cooked my own lunch today!
reheated the food in the fridge, more like. hah. but considering that i don't own a microwave at home - since mom is convinced it'll radiate our brains to crisp if we so much as go within 2m of its proximity - it's a feat!
woke up early this morning considering the fact that i only fell asleep at 4plus last night.
for some reason i kept dreaming i was going to Canada with dad and Carol for a 2-day holiday. and i dreamt i was stuck in a class full of 12-year-olds who all thought i was in the wrong place.
woke up at 12 with an ache in my jaw and the comforter thrown off me.
a thought gripped me last night as i was falling asleep.
it seems that our lives seem so much more our own when we have rooms and possessions to call 'my own'.
ugh it seems so shallow and materialistic when i put it this way, but when i thought of it last night it seemed quite Eureka-ish.
the last few nights have seen me sleeping in my mom's room until last night when i moved back to my own bed. and my sense of me immediately came back to me, and this sense of me included all my aspirations, problems and feelings.
previously when i'd been sleeping in my mother's room, i didn't really feel like i was me. i just felt like my mother's child, without a care in the world as i slept afternoons away in the darkened, cool room. surrounded by piles and piles of fluffy, downy pillows and with the fan blowing cool air serenely at my face.
but last night in my own bed, as i wrote in my diary, the sense of carelessness towards the world had dissipated and i was awash in my own frustrations once more.
i was trying to put a name to something i felt, but to no avail. do you have any idea how pissifying that is? to be unable to call a pink spoon a pink spoon cos firstly, the pink isn't exactly pink, it could be mistaken as red, and secondly, the spoon isn't purely a spoon - it's a spoon with fork-like properties. so you can't call it a pink spoon. neither can you call it a red fork. it's just what it is.
when you can't disentangle the ropes of emotions from each other and classify sadness as sadness and happiness as happiness, contentment as contentment and disenchantment as disenchantment, like as like and dislike as dislike; nothing's quite so simple anymore. say sadness is blue string and happiness as red string, contentment is green string and disenchantment is yellow string, like is pink string and dislike is purple string - if all the strings got tangled up in each other and you can't separate the blues from the pinks or yellows from the reds, you just feel like taking a scissors and cutting the knots all out.
of course, you'd be left with bits of cut string all over the place after all's been cut and undone, but that isn't the right way to untangle string is it?
a healthy dose of patience to undo all the knots is required and advised for.
enough analogies for the hour i say. the weather looks good to snuggle in bed and sleep.
i think i shall drink an extra-sweet cup of Ribena then retire to my comfy bed with my baby pillow in hand. :)
