New Beginnings

Ill-fitting genes

2009-06-15T08:15:00.004-05:00

Ah ha, THERE you are! It seems like forever since I've seen you! Where have you been? Why haven't you been around lately?

Oh. Nothing to read. I hear you. It's been a bit quiet, huh? I was actually surprised when I logged in today *let me be honest here, I only logged in because I was trying to check my friend's blog* and I noticed the last thing I wrote was about me whining and waiting for spring break. And now, here I am -- two weeks or so into summer vacation already. So forget proper updates. I passed. I got awesome grades. My professors recommended me to be in the Scholars Program. I turned it down. Molecular biology sucked. But I don't have to do it again. I adopted a kitten named Zac. Husband got smashed in the face with a softball, almost requiring plastic surgery, daughter is amazing but I think is perhaps going through her early teenage years already, I'm going home in a little while to play with people I love ever so much, New York still sucks, but not quite as much, and if you need(ed) to know more, well, you should have emailed or spoken to me in that 3 month break. So there.

Last night I was thinking about the idea of journal writing. I always like the idea of a journal. They look pretty, it seems almost attractive to me, musing and writing while out in public, but confiding hidden thoughts to just a mere blank page, the book carefully set aside when the server brings your tea (or wine). But you know? When you read a journal, it just sounds so fake. So .... stupid. There. I said it. (Miss A thinks stupid is a cuss word, and continually refers to it as the S.T. word -- bless!!)

I mean, for real. It's not an accurate description of how a person thinks. If you are writing down how you are feeling in that moment, or what you are actually thinking about, you do not write in beautifully constructed sentences, flowing with perfect English -- a prose that rivals the great writers of the centuries. There is no real coherent nature of thought and no one, I swear, no one has their thoughts so well planned out that they can work in a manner of paragraphs!

Here is an example of how my journal would look like, given a topic of say -- leaving for Australia.

(First of all we can forget the "dear diary" as made famous by shitty movies. no one does that)

"So, here I am in the airport, about to go back home. is it home? where is home? did i kiss Zac when I left? Did I kiss miss A last or the cat last? Because that would suck if i kissed the cat last. ok. so going to the other home to see A and B. god i'm hungry. and this seat is hard. fuck im tired already. this guy next to me smells, he better not be anywhere NEAR me on the plane. i miss my babies, i can't wait to see them. i bet they smell great. i wonder how tall they are. fuck i hate certain people in my life. i think i hate this man next to me. hate is such a horrible quality. i am going to try and work on losing that. i wonder if my kids hate me? god i hope not. why do i say god when i dont even think there is a god. thats not true. i do. that rhymed. ha. oh juevenile.
anyway. im really going to enjoy this trip. no emotional wreckage. of course there will be. lets just leave it as 'minimalistic'. that's not bad. i think that girl over there should have taken a lesson in minimalistic when she put on that eye makeup....."

You see my point? No one really sits and thinks and is all, "Well, journal, it's just you, me and my clear, collective thoughts. What I really want from life is a healthy, happy flight. I am sure i will work through the emotional turmoil that this trip will .... blah... "See. I can't even do it. My head won't even go there. Unless you're telling a story, like I am now, I don't see how anyone can do it. If you're a journal writer, and you can, let me know. If you don't think journals sound freaking creepy or cheesy, let me know. AND if you have ever written a journal and gone back to it years later and NOT been embarrased, let me know.

With that out of the way, I'll get back to what I was going to write about (much to say?!) hah.

You ever realise that, genetically speaking, 'bad' genes are the ones we tend to notice more frequently? It seems as though it is rare for someone to compliment how someone else has excellent health because, say, their parent/s were always extremely healthy, or how they have fantastic eyesight for the same reason. Instead, we go to the Dr, and they want to know "does gluacoma run in the family? Cancer? Heart disease? Diabetes?"

I feel like what they are asking is, "are members of your family sick? sick? sick?"

I know medically there are predetermining factors, of course I am not stupid (gasp! the S.T. word!) Butthere are also environmental factors. I have no idea if cancer runs in my family -- what constitutes a 'run'. My grandfather died of cancer. But he was in his late 70's perhaps. That doesn't seem, I don't know, a medical anomoly. And it doesn't mean to say that I'm not more susseptible to it because of my environment. Or conversely, perhaps heart disease runs in my family (if it did, again.. i dont know?) because everyone ate diets high in saturated fat, smoked cigarettes, and did not exercise. It seems to me that if the medical doctors are going to ask questions about my genetics, and that of my family's, then they should be asking quetions about environment also.

I got a whole bunch of genes that aren't working out so well for me. But I refuse to let that determine my future. Or my childrens'.

Clearly I've got a lot on my mind this morning. I'll stop now, before I make you listen to a rant about Iran and dictatorship governments fixing elections.

You don't know how lucky you are!

Where's the time?

2009-03-22T14:15:00.004-05:00

Really... I'm hanging on until that elusive "spring break" that everyone around the world knows American college students equate with release, time, relaxation...drinking? killing brain cells?

All I am doing lately is Sleep. Study. School. It is awful! You know that plea "give me a life!" and when you get one, "give me a break!" -- well, that's me!

If I have to contemplate metabolic pathways, Krebs cycles, Acetyl CoA or glucose rings for much longer, I may just explode!

Look at me -- I'm reduced to writing one lousy, unstructured sentence at a time. Forgive me.

On the plus side, I'm avoiding study today by making my own granola. Healthy, hearty, wholesome, and almost all organic. Mmm.. mmm. Right now, my apartment smells like cinnamon, nutmeg, apples, nuts, oats, vanilla, seeds... even "she who has turned into 'I don't like that'"says she can't wait to try it! Yay for that, and yay for healthy food.

That's actually become my latest 'obsession'.. not that it wasn't before --but more so now. I've just been feeling so crap --lethargic, nauseous, even itchy!-- every time I eat processed food, that I really am avoiding anything that isn't more natural now. Even soaps. I guess I pump so many chemicals into my body with the Alice In Wonderland drugs, I need to make a little balance somewhere. The thing is.. I used to be like this, before I moved to the US. I just don't know how it happened to... I don't know... be sucked out of me. I guess when you're surrounded by, no -- engulfed by -- so many overprocessed products, and all so easily accessible, it's hard not to succumb to laxidaisal attitudes aswell. You have NO idea how 'out of the way' it is for me to find a health food store that stocks raw produce in bulk. AND a store that carries organic castile soaps. I don't know if it's because I am not accustomed to the area and the right 'places'... but my small little city back home was far more 'earthy' than here! But I found a great store, that stocks both, and while it's a bit of a drive, it makes me happy, and shiny, and very, very ... did I say happy? when I'm there!

Anyway... so better on the inside, getting back to the more 'natural' me... can't be so bad, right?

I just wish I could remember two things --

** I don't need toxic people in my life. really. And they don't need to know anything about my life.

** my biology notes.

///

my favourite quote from The Simpsons --

Lisa -- I'm so angry!!
Marge-- You're a woman, you can hold onto it forever...

mamma,, i want a sisterrrrrr

2009-02-06T21:41:00.003-05:00

So we were just coming home from a (great) night out at our favourite restaurant. I think I might have got food poisoning though. The jury is still out on that seafood. Anyway. I don't know how the subject got started, but Miss A was asking, in the car, about babies. Oh god, kill me now.

She asked how long we had known eachother before she was born ( was 15 months too disgusting to say?) ....and had asked whether you could choose the gender of a baby. Then she asked..

"who chooses whether you can have a baby or not"

we reply, "well, i guess, that's us"

her: "so. i want you to have a baby"

"uh, baby.. we have one. we love you."

Miss A, (determined), "no.... i want you to have a baby. i want a baby sister."

holy fuck. are you kidding me? this fucking discussion?

so we talk about how --

a) it might not be a sister
b) she might be sharing her room with a train loving, screaming, nightmarish, pooping fiend.
c) daddy won't even let us have a kitten. how in the hell will he let us have a kid.

I also said, (real quote)

" and what about mama's school, and then, work? who will look after the baby when i'm at school, hmn?"

Miss A, " you could have the baby in the summer. then you could take care of her then".

so fucking planned and matter of fact i want to choke.

we discuss how the world is already over populated, and how ....well.... yada yada.....mama has gorgeous kids....yada yada....

and she was still adament.

in the end, husband pulls up the car, sighing, and saying,

"look, we'll try, ok?"

i nearly fell out of the car laughing so hard i almost peed myself.

she, on the other hand, was very, very happy with the response.

sarcasm is totalllllly lost on a 6 year old.

A bit of advice...

2009-02-04T19:52:00.002-05:00

This past weekend Miss A was outside with her dad, learning to ride her bike without the training wheels. She has been too scared to do try, not to mention it's been winter ...and icy...so it's been a while since she has gotten on the ol' deadly treadly....

Next thing I hear is Miss A coming up the stairs crying her eyes out .... sigh..... I head for the band-aid basket. But no... no need to fix broken skin just yet...instead, she was having a major meltdown just at the mere idea of taking the protective, sturdy, balancing wheels off her bike. Following up the stairs, wrench in hand, the husband sighs, "will you tell her she won't die if I take them off?"

Or something like that....I couldn't quite hear over the sobs and heaves of the mortified six year old buried against my stomach.

Now. This is where I faced a dilemma.

What the hell am I meant to say to my daughter?

A.) yes, i have older children. no, i don't remember teaching them how to ride.

B.) my best friend in grade school taught me how to ride, when i was in .. what..4th-5th grade? Any advice she gave me, is not something I could pass on to my daughter. Plus. I didn't have training wheels. I had a sissy bar, and streamers.

SO. what to do. what to do.

I just started doing what I always do. I talked. Out of my...(ass?)....heart.

I told her about how we taught her how to walk. First holding her two little hands til she got her balance. Then we held one hand, and finally, one day, she was ready to let go and not hold any hands at all! I told Miss A it was just like getting rid of the training wheels... and if a baby could do it by letting go of a hand... then maybe a six year old could let go of a wheel... at least one....for now.

Miss A went downstairs, and the next thing I knew, they had gone completely around the block. One training-wheel free.

(Tear free also.)

Awww.... how freaking cute is that?

(it gets cuter)

I had put it out of my mind until later that night, when Miss A came up to me and said (verbatim), "Mum, thank you for that advice you gave me this afternoon. It really helped."

I wanted to eat her precious little face!

I didn't even see that what I was doing was giving advice. I was just talking. Telling her things that would help her understand. Ok, Ok, I know that's kinda what advice is.... but...

... I guess from my experience, I'm used to advice being 'loaded'... like, 'let me tell you this, based on what I think you should do or what suits my needs'.

This time, right in this moment, my daughter just listened, heard a story about something she used to do, realised she could apply the same principles to her life now, and went out and did it.

Holy shit this was an awesome moment.

Awesome.

(Next weekend she wants to try both training wheels coming off -- no prompting!)

Lost in the Music

2009-01-23T12:21:00.002-05:00

Well.. winter intersession is officially over. Whoot! I can, technically, write html/javascript codes. I also know the history behind the internet, world wide web, and I can even answer a question or two on Jeopardy! when DARPA is mentioned. Go me. In all reality, this is information that is taking up valuable space, soon will be stored away deep in the depths of the hollow caverns of my mind, never to see daylight again.

Where it should be.

To get me through this winter fun-factory of learning, I have been getting my groove on to some funky songs. There’s nothing like listening to some old favourites, discovering new tunes, or reminiscing on times past with lyrics, beats and groovy tracks. Want to hear what I hear?

(not the voices. they’re private ;-) )

(that was a joke… before you start getting all ….whatever.)

Get Your Groove On Here

ohhh. You know you love it. I know you are singing along to some of the songs. It’s ok. Dance along with me. Getting lost in the music is what sometimes gets me through the days. It’s therapy, all wrapped up in a chorus or two, with a delicate backdrop of piano or violin, or rampant drumming if you like.

There is nothing better.

Oh! Except this! We all know Monday is Australia Day, right? The day the white people came and stole the indigenous people of Australia's land, culture, social stratification, heritage, energy.....etc etc... (don't get me started)... but it's Australia Day after all... and it's time to move forward... if America can rise above slavery and elect Obama (oh man... don't get me started on that glorious event, either.....sigh!!!) into office.. then ... let's just say We As Australian's should be able to apologise, move forward and celebrate as One People.

And to celebrate...I am going here on Sunday (damn time zones) .. with little (pretend--not that crazy) flags tattooed on my face...and will enjoy the company of other Aussie ex-pats!

Oh-Yeah! BBQ...beer...two-up...everything but bikini's, fireworks...

.....and flies!

Delicately.....

2009-01-18T12:41:00.002-05:00

It finally happened. I finally got to talk to my babies back home. After a month! Christmas passing, New Year, most of their summer of vacation, beach-talk, movie-talk, so much of 'everyday nothingness' ... and sitting in the car just before midnight last night...they were finally home! Any reason for them not answering over the last month? No. Any apologies from anyone who should have apologised? No.

Ugh.

But.. we spoke.. quietly, softly, discussing this and that...mostly back to 'normal' conversation....and then...

the moment my heart felt displaced...torn from my body in one gut wrenching moment.

It was during a conversation between my daughter and I... she is entering high school -- in their State it is Grade 7 -- in a few weeks! OH MY GOD! I can't believe it!! So we discussed the differences, the similarities.. if she will still be playing violin ( her passion ) , we discussed her love of books, and whether she will still have time to read her 'extra curricular' books.. and then,

"uh, mum...so...now I'm going into high school, I had the period talk"

(I was out of the car by now, in sub-zero temperatures, and it took me about 5 paces to register what 'the period talk' was to her)

"ok....." ...feeling my legs start to go numb....not from the cold....keep walking...keep walking....

"so, mum...I was wondering, when did you first get yours, because I know that it can be similar, and I want to know when I might expect mine"

"well...lets see...." .... keep walking......

We had our talk, she was relieved, to say the least, and then I said,

"you know, baby girl (*which seemed so damn redundant now), you can talk to me about these things as well"

.pause.

"oh yeah. I know. I know, mum."

After we hung up, I melted. Of course I know that my oldest two children live with their dad and another woman whom they also call "mum", and together they raise them, and I see them not nearly as much as I would like, and the time we share is limited, and precious....but....

Some other woman gave my daughter the sacred, intimate female-to-female discussion on all those things we discuss when a girl grows and flourishes into a woman?! What if she told her things I wouldn't have? What if my daughter understands things in a way that only her and I intrinsically can only relate? did she tell her about ?? i asked her if she was nervous, or if she had any questions, and she said no.. but is she? does she? and when the event really happens... how will she feel? who will help her? i wont be there? i panicked. i cried. im crying now. it's possibly the most real, grounding thought i've come across since i left them and i kept having anxiety over "who is helping them cross the street?"

mother fucker. i ache.

Oh My God. Miss A just saw me crying and came and said "it's ok mom. you've always got me. it's good i'm not away". she has no idea why i'm crying.

apparently she does.

So, the only other thing that I keep thinking is -- given it's important to start telling my growing and developing daughter when puberty kicked in for me, when is it time to tell her, and her brother, that I have Bipolar Disorder...given that it is also something related to hormones, and is proven to be heriditary? And if you take a quick glance at my family.. that apple is certainly still rolling around in the orchard!

One thing at a time....

I need to find my legs today!

One thing at a time....

~Sprung~

2009-01-16T23:14:00.002-05:00

So today I'm at the corner mini-grocery (deli, by any other accounts) with Alyssa.... wait... backtrack...

today is freezing....so fucking freezing that I'm wearing two..count them....two pairs of socks...four layers of clothing, a hat, a hood, gloves, a scarf and I am still unable to feel my legs. My ass went numb about 2 hours ago. Note to self -- thongs are only, only, meant for summer.

( -18C to be exact .... I'm not kidding. This is not even a real number for an Australian).

So, back to the mini-grocery. This is what happened.

Alyssa and I stopped by on the way home from school to pick up what we had decided what a complete necessity, however, it is a little bit of an indulgent for us -- whipped cream for hot chocolate.... and a bag of chips for extra value!

Next thing we know, we bump into Alyssa's kindergarten teacher. Mrs C was wonderful -- you know the type -- so very happy, always smiling, either full of life, or full of drugs....I'd like to think the former. She asked how Alyssa was doing in 1st grade etc, though she admitted she already knew, because she asks about her and knows she's doing wonderfully. Then it came.

Mrs. C -- "So, are you working now? What are you doing?"

(I was always going on field trips and helping out at class parties last year)

Me -- "No..I'm busy studying this year"

Mrs. C -- "Oh, that's great ..what?"

Me -- "Uh...Nutrition....Clearly...."

as I hold up my can of whipped cream and bag of salt and vinegar chips.

(a can???)

fuck.

I made such a fuss last year about how children should eat healthy alternatives, how kids eat too much crap food in America, and how Alyssa eats a balanced, nutritious diet....you have no idea...SUCH a fuss....like, up to the assistant principal involvement kind of fuss.

Eh. I shrugged...She laughed...We laughed...Said it's too cold to care about anything right now (too freaking true!)... and Alyssa and I hurried on home for the best hot chocolate in the world...What she doesn't know is I make my own mix , complete with a little cayenne pepper to spice it up--oh for the love of god! It is so good!

On the plus side I did buy the 'fat free' canned whipped cream. This wasn't on purpose.

Eh.

Experiment

2009-01-09T11:39:00.003-05:00

Ok, so skip forward a bit over a month. I got busy, ok.. what can I tell you? I had Chrismakkuh, finals, New Year, and then for some really strange reason I decided to go back to school when I didn't even technically need to -- winter intersession. So here I am, freezing cold winds, getting out of bed when I don't necessarily have to get dressed and go out the door, and studying I.T geekified things, just to get through the ridiculous core units this college makes it students take.

Which leaves me here. I made it. I made it through the holidays without falling apart like I half expected to. I didn't go home to Australia-- actually, I didn't even speak to the gorgeous ones on Christmas Day. It became a bit of a shit thing, really, but I'm doing ok. Just bad timing.. or bad something. Everything seems to be a bit of 'something' lately. I think I see things a little differently lately.

Who the hell am I kidding? I see things differently all the freaking time.

Take today.

I'm on the train, pretending to study for this test I have on geek stuff. I don't really care, because my mind is a) not really interested in geek things, and b) not really interested in whether I pass or not. It should be. But it's not. (Let me just drop a little self-pride here -- I passed first semester with a GPA of 4.0... I deserved it, and I am damn satisfied.) What it is interested in, is my life right now. My real life. My interactions with people that matter to me. Not a stupid core unit, in a stupid classroom, or sitting in an overcrowded train, with hundreds of solemn-faced people going off to their stupid jobs that they probably don't like, doing it only because they have to pay an exorbitant mortgage on a house that is the size of a shoe-box, or worse, and inside their heads they are probably thinking about the fight that they had with their wife, or husband, or child, about some shitty, insignificant thing, which will plague them for the rest of the day, increasing their blood pressure and making their redundant job even more repulsive, probably causing them to turn to the comforts of just as repulsive, unhealthy foods until they get home where they will sit down in front of some sort of electronic box--either 68" or 18, depending on their poison, and zone the world out with sitcoms or role playing games, becoming numb with the subconscious idea that they are inadequate because they don't have this or that, whatever is being advertised on the box in the corner, or that they are socially insignificant because the flat screen they are furiously typing alongside doesn't really answer them back, and so they go to bed, ignoring the family that they are 'working so hard' to provide for, and wake up in the morning to do it all over again; just to take up a seat on the train that really might be better off being left empty.

That was what I was thinking instead of studying.

Which was why I might not have done so well on this exam.

I wanted to stand up and just say, "what are we doing? what are we doing as humans? this is a joke. it's some experiment to see who breaks first....."

Sometimes, I think I might be the winner.

Sigh.

Until Next Year

2008-12-03T09:15:00.003-05:00

The birthday week is over. Phew! In our house, all three celebrations come within 8 days of each other. Mixed somewhere in the middle is Thanksgiving. Yeah. Needless to say there is a lot of cake, excessive consumption of inappropriate foods, and quite possibly a few too many vino's. Wait--that can never happen! Birthdays, as you get older, tend not to mean too much, aside from expanding belt sizes and the discovery of a grey hair. For a child though, the excitement can be so overwhelming, that the child--and in this case Miss A--does not want to go to sleep at night for fear of the day ending. Me on the other hand, I would rather just stay in bed all day and not let it start ;-)

This is not entirely true. This year my husband took me to the most amazing restaurant - my new new favourite (I already had a new favourite, but now this one is my next new one)... It's an Israeli restaurant...Oh.My.Adonai! it was amazing. I usually struggle to find one dish on a menu that will appease my, lets say, 'picky' (high) standards...I think I will have to go back to this place at least 4 times before I will have satisfied all that I wanted to taste. And then some. The entire night was great. The wine, the conversation, the atmosphere...like a first date but we actually had something to talk about. I was sick--let's face it, I've been sick for two months. But I pulled myself together just for that evening, and somehow got through with barely a cough or a sniff. Outstanding I tell you!

Husband's birthday is not completely over yet...we have something special still planned, even though we took him to my other new favourite restaurant (his favourite also) for dinner. We like to dine, can you tell? I can't divulge yet. But he will be happy.

Mixed in somewhere before that was Thanksgiving. Oh, did I cook. Turkey (yes, I made it do the turkey dance around the sink...he has to have his last inch of fun before unceremoniously sitting in a pan with bread stuffed up his kazoo for 3 hours.) , every vegetable you can imagine, and then collapsed in a heap to watch football--as you do. Thanksgiving is great, it's like Christmas Day, but without the stress of choosing the right gifts. Though, I still find it difficult to say, "Happy Thanksgiving"...everyone was saying that at my school in the lead up. It seemed so phony. I couldn't do it. I just smiled, and said the obligitory "you too!" ... it doesn't mean anything to me. It's a weird American tradition celebrating, essentially, the raping and pillaging of Native American's, but falsely disguised as them coming together to share food one harsh winter. Blah. I'm not stupid.

So then came the girl's birthday. She wanted a razor scooter. I wanted her to keep all her bones in one piece. And her teeth. She didn't get one. Awww. She got an electric keyboard the size of a baby grand instead. Or close enough. And she is so good she can, without looking, tell you what note is a C, say, on the octave that was just played. Clearly not my genes. She plays so well it isn't annoying. I know that sounds contrite, but you know what I mean. Most kids would just bang around, switch the buttons to weird sounds and thrash it about. She listens, and makes songs. She's trying to play jingle bells right now. I bet she has it by Christmas for sure. The keyboard was a gift from her awesome uncle, whom she adores. I'm not sure how it happened, but we got her obnoxious gifts--messy, scientific things, that looking at now I'm considering how much plastic I need to lay out when she uses. She loves that sort of thing.

I wanted 3 things for my birthday, and I got all three. It was all about contact this year, from people who are important to me; the only people I care to have contact from. Of course I got love and wishes from more than three (groups of) people, but these three were significantly special to me, and it made my birthday complete. Yay to that!! And though some don't even read this...thank you.

Now we move onto Christmakkuh...

Oh man.

Things I Need To Do

2008-11-17T10:09:00.002-05:00

1. Finish an assignment due Thursday. Hey, at least I've started it.

2. Go to the Dr/Gyn today...yay for that adventure. I'm actually quite eager to go (yes, that sounds odd), but only because I need to get some things, uh, sorted. And maybe because it gives me a break from that assignment I've been working so hard on (cough).

3. Boycott Christmas. I'm on my way there...I don't want any mention of it; no sleigh bells ringing, or Bing Crosby singing. I'd like to not see the colours red, green or white, but unfortunately my school uses holly as landscaping, and it's apparently going to snow tomorrow morning. Blah.

4. Laundry. The ordeal that is laundry day, especially in winter, is actually one of the leading reasons we're looking for another house/apartment. Schlepping huge nylon bags of clothes up and down the stairs, in and out of the car in rain or snow is no fun. No fun at all. I still can't get used to it-- I'm used to a backyard, with a clothes line; the stereotypical Aussie Hills Hoist. Where it wasn't just a place for clothes to get dry, but a source of entertainment for kids, when parents weren't looking. Just entice a smallish kid to hang on the bars, and ... spin!! Oh the joys!

5. Find a job. This one is tricky. Been following the US economy lately? It's not a matter of just using my good looks and charm ( shut up) anymore ... And then, there's the issue of "when"? Between study, actual campus hours, home/family demands, I think I'll surely be a catch when I can offer, say "Monday's between 9 and 2" ..sometimes.. as my hours? Nice. Women still have things worse than men, I believe. They have their silent job, at home, to fulfil. If time is taken away from that, and things slide, the family feel they are missing out on something--an apple pie, dinner cooked, homework time, or just attention-- and yet, if they don't go out and get a 'real' job, they are seen as not contributing. Add studying into the mix, to try and fulfil their own needs and raise the expectations of a better, more fulfilling career later down the line when things aren't so demanding, and it's almost impossible to find time for a 'paid job'. This is completely forgetting any form of social life--that's confined to when they can organise play dates with the kids in tow! Not so for men. It's expected they can do anything. And they do.

Wow. How's that for a rant?

I better do that assignment.. I can feel more 'rant' coming on.

Things I've Noticed - pt. 48

2008-11-14T11:37:00.002-05:00

I'm tired. And hungry, and quite possibly, pre-mentrual. It might not be a good time to write anything. Or talk. But above all those things, I'm bored. So, deal with it.

There's a few things I've noticed, that I thought I'd share...knowing the mood I'm in it might be a fun ride... are you in?

(thanks)

So, I walk out of class.. lets say it was yesterday--in actual fact, I don't even know what day it is today, so who knows--and it was dark. I don't take night classes, it was not even 5pm. Thanks to daylight backward timing and the fact we are so far from the equator, it gets dark early when autumn/fall and winter roll around. I'm admiring the gorgeous leaves on the ground, stuck there from the rain that is lightly falling. And I don't even mind. It's pretty. "Natures palate," I muse... admiring a squirrel darting across my path, boldly, rushing to get home...just like me. Listening to some music (I'll get to that later)... life seemed nice...in order. I turn the corner, heading for the subway, when I look up and see that the City of New York had installed in just one day.. they weren't there that morning, I swear...

Christmas Lights.

FUCK OFF.

It's still autumn. I'm still admiring leaves, and squirrels, and it's still pretty, and I don't have to wear a scarf, and I... I....

FUCK OFF.

Moment lost. I skulked down the smelly, wet, dismal steps of the subway, pushed my way through faceless, unsmiling people (no one smiles in those tunnels) and rode the rest of my hour in complete misery. Damn City of New York breaking my moment.

***
Whenever I say 'autumn' I hear my accent more than almost any other word I say. It's weird, but I can't bring myself to say 'fall'. It sounds retarded.

***

There are categories of music on my ipod. Naturally, but for me.. I can, say, only walk in the rain to James Blunt. Other walking music, regardless of the weather is limited to Kings of Leon or Missy Higgins. I mean, you can't walk to Norah Jones. I tried. My legs fall asleep. I can only listen to Sarah McLachlan when I'm already depressed. Fiona Apple is separated only for those moments I need to drown myself ( figuratively) in the bath with a glass of red wine. Linkin Park is set aside for those times when I am thinking of a little special someone, and often when I'm disliking myself. It's a weird combination, but a good mix, and it makes me feel better. But I can't lay in the bath and listen to it, I might drown...non-figuratively. Don't even get me started on Evanescence.

***

I am starting to literally hate certain girls in one of my classes. I can't help it. One of them actually painted her nails before class started. I mean?? I know... hate is a strong word. Maybe I don't mean it. I'm not sure. I'll get back to you.

***

I haven't had coffee for 43 days. The fact that I'm still counting might mean something. I thought I was ok with it--there was a point where I was--I could even go into Starbucks and be totally cool with ordering my grande zen green tea. Now, the Maxwell House/Folgers coffee ad's on tv make me want to scream. Very loud. And they aren't even real coffee. Oh sure, my natural rhythm is back, and I feel better. I really do. But I love coffee..and it isn't so bad for me. Really.

***

I am 33 soon. Too soon.

***

My daughter has way too much attitude to fit into one almost-6 year old body, and so sometimes it spills out. My husband, apparently, does not understand that it isn't appropriate to encourage the attitude.

***

Sometimes I think that my train ride home, that one hour of being squished against faceless people, staring blankly, listening to music that means something, transporting me to a feeling or to nothingness is my 'train-therapy'. And it only costs $2. How amazing is that? Structured, constant motion, usual routine...how much more could you ask for?

Which is exactly where I'm going now.

