Some stuff happened in 2010:
The Good:
I finished school.
I hung out with my personal trainer 49 times. Sometimes I even exercised.
Stayed in the same job.
Tried internet dating.
Tried publishing a short story.
Tried black pudding.
Went to Malaysia.
Moved house.
The Bad:
I left my husband.
Well he left me.
We left each other.
We said goodbye to a beautiful, caring, amazing woman-my brother in laws mum. May the memory of her sun shiny smile always remind us to look for hope and happiness in this life.
I got sun burnt (okay, okay, that was just something that happened today.)
2011 is so curvy with possibilities. Like a heavily pregnant woman.
Next year, I would like to:
Publish something.
Visit a hairdresser.
Get the battery on my computer fixed.
Get a job that pays me enough to stop worrying about money all the time.
OR stop spending money on stupid stuff when the rent is due.
Visit Paris.
Maybe go to Wales?
Run a half marathon!
Drink more water.
Spend more time with different people.
maybe go to wales?
Go to Wales.
Walk or run every day.
Be a better housemate.
Cook more.
Eat more.
Watch less crappy films.
Learn some french.
and probably go to Wales.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Scars.
We have matching scars above our eyebrows. Mine is from a cat scratch, I don't know what his is from.
He also has a deep scar on his bottom lip that traces the curve of his pout.
It is so beautiful that i think that the car accident that put it there was almost worth it. I don't think he would agree. But of course, that all happened long before I knew him. His car skidded across some black ice or the snow fell too heavily on his windscreen or a lorry lost control in the sleet. i don’t know the details. When he talks about it, i am too distracted by the scar and how much i want to run my tongue along its jagged edge.
At the same time that the steering wheel was pushing itself through his lip, I was probably sun baking on the other side of the planet. I guess in that way, we are worlds apart.
I have never seen the place he grew up. Never patted his cat or smiled at his niece. I have never witnessed how he talks to his brothers or if he looks his mother in the face when he says goodbye. I don’t know what he looked like as a child or the colour of his school uniform. I don’t even know if he had a school uniform.
He has no context except for right here and right now. The joy I see in his eyes when the sun comes out. His heavy breathing when he talks about his wife. His grin when he teases me. And the way that, that scar curves along his mouth when he frowns. These are the blocks that i build my love on.
I know nothing about him, except for who he is today. His past is hidden behind a plane trip, a decision to leave, a kiss goodbye, jet lag and a failed marriage that sticks to him like tar. All the things that led him to be laying, barely awake, curled around my body this morning, like a crooked question mark.
I have seen his scars and i love him anyway, in spite of them.
No, I have seen his scars and i love him because of them. I guess they match mine.
He also has a deep scar on his bottom lip that traces the curve of his pout.
It is so beautiful that i think that the car accident that put it there was almost worth it. I don't think he would agree. But of course, that all happened long before I knew him. His car skidded across some black ice or the snow fell too heavily on his windscreen or a lorry lost control in the sleet. i don’t know the details. When he talks about it, i am too distracted by the scar and how much i want to run my tongue along its jagged edge.
At the same time that the steering wheel was pushing itself through his lip, I was probably sun baking on the other side of the planet. I guess in that way, we are worlds apart.
I have never seen the place he grew up. Never patted his cat or smiled at his niece. I have never witnessed how he talks to his brothers or if he looks his mother in the face when he says goodbye. I don’t know what he looked like as a child or the colour of his school uniform. I don’t even know if he had a school uniform.
He has no context except for right here and right now. The joy I see in his eyes when the sun comes out. His heavy breathing when he talks about his wife. His grin when he teases me. And the way that, that scar curves along his mouth when he frowns. These are the blocks that i build my love on.
I know nothing about him, except for who he is today. His past is hidden behind a plane trip, a decision to leave, a kiss goodbye, jet lag and a failed marriage that sticks to him like tar. All the things that led him to be laying, barely awake, curled around my body this morning, like a crooked question mark.
I have seen his scars and i love him anyway, in spite of them.
No, I have seen his scars and i love him because of them. I guess they match mine.
Yey.
I just bought new runners.
More jogging, more blogging.
New years resolution is to run the half marathon in October. For real this time.
I have worked something out for myself this year: When I decide to do something, it takes approximately 1.5 years to come to fruition. So, on that note, I am going to publish something or the written form in the next ear and a half.
The end.
More jogging, more blogging.
New years resolution is to run the half marathon in October. For real this time.
I have worked something out for myself this year: When I decide to do something, it takes approximately 1.5 years to come to fruition. So, on that note, I am going to publish something or the written form in the next ear and a half.
The end.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Bret Easton Ellis
So i want to tell you all a little story that I've never shared on here. It's about the time i met Bret Easton Ellis. It is also about love. The main thing it is about though is how life twists and turns and navigates it's way through the terrain of relationships.
It was a Friday. Interesting things always happen to me on a Friday. Life has had a full week to ripen up to bursting point and by the time i pluck it, it usually splatters laughter and a dose of the surreal all over my weekend.
When i got home, there was a hand delivered note sitting on my doorstep. I recognised his hand writing immediately. Of course i did. I'd seen it a thousand times curling it's way around shopping lists and love letters and notes on my pillow. It was from him.
We'd seen each other earlier in the week. I had been honest for the first time in months, with him. I was over it, bored of the grief, restless in the separation. I wanted to blame him, make him feel my pain, feel my hurt, feel something for fucks sake. We'd had coffee and i had sliced through our pseudo friendship with carefully chosen words about how he had changed me. I actually saw him take a gulp. He looked paler than before. I had hit the mark, finally he had heard me.
"I don't think we should hang out like this if I make you upset." He had said as i focused on a street sign behind him.
Stop, it said. Stop. Stop . Stop. Stop. Stop.
"Oh!" I half laughed and half spat "I never want to see you again after today."
And it had felt immediately fantastic and i had almost immediately regretted it.
I was bitchy enough to ask him for a lift home.
What happened next is a tidal wave and a rainbow. We are standing in the drive way. We hug. Somehow, suddenly, we are crying. The sun is in my eyes and there is mascara on his shirt. I cannot let go. I never want to let him go. His snot is in my hair. It's so gross but i don't care. I love this man. This man. The one who lets me in and doesn't shoot me as i try to scale the walls.
"I have to show you something." I tell him.
And so we go inside my apartment and i pass him my computer. He needs to see this. He needs to understand what the last six months have been for me. So he reads my story. The one that is all about him and I. The one that details all the gore but recalls all the happiness. It's a story about a girl and a boy.
"It's true." He looks confused. "It's all true."
Because it is and he had forgotten.
He leaves, of course, because this is real life and not a story. If it was story, we would have kissed and fallen giggling into each others arms. He would have looked me in the eye and apologised and i would have shushed him with nothing more than a squeeze of his hand. The pain would have melted away and all our friends would have said they were not surprised.
He leaves, of course.
So on that Friday i return home from work and find his letter. I am scared to read it. This is real life and not a story. I wait until my sister arrives because i need back up on this one. A voice of reason. Some perspective. A parallel to my life that only my sister can provide.
We sit in her car.
The letter is four pages long. I am crying by the second page. This is real life and not a story. There cannot be a happy ending to this one because she will always be dead, even if i write it a thousand different ways.
What i read is that his grief enveloped him. That he couldn't see the forest for the trees. That he couldn't have love and happiness without guilt and regret. I read his words and I understand. I finally understand why he disappeared. It had nothing to do with me. It was not my fault. There is nothing i could have done.
He asks for my forgiveness. By page four, he already has it.
i wipe my eyes and pull myself together. I sit in the audience while Bret Easton Ellis talk about life being his inspiration. That you have to have fucked up shit happen to you, to be a writer. I realise i am a writer.
I meet Bret afterwards. I have bought a new copy of American Psycho for him to sign. The one i own is a photocopied version i found in Thailand. We had both read it. He never finished it though. The print was too faint and he gave up. He gave up long before i gave up.
Suddenly i am standing before one of the greatest writers of my lifetime (big call.) He is shorter and more human looking than i had expected. I kneel next to his table for some reason, and hand him my book. What's your name? He asks. I tell him but ask him not to dedicate the book to me. I tell him my husbands name and then blurt out something about a letter, about love about a story i wrote. Bret stares through his black rimmed glasses at the crazy lady kneeling before him. He says it seems sweet. Then changes his mind and asks me if it is sweet or if it's? If it's? My sister assures him that it's sweet and helps me off the floor.
I drop the book to him a few days later. He is smiling. He finally gets to finish it. But what he really needs to read is on the title page. I watch him as he turns the pages. Notice his eyes change as he registers the words. He touches the black ink.
"To L,
She says she forgives you.
Bret Easton Ellis. "
And just like that, i really, really do.
