He was perfect. He greeted me with a soft whisper. His embrace was strong yet warm. We played and He chased me playfully pulling down under His blanket of a fluffy foam. The waves of His touch caressed my skin oh so gently. His greatness overwhelms my mind. His name is Ocean.
She is a bitch. Her name is Life.
After returning from sunny heaven back to the foggy Little Island of reality I've made an interesting observation. Very often I used to have this odd perception of reality as if I'm not a part of it, like watching yourself on a screen. Some movie or something. Detached. I kind of got used to it thinking this is what comes with age - a way of wisdom's adjustements to the illusion of life. I've now noticed that i had none of such perception while I was on holidays. Now it makes me think that sense of detachement is, actually, a protection mode mind goes into when it doesn't want to deal with reality. So simple: when we feel happy we do associate ourselves with reality, when we are miserable - we step out of the screen and become observers.
As soon as I've found myself on a bus ride to work, the perception of being outside has returned to me. Oh well. At least what's familiar brings no concern.
The vacation did exactly what it was meant to do - recharged my energy fully. In fact, I think, it might've overcharged it slightly, as I'm having the occasional outbreaks of distructive nature, but surprisingly not feeling upset, annoyed or irritated about it at all. Instead I feel quite laid back in the disasterous situations and found myself giggling at it and at me. This week I dissasembled my old mp3 player in a hope to replace the battery. The new one I've purchased had slightly different connector. So instead of leaving the old battery in place, I've ripped the connector from both, new and old planning to swap them over. It is a no brainer to guess what happenned next. I have now one dissasembled gadget and two batteries in pretty unusable state. And no music. Damn. I have just ordered yet another battery. If am lucky, it'll come with the right connector. If not - I'll buy a new player. Am I blond or what?
Actually, I'm not. Not anymore, that is. Today I coloured my hair. I intended to go darker only half-tone or so. It just doesn't work that simple, doesn't it? I'm not quite black yet. But am deffinitely not a blond anymore. How blond is that?! In a normal real life I'd be in panic and on the run to the nearest shop to get another colour before the colleagues will see me like this tomorrow morning. Today I'm feeling all gigglish about it and imagine how I'll turn up to the office and surprise my folks there. I'm also playing with the idea of reverting to original colour next day after that and claim their insanity when they'll question me on the colour of my hair. How funny that would be, eh?!
I'm tired of typing, though haven't said all I wanted to say still. It is late and I'm suitably aged not to have official excuse for sleepy state. This chapter will have to wait to be written some another time.