(ok, the smell could be dealt with...and the watery mess at the bottom of the stairs...but still....)

Note directly to self....

2008-10-15T07:21:00.003-05:00

I really should, like a dear friend I know, start carrying around my journal, so I can write down the things in my head as the days go by; I'd have so much more to talk about on here...(thinking about that statement...is that such a good thing for you people??). I always think to myself, "that's a good/witty/insightful/somber observation... I would like to write about that" but then, it's gone. Clearly when I was a kid, and my dad peered into one ear and said he could see the other side, he wasn't joking.

So many things go on through out our day, that we just pass over; comments that are made, sights that we see. I'm sure I'm not the only one, however, that absorbs these and mulls them over. Maybe I take things too personally...(who me???)...but sometimes I feel as if the entire world is talking to me. No kidding, directly AT me. I think there is a term for that, (n.a.r.c.i.s.i.s.m.) but let's not go there...that's not what I'm talking about.

Like the other day, this sensitive petal was feeling a little homesick, on top of being physically sick. It's apparently flu season on the East Coast of the USA, not that that matters -- I could be in Namibia in the dry season and get bronchitis. I was at school, like a trooper (dutifully spreading germs?) feeling, I'll admit, sorry for my sick self, when two very thickly accented Jamaican/Haitian/West Indies women were conversing. A side note here, my husband delights in the fact that I cannot tell apart the "Caribbean nationalities", nor can I tell apart someone from Puerto Rico, Mexico, Cuba, Honduras, etc..... I'm not ignorant, I just don't have the experience. Where I lived for most of my life, almost everyone looked like me, talked like me, and sounded like me. It was a cultural wasteland, and a great shame. So, anyway, these women were talking, and one said to the other, "I don't know how anyone could come to another country and lose their accent! I mean, that is ALL they have left of their homeland!! What else do they have left, you know?!" I choked back my guilty tears, silently acknowledging all the times my friends had teased, "you're sounding different now!"-- handed over my dollar bill and quarter for my peppermint tea, and went and sulked to the corner of the caferteria.

Blah!

Then there was an email I was reading, where in the last lines my friend wrote something about her boyfriend, who works away for a few weeks at a time. She was happy to have him home for a bit because it reinforced, not to her, but at least to her friends that he was 'real'...she was feeling as though her friends might think he was becoming a figment of her imagination. Of course she was joking; her friends know her to have a loving, stable and secure relationship with a real human being. But it made me burst into tears ( damn.. maybe I'm just a big fucking cry baby?). I clasped the photos of my two children, who are the other side of the world, and held on to them. My friend had voiced my own fears. I talk about my children, but sometimes I feel as if they are someone elses. I fear, not that they aren't real, but that we aren't real in eachothers lives. I felt like my friend was talking directly to me...reminding me of the harsh truth of my existance here. My husband said, over dinner the other night in the context of a long conversation, "you might have to just start to get used to the idea of not seeing them as you would hope"....I replied, "I will deal with it, but I will never, ever get used to it". But the reality is right there. They sometimes feel like a figment of my imagination. They aren't tangible, touchable. When someone sees Miss A and says, "So, this is your only child?"... I cringe. I loathe to say, "actually, no. I have two other children, they are still in Australia." Judge away!

Blah!

Oh, I could write so much today. About the train, where I am the odd one out. Or how it smells so nauseating in the morning, full of cologne and perfume and brewed coffee, and then in the afternoon, of sweat, grime and other odors I would rather not mention. Really. Or the pressure that is put on me to write a good paper in my Classics class, because I talk quite a bit. I know that sounds weird, but there's value there...I really wanted to mention how some people follow other people's morals, ideas or values and don't show courage or independance, but I will save that for another time--my mood isn't ready to take that on just yet, I don't think. It's something that has been stirring, but could escalate. I could talk about going hiking in a gorgeous mountain; beautiful autumn foliage, rocks to climb, fresh air to take in, no buildings to see, and only a badly bruised and scraped lower leg to take away from the activity ( my brother would be so proud!).

But right now I need to get ready for the day, and will remember to put my journal in my bag-- you know, just incase I run out of things to talk about!

Would You Like Tears With That Coffee?

2008-09-19T10:44:00.003-05:00

So I'm sitting in the campus cafeteria; the basement section of the building my Classics class is in. I am early, as always - I like it that way - and I am quite nonchalantly listening to my iPod ( thank you, husband, for fixing it when I thought it was destined to be sharing space with this weeks garbage) . Missy Higgins was filling my ears, albeit not a good choice for what was about to happen, but still... I had to listen to something, and I was all done with Nirvana and Evanescence. Pretending to study, book open and pencil in hand, I sat eating an all natural yogurt, while sipping a slightly burnt tasting coffee ( I'm not complaining too heavily, It only cost $1.41). With about 10 minutes before I was about to head up to my class, it started to hit. No, not the caffeine rush - I don't get them anymore. I suddenly realised... well... reality.

I think there will be a time period of 18 months between when I last saw my children walking onto the plane to go home, and when I may... just may... get to walk off a plane to see them.

Eighteen fucking months !!!

I carefully put my coffee down, turned off the iPod, which by now I had tuned out of hearing anyway, and stared straight at the wall infront of me. Two old guys in white paint suits were slightly staring at me, I knew they could see the rush of tears fall down my face, but I didn't move or hide them. I couldn't.

I had a mix of feelings flow through me, "Oh god. Oh god. That can't be. I can't let that happen."

"That is going to happen."

"I can't cry in fucking public. I have to go to class."

"I hate myself."

"Eighteen months!!!"

"What sort of mot...."

I had to stop myself there, I think one of the painter guys was going to start coming towards me. I wasn't making a sound, but I think he could see. Grandpa intuition or something maybe. Or maybe he needed my chair?

I wasn't sure if my legs were going to work, I guessed if I fell, then I could blame the tears on that...so I packed away my seemingly redundant book and pencil, threw away the rest of my yogurt, kept the coffee, I'm not stupid, and walked up 4 flights of maroon stairs to the bathroom to assess the damage.

Mascara-smeared panda eyes. Blood-shot stoned-looking red balls of fire. Good move. Walking down the hall to class I saw my little friend, I say 'little' affectionately, because she is maybe 18. Bless. We talked and she is bubbly and sweet. I choked back tears and she didn't notice. That set the momentum for me to fake my way through a lesson, though I'm not entirely sure how successfully - there were moments of caught tears and too much silence.

But reality hit today, and I'm not sure I can fake it so well, for so long.

Hard Times

2008-09-13T16:29:00.005-05:00

No, not the book. Though I wish I was reading that in Classics, and not Euripides - what is with those Greeks and their tragic stories? What I mean is, have you ever had a moment where you were on the brink of a cliff... hanging on with some thick abseiling rope, tightly grounded by a sturdy tree. But youre not sure if you want to go over the cliff.. you know if you do, it could be the most exhilirating experience of your life, freeing you of your shackles; your fears and your past. Then the tree sways, and creaks, and you consider this - how strong, really, is that fucking tree?

I think I want to go over the edge - so to speak - because I am not really sure how stable the tree actually is. I don't think it is the most sturdy thing for me to be hanging around, or off, and I really want to fly off that cliff... exploring what I truly am, and can be.

I'm just really scared of the fucking mess that might greet me at the bottom if things go wrong. If I'm not as strong as I think I am. If my mind isn't going to support me the way I hope it will.

What do I have to lose, right? Almost everything else in my life has been taken, or lost....I'm alone in this. But.. I'm used to that too.

It's.All.Your.Fault.

2008-09-10T08:52:00.002-05:00

Yes, yours.

You - my humble, but loyal readers (all two of you) - are to blame for my demise. I once felt I was an adequate writer; confident in my abilities to structure a sentence, write a story, create a paragraph and maybe, just maybe, adhere to English language skills.

Not. Any. More.

For it is now, after writing in this blog for the best part (I use the term 'best' very lightly) of 3 years that my writing composition abilities have deteriorated with such ferocity that I found myself sat, faced with a simple four paragraph assignment, on the verge of tears. "A thesis statement?" What the fuck is that again? Give an example within the body of the paragraph of cause and effect, comparison, process...etc etc. Syntax errors? So you mean I can't abbreviate words to make them look like they are a mix between Latin, English and some new-age punk? Fuckers. Yes I know that is a fragmented sentence. I won't revise it. And what do you mean I can't start a sentence with the word 'and'? About the only part of the "English" class I have 'down pat' ( am I allowed to use colloquialism?) is the ability to be descriptive in my writing. Oh, I certainly can do that. That has been etched into my writing skills from all the moments here on my blog, and before, of describing and defining in intricate detail monotonous and unnecessary moments in my life to you poor readers. So, cheers for listening/reading!

My new 'friend' in class( when can you call someone a friend? I don't want to say, this chick in my class, because there are other chicks in my class... who I don't talk to, or might say 3 words to. But she's not really a friend like, lets go have a coffee - although I did accidentally snub her at the library when she wanted me to meet her other friend.. so... anyway.. I'm rambling, and I'm sure there is a big issue in English for that, but I don't really give a toss right now... I'm just thinking)...anyway... as I was .. whatevering.. my 'friend' and I were laughing at how life made us a little 'dumb' over the years, "which is why we're back in school, right?" as she pointed out. But then, I lament over how some of the Freshies are, apparently, already flavoured 'stupid'. So do we have an advantage, that our life experience ( oh God, I said it.. I.Have.Life.Experience.) will carry us over those 'dumb' moments? We might have forgotten what a thesis statement is meant to look like, but the body of our essay could perhaps contain some rather colourful examples based on previous knowledge, or just.. really..our jaded perception of the world.

I don't know the answers.. I'm just thinking aloud...and actually procrastinating over doing some readings for another class.

Don't even get me started on that one.

Ok, you already did.

Let me just say that The Odyssey is a good book. It's well written, and has a lot of interesting points. When you discuss them in class, dont go on and on and on about your thought, so as to lose your thought, and lose everyone else with you, and make people want to tear their ears off in some desparate attempt to make it all stop. Please. Thats all. It's really not hard to just say a few words, "it represents this" or "I feel Odysseus cried all the time because he was a big baby......" or whatever... and when the lecturer leans in, goes glassy eyed and starts to strain his neck muscles... stop talking. You've made and/or lost (most likely lost) your point.

Thanks.

Aside from that, things are peachy.

Oh, wait.. then there's the lecturer, conveniently located at the end of the day. Where I want to go to sleep, who gives anectdotes on her own life, which aren't relevent to the topic. Where I only write down notes to save me from falling asleep. Where I swear, and I am not being modest, nor overly complimentary of myself here, I could most likely take the text from her, and teach the class in a better fashion than she does, with much better success. It's like high school health.

I want to poke my eyes out every time I walk into the classroom. It would hurt less.

And her chalk squeaks on the board. I think she does it on purpose, because she knows people aren't paying attention. It might be me giving it away.

I have one other class. Nothing to report. It's cool. (Except the lecturer is pregnant, and I keep imagining her water breaks in class or she starts to heavily contract suddenly, and I look around the room at who would actually do anything if she went into labour.... they're all kids themselves....)

I've got more to write about home stuff.. but I'll save it for another time I'm procrastinating about doing some readings for school.

But for now, remember....It's all your fault!!

(thanks!)

End Week One.

2008-08-29T13:45:00.003-05:00

I just finished my first week of classes. Ok, so it turned out I only had two days worth, with the scheduling, but still... it was a hectic two days. Babysitting dramas early in the morning; missed buses; retarded people reading the schedule and classes not actually being run at that time, on that day (retarded people being me, yes, I will openly admit... "T" is for Tuesday, apparently, and not "Thursday"... lesson 1 learned..lets skulk away from the empty classroom now, mmkay??).

And then, there are the kids. The babies who might just be starting to hold drivers licenses - though I did hear one of the brats comment that she wasn't as late as her friend because her "mommy (no kidding) dropped her off". I eagerly search the room for someone, anyone, with tell tale signs that they might belong to the same group as me. You know... they might be carrying more than one bag (grey ones under their eyes from lack of sleep); wrinkles that aren't covered by any amount of makeup that is subtly suitable for our age; or anyone, just anyone, that is dressed in something that might pass as 'generic study clothing', and not 4 inch heels and a mini skirt.

Seriously.

Because, really... I didn't get out student loans to clip-clop through the halls unsteadily on dancing shoes, with my butt almost hanging out of my skirt, carrying a book and a pen and flipping my phone around the place like I'm expecting 'the call'. T-shirt and jeans for me. Today I wore my favourite ring. That was being dressed up. Go me. I honestly don't know if I can stand to not laugh directly in these girls' faces for much longer. I'm trying, really I am. It sure makes it entertaining. But while youre trying to focus on the Odyssey, who needs more entertainment?

The other thing I've noticed is my own accent. It is far more accentuated and pronounced in a tiny room full of Americans; Spanish-accented people; those from various deep African nations and Eastern Europe and Russia. I put my little hand up and suddenly the word "tomato" comes from my mouth and everyone turns their heads' and squints... interested at the sound. Then I start talking about English Classics, like Wuthering Heights, and suddenly I sound like a British pompous ass. I'm going to have to clarify the difference, for I am sure they all believe I'm from England... and no, we can't have that.

So. At the end of week one - how did it all go?

I had a major babysitting catastrophe. I screwed up my schedule. I feel as old as the hills - and then some. Whenever I speak I sound like a pompous tosser. My ipod broke, so I am forced to read on the train. Some of my peers dress like hookers, giving me at least some form of comic relief. I get wicked mosquito bites when I sit outside - anywhere outside - for any length of time. I'm taking a class I believe I don't require, but I'm interested in anyway, so will suck up the time and credits and do regardless.

Basically, I love it.

Yay to studying again !!!

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

2008-08-19T15:29:00.002-05:00

So it's all official. I'm enrolled in school. I told you this, right? No? Oh.. Ok.. so I enrolled last week ( a grueling 3 hours of torture ) and then I walked out and realised I am taking a class I shouldn't be taking * sociology anyone? * ... so today I had to go back in and sit in the torture room, for slightly less time and find another class more suitable. Trouble is, everything is taken. I could write an epic here about how I am not given any credits from Australia (still disputing this); how because I am an international student I have to take English 1 and 2 to prove I can write essays ( the pain, the pure pain ) and how I have to sit and do a multitude of classes with kids straight out of high school.

I know.

But I digress. It's all taken in with a deep breath, and it will all be fine. The main problem, today, was - as I said - there were no classes left. Unless I wanted to come for 2 hours on a Friday night, or 8am Monday morning to sit in a remedial math class. I'd rather be beaten to death with a pineapple. The girl processing my program change was very understanding, helpful and tolerant. It was the second time today, to be honest, that someone went above their job description, and did something for me that they weren't required to do, to make my life smooth and joyful. And I'm talking - joy - !

She added me into a class * that was on my list of (pearly heavenly dream) classes* that was technically full, overriding the system, without authority, and in a time slot that fit perfectly with my schedule. All while my head was in my hands, contemplating taking the remedial math class and whether Monday or Friday was less painful.

She's my new best friend - and I told her so.

She told me just not to change class; enjoy it and don't fail.

The other person that did something wonderful, was so wonderful, it almost borders on being.. uh.. I think almost illegal to discuss.. so I wont. But let's say my immunisation requirements are all fulfilled and met and I'm happy to have complied with the school and got it out of the way.

When you surround yourself with good people, and disassociate yourself from negativity... it really does work in your favour! Who knew? I should have been doing this a long time ago ! I've been working hard on it.. and I know this only shows two small examples, but they are two that made my life so, so sweet entering into my new crazy, hectic life of school... I am so appreciative.

So here I go - entering into a new chapter of life. There's a good chance I wont graduate before going grey, but that's ok. It's all about life experience... right?

Oh, and for those of you playing along at home - I'm doing a Bachelor of Science in Health and Nutrition. I haven't chosen a minor yet... I've got a semester or two to work that out.. give me time...

Once a month??

2008-08-06T14:58:00.002-05:00

How did that happen? I only had something, half assed at that, to say once in all of an entire month? I think I just broke my own boredom record!! Hmn. We'll see if August changes that. So far, it has been a month of many changes. Starting with a haircut. Eh. I'm always getting them... it's not that exciting anymore. But I also was in contact with a friend from the past (not ouija kind of contact, although, we were at her mothers wake.. so that might be a little bit of a shitty joke....I'm leaving it in...) I haven't seen said friend in 6 months after our worlds decided to crash and burn and apparently our friendship was the fatality that she couldn't handle. Going to the wake was strangely comforting, but odd also. I loved her mum; who taught me in a short year or so more than I can express in a crabby blog. Mostly, as I said my goodbyes, I remembered strength, fairness, no nonsense and someone who is most likely the closest thing to 'right' as anyone I've ever met. It's the only reason I went. As for the friend, it was interesting that it seemed from the moment I was there, the friendship was wonderful. No awkwardness, no bitterness *showing*, and we slipped back into 'same old'. Freaking weird. Is this what it's like to just forgive? I've never really had that happen.. there's always been a hint of resentment ( not from me for the most part, let me clarify), or manipulation ( ugh.. that old bone....) I wonder if this friend and I truly are in better places in our lives * her losing her mother is deeply saddening, but if you knew the situation, its also very relieving * , or whether I'm just a fucking putz.

Who knows.

I've also been taking care of business. Go me. This going back to college thing ( note here, I hate, hate, hate... calling it 'college'.. I'm doing an intense "uni" degree.. they just dont call it that here unless you're in some wanky Ivy League school).. anyway... it's hard work even just organising the papers! Student loans, finances, enrollment interview crap, immunisation paperwork * dont even get me started, people..... you know how I feel....*.. and you know what? I've done it all on my own. Ok No round of applause needed. It isn't that big a deal. But for me, who has an anxiety attack when this sort of stuff pops up, it's been challenging. Put me in the classroom, I'm sweet. Make me deal with beaurocrap.... choke! But I decided that I better get used to handling these people.. so I'm making my way through... I've even memorised my social security number! No kidding - no more hidden piece of paper in the purse for me ! (seriously, I was pathetic)

I don't mean to sound hippy, or throw my preceding new-found integrity to the waste basket, but I am pretty sure all this recent change and flow of confidence and such has to do with the solar eclipse the other day. My new studying epic, well, that was happening already, but its falling into place ever so well, and I thank the eclipse for that.. and all that comes next.... It was actually cool.... (astro-geek moment...) I woke up right on the exact moment of the eclipse here...6.22am.. ok.. not such a hard feat when I've been having insomnia the last million years and have been waking up every hour or so... wake... look at clock.. curse...get up... drink a gallon of whatever i can find in fridge... ewww... tomato juice at 3am?? where's the vodka?? .... pee.... curse some more... night light not on...lights too bright....go back to bed. Rinse and repeat an hour later. Sometimes 40 minutes if the Gods are unexplicibly evil. But since the eclipse, even that pattern has been altered to a steady flow of 2.5 hour breaks... whoot! It's like I've won some prize, when I peel my eyes open and do the math calculation... "if it was 1.27am before, and its 3.50 now..... fucking jackpot !!!!!"

So I guess it's safe to say life is going ok. I'm still holding on with white knuckles though, in case whatever wonderful potion made it to be this way stops working. Fuck, I'll even dance around naked in the full moon if it helped. Wait. That'd probably be the start of a bad sign. Scrap that.

My only complaint... if it is one... is that NY still doesn't know how to put on a decent summer. It rains all the time, and every chance I get to make plans with my new friend ( oh, I didnt mention her... next time... funny story ) ... to go to the beach.. it rains.

And just where have you been???

2008-07-19T14:06:00.003-05:00

So I don't get on here that much these days. It's not that I don't have anything to say... I guess it's just I don't really care to say it. It seemed for a while, there wasn't anything to talk about; and then there was, but it was all bad news; and then I didn't feel like telling anyone exactly how I felt, because if I really said those things out loud then maybe the Gods Who Were Listening might make bad stuff really happen, or something inane like that.

And then I went to Vegas for 10 days... and tried to consume my body's weight in frozen margaritas. I think my cunning plan nearly worked... except for the annoying problem of it was 112F every single day, and the margaritas melted, so I had to keep starting over again. Sigh. The things we do in the name of science. (insert here - joy and elation). The husband and I had a good time, relaxing and really not doing too much (You wouldn't either in that heat). Actually, I enjoyed it - finally away from NY, and loving the clean(er) air, wider streets, nicer people and although Vegas is void of any form of culture, it still entertains me. I guess you could say it revitalised me - giving me some strength to endure New York for another few weeks, at least. (On a side note here, anyone planning to go to Hoover Dam - don't do it in summer. 120F ? I like heat, but you have got to be fucking kidding me!)

So I'm back home, getting back into my groove of "detest and disdain", which is why I haven't bothered with the blog. What's there to really write about? The humid, dirty air? The boring existence of everyday life for me, whether it's summer or not? Please, please don't let me fall into a funk, not yet.. not so soon. Are those margaritas melting already? Is there no tequila left in any cell of my body to save me???

And then it happened. I finally got some fire in my ass, thanks to a mini-argument with the husband, over I don't know what. I went to see my old friend ( old as in age...this guy is like a dad, giving out half-assed, but well meaning advice, laced with poor jokes and back-then stories ) to sit and get away from the world for a few hours...and happened across another friend from where I used to work. She told me to get my ass into gear and find out about school. And find a yoga class. It worked. I found a few phone numbers, and two days later, via an automated tele-response, was being told I had been accepted to my chosen school and course, and would be starting in September.

OH. MY. GOD !!!!

I actually have a life ahead of me !!!!!

I snoopy-danced around the house, pressing #9 again and again, to hear the recording again, just to be sure the pretend-person was right, and then starting thinking ...

this is it !

You really have no idea how much this changes things for me. No.. NY will not suddenly become this magical land of beauty and love. It's still going to suck. But now I have a purpose within it. Now I belong somewhere. I have a goal, and something to fucking DO !!!

And I might, just might.. meet someone, or some people, that I can talk to that can string a few sentences together.

Anything is possible !

At the very least I have stationary to buy - and we all know how awesome that is !!

That Monkey Boy

2008-06-28T11:54:00.004-05:00

It's my baby boys' birthday today.. well, officially it's over in 'his time'... confusing things even more...

He's no baby anymore, but you know the way things are.. a mothers child is always her baby.. He is 12. Twelve ! (ok.. yes, how old do I feel?)

I can't write what I want to say... I would be here for another 12 years, explaining how great this kid is; how quiet he is; but how outgoing he can be. How caring he is, but how frighteningly passionate he is when backed into a corner to display his emotions.

I'm not going to go into how much I love this guy; because my heart is already in pieces. He is the first male I loved unconditionally... and received the same in return. For his birthday, I wish him everything everyone wishes someone ... but to an exponential degree, and from a place deep within my soul.

This kid rocks. Really.

It's another year I'm not there to hug him. But if it was bothering him as much as it was me, this well-adjusted kid didn't let me know when we spoke last night...bouncing from thought to thought on what he loved most about the package I sent him.

Blah. I'm not going to that place of should have, why aren't I, what if's... today is a day where I'm feeling broken already. A day where I could be celebrating.. and inside I feel odd enough as it is.

I feel so detached from all this, it's starting to scare me. I can't articulate what I feel within anymore. It's all there, inside.. but I can't put it into words anymore.

Have I really whined myself mute?

Lost

2008-06-20T08:12:00.003-05:00

I've lost a few things lately. Maybe some have been missing for a while.. I don't know.

First of all, I think you can tell, by the lack of entries here... I've lost some motivation. Really, it's not that I don't care about you.. really.. don't go getting all sensitive on me.. it's just I've had nothing to say. I know.. can you believe it? I've just lost any real desire to do anything around here. I want to whine like a 10 year old at the end of summer holidays... "I'm boreddddddd". I baulk at my husbands suggestions - lame as they sound to me - and instead, sit at home and basically do nothing all day. I don't interact with 'real' people, unless you call talking via the phone or computer 'real'. Who to? My friends back home. Of course.

I've lost any desire to make friends here. I'm flat out not interested. They aren't my friends; this isn't my real home; and the people here annoy me. I have one person I would call a friend, and we see eachother less than once a month. I have friends. They just don't live in the same country as me. They know me, and I know them, and I don't want to get to know anyone else. Yes, this is stupid, and not very friendly, and won't really serve too good a purpose if I want to succeed in living in this God Awful Country, but there you have it. Bad temper and all.

I also lost any control over my hormones - just so you know. Thanks to a new birth control pill - if thats not too much information. So I'm a flood of raging PMS intertwined with my usual rollercoaster of tyranny. The husband is clearly the luckiest man in the world. Clearly.

I lost my wedding band. I used all my internal angst and hatred for anything un-Australian to find it. I did. Thankfully.

I think if I don't get out and do something, I might lose my mind. Completely. I know this is my home now. There are days I accept that. Obviously, the last couple of weeks, are not part of that. My brother is going through hell; I want to be there... at least so he can divert his pain in my direction and throw some grass-eater jokes my way... My baby boy's birthday is soon. I sent him a package, and as nice as that is that I can do that.. I dont get to be there. It's another birthday I've lost with him.

As you can see.... this pity-party is in full swing. Turn the music up and pour the drinks.

Let's just hope it doesn't last long.

(as you can tell - im feeling somewhat homesick, and in need of some connection.. especially to people I love back home.... what do I do in times like this?? ....)

For No Apparent Reason

2008-06-02T19:49:00.006-05:00

Sometimes you just do things because you do. You know, Hillary commented he wanted to climb Mt. Everest "because it is there".... that kind of thing. Well, the last few days have sort of been like that. Obviously not to that extent. Not in the slightest.

On Sunday, we didn't really have anything to do, and so we figured we would go and walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. Why not? Or we could sort through a mountain of laundry and not see any sun for 5 hours. We went with the bridge.

Parking the car on the Brooklyn side, catching a train into the Manhattan side, and strolling across in the mid-afternoon spring sun was just amazing. Not rushing, not feeling pressured to be anywhere else ( as if the laundry could get dirtier while we were away ) ... it was just heaven. We've done it before... sure.. and the buildings haven't changed. Neither has the nasty water. But we had fun.

While we were back on the BK side, we figured we'd go down to the park and spend some more time out in the sun ( can anyone say pro-cras-tin-a-tion??) Miss A had a great time, throwing stones into the water, playing by the skyline of one of the biggest cities in the world - completely oblivious to this fact. She went and played in the playground for a while.. then came up to ask us something. Something that had me choke back tears and want to cry for humanity. And I'm not being a drama-queen.

Miss A - "hey guys, is it ok if I play with a black girl?"

Us - " WHAT???????"

Miss A - " is it ok.... "

Us - " why would you ask....."

Not to mention we were at a friends house the night before who was African-American..... so this came as a very weird question.

It turns out, Miss A had found a new friend in the playground, and before she started really playing with her, the friend said she had to go and ask us if she was allowed to play with black people. So she did. Apparently this little girl has had issues in the past with others not being able to play with her; and that makes my heart bleed. I never knew that that even existed now in our society... I'm so ignorant .. I think we live in such a blended community now, because that's how I raise my own.... I wanted to cry for that little girl... but instead I sent Miss A off where they played for the longest time, and had fun, for no other reason but because they were kids in a park on a warm, sultry Sunday afternoon. I think they both learned a neat little lesson as well. I'm sure they did.

But then, Monday comes, and the laundry needs to get done. So I take the car, so I can go to the laundromat... two things I still cannot get used to doing - driving, and driving to get laundry done. It's early - and even with insomnia, thats something I'm not happy with.... and I hate NY drivers. And Mondays. And New York. And then, all of a sudden, I realise I missed my exit, and that wouldn't be so bad, except now I'm going over another bridge for No Apparent Reason. Only this time, I'm not walking. I'm driving.... and there is no turning back. And this bridge is going to cost me a $10- toll fee. Welcome to Staten Island.

Fuck.

I feel like such an idiot.

I still don't even know how it happened. And I'm not about to retrace my steps, because I don't want to end up shelling out another $10 if I get it wrong.

And the toll booth chick doesn't even care. I knew she wouldn't. At least she gave me directions on how to get back to Brooklyn.

With a smile on her face. And not a happy one.

Grrrr.

So... sometimes we do things just because we do. Sometimes it's because we have this idea; this feeling; this desire.

Sometimes it's because we aren't sure, and so ask whether we are meant to or not; and hopefully we are given some well meaning advice. Or hopefully we listen to deep within and follow our true instincts about what is right or wrong.