We will never be together again, you understand. It's not about forgiving him so we can traipse off together into happily ever after. It's forgiving him so we can traipse separately. It's letting him go. And helping him let me go.
"Dear Bret,
Thank you for changing my life,
I jog therefore i blog."
The end.
It was a Friday. Interesting things always happen to me on a Friday. Life has had a full week to ripen up to bursting point and by the time i pluck it, it usually splatters laughter and a dose of the surreal all over my weekend.
When i got home, there was a hand delivered note sitting on my doorstep. I recognised his hand writing immediately. Of course i did. I'd seen it a thousand times curling it's way around shopping lists and love letters and notes on my pillow. It was from him.
We'd seen each other earlier in the week. I had been honest for the first time in months, with him. I was over it, bored of the grief, restless in the separation. I wanted to blame him, make him feel my pain, feel my hurt, feel something for fucks sake. We'd had coffee and i had sliced through our pseudo friendship with carefully chosen words about how he had changed me. I actually saw him take a gulp. He looked paler than before. I had hit the mark, finally he had heard me.
"I don't think we should hang out like this if I make you upset." He had said as i focused on a street sign behind him.
Stop, it said. Stop. Stop . Stop. Stop. Stop.
"Oh!" I half laughed and half spat "I never want to see you again after today."
And it had felt immediately fantastic and i had almost immediately regretted it.
I was bitchy enough to ask him for a lift home.
What happened next is a tidal wave and a rainbow. We are standing in the drive way. We hug. Somehow, suddenly, we are crying. The sun is in my eyes and there is mascara on his shirt. I cannot let go. I never want to let him go. His snot is in my hair. It's so gross but i don't care. I love this man. This man. The one who lets me in and doesn't shoot me as i try to scale the walls.
"I have to show you something." I tell him.
And so we go inside my apartment and i pass him my computer. He needs to see this. He needs to understand what the last six months have been for me. So he reads my story. The one that is all about him and I. The one that details all the gore but recalls all the happiness. It's a story about a girl and a boy.
"It's true." He looks confused. "It's all true."
Because it is and he had forgotten.
He leaves, of course, because this is real life and not a story. If it was story, we would have kissed and fallen giggling into each others arms. He would have looked me in the eye and apologised and i would have shushed him with nothing more than a squeeze of his hand. The pain would have melted away and all our friends would have said they were not surprised.
He leaves, of course.
So on that Friday i return home from work and find his letter. I am scared to read it. This is real life and not a story. I wait until my sister arrives because i need back up on this one. A voice of reason. Some perspective. A parallel to my life that only my sister can provide.
We sit in her car.
The letter is four pages long. I am crying by the second page. This is real life and not a story. There cannot be a happy ending to this one because she will always be dead, even if i write it a thousand different ways.
What i read is that his grief enveloped him. That he couldn't see the forest for the trees. That he couldn't have love and happiness without guilt and regret. I read his words and I understand. I finally understand why he disappeared. It had nothing to do with me. It was not my fault. There is nothing i could have done.
He asks for my forgiveness. By page four, he already has it.
i wipe my eyes and pull myself together. I sit in the audience while Bret Easton Ellis talk about life being his inspiration. That you have to have fucked up shit happen to you, to be a writer. I realise i am a writer.
I meet Bret afterwards. I have bought a new copy of American Psycho for him to sign. The one i own is a photocopied version i found in Thailand. We had both read it. He never finished it though. The print was too faint and he gave up. He gave up long before i gave up.
Suddenly i am standing before one of the greatest writers of my lifetime (big call.) He is shorter and more human looking than i had expected. I kneel next to his table for some reason, and hand him my book. What's your name? He asks. I tell him but ask him not to dedicate the book to me. I tell him my husbands name and then blurt out something about a letter, about love about a story i wrote. Bret stares through his black rimmed glasses at the crazy lady kneeling before him. He says it seems sweet. Then changes his mind and asks me if it is sweet or if it's? If it's? My sister assures him that it's sweet and helps me off the floor.
I drop the book to him a few days later. He is smiling. He finally gets to finish it. But what he really needs to read is on the title page. I watch him as he turns the pages. Notice his eyes change as he registers the words. He touches the black ink.
"To L,
She says she forgives you.
Bret Easton Ellis. "
And just like that, i really, really do.
We will never be together again, you understand. It's not about forgiving him so we can traipse off together into happily ever after. It's forgiving him so we can traipse separately. It's letting him go. And helping him let me go.
"Dear Bret,
Thank you for changing my life,
I jog therefore i blog."
The end.
Monday, December 20, 2010
An open letter.
And so this is Christmas.
In all the present buying, 50 hour working week, wine drinking on monday night madness, i have crash banged right up against my unfinished business.
Why does Christmas do this to us? The thought of the year ending automatically brings up a "yessssnooooooooo" feeling for me. On the one hand, i cannot wait for it to be over, but then on the other? That will mean it is over. I wonder why we find it so hard to let go of the things that hurt us?
At this point, the ex husband and i are no longer speaking. It's horrible and it's hard, but it is what has to happen if we have any hope of moving forward without each other. So in place of all the things i would like to tell him this Christmas, I thought an open letter was in order. I mean, it has to go somewhere doesn't it?
Dear L,
I've been thinking about you these last few days, quite a lot actually.
I keep thinking about last Christmas and that treasure hunt and of course my pink bike. I've been thinking also about the Christmas before which is almost too painful to look at. When i glance into that corner of my brain, i see you again. The you that I adored so very, very much. We are sitting at your brothers, and pulling bon-bons and your mum is there. She's dressed all in white and has a goofy paper hat on and a baby in her arms. She looks so happy. She really seems so happy.
I cannot bear to think about what came before or after that minute in time. It hurts too much to remember who we were then.
The other thing i've been thinking about is our first Christmas together. About how you played santa and put out stockings for us in the middle of the night. When i saw them in the morning, for a split second i was 5 years old again. I gasped because for a second, santa was real! You had bought magic into my life.
I think i have been scared to remember the good times. It's easier to believe that the whole thing was a lie. That it was just a matter of making a mistake, of marrying the wrong person. Feeling like I married the right person but then lost you is just too devastating. It makes me miss you too much.
I am sorry that this Christmas, we are not speaking. I am so sorry that the things i do hurt you. I wish things had been different, that we had been different, that i could tug on those hands of time and rewrite this whole story. Mostly i am just sorry that we turned out to be like every other couple who breaks up in the world. I'm sorry. When we broke up, i was relieved that I wouldn't have to deal with the grief anymore, that your fucked up family was no longer mine. I am so sorry for feeling that way. I miss them, warts and all, more than i can explain.
It is not your fault. It never was. It's not your mums fault either. No one is to blame. I cannot remember much from what your mum wrote in that last note, but i do remember her asking for forgiveness. So i want you to know that I forgive you for everything and I am working on forgiving myself.
I know you, and i know this Christmas will be a hard one for you. But you have faced worse things in your life and things can really, only get better. And they will. That's my wish for you L, today and always, that the happiness we felt with each other reappears someday. It won't be this Christmas, but maybe by the next?
I trust you. I trust that you are living the kind of life that you want to live. Beyond that, there is nothing else i can do.
Merry Christmas L, and a happy new year.
In all the present buying, 50 hour working week, wine drinking on monday night madness, i have crash banged right up against my unfinished business.
Why does Christmas do this to us? The thought of the year ending automatically brings up a "yessssnooooooooo" feeling for me. On the one hand, i cannot wait for it to be over, but then on the other? That will mean it is over. I wonder why we find it so hard to let go of the things that hurt us?
At this point, the ex husband and i are no longer speaking. It's horrible and it's hard, but it is what has to happen if we have any hope of moving forward without each other. So in place of all the things i would like to tell him this Christmas, I thought an open letter was in order. I mean, it has to go somewhere doesn't it?
Dear L,
I've been thinking about you these last few days, quite a lot actually.
I keep thinking about last Christmas and that treasure hunt and of course my pink bike. I've been thinking also about the Christmas before which is almost too painful to look at. When i glance into that corner of my brain, i see you again. The you that I adored so very, very much. We are sitting at your brothers, and pulling bon-bons and your mum is there. She's dressed all in white and has a goofy paper hat on and a baby in her arms. She looks so happy. She really seems so happy.
I cannot bear to think about what came before or after that minute in time. It hurts too much to remember who we were then.
The other thing i've been thinking about is our first Christmas together. About how you played santa and put out stockings for us in the middle of the night. When i saw them in the morning, for a split second i was 5 years old again. I gasped because for a second, santa was real! You had bought magic into my life.
I think i have been scared to remember the good times. It's easier to believe that the whole thing was a lie. That it was just a matter of making a mistake, of marrying the wrong person. Feeling like I married the right person but then lost you is just too devastating. It makes me miss you too much.
