New Life

There’s a new life being created, and it’s hard work.

It’s magical.

It’s delightful.

And it’s exhausting.

Until you hear the heartbeat for the first time and your whole world blurs into that one single moment and that one rhythm.

It’s beyond description.

heartbeat

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Hemingway & I

Hemingway & I.

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The Come-Back

Well this blog seemed to die a death…I’m going to breathe life back into it 2 years later. Do you believe in miracles? 

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New Obsession?

Ok so I’ve only had this for a day, but I find myself thinking in terms of blog posts already. This can’t be good.

Last thing at night, after being awake for almost 20 hours (thanks to my 6am incident the day before) I found that my last thoughts were of this blog.

Now with all this thinking you might be expecting life-changing, Pulitzer prize quality of writing- allow me to disappoint you now, before you read the whole thing and start harbouring real resentment.

I wonder if obsessions are ever productive? They say that the most successful people have obsessive-like tendencies resulting in them out-shining their peers. I’ll have to do some more research there.

The fact is, any solid ideas I had before drifting off into my deep, deep slumber have seamlessly vanished back into the darkest crevices of my mind. Yet I’m still on this site, with every intention of posting this blog.

Good thing I labelled the category “Ramblings”, at least you know what you’re getting into.

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6am Start

What is it with waking up at 6am that has the human body wired??

I woke up for no apparent reason this morning, at 6am.

Eye-lids flew open and seemed to clamp, and I knew I was in for one of those days. So I got up after 45minutes of denial and self-loathing and parked my butt on the couch, where it’s been for the past- ohmygod- 6 hours!!!! Yet it’s only 1pm…

Days are so much longer when you wake up so early, it should be illegal.

Meanwhile I’ve created a blog and done most of the things I’ve been putting off for weeks…maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s just given me an excuse to ramble on…and on, much to your fortune 🙂

Anyone else feel that early starts catapults your mind into over-drive, and not necessarily in a very coherent way?

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Musings from a humid desert

It’s hot, it’s sticky, it’s breath-taking- and not in a good way. The humidity is chokingly high but it’s ok, I’m sitting in air-conditioned bliss within the concrete walls that trap in the cold air and hey, I’m even feeling a little chilly.

I’m in Dubai.

So this is a space to share (air?) my observations about the goings-on of this place, from a 20-something professional’s point of view who currently happens to be “in-between” jobs.

I’ve always loved writing but never really had the time, or made the time, and now all I have is time. Funny thing to complain about, I guess I’m not really complaining though. I love having all this time on my hands, maybe I’ll end up with something wonderfully creative, maybe not….either way I’m giving it a shot.

My latest urge to write was inspired by a letter that I wrote to my sister. Yes, I said letter- as in a sheet of paper with my very own hand-writing on it, pen to paper. What an old-fashioned concept. Yes I agree, even for me. It seemed rather redundant to my better half who looked on confused as I sat down at the rarely used dining table and set out the brand new stationary set that I had bought 5 months ago (it’s brand new because I’d never used it before, still had it’s wrapping and all) and started writing!

The main source of his confusion was the fact that I was writing her a letter that I would then mail which in turn would not get to her before the end of the week, when he knew with no doubt that we email each other every day. Literally.

But there’s something about writing letters that feels more real-time than any instant message or email, the feel of the paper in your hands, knowing that the last person that held (or scribbled/drooled on/coffee-stained) that piece of paper was your loved one, and knowing that for the duration of that letter their thoughts were spilling out to only you. No pop-ups, no annoying MSN friends that you never see nor have any intention of ever seeing, no Facebook updates to distract you. Just you and your thoughts and the person you’re writing to, filling up your consciousness.

I wanted to be a letter-writer. One of those people. It fills me with a sense of superior pride.

It also defies logic as there was really nothing new to share with the sister I email everyday as she knew exactly what was going on in my life, including what I had for dinner.

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