And then sometimes, we do what we do, because it is put in front of us, and we have no clue. And for no apparent reason, we just end up, traveling on down the wrong way, early in the morning, with a trunk load of dirty laundry, pissed at all the drivers around you, on a gloriously gorgeous spring day and all you can do is look out over the bridge and think to yourself....

It could be worse.

I could be home, with nothing at all to do.

City Farm

2008-05-29T19:00:00.002-05:00

Today saw me off on another school trip; let me just spell this out ....

Warm day.

50 kids.

1.25 hour bus ride.

Going to a farm - city kids, who's idea of a chicken comes in the form of a side dish with rice or fries.

One kid throws up (what is with these kids and bus trips, already? And why do I have to be the one to catch it?).....

Said farm is overbooked; understaffed and totally out of control.

Did I mention it was warm?

I did. Yes.

However, all that aside, I did get a chance to play with a Vietnamese Potbelly Pig, with the teacher noting "you've missed animals, huh?", and I took photos for the school while the two classes rode ponies; milked a cow and went on a disorganised and overcrowded hay ride.

The kids' squeals and laughter as they chased the chickens around the coup were sheer delight, and when one of the little girls found an egg and brought it to me, it was just priceless. I love how I become nameless on these trips, and assume the role of "Alyssa's Mom"... all the kids call me that, and I love it. They share their stories and want to sit next to me, and if I choose them to hold hands, they feel very special.... but I'm the one that is blessed !

The bus ride home was, for the most part, less interesting.. that is to say, all kids kept their lunches to themselves.... and I managed to have one little boy fall asleep on my shoulder, whilst talking to the two teachers, laughing and joking about counting down the days til summer, and the finer details of the last two trips of the year (of which I was quietly invited to both of ).

All this, returning home, on almost zero sleep last night. That was the fun part. Insomnia is kicking my ass at the moment, and I am not able to sleep any longer than an hour at a time, and I sleep for no longer than 5 hours in total.

If I'm lucky.

This morning I awoke suddenly from a brief dream ( it had to have been, as I was asleep for only 40 minutes).. .where I was attaching a car battery charger to my body, trying to jolt myself.

I didn't say I wasn't weird.

It was a great day, and I think I needed that charge of energy to make it through...

But please... next trip... no more cleaning up other kids' vomit.... ok?

Memorable Memorial Weekend

2008-05-27T09:14:00.004-05:00

What a weekend! They don't really call them "long weekends" around here.. actually, I don't really know what they're called, but Memorial Day Weekend was certainly fun. And there's only one way to fit it into here....

You guessed it... Point form.

*** Friday night- Miss A was treated to her very first babysitter. Her first real one. A family friends' 17 year old daughter came over and ordered pizza with her; played connect 4; watched Drake and Josh; stayed up way past her bedtime and had girl fun. Meanwhile, we got to go and see Indiana Jones... the first movie release in 19 years.... making us feel ancient. How was the movie? If I had have seen it 15 years or so ago, I'd have thought it awesome; totally wicked, and amazing. Now... eh. Ford was good, still got some charm, but generally, it was just a good movie with a lot of hype. Did I care? Nope. I was out with my guy, and his brother, and we had a great time. A pre-movie drink, some laughs, and then some post-movie food... some more laughs, and the promise of more nights like this to come. I could have gone to see Beavis and Butthead and I still would have had the same awesome time. Really. Though coming home to the babysitter, and saying goodnight to her, made me feel terribly, terribly old. It only seemed like a blink-of-an-eye-ago that I was babysitting someone else's kid to earn some extra cash. How did we get so old, so fast? And when the hell is it going to slow down?

*** Saturday- Waking up to a perfect, gorgeous spring day and heading off to the city to catch a boat, that will take us to the ball game is most likely one of the best ways to start a weekend. Ever. We worked out that it was Miss A's first time on a boat, so this could either go ... well... very sour, or very pleasant... Hoping for pleasant, we all sat up top, in the cool (a bit too cool) fresh air. Uncle H had organised the day, so we had an ally and an extra distraction, if necessary.. which wasn't. She was fantastic. Yankees basically had batting practice for the entire game; with Seattle not getting much of a game in. Apparently though, somewhere amongst the standard ballgame fare of pretzels with too much salt (yum); peanuts in their shells, dropped on the floor and squashed carelessly; hotdogs; sausages and peppers; beers (yum); it became known to me that 'kid fare' included cotton candy. After my protests of "no. youre going to the dentist in two weeks"..."no, why don't we just dip your head in the sugar bowl when we get home?"....."no. just no".... I realised I wasn't going to win. I was getting looks from not just Miss A, but the other two as well. So fine. Have the strikingly blue cotton candy, under the disclaimer, "I will not be held responsible for the behaviour that follows". Understood.

Oh. My. Lord.

Along with the gallon (not quite) size soda... I felt almost neglectful giving such a small body so much sugar. And when we took it away, our girl was feigning her cotton candy like a crack addict who has lost her supply. It was sad. She was funny; but it was sad. It made me realise how little sugar we really give her. Or how much other kids actually have. Lucky we were outside and she could let off a bit of energy. The game ended and we bounded for the boat, this time sitting underneath, but Miss A happy to go to the very front, to the bow, and ride the waves. She loved it, and likened it as " its like I'm bouncing up and down forever but my legs arent moving, mama!!!!!".... oh the joy!

When we finally got her to sleep, which was no mean feat, I swore there wouldnt be another ounce of sugar enter her body for a week. She woke up asking if we could go on a boat again that day.

*** Sunday- Just call me Martha... .Martha Stewart. Today was Home Depot/Crafts day... where we hung a mirror in our house, and the Sugar Freak and I made a school project. We went to the park, hanging out by the water, eating the best Australian-inspired pies and drinking the best flat-white coffee anyone could ask for in New York. I was grateful the Sugar Freak had a chance to run off some more energy.. as she was still in a weird, or should that be wired mood. Later we came home, made mojitos and ordered Indian. Another perfect day. Seriously. How many can I get in one weekend??

*** Monday - BBQ @ friends house. This was interesting, as neither one of us had really hung out here before, together. Miss A's friends from school... she had a great time, running around in her bikini under the sprinkler... really noting the end of winter, I think. I started feeling the effects of the (wine?) weekend, because by 5, I was ready to come home and cocoon into my shell of my happy home. That's not such a bad thing, really.. Time spent with friends...check. Fun, laughter...check...sunshine and fresh air....check.....time to go home and cosy up on the sofa after a long, fun weekend.....yep... I'm ready, take me home.

We had a good weekend. What more can I say?

Except, blue cotton candy is bad... even if the Yankees did win. It's food from the devil.

Journal Musings.

2008-05-20T16:15:00.012-05:00

( taken from my journal, while bumping and sliding on a long; heaving; grating and screeching train... from the bottom of Brooklyn, all the way to the Upper East Side...to the American Museum of Natural History. My favourite museum of all time. Even J.D. Salinger couldn't resist it. )

* On the B.

Sometimes I would love to dress a certain way. I'd feel so comfortable, so free, so expressive. Not all the time; I like my 'flair'; but occasionally I'd like some pieces (some days maybe) to really express how I am feeling. Alternative? Sure. Grungy? Why not. Hippy? Naturally. Two different sides of my brain (or personality) - artistic v's conservative - fighting it out, sensibilities and function over fun and freedom.

And yet I don't because I think I fear I'll "look unlike me"... the "me" others have gotten used to. I'll be chastised. Be different. So, instead of expressing, I conform. Like millions of other people. There is no wonder, no absolute wonder, I love tattoos. Individuality is curbed, controlled, and ridiculed in our society. When someone creates the notion of individuality, what happens? It is mass marketed. Even "emo" kids are considered 'popular' now, creating their own subculture; selling tshirts with slogans and semi-quaint hair cuts.

Just being 'me' at 32 ( shhhh... don't say it too loud.. it's getting scary) is becoming painstakingly difficult.

Why can't I just wear green tights with rolled 3/4 jeans; retro funky sneakers; a light pink cashmere sweater and a nice necklace if I want to?

Meanwhile, I do... really.....enjoy wearing ballet flats; pressed grey pants; a low v teal coloured top with embroidered detail, and a stunningly tailored black jacket with capped shoulders.

I guess my internal "fashionista" didn't know this war was quite going on ... Sorry.

Jeans and t's are always welcome, for the record

* On the R.

The museum was awesome. Initially I was going as a joke, to tease E..he had a class trip there, and I was going to 'stalk' him. I ended up seeing him once, for a total time of about 45 seconds, right when it was about time I was getting ready to leave. And I loved it that way. I had the best day, and could have stayed longer. I love that museum. I'm going to make it a regular thing (going to the museum, not stalking my husband).

Walking around; stimulated, but by quiet, inanimate objects. (I guess you could call once alive things, but now dead, inanimate... though, sometimes, it doesn't seem fair). Surrounded by people, but in solitude. Learning about anything you feel like browsing, at your own pace, at your own feel, or ... ( my favourite ) totally zoning out. And noone takes offense.

Then there are the photos. So many different angles, options, viewpoints. And not just the artifacts. The people around are interesting also. Ipod on, absorbed in somethingness, or nothingness.

I have favourites at the AMNH, that if I didn't fear being locked up, or worse, given another drug, I'd talk to.
(I'm bad with names in real life, so it goes without saying that this extends to historical figures in a glass enclosure also.. no matter how many times I visit)... But here are a couple of my must see familiar's when I go....

*** Some monumental Asian dynasty leader. Gregarious looking, but alluring ( not Atilla ) . He makes me smile. He seems jovial, and knowledgeable and if I read more about him, I might find this to be true. But I just like to look instead.

*** I always visit the sharks and say I'm sorry. How undignified.

*** I visit the Buddhist/Hindi statues, and always tell myself I will buy a Kwan-Yin for my home. I find peace in this area, looking at the tea cups and pots from dynasties long, long past. I feel at ease under the guiding looks of Ganesh and somehow wonder why everyone doesn’t have some 8 armed person over looking them all the time.

*** I’m still Kwan-Yin-less.

*** And my all time favourite, hidden away down on the “1^st floor” ( which is really the main entrance floor, but I wont go into semantics….) is the North West Indians… Native American. Oh, how I could stay in this neatly enclosed area for a week. The dim lighting; the rich woods. The colourful, entertaining-yet-fearful masks; the tall, over-powering totems. The deep, tribal, soulful history. I lament, that this is present in every culture, But this one. This one fuels me; intrigues me; grounds me; pacifies me.

These people knew their stuff.

Tree Huggin' Love.

A Kwakiutl Ceremonial Mask, depicting the Dawn.

Sea Life

Some of my favourite people I like to hang out with

From one daughter, to another...

2008-05-15T18:20:00.004-05:00

It was a kindy-school trip kinda day; I don't even want to go into what happened. The natural instincts I have, to catch vomit when I see it hurled from the mouths of people, must be so ingrained within me, I even seem to glide effortlessly down the aisle of a moving bus to catch it.

And it wasn't even my kid.

Which then, led me to gain the status of "vomit mum"; with a sick little girl in tow... and a teacher reflex-gagging every time she looked in the general direction of us. I wish that 'status' came with a badge or some super-powers or something.... but alas... just a ziploc bag, emptied in a hurry of its contents, and some paper towel. That's it. That's all I got. Oh, and some Purell.

Oh.. I told you about the kindy-school trip kinda day.

Sorry.

(this was all after walking to the school, with this mornings' thoughts in my head.. feeling totally inadequate as a parent; mother; woman; human being..... so to be thrown up on...I guess I kind of deserved it, and I took it. Like a fucking trooper. It's just body stuff, after all)

So, coming home... with Miss A, who enjoyed her time, and loved that her mama was there, by her side as well... (sigh).... I anti-bacterialled myself (yes its a word....trust me), and set about doing something nice with her. She had decided we would bake. Donning matching aprons, we made scones ( her choice ). Great fun, and simple.

Later in the afternoon, Miss A saw me sitting on the sofa, attempting (*note the choice of word*) to hem a pair of new pants. Casually Miss A says to me, "Oh, mama... you're doing that thing like Nanna does, right?"

"Yes baby. Except Nanna knows what she is doing."

Very straight face, Miss A says, "I know, Mama. I know"

Sigh.

Later again, a burst of tears from Miss A. She walked passed a photo of her brother and sister. And literally broke into a flood of emotive tears. So we talked (didnt work); tried to play (nope); and finally set on writing an email and sending photos of her just recently baking (success!).

It seems not only I was missing certain people today. I was feeling a bond of mother/daughter connections all through the day... from me, down... and me...up. And my daughter was... to her grandmother, by wanting to bake, and seeing me sew, and then, a sibling connection..

It was just one of those days.

A big, huge sigh.

Really.

I Wonder

2008-05-15T07:55:00.002-05:00

There's a song, I've been listening to on CMT (shut up.. you know you listen to Country Music when no one is around, too) and every time, I mean every.single.time.... I cry. I wonder ( that's the title, by the way) if one day my eldest daughter will write something similar. I wonder if she already is working on the lyrics, in her mind. I cry, because I know.. I know deep down, I wish that she thinks of me; loves me; and we will have a wonderful, happy, beautiful bond.. but ... I wonder...

I Wonder

Sometimes I think about you
Wonder if you're out there somewhere thinking bout me
And would you even recognize
The woman that your little girl has grown up to be
Cause I look in the mirror and all I see
Are your brown eyes looking back at me
They're the only thing you ever gave to me at all

Oh, I hear the weather's nice in California
There's sunny skies as far I can see
If you ever come back home to Carolina
I wonder what you'd say to me

I think about how it ain't fair
That you weren't there to braid my hair
Like mothers do
You weren't around to cheer me on
Help me dress for my high school prom
Like mothers do
Did you think I didn't need you here
To hold my hand
To dry my tears
Did you even miss me through the years at all

Oh, I hear the weather's nice in California
There's sunny skies as far I can see
If you ever come back home to Carolina
I wonder what you'd say to me

Forgiveness is such a simple word
But it's so hard to do when you've been hurt

Oh, I hear the weather's nice in California
And just in case you're wondering about me
From now on I won't be in Carolina
Your little girl is off
Your little girl is off
Your little girl is off to Tennessee

I know my daughter is destined for greatness. Not to Tennessee. But somewhere. And that isn't like "every parent thinks that of their child". I know she is. I've known it since she was an infant. So have most people around her. Whether it's the violin, or dance, or singing. She will be far greater than we can imagine. And just growing up; I wonder.... how she will feel, me not having talks with her, about things, boys, love, life, homework, teachers, her own self.

The phone doesn't cut it sometimes.

Bowl of Alphabet Soup

2008-05-13T08:36:00.006-05:00

I've got Shirley Temple in my head (no, I don't need any funky drugs for that, ok....well, I might...). That damn curly-top kid with her cutesy smile and syrupy goodness, is singing "Animal Crackers in My Soup", over and over again in my head.

Animal crackers in my soup
Monkeys and rabbits loop the loop
Gosh oh gee but I have fun
Swallowing animals one by one

Who the fuck says, Gosh oh Gee. And what (how old was she in that movie.....7?) young kid says menagerie when she's talking about a herd of animals??

Oh god!! Some other song I'm trying to play, to drown out Shirley, started wailing about cherries.

Someone make the madness stop !!

(and this isn't even why I'm writing today)

Oh hey.. so the name of that other song is called "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree"... she's saying "you're not the one for me"...

That's what I'm potentially talking about here!!

So just recently, I've been looking around at various relationships, building up; crumbling down. I've been taking a big, long, overdue look at my own relationship and realising many things.. but today isn't about mine. (I think it's safe to say we've heard enough about that for a while.. and things are going well... so meh!).

But what it is, is I've noticed so many people, in so many relationships just lose themselves. They outwardly display who they are, and I know who they are, it's not a hidden thing...they are wonderful, vibrant, focused, amazing people, with set likes and dislikes, passions and beliefs. And then, with the introduction of a new mate, these things disappear, one by one.. literally, like an unconscious little checked list... unnecessary items.... What was once the core essence of a person, is now thrown to the back of the room like shed skin.

This is in a new relationship.

In a failing relationship, the opposite is true. They clamor to find all that they once were; to rebirth themselves; desperate for change, but a change back to where they started from. All the things they let go of, the things that made them incomplete, to then make them "complete" in a relationship, they need to go and re-accomplish, find, achieve. This takes time; pride; and a certain amount of hurt as well. There is nothing else they can do...the one they love isn't there anymore, and so they have to go back to just loving themselves. They need to pick up that shed skin, and see if it fits again.

What I can't understand, and what confuses me, is ...well... point forms.....because I can't work this out into any decent structure, okay?! ...

Are we these things naturally, and we have to let go, in order to help find room for our new love?
Are these things 'fillers' until that mate comes along, and 'that' is the natural essence of our being?
When things don't work out, and we are 'released' back to our selves, why does it hurt so much, and why can't we just go forward, as though our skin is waiting for us?
Why do we, when we are with someone, find that we become a part of their likes and dislikes so easily? It seems we let go of who we are as easily.. again.. as easily as shedding skin, and we grow into theirs just as smoothly. Is this a female thing? Do males feel the same?
Why do we lose ourselves?
HOW do we lose ourselves?
When we are in a relationship, and we realise this 'loss' midway through, is it possible to 'find' ourselves, without ruining the relationship?
If our friends/family members can see the loss, if they can see that we are not who we are; if we are not living as we once were; (I'm not talking about depression here, its something different... it's...a personality thing, not a mental state)... are they able to step in? Would we listen, or is the BIG L word too strong?

These are just questions I have ... and yes, you could say some relate to me, but then... some relate to all of us... if you are sitting there saying you haven't ever lost yourself in a relationship, think about it. Has your music taste changed? Have you not bought a certain colour or style of clothing because you thought your mate mightn't/wouldn't like it, even though you do. Have you changed your eating habits? Do you drink more, or less, or not at all? Has your sexual orientation varied? ( I know someone where this is a big issue). Have you started playing a team sport when you never thought of yourself as anything but 'flying solo'? Have you stopped doing something you love doing because now your mates work commitments come before yours?

All these things equal a relationship. And yes, in a healthy relationship there is compromise. There is also sacrifice, and love and commitment and trust and respect and and and....

And that isn't what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about in the very beginning, and the very end of a broken/breaking relationship. You can clearly see it defined. You can see it happening, the outer shapings of it. Or you can see how it happened.

It just makes me sad.

Either way.

Where do we go from here?

Why is this even a thought for me?

I think, because, deep down... we all lose our selves somewhere... when we enter into a relationship. But when it is so noticeable, my heart aches.

I think I need to go read The Missing Piece again. Just for some good, simple reassurance. If you haven't read it, you must also. It's an old children's book; but not just for children. There are a couple in the series.

Sigh.

(and hopefully, it will get the lions and tigers out of my head)

that big news

2008-05-09T07:09:00.003-05:00

... didn't happen.

or, rather, isnt going to happen.

Adding another page into my file entitled "the hate between New York and (dis)enchanted".

And if one more person tells me things happen for a reason,

I might just puke on their shoes.

(oh. and my college application got returned in the mail. reason? the stamp was 5c short. It cost the postal service more to send it back to me than it did to just fucking forward it on.)

I grumpily tore off the big, green offensive sticker, added two 75c stamps *fuck them and their anal retentiveness, i'll see that, and raise it !* and now it iwill go back today.

Monday started great.

Friday is ending with me in tears. Not depression. Just frustration; anger; loneliness and sadness.

With a touch of "fucked off" thrown in.

And in the words of my mother, and not the Beatles.... 'when i find myself in times of troubles, (my mother) always comes to me... speaking words of wisdom.......

bake something...'

Banana Bread with Maple Syrup infused raisins. Right after I OCD'd cleaned the house. Again.

Happenings

2008-05-06T08:40:00.010-05:00

The sun is out. It's nice; warming my mind ( I know that sounds weird, but... if you're reading this, you're used to weird). I haven't been outside in a couple of days really, aside from taking Miss A to the paediatrician... strep throat and vomiting is not fun for a 5 year old ( not for anyone, really). So we have been painting and nursing her health.

Sunday saw us at a 6 year old's birthday party. Fun times.... really! (Pre-illness) - so it really was a great afternoon. Well... ok, yeah, lets go with a good afternoon. Remember children's birthday parties? Cake, and ice-cream; soda and candy. Musical chairs and face-painting; friends and hot-dogs. Fruit salad and chips; laughter and chasing the boys....or being chased. It was just delight. Party dresses and pretty hair; girly squeals and boys sliding on their knees. Tears when only one person could win a game; candy thrown in the air to alleviate the tears. Non-stop music. And - thank goodness - not kiddie music ( no 'animal crackers in my soup' !)Parents standing around, talking about work; or teachers and school based happenings. The people who hosted the party are wonderful; and my luck, are sadly moving three states away in the summer. Alyssa's best friend, her first school-best-friend is moving away. The story of her life it seems.

But she had a wonderful time... I'll post some pics at the end of the blog....

I had a great time; found some new mama friends; and while eating some bruschetta-type salad, crunched down on what I thought was some very hard raw onion..."hmn" I thought, "that's a bit hard... .....

There goes my entire tongue bar, and balls. Oops. No, minus one, which I carried around in my hand, with a bewildered look. My two mama friends asked what was wrong, if I had lost something. I told them. After about 5 minutes of laughter....I realised, "these people can be friends". I found an old one in my bag, luckily.... soaked it in a pink cup, with a dash of straight vodka to sterilize, and then put it back in.

I wish that was the worst of my day.

Few hours later, I decide it's time to eat ( this party had non-stop food, and went for over 5 hours). I start eating a salad, that was between fruit salad, garden salad, the before mentioned bruschetta salad.... you get the picture. So, I eat two big spoonful's of pasta salad. Thinking to myself, this tastes funky. The mayonnaise is too rich, and its ... funky...My 'dad' friend, whom we sometimes play-date with each others kids, said, "uh... you don't want to eat that. It's chicken salad."

Thanks for the heads up. Two scoops, too late.

Head for the bathroom, feeling ill ( mind over matter? I think not....).

I soon have to leave the party, with a float of tongue bar (that still has yet to leave my body) ; and chicken mixing within me. Okay, and yes, a Bacardi and cranberry juice (yuk. wrong mix).

Husband needs to drive 2 blocks to get me. I can't walk. I end up throwing up all night ( looking for tongue bar - not finding it either - ) ... apparently the mystery chicken salad had an extra flavouring, "wrong".

I really just think my body has a natural aversion to it.

So that was fun. Make friends; lose body functions.

Then, I guess there's bigger news - from this week. My college/university application is in. It's processed, and I find out soon which school I potentially will be calling 'mine'.

YAY !!

This is B.I.G. news. I've been waiting for so long for this, and finally, yesterday, it was done.

I have just as B.I.G. news too; but I'm not sharing that yet.

I gotta have something else to write about later this week.

8am wake up call

2008-05-03T09:16:00.002-05:00

This morning I was woken with some random discussion ( ok, it wasn't random, it was very intense, but there were a lot of random shifts and changes within it). I got up to make french toast, and my phone rang. Too early in the morning for it to be anyone here; I knew it could be either Australia, or England. Bingo, Australia. My 'biological' father called me....."searching for a name to call him to not make it sound awkward, and not confuse with the Dad that I already use on here....."

So, "Top Gear Dad" (hah..like that BBC TV reference, eh?) calls, and discusses a few things. Mostly that they are planning a trip to the UK next year, and are already saving for an extra jump across the atlantic to come and visit. Then he gets into the business end of things.

The guidance and advice.

It was heartwarming; gentle; loving... non judgemental; coming from a place of pure concern and care. We related on something that no one I know can ever come close to understanding. Tears welled up, when I could hear his voice waver. I know that he knows what he is talking about. No therapist; no Dr, no well meaning friend.. can even come close. It makes a difference; not just to know that he understands; but as the child within myself; to know that he shared the same feelings as I do now, even if it was 25 years ago, even if it was 25 times less as how I feel now. Even knowing he *gets* it.

FUCK !!! The feeling... such a healing thought.

And then, talking about medication; and how he also understands, and can relate somehow; how its similar to this, and that, and how E must be feeling the brunt of it; empathizing with my husband; telling me "when theres love, you can get through".. but not in a wanky kind of way. In a real, "I know" kind of way.

I kept trying to ask how he is, and his family. I got 2 second intervals. Then thrown back to me. That wasn't why he called. It was to talk to me.

The clincher? That made me cry into a paper napkin at the kitchen table at 830am on a Saturday morning?

He said, "listen, I love you. I really love you. I'm not sure I've said that.. or too much. But I do."

I quietly sobbed, "thank you. I love you too."

And we hung up.

I don't think he has either. If not, not much. And not like that. Like he really meant every single word he said in that 17 minute and 55 second conversation.

And, you know what...

It really was a wake up call.

Every. Single. Word.

Sticks and swords

2008-04-26T22:08:00.007-05:00

I know I have some, at times, crazy health issues. It's fair to say and I don't pretend about it either. However, I don't generally go putting these, uh, quirks on display. Not to the greater public. I can't afford to be paying out for all those therapy sessions for random people!

New York City comes complete, on any given day, with about 10 million people. It is a statistical fact, no kidding, fact... ( we did research ) that 98% of these are fucking insane. Not just quiet, "I might go postal one day if you don't give me a quarter for my parking meter". I mean, "pouring liquids over our body on a day that isnt even hot while whistling the theme to Mary Poppins with Spanish undertones and wearing rainboots" kind of crazy.

So... let me just give you a brief example of something...some thingsss that happened this week. And I had witnesses. My craziness isn't.. uh...imaginary. So shut up. Yes, you with the rubber chicken.

(can you tell the new drugs are starting to kick in and I'm feeling a tiny, tiny bit more like myself, for half a second or so?)

Crazyman case number 1 ......

On the A train ( I know. Don't get me started, ok. It was *that* day....but I was too distraught to share my funny story *that* day last week) My friend and I were sitting, heading towards Washington Square Park where I would leave Dani to... oh.. you know what happened. Anyway.. sitting, chatting... a fellow NYC'er comes on the train.. ipod in ears...fedex uniform..it's quittin' time for him.. lucky man..sitting there, groovin' to his tunes...then he starts to.. I don't know how to accurately explain this one... squeal...his delight in his song listening moment.... He's singing quietly, but he wants to bust out a beat, you can see it. And the constraints of being on a crowded train is getting too much... so he kind of squeals the lyrics/humming. Dani and I turn and try not to burst out laughing; not so much AT fedex man, but just at his passion. Must be a groovin' song, let me tell you.

No. He's just plain fucking nuts. Because then, he gets out a folded napkin, neatly unwraps it, carefully unravels something, and very lovingly places it in his mouth, as if it were a nice, Cuban cigar.

It was a wonderfully, manicured, stick.

A STICK !!!!!

And he chews/holds it in his mouth, like a cigar or cigarette. Intermittently, letting out a squeal in place of a burst of a beat of music.

NUT JOB in car 7, downtown A train. Confirmed.

Dani gets off the train, giving me a squeeze of a hug. I think it was more of a "be strong. Don't go near the stick man"... but we try not to acknowledge his presence.. which is hard, as he is right next to us.

I'm left on the A train, zooming off to a destination I apparently don't need to go to, with a squealing man, picking bark from his tongue, holding a cooler and smiling at the world.

Averting my eyes righttttt about...... NOW.

Crazyman case number 2...... ( notice they are men???? hmnnnn)

Beautiful spring day in NYC, Dani and I take another gorgeous opportunity to experience the sights and offerings of my city, before she goes back to exploring the rest of this pebble we call Earth. We eat at a restaurant that I now cannot declare vegetarian status in....seared marinated salmon is too hard to pass up in "Republic"; and we are tempted far too quickly into some pre-summer Mojito's ( also pre-new meds for me, so pphhtt to those who are quick to jump up and down ) ... by our server. It had something to do with the herbs...fair trade for the lemonade we were going to get anyway...

So after lunch we did a little meandering through my favourite "big" bookstore at Union Square; discussing the classics; with me taking mental notes that Dani is far more 'read' than I and it's about time I did something about that; taking absolute "piss" out of *very australian saying* wedding books; self help books (God help me now if I ever have to resort to a book asking me to write when I first realised I was nagging my husband about him putting his dirty clothes on the floor); and cupcake books that although looked pretty, made my teeth ache just thinking about the amount of sugar needed to hold them up ( and really, who wants to eat a cupcake that looks like peas and corn?)

