Tag Archives: musing

Fixation Problem

My ex-husband said I have a fixation problem.

To him, it means not being able to forgive and forget his deliberate mistakes and failing to turn a blind eye to his shortcomings and not shutting up about it.

In another context I would agree with him, I do have a temporary obsessive interest in something sometimes, like scarves, bags, shoes, succulents, porcelain dolls, silk flowers, and food. Luckily like happiness and the first intoxication of morphine, it doesn’t last very long. I could easily forget the obsession and move on to the next thing. 

But while I am in that obsessive state, nothing can stop me. I must and will acquire whatever the object of my desire at that moment. Which reminds me of someone accusing me of exactly the same thing but talking about people.

Anyway, the other day while watching Strictly Come Dancing I noticed that everyone wore a Remembrance Poppy brooch and I was right away interested. I saw paper versions of the same pin but these ones were different, they were proper jewelry, beautiful and shining. Looking closely, I saw that there were few varying designs, some were larger, some smaller, others had only one stem and no leaves and one was with diamonds. After scrutinizing each, I decided that I want only three and was so elated I was practically dancing around on the front of the T.V. 

Then, like a cold November shower, I suddenly came to the realization that there is no way I could have them; not those exact designs, and before I knew it I was in tears. I was so sad if my heart could break it certainly would at that moment. And I don’t even like jewelry and seldom wear any. But those pins were so cute I wanted to put them next to each other and admire them. I like to have anything that can put a smile on my face. There are not so many of those. The list is short: certain puppies, certain dolls, certain babies, birds and anything unusual.

Before the night was over, I have forgotten about the poppies already but for one short moment, they were so important to me, enough to make me cry, and I didn’t even bat an eyelash when I’d lost 2,000 dollars on a bus while on holiday and certainly didn’t shed a single tear during or after my divorce or when my parents died. 

Do I have a fixation problem? 

I don’t know.

What do you think? 

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We’re Almost There

Countdown to Christmas… Is new year resolution still in fashion? Or Que Sera Sera is the ‘it’ approach these days? Is the thought that really counts or deep down inside everyone’s dream present is the one with the priciest tag? Me? I don’t expect anything. That way, I would save myself loads of disappointment(s)… If I have to alter something this coming year, that would be___ to learn to relax, to have a proper sleep and to get out more. Basically the same M.O. each year.

How about you?

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I Don’t Do Happy

Somewhere someone told me: “You’re too heavy to digest on a daily basis.”

It reminds me of what a reader once said to me a long time ago, that she will not recommend me for daily consumption. According to her, she didn’t yet meet someone who is constantly in a dark mood 365 days. People get depressed, have bad days, angry, hurt, grieving lonely and sad but not ceaselessly she said. In most cases, being down is an exception to the rule. Normal people are mostly happy most of the times she added. I, on the other hand, seem to have a perpetual dark cloud hanging above my head, following me everywhere and on occasions releasing torrents of rain if not thunder and lightning.

Before the revelation, I was not aware that I was projecting this kind of image out there. I thought I was just being me, relating things the way I always do: honest and straight to the point without beating around the bushes. In fact, I didn’t realize I sound pessimistic. Like in real life, I tell stories matter of factly. I never like drama nor I ever aspire to play a victim. It is simply not my way of handling things. I can’t help that my life happened the way it happened. Believe me, if I could choose, I would have chosen another path you can be sure of that.

But according to my mother-in-law, it isn’t the constant dark mood that is the problem with me because she never has seen a more well-disposed individual than I am. (She must know because we go together on a three week holiday each year.) It is those weighty/heavy conversations I seem to favor that the problem is. Most people don’t do these kinds of talks because they are often revealing, confronting and emotionally taxing. 

 I beg to disagree. 

What they call a heavy conversation is to me a chit-chat. If they want me to go shallower than that, I might as well shut up. Why spent hours talking if you have nothing sensible to say? If you are not genuinely interested in the person/people you are taking with, why pretend? Why spend time with each other? Why bother?

Anyway, I still don’t believe I really am like that. I could believe I am not everyone’s cup of tea, it’s nothing new to me but perpetually dark mood and favoring emotionally taxing conversations … no.

Again, it reminds me of yet another incident which happened again, a long time ago when people I then acquainted with said another thing which again wasn’t true.

I didn’t know anymore how it all begun and what was the reason but while sitting on a terrace looking down to a group I used to hang out with back then, I heard one of them said I have a frozen heart. Then someone chimed in: “Frozen? It would be better if her heart is only frozen so there will still be a chance of thawing it but if you ask me her heart isn’t frozen it is made of iron.” Laugher followed. Not to be outdone, another one of them stated: “Iron you said? Then my friend you are wrong. Her heart is made of concrete it is impossible to melt.” Another burst of laughter.

