TTS: Interludes of Life

23:08p.m., Thursday, 18 February 2016

One of the many perks of having a  40% glass-walled corner bedroom on the 11th floor of a Jo'burg high-rise apartment building, is that I get to sleep and awaken to one of the most breathtakingly beautiful views of the city. It's one of those things you could easily take for granted if you don't appreciate the splendour of simplicity. Not me, though. I'm constantly reminded how each day -- regardless of routine and its similarity to the previous day -- will never be exactly the same as any other; there's always an element of change. It's also unfathomable to think that each day is a priceless gem no one will ever own.

You can be possessed by it, but you can never possess it.

Remarkable, isn't it?

Hm. My Karma plays very nice though. 

TTS: Interludes of Life

21:59p.m., Tuesday, 16 February 2016

I should be writing.

But I've been researching since I left the office. It's the perfectionist in me -- she won't rest until it feels "just right". This isn't exactly the time to be delaying though; I have a deadline tomorrow. Yikes!

On the topic of work things... did I mention that I've serendipitously been working with "my ex"? My first boyfriend, that is... he was my first-kiss and all. It was the strangest thing. Three weeks ago, as I was typing away at my desk, he casually waltzed into the office -- causing me to lose balance of my chair after recognising him and almost falling. He was taken aback, too; we were both utterly gobsmacked to see each other. After nine years. Where we least expected. (I secretly spent a moment thanking my lucky stars our "breakup" wasn't a bitterly bad one, otherwise this working period was bound to be a nightmare.) My colleague and mentor has taken to calling him "Karma", because she's convinced there's a karmic reason we found ourselves in the same space every day again. (I just think it mere coincidence. We don't want to get back into the habit of reading too much into things, now, do we?) She's a lovely, funny soul, that one. Anyway, it's been good seeing, and sort of working with him after all that time. I'll be woman enough to admit that I snuck peaks at his behind every time he walked past my desk. He's still got those deathby--chocolate-man brackets! Jee. Sus.

While I remain rooted at the office, he gets to travel everywhere  Bummer. I still love my job though.

So long, Karma.

TTS: Interludes of Life

TTS: Interludes of Life

22:42p.m., Monday, 15 February 2016

This has had to be one of the bluest Mondays I've had in years. Borderline Black Monday, actually. I feel overworked, overwhelmed, misunderstood and underappreciated. Go ahead and call me a big baby, but it's not often that I complain, and when I do, I like to let all the emotional burdens go.

You've probably guessed it: my skies were covered in  grey clouds for some time because I'm missing my sunshine.

Precious.

I miss her always, but during times like this, I miss her most. I'd just love to sit in silence with her, cuddled in her loving embrace. As silly as it seems, I'm still mildly in disbelief that it's almost been five years since I last heard her voice or popped her an email. Each day, more and more -- as a young, independent woman who's become the proud epitome of her mother, I wish I had the opportunity to wrap my arms around her and tell her, "I'm sorry; I understand now. I understand you and your decisions. I understand more than ever. And I'm sorry I'll never get the chance to make it up to you. I love you. Even when I sometimes feel like you bailed out on us... I love you dearly. And I understand. I understand you more than ever."

I need to sleep -- to rest my tear ducts a little. Hopefully, these clouds would've shifted by morning to let in some much-needed light.

What I Like About You

You know what you want.
You're not afraid to make clear what it is you want with, and from me -- even from the beginning.

You're ready to love.
As terrifying as it is leaving your heart in someone else's hands, you've learnt to trust me with yours, and you don't make me feel guilty for how I feel at any time -- be it good or bad.

You accept my complex personality.
To my advantage, you've been able distinguish the difference between complex and complicated, and you find the beauty in that complexity (as much of a pain it can it be identifying it at times).

You try.
Going out of your way to make my day or to make up for something: priceless.

You forgive me when I screw up.
Surprise: I'm not as perfect as I seem! Yes, you know this, and you don't make it a point of reminding me about it at every turn.

You have a hearty sense of humour.
Your laughter is life, and so is your ability to laugh things off.

You're creative and spontaneous you.
It's no secret: I'm a cheap date who's easily impressed but not easily won over. When I least expect it, there you are, effortlessly putting a smile on my face. I'm not into big fancy or expensive love gestures (although I would never rule them out!), so I appreciate the simple things you do more than you know. 

You put up with my long texts and hand-written letters.
You know how sentimental I am and how much I love these, so I enjoy them even more when they're from you.

You educate yourself.
There's nothing I find sexier than a man who reads; who's constantly working towards being better than he was yesterday -- physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally.

You're unapologetically you.
In a world that's got it mapped out what we're all supposed to be like, you've made peace with how different you are, how you think and what you want for yourself -- challenging convention and withstanding the backlash that comes with challenging it.

You accept my nauseating honesty.
I can be abnormally blunt, which pushes some people away, but has seemingly brought you closer.

I'm a complete weirdo.
Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with myself, or I find fitting in impossibly hard. (I swear, I don't always get away with "normal".) And you still like me regardless.

You love with all you are.
Your kindness, your thoughtfulness and your sincerity take my breath away -- living every bit in the moment and not saving anything for a future that may never come.

You make my world a brighter place.

Whether it's a blinking moment or a century, here's to a lifetime of us.

TTS: Interludes of Life

01:03.a.m., Saturday, 13 February 2016

We had quite a few bizarre, uncertain moments tonight.

And I relished them all, Mr Unknown.

TTS: Interludes of Life

Sunday, 21:38pm, 8 February 2016

Hello, my friend.

Yes, I know: I hate this tendency I have of disappearing for months before realising I haven't post anything in ages, too. I've just locked myself in the habit of writing in ink and on paper again, which I find slightly more relaxing and therapeutic than typing on a digital keypad. Sorry, love, I'll work on prioritising each art again.


Hah.

So Valentine's Day coming up. Soon. The less than 168-hours kind of soon. Yay. Freaking. Yay. (That's me attempting to be sarcastic.)

For someone who's quite the romantic (the erect-a-tent-in-my-bedroom-to-create-a-romantic-nook for-two-and-get-my-sister-and-a-friend-to-wait-on-us-because-restuarants-are-such-obvious-past-times-on-this-day-and-I-want-to-do-something-refreshingly-different-even-though-he-hated-it type of romantic), I'm puzzled by my usual indifference about Valentine's. I used to be excited about it -- or at least I think I used to be, but nowadays, I'd probably forget on what day it is were it not for the stark reminders on every social media platform I'm on. Yes, LinkedIn's caught up, too [irritably rolls eyes].

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those depressingly bitter women who dread the day because I'm not a) getting serenaded or surprised by the love of my life, b) single and miserable, or c) in a loveless and hopeless relationship; I'm indifferent because "Valentine's Day" is something I prefer doing at least once a month when I'm in a relationship. It's the rule and not the exception for me. That's not to say, though, that I wouldn't be blown away at Worthy Suitor's attempt at stealing my heart with a three-course dinner, a bouquet of red roses and a box of exquisite chocolates (we're getting as cliche as possible here) -- by all means, go ahead and let's it -- I mean, we both need to eat, and I'll appreciate it... you've just got to bring more to the table personally than a charming personality and healthy finances to win me over in the mid- and long-term.

And for real love's sake, wear something purple instead of red.

(PS: My Cupid knows all of this already, so no, iwoza-woza won't cut it.)