I Guess I Have to Start Somewhere…

This has to be a short one. It’s the starter & I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing here.
Introductions: This is a personal space, with a window for the world to look in. But above all, it will be me, uncensored and raw, just the way I am in my own head.
It says Notes from Saturdays because there’s this tiny window of time on a Saturday morning or early afternoon, when I feel this life is mine & I have all the time in the world for myself to do ANYTHING. & that’s when I usually write. The rest of the week, I bottle it up. I get too busy existing externally.

P.S. The image belongs to "Notes from Saturdays". You can contact through the comment box if you wish to copy/download.

Comments

Office Shorts #2

Incoming email: Hi A, Thanks for the responses. I’ve given the matter a bit of thought and can’t reach a definite conclusion based on the information. I think it’s worthwhile having a quick workshop to clarify a few questions I’ve added in red. Can you all please confirm your availability this afternoon at X:30. X:30 pm (Joining the Teams meeting of 8): -Hello. X+1:15 pm (Unmuting, muting, unmuting): -No, that was on Level 10 but yes, fairly s... (interrupted by Bob from Christchurch) X+2:30 pm -Thanks everyone. Bye. (Sigh, removes headset like a torture device)

The weekly record of not much

There’s this thing S and I do where we post photos on Sunday nights every week to record the year. Every weekend I look at my phone gallery and there are 56 photos of stuff on site, 1 or 2 of food, maybe a page of a book, my legs in front of TV. Not much really. So on Saturday or Sunday I force myself to go for a walk after work, just so I have an image of something other than working and eating. I believe the weekly record has served its purpose. I find it sad on an inspirational level. But so very true.

Plan for One

I simply cannot run without distraction. It’s so utterly boring and torturous that I have to listen to something interesting or else I won’t last more than 3k. That’s how I ended up listening to Edith Wharton’s “Mrs Manstey’s View” last weekend, thumping away on the treadmill. It was a very curious coincident considering what was going on in my own life. The story is truly heartbreaking. Mrs Manstey has spent the last 17 years of her life in a 3rd floor room of a boarding house in New York. She’s an old widow with few visitors and is too frail to venture out anymore. So she spends her days sitting at her one window looking out to the neighbourhood. It’s not a striking view; small untidy gardens and occasional appearances of the house occupants and their servants at their windows. Mrs Manstey had never been an awfully sociable person and the window seemed to provide just enough entertainment. Until one day, the neighbouring boarding house owner decides to build an extension that w...

Notes from Saturdays

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