The sound of you sleeping

Tonight in the park: Hordes of Chinese people (especially children) with (mostly) paper lanterns, and three Indian guys plays cricket without the benefit of wickets.

And an overweight middle-aged woman who tsked in annoyance at me when my dog ventured within 5 inches of her for a sniff: "Tsk! Why your dog liddat one?"

I heard her, even with headphones on, and I almost wanted to demand of her slighter husband (who was trailing three steps behind her), "Tsk! Why your pig liddat one?"

No, dearie - fight with a pig at her level and you'll both get dirty - and she'll enjoy it - so be good.

The sound of you sleeping

Exhausted. Something somewhere hurts ... again. But we were taught 2 other variations of the spiral and also two variations of an invert, the star.

Good practice.

I've got some patches of broken veins (I think) on my cheek bones, it seems. I can't imagine how I got them (they appeared after pole prac).

The sound of you sleeping

I don't want a pillow I want your moving breathing flesh. I want you to hold my hand in the dark, I want to roll on to you and push myself into you. When I turn in the night the bed is continent-broad. There is endless white space where you won't be. I travel it inch by inch but you're not there. It's not a game, you're not going to leap out and surprise me. The bed is empty. I'm in it but the bed is empty.



Winterson, Jeanette. Written on the Body. London: Vintage, 1993.

The sound of you sleeping

The first of what (I fear) would be a series of stumbles and obstacles: My doc has taken over a week to complete my medical report ("It's not urgent, right?"), and when I went to collect it today, I was told he'd forgotten a blood test; which meant I needed to give more blood (the doc-on-duty used a different vein and had problems drawing enough blood, which meant I'd get a bruise from the needle); which meant another wait for another test result.

I can only grit my teeth and soldier on ... I have to.

Tonight'll be awesome - I've just taken 2 different types of pills that are drowsiness-inducing - but tomorrow will be really fucked.

The sound of you sleeping

Re-started on Written on the Body, and made the fastest and farthest progress I have in all the time I was reading it. Call me biased, but, so far, it's been nothing but wondrous and beautiful.

Was tempted today in Borders by the books of poetry by Charles Bukowski, but I didn't buy any. I don't like buying books without having read them; I want to be sure I like a book (or that it's good) before purchasing a copy for myself.

There are no guarantees in life, but if it could be helped, I always like to buy myself a little certainty.

The sound of you mumbling =)

It's such a treat when you watch a truly gifted dancer perform before your eyes, even without costumes or whatever - showmanship transcends the need for those frills.

So Linna showed us the choreo for the second module and I was in awe, because seriously, I've never seen a better dancer live.

So it was really a treat ...

And, I think I might retire my dance shoes tonight.

Sigh.

=(

The sound of you sleeping

Good news: It's muscular after all.

Even better news: I only need to take about 5 days off to rest it.

Best news: I get Norgesic to relax the muscles - which might also put me to sleep! (Woot!)

My doc's a funny guy sometimes. Asked I, "So I only need to take 5 days off, right?"

Doc: "Yes; don't over-exert the muscles."

"5 days from now?"

Doc: "5 days from when you want to stop hurting."

=/

The sound of you sleeping

I bought medicated plasters (a pack of 3) before dinner yesterday and I've been using them ... to no avail. Scarily, I think that might mean my injury is not in fact muscular ... =(

Hopefully it feels better tomorrow.

Sigh.

The sound of you sleeping

Jen and I finally did dinner at Les Bouchons, and we walked past Toca Me a few times. She thought the crowd (on the outside) looked very young, so we didn't go in and ended up at Loof for drinkies.

My side hurts pretty bad now; not sure whether I'm hoping it is a pulled muscle (and not, say, cracked ribs) or not. I'm unwilling to stop pole for even 2 weeks for it to heal - and whatever it is, it sure as hell will take more than 2 weeks to go away.

=(

The sound of you sleeping

It occurred to me as I was showering just now that this unusually busy day for me reminded me of the crazy EoQ's I used to have with my previous companies, tallying and compiling and what-not - and I kinda missed them.

Was so busy today I didn't have the chance to communicate with anybody about anything other than work.

Even the boss - I prolly spoke less than 5 words to him today. He asked his usual, "Are you okay?" and then proceeded to tell me he was feeling better (I didn't ask - I never do), etc.

I won't see him for most of next week; I think I might miss him ... just a little.

Crash day. Stomach is back to feeling weird. The older I get, the more fucked up my insides are ... never mind the outside.

My colleague (for the second time in as many days) alluded to something the CNHK MD said about me - to other people. I'm curious and wary. Ol' boys, fish wives - bah.

The boss called in sick today, ending off with, "... don't worry - I'll survive." Had to ask him to repeat that last part because I wasn't sure I'd heard right. Does he want me to show more care and concern than my usual indifference?

The sound of you sleeping

Was impeded at pole prac by terrible cramps in my lower body (butt, legs, feet, and toes). Two girls have told me to eat bananas and I shall have that fruit for lunch tomorrow.

Still couldn't manage birdnest even though I had a spotter. I have to start visualizing doing it, plus a shoulder-mount to chopper combo.

Also, finished with intermediate 3 today; no news on when there'll be an advance class I can sign up for. Guess this is as far as I can go in salsa for now ...

Def Leppard - 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'

Album: Hysteria



Have been obsessed lately with the database I work on. It's written in-house and still evolving, so it's very buggy.

I sit at my workstation up to 5 hours at stretch (yes, I do worry about DVT) working with the database, the reports it generates daily, GIMP, Excel, Powerpoint, and my email, earphones plugged in. Today, I decided I'd like to see the records for the offices I'm responsible for rid of errors before I go.

Never let it be said that when I'm obsessive, I'm not compulsively so.

Like how I've been listening to this song on repeat, 3 days and counting ...

The sound of you sleeping

It's been a terrible Monday: Screwed up the boss's flight out of SIN today; it was only through his infallible good luck with all things concerning travel that I managed to get him not only in the class he wants, but also his preferred seat.

In his harangue, he cited, once again, The Devil Wears Prada, which, to him illustrates the epitome of what P.A. should be, but which is a caveat against selling out and losing oneself to me.

It's obvious I'm really not cut out to be a P.A.; prolly will tender when he returns from Milan next month.

Doc drew 10 cc today, remarking I have "good veins ... unlike other girls", but that my blood is so bad "[a] vampire won't want it". =|