I like languages; I find them fascinating. To me, anyone who can speak more than one fluently is a genius. I can't quite grasp how on earth people learn to speak 7 or 8! That's both insanity and unbelievable talent. You won't find me being able to do that ever...
Alright lovely people, which of you has ever tried an Escape Room? Now, I am not talking about when you're a kid and your pesky brother slyly locks you in a room because you "accidentally" stepped on his Lego masterpiece and broke what took an hour to build, and you then have to get creative about getting out of said locked room which happens to be on the second floor with a tiny, tricky window. That's another story altogether... I am talking about paying to be locked up in rooms with your friends by strangers. WAIT, that came out wrong, I don't mean anything too sketchy like that. But I suppose it kind of is like that. Except inside it's a trap - for logic, frustration and potentially, friendships.
I contemplated turning this post into a little whinge about public transport, and my last week failing to get to work on time from miscalculating how awful the bus is, especially when rail strikes occur... BUT I thought better. Who wants to read that crap anyway? Instead, I want to share a little, kinda embarrassing, anecdote about what happened to me during this week of atrocious bus catching.
It's been on my list in life to try a Pilates Class ever since I read that half the celebrities I admire do it... No, I am obviously joking. All the celebrities I admire do it. But seriously, I had heard some great things about Pilates and how it's a low impact, great core workout. I tend to have wibbly-wobbly knees that sometimes decides to give out to me if I move them in a certain way. I love Yoga but that runners stretch can often cause some serious discomfort. Lucky for me, I found out that my work organise subsidised Pilates classes at a nearby community centre, about a 10 minute walk from the office. If this wasn't a sign to ditch the Monday blues + sneaky glass of wine, then I don't know what else would be it...
Chapter 8 means I am 8 weeks down and still going strong. When I say strong, I mean I am actually doing it. Not sitting on my couch, glued to the TV, contemplating what valid excuse I could possibly use to get out of pushing myself that week. While the writing of these posts are a little behind (hello from the future of Week 13), I am religiously sticking to accomplishing something new each week. And yes, I am just as surprised as you are!
I begin my Wedding Bonanza Part 2 post with the acknowledgement that I don't know how to begin this post. Much like the project I took on, knowing where to start was a bit of minefield. Hopefully a cohesive post will rise from the dust...
A little while ago, I volunteered to help out with a wedding (the cousin of my fella). I wasn't entirely sure what I was signing up for but hey, it has resulted in two stellar opportunities for new things to try out. So here lies my Wedding Bonanza Part 1 chapter - the forgotten (well actually no, tons of people, especially in Japanese cultures, practice this) and delicate art of folding paper. You can just imagine it. The year is 1603 in Japan. A young lad has way too much time on his hands and there is a stack of unused paper just lying there in front of him. Instead of ripping it up in a fierce show of his masculine prowess, he decides to fold it up as small as he can. He makes a small square. And so origami was born!
I have no time for cooking. It is the very last thing that I want to be doing when I get home from work. Making porridge these days is a struggle, that's how bad we are talking here. You might wonder how I have survived up until now - way too much microwave rice and pasta dishes in college, and people in my life who love me enough to make me food when I smile pleadingly at them. You know who you are.
It's OK to not know what you want. Let me just repeat that again for all you pessimists who scoffed with your 5, 10, 20 year plans underway. It is perfectly OK to admit to yourself that you don't know what it is you want in life. Be it career (most of us), interests (who actually knows what makes them tick) or relationships (does the ideal, dream partner actually exist?).
I don't like violence - never have, never will. If you came at me with a stick/knife/gun/baton/sword/magic wand, I would probably run the opposite direction. I try not to hurt flies. I err on the side of nice most of the time. I really do hate conflict. Seriously, it's just not for me.