Admitting Defeat

Today* I admitted defeat.

Nothing extraordinary, just one of those days when life threw you a bit more than what you felt you can take.

Something in me just snapped, and before I could stop it, all I saw was red.

I lost my temper and it was like a bomb just exploded from deep within me.

Months of repressed emotions quickly rose up, eager to be unleashed, as if they had waited forever to get out.

I shouted.  Over and over again.

I screamed on top of my lungs until my throat hurted and the veins on my face and neck tightened painfully.  I slammed my fists on the wooden desk and hurled my phone across the floor.

Grief oozed out from my every pore.  My body started shaking from half-spent anger and desolation.

Slumped on a chair, I gripped both armrests in my fists and howled in agony.  There were no words, just animal-like sounds coming out of my mouth while tears flowed freely down my face.

I did not want to stop.

When my wails turned to whimpers, I slipped down to the floor and crawled to the corner of my study room, tucking my curled up body into the comforting nook between two walls.

Silent tears continued long after fatigue took over.

I floated in a state of semi-consciousness, in and out, in, out... until darkness and sleep finally arrived and claimed me.

*This post was written on November 19th, 2011

Wishful Thinking

Me On My Wedding Day

There was excitement in the air.  Around me people moved swiftly with props, lights, and their constant chattering about my dress, make-up, and hair.  I could not care less.  Just mere hours ago, in front of our family and friends, surrounded by green cymbidium orchids and white hydrangeas, we were pronounced ‘husband and wife.’

I was now a married woman, to the man of my dreams.  I love you, I love you!  I wanted to shout.  But instead I just smiled for the camera, trying to look calm in spite of the giddiness I tried so hard to repress, lest it burst out of my chest.  I wished time would slow down so I could commit to memory every detail of this day, but I guess it did not wait for anyone—not even the bride.

Later there would be a dinner reception, but that was still hours away.  Having just finished taking the group pictures, the photographer turned his full atention on me and was now clicking away like the paparazzi.   I felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

My fingers, encased in fitted gloves, gently traced the delicate lace that was my wedding dress.  The gold band on my left hand reminded me again of what just took place earlier that morning.  My heart skipped a beat.  He’s mine!   Forever.  I will make him so happy, he’ll never regret this day.

A voice telling me to turn my head the other way woke me up from my reverie.  That was when I caught his silhouette.  I knew those features by heart.  Clad in a black, double-breasted tuxedo, leaning against the wall deep in conversation with one of his groomsmen, he looked like a hero.

My knight in shining armor.   My other half.   My husband.

Looking at him, I was filled with certainty.  Of my destiny and the rest of my life.

With him.

This week's RemembeRed prompt: Some say a photograph steals the soul.  This week, show us yours: take us into the moment that photograph was taken.  Show us who you were then and what the photograph means–in 300 words.

Also linking up with:

Don't Quit

Some days, no matter how long I stared at the computer screen, or how much I willed my mind to come up with something to write, I just could not do it.  I was never one to write a post quickly; even those that I considered 'spontaneous' were not really that spontaneous if you count the number of times I proofread and deleted 'things.'  I wished I could say that writing came naturally to me, but the reality was that I put a lot of time and efforts into my posts.

As a blogger among many, it could be quite challenging not to compare myself with others.  Of course I desired recognition!  I wished for more people to read and care about my writing!  I longed to make a difference and touched other people's lives with my words!  I heard of others' works being syndicated or published, and I wanted that for myself too!

There were times when I read posts written by other bloggers and honestly thought to myself, "These were crap!  How in hell did they ever get this famous?"    There were also times when I read posts by other bloggers and honestly thought to myself, "Holy sheeit, these would make my writing look like crap!  How in hell would I ever get famous?"  

You see, whichever way I saw it, I would end up feeling crappy and shitty.  Mostly about myself.  And before long, about life in general.  Predictably, it pretty much went downhill from there.

I have no other wisdom to spare but to repeat what others before me have said: "Remember why you started your blog in the first place."  This piece of advice might seem cliche, but I could not stress its importance enough.  I started mine because I love to write, and because I could communicate my feelings through written words better than verbally.  That was it.  No other agendas.  

Yet time and time again, I found myself worrying over things that have little to do with why I started my blog.  And when I did that, it robbed me of everything that was fun and pleasurable about writing.  Having a blog started to become a burden, filled with self-imposed deadlines and obligations.  Yeah, it felt like homework.  And who the heck on earth liked homework?

Sure, Sweaty, it's easy for you to say this because you have x number of followers, etc. etc....  Hey, I knew for a fact (believe me, I know) that there were other bloggers who started around the same time as me, who were now enjoying a much bigger audience and fame.  I have been blogging for close to nine months now, written over 190 posts, and not one has ever been syndicated (you're reading this, people in BlogHer?).  I have only written two guest posts so far, and to my knowledge, have none scheduled in the near horizon.  

