I'll be pushing off during summer, which is not really THE season here on the island, but then it does get a bit too pesky to handle, so I'll be checking up on you guys from time to time and I'll post some pics...as they come.
Oh, and by the way, I'M NOT MISSING YOU YET....BUT I WILL!
Have a good one!
Taken from Sheila's and Saber's blog
Was it yesterday that I mentioned in my blog: 'Enough is enough' / this is starting to sound real creepy.....
Colorgenics
http://www.paulgoldin.com/colorgenics.htm
You are a very sensitive person and you try hard (perhaps a little too hard) to make favourable impressions and to be recognised by your peers. But you have that inherent need to feel appreciated and admired and you are easily hurt if all of your endeavours go by unappreciated or not acknowledged. Stop trying so hard.
In actual fact you are not willing to exert yourself in any way. You have that truly 'laid back' attitude and are unwilling to extend yourself or exert undue effort. You feel that to move forward - be it in your life style or in business relationships - would require more energy output than you are prepared to give at this time. You want to take life easy and your attitude is such that 'Enough is Enough'.
Matters are not progressing as well as you would have hoped and you are having to make concessions - but you still believe that your goals are realistic it's just that people can't seem to see your point of view. You know what you want but you'll only accept suggestions under duress.
You are frustrated and stressed. You appreciate the finer things in life but at all times you appear to stay aloof, critical of everything and everyone about you. You will not be carried away by your emotions and you refuse to trust anyone or any situation unless genuineness and integrity can be absolutely vouched for. Therefore, you keep a strict and watchful control on your feelings as you must know exactly where you stand at all times. You demand complete sincerity as a protection against your own tendency to be too trusting.
You are being very dogmatic, insisting that there is to be absolutely no equivocation whatsoever about your achievements and accomplishments.
It was five to three. Still. Lia wondered if she was in the Twilight Zone because no matter how often she looked at the alarm clock, the time seemed to change with brain-numbing slowness. Not looking at it was obviously the answer. She sat up in the bed, shook her pillow around a bit and sank back down on to the cool side of the bed, determined not to look at the time. Four minutes to three winked the luminous numbers on the clock.
Lia felt like crying. She was exhausted and yet she couldn't sleep. The memory of her best friends weary face, Samantha, earlier that day, kept running through her mind. Sam, as she called her, and Stephen, Lia and Zack, an ill-fated foursome and their problems. And Gregory. No matter how she tried to wrench him from her mind, he was still there. Smiling wolfishly at her, eyes caressing her in a way Zack's never did.
Shit. She sat up again, feverish and furious. She had to stop thinking about bloody Greg. It was positively sickening. His presence loomed over her even when she was in bed, never mind what it did to her when she was up. Since, she'd met him, eight months ago, or was it nearly a year now, but definitely eight months since something clicked, he was everywhere: grinning at her, taunting her, eyebrows raised in amusement as if he could see the effect he was having upon her. It was no use trying to sleep. She might as well get some hot soy milk and read.
Trying no to think how shattered she'd be after a sleepless night, Lia warmed some soy milk and brought it up to bed. Propped up with pillows, she picked her book up and tried to read. Even that didn't work.
The dashing South American polo player in Venetia's Voctory reminded her of Greg; he had the same glinting eyes, the same devil-may-care-attitude. Every time the polo player crushed Venetia to his chest with his powerful mallet-wielding arm, Lia could see herself being crushed against Greg. She threw the book down in disgust and rummaged through her bedside locker for a replacement. Her friend Sam adored blood, gore and serial killers and had been trying to get Lia read one for years. Lia had resisted until now because she hated the thought of reading about murderers preying on vulnerable women before she went to sleep. Strangely enough, the idea seemed very appealing now. Surely an axe murderer would be able to get Greg out of the picture?
By five-thirty, she was a serial thriller convert - and very, very tired. How come you can only sleep when morning is lurking around the corner? she thought exhaustedly, sinking her head on to the pillow as the birds began to sing energetically outside the window.
They appeared to be singing the same song when the alarm clock erupted with the awful salsa show at seven-fifteen. It seemed that at the same time as it erupted , her hand smashed back and silenced it forever, and at that exact instant she made a decission, it was enough, it was actually more then enough. For the past month or so, she was helping Greg, the man she so loved, save his marriage, and ruine her life, with dignity and respect. Was she supposed to feel proud and happy about it? At first , she did, but then hearing his weekly resume of his improving life, it made her sick. She gave up on him, as she did on most of the things in life that mattered to her. For what? Was it because she cared more, or was it because she was a good person? She wasn't sure of either, anymore, what she knew was that once she faced the future, she had some big steps ahead of her, and they needed her clear mind and no fantasy world.
Did she know this a year ago, or eight months ago? Or is there a reason and time for everything in life. Well if there was a reason to start this eight months ago, there sure is a reason to stop it NOW.
Lia got out of her bed, feeling the cold floor beneath her bare feet, made it to the kitchen and sank in one of the chairs. Through her mind, the past months moved as flashes of lightnings and thunderstorms. She instantly ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it up in a pony -tale. Then she looked through the window at the blue clear skies, she got up and stood by the window, leaning her head on her arms while she watched through the pine trees all the way to the ocean and that imagionary line where the ocean met the horizon. Suddenly there was no feeling of fear of waking up without hope, or having nothing to look forward to. Maybe it was just good enough being alive. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Enough was enough and it was such a beautiful day to look forward to...even her sun-burned shoulders looked nice after aloe had eased the pain. Yes, she thought, there was no more pain, and life isn't that bad after all. Why didn't she think of aloe a couple of months back...was it aloe or was it her?
As she threw the soy milk in the bin and fetched a clean cup for her morning coffee, she said to herself:
-' I'll think about it, tomorrow'.
