Things that make you go "hmm..."

I love that things happen every day that amaze me, tickle me, or just make me feel something. The corny version of this statement is: things that remind me that I am alive.

It can be something as simple as the sight of a yellow blossom resting on a green hedge, a vision that makes me feel joyful, and I smile all the way home. Or the cartoon in the newspaper that makes me nod in recognition...or the article that makes my blood boil and I feel despair at the future of normalcy and common sense.

But, every once in a while something catches hold of me...my interest is piqued, and I go off for hours, maybe days thinking about it or reading more about it or, usually, Googling it.

Movies do that sometimes. I Heart Huckabees did that and the movie I just watched did that: Donnie Darko. What an insane journey! I felt the same kind of befuddlement when reading Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder.

So after watching Donnie Darko, I've spent the afternoon looking for more information to answer all my questions, mainly "What the hell was that about?" I don't consider myself to be a scientist, philosopher or existentialist, yet I feel so excited whenever I am introduced to all of these concepts. I want to know!

The Mighty Boosh

Saturday night we ended up at the Hammersmith Apollo to watch a show that neither of us had heard of. You know how it goes...Friday afternoon the all-office email goes out..."Theatre tickets, friends ditched us last minute...anyone?" We had nothing else to do, so off we went.

It was studentville deluxe. We arrived too late for a beer so, thirsty, we sat looking at a bright red curtain with a face on it, waiting for the show to start. People were taking photographs of it. Photographs of the curtain. Hmm, what were we in for?

All-in it was a blast. Loved every minute of it. Whacky crazy brilliant. If you haven't had a taste of Vince and Howard: see it or throw your eyes in the bin.

Yellow-bellied decoy

When I started this blog, I intended it to be magnanimous in its purpose, noble. I thoroughly romanticised the idea of it. It would be my throw-away comment at parties, and I would coyly divulge the throbbing www dotcom loveliness of My Blog- a nonchalant, yet oh so subtle intimation that this was me. You lucky, lucky thing.

As it turns out, that's not what's happening here. I have not told many people about this here place. I'm not a pretender, what you read is real, but there is so much that I'm not saying, and therein lies the hypocrisy. I think.

You get the sanitised me, and frankly it's constrained. Maybe it's a consequence of the job I do...most likely it's because I'm a coward. I'm much angrier, more pissed off, a whole lot sadder, and much much more acidic of tongue and filthy of mind than I like people to think. Big deal?

Obligated

There must be one word that describes this:

• The feeling of frustration experienced when a family member outstays their welcome in your home, and;
• is ignorant of, or deliberately blind to the effect this has on 1) you 2) him 3) your routine 4) your patience 5) all of the above, and;
• expects a level of hospitality that you would not normally provide in your own household, and finally;
• keeps coming back, because, and this is the kicker, how the hell can you say no? She's your mother!

Any suggestions as to what this word may be are welcome. In honour of your creativity, I shall rename this posting accordingly.

The works

Online shopping has to be at the top of the list of things entirely necessary for a working person. The last thing I want to do on the weekend, is go grocery shopping.

I recently switched delivery services, tired and annoyed of waiting around for two hours, only for the groceries to be not only late but also wrong. Always. I'm now with one who delivers in one hour windows, who is always on time, and never gets an order wrong.

Until today.

Now before you nod knowingly and say, 'had to happen one day', allow me to explain. Was my delivery late? No. Was it wrong? Well, yes and no. Yes, it was wrong. No, it's not a problem. Why? Because I got everything I ordered (except for one tiny thing which I will get to in a minute) and in addition to that, I also got a whole chicken and two packets of organic spaghetti.

What I didn't get was my cotton buds. Now, if called upon - in, I don't know, a predicament that required quick-thinking bartering in a world where money was useless and toiletries were a rare commodity - I would again exchange cotton buds for a whole chicken and a kilogram of spaghetti - organic or not.

Dirty/Fruity?

We all know James Bond's preference - a mix of vodka and gin, shaken, not stirred...but recently I found someone else who is particular about their martinis: me.

