I Know I'm Not Supposed To

On one of my innocent outings yesterday -- not buying, not doing anything one, I ended up with some items. They are the least expensive among the lot as I have to be practical and er, economical, but still, they satisfy my appetite for desirable. With no doubt, they are good purchases, these are items you could easily bring home.

I bought the All-One, which, after one use, proved to be a wonderful purchase, organically qualified, smooth skin and wonderful lavender scent. I think this line will be one of my staples.

I also have this!

I haven't had a facial, truth to tell. That's because I don't have the patience to sit around waiting for someone to finish doing something on my face. I cannot even stand a pedicure or a manicure for the same reason. I get too impatient for them to finish, I'd rather do it myself. Because of this, I am on a constant lookout for a good facial cleanser, the one that would make/do some badly needed miracles for me. This product is organic, which is a good thing, but it would take some time to determine its effectivity. I've used it but once, let's wait and see.

Then I have the Nature's Gate shampoo. It's nothing life changing, not shiny, not frilly. Very cheap too. I've used this product before. I buy it to quiet my worry about using too much palmolive and sunsilk which work for me, don't get me wrong, but I'd rather use something with a home made feel to it....

And so, the innocent did not turn out so innocent after all. Tsk.

Thoughts from home

I've been homebound for a week now, cautious about going out because for me that would mean spending a lot and also because work won't be two weeks from now. So home it is for me.

Laundry still piles up. Dust gathers. Sheets get changed once a week--
I'm not very quick on the household chores. But not far behind either.

For the first time today though, I set foot outside for a short, mundane, grocery shopping. Usually, that's something I enjoy. I am the type of person who, without anything to purchase loves to go to grocery stores and look at the array of items on the shelves. The happy shiny things sitting there waiting to be bought makes me happy. But being home for so long and belt-tightening make the outing unattractive to me.

The first thing I noticed when I went out was my thicker waist, my jeans told me so. And how pretty and interestingly smart and busy the two girls sitting in starbucks were.

Everyone looked to me like they have some sort of purpose.
One girl I saw by the sidewalk was even wearing black-heeled shoes. I'm sure they were intended for something...

And there were those old men who easily coagualate in coffee shops sitting also in starbucks talking business or not. Reading newspapers. Occupied, so very occupied. Like they've done something for the day already and are finished and are there because they're done.

Then the book-readers. Mesmerized.

I've been gone from the outside world so long things look different to me. Not for better, certainly not worst. But it brought me to thinking that I've lost that rhythm that makes me fit the mold, when I, just like everyone else goes my own way, so very unconcious about myself, primarily present in a certain area, at a certain time, because I'm there for something, and I'm there without really thinking I'm there. I just am. I just fall in step with everyone else and part of the picture.

The thing is, being home made me lose interest in so many things, I got easy. I lost that drive, that desire that makes certain things important somehow. I became less interested in getting something, being somewhere, because I see so little that makes them a must do or a must have. Everything are just part of a thought, nothing more, immersed as I am in my own little world.

Now, I don't know if I miss being that other. Continuously seeking. Having. Living so many different selves-- the reading girl, the girl by the sidewalk, even the old men who were there because they've done all else....

Pretty soon I will lose all conciousness again and just do and do and do.

Going Back to the Basics

As a kid, I was taught that before I could read the day away, I had to finish all my household chores first. Errands and routine chores lined up as a prelude to what would be pleasurable activities. Bathed and clean, I could then call the day mine, to do with as I pleased.


Today, it is aptly called delaying gratification, simply the maturity to wait for something that is desired until it could be achieved -- all in its right time and its right place. A simple motivation to catapult me into doing the nitty gritty details of my tasks so I could finally do whatever it is I have planned for the day.

And this is rightly so. There is every good intention here. Thereafter, pure and simple bliss.

On one hand, there is something else I learned on the way. I became familiar with the all too uncomfortable feeling of IMPATIENCE.

I became impatient with the small details, and attacked things generally, with no attention and love for the unnoticeable. So long as I finish one and move on to the next, I am okay and good.

Like a well-oiled machine, I go through the motions and practice what was preached but didn't learn anything else. It all became a wily act, an act of survival. In my haste to go to the next level in this game I played, I forgot many things.

I forgot to brush my teeth slowly and savor the minty feel of the toothpaste in my mouth, as each stroke of the brush washes away tons of bacteria. I forgot to enjoy the feel of a clean mouth after this ritual.

I forgot to wipe surfaces gently and with attention to the direction of the wood, there was no talking to the wood-spirit and communing with nature in my own living room. I forgot that.

I forgot to fold clothes neatly, sorting every color, classifying each cloth according to use, and perhaps remembering things about the clothes or those they belong to. Sending them some kindly thought.

I forgot to change the linens slowly, lingeringly. Forgetting to smell the sun in the fabric and the picture of them dancing outside to the rhythm of a wind that was barely there in this hot, hot summertime.

I forgot.

I forgot to savor and relish and revere. I forgot to take my time and pause and appreciate what's going on and bathe in the rigours of the ordinary and find pleasure in repetition.

But now I have to conciously take the time to remember.

Re-member.
Put things together again, make sense of things and put value in the littlest detail.

My way of preparing for my little ones who I will be teaching in turn.