We had some time to 'kill' out in the awesome sunshine, so we headed down towards Washington Square Park, or what is left of it, as the City justifies it's budget and tears up the fountain that had really no fault....while they make a different one and replace it... two years later. Sigh. So we sit, me drinking gallons of water, and Dani wishing she could lay in the tulips. Not just sit by them, but literally lay IN them. Not allowed...nope...so we decided we'd take photos, when we'd leave. But sitting, for now, watching the 9.8 million crazy people walk past. Some wearing leather jackets and ugg boots *(its not hard to look outside the window in the morning and see.. oh look.. sunshine....get a t-shirt on, people, it's spring!!); or tight, oh lord, too tight, white, short jumpsuits; ( mirrors aren't that hard to come by either); and other generally amazing fashion oddities, that are only really odd because we were sitting in one of the so-called fashion capitals of the world? I'm not even going to mention people and their lame, ridiculous tiny dogs. No. I won't even go there.

So a little two person band is playing. One on steel drums, and the other.. you know.. I can't remember, but it wasn't well timed. It was like they were playing together, but not together. At times it was almost like they were competing for air space. But they were a duet. Poorly timed or not, it gave the park some life, and something to focus on, and they were happy and content to sit at the back and just play, for a long time too. Everyone else, sitting there, in the warm sun; with soft gentle breeze; the smell of tulips (uncrushed by Dani) were also very happy to have them there.

And then came the Caped Citrus Crusader from Crazyland.

Again, right infront of us. We had nowhere to turn, sitting on our park bench. One old lady got up and left, and I swear, moved faster than she had in 20 years. She wanted no part in his "I need a volunteer" bullshit that she knew was inevitable.

He 'warmed up' for half an hour. Longer maybe, but we really didn't pay attention. He set up his video camera; he set his orange on the floor. He put his cape on; set his swords in place; one by his right side, one, no wait... lets move it to the left; ok, I'll start speaking, but not loud enough for anyone to hear, and I'll continue to move around my camera, getting the settings right, because apparently it's all about him, and needing a sponsor to get out of the park.

And, if you don't mind, just "imagine" its a broad sword he has. because they are better, and more something. but he doesnt endorse swords, its not about them. its about him. and the talent. or something. he wasn't too specific.

Oh and for the love of God, all this traffic infront of his street audience. All this street traffic. Who would have thought. It gets in the way. Now he has to stop his routine, and rewind his video tape. Which was taping what?

The ORANGE !! He was, the great swashbuckling crazyman, going to cut it up ( with wooden swords) for all to share. Everyoneeeee !!!!!!!! But now, with all the traffic, and the tape.. he has to wait.... (insert foot tapping here) ....... ( swish cape here ) ........ ( nervous sword touching here ) .....

Exit two Australians who wanted to throw the orange at crazymans head, and show him how many pieces THEY could make out of it !!

I'm telling you.

Fucking insane people. Overtly insane. In your face insane.

AND i HATE oranges !!!

New York is a place of diversity; culture; entertainment and varying lifestyle. I'm sure you can find these types of people anywhere in your world, too. But for some reason, NYC breeds them with flair !!

Big, Bold, Colourful, Crazy, Flair !

I guess, though.. it does make you smile, once in a while. Thats gotta be good for somethin'.

so you know...

2008-04-20T11:47:00.003-05:00

(because i can tell when people log in, and who they are, and how long they are here, and how often they come)

(yes, you)

i'm doing fine.

if you wanted to know... you could just ask me. it's easier.

i know this is some peoples' only means of catching up with me, when time differences are rough.. and i've got a lot to say, and so its a "read this before we talk"... which is fine.

but for those who stand in the background, and don't even bother emailing or asking... i don't know.. that's bordering on just being fucking weird and rude.

but that's just how i see it.

every day i'm doing better, and knowing i handled my introversion in the best possible way, and am coming out of it.. as someone put it.. "rising out like the phoenix"... well... i'm happy most of the time, and the rest... i'm building strength..

so yeah.. doing ok....thanks for asking.

oh wait. you didnt.

sigh.

When nice days turn sour

2008-04-18T09:13:00.003-05:00

So I said I was taking a break. What I have to write about – the monstrosity of an epic – is bringing me out of forced retirement for just a moment.

Today is a gorgeous day, I should be outside, in the sunshine somewhere. I will get there, but I need to let all this go, otherwise it’s going to float around inside me, churning around, eating me up, until something gives. And it’s very safe to say, I know exactly how awful that could be.

Yesterday, Miss D and I took a very, very long walk from downtown Manhattan, all the way up to Central Park. Yes, there are cabs and subways, but we liked the 70-something block walk in the warm spring sunshine. I got to point out the little bits I knew of the city, and we got to experience the sights, sounds and.. eh.. smells of where I now apparently call home.

Collapsing onto the cool grass in Central Park with matching lunches and coffees, we talked more, about this and that. Sighting very unsightly things; such as old wrinkly men lathering up in way too much sun-block for the no-UV-day. Avert eyes to cute squirrels, quick!

Life was really feeling ok. Lingering sadness, and slight depression – come on, lets be realistic here, a warm sunny day and an egg salad sandwich in the park isn’t that intoxicating. I’ve been through hell for 4 months…I’m not delusional. But I really was feeling less stressed than I have lately, and more clarity than any allergy medicine could offer!

Time to go get Miss A from school. Grumbling that I would have to take the A train and transfer somewhere further down, and how much of a pain it would be, but never mind.. we get on the train, and later part ways…while I sit and listen to some music.. content and happy with the way I’m starting to feel. Quitting my job was first and foremost the best thing I have done. I didn’t realize how stressed and upset it was making me, and how detrimental it was becoming to my life. As the stations go by, I’m realizing none of them are the one’s I’m looking for. I look at the time.

Fuck!

Where am I, and how do I NOT have any time to get to Miss A?

The train I’m on does not stop at the stop I’m thinking it does, to transfer to the train I need to be on, to get to my daughter in time. I’ve left over 1.5 hours to get her. And now, I’m going to be cutting it short.

Fuck !!

I get off the train. Rockaway. Even I know that that is Nowhere near where I need to be. Race back to get the same train back into somewhere else. Get off. Transfer to the F. Find a spot to call my husband, at work, crying, after I nearly throw up on the train in anxiety. I screwed up. I can’t get our daughter. After even having pneumonia, and not being able to move, I’ve still managed to drag myself to get her. And now this. He sorted it out. Tells me how to get home (my head is confused, and I can barely work out how to get to the other side of the platform. Stupid retarded uptown/downtown trains, like a dumbass Rod Stewart Song ) Go onto the F again, further into the city, interestingly, to the same station I said goodbye to Miss D on, over an hour ago, then wait for the D train…. D train back to Brooklyn, cross to the R….and I’m back on solid, familiar ground.

2.5 hours later.

FUCK !!!!

Storming home, I get inside, to giggles from Miss A – “ you got on the wrong tra-ain”.

Funny.

Husband was smirking.

While I want to vomit. Nice. I’m thinking to myself, “story time at school tomorrow is going to be great!”

I curl into bed for a few minutes… trying to work out where I went wrong. Most likely I should have not done anything unfamiliar… etc…etc… I’m trying to cut out any extra stimulus… to regroup… who do I think I am, taking on the A train? Laugh to myself…and then, the doorbell…

I go down, to 4 police officers, 2 EMS officers and, as it turns out, all my neighbours hanging around casually outside on this glorious spring afternoon.

‘uh.. yeah? You found my wallet?’

“no. ma'am? How you doing”

“good”

“everything ok?”

“it was.”

Ok… long, 5 hour story ensues. Basically, here is the rundown. In the end, after a slight mix-up, where they thought they were needing to speak with my husband, and he got interrogated, which was very fun for him… especially seeing as he went to college with one of the police officers… they all came back into my apartment.. and said they had a call from someone, saying they feared I was.. uh..well.. lets say.. I wasn’t taking care of myself so well, and that I might be in danger of hurting myself.

For the love of God ! I’m pulling myself together…

There was no way I couldn’t have them leave, without me leaving with them. Law, apparently, given I admitted that I had been depressed recently, and that I take medication for Bipolar. Fuckers.

What was the result? Walking out in front of neighbours, into an ambulance, going to the hospital, with husband and Miss A following, having to go to the psych section of the hospital ( not an area you ever, ever want to see. Let me just explain this right now. Ever.) I had to strip down, naked, in front of a woman, in the bathroom, and put a robe on. I could keep my shoes, as they had no laces. And then I sat, I answered questions from 3 nurses, at different times, all the same questions, while they waited for the Dr. In the end they realized I was actually ok, yes, depressed, but actively doing the right thing to make things better in my life, and that no, I was in no danger of hurting myself, or others around me. But I had to wait for the doctor. 3 hours. Sitting almost naked, in a sealed room, with just a bed and a white sheet. No door handle. I noticed that. What was I going to do, poke my eye out? The Dr came… spoke with me for 3 minutes, said I was doing good; had all the right things in place; it was good I could see my weaknesses and was trying to strengthen them; that I pulled my own Dr’s appointment forward; that the police probably shouldn’t have acted but they have to; that I was aware my medication wasn’t working so well, and that I was all good to go. Yes, I could also get dressed now. Oh, and where in Australia am I from? Because he’d just got back from Melbourne, Sydney and Canberra. We chatted more about that, than about why 4 police officers had to bring me into his hospital.

Mortifying.

Plain and simple.

While I value the fact people care about me; I really wish that they could also see that when someone has their own internal way of dealing with stress and sadness, they respect it. None of this would have happened if the person who made the call could stand back and just give me room to nurture myself, instead of assuming everyone deals with their depression the same way.

What did I learn?

Story time can always get more interesting.

6 big, heavily uniformed officers standing in my kitchen while I try and do the dishes gives a really oppressive feeling.

I don’t ever want to see my neighbours again. Ever.

Being naked in public, that ‘worst nightmare’ … really is sickening.

I’m a lot stronger today, than I was yesterday.

One day I will laugh at this. Happy Birthday Mel. I was thinking of you.

making the cull

2008-04-14T12:41:00.002-05:00

So I made a decision.

I'm cutting out a fair amount from my life.

I quit my job... just spoke to one of the owners then. Just then.

I'm deleting my facebook account - the place I would hang out at and have some fun with my friends on.. leave messages and stuff...

I'm leaving flickr - only because some of those photos I don't have on file anymore. And really, it's benign. No one, including me, really goes there anyway, so it doesn't really bother my life anymore.

And that leaves this.

Which is going too.

So.. if for one day you type in the little "not giving in" lie.... which it is... because I am... on everything... and it isn't there anymore... well, don't blame me.

I guess you could, but I wont be here to listen.

I need peace. From myself.

I'm tired. I'm tired of not being well. I want it to go away.

Home

2008-04-13T13:43:00.004-05:00

I came to write something... but it's gone.

Much like my purse that was stolen last night, and all the cash I worked the weekend for. And my visa and immigration cards; drivers license etc etc...

I want to say I had a good night - well, I did, hanging with Miss D, riding a kangaroo on 3rd Avenue...you really had to be there...it was very funny. I'm sure to others as well. But that purse stealing thing has really given a dark cloud over the whole thing. I try to think of something noble like, "someone else needed the money more than me"... well that's just crap. That money was meant to be for my college application, and for my thyroid medication. I finally had enough to send that damn paperwork in!

As you can see, I'm vexed !

The crazy thing was, I nearly took Miss D down at one point in the night, thinking she was some random getting too close to our bags! My subconscious knew some shit was gonna happen... sigh.

I have a song in my head.. again.. this time it's a country singer, singing a Michael Buble tune "Home"..... you know the one...

.....
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I’ve got to go home

Let me go home
I’m just too far from where you are
I wanna come home...

I need warmth.. I still have this cough.. and I need it to go away. I sound like a dying elephant seal. I know home is heading into winter, but honestly... it's got to be warmer than here. This isn't even spring. The trees are budding, but it's really pathetic. Cold, chilly winds, and grey, oppressive skies.

It's not even a want anymore.

I'm dying to go home.

My friends who know me are right - I've lost myself here.

had it...

2008-04-11T10:28:00.003-05:00

my dad used to have this saying, and being a big, tall, "burly" guy... it was kinda powerful...

he would bellow, "ive had it up to here with you lot"... and storm out of the room.

well thats how I feel.

i've had it. right up to there.

and that's not even a point on my diminishing frame.

(shut up.. i ate yesterday.)

insomnia. side effects from the drugs i take regularly. stress from whats going on. not being able to be me. life.

when did i stop being me??? when did i lose control of who i am?? when did i fear my own judgement or doubt my own ability? when the fuck did that happen?? damnit ?!?!?!

ive got a lot on my mind.. thats fair to say...

want to know how much??

i had surgery on tuesday.. did i tell you that? no..maybe not. ok. so i had surgery. i never wake out of anaesthetic very well... asthma attack, or it takes me hours... so i was wondering what would happen.. i preemptively took my inhaler.. good geek child...

i could hear someone half yelling, half just ranting at the doctor, surrounded by the floral curtains and overbearingly bright lights. there were 5 nurses around. it seemed like a hundred, but there were just 5, i counted later. the doctor was smiling a half smile, patiently staring, while this voice was ranting, though i dont know, i couldnt make out what it was. it was weird. just yelling at him. constant, yarp, yarp, telling him this and that, fears and anger and sadness.... and then... as I lay there, post surgery, i realise.

that voice is mine.

as soon as i realise it, my mouth shuts. the doctor smiles. and walks away. the nurses get busy doing their thing, and life goes on.

i was letting out this constant stream of abuse at the doctor, about God knows what, for God knows how long, and I had no idea it was me talking, and I had no control over it at all.

Damn drugs.

I insisted they call him back, but he was gone. So I insist the nurses page him.. which they did, although they tell me it isnt necessary... that everyone has their own reaction. "some people hit. some people cry".... "not me. I dont do that"... So he calls back, and i somehow manage to crawl, basically, to the nurses station, to talk on the phone, so i can apologise. My Dr is wonderful, and is completely ok with it, of course, and says I didn't have to apologise, of course, but says, "Michaela, you sure do have a lot going on, and a great deal on your mind".

No kidding.

I crawl back into bed, where I want to die. Really.

Instead I find out Ive also been calling the nice nurse my husband, interestingly, and now all I want to do is just go home...but then I wonder if thats going to be any better.

To add confusion, it is. The husband takes care of me, the best way a husband ever could. I wonder if I should get operated on every day to feel that sort of love and affection. Im sure theres an illness like that.

And now, 3 days later, life is back to how it was 3 days before.

I dont want the rollercoaster anymore.

I've had it up to here, I tell you !!

A breath of fresh (home) air

2008-04-07T07:38:00.003-05:00

Call me naive ( ok don't, I might get upset, but go with me on this ), but I kind of thought I was the only Australian in NYC. Maybe there were a few tourists. But certainly the only one actually residing here, especially, especially in this part of Brooklyn. So imagine my surprise when a whole table (10 or so) of 'the aussies' (they've named themselves, but its kinda obvious) come to 'dine' where I work. Who actually live here, and have been for a few years! Can you imagine?! People who talk like me.. who, sadly I know, barrack * i can use this word because it's a very aussie term * for Collingwood. People who say, "can I have 2 chardonnays" and the bartender asks me to translate, because he thinks the guy has said " can I have two shot in the eyes". Bizarre. Hilarious.

Imagine.. if you could... a pie shop, right in Brooklyn, that sells meat pies. Real ones. And vegetable ones too. AND they sell flat whites. Real coffee. Not coffee from 1983. The joy. These people have turned me to a whole new thought and way of living here. Ex-pat style. ANZAC day bbq's in the city; social football teams; softball teams; Aussies hanging out and feeling less alone.

WHO KNEW?

Ok. Everyone can say it now. I'm slightly retarded. I know this is how people who emigrate to other countries end up living in their own 'sections' of the cities; how they form clubs and such. I went to an Irish parade on the weekend. But Australians? In New York?

I know what I'm doing on the 26th.. and it isn't making my own cookies this year!

And then... on an even better ( could it get any better from that, right now.. right when I'm feeling so freaking alone?) ...note... I've had the most awesome; absolutely cool; tingling; wow-thats-what-it-feels-like-to-smile pleasure of having one of my best friends from home come and hang with me in NY. She is here for 3 weeks.. so there will be stories, and there will be laughter. And the timing, as I mentioned, could not have been more perfect. It feels like she has lived here forever, or that she should live here forever, and life is just life. No holiday; no special fanfare; just doing what we're doing. It sure does feel good to have someone near me, be on my level. I've missed real friends. Talking about real things. Friends with real values and judgments. Friends who share all this with me; who just... I dont know... who are just the same...Miss Dan certainly encompasses all that. And more. SO much more !

And on that note... I better get ready.. a girl/soul enriching day of completely necessary pampering is in order.

And for two Australian chicks, on the outer edges of Brooklyn, NY.... feeling out of place will not be an option.

Singing dodgy aussie rock songs, however, might be.

Just for fun !

"I left my heart to the sappers round Khe Sanh............"

To soothe...and to shine

2008-04-03T12:39:00.002-05:00

And now that I had to purge that from my broken soul.. I wanted to share something, with myself.. so that when I look back on this in years to come, I can be reminded of how totally awesome that little funky girl is in my life...

Last night, being our anniversary.. and not having all too much to celebrate.. as you just read.. I decided to take Miss A out to the worst Mexican Restaurant in walking distance of our home. Not too hard to do. Really. There was a reason for this... we ate at the very best mexican restaurant I've ever encountered a year ago... and it was the happiest day of my life (choking back tears here)...so... with things the way they are... lets go all down hill.. food and all... though, the lemonade, apparently, was up to par.

So, we eat, and feast, and have a good time. Miss A completely doing a wonderful job at cheering me up, and I doing apparently a great job at delighting her by .. I don't know.. being silly. We go to the bathroom.. She holds my hand, and says, "i dont want to ever have to have another mama. Ok?"

I melt. I tell her, "of course not. I'm yours for life, baby" and we get silly doing silly scrunchy kisses. She then tells me she loves my new tattoo. I tell her thank you. She asks, again for the thousandth time, what it says. I say, "it says strength". She makes little muscles out of her thin arms, and says, "like that?" ... Laughing, I say... "well, uh.. sort of... it kind of means...."

She grabs my hand, looks at me and says, "I know mama. I know."

So I cry silent, salty tears, in a brightly lit mexican bathroom, and we walk out, bouncing back to our table, ready to finish our very average food, but not so average night.

She turns to me and says, the last clincher ( after someone on staff had gone and bought her an icecream, noting it was not on the menu, and hearing me say we would leave and get one at the store) " A lot of people like us mama, because you shine".

I don't for one minute think it's me that shines. I think I'm the just mirror.

One Year

2008-04-03T07:44:00.003-05:00

It took one year.

For it to be over.

There are some things that when you hear, you just cannot deal with. "being over" might be one of them... the other "primary care" is the other.

Raw emotion is something everyone has, and rightly so, should be able to express... in times of passion.

I can say, without a doubt, I passionately feel these words. And I display how I feel them. It's normal, and natural. For anyone with a heart, a soul and some energy.

It's over. Apparently so.

But that doesn't mean it's the end.

Far, far from it.

Strength is not just a simple one syllable word on my arm. It goes much deeper.

You'll see.

Sleepy Messages

2008-03-25T11:32:00.002-05:00

I've got a cold. When I cough, I'm scared it will turn to something worse..it's too soon to get sick again. So today I gave my body a rest, and slept a hazy a couple of hours, as a didn't get a good sleep through the night ( who could with a head more full of crap than a crayfish?)

I awoke just now with a powerful urgency. No, not to reach for kleenex. I had some words floating in my head, surprising because there's not much room in there for anything..... But there they were. I had to sit for a few minutes and work out what they were.

Lyrics...yes... we knew that....

Missy Higgins. Ok... I got that within a minute... but the song.. I have shamefully not listened to Missy for quite a while, unless she pops up on shuffle on my ipod, and that hasn't happened for a while.... I sit, thinking.. it's not one of my 'girl' songs - it doesn't remind me of home. It has to be a new song.

Suddenly I know.

Fuck.

Talk about my subconscious reaching out to me, within my own self.....while my body has forced itself to be down and out....so I have no other way but to lay there and listen.

Where I stood - Missy Higgins

and so you can sing along, or revel in my shock and ...sadness...

I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none

There were sounds in my head
Little voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

See I thought love was black and white
That it was wrong or it was right
But you ain't leaving without a fight
And I think I am just as torn inside

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

And I won't be far from where you are if ever you should call
You meant more to me than anyone I ever loved at all
But you taught me how to trust myself and so I say to you
This is what I have to do

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood
Oh, she who dares to stand where I stood

I have to go. Shares in Kleenex will go up again this week. Tears and boogers. Great mix.

Choices

2008-03-24T10:18:00.002-05:00

I've made some wrong choices.

I've made some incorrect decisions.

I'm picking up the pieces.

I'm taking some sort of responsibility, and while it's hurting, and cutting, and sometimes I feel like a failure....

I'm starting to feel better.

And I can't be broken this way again.

Re Birth

2008-03-23T19:27:00.003-05:00

It's Easter Sunday. Today, if I were back home, I'd be enjoying some sort of roast lamb, *well, i wouldnt, but I would be there*, and I would be surrounded by family, and fun, and a house full of craziness. In some true sense of the word, and some lightness.

There would be too much food. Maybe, to match, too much alcohol. And chocolate.

Today, I made an easter egg trail for my daughter through the house, which led to (she counted) a total of 103 easter eggs. Small ones, but still. I cooked a roast lamb - for two people who eat meat. I am half way through the one and only beer I will drink tonight. We didn't entertain.

I didn't get to call my kids because the phone card wouldnt connect, and my ovaries burst (I'm not exaggerating on this one. They really have) so I have had a constant reminder of how crap I feel as a disconnected parent, and continued stabbing pain the entire weekend.

Miss A said she thinks she loves Easter Bunny more than Santa, but wanted me to make sure the bunny wasn't in the bathroom this morning before she went to pee.

I missed my family more than I could breathe, about 6 times today.

This, however, was made easier by the fact that I called home on Good Friday, which also coincided with my Dad's birthday. 51 Minutes of broken phone connection wonder. It really was time. I was wiped out the next day - walking around like an emotional zombie.. but it was definitely needed, and even Ellen the slightly simple waitress at the diner I frequent and discuss 'home' with was so pleased to hear I'd called.

Go us. Go connection.

Go re birth. Time for change. For letting go. Forgiveness. Moving forward.

On Good Friday - to bury the old wounds and hurt, and today, to feel like moving ahead, bringing new life and love to it....

there's some positive stuff happening right there, I can be sure.

It hurts to be torn apart, missing so many people, so far away.. but it helps when you reconnect. Trust me, it really does.

As my new tattoo says, it truly does, give me strength.

Grey Street

2008-03-13T10:33:00.002-05:00

Usually I say how I'm stealing someones lyrics because I can't think of something else to write.

This is what my heart has been writing. Someone just got there first.

I've had to make a very large decision the last day or two..which actually is still ongoing. Everyone has their own 'life decisions', or monumental life 'stuff' going on; but to me, this is pretty fucking huge. Who do I have to turn to for guidance? Professional staff. And a new friend, who is actually more supportive and knowledgeable and helpful than anyone I've met here. Only, unfortunately, thats because she has been through some of what I'm going through...but in turn that makes me hesitant to put too much on her...how much possibly hurts her... and then... well, we're still 'new' .. you know.. ??

Anyway, I'm facing something I haven't faced before. I'm refusing. But I'm facing it. I'm feeling things collectively worse than 2 combined 'tragic' moments in my life. And if you're trying to guess... you've got no fucking clue... so forget it. But this song... my heart... knows. And I expect, within a few days, some answers will arise.

Theres an old quote about two certain things in life - death and taxes. For me.. there's only two certain things - life will get better. Or it clearly wont.

We'll see.

Grey Street - Dave Matthews And Tim Reynolds

Oh look at how she listens
She says nothing of what she thinks
She just goes stumbling through her memories
Staring out onto Grey St.
And she thinks...hey
How did I come to this
I dreamed myself thousand times around the world
But I can't get out of this place
There's an emptiness inside her
And she'd do anything to fill it in
But all the colors mix together
To grey, and it breaks her heart

Oh how she wishes it was different
She prays to God most every night
And though she swears He doesn't listen
There's still a hope in her He might
She says I pray
But they falls on deaf ears
Am I supposed to take it on myself
To get out of this place
There's a loneliness inside her
And she'd do anything to fill it in
And though it's red blood bleeding from her now,
It feels like cold blue ice in her heart

When all the colors mix together
It's grey, and it breaks her heart

There's a stranger speaks outside her door
Says take what you can from your dreams
Make them real as anything
It will take the work out of the courage
She says please
There's a crazy man creeping that's outside my door
I live on the corner of Grey Street
And the end of the world

Oh there's an emptiness insider her
And she'd do anything to fill it in
And though it's red blood bleeding from her now
It's more like cold blue ice in her heart
She feels like kicking out all the windows
And setting fire to this life
She could change everything about her
Using colors bold and bright
But all the colors mix together
To grey
And it breaks her heart...Oh and it breaks her heart
To grey, Yeah...

A glimmer of laughter

2008-03-11T11:41:00.002-05:00

There's no denying that things haven't been a bowl of fruit-loops around here lately. The Bee household hasn't exactly been buzzing with fun and happiness, and this particular chicken hasn't really been doing too well at all. Fair to say. So last night, in an attempt at some sort of remedy/salvation/distraction/necessity to eat... we all go out for dinner.

I laughed twice. It's almost sad that I can still count how many times.. but anyway....

Here's why.

On the way to the 'restaurant' (lets say its a restaurant, but i wont confuse you. its a Brititsh chip shop, that does ok fish, and very average chips. but its closer than going back home to Hillary's..so.. what are you gonna do? there's malt vinegar on the table and pictures of the queen next to double decker buses and jars of branston pickles.. im ok with that.. oh and i picked up some Crunchie bars for later).... anyway.. so we are driving there, and Miss A points out the window ( we can't really see where she is pointing.. it's dark. She says, "is that where you guys got married?"

We both look, and at the same time, see "Funeral Home"

We laugh and say, "why yes... it appears it seems so".

The other thing that made me laugh, the Mr not so.... but Miss A was awarded an extra special hug....

We were eating, and discussing how some of her friends can speak other languages. I said I knew her friend Franca could speak two languages... not to be outdone, Miss A said, " i can speak three!"

"really, baby... how so?"

" I can speak some spanish....american... and I speak english!!"

There is absolutely no argument coming from me.

If only the night ended in the same light heartedness.. but it was still a glimmer. Something to hold onto.. knowing that she is brought a smile.. then again.. she always does.

Non-Confrontational....who me?

2008-03-05T12:55:00.003-05:00

I don't know if you knew that about me..but it's true.. I really don't like to get up in someone's face and get hurtful. I can talk about it, bitch and complain, but in the end, i just don't want to hurt their feelings. I think that's why I hold onto things for so long... friendships...relationships...therapists... hah..for so long. Well anyway.. I kind of just slip away, and you just won't hear from me for a while.. and then it's even longer.. and then it will be a year before you think..or I think..hmn.. I wonder how *that person* is doing now? Well that's what I did with my Uncle Charlie. Not my *real* Uncle... he's the most wonderful guy ever... I mean this guy I'd go sit and talk to about random things for an hour every week. But then it got boring, and wasn't really going anywhere.. and so now I slipped away.... and by the grace of God, or perhaps medical insurance, found someone who, after one session, has blown my world (gently) apart.

You know when you can just pay someone to listen to you talk, and bitch about things, and you know instantly they are going to fill you with "ah hahs" and "ohhh's".... well. This isn't one of them. All day today, I've been half comatose, laying in bed, trying to make some sort of sense of what just happened. The best way to describe it is, like wild e. coyote getting hit by an anvil, though made of feathers and glue.... but he still had no fucking idea where it came from.. and now he's looking around, wondering... "what?" "how was that so fucking clear to you that it was right there" " how did you see that, in 2.3 seconds, and i'm running around this barren desert my entire life trying to avoid it"...

and now im drained, and all i want to do is sit and think. and ive done so much thinking, it's time to write...

so.. uh... just be warned !

oh, and it mightnt make anyyyyy sense to you. but it's not about you... as always...its about me ;-)

(i can still have some sarcasm even if i feel like ive been beat up with a chicken..or a road runner....)