About a year ago on a visit to glorious New York I was introduced to an Apple Martini, and not long after, in New Jersey of all places, a Dirty Martini. A joyous experience on the first occasion, an unforgettable one on the second (and not in a good way). Not being a cocktail connoisseur, I have since gambled and ordered martinis in various different places, and not been quite as satisfied as I was at Métrazur's in Grand Central.

Out to dinner recently, a colleague visiting from the US asked the waiter - in an Indian restaurant - what kind of vodka they used in their martinis.

He looked at her strangely and said, "Normal vodka".
"What's normal?" she asked curiously.
"Smirnoff", he replied with certainty.

She opted not to order her martini and after he left the table, turned to me and said, with feeling, "The only normal vodka is Grey Goose...anything else can be considered not normal, got it?!"

And so it dawned on me, it's not if it's dirty or fruity, it's got to be vodka, and it's Grey Goose or bust.

Getting by with little help

Friends. I spend a great deal of time wondering how much effort should be put into rejuvenating flagging friendships. It is true that friends are around for a reason, drifting away when the reason is fulfilled, whatever that reason may be? When you lose touch with a friend, how much time do you spend chasing before it's time to resign yourself to the fact that they may not need you...or want you in their lives? Do we accept that friends come and go...or do we remember why we were friends to begin with and focus on that as a reason to keeping trying to reach out? I wish I knew.

Turn back time

Last weekend we went to the Tate Modern to see what was new. He wanted to see the Embankment installation by Rachel Whiteread. It didn't really move me. I scampered through it dying to go up to my favourite piece by Giuseppe Penone.

Tree of 12 metres. I can't do it justice by describing it, and this picture doesn't do the job very well either. Penone took a man-made timber beam and used a chain-saw to chisel it to reveal 'the tree inside'. The form of the tree is visible, showing the knots of the young branches. He leaves the base of the beam to contrast. It's lovely.

Things to look forward to

It's been pretty busy around here lately. Next week brings another series of hard work and late nights. I have:

• my boss visiting the office for a week (from the US)
• two confirmed office dinners, and probably 3 unconfirmed evenings in the pub
• a company presentation at which I will actually be presenting
• a series of difficult conversations
• an assignment due (I passed my exams by the way)
• ...any other essential tasks as assigned

What, you may ask, is there to look forward to? Cake Friday, is my answer. Double chocolate muffin, you can't beat it. A perfect double chocolately end to the week.

GI Jane

I've been dabbling in the world of red, yellow and green. The GI Diet. After following a 7-day plan from a Sunday-paper supplement ('following' is a very loose description) I've decided to give it a proper go. Went out a bought a book and everything, so now I have to do it. Starting tomorrow.

For an indeterminable period - apparently between 3 and 6 months - I have to live my life in the Green column. My favourite fruit - the underestimated banana - falls into the Yellow column, so there lies an immediate problem. My philosophy has always been: as long as its food from the earth, I can eat as much as I wanted...hmm. I hereby appoint the banana an honorary Green column food. I have to, otherwise there's not much chance of this thing lasting.

My so-called life

I'm a disgrace. For the first time in my life I bought not one, but two tabloid magazines (at the same time) just because they blared my two favourite words on the cover: Chantelle & Preston.

Live the dream. No pressure.

12 steps to serenity

I have spent every night of the past 3 weeks watching Celebrity Big Brother (fondly known as CBB).

It's Saturday night, the first night since CBB came to a glorious end, and I feel...bereft. I've had to go cold turkey, and let me tell you, it's not pretty. Gone are the shrieks of disbelief as Pete lays into Traci. Gone are the moments deciphering what Dennis is saying. And, gone are the butterflies while we wait for Chantelle and Preston to fall in love.

I need a fix! Give it to me! I'm off to scour the news site for more more more.

Baby, I don't care

This week I've felt a bit like Wendy James. Things have appeared very black and white to me. Usually I mess around with the shades of grey and consider things from everyone's angle. Sometimes this results in a non-conclusion, but ultimately everyone is appeased. Maybe I just don't care anymore? Is this the end of my civility?

