Blurts

Are you a collector?

As I wandered around a beach today, adding to my collection of broken seashells (I love broken seashells. I just find them more beautiful and complex than the perfect ones.)
…I wondered, does anyone else in my circles collect something…quite odd or less usual than, let’s say, postal stamps?
Maybe…broken seashells or Tamagotchis?

(6 Tamagotchis isn’t really a collection, is it? It isn’t. I don’t collect Tamagotchis. I just have them. Yes. That’s it.)

On the Topic of Social Media

I’ve just fully deleted few accounts after testing for a few weeks of doing pretty much nothing on them, and nobody batting an eye about my absence — I see no need to maintain two or more separate presences in different places on top of Randomly Mad, since it makes no difference in perception. I mean — I’m already taking care of hosting here, so…why split my already sparse content among multiple places, especially since noone seems to care? (I have however immediately snatched back umabbas.tumblr.com url as it is impossible for me to share my internet persona, thank you very much. It’s mine. All mine.)

I wish there was an easy way of cleaning through one’s Facebook, as I want to keep it for easy logins, but would also like to, time to time, go back and remove posts that I deem irrelevant now. Alas, there is not.


I have a whole bunch of unfinished photographs waiting to be processed to .png and uploaded, and despite being busy with house and kids, I’d love to participate in this year’s entire inktober. I see my attendance skeptically, but one can always hope.

There’s only a barely palm sized notebook waiting to be filled, and that should hopefully allow me to finish the whole month, sketches being only the ink and quite small.

We shall see!

I could also absolutely forget it is October and be done with it — it wouldn’t be the first occasion of my sense of time getting all scrambled.

 

Instagram feed added, because reasons

Since I’m a total slack in updating these days…weeks…months…OK, years, I’ve added my Instagram feed on the top menu. In case someone still wanders around these digital pages, scouring for pictures.

I’m still taking my camera out on occasion, I’ve just been really horrible in actually getting it out over to the PC and converting it to a readable format; let alone uploading it on Flickr or here to slap it into a blog entry.

I apologize.

Anyway – Instagram feed this way.

Learning

I’ve been preoccupied lately with trying to resurrect my headspace into some semblance of life again, baby brain and all; and on a whim, I have picked up a handful of heavily discounted courses in C# coding and Unity programming on Udemy.

As I progress with the respective lessons, I’m thinking I’m just way over my head here, but hey, I can say I tried, right?

I’m in the slow and painful process of trying to piece together a simple match three game for mobiles (alongside an instructor, of course), so here’s hoping that at least something will come out of this silly endeavour.

There’s Six of Us Now!

Yes, it’s true!
I’ve been blessed by a fourth child, and a third daughter, on April the 8th in the evening. State hospital this time, the Al-Sabah Maternity Hospital in Shuwaikh – not something I’d love to repeat for sure, but nothing to spit at either. Very…medicated. But the staff was great.
Although, I’m kind of hoping that this shop is closed now – I am really, really bad at the baby stages, and I’ve grown too old to manage the hourly waking calls in the night now.
Like, really. I feel absolutely b-r-o-k-e-n every time LJ starts to whimper for food in the night. And she whimpers a lot.
I’ve decided to go full on formula this time around. The breastfeeding battle was short and painful (as it always is with me), and I’m still eaten away by mummy guilt; however for the sake of the (literal) sanity of me and the baby’s, it’s for the better. It just brings too much anxiety and depressive thoughs in my case, and I had quite enough of one battle with PND; no need for a repeat. It can get ugly.
Formula is expensive and fussier for sure…but happy mother, happy child, no?
I’d just be happy if random people stopped (both accidentaly and on purpose) guilt-tripping me about it.