What I've Been Doing Lately

2008-03-04T08:58:00.003-05:00

It's been one of those months. If you've read along, and yes.. I know you have... I can tell... you'll know that I've been sick. I've still actually got this disgusting, lingering cough, that annoys the crapola out of me, and most likely everyone around me...though I don't really care about the latter. I am now able to walk a mile or so without wanting an oxygen machine, but it's a stretch. I think really, it's just because it's so fucking cold outside, that nothing in the universe can breathe without wanting to curl up and die. Can you tell I'm ready for summer? And yes, disclaimer will come soon enough about how disgusting New York summers are..but trust me when I say this...they are not as awful as right here, right now.

So anyway... I'm slowly getting better; the fog in my head is lifting *shut up* it really is.. and I've been able to do a few small things. Notably....

*** Go on Miss A's school trip (again) with her, and 46 other class mates (two classes, one big, yellow bus, a great deal of noise, and absolutely no coffee. what????) I love them...the trips. I get to go on all of them. By request of the teachers. We had fun, as usual, and the kids at the end of the day, after sending the other parents home (which, let me tell you, aren't too many), asked me to stay with them and have lunch ( watch me sprint to the 7-11 on the corner and get a 20oz coffee....the most divine lunch in the world after that experience! ) ... it was so cute... Hanging out with Miss A's little friends; talking about their favourite tv shows; lunch snacks; the school trip; who is bossy in the classroom; who is naughty... it was fun. All the while trying not to cough on the poor babies so they don't end up in a peadiatric ward somewhere! Good times. Miss A loved it.. she didn't even get to sit next to me, though she was ok with that.. she came to check and see I was ok every now and then, and we gave kisses. It was very cute... I like to see her interact with her friends, without being so close...

*** Let me tell you something else that can restore a girls heart. A manicure/pedicure/ jewellery shopping/ coffee drinking trip with a fun new friend on a day when you feel like you want to tear your heart out and leave it in the nastiest garbage can on the side of the road. That, I can honestly say, is soul enriching. Talking about nonsensical stuff; or deep, intimate secrets... it helps. It makes you feel like you belong; like you are a part of a friendship that has some sort of meaning. Even if that meaning is not 'leaps and bounds'.. but something. It's one of those things where the physical things, like the mani/pedi make you feel beautiful on the outside, but the disclosures, the discussions, the talking... makes your heart feel nourished on the inside. People need people. They need friends. To be understood, to be heard. Without that small little day, with a peanut butter and jelly face chick.. I really don't know how I would have made it through the last few days. Really. I wonder if she even knows that.

*** I've been listening to a lot of music lately. Not my usual ipod stuff.. Ive updated some older stuff... if that wasn't the weirdest oxymoron ever. Music soothes me, and when I'm soaking in the tub, with a glass of wine, hot water soothing my (no kidding, annoying as hell) cough, my ipod streams the best music. Or when I'm walking down the streets here, trying to block out the continual sirens and horns honking and irritating, shitty accents, I need something to soothe me. Is it relaxing music? Of course. Does it transport (remember that?) Yes. Is it quiet? No. I've been really feeling Nirvana.....Pearl Jam....Guns n Roses... music from a time when I was teenager.. music that reminds me of so many things, so many places; people...feelings..emotions.. One song, from GNR reminds me of my brother, that makes me weep. Just softly weep. Another song, from Nirvana reminds me. Just reminds me. And there is nothing better than that.

*** I've been doing a whole bunch of running around doing paperwork; which is getting me nowhere. Every time I try and access something; it's not the right thing. I don't know the right services here, or the right branches, and it's frustrating. I feel even more stupid because this has to do with school. I think they need to set a GPA just to get the paperwork organised to even get into colleges. Blah.

*** Facebook. I'm loving it. Random fun when you've got nothing else to do.

*** I think I've become addicted to VitaminWater XXX . I just had to throw that in there. It's about all I drink. And I'm addicted to potato and corn chowder...sounds weird...but oh.my.god. Heaven in a bowl.

Battery dying. It's about as tired as I am, apparently.

Lucky... I kinda don't have much to say anymore anyway..

It's all wrong..

2008-03-02T13:46:00.004-05:00

I don't usually cry. And when I do, it is never in public. So when I cry, not once, but twice, with more than 3 people around, its really, really bizarre. Especially when I thought I was all done with tears. The first time was legit. I mean, I was getting a well meaning, 'dad' kind of talk about life and such. Ok, thats fair. But then I cry last night at work because some ass that I work with treats me like shit. And I'm ready to smack him over the head, or walk out.

Finding my zen........finding my zen.......

Anyway, so I figure I really need to write down the random, random things that go on, because they are either going to make a good book, or at least make me laugh next time I need it. Last night was a good example. The idea of not drinking as much, while being in a bar, is hilarious. I dont know how I become the responsible one.... girls... stop laughing... its just how it happened... but its too funny. And the stories people tell me.... I need to start charging them for therapy.

So... on that note ( I need to get ready for work... oh lord... give me strength....).... OH !! a photo.... look....

its a little hard to take a photo of the inner side of your left forearm.. but i managed. its bigger than it looks.. and i LOVE it... its not quite finished.... two more additions to go on it, but i'll get to them... ran out of time, and havent worked out one of the designs completely...its still healing, obviously.. so looks a bit wrinkly.. .. but thought i would share anyway!

(edit. wow. that photo uploaded really crap. eh. sorry.)

Weirdness

2008-03-01T13:58:00.003-05:00

If there's one thing I know about myself is that I have this ability to store information, my own personal information, and then, just one day think, fuck it... let it out. What... you didn't notice? Anyway... yeah.. I lack censorship sometimes too. Just because I'm an open person, I kind of assume everyone else in God's Land must be ok with hearing detail after detail and that quite possibly. they relish it. Shock, horror, when someone actually gives me a lecture, and instead of just nodding and doing the usual ...what I interpret as "im just listening for you, so you can vent, but i really dont care"...someone actually sits me down and gives me a fucking lecture and breaks me apart and makes me cry in public.

Or when the story is a fun story and the details are over the top, and all I can say is, "dude, you could have just made a movie about what went on"... and it's true. And all I can say is, for real... I don't know how this stuff can happen in my life, and I know for certain it's not happening in other peoples' lives because ... well... I don't know how it could. Because there would be more messed up people in the world than there are already.

But the weirdness happens when other people lay their stuff on me. When they start telling me their stories; or they start talking. Just start talking; and then they tell me they can relate to me, and I seriously want to smack them in the head and say there's no way you can. When they are crying over losing a peanut, and I've lost the earth. If that even makes sense.

All I know is this. The more I disclose about how 'not quite averagely normal' I might be... the more I realise I'm probably functioning and doing a far better job than half these people walking around crying over fucking useless shit. I don't want to trivialize... everyone has their pain.. but come on already.

And as for the fun stories? This gets me through. There's a line from a song, something like "everything is temporary if you give it enough time".... I think that's where I'm at.. The last month was walking, living, breathing fucking hell. But laughing; seeing the crazy, and I am seriously using that term in the correct usage, crazy things I see, and spending time with new friends, talking about stuff and nonsense.... talking too much...is getting me through.

Listening, on the other hand. Is therapeutic. I think I want to give my drugs to other people. They clearly need them more than me !!!!

(I SO desperately want to share stories.. I just can't..it's too much like trying to explain a dream... "and then I was in Starbucks, and then all of a sudden a giant purple horse came from...and D was there, but it wasn't really D it was more like, S and said, but they thought she said..."... well.. not like that.. but you know what I mean...

Fucking randomly hilarious though.

And far better than any therapy I've had.

The woods are still around me.. but it's clearing. Life is still hard. Challenging. I still cry silent, shattered tears, listening to music (my other saviour)... but I'm getting through.

And I got my tattoo :D

Musings

2008-02-26T09:47:00.002-05:00

So, you ever wonder if you're really living your life? I mean.. not just in the hippy, "dudeee, living it man"...but living it the way you want to live your life. Is this really what you want? When you wake in the morning... and you stare at yourself in the mirror... are you ok with what you see? Again, we're not talking on a physical nature here.

When we enter into a relationship, we change and mould ourselves into someone, the other person.. most often the more dominant person keeps control of their own self, but the quieter person, suddenly finds themselves taking art lessons on a Saturday afternoon, while they stare outside the window, longing to be walking along the beach. Or better yet, falling out of an aeroplane with a brightly coloured pack strapped to their upper body.

There's a certain amount of adapting that is healthy; necessary; and very much needed in a relationship. It's something that all couple's need to do; to coexist. To feel they belong together; to feel safe and secure. The problems start to happen when one person just feels lost. When their personality is squashed; voided out; made to feel inferior; inadequate; and useless.

When the pieces just don't fit anymore.

And then, really.. is there any use in trying? It's not your life. It's not you. There's nothing you can say or do.. you can't change.. because if you change, who can you change to? Who you were wasn't good enough to start with...and who you are now, isn't who you really were in the first place... so.... What Can You Do ??

The thing is... I just sat here for 10 minutes thinking about it. And to be honest, I have no idea. I just don't know. Take a stand? Leap of faith...and just declare to the world that you won't be anything other than the wonderful, talented, fun, beautiful person that you know you are, and you're sorry, but if that isn't the same idea as what anyone else has, then it's really sad, but we must part. OR does that leap of faith just mean take a step backwards, fall behind soldier, take a look around you, realise that art classes might just be calming after all, and who knows, you might find a hidden joy. Maybe someone else really does know you better than you know yourself. Maybe it is for your own good. And who knows, it's all for the long term greater good of someone elses feelings anyway, and thats always noble and humbling. Right?

Who is living their own life anyway?

I know I'm certainly not. I don't think I ever have. I wonder if that's why it's so disjointed.

Crash and Burn

2008-02-20T14:56:00.003-05:00

So I've been down for over a week.. I think I tried to go to work, but that had me then staying at home for the last 5 days, sleeping for 14 hours a day, and filling the rest of the 'awake' time up with Jude Law movies and Country Music. I moved on today.. took a little break from the tv.. sort of...and have been listening to some Fiona Apple and Natalie Merchant ( ipod needed an update in between coughs....) The medication I am on has me whacked out, and I basically am the shell of my former self...its bizarre.. No kidding.. I dream in fragments, but I don't know if I am asleep; or where I am; whether that means " am I on the sofa?" " am I in Perth?" " did I go to work today, or was that last week" " are my kids with me still?" it's awful....

Anyway, I listened to this song just now, and it was one of those songs that made me think, "crap. I should have written that. and because i didnt...crap...someone else has felt the same way i have felt..."

SO yes, it goes into the Hall of Stolen Thoughts..... while I get better.

Fiona Apple - Limp

You wanna make me sick, you wanna lick my wounds, don't you, baby?
You want the badge of honor when you save my hide
But your the one, and the way, of the day of the doom, baby
If you need my shame to reclaim your pride...

When I think of it, My fingers turn to fists!
I never did anything to you man!
No matter what I try, You beat me with your bitter lies
So call me crazy, hold me down, Make me cry, get off now, baby
It won't be long 'till you'll be lying limp in your own hands!

You feed the beast I have within me
You wave the red flag, baby you make it run run run
Standing on the sidelines, waving and grinning
You fondle my trigger, then you blame my gun

And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists!
I never did anything to you man!
But no matter what I try, you'll beat me with your bitter lies
So call me crazy, hold me down, make me cry, get off now, baby
It won't be long till you'll be lying limp in your own hands!

And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
I never did anything to you man!
But no matter what I try, you'll beat me with your bitter lies
So call me crazy, hold me down, make me cry, get off now, baby
It won't be long till you'll be lying limp in your own hands!

I've given up caring exactly who reads this now. It used to be an issue for me. I used to care who knew how I thought; or what I thought. Now I think it's important for my own health that I let it out....No wonder I got sick...trying to hold all this hurt in. Anyone who isn't 'with' me, can get fucked. Basically. That's where I will get my strength from. Oh, that and from my new tattoo.. as soon as I can stop coughing !!!

God I wish I could stop coughing ! I hear winter might be over sometime this year...maybe then???

Points

2008-02-13T15:18:00.002-05:00

No kidding.. I thought I could wait a bit and have something deep and profound to write; after a week or three of adjustment and funk... but nooooooo... lets just do some points...

** I have revised my stance on loving winter. Remember I said I loved the snow, and all its white goodness? Well it sucks. It is just this passive aggressive nastiness, all bundled up in pure evil. It looks pretty, from the comfort of your 'almost legally warm' home. But you go out in that mess, and its all over. Not only does your car need decent traction; so do your shoes. Snowball fights are fun; if you're 5. And not if you're....

** Dying from what appears to be a cough from the depths of hell. I would just like someone; anyone to punch me in the ribs so I could breathe with a bit of room. My intercostals are so painful I get anxious at the next bout of coughing fits that I start to cry... which is what I did in the Dr's office yesterday... yep.. cried like a big stupid baby, as she made me go on the nebuliser, while I'm telling her I know my lungs are a mess; just make me stop coughing so I can sleep. Make me sleep... please make me sleep... or punch me in the ribs ... the latter of which got a raised eyebrow and a tsk..Sending me off with a selection of various medicines that might rival a small pharmaceutical company.

** Did I mention that my eyes hurt from coughing? I dont know. I just dont know.

** Miss A just started singing a new 'song'... she said she's been learning it in school, and was quite perplexed that I didn't actually know the words to it. The name of such 'song' ? It starts out, " I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America" ..... Now theres something I really wasn't expecting to hear from her so soon. I don't know why. I guess it's normal and natural, and all those things, but shes my little Vegemite eating, kangaroo loving, beach going girl. I bet she couldn't even pledge to keep her room clean for a week... you know? It just seems so robotic and forced... sigh... very grown up....

** (i just had another coughing fit, and it hurt. let me tell you. it hurts...bad.)

** I was going to get another tattoo this week... how crap is it that I cant have it because my body wont stay still(see above mentioned coughing fits) long enough to have it done? blah ! next week....there's always next week...i might even show a photo.. then again, i say that all the time, and I never do. You'll have to go searching elsewhere to see pics !

Ok, I had more points. Theres a whole lot more going on, you have no idea, but i think this dying from the evil that is winter has put everything else on hold...

Is there anything positive to report? Absolutely... just recently I've become a bit more 'like me'...which has been great. Coffee with a friend; talking about random stuff; doing things for myself; taking time out etc... its been good. Aside from being sick.. these are all still things that have made things good coming back from aus...

wisdom from youth

2008-02-09T15:26:00.000-05:00

last night one of the babies at work ( trust me, i work with babies ) said to me ;

" its not about waiting for the storm to pass; its learning to dance in the rain"

i wanted to cry. not just because she is right; but because she is a baby, and to hear it come from her, meant so much more.

life is taking its dips and turns, and i have no idea if this ship is sinking in the storm...i suspect even if it doesn't the monumental damage that is inflicted might never be erased...actually, that's half of the problem already.. but anyways....

i'm trying to dance. or at least listen to a bar or two of music to keep me going.

im just wishing life was more like a summer evening; cool gentle breeze with a game of scrabble and a glass of white wine; than a raging, rampant storm, tossing and turning over the seas of emotion.

because i am holding on. but slowly, slowly losing grip.

Breaking

2008-02-05T09:49:00.000-05:00

So I'm back. I think I mentioned that. I can't remember. Anyway.. I'm back to stealing other peoples words... lyrics... I've been listening to a CD I put together, of songs I would listen to with the kids, in Aus.. and today.. just today.. there are three songs, that are tearing me apart.. I don't know why.

But I can't talk. And yet, as always, I needed to say something.

Better Than - John Butler Trio

Nobody Sees - Powderfinger

Watch Over Me - Bernard Fanning

These songs, even though I can no longer cry for certain things... make me sob. Make me cry my empty heart out;

I am broken. And I am not sure I will ever, ever be the same again. And no, to those people who try to be nice and say I will be 'ok' in time.... I wont.

You try it. I'm tired of being strong.

Bondage

2008-01-25T12:29:00.000-05:00

No, Shan...not of that kind....

These last few weeks have seen intense bondage between my kids and I. Not just Monkey Boy and I - kind of expected ... the little poser when it comes to the camera... and the little ladies man when it comes to Mama's friends ( ooh-ooh ) ... but more to the point, the Butterfly Princess has become something of a bonding spirit that I never quite anticipated.. Funny; enthusiastic and very, very willing to give a fairy hand when needed. Bandit; Jeanie and that other Neurotic one will never be the same....... ;)

Seriously, I've always have such a close connection with my son..its just how its been, mmmkay?? So it took me as the most blessed surprise to spend a big portion of this holiday focusing on the bond my daughter and I had been creating. Fun; seriousness; intensity; realism; magic; and trust. The latter being the most significant. We forged a bond that only a mother and daughter could only solidify, that was made with understanding; loyalty; love; respect and maturity.

I thought of all these cool things we did, and said, and achieved, and all that awesome stuff.

In the end, it didnt mean anything, except.....

{lets go to Midland - turn at the round about}
{dont make friends with salad}
{I'm socially excited}
the beach
photos - all 400 of then

no more family guy

(cat meow/hiss)

oh my god i broke a nail

there was something else that made me laugh so hard i nearly had to stop driving. i have to get confirmation on that one.

so many more, but im exhausted........

write more... when im back in the dark, cold depths of ny.......

whats that skip??

2008-01-21T08:15:00.000-05:00

oh my lord.. what a trip! i cant even write what an awesome time ive had.. im having...

the kids.. the family.. the unity....the way i slip back into things here like a year is a week; like a catch up with a friend from afar is just a blink.... like how the ones i love open their arms, and just let me fall in graciously... breaking my tongue along the way *(long story)* ...........*explain later*.... im here... still....... and i vowed i wouldnt write til i was gone from the luscious, crisp, clean shores that are my home. but im breaking the vow. just to say im having the best time ever. just to say my kids are awesome; that we are building on the very best relationship we can; healthy and happy; dedicated; real; and strong. im doing great, and actually havent felt so fantastic in forever. not because im on some tropical island paradise avoiding real life, but because ive faced whats real and true, and know how i truly feel deep down. and im really, very much ok. and im loving my time here.

points to consider...........and remember for future discussion......which wont make sense now.. not in the slightest.......but i swear im not losing my mind....honest.............

**geisha style nightclub lines that go skewif.. need review.

**misha barton sucks. clearly.

**ugly rooms

** how ya garn luv?

** that hat looks nice on ya, darl...(cousins are good for something)

** skip takes on the camera

**fuck. skip wins.

** need to find waltzing matilda for my new ring tong. i kid you not.

**good friends are really, really hard to find. and even harder to get rid of. (mwah, darling)

i just hope that jogs the memory... god i hope it does. i dont want to forget a thing. im sure i wont.

til im home, in the snow.. and not sitting in my bikini.........

Bubbly

2008-01-06T21:40:00.000-05:00

There is a song, by a cute, (I'm assuming) Californian singer, about the feeling of something being bubbly, cutesy.. of it starting in her toes.. and it makes her crinkle her nose... I know, I know.. not the kind of song I'd usually listen to (shut up.. it's not.. but it does get stuck in your head) ... Well... anyway... there's a point to this... I swear....

I just had one of those feelings...

I walked outside.. barefoot..took a deep breath in... stared at the trees; the grass; the vast, strong blue sky. I smelled the crisp, yet warm, clean air..with a hint of eucalyptus, coming from the huge, towering trees overhanging the luscious green grass, that seems so out of place in an area so ravaged by heat. The sun already making my (very wintry white) skin prickle with its warm heat, even though it was not yet noon. The sounds of silence.. no cars, or sirens, or horns blasting. Just sounds that my ears are used to; but had forgetten... til I remembered. (miss you, D)

I am home.

I never knew home was this. I never knew these things felt like this. I knew, but I didn't. It made me bubble, and for that second.. that minute.. this last hour.. I am glowing in it.

To my baby girl, who I love and miss back in my other home.. watching the Wizard of Oz for the millionth time- Dorothy is right - There IS no place like home. And absolutely noone, aside from those who live in another country who is not their 'own' will ever, ever undertand it. I swear.

I'm off to find some crumpets. And my friends.

As that ball drops....

2007-12-31T23:18:00.000-05:00

Well ! What a year.... or so they say.... who are 'they' anyways?

So, tonight, my first New Year in the New Years Eve Capital ... husband, Miss A and I went into the City... ugh! What a nightmare...streets closed off around Times Square... New York's Finest doing their best - taking photos with the crowd... and basically...way too many dumb ass people for a 5 year old to be surrounded by. So, not that our aim was to be near a ball dropping, (we actually were wanting to be around Rockefeller Center)... we headed back to Union Square.. had some awesome food, and came home to the sanctity of our wonderful apartment, to cosy up to see what one million idiots have crammed the streets to see.... ugh !

(interject with a brief moment of not being able to breathe momentarily due to some weird allergic reaction to something I ate ... lasted about 15 minutes and scared the fuck out of all of us... with Miss A declaring I just needed some water, some medicine and a bucket to throw up in... as we drove down the street..... but I over came it.. and still can't work out what it was... blah....)

So, anyway.... 2007 - let's go !

January - Family fun time.... family closeness... family bonding... family dissolution... breakdown.. challenges... ending.

February - moving to the other side of the world. Friendships changed, Family reunions, New tastes and sounds. New seasons and accents.

March - more flights, and paperwork. Learning that having to deal with waiting is something I really should be patient with. Growing up isn't a one-step process. New apartment. Our own home. Making it ours is still ongoing... fighting the beige gene is hard work !

April - The most beautiful, wonderful wedding any couple could wish for. Love, fun, creative memories.. I will never forget the looks of Zion, and I don't mean the rocks. I am forever grateful of the one amazing 'wedding gift' I received out of that wedding... and I'm not returning her ;-)

May - I think May was a quiet month. I don't recall anything about May. I think we were just waiting for Summer. I am almost certain that is all we were waiting for. All I know is along with the new medications they pumped into me, my weight went out of control; I was constantly thirsty; I wanted to kill someone for an ounce of water at any given time and there was a whole lot of medication crapola going on...

June - Surgery month. Finally the month I get my shoulder sorted out. As if that wasn't long enough of a wait. But it was worth it, and I had great recovery company - D had her usual summer surgery, so we were a whole bunch of fun at the beach. Why were we waiting for summer? June also saw the 'birth' of our first new car. A bright, white, shiny new car. Oh my.

July - I think the margaritas helped with the recovery.

August - Kids go to school soon. I think this helped even more with the recovery. We walked a lot. We complained a lot too. I cooked a great deal, in my new kitchen, with my new kitchen equipment... which is why we had to walk... pounds...bikini...food....you know....margaritas... but apparently in summer there is some sort of equation where this doesnt seem to matter. I think the margaritas balance it out.

September - ouch. this somehow kind of went crashing down. this was, all the fun stuff aside, a couple of months in the making. a trip the the ER and I have a new scar to add to the mix. not so fun. it does, however, remind me to add to my list for new years resolutions " keep meds stable"... .... ... you.have.know.fucking.idea. before i was diagnosed, i was just up and down, and whatever i did was just called on as 'me'... now, its me, but fucked. or off the rails. now im on meds, i have a means to keep it under control. or so it seems. but it apparently seems even harder, and noone, other than those who actually take the shits, can understand. anyway.... i digress... september... sucked... and then.... it didn't... my baby started school... and her smile took away any scar that will ever leave behind.

October - this was a transition period... some quiet time.. time to reflect... some time to be me. Some time to have to myself, but then some time to get out and have some fun. I think towards the end of the month I went out and really had some good time.... because I am still carrying the injuries - I think I fractured my ankle, coming home drunk one night. yes. Its a sad world I live in. But it was a fun night, and I needed it :)

November - Birthdays. Birthdays. 6 stitches in the head. Birthdays. Ok.. more med changes. A few stubborn moments. A virus that lasted what seemed longer than a Led Zeppelin song, and a whole bunch of fun, made for some wonderful moments. Another scar? Yea.. apparently it's cute.. I'll run with that one for now.

December - well... as I type this, it's no longer December, but that was a month of what seemed running around, cooking, taking car of sick husbands, kids, self, having guests stay, cooking, hanging out, doing holiday things, and just playing. December was nice. It always is.

My resolutions?

Dedicate myself more. Be stronger. Stay a little focused more.. I would like to say lay back on the sarcasm .... but.... that resolution will last longer than it would take for me to turn this computer off.

Let's hope 2008 sees less trips to the ER. Period.

Happiness to you .

just one more day...

2007-12-31T00:04:00.000-05:00

...til the end of the year...

and then i can sum up exactly what's happened.

but not just yet.

for now, i just thought i would drop by and say how nice it is to have that feeling of anticipation; wonder; trepidation; anxiety; fun and love fall into my field of dream... in just a short while i will be with my babes... there's nothing like it. in a short while i will be hanging with my friends... who can wait??

this year has been mammoth. more than that, it has been intense. it's kept me in stitches... hah. yes.. pun directly intended.....

tomorrow lets summarise.

today lets just remember.

life is ok. and this year is almost over.

in many ways, thankfully !!!

** oh... note ** date on this says its already the 31st.. well.. to me it isnt.. its late, and i need to get to bed... tomorrow... after some sleep.. i shall write... for now.. its still not the last day of the year. so there. bah !

Merry Merry

2007-12-25T21:12:00.000-05:00

I have this song in my head, "sleigh bells ring... are you listening.."... well.. there's no snow.. so there's no sleighs around... but the song is in my head.. it's been a quiet Christmas.. and very unique. My first in NYC.. along with Miss A's.. and I could write a book on the differences; the challenges, the total contradictions (weather being the number one standout factor) and that isn't even getting in on my feelings. I thought, being here, would bring out all this, of course. But I wasn't completely sure to what degree. These are the reasons, as I have realised, exactly why this is.

* A chance encounter with an older woman from Ireland in a diner late at night one night, discussing how lonely Christmas is the first time away from home is, ended up with me crying..no.. sobbing.. into my really bad coffee... and her welling up, streaking her badly applied makeup... saying, "there, there, go 'ome, go on, go 'ome.... call yer mam... go call her." Which I did. Only to have a shitty phone card not work. So moment was gone, and I vowed never to listen to Irish waitresses with bad eyeliner again. Even if the advice was hearful.

* There is no place like home at Christmas time. Look at the lines at JFK or LAX. Everyone wants to go home. Noone does dinner like mum. Noone falls asleep in the cosy chair with the silly paper hat on like dad, and noone, absolutely noone take the piss out of (very australian saying) the shitty relative quite like me and the brother... It's just how it is.

* There is no Christmas quite like one with wine - red, white, bubbled, then beer, and maybe even a girly cooler for Grandma. Throw in a Christmas cracker with a stupid joke recycled from the year before, and the afore mentioned paper hat for dad, and the table is set. Brussels sprouts are always necessary, and hardly ever eaten. These things are just Christmas requirements. Without them.. it's just not quite the same.

* I noticed here, in NYC, I missed the 'magic'. I dont know if it was just me, but it didnt 'feel' like Christmas. I think, now that I really try and dig into this... that it might be me... Christmas is hot.. summer tops.. parties in the open.. going from place to place.. hot days, warm evenings, laid back attitudes.. it wasn't like that.. I think I need to change on that one for later years... hmn.... Christmas was brisk...closed...rushed...hurried and very personal, if that makes any sense...

* One thing I love, and I will always love, forever - the smell that a real Christmas tree gives. My house has been filled with the scents of pine for a week or so. Its still soft, plump needles give off a gorgeous smell. Its divine, and I will never have anything other than this in my home. Awesome!

Embracing the now is fun, exciting, wonderful and awesome. I know this, and I love it.
Change is difficult. It is a long, slow process, with many backward steps. Sometimes forward steps take us backwards. Sometimes memories and old patterns and thoughts confuse and hurt. But you know ?? All I know is for me... Christmas isn't one of those. Regardless of anything... Christmas was always a time of joy. Of love. Of family. Even in times of struggle, or not, my family pulled together the best Christmas days any kid - or adult - could imagine. These are days someone can draw memory from, and use to start to create new "Christmas times"... even the other side of the world... cold, wintry weather and all.

My Christmases rocked. I'm just hoping I can do the same... for my family.

(my dinner, by the way, wasn't too terribly, let me tell you.....

prawn cocktail
turkey
cooked ham - glazed with cranberry and studded with cloves
cranberry sauce - homemade
slow roasted sweet and regular potatoes
honeyed carrots
brussels sprouts with parsley/butter and walnuts (meant to be chestnuts but dont even start me on that issue...mmkay????)
broccoli with pine nuts

all by myself

look at me go :)

I'm learning.. and I'm doing ok. I just wish it was hot out, I was even looking for a fly! Or someone falling asleep in the chair with a paper hat on their head...

just quickly

2007-12-19T11:02:00.000-05:00

...( i wonder how many of my blog posts are titled that?)....

