Typical Tuesday

Waking up to a sunless sky can be very discouraging. To see grey rather than yellow, and to hear the drizzle spitting on leaves outside my window rather than the chirping of little, brown birds can set a totally different mood usually expected from a typical Tuesday morning. The sound of my brother's alarm goes off at 6 in the morning. He's not one to waste hours of the day and I'm not one to wake up before dawn. He and I are quite different. His white, chinese, and pudgy appearance is nothing compared to my brown, smoldering good looks. Oh, and I like to make jokes (if you can tell) while he likes (or is forced to like) to be the butt of jokes. That's life, I'd tell him whenever he'd complain to my mom about me being an older brother, live with it. Then he'd run off to get his iTouch just to brag and taunt at my second hand iPod nano. Yes, I'm, for lack of a better word, a cheapo. I took my brother's nano the day he got his brand new iTouch. My old iPod wasn't working anymore and I wasn't in the mood to spend my money. See. Cheapo. Did I mention that he's 8 years younger than me? It's sad that a difference in a mere decade can produce a different strain of "spoiled". Papa I want an iTouch. And boom, it's a week's worth of bragging to me from him. Delightful. Don't care. I don't claim to be a modest, little, fluffy creature frolicking in the meadow of childish turkish delight and humble rays of golden-boy sunshine with disney-style bird-singing in the background, but I'm not THAT spoiled. (Excuse the overly described sentence, there's' something about falling asleep to black and waking up to grey that gets on my nerves). Anyway, today, classes were cancelled and I don't have the house to myself. Bummer. As if the sound of millions of droplets of water falling on tiled roofs (which should come another day or even better, never, 'cause people are suffering you bastard. Juan you are a bastard) isn't noisy enough.

I guess it's just one of those days. One of those days wherein the mustard is extra pungent and the portobello mushroom burgers don't taste as good. Had burgers for lunch today and it was just alright, and not all right. Days when the beautiful sizzling sound of pouring white wine over caramelized onions just don't do much. No excitement of taste buds, nothing. Eating a supposedly fantastic burger became a monotonous mechanical routine. Bite. Chew. Up and down. Drink water. Bye. Off to "rant" about today. Just one of those days. Of course, today was just an extension of yesterday's oddity. A good friend of mine invited me to do some laps with him at the club. I asked who else was going. He said his girlfriend (but all I heard was YOUR EX) is going. I asked why and he said 'cause she (again, I heard YOUR EX) wants to watch him swim. I laughed. He laughed. End of conversation. Grey. Not black. Not white. Grey. Don't worry, I'm over it. Not numb towards it, just bridge under the water and not water under the bridge (can't do much to change it either way). Definitely not defeated, just irritated. I'm fine. The mustard at lunch today was dijon and the burger patties were hand-made by mama.

Piss of brother extended the bidet out of the bathroom and decided to spray me. He's going to get it from me later. Older brother always wins. Another victory for older brother is with Little Bee. It has lots of "unsaid things". Sak2. I guess the weather makes it even more enjoyable to read. I have this spot in the house where I like to read and no one goes there. It's that living area where nobody really "lives" in. Most of the time, they walk down the stairs and head straight for the kitchen.

I sit on this cushioned whicker chair with my back against an opened window and my feet up on a coffee table, and read. Dad asked if I planned on going out today. I said no. He said oh, and left perplexed. Yes, at home I don't normally show if I'm feeling white, black, or grey (and no racist jokes please, though it is quite tempting). I just be. And they let me be. And then there's a bee (HAHAHA couldn't help it). Me not going out is me not being my(old)self. They'll get used to it. For fuck's sake I should get used to it. Oh, today's the day I decide to quit smoking. Done.

Typical Tuesday is just so grey. I'm looking forward to the best that ALWAYS comes after the worst. This may seem like a rant, but I think otherwise. Rants are whiny. This is different. I'm not whining, just thinking out loud. I am aware, and quite frankly, lucidity is power. Grey, black, white - they don't matter if you can't distinguish one from the other. I don't see a puddle of blur. I see each droplet of drizzle clearly. Cliche. Whatever. Victory. All right and not just alright.