In the stars?

I've always been happy to entertain all things astrological. Numerology, birth charts, Kabalarian philosophy, horoscopes...

I've never had a reading, or had a chart prepared for me, but from time to time I try out the free ones online to pass the time. You provide your full name (as on your birth certificate, apparently that is super important), your birth date and time, and et voila, your chart appears, albeit a brief one. $14.95 for a full report of 8-10 pages in layman's language. (Hippies have to earn a living too.)

The best one I've seen is, wait for it, 0800-Horoscope.com

Apparently it's going to be a good year for me. That's what I like to hear.

In favour of podiquette

Now that I have one, I feel quite justified in expressing my annoyance at other commuters iPod abuses.

Definition: podiquette noun: 1. unwritten code of acceptable behaviours when using an MP3 device, such as an iPod.

You, yes you, in the pristine unscuffed, unmarked baby-poo-coloured Caterpillar boots, you know who you are. You tapped loudly with both feet with no discernible rhythm (a generous description) all the way along the District line. You looked around you and mouthed obviously to the words, although you only knew a few of them. You jiggled your knees, stood up, walked around, sat down again, all the while trying to get someone to catch your eye. Make it stop.

Unassembled

It's almost time to go back to work and I desperately need to start reassembling my reality. These past weeks I have allowed myself to forget that my reality is a job, responsibility and paying the bills. For me, time off can be dangerous: I begin to think that things can be different. Monday morning comes, and I have to accept that things are not different.

I've not made any resolutions, only wishes. I wish it were easier. Easier to be good; to give my time freely; to put my dreams first; to not so thoroughly enjoy the material world; to have the courage to make a difference in some way, and to take the time to pursue what I love doing instead of getting up and going to work everyday because it means a pay cheque.

I found the best cushion in a little shop in Scotland. It caught my eye more than once, so I bought it. It says: "Snowmen fall from heaven unassembled". Well, it's not only snowmen is it? I think that's why I took it home with me – kindred spirits, me and that little snowman. Ha ha ha.

Happy New Year.

Nostalgia

Spending time with my music collection has taken me back to times past, evoking a curious mixture of emotion.

Today was the first snow of winter. This photo taken from my kitchen window.

Pod person

I'm one of them. After being infinitely proud of not having an iPod - my trusty Sony Discman providing me with the only musical pleasure I thought I needed - it's happened. He Who Plays Warcraft, in the guise of Santa, presented me with an iPod for Christmas. An impossibly small black nano. I'm a convert, I can't wait to make it my own. Merry Christmas.

Irreconcilable differences

Gay marriages, or Civil Partnerships, became legal in England today, and subsequently, Elton John got married.

It got me thinking about divorce rates and I wondered if homosexual divorce rates would increase as rapidly as heterosexual divorce rates. Civil Partnerships are ended by dissolution orders, not divorce, but the result is the same: the end of a legal relationship.

As is my wont, I did a little bit of research on how easy it is to get a quickie divorce. Pretty easy, it seems. For £25.99 you can get a DIY Divorce. For those who are status conscious, the services are available in Platinum, Gold, Silver and Bronze. Why should you use their services? Why, because they've handled 30,000 divorces since 2000. Interested? You can download a Divorce Demo. I kid you not.

Adultery, unreasonable behaviour, desertion - these are a few of the "grounds" you can choose from. I have my very own reason which I cannot seem to find on any of the websites: World Of Warcraft.

Hmm, I might think about petitioning.

Ring-a-Ding Ding

I went to the Savoy Theatre to see The Rat Pack the other night. I know you're thinking they're dead, aren't they? and you're right. Whoever played the parts of Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jnr. did so very well.

Now, I love the theatre, but I prefer a proper musical - like with a storyline. People standing around singing is not usually my thing, but I stuck it out. (One of our party actually said "this is not my thing" and left halfway).

It was surprisingly good. The dialogue was excellent, transcripted from actual shows in Las Vegas. The singing was good too. Unexpectedly, I knew all of the songs.