You Turned Out To Be..

I think about you sometimes 

Sometimes often 
Sometimes occasionally 
Sometimes, surprisingly 

What was 
What happened 
What might have been 

And I think Beyonce said it right: 
You're The Best Thing I Never Had

Excellent manicurist at Nails Garden, Ikano Power Centre

Never underestimate the amazing high that receiving (well, paying for) a well-done manicure can give you.

I also believe in giving props to jobs well done, so here it is.

I popped into Nails Garden on the fly at lunch break today because my snagged, chipped, flaked nails & cuticles were just about driving me up-the-wall crazy.

(The store is located at the corner of the P1 tunnel at IPC, next to the organic produce store and across from Chocolate World & Bread Talk.)

I've got to say, when I first walked in, I didn't have a very good impression. The three therapists were working at things on the tables at the front of house. Two of them looked up at me and went straight back to what they were doing (ie. one was working on a ledger and the other was just yakking) without any further acknowledgement that I was there. I piped up, "I'd like to get a basic manicure, please" and the other therapist who was working on some nail art looked over, packed her things and invited me to have a seat. Her name was Michelle.

I asked for a basic mani, no colour, just a trim, shape & removing of cuticles (short lunch break, mah), and Michelle then proceeded to work on my nails with a minimum of fuss & with great care.

Now, if you're a seasoned patron of manicures, you will know that not all manicures are equal... and I must say, Michelle gave me possibly the best (basic) manicure I've ever received. She was quick & professional, but very meticulous. She gently but rather determinedly, I must say, removed every bit of calloused cuticles (mine are pretty horrifying - hardened, dry, flaked & splintered) and hangnails, and gently buffed my nails which had torn off in layers (I have horrifyingly soft nails).

The basic manicure cost RM28. Without colour, without buffing. Not the cheapest nail parlour, but the quality of Michelle's work was definitely worth it.

I'll definitely go to her for my next mani, and if she does colours really well too, then I'll have my go-to manicurist sorted.. at least until she moves salons!

The Nails Garden FB page

For things I want, but know not how to speak of

I yearn for things I know not how to verbalize.

Know not how to put in words. Know not how to untangle from the knot of my heart, of my desires.

Know not, dare not. Perhaps should not. Because, you know, it might jinx it.

Perhaps only if I'm able to define "it", in the first place.

But knowing not doesn't make me yearn any less.

Breathless

Breathless.

Thinking of you takes my breath away.

I love you.

There.
I've said it.

I love you
And it leaves me dazed, breathless and ever so giddy
How much I love you.

Get here quickly, love.
My breath, my love, my heart,
They are yours for the keeping.

Words, Wide Night

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us. I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this

is what it is like or what it is like in words.

~ Carol Ann Duffy ~

As Real As It Gets

You're not quite real to me yet.
Not yet.

But for now, you're as real as it gets.

And I know it is real because nobody in their right mind gets into a long-distance whatever-this-is just for kicks. Or curiosity. Or fun. Because not having you here is Not Very Fun, even if we have been having a smashing time so far.

I know you're real because I have a Happy Song of my very own to prove it!

But most of all, you're real because my happiness is Real.

May!

My heart feels ready to burst
With all the things I feel for you!

Happiness
Brightness
Laughter
Love

All at once explosive and exciting;
I want the world to see it!
And then again, warm and secret
Like a private giggle only I will ever know why for.

Here I Love You

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh, the black cross of a ship.

Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.

Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilight.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

~ Pablo Neruda ~
Here I Love You, 1959

You, Bloody Bus Number Twenty-Two

You!
You came out of the blue.
You, bloody Bus Number 22.
When here I was, content to wait for Number 57.

I thought I knew which way I was going
So sure of the road I wanted to travel
Even if it was only still in theory.
And so I was happy to wait for Number 57.

Then you came by
And showed me what your route might've been.
A tiny, tiny little peek at your sumptuous secrets,
And I wondered about Number 57.

What spirit you inspired,
What dreams you caressed,
What promises of delights you held,
And I wondered about Number 57.

Should I bide?
Should I take the risk?
Tempted was I, to take that step into the new unknown
And to forsake Number 57.

But before your doors even opened,
You pulled away.
And I was left with regrets
Of what never was
Of what might have been
Of, perhaps, my own imagining.

And I stood there,
Cold,
Wondering about you
Bloody Bus Number Twenty-two.

Truth

I wrote something today.

I wrote something wicked. 

I wrote something.. true. 

But I'm afraid of what the payment for that Truth will be.

You! You were but the briefest flicker in my life,

But a spark that flared bright. 

Irresistably bright.

You've inspired me to write again; did you know?

But right now, I'm not sure that is the best of things. 

How can it be that I miss you already, when I barely know you? 

But I do.

So very much.