There’s something about perfumes…

…that makes them excruciatingly hypnotic–and I don’t necessarily mean in an olfactory manner. It’s like possessing little, tightly seals bottles of expensive elixir that can create happiness, cure illnesses and eradicate world hunger.

Okay, I got carried away a bit.

If it isn’t obvious already, lately I’ve been battling a perfume obsession. I don’t know what it is about those darned little bottles that makes them so irresistible. Viewing countless collection videos and sifting through various perfume blogs makes me believe I’m not the only one. A tiny, cleverly crafted glass bottle with sparkling amber liquid and the metallic glint of a trustworthy brand name subtly engraved on the surface has the ability to turn women (and men) into Golum, cradling their new find crooning ‘My…Preciousss….’

*cringing at the lameness.

Anyways. I just needed to vent.

Toodles.

 

 

 

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Procrastination revisited

Ironic it is that I open this blog and the last post I wrote was on procrastination–3 years ago. HA!

Since then I’ve obtained a degree and moved a country. Life should have changed, except…it hasn’t?

I feel like the same idiotic person.

I feel like the same person I was TEN years ago. Is this why people say time flies? Is this why adults harp, complete with tortured youthful groans forming a background to their deaf preaching, that they did things a certain way WHEN THEY WERE YOUNGER? Because the memory is oh, so tortorously fresh? I can SO see myself preaching to someone ten years younger and then having a startling, sickening realization that I was turning into one of THEM.

Here I am talking about adults as if they’re a separate entity when I am, most certainly, an adult. UGH.

And where have I moved, one must ask?

Saudi Arabia. Muahahahahaha!

Life is certainly…interesting. I might even be inspired to post something. And yes, I am a young female currently living in Saudi Arabia. Inspiration to rant–uh, post, isn’t in short supply.

Toodles.

(Am I too lamely dated for saying that?)

Deadlines and Procrastination

What is it about deadlines, anyways? You have something looming ahead of you that requires at least 50% of your concentration, and suddenly everything else in the world aside from that becomes a hundred times more interesting. You know what I’m talking about! Only robots never procrastinate.

I, however, have perfected it to an art form. Whenever I have something important to do (which for me usually involved preparing for some exam–which, boring), things that I had been putting off for years suddenly become amazingly, irresistibly interesting, like shining beacons tempting me to the dark side. Novels that I felt would be too meh to bother with suddenly seem fascinating and alluring, series that never perturbed me suddenly become essential to my day to day routine. My brain becomes active with theorizing and analyzing characters, guessing storyline, posting reviews, READING reviews…I have to say, some of my best creative work: done before exams.

I remember huddling in blankets two hours before my O levels exams, waiting to be driven to school to appear in examinations, typing furiously a scene that popped in my head and seemed to just drive me to write it down on paper (That was my writing phase). The adrenaline rush would be giddying, even as the clock ticked away. Watching Avatar the Last Airbender, learning how to paint, playing on a keyboard on my cellphone, pondering on human existence, even reading Twilight (!) all was extremely good fun RIGHT WHEN I WASN’T MEANT TO DO THEM.

Is it the lure of forbidden fruit? I’m certain that must be the biggest reason. As humans we enjoy bending convention, even in our own small way. Perhaps it’s the fact that your mind is so engaged during critical times that everything seems heightened, more potent, more meaningful somehow. Perhaps I just lack self control (boy do I lack self control). Perhaps I missed my calling and its my brains way of coping.

Whatever it is I do know one thing: if I really, REALLY want to enjoy something? Wait until the next exams roll around. It’s going to be a fun ride!

An introvert’s struggle

Steeped in quiet frustration, smothered by an internal wall withholding her from the rest of the world, she struggles every day, the ability to connect elusive. Ramming against it repeatedly, she finally shakes a brick lose. A rare smile flows past her lips, eyes engaging tentatively. A hard won victory.

For The Daily Post, 50 word challenge.

My monochromatic confession

I have a confession to make…despite being a girl, I’m not very good at identifying colours. That sounds sexist, I’m sure, but I once watched an episode of Brain Games that claimed that women have a greater capacity for identifying different shades of the same colour than men. Well, I’m not one of those women.

Not only am I limited to the twelve colour spectrum in identifying colours, sometimes I’m in blissful ignorance as to what the colours around me actually are. I once had a shirt which I thought was a dull shade of greenish black, only to be told by my friend who had seen me in it several times that it was actually purple. Now I know what purple and green look like so you can imagine my surprise, but once I concentrated on the shirt in baffled silence, I realized she was right. It HAD been a weird shade of purple. That was a day of revelations!! (And no, I’m not colourblind)

I’ve been corrected several times by my friends that what I’m looking at a shade of violet, not blue/purple, or  beige, not pink, and so on. I can never recall the names of the more complicated colours. Why can’t we just refer to the different shades of blue as light or dark blue, or even purplish blue? I suppose that will be my eternal confusion. And matching different colours and figuring out what works with what–nightmare. So I feel the most comfortable in monochromes, which I can mix and match and be assured I don’t look like a mash up of different warring colours. 🙂

Mosquito Stew

While I was lying in bed battling with an army of mosquitoes cursing the heat of the tropical summer, it struck me–as strange thoughts do when one is in the state between sleep and wakefulness–that with the amount of mosquitoes and other variety of insects found in nations plagued with malnutrition–like my own–if the people were to convert to a diet of insects and bugs, won’t their dietary needs be fabulously fulfilled? Bugs are proteins, after all.