Transit of darkness.

When one is suffering from a writer's block, words just refuses to get out and I am having the worst form of it. The words are escaping me, and I feel like a complete illiterate trying to catch up with them. Trust me, I have tried a couple of times to write something but the words gather at the slowest speed and I get frustrated. Even now, I just want to shut this page down, crawl into my bed and watch a movie that shouldn't have been made in the first place. I am trying ways to open my mind; I tried reading but all I have been reading, plays almost zero relevance to the deep-emotional-inspirational articles I really need to immerse myself in.  Polls on who Kardashian-West baby's look take after and a lot of askmen on how to make a lady orgasm and even weird ones like how to fake a male orgasm, won't do much for me at the end of the day but I couldn't stop myself from opening yet another bubble-gum news. And honestly, why would men need to fake an orgasm? That makes everything statistically wrong (Aren't men like some sort of overachievers capable of reaching the toe-curling-head-out-of-space sensation every single time?), unless, of course, in cases when they have been having sex with another woman and then coming back home to another woman as guilty as one can be, but not having the heart to hurt her and he doesn't have enough load and energy. (And yes, I have also been reading up on cheating spouses, because I found myself stumbling upon huffingtonpost's divorce section).

I am in this transitional period of some sort where I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon. I am changing, slowly, as a individual, as a writer, as a dreamer and as a realist. I am changing into another person, different from whom I am familiar with. It is like a fresh new haircut, you don't like but after a few weeks of growth, you can't stop obsessing about how the layers of the hair is finally falling into place but right now, I am still at the phrase of hating it but I know I will eventually like it or I can always go for yet another haircut to correct all the cuts ruining it. My thoughts are incomprehensible, I can't even hear myself talk and I have lost signals with my inner self and my heart and mind are forks apart, after a narrow road. And everyone knows when you can't feel, listen and know a single thing that is happening in the chambers of the souls, you are just stuck in a rut until for sometime or maybe a long time. I am in a transit of darkness. I feel like a caterpillar about to morph into a butterfly but, a stiff fear of becoming a moth is painfully scary.

Love,
Genisha

Change in taste, a city of wonders

I had always wanted to walk through a flea market ever since I was in Singapore. Today, I went to one and fell in love with all the sunny people and a bunch of useful and useless things stacked together, plenty tables apart. Gentleman knows of my ideal and high expectation of all things that goes through my mind, and tried to warn me of a disappointment but it was exactly what I expected. I cannot wait to go to other markets, especially around the neighbourhood for the rich.

To me, it wasn't at all about the cheap deals, well in tiny parts it was but it was more for the ambience. Those shop keepers are all lounging around, sitting under the sun in their foldable chairs and tables full of wares and stuffs to sell, with their wide-brimmed sun hats and just smiling at everyone. There is no grumpiness or too much of friendliness which is evidential in too much of Melbourne that its suffocating. It was just people, a few dollar coins and raspberry jam filled hot doughnuts, sprinkled with sugar. It was just relaxing and peaceful, everyone there was just out to have a good Sunday and it wasn't all about money-making and money-saving. It was in other words, the perfect way to start off the day.

This weekend has been wickedly amazing for me. Out of spontaneity, gentleman took me to the city at 10pm on a Friday. It was just a drive back home from Ikea, after getting my niece and nephew their birthday present and a on-the-spot kind of decision. I wore pyjamas underneath a black trench coat and gentleman donned a nice shirt and made his hair and we walked to the train station and used our first Myki card (a pass for travelling on public transports) and entered into a whole new world. I loved the city and from there onward, my view on the Australian life is changed forever. It was small arty buildings and nightclubs and young foolish people wearing leggings that deserved to be thrown but I know they actually paid so much for that design. It was lovers and seeing their happiness and it was idiots on the road living their life fully and ladies wearing four inch heels that I would die to own and seeing them
Sashay in their pretty dresses and cute clutches. I felt alive seeing those life within a small estimated land of LED lights and ignored traffic signals. It was also Victorian styled buildings and attention catching buskers. It was seeing the Herald Sun's building and so much more, to me, it was all inches of perfection except that maybe, we paid too much for the terrible quality of sushi and sashimi.

By the time, we finished one side of the city,we were yawning and aching and besides we had decided to come back in the morning but we slept until 11.20am (very unusual for us because by 8, I drag gentleman out of bed for breakfast). We must have been exhausted, we snoozed on the train back home (we have perfected the art of sleeping while traveling) while I secretly giggled at one Chinese man trying to really ace his accent with his fellow Chinese friend and a white man. It was hilarious for a few seconds and then, it started to get annoying, like holy crap, 'I am going to be a poser like him' reality check. He just going on about the girls who hates him (next interest character already, please). Everything about that night was 11/10.