I'm sitting here, just put a quadruple chocolate loaf cake in the oven, and I thought I'd open up the computer and talk to myself for a minute or two. I was going to make gingerbread men.... Miss A has asked for them.. I think just out of spite from last year... but I can't bring myself to do it. Those things still haunt me! I know... I know.. I will end up doing them... on Christmas eve, I'm sure... but let me tell you... there will be some eggnog alongside... you can count on that.

I'm listening to John Butler Trio.. thoughts and sounds of Australia... home ... filtering through my apartment. I played Powderfinger the other day, only because they were playing in my dreams.. I know.. I need to go home.. the irony is.. I will turn on a radio there and here nothing but U.S. music, and see thousands of bratty, stupid kids trying to morph themselves into versions of what they think the kids over here look and sound like... but anyways... for now, JBT are reminding me of how unique and wonderful Aus is to me.

Am I done with Christmas shopping? Not even close. Did I start? I went to two stores last night. Do I have time? Not a chance. Have I even sourced a source for prawns yet? (I am refusing, absolute point-blank-refusal to call them shrimp).... almost... My Christmas dinner ( the only time of the year lunch may be referred to as dinner is Christmas Day....it's just how it is)... will look exactly how my eyes have seen it almost every year of my life. Even the brussels sprouts. The ham will be cooked though. Only because its cold here, and I want to try and do the red glaze with clove studs. Again with the time factor. Eh.

I made Christmas stockings. Did I tell you about the story about my decorations, and how they aren't here? Oh well... I dont have them yet... So I had to get new stockings.. temporaries.. I glittered our names on them, and drew holly. Miss A thinks they are awesome. It's so easy to be the best in the world to a 5 year old. I want to say I hope she never grows up, so she can keep that amazement and awe.. but if she doesn't grow up, then I'm going to be forever staring at this 3.5' doll house in the middle of my lounge room floor. That has a toilet with flushing sound. I'm not so big on doll houses.

I think the cake might be ready soon. I better go get ready for installment 3 of the 4 chocolate layer system..

Maybe I should start working on my new year resolution.....

Stop talking to myself so much??

Stop baking things I don't even like to eat?

Embrace the love and passion of doll houses?

The Early-But Delayed-Wish List

2007-12-12T13:58:00.001-05:00

I know that doesn't make sense, but hear me out. A week ago I got my christmas present early... after days of frustration; stress; phone calls and agitation. But the Gods must have forgotten they're mad with me, and I am now the proud owner of a return flight to Aus to spend time with Monkey Boy and the Butterfly Princess. (sounds of cheer echo around the keyboard.....)

So... after the joy, nervousness, trepidation etc etc sinks in..."I'm leaving for how long?" "What do you mean you really can manage alone?" ...... soon comes the thoughts of "oh.my.god!"

I seriously cannot wait for certain things. And because I know now when I am leaving, I think my mind is starting to trick me..because I am anticipating it more and more....more so than I know I usually would. Bitch! Which is where my 'delayed wish list' comes into play. My usual Christmas wish list is being replaced by " things I cannot wait for back in aus"....

Ready?

(what? you thought I was going to let you off with just ranting about it?! Noooo... I need a point of reference for when I am back in the land of goodness... in case i get overwhelmed and forget something!!)

** Brownes Low-fat Yoghurt. Doesn't really matter what flavour. I wasn't a fan of strawberry, but at this stage, I will take anything. It's rich, creamy goodness. Heaven in a 200g tub. Add 7 raw almonds on top and I am in pure snack-on-the-go delight! I've been waiting almost 12 months for decent yoghurt. Trust me. I've planned this reunion intricately.

** Arctic Fire tea @ Leaf - Napolean St, Cottesloe. Failing that, Apple @ Steep - Collie St, Fremantle. Add in a great friend or three, and I don't think an afternoon can get much better.

** Butter. I don't even care if it's Coles' brand. The butter here is disgusting, and I don't even use it as a general rule.... but because its so bad.. I'm craving good butter... oh my god... on a crumpet !! with golden syrup dripping through so the plate is soaked with melted buttery syrup goodness.

(i think im hungry....just quietly)

** There are so many more things. Kingston biscuits. And no, that doesn't look or taste anything like a scone. Good apples. Better watermelon. Divine mangoes. I think I need to go eat something before this list gets ridiculous.

(clearly it is not in any order of value or importance)

** I'm looking forward to driving without feeling the fear of death wash over me at every intersection; nor hear the sound of some obnoxious beast leaning on their horn .03nanoseconds after a light has turned green, reminding you to move.... "oh im sorry, sir, were my cat-like reflexes not sharp enough for your fat, lecherous ass?"

** Amberley Chenin Blanc. Crisp and perfect.

(sorry. I was trying to not add any more stuff like that in)

** If Santa is going to be nice to me, again, then I would also love to include on my wish list a date with a scuba tank and a wet suit at some stage... but I know that that really isn't on my list of high priorities..... but hey... sitting here the other side of the world.. nowhere near decent dive water.. decent drinking water even... with the outside temperature about 5C... it's a nice dream.

It goes without any saying that the only reason I am going back to Australia is to spend time with my children, so all of these things are moot and redundant unless somehow the kids are involved ( eating breakfast; drinking tea; etc.....). Of course I can't wait to see my friends. There are 3 that I can name that have high priority status ( limited time there without kids means only a few friends will actually get high quality visit time...how corny does that sound.. but you know what i mean...)... but along with monkey boy; butterfly princess; my friends; the food (mmm..the food), I am looking forward to meeting my new nephew and cousin; the clean air; the uncomplicated, gentle place I'll be in - physically and emotionally...

But damn..... I can't wait for that warm evening; a mango and half a glass of Chenin in my hand, while the kids laugh and giggle at something to do with friends and salad.

If You Just Smile

2007-12-06T07:49:00.000-05:00

You know that old Nat King Cole song (ok, it can't exactly be a new release now, can it?)
"Smile" .... Smile... though your heart is aching... Smile... even though its breaking....

Well.. my heart isn't breaking, or aching.. but I've had this stupid virus, or whatever, since the 16th century it seems, and even though I hate every person with the letters Dr. infront of their name; and I wish I could eat more than half a meal more than once every two days (if you can follow that, mensa is calling you); and while I truly, truly would like to inflict evil pain on my dentist, for no other reason than the fact he caused me unnecessary pain on the same side of my head as my stitches, oh - of which could not come out properly and I had to see a dermatologist (another shitty Dr who I hated) to extract the remaining one and a half.. yes half.. stitches.. still stuck in my face, after the other idiot Dr couldn't get them out because she was.. well.. an idiot....

It's been a great few weeks.

But, old Nat has been singin' to me, reminding me that even through all this - there are so many things to smile about.. to look forward to.. to think about, and to hopefully.. get a few more smiles from. So, I thought I would do a little list of things in the last twenty four hours that have made me smile. I'm sure this isn't comprehensive and complete. I'm sure I'm not this much of a sourpuss. Hmnn. Well.. Anyway... here's my list.

Light Up Your Face With Gladness

Seeing Miss A (successfully) tie her shoe laces. The concentration. The determination. Bunny ears. Cross over, underneath, pull, done. Now double knot. "mama, what does double mean?" ..... "it means two".... "ok. I did two knots. a double knot". Pure delight.
Miss A telling me the best thing about being a 5 year old is that she is now old enough to wipe her own butt. I.kid.you.not. I had told her that in the book I received when she was born, it said that 5 year olds were to wipe unassisted ( she's a bit lazy like that.. it was getting ridiculous already ). So, from last Saturday, she hasn't asked me to come to the bathroom once. Not once. Damn, I should have thought of this sooner. I know she knows how. She had told me "it's just disgusting. I don't want to do it." But yesterday, she was so proud. How can you not smile at that little streak of independence?
Confirming, dating, knowing, everything, that I will soon see Monkey Boy and Butterfly Princess. And knowing my husband basically sold his soul to get me there. And spent days on the phone. Days I tell you. I almost had to call in a surgical team to remove the LG from his ear. Initially I wasn't even excited. Honestly? I don't care for going back to Australia. But to see them? Oh.My.GOD! I did a little girly squeal in the back of my throat, and a big grin... and ... YAY. It's hard. I'm going to miss my family here. My home. But my babies... now that is something worth smiling about.
I always thought, weather wise, there were two things I enjoyed equally. Warm, not hot, sunny day, slipping into the crisp, clean Indian Ocean, the feel of the sun reflecting off the water onto my face. Nice. Very Nice. The other is walking in the rain. Or running, mood depending. Heavy rain is preferable, but not necessary. I've found something that beats that. Snow. Walking with snow hitting my face, its gentle little flakes collecting on my jacket, or boots.. or eyelashes.. there is something about it... I just smile. I can't help it. I am in such a good mood. Whether I'm walking fast, in a hurry, or slow and with no real purpose...it's just awesome. My best friend walks outside, sees the dusting on the ground and groans. I see it, and beam. I don't know what it is, it just makes me feel so warm. And that sounds retarded, I know. But it does. Yes, I know it soon turns to brown slush, and its slippery and annoying, but even then.. I know how nice and delicate it's been. So leave me alone. I like snow, ok? I like it even more when I walk in snow. And one day I'll get stuck in a snow storm and I might even be so happy I explode!
Ok, so it's Christmas time. I used to think all those tunes, "as we dream, by the fire" ...." walking in a winter wonderland"....."let it snow, let it snow, let it snow"...... were totally cheesy, corny, crass, ridiculous and retarded. They made for good 'in the mood' songs, better than, oh I dont know, Barry Manilow Does The Bahamas, or something like that... but really... they seemed weird. Now I get them. Clearly, you don't get the full effect of a song about drinking warm drinks by a fireplace with snow falling, when youre living in a country beating out 110F heat; ice cold beer at the bbq - which is swarmed with flies. Everywhere you go here, these songs are played. And they rock. It does seem festive. It doesn't seem like people are trying too hard. They are fitting, and they fit. They make me smile, and I don't want to throw something at the store manager for pretending it's the Northern Hemisphere. It really is. It's cosy, and I like it. I love it, and Christmas has a new depth and meaning now. Totally superficial, and I know, in about two weeks there will be a post about how the snow can go bite me, I miss prawns and brussell sprouts... but right now, I love the tunes that were made for Christmas. They make me smile.

I'm going to make a hot tea, in the awesome teacup my best friend bought me for my birthday, and go write in my Christmas cards, while listening to Christmas songs, looking out the window at the fallen snow from last night, before the blue sky and bright sun melts it away.

And I'm going to smile.

I hope you do too.... at least once or twice today.

when hard things collide.

2007-11-26T13:01:00.000-05:00

So friday was my birthday. Whoot to me. I'm no longer 21 with 10 years experience. I'm just 32. Sucky 32. Anyway, the day was very disorganised... noone really knowing what was going on, and me crying at the drop of an eyelash. I'm usually ok with my birthday. This year just blew. Well... sort of.

Husband and very best-new-york-friend took me to lunch ....first time ive been able to eat anything in almost two weeks (note.. remember this for later)....being sick for so long had me feeling like a whiny cry baby anyway... but lunch was great, and i got some wonderful gifts. yay. really... yay!!

so off i went to work ( dont get excited. i stand in an irish pub and answer the phone. at the end of the night they throw me a nickel or two and pretend its payment. its a means of me getting a life, not a bank account) .... i sms'ed the husband to come and join me for a drink (already do you see how ridiculous this is? ive been sick, unable to drink water.. and i figure its my birthday, ive had lunch, and half a salad for dinner.. yes...half... i can have a glass of something to celebrate my birthday).... husband decides he wants no part in it. clearly, he has brains.

2 am comes and i find my lost phone..yikes... 17 missed calls.. best be going home. now... i didnt get drunk. i didnt put a lampshade on my head, and i didnt dance on the bar. but... well....

husband finds me walking home (not such a bad thing usually.. except it was late, and he hadnt heard from me in hours)...

we go home... i decide i really, really need to get to the bathroom very quickly... so quickly infact, that even that corner of the wall isnt going to stop me....

oh.my.lord.

so.... needless to say... i spent what was left of my birthday, looking at my husband, with a puffed up eyesocket, fluorescent lighting blinding me until 5am, and a nice, soothing doctor giving me 6 stitches on my right brow bone.

kids, always remember.

virus+no eating+weightloss+medication+dehydration+alcohol=

retardedness. total retardedness.

i did, however, mention to my husband that there must be something clearly wrong with him.... isn't it "chicks dig scars" ?? we got things the wrong way around here. (there's photos coming.. on flickr.. i know.. im sick like that!)

(oh, and i know he doesn't read this, but i wanted to point out... that my husband also said, almost straight away - your brother is going to be so proud of that!)

happy birthday to me. another year older... just, uh, not so much wiser...

can anyway say ....... S.T.U.P.I.D ???

Very Unplesant

2007-11-16T10:07:00.000-05:00

Not that anyone has missed me, but the last couple of days I've been curled into the foetal position, praying to whomever will listen, to make it stop.

Nausea. Vomiting. Shaking. Confusion.

All in the name of random virus/illness/who.the.hell.knows.

Water was, and still is, tasting like blood. Trust me on this one. Ice cubes, like fish. No, there is no fish in the freezer to taint them. It's just weird. I can't even look at food without vomiting.

My wonderful friend came and helped me through a few hours of yesterday; making sure I didn't dehydrate too much (our biggest concern when it comes to me getting sick and the medications I take...big, big issue) ; and when husband came home, he did a great job of same.

Listening to me vomit; smelling my smelly cat-ness. That's love, right there.

I'm sitting here, thinking I was feeling a bit better. I flicked on the tv, to Rachel Ray, and I just can't do it. Even hearing about food is making me feel like visiting my ol' friend in the bathroom.

Ugh.

Excuse me.

Light ?

2007-11-12T20:32:00.000-05:00

There's a time for a heavy here, and there's a time for light.

Clearly, I'm still working out the difference.

I walk down the street....sweat shirt on, ipod in ears, jeans, and sneakers. Temperature? Oh, I don't know... 2c.

Another time... Lavender... yes... lavender jacket... puffy sleeves...jeans..sweater...ipod still... sweating my ass off... temperature....? Did I land on the sun somewhere between 5th ave and 87th st?

I need to work this shit out. Really.

So, today, husband and I went to buy me a jacket. A decent, all terrain, "get kid from school. Go to the store. Run to friends house. Get a glass of wine at local bar" kind of jacket. First of all, we stop off to get bacon. I mean, brunch. I said brunch. Clearly.

All the places we wanted to go were closed... but I was thirsty, so we stop at a little 'bodega' - spanish for ... I dont know... grocery store..... that's not official.. work with me here. So we're in a bodega, and I get this iced tea. Out of the corner of my eye I see these little packets of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. Totally disgusting, if you're counting nutritional value, or calories, or trying to find anything real. But tasty? Oh.My.God. You can't usually find them here. But there they were. Reaching out to me, in all their MSG v's Asthma goodness. I took 4 packets. It was all they had. While I was waiting to pay ($3.00 in total, including the 32oz can of iced tea with pomegranate and ginseng. Yes, it was all goodness I was going for today) I also got a show. No, there wasn't a tv installed, there was a live enactment of the Jerry Springer show, right before me.

Enter woman with mullet, and non descript (fat) friend, to counter - where they discussed in very explicit detail about mullet-head's son beating her up; but being missing in action now. And did the store clerk know where he was? Because she did really love him, even though he beat her "like a pakastani woman" (i kid you not, that was her quote), while she proceeded to show the clerk her back, where there were apparent bruises. Sadly, I didn't get to witness, my eyes bore the image of her sagging white, stretchmarked stomach over her very tight jeans, instead. Mullet-head says to the store clerk, in her wisdom, about her son beating her up, and how she still loves him, and how she really isn't mad, "he isn't even the one that does drugs, I do".

What. The. Fuck. ??

I just want to buy my Flamin' Hot Cheetos, and Iced Tea, and go buy a decent jacket. That's all. I don't want to see any more nasty body skin.

Really.

After crazy lady decides she has obviously tortured everyone enough, and her friend, mysteriously has no conceptual idea that it's wrong to half strip in public, especially when you're nasty, or share harrowing stories of son's beating up mothers... they part their ways, begging the store clerk to let the (obviously running away for dear life) son know that mother dearest is looking for him.

I pay for my shit, laughing, at - and with - the dude behind the counter, who is laughing as well. He says, "who needs Jerry?"

In the end, I got my Cheetos and iced tea. I made it to the mall to get my regular, black jacket. I even got my light entertainment, and I wonder, at the end of the day, if crazy mullet-head got her son?

God's Plan

2007-11-08T09:06:00.000-05:00

I don't get it. I just don't fucking get it.

Let's just say, a woman tries to commit suicide, along with her baby, and jumps out of window. Baby dies. Woman survives. Now. I'm not one for judging for-or-against suicide. Clearly. But if there were a God... wouldn't you be taking care of the innocent party in all this?

Lets take another situation. Woman who has raised her children, almost always alone. Never smoked. Never drank. Goes to church, for whatever that happens to be worth to anyone. When she does live with someone, its a useless scrap of someone. She gives up everything in her life, to take care of everyone else. Doesn't complain, until she does. And then it's not excessive, or unjustified. What does "God" do? Cancer. What does woman do? Gives it the look, and keeps on doing what she has to do.

Meanwhile, well lets just say, we all know others who smoke, drink, lead shitty existances of lives, and go on doing so, unscathed until they wind up in pine boxes covered in roses - wrinkled, pruned, and just dead.from.being.old.and.tired.

I just don't fucking get God's plan.

This morning I woke to an email from a friend, titled something along the lines of "sorry to have to tell you this way, but...."

Yeah. That's what I thought too.

A former teammate/football player/friend was killed in a head-on collision in the earlier hours of the morning, back in my home city. This young guy was, without a doubt, one of the nicest on the team. To me, anyway. The opposition obviously didn't think so, because I was continually treating his injuries each game. He was fun. Dedicated. Hard. Funny. Quiet sometimes. And in general, a Nice Guy. This is what I don't get. There are idiots on the road. Trust me, driving around here, I see millions. No exaggeration. Obviously I don't know exactly what happened. But if there's a God, then where the fuck were you? Because this is one person you should have been watching out for. Maybe the memo's got mixed up, but I don't think he was meant to go yet. He had fire, and talent. And just.fucking.life.

I know who will be devastated tonight, and my heart is with them. My brother, especially. I love you, and I know you're hurting. I'm crying for you too. I wish I was there.... when something like this happens, it really does centre you. It makes you realise all those 'cliche' things. "Don't take things too much for granted" ... "Tell that person you haven't told, how much you miss them" ... They are really true. And you should.

But..... right now.... I used to believe everything happens for a reason...

I don't know what the fuck that was about.

Tears are streaming in Brooklyn this morning, for a young neanderthal-that-wasnt-so-neanderthal ..... Crossy, you're still the biggest princess, and I might just need to pass you a tissue.

As for God -

I don't think we're talking anymore.

.......

2007-11-06T13:13:00.000-05:00

I'm doing ok today. And when I saw this, I laughed, right AT myself.

Butterfly Princess

2007-11-05T08:45:00.000-05:00

From where I sit

I look outside, and I see crisp blue sky; sky that makes you realize it is cold outside, without even touching against the glass of the window. Leaves are falling, or almost totally gone from the trees. Inside is freezing cold; the heat is barely on; and as much as I love the cold, it’s really getting pathetic. I’m sitting here, socks on; sweat pants; thermal – with hood pulled over my head, and I just went to find my slippers. It’s not even winter yet. Not even close. And I’ve used up all my complaining – in one weekend!

All these physical surroundings cannot, however, pull my mind from where it is going. It has been headed that way for the last day or so…maybe more.. but this morning, I woke to it. I don’t know if it is a matter of “your belief creates reality” and so, I believe I will be this way, and so… am… Or if this is just.the.way.it.is.

Instead, of the cold, crisp air; the feel of oncoming winter; I’m feeling spring. I’m feeling warmth; and I’m seeing trees with full branches of leaves. I’m feeling light winds pushing from the east. Today is a day I remember so perfectly, as if it is etched within every cell of my body. Never changing. Every mother knows that, I am certain of it. I think, however, I have a heightened sense of it, for various reasons.

Today is the Butterfly Princess’ birthday. And while, since I have missed Monkey Boys’ birthday being in NY as well; and am no stranger to not being physically present for their birthdays occasionally…the Butterfly Princess and I ….well… missing her birthday is just tearing my heart into pieces.

She is 10. My little girl, who has taught me so much, in just a blink of an eye, is ten. TEN. In ten years my life completely changed. Everyone says that after they have a child. But I truly believe, with all my hippy-heart, that her role in our two lives, was to change things for us, to make it better. And she did that. And we are finding our way through, and sometimes it isn’t easy, and sometimes we have no idea what is happening. How can she? She doesn’t know.. she just kind of.. I guess… facilitated it…its hard to explain… but she is awesome, and so strong… so fucking strong… and then there’s me… I cry my fucking heart out every time she blows out another candle and I am not there to see it. I sometimes have to hold onto the wall when I hear a piece of music, because I don’t trust my legs to hold me up. I want to cuddle into her, and watch her dance, or hear her sing, and when I hear that she is doing these things, and I am blind or deaf to them, I break. It takes something from me. I doubt you’d understand, but that’s ok. My beautiful baby girl, who is so tiny, so giggly, so cute, so serious, and so emotional…. Is ten. I’ve missed so much. I wonder if she even realizes? I think I fear that she does.

I wonder if I will feel this way every year, or if one day it will be easier. I wonder if this hollow, empty, half-dead feeling will go away? I wonder if I will ever stop blaming myself for something I didn’t even do?

The cold air is coming back. I need my hood back on. I need a tea to warm me.

Happy Birthday, Butterfly Princess.

The Loose Thread

2007-11-01T11:49:00.001-05:00

I was in a store today, trying on a sweater, which half-way through I realised was a) ridiculously large for me, and b) had a loose thread, which would have unraveled in a heart beat if a child, tree, clumsy me even looked at it. It made me think of something.. yes.. people.. there's always a story.

I was in a S.H.I.T mood anyway, so it didn't help.

Whenever I see a loose thread, I tug at it, thinking blindly that it will go away, and/or I will make it better. I know. It's stupid. My mother would jump up and say, "dont!". She would get some random tool that looked like it could have been used in some war as means of torture, and would have that sweater back to being perfect in a second. Most usually, this was because she had made it in the first place, but anyways. It occurred to me, as I handed the overpriced-anyway sweater back to the sales woman who really didn't want to be there, that sometimes, a quick fix, isn't always the key. Sometimes, unraveling, tugging at that loose end, and really coming undone, is the only way things are going to get rebuilt. Ok, everyone needs a sweater. Noone wants one that is frayed, tattered and has bits hanging out for all to see.

But noone needs to be quickly bandaged up, however good it might seem or feel at the time. And no, I'm not talking about sewing efforts now. You've moved on with me, right? Whether its relationships; neighbours; family; or work. Whether its us ourselves, or whether we are trying to hold it all together and fake our way through a pretend existence....I'm starting to see it's better to unravel; re-knit; recreate and to fucking hell with the old sweater.

I've pulled a loose thread, and I don't think the sweater is going to fit the same when it's remade.

I think I like that more than anything.

Just wanted to say. That's all.

Oh... I promised Halloween goodies, huh? Next time. Gotta run...

Let It Out

2007-10-31T07:45:00.001-05:00

For the past I-dont-know-how-long, I have had so much turning in my mind, that I really haven't been able to express it here. I know... imagine that.. I've been speechless!! Monumental time in history, it seems. I think, and I'm only guessing here, it isn't a proven theory, and certainly not one that has been thought out with guidance... so it could be total crap... but I think, I can't articulate what I want to say, what I'm thinking, because of the very nature, the very essence of the issue.

Control.

Subtle, underlying control.

Yesterday there was an incident, that all things considered, could have been a 2.5 second laugh, and I could have gone on to eating my secret sandwich.... (*that I will not tell you about, so don't ask*) ... but because someone else decided to take the moment to a different mood, a different level, it was spoiled. Ok. Not every day, and every moment can be a scene from the Sound of Music. In all honesty, who the fuck would want it to? But what happened was, it caused me to really think hard about these things that have been floating around inside me for a while. Things that I have been too scared to talk about. To let out. Not just on here, but with the one, and only, non-judgemental man I can count on. Ok, yes, I have to pay him to remain nonjudgmental, but it's a deal we both are ok with.

Bear with me right now, while I go through this cycle.. It sounds a bit nonsensical. But as it pours out of my head, it's how it flows, and just as you can't order grains of rice to flow into a pan, I don't think I can order this.. not once it starts.

You see, the issue is this - it involves a few characters. Judgement. Fear. Hurt. Power. And Control. Some people think power and control come hand in hand. They do not. Some people have some amazing charismatic power, and many, many people are happy to be in their company. Some people have authoritative power, and an infinite amount of control. Sometimes control is visible. Its aggressive, and its in-your-face. The silent control is more damaging, I think. It's harder to fight against. How can you break free of something that you can't even see? For so many years I fought against something, but I didn't know what it was. Was it inside me? Was it a force from someone else? These I still ask myself... but for the most part what I know now is even discussing the fact that you feel judged; berated; controlled or that you feel you have a lack of power in some way or another... even thinking it... is crippling. And so what do you do? You overcompensate. You don't allow anyone, anyone to have control over you; you push, you fight; anything and anyone. If someone judges you; you might be a little more inclined to judge them. Or tear them apart. Depending on the day. And that is tiring. So then you fall back, and you just let them take charge. Let them push you around, not physically, it doesnt have to be physical. But you when they judge, it hurts, and they do it. Because there is so much to judge. Because you are broken. And they know how to keep you broken, because they see how you got there. They can see how you breathe in; they can see how you breathe out, and sometimes, that is enough. Or so it seems. One day, there is a compliment thrown around, and it is genuine. But how are you expected to believe it? Because you know you heard the other judgements, and you know you heard the other looks. Yes, you can hear looks. Ask any child. Every mother has the look.

And then you get scared, even discussing it. Because maybe you will be cut down. Maybe your feelings aren't valid.. because theirs are more important, and the more you think about it, the more you just think 'leave it alone.. youve left it alone for this long... leave it'...

The one thing I know is this - the stronger I become, the more I question, and the more toxicity I see. And no, I'm not casting stones. I see it within myself, and within relationships I held strong once before, and within relationships I hold now. That doesn't mean everything is bad, and everything is doomed. But questioning, opening up, and finally having the nerve to discuss the toxicity is the only, and I mean that with complete certainty, only way to learn how to get rid of it, and be a better person. Not just sweep it under the rug, ready for the next decade. Or the next generation.

I'm becoming less afraid to stand up to that control, that power, that judgment; less afraid to strip the hurt away, and remember for myself who I am. Relying on other people to make that call isn't something I am happy with anymore.

And I think, for now, that is all I have to say.

When it flows, it flows, eh?

oh - it's Halloween today - so, uh.. next post might be a little lighter.. with a tale or two of trick or treating with Supergirl, Optimus Prime and two Witchy Mums !

Perceptions

2007-10-25T10:36:00.000-05:00

Her long, dark hair falls down around her face, as she reaches towards his hand at the bar. Her head tilts to the side; she leans in close, at the same time gently touching her fingers against his hand; his hand nervously picking away at the beer label. His eyes flash her a look of fear; uncertainty, and her eyes scan the room - curious to know who can see, or hear them. She whispers into his ear, "Don't worry. We will take care of her together. We're family. She will be ok."

A man, who is not known, but not a total stranger, at the end of the bar sees this, however, and interprets it as "that is M's best friend, hitting on her husband, while she is on vacation?!? Someone needs to tell her."

Perception.

Motivation.

It's amazing as to how many times through our day to day - or week to week - lives we can say or do things that might be perceived differently by others. Not just a word or a comment, or a look(...but looks can be monumentally disastrous if they are misperceived!....) I'm talking about a series of actions, that combine to form an 'incident'. We might have our own personal, or private 'jokes'... that when viewed, or heard, by others, lose their humour, and sound very weird, or inappropriate. My friend and I have a Big Love 'thing' that we talk about. A lot. My husband, has now found the fun, the humour, and joins in on the 'joke'. And I say 'joke'.. because in some ways, we do share family. Just not that way. But would others see it the same way? In the same context? Would we need to care? Most likely not.

