not. All professionals of the building craft.
Waterpipes have been changed, would you believe it.
The corridor is now "plus ceiling".
Walls still pretty much the same, i.e. they do not bear looking at or writing about.

Flat-hunt: not going too well.


Am determined to stay optimistic.

Need I Say More

All is well. Eis Christina is open again.

Thinking, And Thinking Hard...

So I have not written for a couple of days...
So what?
It's not like The Void cares.

Besides it seems as though Winter has finally understood his job description and is now officially getting on with it. Hurrah!
Though THAT means, it's almost too cold to think. And therefore, today's thought-bubble is rather empty I'm afraid.

My suggestion: do your own thinking!
Or if you're The Void: don't give a crap about somebody else's musings for a change.