When a super couple like Seal and Heidi Klum can't make it after seven years of marriage. What possible hope do the rest of us have in the real world? After all this was a seemingly "perfect" couple on the outside who seemed to have so much fun together and renewed their wedding vows every year. They seemed so in-sync with each other, with love oozing from their pores. They had it all, beauty, talent, multiple homes, an abundance of wealth, jet setting around the world with their celebrity friends and they shared a whole bunch of children. So if this couple is ending things, what chance do us mere mortals have at a really fulfilling relationship on planet earth?
It got me thinking of my own relationship with The Complicator, after being together for more than a decade, are we really together in the real sense of the word? He has his own house and I have my own place. We have separate lives and come together when we need to or rather when we want to. It got me thinking about what we really share. We don't share real estate, children or stuff, so do experiences and memories count? The reason I dubbed him The Complicator for my blogs is that he simply complicates things without realizing it or does he do this deliberately to keep me stranded in time, or stuck in a loop? Some would say that this is the ideal relationship for the 21st century, we have an advantage with our non fat relationship without the usual day to day drudgery that tends to bring some couples down after a long time. We have funny moments together and can act like silly kids when we're alone. Of course this is contrasted by my moody moments and The Complicator's short fuse. Our individual homes protect us from each other when we get on each other's nerves and serves as a safe haven when we need to be alone to recharge. This is my reality, it's far from perfect, maybe even flawed depending on the opinion but we're still together - separate but together.
My friend Jenny and her partner George have been together for over fifteen years, (she met him when she was very young). When you see them together, they seem completely different from one another. It has nothing to with their cultural backgrounds, Jenny is of Chinese descent and George is eastern European. Jenny has a lot of testosterone and is the opposite of feminine. She loves to dress in jeans, T-shirts, biker boots, (all the time) and doesn't believe in styling her hair and wearing make up. Jenny can be loud and abrasive at times and is a lot of fun to be around. She is fascinated with me and Thalia (we're all friends), she calls us "girly girls". George is quiet, serious and strong. He tends to get into long winded conversations with anyone who will listen. I've never seem him laugh at any jokes and he always looks slightly puzzled or slightly amused by the rest of us while secretly judging us. But for some reason these two stick it out together. They are clearly opposites and Jenny gets annoyed by George a lot, but there is love beneath the surface.
My friend Shabana and her husband Lou are not only odd people individually, but are even more peculiar as a couple. They rarely venture out together with other couples and tend to spend a lot of time together when Lou is in town (he travels a lot). I've known Shabana for a really long time and over the years, she's gone from cool to just fool, she's a self proclaimed nerd. I don't have much to say about her husband Lou as I've seen him a total of five times since they've been married (including their wedding). When I have seen Lou at their house, he gives off a possessive, controlling vibe, with a side order of repressed anger. Together they're just a weird couple who appear to live very different lives under the guise of marriage. Neither one really gets what the other one is about (or doesn't care). When Shabana isn't hiding under a rock, she ventures out sans Lou (when he's out of town). Being around them is extremely uncomfortable as their conversations are laced with sharp barbs at one another. Some how this strange couple are still together and I'm not sure about love but there is like between the two.
Thalia and her husband Jared...actually if I analyze their marriage in print Thalia will kill me... Love comes in all forms and shapes, it's not perfect like it's made out to be by magazines about celebrities or famous people. No-one really knows what goes on behind closed doors. Love doesn't always meet our expectations and can often be filled with disappointment. However, every time I hear one of my favourite singers Jose James croon effortlessly in the sublimely romantic song Love (like right now), it fills my heart with hope and what else L.O.V.E. :)
Moody Girl Out.
Tuesday, 31 January 2012
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
The Flu Fighters
Well January started off with a bang in terms of renewed hope, energy and optimism for the upcoming year. Then out of the blue, the cold/flu took everyone in my path down including me. Yeah, the flu shot, supplements, lots of sleep and a healthy diet didn't help. Even my one workout of the month didn't prevent me from getting sick. I was feeling unusually upbeat for the month of January, that even the dull, grey skies and the frigid temperatures couldn't hinder my spirit. Well that was short lived...
