BeMused

About Postcards to the Past

Dear Cléa

Hi, thought you would like the card I picked up in LA. I have been here 1 ½ days and I have been to Knotts Berry Farm Amusement Park, Hollywood/Beverly Hills and then the Spruce Goose and the Queen Mary Ship at long Beach.

Fiji was nice. I have discovered a place to have long hours in the sun by day and long hours doing nothing at night. It’s a good break.

Things are good but guess who I’m thinking about.

See you soon.
Love
Nathan

xxx

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A less than fleeting dream, lasting moments of an eternity. A feel good sensation, a heart-warming emotion, a smile that screamed silent sentiments.

An enduring longing, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste in the daylight.

1. Waiting for the ‘Skip Intro’ button to load on websites that use heavy Flash, fancy graphics, sound and advertising that mean nothing to me when all you want is to get information on their products.
2. Waiting for a tradesman huge arse crack to get out of your line of sight this morning as he was fixing a door.
3. Tradesmen who don’t come prepared with common spare parts and have to return and waste more time.
4. The car park of a major shopping centre that is designed in such a way that in order to exit you must do a huge loop around each level, while your 2 hour free parking is about to run out.
5. The endless drivel you hear from call centres before you speak to a real person. Followed by your multiple “can you repeat that” because you can’t understand their offshore accents (and I’m very good with foreign accents).
6. The subliminal messages you get while you’re placed on hold, not the “we value your call” garden manure variety but the 70s pr0n-style music they subject their customers to.
7. The time it takes from the moment your possessed PC freezes, for you to pull the plug, put it back in, reboot, login and declare your hatred for it in poetic terms. x3
8. The myth of teamwork when you wait for a team “member” to do their part and out of sheer frustration of the wait you end up doing it yourself, and doing it better.
9. Online geek companies that don’t tell you their freight charges upfront unless you create an account with them and go through the rigmarole of a fake purchase.
10. Waiting for (yet another) tradesman to call when you’ve been locked out of your garage and it’s nearly midday and you haven’t showered yet.
11. Waiting for that obligatory minute for the water to heat up before you finally step into the shower, your mobile phone handy in case you miss that call.
12. When a person freely offers advice or help, and you ask for it then wait for them to get back to you and you end up in a rinse repeat cycle of number 8.
13. In days of high tecchh-nnnooo-lllogy, being told that a small item delivery takes 4 – 6 weeks.
14. The daily ritual of deleting spam out of multiple email addresses and tossing away more spam from your home mailbox into the recycling bin.
15. Widget selling websites that refuse to deliver to post office boxes assuming you are house-bound or office-bound and thus end up making you so.
16. Tossing up whether to click on an ecard link sent to you on your birthday and risk getting a Trojan as a surprise gift then doing the copy and paste thing into Firefox.
17. Paying an exorbitant call charge for something so stoopid that you wish you were a big fat smoke-smelling handyman yourself with an arse crack instead of the work you do.
18. Realising that the day is over and you’ve done enough time wasting that none of your priorities were met and your productivity is nil. And you still haven’t eaten.
19. Waiting for the ink to dry on this post as you decide whether to publish it or delete it.
20. Wasting no more time deciding between a dry Martini, left over Veuve or your favourite Pinot Noir and planning to have all three.

Written with an appreciative nod to the Study in General Timewasting Theory.

This post is a timepiece from the vaults of my hard drive. Minor edits have been made yet the originality is preserved.

I woke up this morning and took a long, hard look in the mirror. To my astonishment, a stranger looked at me from a safe distance.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“You,” was her reply.

I looked again at the face glaring at me with surprise. What happened to my long hair, to the sparkle in my eyes and to that radiant face?

Time was all I could think of on that cold autumn morning, time and its ravages that have eroded certain aspects of myself. No longer was I a carefree university student in my early twenties, full of excitement and ambition for a future that lay dormant for four years.

Twenty-first birthdays had become a faded memory. Late night parties did not terminate before 2 am. University was an exchange of ideas and intellect. Optimism was at its peak. A guarantee of employment at the end was a fait accompli. Economic recession was not on everybody’s lips. Graduation signified more than a piece of paper that adorned a blank wall. It was the symbol of freedom, of an open-door to a fulfilling future.

Today, we live in a recycled age. Fashion and styles mimic those of past decades. Popular music lacks original appeal. Political correctness is mandatory. Our philosophy has to conform with everyone else’s. We struggle to keep our jobs. We are forced into heavy workloads and long hours. Yet we are easily replaceable. We are readily retrenched. Our entire lives could alter at any moment. And we must learn to accept it and move on.

We do not live. We exist.

I look at my pale cheeks and sad expression. My skin is not as taut as before. My figure is not as slender as it has always been. I am fading away.

I get dressed for work. My wardrobe reflects classic styles. I look deflated and demure. I apply make-up in natural colours. I brush my hair. Are these dark circles under my eyes? Did I always resemble my mother?

I stare into the mirror again. I look so bland…

I pick up my recycled birthday card. I place it on the dressing table. I reach for my signature lipstick. I apply it slo-w-ly. I take another look at myself. I smile.

I am a year older today.

About Postcards to the Past

Dear Cléa

As you’ve probably guessed I’m in Adelaide! It’s a small place but very nice. Perth (the first stop) seemed smaller though. As one cabbie put it “… take away the two main streets and there’s nothin’ left…” Next stop will be Melbourne then Sydney, then Surfers for 10 days. Have been staying in youth hostels they’re full of Swedes and Canadians (they hate to be called Americans).

Best wishes Love
Jeff
. .
0

PS we must arrange a dinner, lunch etc sometime. Will take steps to achieve this soon.

***************************

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