Sure, Sweaty, you're a loser, so why should anybody listen to you?  Well, other than  I'm trying to save your arse from self-inflicted pain and agony (said in such a way, it really puts you in perspective, doesn't it?), it's because I have seen many talented, funny, interesting bloggers called it quit because of sentiments I mentioned above.  The same sentiments that plagued me and made me want to quit from time to time.  And I hated to see all those potential gone to waste. 

If  with this post, I could just persuade one blogger NOT to quit, I would feel like I have done my job.  Staring at the computer with a blank mind is alright and normal.  Go take a break from your blog and come back another day.  You have posts that you think were brilliant but had no comments?  So do I!  Don't judge yourself based on that, because not all of blogging is about brilliance in writing.  Trust me.  A lot of times it is more about your networking and the people whom you know.  Perseverance goes a long way.  Keep on writing, even if you think it is nothing but verbal diarrhea and word vomit.  What you consider as shit could very well be an inspiration for others (no kidding!). 

Always remind yourself why you started writing in the beginning.  That is your passion; do not let all the embellishments of blogging deviate you from that.  

In other words, just be you.

New Leaf

"Littlest Things" - Lily Allen



Paris, Autumn 2013.

It is late in the afternoon.  A bus approaches, and at a nearby stop, a woman sweeps her hair back and adjusts the sling to her messenger bag.  With a loud hiss, the door slides open in front of her.  She quickly steps inside the bus, passes the ticket to the driver, and walks to a seat several rows down.

Turning her body towards the opened window, she sinks deeper into her seat.  She lifts her face to the wind and finds its coolness a nice contrast to the warmth underneath her jacket.  She takes in a view of her favorite city—a beautiful mixture of faces, shapes, and colors that blurs and sharpens according to the bus’ speed.

The sight of a young couple kissing catches her eyes, prompting images from ten years past to flash before her eyes.  Clasped fingers and matching gold rings... Honeymoon suites and rumpled sheets... Slow kisses on street corners, and sweet, sentimental gestures.  Moments belonging only to those who believe that true love never dies.

The bus slows down near her destination: a massive steel structure that looms over her as she steps out from her ride into the sidewalk.  A place where memories past and present collide.  She knows what comes next.  Remembrance of a familiar face behind a camera, beckoning her to smile at this very place.

Her feet continues their steps across the pavement, under the shadow of the tower towards the open grounds beyond.  The air is colder now and the wind stronger.  Her eyes focuses on the trees ahead, their golden leaves glimmer against the setting sun.

The phone in her hand rings.  She picks it up, already knowing who the caller is.

“I see you,” she can hear the smile in his voice.

In the distance, a figure holding a phone in his hand comes into view.  Smiling back, she shakes her head, the last remnants of her past disappearing as love’s new face replaces the old.

She whispers softly to the wind, one last farewell to a bygone romance: “I’ve loved you. I always will.”

This week's Red Writing Hood prompt: First, find the song that will be played during the pivotal scene in the movie based on your magnum opus. With that song playing, write that pivotal scene – it’s your choice whether you write it as a screen play or as it’s played out in your novel.  Feel free to embed the song to your blog post . . . you have 300 words

Thoughtful (Thanksgiving) Thursday Blog Hop

Link Up With Us Every Thursday on 

 THOUGHTFUL THURSDAY Blog Hop!

It's So Easy:  

1. Follow the hosts: Look who Found the Marbles, Do Sweat the Small Stuff and Rock and Drool.  
2. Link up your favorite post from the past week and check out some of the other great sites in the linky.
3. That’s all there is to it!

Hosted by Look Who Found the Marbles , Do Sweat the Small Stuff and Rock and Drool

<a href="http://dosweatthesmallstuffblog.blogspot.com/search/label/Thoughtful%20Thursday" _mce_href="http://dosweatthesmallstuffblog.blogspot.com/search/label/Thoughtful%20Thursday"><img src="http://i1097.photobucket.com/albums/g345/dosweatthesmallstuff/ThoughtfulThursdayBlogHop.png" http://i1097.photobucket.com/albums/g345/dosweatthesmallstuff/ThoughtfulThursdayBlogHop.png?action=view&current=ThoughtfulThursdayLinky.jpg" alt="Found the Marbles" width=”125″ height=”125″border=0 /></a>

We Heart London (Part 2)

Back in October, Miss Chatterbox and I went on a one-week holiday to London.  Here are some more pictures we have not shown you in Part 1 :)

London cabs waiting in front of Harrod's

The Pet Boutique at Harrods

Patisserie for Pets at Harrods

Treat your pets with cupcakes and truffles--all free of preservatives!