The above story illustrates how (totally fictional, by the way), in a smallish neighbourhood, there is definite room for mis perception; which leads to rumour; mistrust; uncertainty; communication issues etc etc. But then, the real issue is this. Do you adapt your behaviour, so that there is no chance for any thread of any shadow of doubt to be cast? Do you book yourself, or selves ( this isn't limited to whether you are in a relationship or not....who wants stories questioning your own self thrown around the neighbourhood, the school, your work, the church) into therapy, so you can deal comfortably with the outbreak that might ensue? Do you commit to being open, upfront, and totally, brutally honest about all that you can be? Or do you move to a little island, that has a wonderful park in the middle of it, lots of hip and happening things, is inhabited by at least 8million people at any given time, where you can feel safe in knowing you are completely, and totally alone, free from mis perception???

This is where this comes from......

People act. They do things, they are who they are. They sit in the corner of the children's book section of Barnes and Noble and they cry. Forceful tears. Sad, and powerful. There are people, kind older women, who come and ask if those cry-baby-princesses are ok, and if they need help. They probably do. But right there, that cry is all the help they need. The perception is, "that person is on the edge of a breakdown, and is clearly in a very odd place to be expressing it." The reality is, choosing a gift for your daughter is seriously difficult work when you haven't seen her in almost a year; you don't know if you've already bought her Charlottes Web; or where her reading level is at, right now. Ok? No therapy needed.

Perceptions are based on someone else's ideas, ideals, and are influenced by a persons own individual experiences. The man at the bar could see two people cheating, perhaps he has cheated before. Or was cheated on. Or wants to see someone cheat. The woman in the bookstore, perhaps has high emotions herself. Perhaps she could have seen it as, a book was emotionally evocative.

All I know is this - perceptions are like truths. Everyone's version is different. And noone really wants to believe theirs has less validity....

This is a big theme in my life at the moment. I'd like to rid certain perceptions some particular people have, of some particular things, about me......and while I can't make others change their thoughts, I certainly can make my life better by not burying myself into the pitfall of what they perceive me to be.

Definitions

2007-10-21T20:30:00.001-05:00

I had one of those weekends. One that was casually fun; gentle; awesome; inspiring; amazing; family oriented; liver disabling (yikes); and totally insane-in very good ways. All in a blink. And all at once. But one part was very interesting. And it all had to do with bacon.

Let me explain. It's really very easy.

I woke up very early this morning, to pee. Details? Anyway. I went to pee, with the thoughts and remnants of a dream floating in my head... "Ketones. Damn ketones in my body. I need to get these ketones sorted out. I have to get this worked on." Grumbling as i pee'd at 5am, I went back to bed, wondering what the hell ketones were, but was sure I'd heard of them before. Waking up later, at a more 'me' time, I grumbled some more to my husband, saying I was in desperate need of bacon. Crunchy, salty, fatty bacon. Given I'm a vegetarian, and one who doesn't usually eat salt. Or fat.... this was particularly disturbing. But overwhelming. What made it worse was this... I wasn't upset about wanting to eat the dead animal, or the unhealthy fat. Or the sodium. I was torn over the fact of "if I eat it, then what am I? Am I still a vegetarian? If I do it once? Do I still get to call myself a vegetarian?" "What am I??" Wonderful husband justified it nicely, by saying, "it's not what you do just once, it's the actions you take over the course of your life that give you definition." I think, he just saw the chance of having more meat in the house, and ran with it.. but ... I heard what he was saying...

We then decided, after googling 'ketones' and concluding my body was really screaming out for some decent food, since going on this new medication and losing some weight due to the whole, everything tastes like hairy lemons... (which - update - doesn't - everything tastes like a fork covered in vinegar...don't ask... its just a weird acidic/metalic taste) .. we went to a nearby diner and had breakfast.

And what did this vegetarian-on-temporary-leave order? Eggs bennedict, with bacon. Crispy, crunchy, and salty. And I ate husbands bacon. And Miss A's. And I also grumbled that noone had any left to steal when we were done.

And it tasted SO freaking good. I will have more. And soon.

What we do, on random occasion doesn't define us. If it becomes habit, or a trait, or part of our nature or personality, then sure... that defines us. But a little hit of something fun, different, unlike us, or just completely necessary to nourish our body, or our souls.. then you know? I think it makes our true self all the more better. All the more happy, and all the more ready to be who we really are.

Oh, and ketones? By definition, are something.. if your subconscious is waking your ass up out of deep sleep to take notice of.. definitely needs to be seen to. Which is what I will be discussing at my next Dr appointment. Damn medications!!

Maybe this bacon kick will keep the dreams at bay though... ?! I'll see how it goes !

It cant be, its not.. it is...

2007-10-19T09:49:00.000-05:00

You know when you hear some news, and it just rocks your beliefs, so much so that you just can't possibly believe it? It not only doesn't sit right, your subconscious wont even allow it to sit near you... you don't take it on, you can't... and you just feel ... if it were to be true... then maybe the world really IS flat, or maybe Moses really could part the Red Sea or something freaky.

Well, I heard something, a while ago. And I didn't believe it. I chose not to. And then, today, I heard it again. But this time, with more certainty. More reality. And as I took a walk around the park with my gorgeous friend, after just speaking to another beautiful, gorgeous friend back home, I realised, everyone has their own agenda. Their own stuff. Their own cracks, faults, masks. Every one will be ok, I guess, in whatever way they will be... but ... damn I went through some pretty wild emotions in just a blink of an eye. That walk sure was therapeutic today!

Learning something..learning something really is... is kind of liberating in some ways. What is that saying, 'the truth shall set you free' ?? well.. it does, even if it's not your truth!! And when you're told something that is a complete un-true, as my friend was so tortuously told for an agonizing month, and you later find out the reality... it's like you have a new life. That is priceless.

Some people are good at keeping their perfect masks on. Some, like me, have no mask. Stripped bare of them, all my emotions are raw and out there. I can't hide anything, because I'm making sure I'm real, every single day... stripping myself from the crap that I had layered over me as protection for 32 long years. And that's why people lie and hide. To protect. And perfect people... as it seems... really aren't so perfect, it's just their layer. And you know what? When that layer comes off, it actually makes them more real, more wonderful, and more lovable. If only they knew.

But damn. Noone ever saw that coming.

The one great thing about going through so much, is there is so much to relate to. And, as my friend described her untruth-come-truth, I could give her advice, and share with her my ongoing similar situation (note to self, make appt...ugh...). And when I learned the BIG weirdness; well... it threw me... you have no idea...but who am I to judge? There's just love. That's all I have to say.

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.
-- William Shakespeare, “All’s Well That Ends Well”

Just a thought

2007-10-16T06:57:00.000-05:00

NYC is a tough city. It’s a joy and a terror.
It is the scariest place in the world
to take pictures. The pace and the
energy are staggering. It’s too hot in
the summer, too cold in the winter,
crowded, noisy, expensive and dangerous.
And I wouldn’t want to live
anywhere else in the world.

- Jay Maisel, Photographer

I'm trying to fight off a crappy cold. And not take the trippy cold medicine that makes me hallucinate.... I'm saving that for when times get really boring! So I'm tucked up in bed, til my friend comes and drags me out for what she thinks is a refreshing walk around the park, and what I believe might be torture. Meanwhile, I found this quote in a magazine article, and it really does sum up how I feel about NYC... and photography....right now, anyway.

The bad apple

2007-10-10T09:44:00.000-05:00

Remember the adage about one bad apple spoiling the cart? I could never understand it. Sure, the ones immediately touching the nasty, festering apple needed to be tossed out, but surely the apples to the side, or to the top of the cart would be ok? Right?

What I am realising now.. is while they might not have been thrown away... they get displaced, pushed aside, bruised, and sometimes, they fall far from the cart, not even making it to the farmers market. And, worse than that.. that one bad, rotten apple, sitting there, decomposing in it's own stink, still sits there, lets say, at the bottom of the heap.. and to get to it, you have to pull apple after apple off it... infected somehow.. touched by this tainted apple. And when you get to the offending apple, its so broken, you hardly even recognise its an apple ( i think everyone can remember a time where the fridge has produced some random fruit or vegetable that fits that catagory... right??)

I know I've taken this story too far. But I get it now, and I understand it completely.

It's not, obviously, about apples, or pears, or potatoes. I did know that, clearly. People influence other people. And it seems we are influenced more intensely by negative factors. I can see it in my daughter at school. She picks up 'not so good' behaviour. Albeit very benign and funny, but in 10 years time, will it be so cute? Will it be so benign? And if we don't have a good standing to hold her on; good supportive values; our own thoughts and processes intact.. what are we to offer her? This is how families and societies pass on their unhealthy traits. By not working on them, not fixing them, not recognising them, and not accepting them.

Look, I'm the last one to say I have it all together. Uh....ahem....Clearly. But I'm working towards a better version of anything anyone has ever been able to offer me. Including myself. In turn, that will, I hope, allow my daughter, and my son, and my other beautiful daughter, to be better versions of themselves. That is what we do. That is what healthy people do. So there are less bad apples in the cart.

Why am I writing this? Because of a conversation I had with someone today. Someone who was broken. Who was worried. Scared. Hurt. Upset. Did she have a right to be? Yes! Does she have ways to make it better? Not really. Time is really the answer, as cheesy as that sounds. But just discussing it, confiding, talking... made me realise that the apple cart doesn't have to be completely spoiled. That one bad apple can just stay where it is. Instead of taking IT out of the cart, why can't we, instead, take the rest of us/of the apples out of the cart....gently tumble out, with help, and move on, to become something way better. A little bruised. A little tainted. But out of the cart.

The way I see it is, if people don't want to change... don't make them. But don't hang around for the ride. And don't stand back and watch the show. Thats where the adage comes into fruition. So to speak.

And with that, I'm making an apple pie. One thing New York does right this time of year is grow gorgeous apples.

Even if it will taste like lemons to me.

About that comment...

2007-10-10T06:48:00.000-05:00

I have my comments set to 'moderate'...which means I have to approve them before they are displayed. This isn't because I only want airy, flowery, fun comments, or only comments that align themselves with how I think or feel. It's just I don't want some things displayed here. I know.. look at me go.. with boundaries and such...one of them is specific names....especially last names.

Someone left a comment about my last post, and included within it, our last name. I had to 'reject' it because of that, but I wanted to make mention of the comment and say, to whom ever it was, because truly, I have no idea ...!!!... that no... with all that going on in my body, the one thing I can most 100% be totally, without a doubt be certain of, is that not being the cause. No more bambino's for me. Babies for me are not an option at this point in my life, and that is working out just fine for me. But thank you for your... uh... concern??

I just had to make this post, to clarify to that person that why I didn't post their comment, but that I appreciated their thoughts.. or humour.

Cross-current

2007-10-09T09:04:00.000-05:00

So, not only do I have some weird hairy lemon growing in the roof of my mouth, making water taste like acid (but in some cruel twist of irony, I'm needing to drink even more than the ridiculous amount I usually consume); most food tastes like stale vinegar, lemons, or worse. Really, there is worse. I've found, if I coat my mouth with avocado, I can make the disgusting feeling go away. For 10 minutes. I tried the same with peanut butter. The hair 'grew' back after about 2 minutes. My lips and tongue tingle. Yoghurt tastes like rancid sour cream, and sour cream tastes like... well.. worse. I don't usually eat chocolate, but I thought, hey, let's see if that works. One bite of a KitKat... Nope. I could barely chew it.

Want to know whats even more... uh... fun??

I'm craving hot dogs and bacon. Crisp, crunchy bacon. I think it might be the only food that will make this go away. I'm scared that it wont.... I'm even more afraid of why I'm even thinking by-products of pig, and the belly of the same 'magical' animal might be my remedy to ridding me of the Hairy Lemon... but ... if this doesn't stop... I might have to rethink my Vegetarian Status.. just for my own ... well... sanity??

Oh, and just to top it all off. Is that word right there.

Off.

My sense of smell is going out.of.fucking.control.

I gag on the street if I smell cigarette smoke. If my downstairs neighbours light up, and it comes through the radiator.. I have to light some incense ( no that, somehow, doesn't bother me.. go figure ). The smell of tuna makes me want to puke; and the blanket on our bed, of which, regardless, I have found out is well overdue for laundering - has me sleeping with a tissue dotted with lavender oil, just so I don't throw up.

All I can say to this, along with the extra hot, tingling hands, the tingling in my feet (which I was told was normal for this new drug .. yay.. a normal response), the burning feeling in my lips.......

What.

The.

Fuck.

moods? stable. thoughts? good. body? oh.my.god.

Oh, and as a side/bottom note: I have to write this down.. uh.. for Uncle Charlie... just so I remember... I woke up this morning, with the lyrics/song "We'll always be together, together in electric dreamssssss" in my head.

Yeah. That's what I thought too.

The End?

2007-10-04T09:19:00.000-05:00

This is the end... my only friend, the end....

what do you think??

I was watching tv the other night.. I don't know.. It was Grey's Anatomy I think... and I remember someone saying something...

"Can you get to your future, if your past is still present?"

Which made me think of this blog.

Maybe it's time I laid it to rest?

I'm not going to pull the cord just yet... I'll think about it... there's some seriously decent moments and memories combined here. There's also some really shitty ones. But it's all real, and it's all here.

I gotta think some more.

I'm just letting you know... kind of in advance.. incase you don't like surprises.

Wolves v's Hairy Lemons.

2007-10-02T22:19:00.000-05:00

There are two things that I need to just get out. Right here, right now.

Imagine you drop a wedge of lemon on the floor of your kitchen. One that hasn't been swept in, oh, lets say, about two months. You desperately want that lemon, and so you pick it up, and put it deep into your mouth.. so much so that it gets lodged into the roof of your mouth. And there it stays. Tainting all you eat, drink,. consume, feel, breathe, talk, and think about. You put off your dental appointment, literally, because you wonder if you have hair growing from your mouth ... palate... and wonder if there is a razor to fix that... and then you have this taste of lemon in your mouth.. and the only thing that makes it better is to drink "Simply Lemonade"... not 7-Up, or Sprite, but real Lemonade.

All I know is, this Hairy Fucking Lemon in the roof of my mouth was NOT on the 'side effects' list of the drugs list I just started taking, but I know it's the culprit.

But if I can't beat 'em.... All I can do is join 'em....right???

The other thing I wanted to mention is a quote, and I'm sorry I'm not sure where it is from.. but my dear, wonderful, soulful, powerful friend reminds me from time to time, and always, always when it is more than needed....

I feel as if two wolves are fighting in my heart. One wolf is vengeful, angry, violent and the other is loving, compassionate, and strong.

Which wolf will win the fight in my heart?

The one I feed.

Sometimes I feel like starving both of the fuckers... hehe.. but right now, I'm giving a piece of carrot to each, just to keep them at bay. Just until I know what the hell to do with them.

And so I go... to watch Sex and the City. I forgot how much I love this show. I forgot, because I never put it on, thinking my husband wouldnt like it. He's in bed now.. so I have free reign over the remote control.... I'm realising I am more like Samantha than I really think is appropriate. But anyways.

Life is ok. I'm meeting with a friend in the city this week/end, and I am SO excited and happy and totally nervous and totally cannot wait, its going to be wild and fun! Yay for good times. Finally. And about time !!!!!

OMG, I love this song...

2007-09-27T11:33:00.000-05:00

Ok, when we were kids, 'OMG" wasn't anything but someone's initials....but, remember that feeling, when you were younger, a song came on the radio ( it was always the radio, because... well.. what else was there... really??) and you would grab your BFF's (that's Best Friend Forever's to those who don't hang around 10-12 year old's anymore) hand and scream, "OH MY GOD! I love THIS SONG!" And you would create a memory, right there and then, and you didn't know it, but in 5 years time, you would hear that same song, and you would remember that freckle-faced, red headed girl and you would smile.... and then....15 years after that you would hear the same song, and while the memory was a little faded, the smile was even bigger. And then it occurs to you, as you are driving down the right/wrong side of the road, in a country the other side of the world to where 99.7% of all of your memories have been formed, created, held, shared and disclosed, that music quite literally, can transport you back to another time and another place. It can remind you of a person, a place, a year, a second, a look, a smell, a smile, a heartache, a fight, a kiss, a bad, bad drink, or a great, great decision. And all you have to do is listen, and smile. Oh, and indicate and stop at red lights.

So it occurred to me, today, that I would write down some songs that really 'hit' the transport button. The ones that as soon as you hear that first chorus... the first strum of the acoustic guitar, or the first whisper of a voice, you are there. Back to that moment. With a big, cheesy grin on your face. Or a tear streaming down your face.

And like everything, I thought I'd share that list here. Fuck it. I'm an open kinda gal. In case you didn't know that already. These are random order, as I sit here and think. Other songs pop up, with nice memories.. but not transporter quality.... oh, and the first one is the first one, only because it was played the other day, and is what got me initially thinking about all this.

Love Bites - Def Leppard (I said no. I always wonder what would have happened if I said yes. I wasnt 'excellent' at skating. Especially at snowball. But I was ok. )

Lightning Crashes - Live (my son being born. sitting in hospital wondering why i couldnt leave and go home with him, after all, it had been 2 hours already !)

Push - Matchbox 20 ( my daughter being born, and me listening to the radio wondering why I just wanted to sleep all the time, and... so much more.....)

Goodbye My Lover - James Blunt ( this makes me smile, feel warm, nurtured, want to nurture, and at the same time, will bring me to a grinding stop, while i sob uncontrollably for a loss I cannot explain)

Mickey - Toni Basil (if you remember this song, you are older than me. I thought this song was written for me, about me, and to me. I was 6 or 7. It reminds me of my dad. And whenever I hear it, I will always, always think of him)

Puff the Magic Dragon - P, P & M ( if you remember this song, you are older than my parents. When I hear this, I remember my mother singing it, while my cousin laughed. I still believe, even at a young age, I knew there was something intrinsically wrong with the lyrics to this song! But it makes me smile, and yes, I still know all the stupid words. They never leave your head)

The Captain - Kasey Chambers ( Everyone has a captain in their lives somewhere. This song brings a smile, a laugh and a reminder of simple, independent times)

Angel - Sarah McLachlan ( while weird to say, I *gave up* my funeral song for my aunt to have... this song reminds me of not just her, but so much more. Of love, sweetness, gentleness, kindness and ... pureness. God it's hard to explain. Lucky this is for me, and noone really reads this, eh?!)

Butterfly - Delta Goodrem (Look, I didn't say these were my favourite songs. I said these were ones that made me get transported. This one brings me to my daughter. This one I could have written, and wished I did write, for her.)

By Your Side - Sade ( while we had three wedding songs, this is the song that I hear and really, really am reminded of the day.. of the fun... the love.. the perfection....)

Lithium - Evanescence (while self explanatory, it also is the only other song, apart from Goodbye my Lover, to have literally stopped me from being able to drive... I had to pull over on the freeway with this one... and sit and listen...and I sobbed.. like a big, stupid baby. )

Scar - Missy Higgins ( I just gasp every time I hear this song. It reminds me of my girlfriends. Of when life was good, times were a little edgy, but in general life was mine, and i was living it well)

Stuck in the Middle With You - Stealers Wheel ( the look on TGD's face when she was waiting for me to finish work, forcing herself to have a drink, and talk to apparently the most ridiculous people in existance..night after night.... now that's priceless friendship right there!)

Oh man.. there are so many. Right now.. these are the ones that come to mind. I must be in that kind of retrospective mood. But, let me just say, these transporter songs, can be instantaneous. There is a new song, 1973 - James Blunt. While it reminds me of just 2 weeks ago, whenever I hear it - on the radio, the tv, my ipod, store music stereos, wherever... it reminds me that I am 'home'... making new memories with new friends, and everything is being played out how it is meant to....

Verse by verse... Chorus after chorus...

Scents of Home

2007-09-25T19:04:00.000-05:00

It just so happened, that a day after officially becoming 'permanent' here, I walked up the stairs to my (first) front door, fumbling with the keys, as always.. and fumbled some more with the second key into the second door...complaining and bitching.... and... then, was hit by that familiar smell, that seems so.out.of.place here in New York, which almost made me wonder if the key had been difficult to turn because I was in the wrong house?! But I wasn't. This was my house, these were my steps (note to self, vacuum day tomorrow) and that, dear friends, is my.smell.

Lavender; black pepper; vetiver; ylang ylang; clary sage..... essential oils, combined with the almost sticky smell of sweet almond oil. It smells like relief. It smells like letting go. It's the scent of months of stress rolling off warm, tired skin. It reminds me of hundreds of other scents, all unique, but strangely, all the same. It reminds me of who I used to be. Of what I love; giving massage; the human body; helping people to heal, in a very passive, non mother-hen kind of way. It reminds me of who I am; a strong woman, who is, all dumbass jokes aside, pretty smart, sensitive and caring.

It reminds me of home. My home. Physically, and within me. And there is absolutely no better time than now, to be reminded of that...

I gave my friend a massage today. As she put it, a "real" one. I questioned her with, "what did you expect - a feather and a tickle?" .. She was happily indulged, and, I know this sounds weird, but so was I. I tested out my shoulder... no pain...no clicks...no level of fatigue detected... whoot! It's been a year and a surgery in between massages, and did I 'forget' how to do my 'thing'? Nope! I know I've done better.. and that's ok.. while I was busy giving her a massage, my husband was in the other room, off work sick, and both our cars were getting tickets for being parked on the wrong side of the road...ugh... but for that 40 minutes.. life was peaceful for both of us... I realised I still have the same passion I've had for what seems forever, I'm still good at what I love to do; my friend got some much, much needed time to relax and spend a moment on herself; and I also found in the process a neat thing - in that the pendulum is swinging back to the middle...who knew?

But then, rekindled passions, real friends, and the smell of real life will do that to a chick, so it seems...

An essential oil or two doesn't hurt either!

It's Official

2007-09-24T19:36:00.000-05:00

Today I received some mail, the kind I've been waiting a long time for.... and the kind we have paid some serious 'bunse' for... but it finally arrived... Well, they... coincidentally, arrived. Which to open first, as I walked the ... wait, let me do the math...oh, I don't know5 or 6 blocks to get Miss A from school; while listening to James Blunt on my little earpieces....?? Eh... I shoved the bills into my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and opened the first 'official' letter.

"Mrs B... blah blah... we wish to... A#numbers....when it arrives, keep it with you....required by law.....

Officially, welcome to the United States of America. Your Permanent Residency has been approved"

Yay !!!! I'm in!!! I'm here.. Ok.. I was here, I have been here. This is all formality. But you have no idea. This is seriously awesome, awesome news!!

So... onto the next letter. Blueish in hue... the last time I was this scared about something with blue lines, we ended up with Miss A.... but... this was just a letter.... and I knew what it was...

9 numbers. first 3. then 2. then 4.

I have a social security number! Whoot! Ok, this is, again, no big deal to most people.. but in this country, its your life. It's the main way of identification, and it means I'm American!!!!!

It also means I can, and will, be taxed, monitored, surveyed, and have the fear of my identity stolen from me at some point in time.

But yay !!!!!!!!

I'm really living here. And I've finally got proof that I'm married; who I am now; and .... ME !!!

Good Times

2007-09-23T22:16:00.000-05:00

Some things just make you appreciate life. I know, coming from me, who is still sporting a scar that looks like I was attacked by a baby shark... and who's still got a date with an old Jewish guy to help sort out my life every single week... but some things.. just make you realise... eh... life is ok.

I think we need point form.

Blue sky. With only the slightest hint of man-made pollution, and a trace of allergy-inducing spores. Nice.
Old songs, which make you remember simple times. "Love Bites" came on the radio yesterday, and D and I fell silent, laughing here and there, both knowing we were reminiscing about different times, places, but generally... easier times. Right now I'm listening to Pink Floyd, which like most people, reminds me of getting stoned as a teenager, wondering how it was I would hide my 'dumbness' from my parents. If only that were all I had to worry about now!!!
I took Miss A to a Greek Festival today. A small two-block fair, with kiddie rides, food, and sunshine. I was with D, her son, and neice, and it was really one of those moments where life was gentle, relaxed, easy, and fun. I took photos, and it really seemed like I was myself today. Good times.
Probably the greatest 'life really is ok' hit to home is MV. MV is dying of cancer. Now, I've known people with cancer. I've known people to survive cancer. MV is dying of cancer. She is in hospital now, with an unrelated infection, but related in the sense that her immune system is compromised. She will be ok. This time around. MV takes care of so many people. So many kids. With no complaining. She takes herself to chemo. She gets sick. She doesn't complain. When I came with stitches in my wrist, she just gave me the silent "look". Thats all I needed. She's fighting for her life. She's fighting insurance companies. She's fighting. I'm just fighting myself. It makes me realise, that sometimes the demons we inflict on ourselves, are so, so small, compared to the ones we can't, simply cannot overcome. MV reminds me to be strong, because one day, whenever it is, I might be needed, by someone other than just my family, than just myself. And I'm reminded on good days like this, that life is actually, not that terrible.

I know that, yes, like the wind turns, I'm going to be saying something completely different some time in the future. I don't know when. But I'm writing down todays' thoughts so I remember what a day like today feels like....to hopefully hold off those winds of change. If I don't ... I might just get the 'look' from MV again ... and I can't quite deal with that... at least not until I've given her some KitKats !!!

It's All In The Cut

2007-09-22T20:15:00.000-05:00

At the local store.. and I can appreciate now why they aren't called the 'supermarket' here, like I'm used to.. because there is clearly nothing 'super' about them... but at the 'store', the most fun I have is at the 'deli' department. For some reason, the guys behind there always make me smile, or laugh, even if I'm in a very, very shitty mood. One guy is talking about making fresh lemonade, with real lemons, and the rest of the crew are teasing him.... I say, "lemonade is my favourite"..and he smiles....the next time, a guy cutting the meat slices his finger, and casually asks me if its ok he gets a bandaid and if I mind waiting. After much "that's disgusting" from me, and much more "no, really, there's no blood" from him... he asks if I want anything else, I say, no, and no extra finger.... it was a fun moment.

Today was no exception.

I always get confused when I go there. First off, I know I sound different. Half sounds like "harlf". And when I say "bolony", its foreign. Come to think of it, so is salami, and white american cheese. I dont know what I'm doing there. And I have no right to be there, given the whole vegetarian thing, and the fact I don't eat that kind of cheese anyway. Pathetic really, isn't it?

So today, lets just say, I got caught out.

Deli Guy - "how much did you say, and of what?"

Me - "half a pound, and of the salami.. i think, genoa.. does that sound right?"

Deli Guy - " yes it does, so does your accent.. where is it from?"

Me - " Australia"

... ok.. so.. he was flirting.. i wasnt. he asked if wanted to try the salami, as there were various types of genoa. i said no. i was vegetarian. he said, " whats a vegetarian doing in a deli"

i say, "buying meat for my daughter and husband"

Eyes lock. Cut meat is exchanged.

Deli guy - " Ohhhh....husband??? Oh. Have. A. Nice. Evening."

Me - "thanks"

The difference this evening ? I think, no kidding, is the cut. Not of the meat. But of the hair. I got my hair cut, and while I'm exactly the same, I feel more like 'me'. I think I had a bit more confidence, a bit more something, and a bit more fun. I'm not hiding behind all that is wrong at the moment, within myself, and it was a fun, harmless moment.

And did I tell my husband? Of course I did. It's all harmless, and made me feel just that little bit more normal. More like the woman he loves. The woman he married.

Though his final comment -

"he charged you for roast beef, not bolony"

Perfectly Blunt

2007-09-20T13:54:00.000-05:00

lets go back to a time of lightheartedness, just for a second, or 2000, depending on how quickly you can read. mmkay?

So, last night.. .wait.. lets go to yesterday morning first.. head pounding.. feeling very disgusting...knowing i have a HUGE day ahead, i realise there's only one thing to do... get.my.hair.cut.off. with 10 minutes to get dressed, organised, and get over to the salon - about a 15 minute walk away... i start the day racing. literally. i got there on time. without coffee.

so, task one for the day was fulfilled. new hairstylist, who i now love..and.. needless to say, i also love my new hair. even if its on my head!! who knew?

so i power walk again, to D's house.. we need to go over what we will wear later that night. girly stuff... but with a headache, aching legs, and intermittent thoughts of 'how old am i again?' i really shouldn't have been complaining then... i should have saved it up for 12 hours time. but it's ok. there was plenty to go around.

after hilarious epics of trying-on-of-the-jeans and tops.. with not just chicken nuggets, but cutlets showing up in various places... we finally decide on suitable outfits. feeling not quite slinky, or sexy, but not sweat pants PTA mum either. Perfect.

