Commitment + Discipline I

I think I can’t take it anymore. The booze binge weekends, nursing hangovers, the chips, the lack of exercise or 5 fruits and vegetable intakes, lack of bowel movement and I could go into Proustian detail about a whole list of mortal sins and why I am doomed to eternal damnation oh and did I mention that I am munching on a pack of reduced fat Marks and Spencer Salt + Vinegar Crisps while writing this.

In short, I have been feeling out of control. This could be the result of a perpetual hangover even though I swear the urge to annihilate every peanut snickers bar in the whole of London is very very real.

Today, after last night’s disaster which entailed frantic phone calls and slurred speeches to a few people I had no intention to call or who would not want to talk to me again after last night, the crisps aside, I am trying to take control again of every aspect of my life. Little steps at a time.

Commitment and Discipline.

These are big words for me even though I am not a guy. And as much as I have reluctantly tackled them all my life, I am beginning to realize that it is in fact the potential driving force in every aspect of my life if I could just get a grip on them.

Flat mate HL was relating how she was talking to a colleague E about how expensive gyms are and E’s straight forward reply was simply, all you need is a bit of discipline, not a gym membership. Why does it sounds so simple?

On a better note, I did manage to do some reading this week. Flying through pages of Milan Kundera’s Identity at lunch time when there is some sun outside the office with my sandwich and lemon tea even though I know I should stop reading depressive immoral literature as well..…


(Big Sis if you are reading this and squeal on me, there will be bloodshed…)

On Player_’ The Girl’s Insane’ by Thievery Corporation

Starting Over

Starting all over again. Including this blog-like-journal thingy, for those of you who have been following via email. I have decided to stop counting or including the days which I have been in London at the top of my entries. On hind sight, the counting serves no purpose. What am I actually counting for? The number of days I have been in London? The number of days before I leave London? A day count or a countdown? And a count down to what? Life is no where linear anyway.

I felt the great urge to write an entry again after a long lull because I felt a need to clear my head and since my suspected dyslexia has been acting up and I am speaking less(more of less) then before I should take time away from everything to at least start writing again to clear the mess in my head, eventhough I am constantly fighting with time; time to read, time to myself, time at work, time to play, time to do housework, time to sleep.

Time. I feel like I have been trying to catch hold of it. On Sunday morning, as I was jogging in the park, I noticed the first signs of autumn littered on the ground. Dry orange leaves speckled everywhere. When I got to the river, I didn’t have to do the avoid-green globs of duck s#$% like landmines wild dance-jog because strangely there were very few ducks. Where have the ducks gone? They must have felt the passing of time too and the need to find warmer regions for a continued summer vacation. Because of the shorter hours of daylight and my new longer working hours, I have been unable to keep up with jogging. I literally cannot catch the light in the evening to jog and this urgency strikes me every evening when the sun begins to set and I am still at work. The sun is setting at 8.40pm where it use to set at 10.30pm. As I have had to work a lot longer and harder with the new office, it is usually 8.20pm on better days when I get thought the front door. 2 minutes to change, 2 minutes to get to the park and 6 minutes to run somehow doesn’t figure and did I mention the parks are now closing between 8.00 - 8.30pm. Worse off, amidst the new hectic schedule, I am still managing to put on weight. Where did that come from? Less exercise, too much cheese and chips or just slower metabolic rate coinciding with the impending big three-zero?

On Player_‘Blame’ by Everything But The Girl