I am sorry that this Christmas, we are not speaking. I am so sorry that the things i do hurt you. I wish things had been different, that we had been different, that i could tug on those hands of time and rewrite this whole story. Mostly i am just sorry that we turned out to be like every other couple who breaks up in the world. I'm sorry. When we broke up, i was relieved that I wouldn't have to deal with the grief anymore, that your fucked up family was no longer mine. I am so sorry for feeling that way. I miss them, warts and all, more than i can explain.
It is not your fault. It never was. It's not your mums fault either. No one is to blame. I cannot remember much from what your mum wrote in that last note, but i do remember her asking for forgiveness. So i want you to know that I forgive you for everything and I am working on forgiving myself.
I know you, and i know this Christmas will be a hard one for you. But you have faced worse things in your life and things can really, only get better. And they will. That's my wish for you L, today and always, that the happiness we felt with each other reappears someday. It won't be this Christmas, but maybe by the next?
I trust you. I trust that you are living the kind of life that you want to live. Beyond that, there is nothing else i can do.
Merry Christmas L, and a happy new year.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
The trade off.
Last night i met my wonderful bookclub friends to discuss my boyfriends novel Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. (Johnathan Safran Foer is not really my boyfriend. Well he is in my head, but not in real life.)
Of course we talked about 9/11, we talked about parenting and metaphors and human relationships. And we talked about grief. At one point, my sister mentioned that her grief counsellor had said something poignant on the subject recently. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing it here. The essence of the statement was that grief does not go away. You never "Get over it." It changes and it changes you. It makes you numb and makes you feel. It doesn't go away though. The main thing about grief is that it serves as a reminder that you once loved someone very much, and then they died.
The dying part is not the important part of that statement. The loving part is. It is not as simple as I loved her for two years=i cried everyday for five. Or she told me she loved me on my wedding day=I will never marry anyone again to honor that. The ways in which you grieve are not a reflection on how much you loved. The fact that you grief is. Or the fact that you cannot grieve is. Either way, you loved.
And isn't that what this tiny and huge life is all about? That capacity to find pockets within our souls to keep those precious parts in? The people, the smiles, the mishmash of memories? When i finally die, be in tomorrow or in 75 years, i hope my heart looks like an advent calendar with endless windows. And behind each one would be things like "The time i held my niece for the very first time" and "the way "I love you" sounds in Welsh." Somewhere in amongst it all will be "I once loved a man so deeply and passionately that when his heart broke, i gave him half of mine" and "I finally forgive you."
And each little window will close one by one and noone will ever be able to take those things away or change them. They will exist forever. They already exist forever.
Of course we talked about 9/11, we talked about parenting and metaphors and human relationships. And we talked about grief. At one point, my sister mentioned that her grief counsellor had said something poignant on the subject recently. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing it here. The essence of the statement was that grief does not go away. You never "Get over it." It changes and it changes you. It makes you numb and makes you feel. It doesn't go away though. The main thing about grief is that it serves as a reminder that you once loved someone very much, and then they died.
The dying part is not the important part of that statement. The loving part is. It is not as simple as I loved her for two years=i cried everyday for five. Or she told me she loved me on my wedding day=I will never marry anyone again to honor that. The ways in which you grieve are not a reflection on how much you loved. The fact that you grief is. Or the fact that you cannot grieve is. Either way, you loved.
And isn't that what this tiny and huge life is all about? That capacity to find pockets within our souls to keep those precious parts in? The people, the smiles, the mishmash of memories? When i finally die, be in tomorrow or in 75 years, i hope my heart looks like an advent calendar with endless windows. And behind each one would be things like "The time i held my niece for the very first time" and "the way "I love you" sounds in Welsh." Somewhere in amongst it all will be "I once loved a man so deeply and passionately that when his heart broke, i gave him half of mine" and "I finally forgive you."
And each little window will close one by one and noone will ever be able to take those things away or change them. They will exist forever. They already exist forever.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Inspiration station or creativity on tap.
My creative well seems rather dry of late. What is going on?
It could be many things:
1. I usually write when i am feeling extreme emotions. I am pretty content right now which is great for life *applause* not great for writing *booooo*
2. I have finished school. No more being forced into painting 3 times a week. God, i miss it. I am going to enforce a once a week crafternoon once point three is over.
Point three: i am working 6 days a week and it is impacting upon my sensitive disposition. I don't hate people but I sure as hell have murderous thoughts about 90% of the people i come into contact with at work. My inner dialogue is like a scene out of kick ass where the little kid chops of legs 'n' shit. Sickkk......See? I have gone all bad ass.
Welsh recommended meditation last night which has been on my to do list between "yoga" and "stop drinking coffee" for as long as i can remember. Perhaps a new years resolution list is in order.
In the mean time, i am just going to take Nikes advice and do it. Paint that is. And write. Not run for crying out loud. It is far too hot for nonsense like that.
It could be many things:
1. I usually write when i am feeling extreme emotions. I am pretty content right now which is great for life *applause* not great for writing *booooo*
2. I have finished school. No more being forced into painting 3 times a week. God, i miss it. I am going to enforce a once a week crafternoon once point three is over.
Point three: i am working 6 days a week and it is impacting upon my sensitive disposition. I don't hate people but I sure as hell have murderous thoughts about 90% of the people i come into contact with at work. My inner dialogue is like a scene out of kick ass where the little kid chops of legs 'n' shit. Sickkk......See? I have gone all bad ass.
Welsh recommended meditation last night which has been on my to do list between "yoga" and "stop drinking coffee" for as long as i can remember. Perhaps a new years resolution list is in order.
In the mean time, i am just going to take Nikes advice and do it. Paint that is. And write. Not run for crying out loud. It is far too hot for nonsense like that.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
You know what's weird?
That yesterday i found myself at a gm christmas bbq. Who would have thought that such a thing existed? Not me, that is for sure.
But it does and I was invited. This means two things:
1. I am now someone who goes to the gym regularly.
2. I am no longer someone who does not go to the gym.
So thats been a massive change for me this year. The whole looking after my body and getting stronger and fit. I am excited to get to January and have it be a whole year since i started running. Even though i barely run at the moment, it's been an evolution from nothingness into somethingness.
The end.
(i am exhausted.)
But it does and I was invited. This means two things:
1. I am now someone who goes to the gym regularly.
2. I am no longer someone who does not go to the gym.
So thats been a massive change for me this year. The whole looking after my body and getting stronger and fit. I am excited to get to January and have it be a whole year since i started running. Even though i barely run at the moment, it's been an evolution from nothingness into somethingness.
The end.
(i am exhausted.)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Hearts memory.
ahhhhh! guess what? I am totally better!
I had a parasite. The only good thing about having a parasite is that it gave one of my sisters an opportunity to say "night, night parasite" which i find hilarious for some weird reason.
I also had a chance to take time off work and chill out emotionally. I think finishing school and going away and coming back to work was all a bit intense. I feel like my mind is much quieter now. i don't feel as impatient. I cried last night for the first time in a few weeks. (I know that does not seem like a long time, but it is in my world. i laugh alot, i cry alot. That's just the way it is for me.) It was good to get it out and i guess i kinda know why i have been sensitive lately.
This whole love, divorce, loving again thing is difficult to swallow. It's so scary and weird at times. I have this sense that the closer i get to Welsh, the more i am remembering how much i have lost. It's as though i forgot how deep my capacity for connection is, because my marriage was well and truly off the rails. Now just being with someone in that way-the hand holding, the dancing on the beach for no reason, the laughing, makes me recall that I had that once with someone else. I had the butterflies and the I love you toos and the inside jokes and the i get yous. And he was my best friend and the most amazing man that, that 25 year old girl had ever met. Then it all turned to shit, basically.
But it was not always like that. Oh no, it was not always like that at all. And now i remember and i finally understand why I jumped both feet in and gasped "YES!" when, after 8 weeks, he proposed. I get it. I was not silly or crazy or irrational. i was in love.
I had a parasite. The only good thing about having a parasite is that it gave one of my sisters an opportunity to say "night, night parasite" which i find hilarious for some weird reason.
I also had a chance to take time off work and chill out emotionally. I think finishing school and going away and coming back to work was all a bit intense. I feel like my mind is much quieter now. i don't feel as impatient. I cried last night for the first time in a few weeks. (I know that does not seem like a long time, but it is in my world. i laugh alot, i cry alot. That's just the way it is for me.) It was good to get it out and i guess i kinda know why i have been sensitive lately.
This whole love, divorce, loving again thing is difficult to swallow. It's so scary and weird at times. I have this sense that the closer i get to Welsh, the more i am remembering how much i have lost. It's as though i forgot how deep my capacity for connection is, because my marriage was well and truly off the rails. Now just being with someone in that way-the hand holding, the dancing on the beach for no reason, the laughing, makes me recall that I had that once with someone else. I had the butterflies and the I love you toos and the inside jokes and the i get yous. And he was my best friend and the most amazing man that, that 25 year old girl had ever met. Then it all turned to shit, basically.
