Hitch Pitch Season

I spent my Saturday morning in the midst of excited ladies dressing up in yards of embroidered cloth, tumbling flowergirl and her ring-bearer brother, clouds of hairspray and toolboxes of makeup. I felt rather inadequate for such a task. Even my solitary (but much appreciated, thanks Mooza!) set of photography gear showed it.

The wedding was held at a Catholic church and simple and precise. And then towards the end the presiding priest gave a sermon which included exhorting the congregation to "know and sing the song of each others' hearts".




Two dear friends got hitched two weeks ago but being in the midst of draping fabric off the ceiling, cutting flowers and dealing with unsafe amounts of cute paper butterflies meant missing all photo ops.

Pause for Pinter

The family threw a barbecue last night for Christmas, and amazingly we are still amicable. My mom and I reheated the chicken wings for lunch together and it's a definite sign that all is still well. And amazingly enough we managed to prepare everything ahead of time and by 5 o'clock the bacon was ready. We always throw in the bacon first. Naturally. Last year's was a frazzled rush of burnt food and smoke. I'm glad I did not skip the leisurely seafood lunch after Christmas service to rush home just to clean chicken wings.

The year is closing but I cannot see beyond it. Perhaps the idea of living the free bohemian life should not even be taken seriously. I need to still be able to afford my Starbucks now and then.

The godfather of pauses and brilliant playwriting passed on two days ago and I only realised it when people started paying tributes to him on their Facebook statuses. I'm cut it slipped under my radar, but I think he would not have it any other way. Here's a pause for you, Mr. Pinter.

I got many lovely little things and gifts (thank you!) and it includes a little jar of homemade dulce de leche for Christmas (with an almond cake which disappeared when I wasn't looking) and it makes a lovely caramel latte.

Blessed Christmas to you.

Day In

It's amazing how a quick shift of furniture can really perk things up. I'm sitting at my desk, which has now been moved to a corner where a bookshelf used to be. It feels nice. I feel like a brand new person.

And I had a mug of the smoothest and richest hot chocolate today (well, it wasn't exactly piping hot because the milk was in the fridge). Who knew such good things could come out of a little tin.

I turned a year older last week.

I Prefer To Be Idle, If That's Okay

I have an industrious mind, but that don't necessarily mean the same for my hands and feet. And right now at this hour of the night my thoughts are falling over each other in a heaving pile. My mind has been diligently coming up with things to do - plans, projects and the non-negotiable stuff, but my limbs prefer to slump over pillows while watching a gamut of trite movies. Last night I succumbed to Inspector Gadget and reruns of Chuck.

Tonight it was Nigella Express and LA Ink.

I will be going to bed reciting "I must (insert task details here)" in a loop until I slur and fall asleep, in an eager, motivated (but drowsy) mode. Hopefully I will remember it the next morning when I get up.

After various occasions of announcing the completion of my studies, several unlikeable phone calls came in today, telling me otherwise. Like, hello, university X, you are like, seriously getting on my nerves. I've had enough. Please leave me alone and give me my roll of paper already. So much is my distaste that I cannot even name you because you do not even deserve such staggering amounts of disdain.

Many have asked what is next on the cards. My reply of "I don't know" is as honest as honesty herself can be. I don't really know, and I think that it's alright to not know, at least for the time being. My mom asked me if I have already applied for jobs - a day after my final paper. Many others have given me doubting and disapproving looks at what could be forecasted as the kind of future an idle, boho-bag/cat lady would swing to.

I am okay where I am now. My parents think I'll end up being an odd-jobbing bum.

We'll see how it all turns out.