The calm after the storm...

It's been a reflective and terrible week again. Why is it I always blog to say how crap it's been :(

The reason for the total crapness all came to a head on Tuesday Morning. I spent a grand total of 17 hours at the office on Monday, which culminated in a document being sent off to the client 5 hours before the window closed. I got back to my hotel, groggy for exhaustion at 4AM and decided they won't see me on Tuesday, especially after losing half of Sunday to work too.

Yesterday was spent suffering from a vision related migraine but was also spent with thoughts swimming through my head. Obscure, dream induced thoughts. As if my subconcious was melting into my conciousness at times. (When ever I think of melting, I think of Kerry, Lost in Japan at this very moment).

I think some much needed toursit time is due this weekend. It'll be my last weekend in London before I jet back late on the 9th... Maybe a walk around the Thames in the cold, or a visit to the Tate Modern. This canvas needs some footprint dabs.

Friday night spurred the eternal questions around being happy. How does one "look" for happiness? Can you even look for happiness? Isn't happiness like the Tao would preach: "No attachment to material things" or is it more subtle than that, a balance. I'm inclined to think the latter, and sitting here being a baker is not helping at all. I need to go out there and find my path and just follow it. I need to find out who I really am inside cos I've been getting hints of it for too long now. Some suggest finding that head-space, 3 months of absolutely nothing, no time constraints, no being tied down. Maybe that's why Tibet is the world's most popular backpacking nation in the world.

Happiness is internal appreciation, the ice floating in the fizz of your coke on a hot summer day. Happiness is sharing a smile and getting one back. Happiness is knowing you're loved and loving others just as hard and then some.

The sun is lazy today, just doing enough work to keep the chill at bay. Moderately warm they say.

Wind: a hurried messenger, fueled by the cold of the arctic waters and it's temperate-under-the-collar customer miles inland. Always running, never stopping to ask how I am.

Soft sand whisked up in the stress of the trafficking wind forms long lines across the beach. Holding hands, these strands of sand never letting go of their peers, their families, their lovers.

Tired feet massaged by the receding sandy water underneath, gurgling as each step passes. The now defunct sandals bundled together in my left hand.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. Her dress seems to play with the wind, curling itself around the pressure and turning it into something graceful.

Signing off with the following: Someone special popped into the world this day, her beautiful brown eyes seen for the first time by her obviously proud parents, is it 23 years ago? *grin* Happy Birthday Carla!