Into lower Manhattan we trek. And it was a trek. Trust me. I think by the 3rd block towards the train I was contemplating going back for different shoes, if only I thought I could make it those 3 blocks. Oh the irony! D had exactly the same boot on as me. Steve Madden has a whole fucking lot to answer for, that is all I can say. My calves and feet are still cursing his name. What gets me is D's boots aren't new. Mine were. First time my foot ever slipped into them. You'd think she couldve warned me?? I think she had forgotten why she doesnt wear them when she has to walk a great deal....Now I shudder to think of when I can wear them again, to justify to my gorgeous husband the 'absolute need' for the purchase. I think anywhere that I can walk down the stairs, into the car, and into a restaurant. 15 steps maximum. Maybe 30 with a glass of wine in between.

Anyway, so you get the idea. Where were we going? To a concert. James Blunt, was playing, in a small, cosy, beautiful ballroom; we were about 4 people away from the stage. Lurch infront of us counts as two people. And the two girls who were dancing so out of rhythm that D thought they had a hidden iPod and were listening to Black Sabbath or something - counted as one. Just out of weirdness. James was awesome. Pure perfection. He sang just like does on his CD. Ok.. that sounds stupid.. but you know.. he sang awesome live; he was perfect (did I say that already?) and he made me cry. Three times. D, on the other hand, who only knew one song..... "youre beautifullllllllllll" cried too. So it's not just me who was the sooky la-la. I'd have given my left arm to have my son stand there with me, and hear him sing, and see him so close, and so personal, and so perfect... but a CD in the mail will have to do...

The crying, by the way, came from the songs... the memories, the words, and the raw, divine emotion. From old songs that reminded me of times, other times, and a new song, that just felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.. in a good way. If you can relate.

It didn't come from our aching feet. Though it could well have. I'll tell you why. About 15 minutes before James went on stage, I said to D... "i cant take it. Im getting angry, and mad, and im so uncomfortable.. -insert whineeee here - i gotta take these boots off"... I thought she would give me the 'look'... instead she said, 'if i knew i could get mine off, i would...' - hers were under skinny jeans.. mine werent. Thanking the Thyroid Gods for something, i leaned on her shoulder, knelt down, and unzipped the monsters that were strangling my feet. I shrunk 6 inches, or Lurch infront grew, but I didn't care. Oh, man.. I could feel something other than aching, stabbing pain in my feet and calves. I moved around in my socks.. yes people... how Australian is that?... and it wasn't until D saw, I think, that it was actually possible, and she wouldn't have been able to groove and enjoy.... that she soon joined me. Boots slung over her bag, socks on, both 6 inches shorter.... and totally, totally comfortable and feeling the groove !!

When the ugly lights came on, and it was time to go home.. and walk all that way... allllll those blocks back to the subway... and allllll those blocks all the way home... ugh....

but in between...

We had perfection. We made new memories, between new friends, and heard music from a beautiful soul.

In socks and all.

This and That

2007-09-15T17:27:00.001-05:00

things go together.... September will always be the end of football for me, and now, it seems, the beginning of another type of football. There's always a 'match'... a 'something' that accompanies, or compliments... White wine and the beach. Red wine and a girly movie wrapped in a blanket.

Things just go. Black with white; cookies with milk. Coffee and a chat; baseball players and sunflower seeds..... you get the idea....

Which is why, when my body thermostat runs higher than most, I get SO.FREAKING.EXCITED when I read two numbers on the weather.com site for tonight-

48.

Yes. Thats right. 48. that means. its getting cosy. its getting snuggly. The leaves are falling; there are finally some damn pumpkins popping up in the stores, and I don't have to pretend to love wearing my bikini for another.. oh.... 3 months or so.. when I hit 'summer' the other side of the world... and even then.. thats only if I want to... and with my snow-white body...its not likely.

Autumn and winter is usually a time where people 'bed down'... they get depressed.. they get withdrawn and sad. I think I have my seasons all mixed up. I've always had them mixed up. I'm ok with that. It means I've cleared the path for some decent times ahead. I'm moving on, and i'm building stronger. Stitches and glue can hold me together on the outside, but im actually working on the inner parts as well. And I'm no joke about that. I take it very seriously. And it's messy. And like all those other things that go together - with cleaning out the attic- comes dirt. It's going to flow. So watch out. If you don't like it, you might just want to stop reading. Or maybe, if you're supportive enough, you'll know it's going to be just fine with a bit of a cry and a w(h)ine.

Actually, either way, if you're part of the dirt, you're going to hear about it.

Rosh Hashanah

2007-09-12T21:02:00.000-05:00

L'Shana Tovah

Now, for a Shiksa, thats a big word. But it basically means, "good year"...

It's the Jewish New Year, and not that you'd know, aside from the last name that floats around on our mail... but this is something we should well be celebrating. As always, I've picked it up, learned a little, and given what I could to our family, to help make the holiday mean something. Orders to buy challah bread (two loaves, one to be brought to my brother in law who I know loves it); honey; apples; dates; fish.. I tried to mention going to some sort of flowing water/river tomorrow to empty our pockets, but I was met with "what?".. and figured I'd save that for another year.

Why do I do this?

My first thought is, "I want to learn!! And I love the fact the foods are so steeped in tradition in this religion". The second, more selfish thought, is, "fuck it. .... oh yeah.. real pure there.... ahem... but... fuck it.. if there's a chance I can cast away all my bad sins/fortune/negativity...at ANY time of the year, and have it as a a recognised holiday... I AM IN!!!!" I mighn't shave my head and wear a wig, complete with thick navy stockings..... they clearly wouldn't work so well with the new Steve Madden knee high black boots I bought today as a part of my retail therapy ( trust me, its all therapeutic...)... but I will learn these holidays, and I will give my family the very best I can. The best a shiksa can give. And I know, even with the last name and all, I am still a shiksa, because last night, two 10 year old girls stared me down in the street, and made me feel like I was pure, evil, heathen flesh. Why? Because I had a low cut tank-top on, and tight-ish jeans. (ok, lets face it, all my jeans are tight-ish lately. I can't help that...I was on my way to my endocrinologist...give me a break!!).... While they had their 'uniform' on.

One day they'll know.

I'm just me; enjoying some honey; trying to get my life back to being sweet, and running smoothly.

Boots and all.

Life can be shitty. It isn't fun. A lot of it is wasted on fumbling around, not knowing what to do, or how to do it, and then worrying if the fumbling we did was even right, or noticed, or not noticed. I don't have answers. I have Uncle Charlie, who speaks the truth, and who works with me to help me change the way I see and do things. I don't think it's coincedence that I came to meet him (an ex member of the Israeli National Guard) who calls himself my new Jewish Uncle... right at the end of a very tumultuous year. One where the only thing concrete, solid, reasonable and perfect, was moving here, and being a part of my "B" family. And now it is their new year. I'm tagging along. I want in, and I want it to be an awesome, prosperous, happy, and DIFFERENT new year. Systems are going to change. And I'm writing that for myself, and for noone else, but just so I can go back and remember when I consciously decided on that.

And thats how it will be.

L'Shana Tovah Umetukah - A good and sweet year, everyone.....

at least until Dec 31st, when we just get drunk and forget all our sins and just pretend like the year ahead is going to be better, while downing shots of tequila and wearing lampshades on our heads.

But you know what? For all I have gone through in the last month with this thing inside my head; for all that I have felt; uncovered; dealt with; realised; cried over; cut over......

Oy! I'm happy to have a New Year.... bring on the sweet life !

speaking freely

2007-09-10T07:03:00.000-05:00

There is no coming to consciousness without pain.

Carl Jung

I have therapy tonight. I think it's safe to say, I'm hearing Jung loud and clear.

I've gone through a whole set of emotions lately.. uh.. yeah.. thats an understatement. Right now, I'm agitated, and shitty, and I just want people to leave me alone. I know they mean well, and they do, but if I want to lay on the sofa, and curl into a ball, then let me. If I want to feign some sort of energy and take a walk, let me fucking decide... I get so mad and so angry and so insanely introverted when someone is trying to decide how I heal. What is best for me....

Oh fuck. I just got it. Or at least, where all this is from.

(there was a long, long pause there.. you didnt notice....)

So something bad happens, and well meaning, loving people, want to help the transition, and want to guide me to healing in a positive, more productive way. They want to show me it's ok to feel this or that, and that what happened is, while not ok, happened, and we will deal with it. They want to nurture. They arent bringing their own shit into it. Sometimes, a little misguided.. but ... it's not like they have a rule book to go by. And I know. I'm a little hard work from time to time ;-)

But they are doing 'right'.

See, the thing is... I'm was never one for that. If I'm ... like this...then leave me alone. Let me deal with it by myself. Let me go through the pain, let me fumble through this madness alone. Let me heal the way I heal .. ok, yeah, which has been totally messed up until this point .. and then go through the cycle again. Sometimes coming out ok for a while, but really, it's my hurt, so why should anyone else be a part of it?

I've never had 'right'. I've never had someone to sanely, thoughtfully, lovingly help fight alongside me. I was hurt for a long, long time. I dealt with it alone. Noone stepped up. Noone stepped in. Noone made it better.

And before this gets any more of a 'poor me', and I have nothing left to say in therapy tonight.... at least lets just say I'm writing this so I will always remember the connection... of where the anger and irritation comes from ...

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

Carl Jung

A New Face

2007-09-07T07:03:00.000-05:00

The pink in here was getting a bit old. I used to love the pink room. I have great memories of it. Sometimes, in my mind, I still slip into its security; its comfortable feeling; its fun and its love. But we all have to move away. Paint the walls. Do something to make things fresh again.

I'm doing ok. I've got the best support in the world, over here. And the people who have been calling me from over there, well.. they know I love them. But they call regardless of what I do to end up in ER on a saturday afternoon... and that's why I love them. Unconditional.

I just realised this is the first time, in a week, I've been left alone. Really alone. Not, "meet you at the Gap when we've collected our kids from school" (still alone, but surrounded by a thousand, stupid, stupid parents and strangers... ) I'm in my own house. Alone. The changing of the guards was a little off this morning, and there's a two hour window of aloneness for me. I guess that means things are looking up. The guy who loves me the most in the world is starting to see I'm getting 'better'....and am ok to be by myself for a little while. This is a good thing.

I'm focusing on that. Good things.

My cut is healing. The stitches come out soon. It didn't infect. There IS a God. It itches as it heals. I know... I can't blame anyone else. But fuck it itches.

The weird, freaky hallucination type things have subsided. Which is just in time. I was about to scoop worms out of my brains. Don't worry, not literally.... It's a weird, long story. But its subsided. I wont say gone away, because they've taken form of seriously weird dreams. But nothing a 'normal' person wouldn't have from time to time. So that's a blessing.

I've found the best... uh....Uncle? to talk to about all this. Again, long story, with no details. But it works for me, for us, and that's what helps. The best thing I ever heard from my own mouth (ok, i've said some good shit.. but this was actually relevant, helpful, positive, and coherent... so... yeah.. the best...)..... was while talking to Uncle Charlie a couple of days ago-

"I feel helpless, but not hopeless".

And that pretty much sums up where I'm at right now. Not bad, all things considered.

And right on cue... the coffee is calling.

Reflections

2007-09-03T21:31:00.001-05:00

"Reflection" -

Look at me
You may think you see
Who I really am
But you'll never know me
Every day
It's as if I play a part
Now I see
If I wear a mask
I can fool the world
But I cannot fool my heart

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?

I am now
In a world where I
Have to hide my heart
And what I believe in
But somehow
I will show the world
What's inside my heart
And be loved for who I am

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection
Someone I don't know?
Must I pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?

There's a heart that must be
Free to fly
That burns with a need to know
The reason why

Why must we all conceal
What we think, how we feel?
Must there be a secret me
I'm forced to hide?
I won't pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?

Christina Aguilera

Not everything stays the same

2007-09-03T19:03:00.001-05:00

... even if you try. Even if you push through, drown out the issues, or set to work through things piece by piece. Take the drugs, take the new drugs, admit therapy is the best thing to help along with the new, new drug, and hope for the best. Sometimes, things just break.

Sometimes, there is no amount of anything you can do - when brain explosions hit, they hit. It's been working its way up for about a few weeks. We all could see that. What I didn't know, really, was how it was going to eventuate.

Why do I write this? Why do I share my inner most thoughts and life with people? Some of whom I love; and who have already been to see me to support; or have emailed to help; or those who read and I don't mind sharing with. Or then the ones I know read, and don't leave comments, and are just waiting, waiting for moments like this, to say, "HA! Life ain't so hot for ya, huh?".. Yes, I know you're there, and I truly, truly don't care. That is why I write. For those in my life who I love, already know my ups and downs, and those who aren't in my life.. I don't care about. The ones in the middle - who are in my life but I don't care about.. read this and don't judge. And if you do, don't fucking tell me. I don't need to hear it.

I love my husband. He has a hard time dealing with my moods. I dont blame him. So do I. It's not easy, that's for sure.

I love my daughter. She has her moments.. she's 4. She starts school tomorrow. It's an exciting time, and we are loving the fact that she isn't nervous, but very happy and excited.

I got notice from the USCIS (immigration) that within 30 days I can finally work in this country.

(these are pre-cursers, you know that, don't you?)

Three days ago, my Dr. put me on a new drug, along with the others, and I guess it takes a little longer than the day I let it, to kick in. He also ordered..ok... gently suggested I take up therapy very instantly.... after crying in his office.. telling him of my sadness, my fears, my obvious-to-him anger at unresolved shit, and above all, my worthlessness.

SO it's kinda interesting to know that I'm now sporting 6 stitches in my left wrist. Apparently stitching happens when glue isnt enough. I'm learning something along the way, I guess.

Instead of being kept in hospital, I pleaded with the rotation Dr, and am basically on rest; with husband love; and best friend daily help; and ...sigh... will call my Dr tomorrow, to get a lecture... i mean... instruction.. on what to do next.

I don't think I'm truly depressed anymore. It's a weird, weird thing. I'm not sure anyone who doesn't know this disorder can understand it... but to be honest, I still feel hollow, empty, worthless and shit.

I'm just going to take things one day at a time. Maybe one hour at a time, for now.

And the reason I'm writing, is more so I can recall my own actions, my own feelings, my own mood swings...

Any external judgement can go to hell.. there's no room left here for it.

Normal Vent

2007-08-30T19:56:00.000-05:00

normal: In behavior, normal means not deviating very much from the average; "not normal" is often used in a negative sense (improper, sick, etc.). Abnormality varies greatly in how pleasant or unpleasant this is for other people; somebody may half-jokingly be called "pleasantly disturbed". ...as defined by en.wikepedia.org

This is what I am coming to realise. Normality bites. Abnormality is largely defined by how the person in question AFFECTS others. What sort of shit is that? So, if I live alone, and dress in paper towels dipped in olive oil; or eat with my toes, or eat my toes.. and no one else's life is bothered by it, or aware of it.. then my act/s could be considered 'normal'??

Or what if, you have been defined by society, or even a select few of society, as someone who deviates from normal behaviour, hence, are abnormal.... would it be conclusive to say that whatever behaviour, from that point on, and even in retrospect, you displayed could be under scrutiny. It could be not normal.. deviant..abnormal..something clinically wrong with you, just because someone has once said that about you??

I find a career I want. Its hard to get the paperwork together to even apply. But I want to.

I find a job that is perfect. FUCKING perfect for me, right now. Not a shitty job; a real job, doing the things I love doing the most, and yet I can't apply because I don't have standing in this country yet.

I have one friend here. One. But a great one.

I am a wife. I cook. I clean. I tend to my child. I am around my child more than anyone. I don't complain. I love her, and never take her for granted.

I get a migraine, for the first time in almost a year. I still go to the store, I still cook dinner. I still see my friend. I even walk, though I feel like someone is trying to sledgehammer my eyeballs out of my head..

Because of my 'abnormal' diagnosis, for something totally unrelated to any of this, I am seen, lately, as 'different'. Unpleasant to be near. My words are picked apart. My actions are scrutinised. Questions are raised. Answers arent given. Instead of just seeing it as, I'm living life, like everyone else in this world, and have suddenly got a massive, fucking kick-ass pain inside my head. I havent changed. YOU might have. But I haven't. I'm just dealing with this headache, just as anyone else, I feel, would. Infact, given my high tolerance to pain, I'd say I'm dealing with it a whole fucking lot better than most.

I bake muffins. And cookies. And fight off the pain. I'm quiet, and don't ask for anything, from anyone.

Why?

Because I know I will be judged. Because I already am not normal. Or not 'well'. I'm already behind the 8 ball, and I know, that with one slight comment, I'm going to be sunk down that dark hole, with no regard for why, what, or how. I know that any weakness I display, I will be held accountable to, more so than anyone else. I am already 'fucked'...

And you know what?

It sucks. And I'm done with it. I AM normal, and if I am in any way, ABnormal, it is because I can tolerate a whole lot more than most.

Right now, I am in a 'leave me the fuck alone' mood. Can you tell?? The tennis is on; pre-season football is on; the yankees won today, and I got in a good exercise walk. The headache is subsiding. Life should be good.

It's not, because I HATE being treated like I'm the one that is wrong all the time. Like it's always ME that is the problem. A headache is a headache. Fucking deal. I did. My personality didn't change anymore than anyone else's would have. Bipolar people can get sick too, and not be manic. Or suicidal. Or both. Learn the difference.

and i think, my friends, that is enough rant for me.

for now.

It's Only Natural

2007-08-23T11:40:00.000-05:00

Finally! After over a year of wanting to go see this awesome exhibition, dappled in controversy and speculation, my husband got us tickets; I got us a babysitter; and off we went.

I thought the husband would hang his head and walk around disinterested; pretend to listen to me when I flitted from specimen to specimen discussing this and that; and try and dip out early to the bar across the road.

He enjoyed it as much as I did.

The exhibit? Bodies at the South St Seaport, lower Manhattan. It was literally, like walking into a human body/anatomy junkies heaven. Display after display of carefully dissected and prepared dead bodies, or parts of their bodies. A visual delight. I recalled things I thought I hadn't learned, but apparently did... when I could name a muscle I've never actually seen, but only looked at in two dimensional A&P books. The intricate make-up of the skeletal system; the endocrine system ( ohhhh.. so THATS what the thyroid looks like.... bastard!); even the fetal exhibition, proved fascinating. Seeing the tiny dark lines of an embryo where the ribs were starting to form...before they didn't. I pointed this and that out to the husband, who I initially thought was feigning interest, but later realised was actually listening. Who knew ?!?!

Resulting in

Pure. Freaking. Heaven.

It made me realise, that I actually do know quite a bit about the things I love most - muscles and the human body... but yet, I still know, soooo, sooo, little ! Which then led to a further think in the "what do I study" dilemma. It didn't last long...I think I had a definite answer by the time I got to the man standing with no ass-cheek, and half his quadricep cross sectioned, with a femoral nerve clearly visable.

Yay !

Who'd have thought a meeting with dead people, of all different... uh... compositions and poses.... would become such a definitive moment in my 'next steps'....

Positive, special, educational, thought provoking, inspiring....

good times!

Ok, so we still went and had a drink afterwards at the bar across the road..... debriefing...you know?

Kneading something...

2007-08-18T14:03:00.000-05:00

That wonderful man I love says it's PMS. I say it's just leave.me.the.hell.alone week. Whatever it is, today it peaked. Hence the reason I am sitting in my house, alone; husband and child escaping to the park; Sarah McLachlan belting out some melancholic-but-divine tunes; with the oven on.

I'm baking because I'm feeling. Something.

I don't know what it is just yet, but fuck... I just cried. Not an hour ago, not 10 minutes ago, but just that very second. Blah. Stupid saline drips.

Life is great. The weather is perfect, crisp, not hot; my husband is awesome; so is our daughter. I'm cooking that fun quadruple chocolate loaf that I love to make.

It's not enough. I'm going to make banana muffins (for me), and then some home made bread product of some sort.

My mother used to bake, especially bread, when something was on her mind, or when she was in some sort of mood. Mostly when it wasn't a pleasant one. But by the time the bread was warming on the bench, things seemed ok. And the bread tasted better than anything you could imagine. I think that's what just made me cry. Sometimes memories are so fucking 'present' it sucks. I'm sure they have their good intentions, but I don't exactly know what to do with them right now.

As I'm smelling the soft aroma of chocolate and vanilla creep out of my oven, nicely sitting on 325F, I wonder... when is it time to let the weight go? What is worse... Letting go and forgetting. Or forgiving and getting back? Giving second chances, or getting distracted and drifting away?

Which is better??

I don't know either.

So for now, I'm kneading my way to an answer.

And... right on cue... oven timer is beeping.

I'll let you know how things turn out.

Februnked

2007-08-11T20:51:00.000-05:00

So, that one word can cause a series of laughter, tears, and hysterical rants from two, now, very close friends. Not that we weren't close before, but a friendship was well solidified because of the Februnk.

Let me break this down for you real quick, otherwise I could be writing for the entire time it takes to drive to New Jersey and back. Twice.

Which is about 4 hours, including coffee break. Trust me.

So girlfriend, D...'s car breaks down. Simple issue. Something battery related. Now I know you know I understand all this, given my, uh, bad run with cars in Aus. So I feel her pain. But she has a friend's husband, who comes, takes the car away, to Jersey, and has it fixed, one...two...three.

Excellent.

But he leaves his work car - SUV - in Brooklyn, for D to drive back to collect her car. How nice. Thoughtful, loving friends... no doubt.

Issue one - the car FUCKING STINKS!!! not just eww.. roll down the windows.. but putrid, some-fucking-thing died in here, and its still there !!!

Issue two - D isn't feeling well to begin with

Issue three - the drive is over an hour and a quarter away. On roads that are so seriously demented, it takes a quick forgotten turn, to land you in Idaho. Get a map. Work out how messed up that is !

I'm a trooper, you know this. But I can't even tolerate sticking my head in the car long enough to say, "im going to puke".

But yes, like the nice friend I am, I offer to drive all that way, with my friend, so she doesn't pass out at the wheel and render me friendless.

We drive.. ok, she drives, the stinky, disgusting, nasty, putrid car... towards Jersey. What did we do to get rid of the funk??? We sprayed febreeze all through the car, and threw fabric softener sheets from the back, right through to the front.. leaving a spare incase we needed a gas mask. The stink was, not like, rotten cabbage mixed with stale smoke, it WAS rotten (produce.. vegetables) with stale smoke.

SO we drive towards her friends house... breathing in, not just the funk, but the overbearing purfumed smell of random air fresheners and clothing sprays.

We get headaches, and feel more ill than we could ever imagine.

Hence the term "we've been februnked"...

Blah.

We make it... finally..with windows down.. during the only cool day /night the tristate area has seen since the start of spring, with rain included, just to piss us off.

I drive home. D is feeling like shes about to be sick, still, and her friend has given her a gallon sized ziploc bag for the ride, just incase she doesnt make it ...

Dark. Interstate. Toll booths coming from left and right. Signs that pop up to turn left or right at the very last fucking second. Rain. Other side of the car (at least, clean, nice smelling car for the ride home). Friend sick.

One wrong turn.. No wait. Not even a wrong turn, just not enough 'right' for what we needed, had us from Staten Island (almost home) back to freaking New Jersey.

Im about to go insane. I swear.

Many calls to D's friends' husband, and we work out where to go to get back on the right road, to get home. More toll booths. More rain.

Ugh.

But we laughed, so hard, so real, and so full of life, it was hard to be mad. Ok, I yelled once at D... "which way????????? Which WAY????" But she forgave me. She hadn't had to use the ziploc yet.

So, all I can say, after all that... is never, ever, EVER try and mask a nasty rotten cabbage and cigarette smell with room deodorisor. It is so, so wrong !

But it will help you realise who your friends are.

Thats not such a bad thing, really.

Like a visit from an old friend...

2007-08-05T08:53:00.000-05:00

Two days ago my house was filled with old memories. There were some happy smiles, and some reminiscing tears. It was overwhelming, and exciting all at the same time. Miss A was bouncing around the place, remembering people whom she hasn't even thought of or spoken about for almost a year.

Our boxes arrived from Australia.

And all my obsessive compulsive sorting and packing on one continent 8 months ago, paid off. Only 4 things were broken or damaged.. one of which was the shipping company's fault. And they werent hugely significant things either... a vase...the glass from a photo frame...a novelty item from a hotel in Las Vegas.... and Miss A's dress-up chest, of which was important, and she was not happy about.

But that's a pretty good record, I would think.

Seeing all my 'stuff' here in my new house was very hard to deal with. I had thought it was all I was waiting for to make me feel 'at home'....so I would see familiar things.. things with memories.. and stories behind them ( and trust me.. my friend who helped unpack certainly heard many of those memories!).... I felt that if I just had some of 'me' in my new home, I would feel at home.

What I didnt anticipate was all those things, all those memories - happy and sad - all those bits and pieces of my past, making me feel very uneasy, and very, very homesick. Even down to the memory of when I actually packed the box; what was going on; who was around; the hot Australian summer calling me away from the job and into my friends' pool.

It totally sucked. For a moment. I had a day of uncertainty and confusion. A day of Miss A asking for certain people, because she has memories attached to all her toys and games and fairy dresses and such too... its not just me... but she hasn't asked about anyone. anyone. in so many months, I want to say 'at all'.. but I'm sure when we first moved she had some questions about where people were. It was hard.

Today it is easing. I feel more comfortable for some things ( the smell of my massage towels and essential oils, L... I can totally understand what you were saying. I couldn't smell it before, but now... that is heaven !!! My home is starting to smell like that again.. after just two days...and I love it !) I love that I now have photos of my babies up, so they are 'here' with me. It is awesome to see Miss A play with her toys just like she used to. I realise that she missed her 'stuff' as much as I did my own.

But I still have a deep, deep cut in my heart when I look at some things around my new home. I wonder how long that will take to ease. I am sure it wont ever heal ( that is a whole other blog post that I will have to get around to... my new Dr being very insistent I confront and deal with issues that have caused those wounds....ugh....but I digress) , but I know, even just a day or two after being overwhelmed by the .. finality.. i guess you could say... of everything I own being here with me in another country..along for the journey.. is very intense.

I just wonder how long it will be before I stop getting teary over seeing a candle set, or a gifted shower curtain, or some plastic sippy cups that all the kids would use. and fight over who got what colour.

In the meantime - cheers to old memories, and making new ones.

Not replacing, but recreating.

Well Rested

2007-07-31T22:24:00.001-05:00

Well im back. let me get this out right now, and say that we didnt bike ride. we didnt do anything strenuous. we laid on the beach. we ate. we walked leisurely through quaint little towns, and we took photos of whales in the middle of the ocean.

it was the best mini vacation i have ever had.

my husband and i talked, laughed, listened, and sat happily in silence.

im telling you, it was perfect.

i came home to some pretty hectic stuff. as expected. but at least i can work through it with a clearer head.

i'd go into more detail, about sights, sounds, smells.... but i want to savour it for myself for just a little longer. i hope you dont mind?!

Life is Good

2007-07-24T19:08:00.000-05:00

I'm off for a few days of quality time with my husband... yes.. just us; the sun; a long drive through a few different states; a ferry ride or two; some photography, and a ride on a couple of bicycles around an island. We'd love to go for longer.. but hey.. reality kicks in sometimes (really.. i dont know how it happens, but it does!), and there's no Fairy Godmother funding our trip... so its just a few days of escape.... but it definitely will be pure, heavenly bliss.

So, til next time... enjoy whatever it is you're doing ...

I know I will be !!!!!

( For those of you laughing at the thought of me riding around an island on a bike...17 miles of island.... shut up. ive done enough laughing for everyone, and i havent even got there yet !! And given my last blog entry, perhaps its something i should be getting used to??!!! )

License to bitch

2007-07-19T11:33:00.000-05:00

I've had my drivers license for 14 years, give or take a few months. I've not ever been in an accident... my fault or someone elses. I've gotten parking tickets, speeding tickets, and a shameful D.U.I a while back (one that was completely embarrassing, and i only had 2 red wines, i swear!).

I have driven on the 'wrong' side of the road over here a few times. Ok, I also got pulled over in D.C. for driving the wrong way down a one way street, but that was D.C... the roads are crazy there. Really. But apart from that, I am very conscientious driver. I know the road rules. I know to stop for people walking in front of me. And I'm pretty good at the whole indicating and turning and ...stuff...

And yet, I now have to go and sit a written license test. And take a 5 hour driving course. And a practical test.

Ohhhh My GOD !!!

Please think of me in my misery... sitting there with obnoxious 16 year olds, and random old guys who want to suddenly trade their old profession in for being a taxi driver.

Can you believe it??????