But it was not always like that. Oh no, it was not always like that at all. And now i remember and i finally understand why I jumped both feet in and gasped "YES!" when, after 8 weeks, he proposed. I get it. I was not silly or crazy or irrational. i was in love.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Russian poetry, chicken soup and Marie Claire.
The good news:
I have not drunk coffee in almost a week.
I weigh 61 kg.
The bad news:
I think i should go and get a blood test.
I have not drunk coffee in almost a week.
I weigh 61 kg.
The bad news:
I think i should go and get a blood test.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Summer! Sunshine! This enthusiasm is not sustainable!
Hello friends!
I am exhausting myself with this enthusiasm for good weather and sunshine and having finished school. There is a ripeness in the air. Life is good and simple and sunny.
Yesterday i spent the day at the William Ricketts Sanctuary and took photos like this
and went and ate and drank this:
and suddenly, i was reconnected with my creativity. I wanted to paint and draw and sculpt and mould for the first time in a few weeks. I rushed home and looked through my visual diaries from the last two years. So much material! So much data for reflection and consideration!!
I am exhausting myself with this enthusiasm for good weather and sunshine and having finished school. There is a ripeness in the air. Life is good and simple and sunny.
Yesterday i spent the day at the William Ricketts Sanctuary and took photos like this
and went and ate and drank this:
and suddenly, i was reconnected with my creativity. I wanted to paint and draw and sculpt and mould for the first time in a few weeks. I rushed home and looked through my visual diaries from the last two years. So much material! So much data for reflection and consideration!!
Monday, November 15, 2010
We are family.
Things have been a bit quiet here on the ol' jog'n'blog this week.
I've been up in sunny Queensland soaking up some sunshine and family time.
My family.
My family is a close one. We are knitted and entwined and monkey locked in ways that i am not sure all familys are.
My immediate family (five of us) plus the ring-ins (my gorgeous brother in laws) plus my niece and nephew (AKA my favourite people in the world) all ventured into Boonah for my dads brothers birthday, which essentially turned into a family reunion of sorts.
Once there, we drank and laughed, sat around a bon fire, chased bulls in the paddock, got reintroduced to cousins, met other cousins for the first time, slept under the stars and talked. Oh the talking! You would NOT believe how much we talked. About life, about love, about each other, about ourselves, turning over the pebbles of truths and history, polishing them with "and i remember when you were born"s and "I really, really love you"s.
My family.
Sure, there are the demons that have weaved their way into the fabric. The aunty who is really my cousin who is actually my friend. My uncles attempted murder charge. The sick to my stomach things my cousin endured as a child. Affairs. Fist fights. Questions which go unanswered. But no one has been kicked out. The family sits like a living, pulsating entity that you can choose to be in or out of. You can immerse yourself there and never leave or just take a sip now and then for strength. It can be draining, inspiring, frustrating, wonderful. It is all these things.
My family.
4 Aunties and 4 uncle. They ask about my marriage. They understand marriage. Between them there have been 8. So they know about marriage. The also know about divorce. There is the advice, the "we never liked him anyway"s, the tears shed over the sheer injustice of love gone wrong. They see me in my best possible light. They see potential. They see strength. They see themselves.
5 children run around the property, shoeless, nappyless, slapped with sunscreen and not much else. There are no high chairs here. The babies eat in the crook of their grandfathers arms. Take afternoon naps squished on a couch between their fathers and uncles. They play and fight and play and fight and just as my Aunties see themselves in me, i see myself in my niece. My dad accidently calls her by my name. Around we go again.
And we all look the same. Strong genes forcing broad shoulders upon the boys. My cousin is like my brother from another mother. He calls me "stunning" once he realises we could pass for twins, then cackles out the same laugh as his father. My sister and I meet each others eyes. I mistake my aunty for my grandmother, out of the corner of my eye, more than once.
We are family. The threads all looping together.
There are no loose ends.
I've been up in sunny Queensland soaking up some sunshine and family time.
My family.
My family is a close one. We are knitted and entwined and monkey locked in ways that i am not sure all familys are.
My immediate family (five of us) plus the ring-ins (my gorgeous brother in laws) plus my niece and nephew (AKA my favourite people in the world) all ventured into Boonah for my dads brothers birthday, which essentially turned into a family reunion of sorts.
Once there, we drank and laughed, sat around a bon fire, chased bulls in the paddock, got reintroduced to cousins, met other cousins for the first time, slept under the stars and talked. Oh the talking! You would NOT believe how much we talked. About life, about love, about each other, about ourselves, turning over the pebbles of truths and history, polishing them with "and i remember when you were born"s and "I really, really love you"s.
My family.
Sure, there are the demons that have weaved their way into the fabric. The aunty who is really my cousin who is actually my friend. My uncles attempted murder charge. The sick to my stomach things my cousin endured as a child. Affairs. Fist fights. Questions which go unanswered. But no one has been kicked out. The family sits like a living, pulsating entity that you can choose to be in or out of. You can immerse yourself there and never leave or just take a sip now and then for strength. It can be draining, inspiring, frustrating, wonderful. It is all these things.
My family.
4 Aunties and 4 uncle. They ask about my marriage. They understand marriage. Between them there have been 8. So they know about marriage. The also know about divorce. There is the advice, the "we never liked him anyway"s, the tears shed over the sheer injustice of love gone wrong. They see me in my best possible light. They see potential. They see strength. They see themselves.
5 children run around the property, shoeless, nappyless, slapped with sunscreen and not much else. There are no high chairs here. The babies eat in the crook of their grandfathers arms. Take afternoon naps squished on a couch between their fathers and uncles. They play and fight and play and fight and just as my Aunties see themselves in me, i see myself in my niece. My dad accidently calls her by my name. Around we go again.
And we all look the same. Strong genes forcing broad shoulders upon the boys. My cousin is like my brother from another mother. He calls me "stunning" once he realises we could pass for twins, then cackles out the same laugh as his father. My sister and I meet each others eyes. I mistake my aunty for my grandmother, out of the corner of my eye, more than once.
We are family. The threads all looping together.
There are no loose ends.
Monday, November 8, 2010
We all know how it ended
But how did it begin?
Like all love stories do. We met, i thought his eyes looked kind. He seemed so much younger than he was. He was unusual. He rode a bike to work for Gods sake and ate muesli every single morning. He played obscure music and told me his favourite colour was brown. I remember thinking could i kiss his mouth for the rest of my life? I also remember thinking yes i could.
He proposed in the living room. It was two months after we had first kissed and for some reason, it didn't seem like the worst idea in the world. He had almost proposed the night before but we were so drunk and we had a fight about something or rather and so the ring stayed in his pocket.
The first time i met him, he said I have been waiting for you (I was late for our meeting.)
He dinked me home from a Tegan and Sara concert once. He dinked me home from a new years eve party once. Eventually he bought me a pink bike with a basket.
He told me he loved me for the first time at the Prince of Wales. I was sitting on a bar stool at the time and i almost fell off it. We had been together less than two weeks and we were ridiculously happy.
That's how it started.
Like all love stories do. We met, i thought his eyes looked kind. He seemed so much younger than he was. He was unusual. He rode a bike to work for Gods sake and ate muesli every single morning. He played obscure music and told me his favourite colour was brown. I remember thinking could i kiss his mouth for the rest of my life? I also remember thinking yes i could.
He proposed in the living room. It was two months after we had first kissed and for some reason, it didn't seem like the worst idea in the world. He had almost proposed the night before but we were so drunk and we had a fight about something or rather and so the ring stayed in his pocket.
The first time i met him, he said I have been waiting for you (I was late for our meeting.)
He dinked me home from a Tegan and Sara concert once. He dinked me home from a new years eve party once. Eventually he bought me a pink bike with a basket.
He told me he loved me for the first time at the Prince of Wales. I was sitting on a bar stool at the time and i almost fell off it. We had been together less than two weeks and we were ridiculously happy.
That's how it started.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Optimism is the new black.
This whole romance gig is bit like a sociology thesis on optimism.
I have loads of friends who have fallen in love with people from Other Parts Of The World. For example, my lovely friend K met her boyf in a bar in the city one night in Melbourne. I forced them upon each other and take 99% of the responsibility for losing said friend to Germany. Another friend is currently divorcing his wife who is Japanese. She lives in Japan. And there has been tooing and froing for another couple i know and i really worry about where they will end up and the sacrifices that will have to be made. One of them has to leave behind family and friends. One of them has to navigate a new culture, restart a career, watch their nieces and nephews grow up through photographs.
It's an interesting thing you know because i see all this happening. I watch the heartbreak and the bilingual arguments but still, STILL I am jumping into this thing with a man who will most likely get deported and take my heart with him. Why? For the same reason that all of us make stupid decisions.
