Another Sunset

I've always been fascinated by the sky. When I was first given a camera to call my own, I would take photos of sunsets and cloud formations that I thought were pretty, for fear of never seeing something like that again. Of course, since the sky is ever changing, there were times when I would take fifteen photos in the space of five minutes, because that cloud moved slightly or the sky turned a shade pinker or there's a bird there now or a myriad of other reasons. And this was before the advent of digital cameras. I used a lot of film. I have a very large pile of cloud photographs in my drawer that are begging to be transformed into something brilliant but I've no idea what that could be yet.

I'm still cursed with this affliction. My symptoms are even worse now, as I have a digital camera these days, so there's no limit to how many photos I can take.

Slightly Lacklustre...

Didn't achieve very much today, unless you count discovering a bruise on my ankle whose origins are a complete mystery.

Visitor

When I first moved out of home, my new house had a large backyard with a shed. This backyard was a favourite haunt for many of the neighbourhood cats, a discovery I made soon after moving in which delighted me to no end. One cat in particular would lounge on the shed roof pretty much every day, as it was a prime position for soaking up the sun.



He was incredibly friendly, and rather talkative. I took to greeting him whenever I saw him. He was also very enthusiastic when it came to posing for photos.



That cat is one of the things I miss the most about that house.

Another attraction for the neighbourhood cats was the old couch that was in the backyard when I first moved in. Prolonged exposure to the elements turned that couch into something quite disgusting and liable to take on a life of its own, so it was eventually sent off to the dump. After that, our feline patronage declined and I suspect they were protesting the couch's removal.

Nostalgic

For the last two years I've been meaning to gather some things from my parents' house. Two days ago I finally got around to it.


This rainbow of 72 coloured pencils was one of my prized possessions as a kid. I assumed that I'd brought them with me when I left home, until last week, when it was suddenly essential for me to do some colouring and I discovered that they were nowhere to be found.


I miss having animals around. I'd love to have a pet dog, but the way my life is at the moment, that wouldn't be fair on the dog. I'd love to have a cat, but I'm allergic. A mouse is too small to cuddle. So last year I decided that getting a rabbit would be a brilliant idea (and, since then, my friends haven't heard the end of it). For lack of a real rabbit at the moment, I retrieved Monica, one of my favourite childhood toys.


I haven't touched my violin for over ten years. I've always loved it as an instrument, but unfortunately I resented the part where I had to practice and be assessed on my playing. I've been meaning to start playing again for a long time. Now that I actually have my violin, that should be easier to accomplish.

The interesting thing is, for quite a while I considered myself to have grown out of these things. So it wasn't supposed to matter that I'd left them behind. I haven't missed them, but now that I have them again, I feel a bit more like myself. They were such an integral part of my growing up. Their presence is comforting.

Bedroom Love.

I've realised that I adore my bedroom. It was love at first sight. It's not due to the built-in wardrobes, nor the pictures I have plastered all over the walls, nor the fact that it's so spacious, though these are definitely all factors.

It's due to the vast expanse of window which allows me a grand view of the sky and buildings in the distance. I can see rain roll in, clouds dance across the sky, the lights of the city twinkle in the distance, the colour stain of sunsets, birds sweep past (and they seem terribly fond of my roof)... That and the fact that I can see the backyard of the neighbours across the street, and they have a tendency to firetwirl in the middle of the night as I sit at my desk.




And that's not to mention the view of the sunset from the balcony...




Seriously. That's what I see from my balcony in the evening. Pretty happy about that.

Bad Luck.

Bizarrely, it always seems to happen this way. I find myself in a place where I seem to be buffeted by one displeasing situation after another, and I assure myself that things must be taking a turn for the better soon. Surely that’s enough now. And then something else bad happens. It gets to the point where I give in to it and start assuming a pessimistic attitude. Until, completely unexpectedly, everything suddenly works out. Usually all at once. I will have several strokes of luck in the one day, and circumstances that I was unable to imagine any solution for are not only solved, but improved beyond what I originally wanted.

Before I go on, let me clarify. I am being somewhat melodramatic. I am a melodramatic person. When I talk about having an extended run of bad luck, I’m talking about the frustrating sort of bad luck that hampers one’s comfortable existence. The sort of bad luck that, were it just one instance, wouldn’t be so bad, but weighs you down when you are accosted by it ten times in one week. The sort of bad luck that leaves you feeling defeated and wailing “Why isn’t anything going right?!” at a glass of wine. The sort of bad luck that could have been avoided by thinking ahead or approaching a situation differently (and is most likely, if you’re brutally honest with yourself, all your own goddamn fault). The sort of bad luck that you are able to laugh about a few weeks later. Not the sort of beyond-your-control bad luck that destroys you. I’m not about to make light of that.

So anyway. I was recently victim of this inconvenient-but-ultimately-bearable-in-small-doses kind of bad luck. Until today, apparently. And hopefully this upswing will continue, because I don’t enjoy being pessimistic. Being cranky prevented me from being distracted by the random quiet beauties of the world. I am renowned for being a frustrating companion for walking down the street, because I will occasionally meander to one side of the footpath or the other, depending on what catches my eye, then inexplicably disappear from your side because I stopped twenty metres ago, to stare intently at a leaf or a cat or the clouds. But when I feel tense, I focus inwards instead of outwards. I allow myself to get caught in the current of people striding to their destination with their heads down. Being stressed is not my natural state of being. Some people can work very well under stress. I am not one of them, which is actually slightly surprising, when you consider how much I procrastinate. You’d think I’d be better able to handle feeling under pressure by now, but in fact I’ve become quite adept at ignoring how stressed I should be and continuing to move in a leisurely manner. This largely explains why all of my essays, exams, projects etc from my time as a school/university student were either late or “not reaching her full potential”. I am a master of coasting by with little effort when I can’t be bothered.

But now! Now promise is back in the air and the world is once again full of wonder. You’ll find me outside, staring at the side wall of my house, intrigued by the tiny brown lizard clambering up towards the roof. I’ll be with you in a moment, but right now, the lizard is much more fascinating.

Dear oh dear..

That was a lot of words in those three posts. So here's a picture of a duck.

I do like ducks. Comical, friendly looking creatures. Always sound like they're laughing at a really good joke. That great, uninhibited, unflattering kind of laugh. Ducks are great.