The Diana and Dodi memorial at Harrod's

At the lobby of the Claridge Hotel

Dinner for two at Gordon Ramsay's at Claridge's

Inside the restaurant

Our server, presenting the famous Beef Wellington

Now there were two!

Beef for two

Check out this flusher I found inside the restrooms in Claridge's

The prettiest toilet I've seen

Miss Chatterbox acting shy

Chocolate souffle was a must!

Lemon cake with caramelized pears

The epitome of afternoon tea - The Dorchester

There's something for everyone.  Liquor, anyone?

Enjoying the experience

Amuse-Bouche

Tea for Miss Chatterbox, Rosee Champagne for Mommy

Finger sandwiches

Sipping her 'pink' tea

Homemade jams

Sweet treats

Wouldn't be complete without the scones!

Just another end of the day in London...

Linking up with:

A Quiet Place

This week's RemembeRed prompt:  Where is your quiet place?  What does it look like?  What happens there?  Word limit is 200. 

 

It was long past midnight.  

I leaned back, my neck resting on top of the cushioned seat.  My fingers, uncurling from their positions on the computer keys, intertwined above my head as I stretched my arms upward.  I gave out an involuntary sigh.

   

Muted lights from the pool below cast shadows that danced outside my windows.  I breathed in deeply, noticing subtle traces of stargazer lilies emanating from the reed diffuser I had placed nearby.  Shades of pink--my favorite color--in mismatched prints and patterns, surrounded me.  Pictures of my daughter, scattered all around the room, smiled at me, warming my heart instantly. 

I smiled at the thought of my little one nestled underneath her blanket, most likely dreaming of pixie fairies and rainbow unicorns.  My other-half in the room next door, looking more like the man who fell in love with me than the one who broke my heart to pieces when he let his guards down in his sleep. 

The dimmed light from the chandelier washed over me like a halo.  Sitting behind the desk at the corner of my study, while the rest of the house was peacefully asleep, I thanked God and said my prayers.  I felt my faith restored, my hopes took flight, and all was right.  At that moment, when silence reigned and darkness ruled, contentment, so elusive during the day, was finally mine.   

A Seasoned Woman

I am a woman seasoned in love and heartbreaks.

I have had my share of admiring glances, overblown flattery, and love letters...

Of lingering phone calls, ostentatious bouquets, and gallant offers to take me home.

I know how it feels like to have my heart picked up its beat simply from setting sight on a beloved face.

To have electric currents running through my veins as the result of a single touch or close proximity.

To pass the day counting the hours and minutes until the next encounter.

I have tasted the pleasure of lovemaking... the tangling of two bodies in salty sweat and sweet caress.

Connected in a perfect fit where throbbing pain and ardent pleasure became one and the same. 

Taking turns to arouse, entice, and satisfy.

I am no stranger to griefs and heartaches...

Depression, regrets, and disappointments have left their marks on my mind.

My heart bears scars from loves lost, promises forgotten, and dreams that shattered. 

I am a woman seasoned in love and heartbreaks.

Who has witnessed her parents' divorce and is now staring at the end of her marriage.

Yet still believes in happy endings, prince charming, and a life well-lived.

Linking Up with

and

Attention: All Sweaty Lovers... (Updated as of November 19th)

Ages ago, I expressed my desire to move to WordPress to a few of my bloggy friends.  That day has finally come (yeah, I know... like, FINALLY!!!).  The migration is supposed to happen sometime today these few days, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Many of you know how technologically-challenged I am, so of course I'm not the one who'll be doing the moving.  I have a team of very smart people from Shatterboxx who will do that for me (phew!).  AND, a few glitches here and there (most likely me trying to navigate my way through the new and foreign land that is WordPress) are to be expected, so please be warned!  Hee hee.

Here's another thing (VERY IMPORTANT!!!):  Once my WP site is up and running, my blog address will NOT be www.dosweatthesmallstuff... anymore.  All of you Sweaty lovers out there would know that I've complained on several occasions, what a pain in the arse it was to type such a bloody long name every time I commented on other people's blogs.  Soooo... the new address... will be...

... announced once the move is completed.

I don't know how this sort of thing usually works, whether or not you would have to update your subscription to my feedburner etc. etc...  So just want to give you a heads up and PLEASE DON'T ABANDON ME!!!  I NEED YOU ALL!  MAKE SURE YOU GET MY NEW ADDRESS (I'll announce it soon) SO THAT YOU CAN STILL LOVE ME, OKAY???  There. I've said what I really wanted to say.

Meanwhile, wish me luck.  And yes, of course I'm freaking out!

Love,
Sweaty