I think it will be different for me, simply because i want it to be different for me.
I have loads of friends who have fallen in love with people from Other Parts Of The World. For example, my lovely friend K met her boyf in a bar in the city one night in Melbourne. I forced them upon each other and take 99% of the responsibility for losing said friend to Germany. Another friend is currently divorcing his wife who is Japanese. She lives in Japan. And there has been tooing and froing for another couple i know and i really worry about where they will end up and the sacrifices that will have to be made. One of them has to leave behind family and friends. One of them has to navigate a new culture, restart a career, watch their nieces and nephews grow up through photographs.
It's an interesting thing you know because i see all this happening. I watch the heartbreak and the bilingual arguments but still, STILL I am jumping into this thing with a man who will most likely get deported and take my heart with him. Why? For the same reason that all of us make stupid decisions.
I think it will be different for me, simply because i want it to be different for me.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
What i think about when i should be writing essays.
Sometimes when i look at the story of my life, i feel like the protagonist. The hero who is standing firm against the winds and wills of all the other players. The person we can all shout "You can do it!" to as they climb the mountain/run their race/chase the boy.
Other times, i feel like the antagonist-my own worst enemy. I boo and hiss at myself as i make terrible decisions, wait for karma to catch up with me and carelessly fumble my way through life.
But most of the time I am not the protagonist or the antagonist, I am just me. I look at these fingers as they tap, tap, tap on the key board and i realise something;
I am the story.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
How to: Get over a divorce.
For me, divorce is not like any other kind of break up i have been through. Maybe i was never really in love before. Maybe it is the breaking apart of hopes and dreams of your future together. Maybe it's as simple as timing and age and other compounding factors.
Whatever the reason, my divorce hit me like a ton of bricks. And those bricks sat, sat, sat on my shoulders for a long time.
I considered having an Elizabeth Gilbert moment and moving to another country. I thought about quitting my job, dropping out of school, adopting a little baby and moving to the country side. Therapy, begging for forgiveness, promising to change, burning down his house. These were all options.
But instead, I ran.
3 days after we separated i put on my sneakers and i ran. The day after that, i ran again. And the day after that, i met my personal trainer for the first time. I ran until i could run past the park where we said our wedding vows, without stopping. I ran until his house was just a blur on my periphery as I sped past. I ran until my ankle packed it in and my knee stopped bending. Then i flirted with my Physio until i could run again.
I pounded the treadmill.
Kicked a boxing bag.
I ran, ran, ran until my lungs ached and my heart didn't.
With each step, i thought of him. I thought of our lives. I thought of who i really want to be, the kind of relationship i would one day hope to have. i thought about how sad i was when we were together. I thought about that all encompassing grief that swallowed us whole. I thought about his face, his smile, and his sad, sad eyes. I thought about me. I thought about putting myself first for a change. I thought about where i want to work, who i want to spend time with, who i want to become. And each time my foot hit the ground, I let it go a little.
And through it all, i lost weight. A kg of bitterness, 600 grams of blame, an ounce of guilt. All adding up to that ton of bricks that fell all those months ago.
And I suppose, my dear friends, that is how i got over my divorce.
I still love running. But today i think I'll just walk.
xxxx
Whatever the reason, my divorce hit me like a ton of bricks. And those bricks sat, sat, sat on my shoulders for a long time.
I considered having an Elizabeth Gilbert moment and moving to another country. I thought about quitting my job, dropping out of school, adopting a little baby and moving to the country side. Therapy, begging for forgiveness, promising to change, burning down his house. These were all options.
But instead, I ran.
3 days after we separated i put on my sneakers and i ran. The day after that, i ran again. And the day after that, i met my personal trainer for the first time. I ran until i could run past the park where we said our wedding vows, without stopping. I ran until his house was just a blur on my periphery as I sped past. I ran until my ankle packed it in and my knee stopped bending. Then i flirted with my Physio until i could run again.
I pounded the treadmill.
Kicked a boxing bag.
I ran, ran, ran until my lungs ached and my heart didn't.
With each step, i thought of him. I thought of our lives. I thought of who i really want to be, the kind of relationship i would one day hope to have. i thought about how sad i was when we were together. I thought about that all encompassing grief that swallowed us whole. I thought about his face, his smile, and his sad, sad eyes. I thought about me. I thought about putting myself first for a change. I thought about where i want to work, who i want to spend time with, who i want to become. And each time my foot hit the ground, I let it go a little.
And through it all, i lost weight. A kg of bitterness, 600 grams of blame, an ounce of guilt. All adding up to that ton of bricks that fell all those months ago.
And I suppose, my dear friends, that is how i got over my divorce.
I still love running. But today i think I'll just walk.
xxxx
This is how we met. (It's a great story)
I was standing at the bar, fighting with my ex husband.
(get ready for a massive double standard)
And he is saying something like "You are the most annoying ex wife in the world."
And i am saying "I am not your EX wife douche bag, i am still your WIFE"
And he says "No you're not"
"Yes I am"
"Nope"
"YES I AM!"
"NO"
"I am i am i am i am i am!" (I am extremely mature at times.)
He shakes his head. One little gesture. An annoying smirk.
I.
See.
Red.
So i spin on my heel (that actually happens in real life) and shout into the face i am now looking at:
"This man and I are still married. I just need someone to acknowledge the fact that I am married to this person, even though i am not married to him!"
And this face smiles. And this face looks me in the eye. And this face says:
"I know exactly how you feel."
And as the red dissipates i notice a quarter of his right iris is a different colour to the rest. I like stuff like that.
(get ready for a massive double standard)
And he is saying something like "You are the most annoying ex wife in the world."
And i am saying "I am not your EX wife douche bag, i am still your WIFE"
And he says "No you're not"
"Yes I am"
"Nope"
"YES I AM!"
"NO"
"I am i am i am i am i am!" (I am extremely mature at times.)
He shakes his head. One little gesture. An annoying smirk.
I.
See.
Red.
So i spin on my heel (that actually happens in real life) and shout into the face i am now looking at:
"This man and I are still married. I just need someone to acknowledge the fact that I am married to this person, even though i am not married to him!"
And this face smiles. And this face looks me in the eye. And this face says:
"I know exactly how you feel."
And as the red dissipates i notice a quarter of his right iris is a different colour to the rest. I like stuff like that.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Things I didn't know.
I had no idea the words "You are so beautiful" in Welsh could sound, well, so beautiful.
I also didn't know that I would be this excited about finishing school.
And one more thing I didn't know. Turns out, taking 100% control of my life is the best thing I could have ever done.
I also didn't know that I would be this excited about finishing school.
And one more thing I didn't know. Turns out, taking 100% control of my life is the best thing I could have ever done.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
He asked me out to dinner, in front of my ex husband
and I was stuck half way between mortified and mildly impressed.
He is ballsy, i will give him that.
Insensitive? Most definitely.
Death wish? Potentially.
Later, someone asked if we were on a date. I said we were married. Which is true. Just not to each other.
He is ballsy, i will give him that.
Insensitive? Most definitely.
Death wish? Potentially.
Later, someone asked if we were on a date. I said we were married. Which is true. Just not to each other.
Friday, October 29, 2010
I had my last class today!!!
The journey so far has been quite a trip
There’s been times when i’ve stumbled,
sometimes i still slip,
But the people I’ve met!
The truths that I’ve seen!
I’m humbled, we’ve tumbled,
through forests of green
and red and black and every other colour
always there to support one another.
And from high up here, at the top of the tree,
I realise what i’ve been looking for,
And i found it.
It’s me.
lots of love from the girl who is one essay away from being an Art Therapist.
x
There’s been times when i’ve stumbled,
sometimes i still slip,
But the people I’ve met!
The truths that I’ve seen!
I’m humbled, we’ve tumbled,
through forests of green
and red and black and every other colour
always there to support one another.
And from high up here, at the top of the tree,
I realise what i’ve been looking for,
And i found it.
It’s me.
lots of love from the girl who is one essay away from being an Art Therapist.
x
Thursday, October 28, 2010
The Stress Express.
All aboard.
My first mistake was buying a Jonathan Safran Foer novel. "I'll read it later." I told myself, already knowing that that, was a humongous lie.
Then there was the stroll to the cafe. "I need coffee considering i am giving it up in a few days."
Oh...and face book. The perils of social networking.
And of course the phone calls to friends, sampling perfume at this gorgeous little shop around the corner, offering my sister a car ride, and of course obsessing over an opening line.
All these things have led me to: 24 hours until my final presentation of my student career and not one word being actually written on the page.
Toot toot.
My first mistake was buying a Jonathan Safran Foer novel. "I'll read it later." I told myself, already knowing that that, was a humongous lie.
Then there was the stroll to the cafe. "I need coffee considering i am giving it up in a few days."
Oh...and face book. The perils of social networking.
