I am really not that fond of gingerbread, despite that the Indian Teh Halia (ginger tea) is one beverage that I like to a certain extent. I don’t dislike it but it isn’t something that ranks extremely high on my “like-to-eat” list yet each year I never fail to buy at least one gingerbread man. I bought a couple from Starbucks during the Christmas preview in Singapore, and gave them to two of my friends, since there were two in the pack. After that, I haven’t gotten anymore of them because I didn’t really want to eat them. It is always a weird thought that I have, thinking how masochistic it is, to break off the limbs one by one, devouring the bread that actually bears a smiling face. But I still decided to buy one when I walked into a Starbucks store in Moscow one afternoon. It was a rather large piece, and costly as well, hmm, well things in Moscow are generally pricey, and by far I think it is the most expensive Starbucks I have ever stepped foot into.
I didn’t eat it right away but popped it into my bag, and by the time I called it a day at work and went back to the hotel room, this was what happened to Gingy, the name given affectionately to all gingerbread men, after some movie I watched. This sight that greeted me truly made me upset. I don’t know why, but I have a propensity to get upset at really trivial things, and at the same time, very small things can lift my mood miraculously. I guess maybe this is what some people would term as extreme mood swings, but with external factors that can tip the balance so easily.
Monday is over. It passed alright, but just that inside I wasn’t feeling that great. Yet… it shall stay there. It is hard to find a confidante sometimes, not that I think I can’t find people to talk to who will keep what I tell them to themselves, but rather, talking requires chemistry too. Not everyone can be a good listener, or a good partner to talk to. This I should know, since I love talking so much and have talked my fair share all these years. Maybe it is time to stop. I am so tired.