the unbearable lightness

Funny how all the uni mates are in town and yet I'm spending time at home, sprawled on the couch, watching tv and ingesting some sort of chocolate (this morning it was white chocolate from Thornton's). But it has brought some much needed chill-age into my life. Mel arrived Wednesday and it's already Saturday afternoon, cool and grey with sunny patches.

Last night began at the Mango Tree, one of my favourite restaurants in London - deep fried ducky eggs, steamed fish wrapped in banana leaves, crispy pork belly, mussaman curry, and champagne. What girl wouldn't be deliriously happy with this fare shared with some of her best mates? On the ball, the odd trio Sarah, Mel and I form, we jumped into the first cab that came along and found our way to Shochu, a warm woody Japanese bar that reminds me of the Yasuragi spa Mel and I visited this summer. Leaning against the raw wood surfaces, sipping on shochu drinks, I zoned for a while. It was only when Hanna showed up that I discovered it had been 4, not 2 years since we had last met.

Much of the conversation washed over me - the unique company, the feeling of years passing, the music, the light, the alcohol created a heady atmosphere. 'Jen's drunk' Mel said. 'No I'm not. Okay, well maybe I'm on my way. But I'm just happy.' The face I had been holding up to the world over the past few weeks fell away. And it was such a relief. However temporary it may be.

storm passing

Been in a pretty shit mood lately. Emotions let loose and drama, fucking drama all over the place, I would probably puke if I wasn't working. At night my torso twists and caves, as if I'm literally breaking in half.

What's that? There's a flicker outside, like a flash bulb. No, it couldn't be. And then the familiar rumble of thunder and the soft vibrations below. And all of a sudden, everything's okay, and I'm warmed by thoughts of being at home as Texas t-storms swirl and steam over the city.

revisiting the past

At the beginning of the graduate training programme, we were asked our favourite song, as a way to help remember our names. I hate questions like that. Every song has its place and time. There's a favourite song for every mood.

I had re-loaded my mp3 player a few weeks ago, but only a few days ago I decided to play an album I hadn't listened to in...well, ages. I listened to this song endlessly throughout high school, so much so that I couldn't bear to hear it in uni. And now I listen to it, knowing what I know now and remembering those days and those feelings, which still hold sway over me at my weakest moments. It's the closest thing to my 'favourite' song.

Listen as the wind blows
from across the great divide
Voices trapped in yearning
memories trapped in time
The night is my companion
and solitude my guide
Would I spend forever here
and not be satisfied

And I would be the one
to hold you down
kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes dear

Through this world I've stumbled
so many times betrayed
Trying to find an honest word
to find the truth enslaved
Oh you speak to me in riddles and
you speak to me in rhymes
My body aches to breathe your breath
your words keep me alive

And I would be the one
to hold you down,
kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear

Into this night I wander
it's morning that I dread
Another day of knowing of
the path I fear to tread
Oh into the sea of waking dreams
I follow without pride
Nothing stands between us here
and I won't be denied

And I would be the one
to hold you down,
kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear...

- Possession by Sarah Mclachlan

ruminating

...about a lot of things. Everyday is different from the next but we manage to so easily forget that because some days begin things that temporarily throws everything else off kilter. And so I'm bobbing along, quite content with everything, with everyone, and then I begin to ovulate and all of a sudden I feel like one of those old alarm clocks, broken with all the springs sticking out, just barely keeping it together.

Hormones suck. They give everything significance.

all in good time

Into the third week of October already.

Only 11 weeks to the New Year. My birthday falls on a Friday the 13th next year which gives me a ridiculous amount of pleasure.

Only 7 weeks until I see the parents and head to India, where I will spend the first week ill and emaciated and the second eating cornflakes, aloo puri and wine made by my eldest azou. I can't wait.

Only 6 weeks to Thanksgiving, the best American holiday and the only one I always want to celebrate. I'd like to have a dinner but I don't think I could cook for that many people myself. I thought it could be a small thing but when I count the people I would/should invite, the bare minimum is 11 and it would end up being more like 16. Can I enlist the aid of Wonderwoman for this one? Oh yeah, I've never cooked a 20lb bird before...

Only 2 weeks before Maya and Momma Russia arrive. Toby is so excited. Mango Tree, Mamma Mia, spa treatments, ritual Spitalfields browsing. What else will the weekend bring? How did UT and Aiesec descend on London this fateful year?

Time to slow a bit, but cool grey days have that effect on me. It's nice to wake up and drink my bialetti cappuccino, watching Marzie cook breakfast for her boyfriend, smelling the incense waft out the window. The last few weeks I've hardly seen the flat, only been home directly from work a handful of times, and making the most of the graduates' presence at work at the expense of my core friends. Ah well, all in good time.