a week's worth of thoughts

One year and eleven months today.

One more month to two years. And my longest lesbian relationship ever. Of course, nothing beats having the longest relationship with the girl I really love with everything in me.

That is my first thought. That a month later, we will be celebrating our two year anniversary (albeit one week later), because I can only apply for work leave at the end of April, and then I'll fly there to spend a week with her. Hello, it is our two year anniversary! It is a huge thing for both me and her.

On the same topic, I read something this week that stated that lesbians/gays are mostly employed in the civil service sector here. In other words, government agencies still practise discreet employment with little/no discrimination. That is heartening to know. Of course, the media industry, too, does employ many homosexuals. That just got me thinking -- I am not exactly working in the media industry nor strictly speaking in the civil service sector. I am still employed, though. How's that.

On another thought, some time this week I suddenly got to thinking about how I understand, now, why some working couples suddenly lament the way their sex life has disappeared. It is physically and mentally exhausting, waking up early to go to work and then coming back all tired. It is no wonder some working couples lose their sex life.

But. Please note that I use the word "some". This is because, as exhausted as I am, it does not apply to me. Yes, my woman is not in the same country as me, but both she and I know that we aren't too tired to have sex. To talk about having sex. To talk about making love. Oh, when it comes to making love -- before we got together almost, about 3 years ago, I remember joking with her that we would have the most fantastic, marvelous, mind-blowing sex ever. And what do you know? That is so true.

Anyway. On another coherent thought. I find myself being able to sing an increasing amount of foreign language songs -- songs that are in the language that my woman, my lady, my baby knows how to speak (although she cannot speak it that well). But it is starting to be surprising, how I know how to sing that many songs that are sung in her national language.

The funny thing is that almost a quarter of my iPod songs are in that language, and now I know why she was so shocked when I could sing an entire song to her in her country's language. I know this because I realise that I am starting to sing more foreign language songs while I am at work.

And then. One of my other thoughts this week was that I am really anal when it comes to speaking or writing the English language. I suddenly thought of that because I have been attending countless meetings for the past three weeks, and each time, I find myself quietly getting irritated or annoyed at the poor grammar and vocabulary used during meetings.

One time, I even found myself secretly giggling and trying to hide it, because the guy's English was so poor I could not understand a word of what he was saying, and he sounded like he was telling a joke, when he was not. I kept wanting to laugh, and it made me want to cough, which ended up in me excusing myself to apparently use the washroom, when all I wanted to do was to laugh.

The English that is spoken is not the only thing. The written makes me laugh too. At times, some things have to be written on the main board in the meeting room. After it has been written, I find myself silently correcting the grammar that is being used. It is funny. The thing is, my boss and everyone else I work with have come to know, in the short span of 3 weeks, that I have the better (and if I could say so, the best) standard of English there, and so, now that the FY is coming to a close and annual reports are due, it is me who is doing the editing of the annual report. Great.

Anyway, so, to close this week's thoughts, I just have one grievance. I simply cannot and do not want to understand how the mind of some commuters on the train works. Is there something about picking your nose in public that I do not know about? Is it more enjoyable to pick your nose in public, or is it a fetish that some commuters have? Isn't there this idea of perhaps manners? Of perhaps not being so rude and disgusting?

This guy who was sitting right at the opposite end of me on the train was so happily picking his nose throughout the 20 minute train ride. And I mean continously. He just wouldn't stop, no matter how I stared. He picked the right, and then the left nostril, and then the right again. And it goes on. It got to the point where he kept digging and picking for the treasure or some precious gold that was in his nostril, that I could literally see the movement of his finger from the external of his nose.

To make things worse, after picking his reward out, he proceeded to flick it on the train. Flick. And because he was sitting on the last seat which had a glass panel next to it, those disgusting yucky boogers had no where to go but either the glass panel or the seat next to him. And he kept right on flicking. I could not take it, and before leaving the train, I just had to tell him off. Although I don't think he heard a single word I said. These people, I really cannot tolerate.

Anyway, to conclude my week's worth of thoughts -- the one constant thing I keep thinking about this week is what I am gonna do when I fly over to see my woman. I keep looking forward to it -- hanging out with her, being with her, touching, kissing making love to her -- I just can't wait. It is the thing that keeps me going even when I am extremely tired at work. A month from now, during end April, I'll be there for a week. I just can't wait.

One year and eleven months today.

I love you baby.