It’s amazing how much less items I carry around in my bag compared to the ladies who answered the “bag tag”. I do not think I even need to put up the little numbered circles and create a list explaining all the items, here - see for yourself.

Most of the time I only have my cell phone, wallet, and tissues as key elements. Then the variables come in and they are usually; keys,book,camera,etc. It’s awkward really comparing the contents of my bag to all the ladies’, but this means I can do with any size of bag and this is definitely a plus.

For a bit of history, this bag in the picture was my mother’s. It’s over 25 years old and I love it like no other. Exotic and personal- just the way I love them.

The story behind this story is somewhat entertaining. I wrote this following story, The party people, in half an hour for the final examination of my creative writing class. The task specified in the exam was to “describe a party scene in detail, going in and out of your characters’ minds” - or something to that effect (I do not have the exam paper on me at this moment, did I ever mention that I collect them papers? loads upon loads of them?).

Since I do not appreciate drafts, or use them for that matter, I wrote the story and submitted it as is. I usually write and submit/publish instantly, and I rarely if ever change anything in the “completed piece” because when I finish pouring my thoughts I would have had just enough of them and would not want to read them too soon. Question: Is that abnormal?

At any rate, the story had a nice ending, one that I cannot entirely remember. This story is about the party crowd, in all its “phoniness” and shallowness. You see Jill and Mike together, who are the main characters, portraying a “good couple” image while each is having private thoughts which are extremely contrastive to each other. She thinks he’s nice while he’s faking it. The “twist” at the end, that I cannot bring myself to write at this time, is when one of Mike’s friends tells Jill ” Don’t worry honey, we won’t judge you” - after, of course, having judged her already.

Enjoy…hopefully.

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The spacious hall is bustling with people; some standing, some sitting and others swaying to the music while trying to sip on a lime-green liquid. The feature almost dominant in the scene, and which everyone adores, is the large, silver disco ball hanging from the ceiling. It adds a unique retro taste to the place and definitely helps joy-fakers fake some more.

With walls painted soothing blue, the open bar in the far right corner seems like a long-lost island. A Mecca for the thirsty and the naughty alike.

What with the revealing outfits, the fits of hysterical laughter, and the crazy atmosphere of dancing mindlessly, someone was bound to drop their glass because, you know, it’s not a party until something gets broken.

- “Oh my god! I just dropped my glass in front of all these people. Now they’re going to really think I’m so drunk”, Jill thinks to herself. “I’m terribly sorry”, she announces aloud, “really, I am”.
Her companion, Mike, tries to calm her frenzy.
- “It’s O.K. Nobody saw that”. He says.
-” Oh! They all think I’m drunk, don’t they?”
He thinks “I’m one of them!”, but says “No, they don’t. You’re overreacting. It’s just a party, so what if you dropped your glass, relax.”

-” Mom would be so proud of me if she sees me now like this. Oh my god!”. Jill goes on. “He’s such a nice guy”, she says to herself.
-”This is not right. This is so not right. I’m stuck with- with this drunken psycho”, Mike almost whispers.
-” Come again?”
-”I was just saying we need to get you another refreshing drink, and the party over there. Hey guys!”. He waves at a group of guys and girls at some table.

Jill feels flattered that he wants to introduce her to his crowd, little does she know.
-” I’ll go get another drink. I’ll join you at the table,” she tells him.

Mike, now with his friends, proceeds to telling them about his absent partner: “She’s been drinking non-stop ever since we got here. I think she has a problem, she couldn’t even keep on to her glass! Impossible!… Oh here she comes.”

-”Jill, this is Martha, Allison, Pat, and Ed. Everyone, this is Jill”.
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Joe, of Joe Cartoon, after dubbing a cartoon “Goanna Humpah” and featuring the now-deceased Aussie naturalist, mourns Steve Irwin - in his own way.

I have just found my muse, I believe…

What I am experiencing at this minute, as I type these words, is exquisite - it is of satisfaction still unachieved but oh, so near, and it is of accelerating beauty and of a divine nature. I cannot quite tell what it is, there are no words befitting this sensation.

