Archive for January, 2012

On my way to dance class today, I told myself that I will be good at dance class today instead of my usual uncoordinated and distracted crap that I bring to dance class week after week in spite of the fact that I really should be quite good at this through effluxion of time, if anything at all.

After 2 hours, hey, what do you know, I was actually really good…well, better than on most days! I let my hair down, twirled in all the correct directions, frame my arms semi-competently and really enjoyed myself. The last time I had this much fun in dance class was in Egypt (being the place I went alone when I gave up on most of humanity and decided that I don’t really give a damn about most things)!! I returned to work after lunch greatly rejuvenated and ready to take on the world, much to the delight of my support staff and all around.

So I have come to the conclusion that to dance competently, I just need to pretend that I am dancing for my kids, who don’t really care how coordinated I am or how I frame my body with my hands or which direction I spin. They just care that I am out of my seat and on my feet and dancing, dancing, twirling, twirling with them all over the living room.

And then, it will all come naturally.


I’m a bit late this year due to all kinds of circumstances and events (namely all kinds of ailments and injuries(!) plus the fact that I am back on my crazy two-contested-hearings-a-week schedule), but Happy Happy Year of the Water Dragon from us:

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While leaving work today, a sampler vial of perfume I had in my makeup pouch spilled, resulting in wisps of a flowery scent wafting out of my handbag while I attempted to fish my security pass out.

I stood in the lift alone, looking over my shoulder, taking in the scent which was both familiar, yet alien at the same time, trying to seperate the different notes and trying to retrieve that stray memory it had surfaced in my mind.

And then I remembered: A large room with walls covered by shelves of bottles of different hues of amber, a small glass of mint leaves soaked in hot tea, smoke from a shisha, my uncomfortable perch on a woven chair.

This was the smell of that perfume shop from that magic day walking around the white hot sand of Saqqara.

The lift door opened. I stepped out, noticing for the first time my dance gear in a holdall dangling from the crook of my left arm from dance class at lunch today.

I hummed that Arabic pop song and walked on, in that cloud of mystery scent, towards home.

If you look closely enough, you’ll find that life is largely magic.

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I had a good chat with someone I haven’t spoken to in a while this afternoon and found out that she had actually left her husband after about five to six years of marriage.

One of the things she had told me was that she was constantly unhappy with him for all manners of things. They were small things but they all added up and one day, it just hit her that hey, she hasn’t been happy for a really long time.

“But it didn’t occur to me that there was a problem for a long while,” she said, “Because my parents are divorced and spend a lot of their lives being unhappy with each other. I thought that’s how a marriage is, that married people are supposed to be constantly unhappy with each other.”

I remember attending her wedding at Villa Bali so many years back and her (then) boss walking her down the aisle because her (still) estranged parents couldn’t agree to attend the wedding together.

Looking at my own marriage, I don’t think I’ve ever been seriously annoyed or unhappy with The Other Half ever in all of our time together. When we are upset with each other, we exchange words, and then the moment passes and we just get on with the programme.

So while I gear up to do my three reunion dinners this Chinese New Year, I shall remind myself not to take this happiness, this contentment for granted, to work at giving the children a positive impression of relationships to take with them into the future.

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almost closure

From One of our Thursdays is Missing by Jasper Fforde:

I thought for a moment. Of the untidy chaos I had seen in the RealWorld; of not knowing what was going to happen; of not knowing what, if anything, had relevance. The RealWorld was a sprawling mess of a book, in need of a good editor. I thought then of the narrative order here in the BookWorld, our resolved plot lines and the observance of natural justice we took for granted.

‘Literature is claimed to be a Mirror of the World,’ I said, ‘but the Outlanders are fooling themselves. The BookWorld is as orderly as people in the RealWorld hope their own world to be – it isn’t a mirror, it’s an aspiration.’

‘Humans,’ said Sprockett, ‘are the most gloriously bizarre creatures.’

‘Yes,’ I said with a smile, ‘they certainly are.’

One of my overdue judgements was released last Friday and collected and delivered to me in the course of this morning. I sat in my desk restlessly, paced around the office, and generally loitered suspiciously around until I received it in my hands and read it all the way through.

In the afternoon, I went to Court to attend one matter, then sat in the bar room, had a cup of tea, and read the last 3 chapters of my book to escape.

There’s nothing else left to do. Tomorrow is another day.

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a little like doing court duty

From One of Our Thursdays is Missing by Jasper Fforde:

It felt like covering for a character in a book without being told what the book was about, who was in it, or even what your character was doing up until then.

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Said Peanut to me after the balloon man at The Buddha’s party handed her a balloon teddy bear:

Mummy, I don’t want a bear! I want a BALLOON!!!

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