The trivial post

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{Note: My new favourite word is Bum!}

Yes, I’m a bum for not writing anything for the past four weeks. Doesn’t sound that bad does it? Bum. It’s got that childish zeal to it. Apart from finding it amusing, I’ve found out that some might consider it trivial. Mr Potato head recently put in his two cents worth by telling me that I emotionally invest in “trivial things“. Not entirely false, I have my scrap books, posters, tissues,  toys that I’ve curated over the years, crap from the street, merchandise that I’ve won, clothes I’ve outgrown and the list goes on, but to call them ‘trivial’ is a bit appalling. For one it’s gut wrenching to even consider discarding one of those “trivial” things. I can’t emphasize enough on “trivial” as Mr Potato head deemed it.

The former roomie, who was all up in stitches.

The former roomie, who was all up in stitches.

What I collect has a certain emotion, a memory or bond that makes it important. So in short it’s got sentimental value, and it’s quite common for people to have objects and tokens of such value. I just have a lot more than usual, and this ‘lot more’ is only compared to the ‘little to nothing’ of sentimental value that everyone I know has. Although I think it’s justifiable to take a little offence from it being referred to as ‘trivial’.

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The Geller Flan recipe, I think Monica would be proud. *Kept an eye out for volleyballs*

Among my many fears, I fear losing memories of people, events and random thoughts. To me it’s all knowledge, and when I do interact with these ‘trivial’ objects, its similar to reading a book. It’s relays a story which helps me gather myself, to gather my thoughts, provide an escape and well some of them are just to entertain. As sometimes, situations and circumstances lead to certain tweaks within myself that I just don’t agree with. These ‘trivial’ things are a constant, much like Mr Potato head is and they help reorient myself when I’m lost.

*I have no clue why my hands are shimmying in front of me*

In other non essential news, I whipped out a decent flan. Just like my rule on eating cake, it didn’t have to be someone’s birthday to have some flan. Although… it was my former roomie’s birthday last week, and I shut down all requests from our gang to get him cake as he recently had surgery on his gums. I assumed he was on an all liquid diet due to the stitches and he confirmed . Turns out he lied about the severity of stitches as he could eat some soft food i.e. cake. I got a tan from the glare everyone gave me, thankfully the beer tower stole their attention. Obviously I wanted dessert first, as it was the only interesting part of the menu, and now that I think about it, I did order a cake. A chocolate lava that was set on fire. It’s dawned on me that the birthday boy did blow the fire out, so he did get cake on his birthday. It’s been a good week, although I do look forward to Mr Potato head, who against all odds is flying in to meet me. How exciting is that?

P.S. – This was supposed to be up last week. My bad.

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