They were aware I was watching. They knew I was there, hearing their comments, and I believe they mean no harm and only fooling around and the remarks didn’t make me angry or hurt but it made me think though. It made me realized how wrong they were and how little did they know me.

It reminds me of what my mother said to me once upon a time. She said I am not capable of loving anyone. I don’t know if she was talking about herself because her own judgment certainly is applicable to her. My ex-husband would agree with her though because according to him I am a man-hater.

The truth is I am neither one of those they were accusing me of. I just didn’t find anyone yet worth___ how could I say it? Loving? Losing myself? Breaking my heart over with? Crying buckets full? I don’t know also on what they were basing their opinions of me. All I know is they aren’t true. And I’m getting better. There was a time I could not incorporate the world love in writing I always substitute it with aarrgh instead. And I am not terrified of colors anymore. I can stand them now on my blog. I still favor black and white or sepia but colors are no longer banned.

But still, I don’t do happy. I cannot. I don’t know where to begin.

If I say I am watching a beautiful bird and I like it, am I happy?

If I enjoy walking in the city, am I happy?

If some days I feel blessed and content, am I happy?

How do I know I am happy? What happiness feels like?

Can you tell me?

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We Are All Pinocchio

“Pinocchio went out into the world. He went on his road filled with good intentions, with a vision. He went ready to do all the things he dreamed, but he was pulled this way and that. He was distracted. He faltered. He made mistakes. But he kept on. Pinocchio, in the end, became himself — because the little flame inside him, no matter what crap he went through, would not be extinguished.” 

~Patty Smith

Seems to me even before he becomes a real boy, Pinocchio was already experiencing the reality of real life and more real than most of us. Everything that was mentioned above is characteristic of being human. I beg to disagree with this passage ” in the end, he became himself. “ In my eyes, he didn’t become, he was himself all along. He stayed true to himself no matter what without losing his core -the little flame that refused to be extinguished. When he first ventured out into the world, he was naive (recognizable?) and made poor choices and picked the wrong company and tried to get out of tricky situations by lying. We all did these in some points in our lives. If you tell me you hadn’t, then you’re lying. None of us were born aware and equipped with all the knowledge to survive in this world. We learned it as we go along stumbling and falling. In the end, like Pinocchio, we will realize who we are and where we belonged but the foundation of our true selves is already laid from the start. No amount of experience good or bad could alter our genetic makeup. It could alter the shape a bit but not the core. We are who we are and how we deal with things (attitude) shows what lies beneath. No mask and amount of lying and pretending could hide the real character of a person because eventually, it will show through his actions. I rather deal with an obnoxious person with a good heart than a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

How about you?

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Random Thoughts On Wednesday

I wish I could say I have a love-hate relationship with food, at least, that way, there is still one positive side to it but the truth is I neither love nor hate food. For me consuming any form of nourishment is nothing but a necessary evil. I don’t enjoy the act nor the taste. My father said I eat like a soldier and it doesn’t change since then. I gobble and gulp the food as if there is no tomorrow and with minimal chewing. The sooner it’s done the better. If I have one feeling which associated with food that would be guilt.

I feel guilty when I eat and I don’t know why. Never been anorexic or bulimic. Never had so much issue with my weight. Of course, I don’t want to get fat who does anyway but a serious problem regarding weight I never have. But I feel guilty nonetheless when consuming a fair quantity of food. What is a fair amount in my book? Eating three times or more a day. I feel that I should be eating only once or not at all. If I could skip a meal or two, That would be ideal. I feel better that way. Believe you me if I can go on without food I will, there is no doubt about that.

I only eat when I’m dying of hunger or craving for something. Mostly fried crunchy food because sweets I can’t tolerate. I never fancy cakes or ice cream. I can eat them without a problem (if you consider lactose and gluten intolerance not a problem) but I draw the line at chocolates. No matter how hard I try I simply cannot acquire the taste for it. I can go so far as saying I hate them. I don’t care if they are artisanal or expensive coated with eatable gold leaf, if it’s chocolate, I pass.

So, where is my aversion for food originated from?

From my youth, where else you might say, but I don’t think so. We were poor and every meal we considered a feast back then. I grew up on a diet of seafood being born and bred in a fishpond. Meat was scarce and so hard to come by we only had them once a week on Sunday. If you want to know a little bit more about how my life was when I was growing up, you can read some of the painful details here and here.