And of course the phone calls to friends, sampling perfume at this gorgeous little shop around the corner, offering my sister a car ride, and of course obsessing over an opening line.
All these things have led me to: 24 hours until my final presentation of my student career and not one word being actually written on the page.
Toot toot.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The thing about grief is:
It gets really boring.
And it attaches itself to people you once loved.
It's hard to let go of because it's all i have left of you.
The other thing is that it fades. Everyone always said "give it time, it is early days." and i could NEVER imagine that the feelings would go away. I forgot who i was for awhile there. I did not feel like me, that's for sure. I felt like a shadowy, sleepy, cynical, bitter mess.
i feel shiny again. Finally.
xxxxx
And it attaches itself to people you once loved.
It's hard to let go of because it's all i have left of you.
The other thing is that it fades. Everyone always said "give it time, it is early days." and i could NEVER imagine that the feelings would go away. I forgot who i was for awhile there. I did not feel like me, that's for sure. I felt like a shadowy, sleepy, cynical, bitter mess.
i feel shiny again. Finally.
xxxxx
Sunday, October 24, 2010
This is how my train of thought is working right now.
"hmm...i should stop drinking so much coffee. Maybe i will give it up when i finish school! Maybe i can go all new age and only order green tea or something soy! And yoga! That's what I'll do, I'll take up yoga and only drink green tea. Maybe i could open up a yoga studio! It would be community based and all my friends could come and hang out there and we'd drink green tea together or soy decaf lattes. My dad could build it-all exposed beams and fernery through the windows. I'd call it Namaste and only wear long skirts and stuff. And yoga pants occasionally. Obviously."
So. I finish school in a week, the sun is ABSOLUTELY amazing at the moment, and the world is gradually opening up to me doorway by doorway. I'll never open a yoga studio, i can't even do yoga because my mind is loud and my body unwilling. Besides, who am i kidding? Green tea is yucky.
So. I finish school in a week, the sun is ABSOLUTELY amazing at the moment, and the world is gradually opening up to me doorway by doorway. I'll never open a yoga studio, i can't even do yoga because my mind is loud and my body unwilling. Besides, who am i kidding? Green tea is yucky.
Friday, October 22, 2010
The thing about love.
The thing about love at the beginning, is that it's just a matter of timing. It's the he and the she or the he and the he or the she and the she that just fall on the same page, same paragraph, same line, same tiny little word, all at the same time. And you are thinking "wow, this person GETS it. They get me and the world as i know it" Then it happens again!! Then maybe even another time and by then you are thinking "Well if we have covered this much time and space, maybe we should just stick to it."
And then you do and even when you are reading from another book you still glance over and see that YES!! Their book contains all the ands and don'ts and shes and hes that your book has. So you stick with it a bit longer and when the words get boring you look at the pictures and when the pictures no longer appeal you stare out the window for a little while.
Then you work on it and write chapters together entitled "The time we decided to buy a house" or "Once upon a time we created human life." And those chapters are enough to keep reading.
But it's the start bit thats gets you. That opening line. The smile on a tram. The "oh i love that book" that has you sizing them up and wondering if they hold your happily ever after.
And then you do and even when you are reading from another book you still glance over and see that YES!! Their book contains all the ands and don'ts and shes and hes that your book has. So you stick with it a bit longer and when the words get boring you look at the pictures and when the pictures no longer appeal you stare out the window for a little while.
Then you work on it and write chapters together entitled "The time we decided to buy a house" or "Once upon a time we created human life." And those chapters are enough to keep reading.
But it's the start bit thats gets you. That opening line. The smile on a tram. The "oh i love that book" that has you sizing them up and wondering if they hold your happily ever after.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Duck off.
I've been drawing loads of ducks lately. They seem to be popping up everywhere with their perky beaks and brisk feathery tails. I think it's something to do with the gentle curve of the necks and their beady, soulful eyes.
Leunig says they are gentle observers.
Maybe i need to be more gentle and observant.
Leunig says they are gentle observers.
Maybe i need to be more gentle and observant.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Everything is Illuminated.
I am obsessed by this novel.
It is different, quirky, multilayered. I want everyone in the world to read it.
I just accosted a man in a book shop. He was quietly browsing the Penguin Classics area and was straying dangerously from said book.
"Do you have Jonothan Safran Foer's other novel?" I asked the assistant loudly as i gestured wildly towards E.I.I.
"No i do not." He said, not even glancing up from the computer screen.
"Well....you should get it in....he is incredible." I nod emphatically at the other customer.
Working in retail myself, i know how annoying it is when someone tells you how to do your job, as though you have a direct line to every single distributor in the country.
"Have you seen the film?" He asks finally looking up, eager to ascertain my linguistic prowess.
"There's a film?" I throw back, poker face.
"Touche"
Meanwhile, the other customer has picked up said novel and it reading the back of it.
"I am always hesitant to watch movies of novels. I mean, we all saw what happened with Eat Pray Love."
We roll our eyes simultaneously.
"Give me your phone number" says the assistant. "I'll get that book and sms you when it comes in."
The other customer sidles up, next to me at the counter. I glance down. Everything is Illuminated.
"You will love it" the crazy bookshop lady says to the frightened man.
Game, set and match.
It is different, quirky, multilayered. I want everyone in the world to read it.
I just accosted a man in a book shop. He was quietly browsing the Penguin Classics area and was straying dangerously from said book.
"Do you have Jonothan Safran Foer's other novel?" I asked the assistant loudly as i gestured wildly towards E.I.I.
"No i do not." He said, not even glancing up from the computer screen.
"Well....you should get it in....he is incredible." I nod emphatically at the other customer.
Working in retail myself, i know how annoying it is when someone tells you how to do your job, as though you have a direct line to every single distributor in the country.
"Have you seen the film?" He asks finally looking up, eager to ascertain my linguistic prowess.
"There's a film?" I throw back, poker face.
"Touche"
Meanwhile, the other customer has picked up said novel and it reading the back of it.
"I am always hesitant to watch movies of novels. I mean, we all saw what happened with Eat Pray Love."
We roll our eyes simultaneously.
"Give me your phone number" says the assistant. "I'll get that book and sms you when it comes in."
The other customer sidles up, next to me at the counter. I glance down. Everything is Illuminated.
"You will love it" the crazy bookshop lady says to the frightened man.
Game, set and match.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Thirty
So my friends, this week marked my 29 and a half birthday. You know what this means right? Yep, in six months time i will be living it up in Paris-tanned, relaxed, hopefully drunk and definitely 30.
I'm not sure if i am ready for thirty. Here is why:
I still paint each nail and different colour and think it looks rad.
I have no Private Health Insurance or ambulance cover.
The thought of having a child makes me want to call The Department of Children's Services.
I think "because i don't want to" is a good enough reason to not get a real job/wash my hair/do the dishes/eat stuff that might contain nutrients.
I shop at Sportsgirl.
I have no idea how much i get paid, who i have my super with and which tax bracket i fall into.
I also don't know my own post code.
I watch Gossip Girl and The Hills and can relate to the characters and their dilemmas about hair straighteners and boys.
I can't drink a full strength coffee without going a bit stupid.
What is the difference between a Pinot Noir, Cab Sav and a Shiraz anyway?
But you know what? I am actually okay with all these things. And i have not always been. Maybe that is what 30 will be for me.
I'm not sure if i am ready for thirty. Here is why:
I still paint each nail and different colour and think it looks rad.
I have no Private Health Insurance or ambulance cover.
The thought of having a child makes me want to call The Department of Children's Services.
I think "because i don't want to" is a good enough reason to not get a real job/wash my hair/do the dishes/eat stuff that might contain nutrients.
I shop at Sportsgirl.
I have no idea how much i get paid, who i have my super with and which tax bracket i fall into.
I also don't know my own post code.
I watch Gossip Girl and The Hills and can relate to the characters and their dilemmas about hair straighteners and boys.
I can't drink a full strength coffee without going a bit stupid.
What is the difference between a Pinot Noir, Cab Sav and a Shiraz anyway?
But you know what? I am actually okay with all these things. And i have not always been. Maybe that is what 30 will be for me.
Hot, hot, heat.
Is it just me, or are there REALLY good looking men everywhere in Melbourne lately?
Maybe it's Spring time. Maybe it's the fact i am single. Maybe they have been here all along but i have been too emo to notice.
Whatever the reason, thank you universe for giving me such luscious eye candy. It makes jogging a billion times more enjoyable. Oh and if you can make it a few degrees hotter, that would also be great. The only thing better than a hot man is a hot man with no shirt on.
xxxx
Maybe it's Spring time. Maybe it's the fact i am single. Maybe they have been here all along but i have been too emo to notice.
Whatever the reason, thank you universe for giving me such luscious eye candy. It makes jogging a billion times more enjoyable. Oh and if you can make it a few degrees hotter, that would also be great. The only thing better than a hot man is a hot man with no shirt on.
xxxx
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Just joking.
