feeling of loss

Not a good weekend. Losing a relative is never easy, especially someone who's always tried to help me along my career path. Vaya con dios, Uncle.

I think whenever there's a passing, I tend to feel most sorry for the ones left behind. In my naive mind, the dearly departed are headed for a place way better than this hellhole. Guess we all have to believe that is the case, or there's really nothing to live for then, is there?

On another note, got the second tatt touched up, looks awesome. Maybe I exaggerate, but I really like it. And when the first one finally heals, a bit of background and I'm done. Really.

I predict a really hectic week in the making, on a personal and emotional level.

And I'm going to quite two vices, before the year draws to a close. The stats don't look good.

desperately seeking Mr O. Self

Gasp, nearly three weeks since my last post.

Totally unacceptable. Yet, I can't say I've had an overwhelming inclination to write something. Not so much a writer's block as well. Uninspired would be a tad more accurate. Have just been unable to get myself onto Blogspot and spurt out a few words.

So-so; that's how I'd describe things currently. Things inside me, things around me, things. Go with the flow, and such inane, corny cliches. After all, what's new, pussycat? Eh?

Still unsure where I'm heading with all this, or where I want to head. I'm just strolling along, checking out the rare fancies that catch my eye. Nothing substantial in that. But it's helping me move on, so that can't be that bad.

Unfortunately, I really can't find the old me. I think it's dead and gone. Okay, I had to slip that in. But in all seriousness (if one can even be serious about such things), I've 'misplaced' my comfy old persona. More like I killed it, and I'm now regretting it. It's funny how you try so hard to suppress something, only to realise how much you actually need it, and then find that it's gone. Out of the park, far far away. Yeah, something like that.

But never one to pine for what's done and dusted (yeah, right), I'm carrying on with this new, not-so-nice me. As long as I get through the days not contemplating what ifs and permutations in my thick skull, I'm happy.

Though I get this sneaky feeling, not for long. Being happy, that is.

sobriety sucks

I'm gonna stop drinking for a while, indefinitely. Does that make bloody sense?

Back to the programme. Yeah, I know I've declared that many times over, the most recent being sometime in April or May. This time, though, it's gotta stick.

Gotta sort out some things, and I need to be fully sober to do so. Besides, there's only so much abuse my body can take, and it's time to give it a rest. Take it down a notch, and ease around. Something like that.

Can't wait to burn off the calories next week. Think perhaps I used the geisha a bit too much as an excuse not to workout. Well, no excuses next week, I promise.

Okay, gotta run now. Perhaps I'd better walk instead.

lost

"Where do we go, where do we go now..."

Good question, can't think of a good answer.

But less time spent contemplating the answer is definitely a good thing.

Drink, drink, drink and be ill tonight, remember? And tomorrow night and the night after that, and after that and after that and ...

Watched Angels & Demons over the weekend; it's definitely better than The Da Vinci Code. As is the protagonist's hairdo.

Rome is truly a remarkable city, if you haven't already noticed already. Simply amazing. That's one place that's a given on my bucket list. And maybe watch a Roman derby. Who knows eh?