A couple of weeks ago after feeling great at the end of the week, I woke up one Saturday morning with a tickle in my throat, I did everything I could to stop this from becoming more than a tickle, but deep down I knew it was going to take me down eventually. Later that evening I had dinner plans to celebrate my best gal pal Lily's birthday and had been looking forward to it all week. We both dressed up and had a fantastic dinner at Sambuca (my other favourite restaurant). For a few hours, I was able to trick my brain into believing that the tickle in my throat wasn't there.
By Monday I was down, I had all the artillery needed to combat this virus, chicken soup, kleenex, pajamas, my fluffy robe, water, flat ginger ale and Ibuprofen. I was thinking so much for my dynamic January plans. I had to cancel all my plans for later in the week, dinner with my friend Isabella - turns out she was sick and so were her kids. Had to cancel with my friend Mariya - she was sick too. My sister Thalia and her husband Jared were sick and were both working from home. So not only were they fighting a virus but eventually with each other over trivial things, Thalia felt compelled to text me a play by play:
Text message 1 - "So sick, weak and tired, but am working on the computer".
Text message 2 - "Coughing and sneezing for hours, need bread, so sick but have so much work to do".
Text message 3 - "Jared left all the mugs on the coffee table and made a mess in the kitchen :( ".
Text message 4 - "So tired, don't have the energy to make tea, but have so much work to do. You'd think just once Jared would baby me a bit, need TLC".
These types of texts continued for about a week, my text response was the same every time, "Aww too bad honey, hope you feel better soon. I'm sick too, look and feel like hell."
During the middle of the week, The Complicator brought me some cold medicine at my request that came complete with an unsolicited pep talk at the most inopportune time about how I was being a "little puppy" and that I was actually fine. The Complicator said, "Why are your eyes red?" I replied, "Er, because I'm sick, hence the request for the cold meds". I was then told to toughen up. He then started nattering about how I should wear a plastic garbage bag and start running on the treadmill. I may have been on drugs but he was clearly delusional. Some how he seemed to magically ignore the sneezing, the coughing and me sprawled out on the couch in a drug induced coma. No TLC, just tough love is what I got, I couldn't wait for him to leave so that I could rest without the extra chatter.
My mum was calling me every hour on the hour to make sure I wasn't dead, which was comforting and annoying at the same time. When I would reluctantly answer the phone, I could hear my dad yelling in the background, "Why didn't she get the flu shot, I told her to get the flu shot". I softly whispered, "Mum, can you tell Dad I did get the flu shot".
Just as I got my mum off the phone (again), I mistakenly answered the phone thinking it was my mum calling back and it turned out to be my friend Professor Langley Tate (who has a nauseatingly soft spot for me). I had been avoiding his calls for a few weeks, and was texting him knowing full well he doesn't know how to text. Professor Langley Tate and I used to work together eons ago (before he was a professor) and have been friends ever since. He seems to be fascinated with everything I do, say, write, read and I'm the portal for his otherwise safe existence. I can make him laugh easily about anything and everything, sometimes even cheekily poking fun at his "academic comments" which he is clearly oblivious to. He is a nice person, but sometimes gets on my nerves.
This was a bit of our conversation:
Professor Langley Tate: "What's been going on, tell me everything".
Me: "Well, as you can probably tell I'm sick, (cough, cough, sneeze, sneeze, cough)".
Professor Langley Tate: "Well you just need a dose of Dr. Tate's chicken soup. I'll just have to stop by with some".
Me: "No thanks, I already made some and The Complicator has been checking in on me".
Professor Langley Tate: "Wow, you make your own chicken soup too? I would love to try your chicken soup sometime".
Me (Perturbed): "I don't crave chicken soup on a regular basis Langley, I only make it for myself when I'm sick, the only other person I make chicken soup for is Thalia".
Professor Langley Tate: "I was really hoping to see you over the holidays".
Me (Annoyed): "Langley, I barely had time to come up for air with all the family get togethers, I'll see you in the spring, I have to catch up with some of my other friends first".
When I finally got Professor Langley Tate off the phone, I put my phone on silent, took my cold medicine, applied Vicks on my throat and chest (that's the best), used my menthol inhaler, took my Ibuprofen and tried to rest. I figured answering the phone was just counter productive to my recovery.
After a few days, once I was back to mycheerful moody self, I decided to weigh myself. If anything had come out of this awful week, it had to be weight loss right? Wrong! Apparently, I was a few pounds up. Drats! Perhaps a little too much bread with my chicken soup!
Moody Girl Out.