Anyway, whatever psychological issues I have with food, I don’t know where it comes from. All I can say is: Food doesn’t excite me. I wish I can go on without.

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Scattered Thoughts Of Sleep-Deprived OCD

When I started blogging (not here, somewhere, wrong platform good for learning) I only use black & white images for that time, colors terrified me. And the contents of my blog page were darker than the images I cringe whenever I remember it. Which I cannot understand because at that time I was still more or less alive and actually having a life. Those were the days also that I could not type nor incorporate the word ‘love’ in any of my articles. I just could not do it. I tried though. But the feeling is akin to trying to eat something you utterly despise and trying to swallow it makes you want to vomit violently. Even now I have difficulties in tackling the topic. I just don’t do love, I don’t do happy.  


It’s been in my mind for quite some time now, experiencing it first hand with my own family and seeing it happening almost everywhere I cannot ignore it. Pleasing or trying to please both or one of your parents is what I’m talking about. It seems that most individuals are trying to live up to the expectations of their fathers or mothers. My son spent most of his teenage and young adult life trying to prove to his uninterested in him father that he’s worth loving and someone to be proud of. Though they are both sensitive to my opinion, my daughter has an unhealthy competition urge towards me to the point of she hates everything that I am. D. who has a model childhood experience and fairy tale existence has an incomprehensively tense relationship with his own father he avoids seeing him if possible. And if they do meet, they try to outdo each other in their achievements, social status, financial aspects, and material possessions. I don’t understand.

Why, Because I never had the urge to prove myself to anyone. Not only to my own parents but to anybody. I don’t know which is healthier psychological wise: Their confusing behavior or my nonchalant approach to it. But like most of my attitudes and actions, this particular practice of mine is also not deliberate. In fact, I might continue to overlook the difference if I wasn’t born perceptive and has a habit of overanalyzing everything I noticed, trying to understand whatever it is so I can disregard its importance in my existence or add it to my huge collections of points to ponder and something to learn from. Any which way I think it’s not normal. But what is normal, especially nowadays.


I think I’m getting better. I can sleep now with the door open. Not every day and never in the night but early in the morning when I tilt the window for ventilation. Speaking of tilting the windows and doors, I can leave them open now during the day without thinking someone would get in and attack me. No, that would be a lie. In the back of my mind, the thought is still there but not quite so strong anymore not to do it. I can take a bath now too when I’m alone in the house. I still put a knife next to me but still, in my norm, it’s a colossal improvement. I hope I get there before it’s too late for me to care.


That’s my thoughts for today. Until next time and thanks for coming. 

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The Saddest Truth

“No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.”
― Haruki Murakami

Isn’t it just? 

Though sometimes I wish I have or would develop an amnesia. Selective amnesia for that matter. But then again I thought: the past and my experience sum me up, they made me the person I am today, laughter, tears and pain included. They are lessons learned in a hard way and I wonder if without them I will be still that naive starry-eyed chick I once been. Would I be this knowledgeable, compassionate, emphatic, pragmatic if I never went through that ordeal? I guess not. I guess I just have to accept that:

 “My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are gray faces that peer over my shoulder.” 
― William Golding

And I truly believe that the past is what makes me strong, keeping me in check and stopping me to fall victim to circumstances and abling me to view this life in a very sober manner and at the same time making me appreciative of the little miracles that come my way. So, I’d say shoulder on and be grateful for having those gray faces as companions.

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Genetic Makeup

I have always been fascinated with the DNA of everything. More in clinical ways than theoretical or scientifical. How can I explain it… I want to know the hows and whys of a living organism without spending hours, weeks, years in a laboratory or drowning myself in paperwork. I want to understand why things behave in certain ways. For example, why cacti (and succulents for that matter) know what shape to evolve and what kind of spines, glochids, spinose teeth or whatever they call it to grow to protect themselves. Why they flower when one abuses and neglects them? Why siblings who grew up in the same environment, shared the same genetic makeup, identical background, and upbringing become completely two different individuals, opposite in every way. Why two identical plants, planted side by side in the garden grow completely different from each other, one of them big and robust, the other small, thinly and dying. I once dismantled a transistor radio and a watch of my father out of sheer curiosity. I wanted to know how they work, what makes them tick. I am none the wiser of course after that episode. I lack the knowledge and the drive to pursue the interest. I am more artistically inclined than technical though I like to think I am both. Anyway, isn’t it handy if we understand the mechanism of everything so we can treat them accordingly?

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Breakfast

To win the peace you must first fight the war.

