I do love oranges. But this routine of mine, of peeling the poor thing and then spraying the whole desk (and fingers) with the sticky juice is driving me insane.
Obviously I didn't came here to moan about the way I eat my breakfast (and of not throwing away the tissue that I use to clean such mess, but leave it on my desk, as if it was my new pet and was keeping me company). I came here to make sure I remember two points.
The first point is a feeling. I imagined how intriguing it would be if it was possible to live the life of someone else for one day. During my pre-adult years, I had the 'opportunity' to work in the crappiest and most weird jobs that you could imagine (e.g. check screws while monitoring an oven in a dimly light factory during 1AM till 6AM over the weekends. Yeah, what can be worst, right?). And this gave me insight into ways of thinking that I could have never thought about, and those thoughts have accompanied me over the following years.
But of course I couldn't do them all. Mainly because most require different skills and factors which I may not possess. And this is a shame. If we could all wear each other's shoes, I think they way we interpret each other would dramatically change.
I imagined being a social young blogger, capturing pretty pictures of my breakfast (maybe some oranges as well, but mainly muesli and pricy blueberries), courtesy of the latest hotel from the most flashy city, paid by (the mystery of 'who it is really that sponsors them') so that they can cover as many collections as they can during the busy fashion week. Get to wear those nice clothes and then get mesmerized by the fact that you look a million times better in those pictures than in real life.
I would also like to be an engineer. Practicality, solve other client's nightmares, and then see my creation somewhere. Go home and worry about my own hobbies, but not my job anymore. I could be a dancer. Feel the pain after protracted rehearsal hours. Visit Freeds and be considered an usual. I could be a writer. Feel the block of not knowing what to deliver. But deliver it in time, nevertheless. Be a firewoman and go down the pole. Be a professional Olympic skater and understand that hug right after your routine, coming from your couch, the one in the stadium that can get to feel your emotions. I could continue this list endlessly. It is just a pity that it could never become true. There are so many things that I wish I could learn. But I guess it is all about choices.
The second point is a post-it note that I don't store mentally for fear of loosing it (lately I sometimes realize I cannot follow a conversation and I am dreaming about introductions, and ballets, and my daily thoughts that are becoming oppressive and compulsive):
I have found this charming store in London and I think when it is all over (of course I am talking about my thesis, there is nothing else that I seem to be able to chat about lately if not that), I deserve to go and buy new ribbons for my flat shoes, which will soon become a pompom. They do remind me one of those cute dogs that you feel the urge to put a fancy dress on them because they look more like a lion than a dog.
https://www.facebook.com/Boo
I adore this dog. You can also follow him on Facebook (he is irresistible!).
Smelly kisses of oranges for everyone. I have procastinated far too much this morning.
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