Wishful thinking. Shopping spree. Momentarily transforming yourself into an impulsive daredevil. Not my thing. Many succumb. But not me. Except for books, music, pens, papers, art supplies, a gossip magazine, and a present for thee.
Showing posts with label home economics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home economics. Show all posts
15 February, 2007
Wishful Thinking
Wishful thinking. Shopping spree. Momentarily transforming yourself into an impulsive daredevil. Not my thing. Many succumb. But not me. Except for books, music, pens, papers, art supplies, a gossip magazine, and a present for thee.
07 January, 2007
Off To Work Again
My two-and-a-half-week vacation is quickly drawing to an end. What a relaxing time this has been. What a joy just to live each day a moment and mood at a time.
I’ve come to the realisation that a non-planned, unscheduled vacation is the ultimate in vacation. Inwardly and outwardly I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. Well, since last summer when I also just went with the flow (here).
The last days have past in a blur of collage making. The following is the first draft of a collage a friend asked me to make. She wants to print it onto linen and place it in her sewing room.
Yes, I know someone who can sew. A novel concept in this time and age.
In my early high school years, we had a subject called home economics. The girls received instruction in cooking, sewing, and learning to type. The boys learnt car mechanics and welding.
I might not have known at that time what I wanted to be as an adult, but instinctively I knew it wasn’t a housewife or secretary. So, as a result, I refused to learn anything in home economics. How short-sighted this was of me.
Much to my surprise, years later, after giving up my ballet career and finishing my electrical engineering studies, I found out that learning to type with ten fingers is a pretty useful task to know. My first job was programming (i.e. typing) quality control tests on large electronic equipment. I spent eight hours a day typing in computer code. Admittedly, a very tedious job; yet, it was made even more tedious because I could only use three our four fingers to type.
Eventually, I learnt to type “blind” (i.e. not looking at the keyboard) and with all ten fingers. There is nothing that impresses people more than when they walk into my office and I look up at them and continue typing what I am writing until I finish the sentence. It’s on parallel to someone riding a bicycle with no hands.
I’ve come to the realisation that a non-planned, unscheduled vacation is the ultimate in vacation. Inwardly and outwardly I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. Well, since last summer when I also just went with the flow (here).
The last days have past in a blur of collage making. The following is the first draft of a collage a friend asked me to make. She wants to print it onto linen and place it in her sewing room.
Yes, I know someone who can sew. A novel concept in this time and age.
In my early high school years, we had a subject called home economics. The girls received instruction in cooking, sewing, and learning to type. The boys learnt car mechanics and welding.
I might not have known at that time what I wanted to be as an adult, but instinctively I knew it wasn’t a housewife or secretary. So, as a result, I refused to learn anything in home economics. How short-sighted this was of me.
Much to my surprise, years later, after giving up my ballet career and finishing my electrical engineering studies, I found out that learning to type with ten fingers is a pretty useful task to know. My first job was programming (i.e. typing) quality control tests on large electronic equipment. I spent eight hours a day typing in computer code. Admittedly, a very tedious job; yet, it was made even more tedious because I could only use three our four fingers to type.
Eventually, I learnt to type “blind” (i.e. not looking at the keyboard) and with all ten fingers. There is nothing that impresses people more than when they walk into my office and I look up at them and continue typing what I am writing until I finish the sentence. It’s on parallel to someone riding a bicycle with no hands.
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