getting to 30

Im turning 30 next year. 30! If I were lucky enough to live to 60, I’m well on my way to a mid-life crisis already.

30.

Jesus.

Where did it all go?

When I was younger, there were certain things I thought I would have by this time.

A husband.

2 kids.

2 dogs.

Our own house with a nice big garden.

A well-equipped kitchen.

And a quaint little cottage or a beach house somewhere else for the summer.

There is not one item on that list that I can cross off now. How sad has my life become huh?

I still live at home with my folks. Im broke all the time. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m grotesquely overweight, severely flawed and quite mannishly hairy. I don’t even drive for crying out loud.

Not only am I far from where I saw myself, I’m not even in the same galaxy.

BUT

inspite of all that’s wanting in my life, so much more is there.

The folks, the ones I still live with, are awesome. As are the siblings who all still live with the folks as well.

My friends, the most unbelievable mix of wonderful this side of the world.

My husband, the one I have yet to meet but am already in love with, is on his way to sweep me off my feet.

Not having money isn’t so bad all the time. You know that cliché ‘the best things in life are free,’ I believe it more everyday.

And it has to be said, I look better at 29 than I ever did…. flawed and all.

So while my life is far from ideal, it’s not bad.

Not bad at all.

playing fashion police

first off, i am not a fashionista. not a leader. not sheep. to be honest, i dont care much for fashion at all.

but there are some.... get-ups (hahahhah) that really offend my fashion sensibilities to the core.

take the chick i saw five minutes ago for instance.

she was obviously an office chick. obviously on her way back to work from lunch.

and this is how she was dressed.

black tits-tight sando
a short black pin-striped skirt that barely covered her ass
black stockings
a belt that spelled mario
and, to play the proverbial icing on the cake,
ankle-high boots (borrowing the words of carson kressley of the fab 5 "a hooker in makati av. is missing her boots and she wants it back")

to top the look off, her hair was teased high up to kingdom come.

dear god have mercy on us all.

i pity the people she works with for having to see her all day. Actually, i pity the people who are not blind for having to see her at all.

i mean, when i miss sheena easton i break into song

almost over you
i've almost shook these blues

and that satisfies me enough thank you very much.

i dont feel the need to see her when i look in the mirror.

if there were cops for this, she oughtta be scared. very scared.

high on paint fumes

my day started off well enough.

woke up at six. contemplated going to the gym for all of 30 seconds and decided against it (yeah, must definitely work on self-discipline.) slept in for another hour. woke up refreshed and smiling.

took my time in the bath. exfoliated longer than usual. have decided to take deesj's words to heart: exfoliation is your friend.

scrubbed and quasi-beautified, i prepared my baon (pork abodo and chorizo de bilbao - the real deal chorizo de bilbao), played with slugger for a good 3 minutes (more or less) and left.

timed-in at 8:20 (i'm sure our HR bitch would have a heart attack when she sees this - should be incentive enough for me to come in earlier more often - hmmmm) and logged-on yahoo messenger 2 minutes after (which, in etsworld, means i am officially open for business.)

great start. well somewhat.

i had to step out of our office for a minute to talk to our messenger. big mistake, huge. the way to the messengers area from ours was just painted yesterday.

so am now high on paint fumes with a start-up migraine threatening to completely blow-up in an hour.

No promises. No expectations.

i was never one to commit to doing anything on a regular basis. Dictated, undoubtedly, by my astrological influences, my brain is somewhat incapable of comprehending the concept of time and regularity, as most piscean brains are. This is the exact same thing I told my boss when he asked me why i was late all the time - i dont think he found it remotely amusing.

That preamble is there simply to dissuade any expectations that there will be an every tuesday post on this page, should there be a next one at all. I have enough one-entry journals to know that this might very well be one of them.

You see, I've been accused, time and again, of being flighty, unreliable and a flake. I have never taken any offense to the labels owing to the fact that i am all of these things. And besides, sticks and stones may hurt my bones......

But more importantly, those of you who are given the privilege to swim in my "think" pool (i assure you it is not that deep)already know that i am so much more than fickle.

I refuse to enumerate but, suffice it to say that, i am interesting enough.

This, to my humble think, merits me my own little page in this otherwise brilliant site.

At the very least, its something i can do while the rest of the world is busy living.