Because of some lamentable and tragic moments in my past that involved tequila and what could only be described as a large hadron collider somewhere in my general stomach area, right under and behind the sternum and radiating upward and stopping around my inner ear, I have turned into a cautious bunny who has been living the quiet life of the ginger beer drinkers. We are a quiet bunch who enjoy long walks on the beach, normal sleep patterns and not being tickled. We also still enjoy wine, but shhh, don't tell my liver that ;)
I'm gonna paint you a picture: it's morning, so early that the trams are the only things making noise on the street, I'm curled up in my nook in the kitchen, the one right between the fruit bowl and the fridge with the chocolate to satisfy both sides of the nutritional coin; and I'm sitting there clutching the coffee cup and whispering sweet nothings to it, the usual 'Our babies would be smart and cheeky and beautiful so why does the world not get the depth and aroma and sting and insert-coffee-related-adjective-here of our love?' and my mother walks in with the words to describe the week:
Darling, you look truly and genuily horrible, like some truck ran you over! Why don't you take a break from uni today?
And when I reminded her I have an exam in 3 hours, she petted my head lightly, passed me a Kinder egg and promptly kicked me out of the kitchen to go and read about neurodegenerative diseases and low-grade diffuse astrocytomas.
Because it has been that kind of week. I did get to see the most amazing surgery where I stared at a brain just an arm's length away (and brains are amazing and powerful even when pushed and pulled apart by horrible diseases and under those light in the OR it looks like it's got the most beautiful red and pink marble pattern and just how amazing is that guys, you're carrying that miracle organ around with you and it blows your mind - ha ha ha - when you realize how awe-inspiring it can be) and that was all-shades-of-the-rainbow great but...
But 8am to 9pm days kill me faster than I killed ants with a magnifying glass when I was young (I was a cute kid with a sharp and jagged sadistic streak) and I fell asleep twice this week in fetal position on the couch with my mother's politically related rambles in the background.
And that's all because of my Public Health and Marketing course which I hate. I hate it so much that I will refrain from putting it into too many words for fear I might run out of synonyms for hate. And it has nothing to do with me almost failing Econ 101 in high school because I am not a bitter person at all. Cough cough.
So this is me sleepy and beat up and yet still in awe after a week of neurosurgery so here we go: come on next week, let's see what you've got.
But at least it was a good Sunday before all that. Sundays are generally good, because on Sunday, The Boy and I watched countless episodes of The West Wing, aka the best show ever made in the world of everything, and enjoyed good food and sunshine in an almost visceral need to balance the week out.
I was also lucky again to get to model a piece from the spring-summer Tina R. collection. This time I chose the beautiful shirt because it reminded me of pastel watercolors and how summer looks in the rain and of crazy beautiful graffiti, hence the photoshoot location.
You can also check the Tina R blog here for some more inspiration :)
The weather was that weird combination of cold seeping into your bones while the sun gives you sunburns on the tip of your nose, which let to a lot of teeth clattering and a few snowballs thrown around for good measure.
I was excited here because this guy on the wall was new. We had a connection, we really did.
Wearing: Zara skirt, shirt courtesy of Tina R., Kotton sweater, Adesgo tights, Nine West boots.
And this is the moment when I was probably waiting to break into a The Muppets song as a serenade to the little guy. Because that's how cool I am. Man or Muppet anyone? :))
And now excuse me while I bury myself in The West Wing episodes of awesome and daydream of being C.J. Cregg when I grow up while also pondering how Rob Lowe's face ever got that chiseled and if I find that attractive or just plain creepy.
And, as always, revert to my number one coping mechanism: chocolate. Mmmmm.
Song of the Day: Take That - SOS