time and the essence of a woman on the loose (or a loose woman with so much time in her hands))

i never had a surplus of time.
until now.
i am drowning on it.
tick tock tick tock.

this must be how my mother felt all her life, being a stay at home house maker.
maybe that's the reason why she is always chill, she hardly ever loses her cool.
(my father, a military man, was always away on some destination. so it was always just her, the kids and the sometimes there, sometimes absent, helpers.)
nothing daunts her. screaming kids? nah.
it must have been super boring.
staying at home all the time.
just counting the seconds until it's time to bathe the kids, prepare their meals, feed them, sing them to sleep, clean the small house.
and then voila, she is all by herself again.
doing nothing. get some sleep maybe. read a little.
watch desperate housewives (or cougar town), perhaps, if there was one during her time?

count the seconds again until the kids wake up.
then it's the same cycle.
now i have very high respect for her and all the stay-at-home moms.

*******

time is oppressive.
it's a prison.
i hate it.
time reminds me of death.
that everything is ephemeral.
why can't things stay the way they are, especially if we are having fun?

*******

i am different.
i could never be a home maker (a home wrecker, that i would luv to be!).
i could never imagine myself having kids. nurturing them until they grow up and have kids of their own.
(then they blame you for all their miseries and failures. until now i can't get over this scene: my older sister shouting at my poor mother, blaming her for all her troubles. i wanted to shout back, grow up you fuck up idiot! but i kept quiet to diffuse the tension. it was her scene and i don't want to steal the show from her, the big loser.)
i need to go out. all the time if that's possible.
make every second count by doing something that i luv (could be breaking the news, interviewing celebrities, gawking at models in shows, attending press cons, analysing economic data. creating fabulous costumes. anything.).
i used to whine to friends that 24 hours never seemed enough.
my friends must have gotten tired of me talking about the same thing. all over. like scenes from a pirated movie in a substandard disc.
i have mastered the art of whining and of making dramah of small things.
i could win an oscar.
that's why i am getting fewer calls for coffee and wine.
i have become a social pariah!

*******

the desire to have more time for myself is what drove me to pack my things and leave the rat race. i don't have the stomach anymore for it. i have developed ulcers because of that.
i don't regret the decision.
i never regret anything.
life is as it is.

*******

now i have lots of time.
how am i spending it?
here is what i wanted to do to fill those tiny seconds and what i have done.
so far.

want                                                                           instead
* do volunteer works                                 watch movies, have coffee in malls
(feed kids, teach kids, build homes)      
* read the classics, philosophy                  read celebrity news, internet,blogs
* exercise, get fit & fab                             eat a lot of junk, get drunk all the time
* start a healthy lifestyle,                          back to smoking, sleeping less and less
  sleep 7 hours a day                        
* spend more time with friends, family    barhoppping, boywatching
* visit places i have never been to            more internet, facebook, blogs
and oh yes, fantasising about those twinks who are wearing next to nothing.

what can i say?
hard habits are bad to break?
or something.

********

so what's my point exactly?
i don't know.
i am wasting my time and yours as well.
so stop reading this.

*******

it's one of those days, those moods, those times.
it's raining and i am feeling the reds.
you know what i mean, don't you?
don't you ever get those mean reds?
blues are easy, i can beat them anytime.
and yes, these are lines (i think) from breakfast at tiffany's.

*******

like holly golightly (a character, i think, that the luvly truman capote had written and was tailor made for marilyn monroe but went to audrey hepburn instead. don't you ever wonder how the film would be like with marilyn on it? having said this, i luv audrey and this movie. i read the book, it's soo dark, very much different from the film.).

i have seen almost all of audrey's films.
i luv looking at her in those fabulous, fabulous clothes made even better on her gorgeous face and thin as a stick body.
anyway, like holly golightly, i still haven't unpacked my things.
my clothes, shoes, bags are still in lv (lumang vag) suitcases.
because i intend to be some where else all the time.
that's why i am staying temporarily in a temporary building where the lobby reeks of  the smell of cigarette smoke, beer, marijuana and of body odor; where sex tourists, hookers, drug dealers, pimps, gamblers mill around and do business late at nights.
where the elevator is soooo slow, i sweaR it would take me faster to my 21st floor room if i take the stairs. and i have, by the way.

********

in my dream.
i am in a place where time does not exist and people are unmindful of the passing minute.
it's called neverland.

*******
(super note on this one: i don't own these pictures, they are all from the net. so pls don't sue me. i can delete them anytime if your copyright has been violated. and please watch out for my next post. it will be more (s)exciting and titilating than all the seiko films combined. promise!)