Head On Straight.

Thank God for people like Yoel. I don't think I would have taken the plunge without him. And now that I've done it, I realised how liberated I feel.

G Star Raw! No less.

It wasn't just a pair of denim jeans. It was a statement. It was me saying, I'll spend what I earn because I no longer can plough along saving for something that I can't have. It's me saying, I'll live now, regardless of anyone. I don't think I've ever spent so much on myself in one shot. And strangely, it feels REALLY GOOD.

Yeah, if I get found out I'll probably set off another string of "boundary" incidents. But hey. It's time to let go, baby. I've got nothing to lose no more.

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Guy Kawasaki said pitching was about creating meaning. An insurance company sells care, not policies. Clothes sell identity, not modesty. Dome? Dome sells false wealth, and certainly not clean plates.

Nevertheless, a sticky trail of people-based stories emerge from the workers and the customers. Some are sad, frail, and others push forth life where no bud should have emerged, claiming victory in life's smallest ways, which are often most important. Me? Although I struggle in my own ways their are not half as interesting as the things I meet in the cafe as I work.

Thus, in the midst of angst, one must be thankful for creativity. I am pleased to refer the following anecdotes to he who is most in need of heart's ease.

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She comes in everyday, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. Her face betrays a child-like innocence, although her skin screams her age. She orders the same thing everytime, a pineapple juice, no ice. She wants it on the spot. Today she also orders a white toast with marmalade and a long black. She has company. When the coffees go out, I see the man with her- similarly greyed and frail, as if they had been aged in the same way, by the same things. His eyes are sad as he looks at her; she isn't herself anymore these days. Every long-standing worker at dome knows this- a year ago she was very poorly, and her mind isn't what it used to be. I wonder why she comes to dome. Does this place remind her of something? She enjoys her meal. They leave, the cups and plates speak for themselves. No mess, no sign of frivolous pickiness. They have realised that it is too late for that sort of thing, all they have left is time, and each other. I recognise that same look of love in his eyes.