A couple of weeks ago after feeling great at the end of the week, I woke up one Saturday morning with a tickle in my throat, I did everything I could to stop this from becoming more than a tickle, but deep down I knew it was going to take me down eventually. Later that evening I had dinner plans to celebrate my best gal pal Lily's birthday and had been looking forward to it all week. We both dressed up and had a fantastic dinner at Sambuca (my other favourite restaurant). For a few hours, I was able to trick my brain into believing that the tickle in my throat wasn't there.
By Monday I was down, I had all the artillery needed to combat this virus, chicken soup, kleenex, pajamas, my fluffy robe, water, flat ginger ale and Ibuprofen. I was thinking so much for my dynamic January plans. I had to cancel all my plans for later in the week, dinner with my friend Isabella - turns out she was sick and so were her kids. Had to cancel with my friend Mariya - she was sick too. My sister Thalia and her husband Jared were sick and were both working from home. So not only were they fighting a virus but eventually with each other over trivial things, Thalia felt compelled to text me a play by play:
Text message 1 - "So sick, weak and tired, but am working on the computer".
Text message 2 - "Coughing and sneezing for hours, need bread, so sick but have so much work to do".
Text message 3 - "Jared left all the mugs on the coffee table and made a mess in the kitchen :( ".
Text message 4 - "So tired, don't have the energy to make tea, but have so much work to do. You'd think just once Jared would baby me a bit, need TLC".
These types of texts continued for about a week, my text response was the same every time, "Aww too bad honey, hope you feel better soon. I'm sick too, look and feel like hell."
During the middle of the week, The Complicator brought me some cold medicine at my request that came complete with an unsolicited pep talk at the most inopportune time about how I was being a "little puppy" and that I was actually fine. The Complicator said, "Why are your eyes red?" I replied, "Er, because I'm sick, hence the request for the cold meds". I was then told to toughen up. He then started nattering about how I should wear a plastic garbage bag and start running on the treadmill. I may have been on drugs but he was clearly delusional. Some how he seemed to magically ignore the sneezing, the coughing and me sprawled out on the couch in a drug induced coma. No TLC, just tough love is what I got, I couldn't wait for him to leave so that I could rest without the extra chatter.
My mum was calling me every hour on the hour to make sure I wasn't dead, which was comforting and annoying at the same time. When I would reluctantly answer the phone, I could hear my dad yelling in the background, "Why didn't she get the flu shot, I told her to get the flu shot". I softly whispered, "Mum, can you tell Dad I did get the flu shot".
Just as I got my mum off the phone (again), I mistakenly answered the phone thinking it was my mum calling back and it turned out to be my friend Professor Langley Tate (who has a nauseatingly soft spot for me). I had been avoiding his calls for a few weeks, and was texting him knowing full well he doesn't know how to text. Professor Langley Tate and I used to work together eons ago (before he was a professor) and have been friends ever since. He seems to be fascinated with everything I do, say, write, read and I'm the portal for his otherwise safe existence. I can make him laugh easily about anything and everything, sometimes even cheekily poking fun at his "academic comments" which he is clearly oblivious to. He is a nice person, but sometimes gets on my nerves.
This was a bit of our conversation:
Professor Langley Tate: "What's been going on, tell me everything".
Me: "Well, as you can probably tell I'm sick, (cough, cough, sneeze, sneeze, cough)".
Professor Langley Tate: "Well you just need a dose of Dr. Tate's chicken soup. I'll just have to stop by with some".
Me: "No thanks, I already made some and The Complicator has been checking in on me".
Professor Langley Tate: "Wow, you make your own chicken soup too? I would love to try your chicken soup sometime".
Me (Perturbed): "I don't crave chicken soup on a regular basis Langley, I only make it for myself when I'm sick, the only other person I make chicken soup for is Thalia".
Professor Langley Tate: "I was really hoping to see you over the holidays".
Me (Annoyed): "Langley, I barely had time to come up for air with all the family get togethers, I'll see you in the spring, I have to catch up with some of my other friends first".
When I finally got Professor Langley Tate off the phone, I put my phone on silent, took my cold medicine, applied Vicks on my throat and chest (that's the best), used my menthol inhaler, took my Ibuprofen and tried to rest. I figured answering the phone was just counter productive to my recovery.
After a few days, once I was back to my
Moody Girl Out.
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