People keep saying to me lately:
"What are you in such a good mood about?" and "Someone seems happy today!"
And i think to myself " Well yeah...I'm a happy person...."
My whole life, people have described me as bubbly, sweet, funny, cute, happy.
And then i remember, a year and a half ago, an atom bomb went off in my life and wiped the happy right off my face.
People who have only know me a short time must wonder who this person is. Distant, often disconnected, sensitive, bored. Someone in one of my classes said i had an overdeveloped self protection mechanism. And well yes, i do these days. I have grey hairs now, my dad always says "you look tired" and i swear i have more wrinkles than before. I don't trust very easily. I have trouble letting people in. I am guarded.
But the happy is coming back. I can feel it. I have more energy. I laugh a lot. I have stopped crying every second day. I'm not so sad. I have accepted what has happened. I am working on moving forward. I'm going to sell my engagement ring but keep all my wedding photos.
I will never be the same as i was. I have discarded the cute, refined the funny and am careful about the sweet. So no, i will never be the same. I will be something better though. (and yes i did see Eat Pray Love and no, i am not just copying her.)
On another note, i walked/ran 6.5km today. And i hardly complained at all at the gym last night.
Except for saying "I hate you, i hate exercise, and i hate coming here" when my trainer asked me why i was in such a good mood.
I hope he realised i was just joking.
"What are you in such a good mood about?" and "Someone seems happy today!"
And i think to myself " Well yeah...I'm a happy person...."
My whole life, people have described me as bubbly, sweet, funny, cute, happy.
And then i remember, a year and a half ago, an atom bomb went off in my life and wiped the happy right off my face.
People who have only know me a short time must wonder who this person is. Distant, often disconnected, sensitive, bored. Someone in one of my classes said i had an overdeveloped self protection mechanism. And well yes, i do these days. I have grey hairs now, my dad always says "you look tired" and i swear i have more wrinkles than before. I don't trust very easily. I have trouble letting people in. I am guarded.
But the happy is coming back. I can feel it. I have more energy. I laugh a lot. I have stopped crying every second day. I'm not so sad. I have accepted what has happened. I am working on moving forward. I'm going to sell my engagement ring but keep all my wedding photos.
I will never be the same as i was. I have discarded the cute, refined the funny and am careful about the sweet. So no, i will never be the same. I will be something better though. (and yes i did see Eat Pray Love and no, i am not just copying her.)
On another note, i walked/ran 6.5km today. And i hardly complained at all at the gym last night.
Except for saying "I hate you, i hate exercise, and i hate coming here" when my trainer asked me why i was in such a good mood.
I hope he realised i was just joking.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Checking in
This blog has become quite the European Vacation meets Whinge Festival 2010 lately.
Here's what else has been happening regarding jogging:
Not much.
Walking at least?
yes.
Friday: 3.5km
Sunday: 3.6km
Monday: 5.5km.
with little bursts of running in between.
And i did see the Melbourne Marathon runners on Sunday morning so that is ALMOST the same as doing the actual run.
Remember wayyyyy back in January that was my goal? To run the half marathon? I am pushing it back to 2011. I will be 30 then and that is a good enough reason for me.
I'm restless. I feel like making some big changes around here. I guess that is lucky because i have only 9 classes left. That is a big change in itself.
Here's what else has been happening regarding jogging:
Not much.
Walking at least?
yes.
Friday: 3.5km
Sunday: 3.6km
Monday: 5.5km.
with little bursts of running in between.
And i did see the Melbourne Marathon runners on Sunday morning so that is ALMOST the same as doing the actual run.
Remember wayyyyy back in January that was my goal? To run the half marathon? I am pushing it back to 2011. I will be 30 then and that is a good enough reason for me.
I'm restless. I feel like making some big changes around here. I guess that is lucky because i have only 9 classes left. That is a big change in itself.
Adding on Italy.
So...flights from Paris to Rome are ridiculously cheap. And my sister has a relative or some such who has offered us their Italian holiday home. When i read Eat Pray Love I flew to Rome and took these photos. I'm about to go and watch the movie.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Can i part with you for Paris?
This has become my mantra and gosh, has it been getting a work out the last few days.
I really need to stop spending money on nonsense and start saving for things like plane tickets to romantic European cities.
Resisting potential purchases by asking myself "Can i part with you for Paris?" has been quite effective.
A muffin with that coffee ? no thank you.
The entire Fluer Wood spring collection? oui oui i can part with you.
Can i part with a copy of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close? I sure can. That's what libraries are for.
What about those cute jeans in the window? okay...i guess
New nail polish? but i love nail polish....
And tickets to the Lemonheads in December? Well now you are just going too far.
You don't really need new water colour pencils do you? Not really but they are so pretty.
And you can live without buying that expensive organic fair trade coffee and just have instant, yes? I refuse to answer that on the basis that it will incriminate me.
But I have been very restrained with cafes and restaurants and have actually cooked about 10 times this week. Every time i bite into another cheese and avocado sandwich i just remember how sweet the croissants with be on the banks of the Seine.
I really need to stop spending money on nonsense and start saving for things like plane tickets to romantic European cities.
Resisting potential purchases by asking myself "Can i part with you for Paris?" has been quite effective.
A muffin with that coffee ? no thank you.
The entire Fluer Wood spring collection? oui oui i can part with you.
Can i part with a copy of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close? I sure can. That's what libraries are for.
What about those cute jeans in the window? okay...i guess
New nail polish? but i love nail polish....
And tickets to the Lemonheads in December? Well now you are just going too far.
You don't really need new water colour pencils do you? Not really but they are so pretty.
And you can live without buying that expensive organic fair trade coffee and just have instant, yes? I refuse to answer that on the basis that it will incriminate me.
But I have been very restrained with cafes and restaurants and have actually cooked about 10 times this week. Every time i bite into another cheese and avocado sandwich i just remember how sweet the croissants with be on the banks of the Seine.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Spring
You know how i know it is Spring? By looking in my handbag.
Contents include 3 pairs of sunglasses, hay fever tablets and an assortment of tram tickets (i keep accidently getting drunk in the sunshine and having to leave my car in inconvenient places.)
I like Spring. It is not as obviously seductive as Summer, nor as stand offish as Winter. I used to love Autumn but now it reminds me of weddings and death. nice. So Spring it is!
I started Spring cleaning my room today. Moving shoes around, rearranging visual diaries, considering chucking my 5000 books that occupy every single surface available. I got to the desk "area" (It does seem to spread itself out) and paused-is there really any need? I have 10 classes left, I write my essays in cafes and the desk top is quite handy for holding clothes, makeup and stray canvases. Maybe after two years of study, i can finally admit that i have terrible study habits. Even the desk chair was relegated to the sunroom after being assessed as useless to me about 6 months ago. I have two essays to write. Maybe i can just stick to the theme and enjoy writing them as i sip coffee and sniff flowers, instead of trying to contort into Madam Academic who has a clean desk and somewhere to sit.
Done.
Contents include 3 pairs of sunglasses, hay fever tablets and an assortment of tram tickets (i keep accidently getting drunk in the sunshine and having to leave my car in inconvenient places.)
I like Spring. It is not as obviously seductive as Summer, nor as stand offish as Winter. I used to love Autumn but now it reminds me of weddings and death. nice. So Spring it is!
I started Spring cleaning my room today. Moving shoes around, rearranging visual diaries, considering chucking my 5000 books that occupy every single surface available. I got to the desk "area" (It does seem to spread itself out) and paused-is there really any need? I have 10 classes left, I write my essays in cafes and the desk top is quite handy for holding clothes, makeup and stray canvases. Maybe after two years of study, i can finally admit that i have terrible study habits. Even the desk chair was relegated to the sunroom after being assessed as useless to me about 6 months ago. I have two essays to write. Maybe i can just stick to the theme and enjoy writing them as i sip coffee and sniff flowers, instead of trying to contort into Madam Academic who has a clean desk and somewhere to sit.
Done.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
David Bromley is selling his house and other local news.
Hi y'all.
I just went for a 6.5km walk/run/wander through the wonderful streets of St Kilda. I constantly whinge about how boring the suburbs are-all those tree lined streets and power walking mums-with-prams. Cafes on every available corner, the beach outside my front door, community gardens offering up mint and chickens and rabbits to pat. Gosh, what a shit place to live.
I think i get bored of this place because it's all so old hat to me. I have these spoilt brat blinkers on that prevent me from truly appreciating how lucky i am. But today i tried. I watched the roller coaster at Luna Park until i felt vicarious dizziness and even took my ipod out of my ears as i walked down Acland street. I sprinted through the gardens where i got married and held my breath as i walked past my ex husbands apartment (remember doing that as a kid when you walked past a cemetery? Or was that just me?) and I finally felt like It's a Pretty Beautiful Place to Live.