A little less than a month ago I decided to follow my bliss, as Campbell put it. I stayed up until all night was consumed, listening to Campbell talk of love and divinity and great myths - truly phenomenal. A gift from overseas sent by a person I have never met ,as token of a friendship that has grown and grown, this gift had me stay up all night, one summer’s night, and it urged me to focus on what really matters to me - my bliss.

Then as I have always known, the pre-hero has to die to the world as it knows him, to be resurrected as a true hero. All in the name of bliss and in all great myths alike. I am no heroine, my life is not a myth, but I am hunting for my bliss. Of course, I could be a heroine, this could be a myth, but there would still be bliss to be sought after.

Sometimes when I am inspired I lose my touch with the physical world, even words do not come to me. I float, dip, dive in a state of absolute ecstasy and only this can help me to that sublime level. In this very instance I am fighting an undeniable urge to pour out my stream of consciousness, as I trust nobody would understand my stream of consciousness and I disliked The Portrait of The Artist As a Young Man.

Beh. Very few understand this.

I am going downtown this evening to roam the streets and look for antiques. I intend to spend money on things useless in every aspect but in appealing to me, that is their prime function. My room is Japanese akasen meets style-lacking minimalism, and that has got to change. I am most inspired by a certain someone’s flat and I plan on indulging in this moment’s fantasy that maybe I can turn my room into something remotely alluding to that flat, in spirit not style.

I am staying up late at night to write. Last night I wrote two passages only after juicing my brain for two hours - quite distressing. This is promising though, two passages are better than none…but really, I am not an optimist supreme. Quite frankly I do not write out of optimism, my statement is not all too positive, I daresay it is not even real.

Do not ask what that means - I think the stream is flowing.

This morning as I watched Tsuki-san lick himself, I wondered with what face would I meet a certain someone who has given me two novels written by an Italian Jew to read, well over four months ago. I have not touched the two books…They lurk in my drawer virgin, what am I going to say this time? That I was too busy? That I had no mood to read? That I was busy deciding how to follow my bliss? I can picture the dissatisfied look on his face, and I cannot convince it away.

I ended up buying myself Sophie’s World after all two days ago, but it must wait for now. I am engaged to Plato, although he is not entirely my type of fellow. I do fancy his dialogues, however, but is that ever enough? It’s page 42, out of 368 pages, that I am frozen at. What with the construction of argument, and the various points of view, and the messages I keep getting on my cell phone, and my own arguments with Plato; I am frozen at page 42.

When I am inspired certain music does not agree with me. Sometimes the slightest sound does not agree with me, sometimes just some songs by a certain singer don’t agree with me. This is how illusive and demanding my muse is, my mother once thought it a devil.

Now I just want an old radio.

I admit it, I am a little late. The International Blog Day was August 31st but I was engaged with so many events that day that I could not celebrate one more thing.

I owe Teo all the information I have about this day. What you basically have to do is link to five blogs you like and read often, and write a little about them. It’s a move to promote your favorite blogs or blogs you think deserve to be read.

My list:

1- Il cuoco d’artificio

This is Teo’s blog, he’s an Italian chef in Parma. He runs a game every now and then on his blog, asking his readers to translate a recipe he posts in a foreign language. I got tipped about this by Topozozo (I recommend Topozozo as well - great guy and a great friend) , and I miraculously won something for the first time in my life! Look here for details.

2- Natalie Dee: Huffing it up, every weekday.

This is one of the most creative sites/blogs I have ever come across. Natalie Dee adds one drawing a day,and her drawings are simple but impressive. She has a blog section in the site as well. You must visit Natalie Dee.

3- Alb Sayed

A brilliant blog by an Egyptian living in the US. This is a great moderate voice that we need to hear more often. Alb Sayed does not like exposure, but this is not entirely about what he likes, now is it? I recommend his blog to everyone. His views make sense and make you think.

4- The Black Iris

A Karaki blog that is also moderate, reasonable, and speaks to your mind. I enjoy the Black Iris tremendously and I have no doubt you will.

5- The cabinet of Miss R.

As announced “A Compendium of Sorts”, I adore this blog. The design and theme are engaging, and the pictures are beyond captivating.

One last thing remains to be said about celebrating this International Blog Day, you need to send an e-mail to each author of each blog you list and to notify them. I think this is a good idea. I received an e-mail this morning from Deb, who lives in Israel and has just linked to my blog. Fun, no?