Homeland.

"I like it when life is like that. Heightened, somehow."

Didn't expect this show to be so damn good.

Damn you, Showtime, for your Homeland marathon!

Plans deferred.

We had great plans to visit the pumpkin patch and go apple picking today -- and we still may later today -- but the Fiancé's immune system finally broke down and he caught this weeklong cold I've been carting around with me.

So what does this girl's guilty conscience do? Why, try her hand at making congee, of course. It turned out quite well for a first-timer.

I initially used the rice cooker but the rice came out, well, like rice. So I transferred it to a bigger pot and filled it with water. I then threw in two frozen fillets of tilapia and a fistful of corn and green peas, and let it cook for an additional 30 mins or so.

Can you tell I had no idea what I was doing? The porridge turned out to be delightfully yummy, with just the right consistency the second time around. It was also slightly bland, but nothing a little soy sauce and fresh black pepper couldn't fix.

While I was slaving away in the kitchen this morning, a friend whom I've worked with texted me a photo of business books. Apparently he thinks of me as a "power woman".

Little does he know that I was playing housewife-in-training this morning. What can I say? I'm a "Kim"eleon! ;)

For longer than forever.

I'll hold you in my arms.

Just noticed.

That the four most frequent tags on my blog are

(as displayed on the right-hand side of my page):

 

- random thoughts

- life

- personal growth

- love 

 

Yup, that's about right. 

 

I present to you: Ponderings in a Pod, redux.

Blurred.

I had a dream recently where I was stuck in this pink house, trying to escape.

I finally did, but realized I had a small boy with me. I ran and ran from an invisible entity behind me, and without looking back, I threw the boy to safety ahead of me. I screamed out to the blurred vision of a crowd on the other side.

Then I woke up. The frantic panic is still with me.

Love list.

Right now:

*Fall

*Fall colors

*cashmere cardigan

*sweater weather (...sweather?)

*well-worn leather riding boots

*wake-up hugs

*morning kisses

*sunlight streaming in through the curtains

*unlimited Japanese green tea

*French crepes

*outdoor dining

*women helping women

*the power of words

*the promise of amazing weekend plans

I love making lists.

I love making love lists even more.

Hyper with words.

I've long self-diagnosed myself with hypergraphia - the overwhelming, compulsive urge to write. 

My writing patterns as an adult mimic my writing patterns as a child - where I once kept multiple diaries and secret journals with pen and pencil to paper, I now log in and type out my thoughts or advice on various online platforms.  The only difference now is that I no longer look over my shoulders to see whether my mother is reading my musings or not without my permission.  

I'm not deluded enough to believe any of what I write is brilliant - not in the least.  Half of the time, it doesn't even make much sense, and the paragraphs are often riddled with tangential overtures.  To be honest, they're generally mental, internal ramblings that I desperately need to get out of my system.  Sometimes, it's because it's, well, yugen.

But most of the time, I write to capture it all, and to look back on what once was and what could be or what could have been.  Isn't that the goal of many writers and bloggers these days, in this digital age?  To keep record; to keep tabs?  And, more so than to remember, to not be forgotten?

Neglect.

I've completely neglected this here blog.  But I don't know how to come back to it.

It's like asking for forgiveness, without having a clue whether you'll actually receive it or not.