History confirms the above saying and we witness one or other form of it happening in day to day life but still I have a trouble believing it must be so. Unjustified… Injustice… Unjustification…. are the words that playing in my head. I don’t know if it affects me greatly because I can relate to this- in my life there is no such thing as easy gain. I have to fight with all my might for every inch of space, every ounce of respect, for freedom, for personal rights… for my very existence- or being a warrior is just a part of my genetic makeup. In any case it doesn’t sit right with me. I feel angry by just reading these words. I can associate it with everything that is happening around me- there is no donuts anymore in the nearby filling station or anywhere close to where I live. There is no decent coffee either when you want it. The least you can get is half a cup of lukewarm brew- around the world- global warming and all the consequences of it. The disappearance of all the things that have something to do with quality, morals and values. I can’t rant on and on but I will not (as if this post is not ranting enough) not this time- I just cant believe one has to fight in order to gain something that supposed to be a birthright, right? Like freedom and the right to exist and be treated accordingly regardless of which walk of life you came from or the colour of your skin or if you are beautiful or not, female or male or member of the third sex or belonged to the lower class of animal (which for me is humans) handicapped or having mental illness. All because of these laws created by man which resulted to prejudiced society of supposed to be educated people from civilized countries who cannot even exercise common decency between them. And I’m ranting early in the morning just because I am sick and can’t sleep since Sunday. What that makes me?

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Wednesday 4th Of July

It’s been a long month without rain. My garden looks crunchy and my water bill steadily rising together with the temperature. The breeze which made the last three weeks of intense heat bearable is now gone, get tired of holding the fort till the rain comes which is nowhere in sight. I don’t remember a weather like this. Not even in my country of birth. It is now forbidden to water the plants, wash your car, fill the pool and light the barbecue. Funny because it’s swimming pool/barbecue weather. Pretty ironic.  For the first time since I came here, there are at least eleven reported wildfires per day wherever vegetations are dried enough to be combustible. Scary. 

I have a lot of things to do in the garden. Hedges to trim spent plants to remove, seeds to collect and perennials to divide. But high ozone concentration and pollen counts made it impossible to even sit and relax in the garden. It’s too hot and humid I can barely breathe.

Not wanting to miss my daily walks, I often set out after it cools down and heads mostly near any body of water. I avoid forests and nature reserves because of murderous hungry insects. I walk along canals or lakes and on weekends I go to the sea where there is always some wind and the temperature usually lower than the mainland. I visit a different coastal area every time to have some variations. New places ignite my creativity. I need a changing horizon and different sun each day in order to function properly. It is always a long drive and I ended up with a stiff neck and sore muscles but I prefer the pain of being tired physically and satisfied mentally than being bored and in pain anyway.

I don’t know what I’m going to do today. Maybe make a beeline for any garden center to find a replacement for the cactus that got sunburned the other day. I killed houseplants by TLC. I have over 200 of them inside. Acquired only this winter when I could not garden outside. When I was gone for three weeks, I thought they will not survive and often think of them while on vacation. I found them flowering happily when I came back. None of them have died. They can take care of themselves. They don’t need me. Since then, I killed at least five by moving them around looking for a better place for them and of course by overwatering. I have to learn to leave them alone. But I refuse to believe that anything could thrive on neglect.  Not even people.

I wish for the rain. My garden and I need it. Did I tell you that my favorite weather is stormy weather? I even wrote a post about it here. You click it when you have the time. Anyway, this all for now and till next time.

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Scared

My dark secrets are life-threatening. Pockets of unhappiness set in aspic that build and build. I have this primitive feeling that if something good happens, it is going to be followed by something bad. There is always a price to pay.  – Sue Townsend

What I’m scared of?

Happy. I’m scared to be happy.

My experience of happiness, the bits and snippets of it had always been threaded with pain. When bad things are happening for too long you’ve come to expect it that when good things come your way, you think it’s a trap, a trick to lure you only to find out that at the very end there is nothing but false promises designed to fool you in believing like with other people happiness exists for you too.

But sadly, experience had shown me otherwise. Good things indeed never last. I am so familiar with the cliché that it keeps me from enjoying the moment, knowing what will happen next, I am already dreading the inevitable before it’s actually there. Life taught me not to be attached to anything or anyone. I learned (without knowing) not to miss people and places. Everything is temporary. Heraclitus said: The Only Thing That Is Constant Is Change and I agree. Nothing lasts forever. Especially good things.

Someone somewhere asked: What exactly is the standard to be happy? And I thought: Yeah, what is? Success? Network? Family? Material things? All of them? None of them? I don’t know. 

Do you?

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