And from that night onwards, the Australia life doesn't seem suffocating. Everything is looking rosey, I am even getting good buys and my stove is finally working with me and my food are not under cooked or burnt and even gentleman has been cooking the yummiest meals for us while I slug it out on the table just thinking of the next step and wondering how impossible it seemed to be, that one person could bring so much happiness to me and how the country changed overnight for me, though perhaps, I should have bought romantic novels at the flea market instead of true crime stories based in Australia. I am this close to shitting in my pants reading it that every little crackling of the book's spine has me all alert and waiting for a man to pop up from somewhere to kill me. Oh god bless me!

P.s. I am trying to start on a series for the blog but I don't know if I am capable of executing it. Help?

With love,
Genisha

Lessons after lessons

Well, I always thought I was or could be Bree Van de Kamp (Marcia Cross) of Wisteria Lane, now I am pretty sure I am old Karen McCluskey (Kathryn Joosten). For those of you who can't put an image to the two characters, Bree is modern day Stanford wife who cooks delicious and her roses are always in full pretty bloom and Karen is just an old fart (excuse me) who is always seen snooping around and gossiping. When we were kids, my parents used to say we were lucky that we were educated and not mowing the fields with buffalos. I never used to think much of it but today as I was gardening the smallest patch of our backyard garden, their words rung so loudly. Ladies and gentlemen, parents are seldom in the wrong. Oh, how I was dreaming of plucking my own fresh ripen red tomatoes from my own garden and other produces! I think we also made a mistake in purchasing the wrong sized (too tiny, we bought) tools for gardening but I am beaming some confidence in my herb garden and my blue hydrangeas. They were something I always wanted as young girl and now, brushing my fingers through their growing leaves and smelling my fingers flips my stomach is much excitement. It is a dream come true and they make me so happy. They are my babies. Yes, I am also the weird blogger who blogs about her plants (offense to anyone is unintended) than her human babies.

The past two weeks have been extremely intense. Making a home from scratch is not easy, trust me you! I am never one to enjoy shopping, especially with another person and that is exactly what we have been doing, over and over again and constantly on the lookout for a good bargain for the best. The only problem was, I have no idea how to qualify the price and quantify the good. The dollar game is such a tricky game, thankfully, I never found myself stopping once to compare the price of each item with Nepalese currency and it was too many unfamiliar brands to absorb at once for which I am thankful for my sister's nosing around with everything in my hand and throwing out 9.9/10 picks, saying I will find better deals - which would have been a good thing until it has left me too afraid to purchase anything without her consultation. I am usually the kind of shopper who picks and buys whatever I like even though it is too expensive because I am also the kind who thinks I deserve it all but now, it is totally different. Without thinking, I cannot wait to start earning to cover my own living, and even my luxurious expenses. It's more about my independence than depreciating gentleman's open invitation as a sugar daddy.

Most days, I think I am settling fine, even though too many days are tougher than the rest but every step is a lesson to learn. When you are much younger and less rigid about changes, because when you are young what else do you care for except a new toy or something in the line, it is easier to adapt but as you are older, a new toy or something I really love, is not enough to not zone out and be less afraid even though an actual fear is not present. Everything is new and everything is heart stopping and a second thought over. It's deep scrutiny over all I come across which includes my own actions. . It's a lot of discovery and a lot of wandering eyes figuring this new arena. Learning when the rest has already learnt is just appalling, I feel like an alien (well, I am an alien, aren't I) and strangers' eyes feel uneasy. I feel like a blinking strobe when I just want to be the darkest light. The other day I was going about photocopying my documents but since everything is computerised and something I have never done before, my heart was in my mouth. Back home, you would just chuck the papers to be copied to the owner because he wouldn't trust us poking his old machines and get the job done and pay but here, everyone is just on the go and everyone just wants to help themselves and be left at that. It's lessons after lessons.

I am an introvert who becomes an extrovert only in places and with people I am comfortable with, if not it is just eyes down and little to say.  I will be lying if I say I don't wish to be back home in my perfect comfort zone but then, I remember this is home, as well.

Additional add on: Holy crap,  Blogger the host for my blog changed my URL with an additional (dot)au and I just realized it. Come on already, no more changes!

With love,

Genisha