Also, my favourite artist is selling his house. His house which happens to have his murals covering the walls. This to me is like buying the skirt and the supermodel waist line. Does anyone have a spare 3.5 million i can have? You can totally come to stay whenever you like. I'll even buy you a coffee.
xxxx
I just went for a 6.5km walk/run/wander through the wonderful streets of St Kilda. I constantly whinge about how boring the suburbs are-all those tree lined streets and power walking mums-with-prams. Cafes on every available corner, the beach outside my front door, community gardens offering up mint and chickens and rabbits to pat. Gosh, what a shit place to live.
I think i get bored of this place because it's all so old hat to me. I have these spoilt brat blinkers on that prevent me from truly appreciating how lucky i am. But today i tried. I watched the roller coaster at Luna Park until i felt vicarious dizziness and even took my ipod out of my ears as i walked down Acland street. I sprinted through the gardens where i got married and held my breath as i walked past my ex husbands apartment (remember doing that as a kid when you walked past a cemetery? Or was that just me?) and I finally felt like It's a Pretty Beautiful Place to Live.
Also, my favourite artist is selling his house. His house which happens to have his murals covering the walls. This to me is like buying the skirt and the supermodel waist line. Does anyone have a spare 3.5 million i can have? You can totally come to stay whenever you like. I'll even buy you a coffee.
xxxx
Lets go to Paris before we get old and ugly.
This is what my sister just said to me down the phone. And I cannot think of a single reason why this is not the best idea I have ever heard.
I spent an afternoon in Paris last February. In transit from Amsterdam to London, it was less glamourous than one might imagine. I did drink coffee and eat cake as i waited for the Eurostar to arrive though, all the while promising myself i would be back one day to ride a moped to Notra Dame and doodle in my Moleskin for hours on end.
We have decided to go in the Spring time which coincides with my 30th birthday which coincides with my divorce being finalised which coincides with what a great time to get out of Melbourne and wear pretty dresses in the sunshine.
I am imagining we will live it up like these two femme fatales did when they visited one episode, i mean day:
Okay, okay, so we may not be 20 year old Teen Vogue interns, but sometimes, when Whitney has not had much sleep, i kinda look like her. If i pull my hair into a bun and squint while looking in the mirror.
The main point is, I love traveling, i love my sister and i cannot think of a better way to spend my birthday, n'est-ce pas?
I spent an afternoon in Paris last February. In transit from Amsterdam to London, it was less glamourous than one might imagine. I did drink coffee and eat cake as i waited for the Eurostar to arrive though, all the while promising myself i would be back one day to ride a moped to Notra Dame and doodle in my Moleskin for hours on end.
We have decided to go in the Spring time which coincides with my 30th birthday which coincides with my divorce being finalised which coincides with what a great time to get out of Melbourne and wear pretty dresses in the sunshine.
I am imagining we will live it up like these two femme fatales did when they visited one episode, i mean day:
Okay, okay, so we may not be 20 year old Teen Vogue interns, but sometimes, when Whitney has not had much sleep, i kinda look like her. If i pull my hair into a bun and squint while looking in the mirror.
The main point is, I love traveling, i love my sister and i cannot think of a better way to spend my birthday, n'est-ce pas?
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Closing night of whinge fest 2010
Good afternoon.
I have GOT to get out of this headspace i am currently occupying as i have an essay to write in the next few hours.
So here is the good news:
I love my new ipod. It is really pretty.
On Friday i walked 4km,
On Saturday i walked 4.5km
Sunday i didn't walk but i did work which is almost the same.
And today i have walked 2km and will go for another walk AFTER i have done my essay.
This is all good news.
I just slept for 12 hours after my weirdly emotional day yesterday. It seems like yesterday was a week ago.
I only have 12 more classes left. In my entire thing. I hope i learn some useful stuff.
That is all.
I have GOT to get out of this headspace i am currently occupying as i have an essay to write in the next few hours.
So here is the good news:
I love my new ipod. It is really pretty.
On Friday i walked 4km,
On Saturday i walked 4.5km
Sunday i didn't walk but i did work which is almost the same.
And today i have walked 2km and will go for another walk AFTER i have done my essay.
This is all good news.
I just slept for 12 hours after my weirdly emotional day yesterday. It seems like yesterday was a week ago.
I only have 12 more classes left. In my entire thing. I hope i learn some useful stuff.
That is all.
Sunday.
I found out today that your cousin passed away on Friday.
"I have some bad news" you said, looking me straight in the eye.
Like a punch to my stomach, i felt the news crash into my orbit.
Your eyes! The truth was in your eyes and for a split second i wondered when i had seen you look like that before....
Bad news? For you to call it bad, i knew it must be terrible. I knew what was coming. I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop since your mother died. Every time i speak to you, i feel like something awful is going to come out of your mouth. Some tragedy, some pain, some shocking, slapping reality check about the world being not-so-great-after-all. "She's dead, I'm leaving." What's next? When you call my phone more than once in a day i assume that you have an inoperable cancer and that you are phoning from the hospital, to blurt the news out in a rush of garbled sounds, no regard for the woman on the receiving end. My radar is set to Panic when it comes to you, my dear. I hear it in my head seconds before you say anything. You are always calling about your tax return or to ask what the cats date of birth is and i am bracing myself for a side swipe.
Not this time though.
Your family, is no longer my family. The ties of marriage have been severed, responsibility absolved. i will not be flying up to Sydney with you. i will not stand by your side during the funeral. i will not shake my head about a life so tragically cut short. I will not hold your hand through this one.
I just squeezed your arm and watched from a distance as grief warped your features (again.) I know it was hard for you to say the words. So sickeningly familiar.
Because it was suicide. And that makes me sick. It makes me cry and feel numb all at once. How much does one family have to withstand? Is it genetic? Why does this keep happening?
The last conversation i had with him was about karaoke. We drank beer and talked about your mother. Fuck.
I have no words. i have no answers. I have nothing to offer you in this. I am just sorry for you. I am sorry for his parents. I am sorry for his sister and his brother and your sister and your brother and everyone in the whole wide world who ever goes through this.
It challenges my world view. changes my ever evolving belief system. Bad things do happen to good people. This is life. And sometimes it is just fucking unfair.
"I have some bad news" you said, looking me straight in the eye.
Like a punch to my stomach, i felt the news crash into my orbit.
Your eyes! The truth was in your eyes and for a split second i wondered when i had seen you look like that before....
Bad news? For you to call it bad, i knew it must be terrible. I knew what was coming. I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop since your mother died. Every time i speak to you, i feel like something awful is going to come out of your mouth. Some tragedy, some pain, some shocking, slapping reality check about the world being not-so-great-after-all. "She's dead, I'm leaving." What's next? When you call my phone more than once in a day i assume that you have an inoperable cancer and that you are phoning from the hospital, to blurt the news out in a rush of garbled sounds, no regard for the woman on the receiving end. My radar is set to Panic when it comes to you, my dear. I hear it in my head seconds before you say anything. You are always calling about your tax return or to ask what the cats date of birth is and i am bracing myself for a side swipe.
Not this time though.
Your family, is no longer my family. The ties of marriage have been severed, responsibility absolved. i will not be flying up to Sydney with you. i will not stand by your side during the funeral. i will not shake my head about a life so tragically cut short. I will not hold your hand through this one.
I just squeezed your arm and watched from a distance as grief warped your features (again.) I know it was hard for you to say the words. So sickeningly familiar.
Because it was suicide. And that makes me sick. It makes me cry and feel numb all at once. How much does one family have to withstand? Is it genetic? Why does this keep happening?
The last conversation i had with him was about karaoke. We drank beer and talked about your mother. Fuck.
I have no words. i have no answers. I have nothing to offer you in this. I am just sorry for you. I am sorry for his parents. I am sorry for his sister and his brother and your sister and your brother and everyone in the whole wide world who ever goes through this.
It challenges my world view. changes my ever evolving belief system. Bad things do happen to good people. This is life. And sometimes it is just fucking unfair.
Friday, October 1, 2010
And late one night i thought of this
Real life is not life the movies, because in real life, people are not brave. In real life, people have scars and hurts and protect their hearts like age old secrets. Echo chambers of pain reverberating “not too close, not too close.”
One of the problems with love is that when you stand facing each other, you are actually looking in opposite directions.
One of the problems with love is that when you stand facing each other, you are actually looking in opposite directions.
To Do List.✓
Things to do on October 1st 2010:
Confirm appointment for tomorrow for eye lash extension (no i am not a stripper.) ✓
Talk with crazy old neighbour about mail ✓
Go to work, do very little actual work. ✓
Brush hair ✓
Walk in the sunshine ✓
Have a thousand inane conversations about the weather ✓
Continue to live in denial about having hay fever (it is a spring cold god damn it) ✓
Get dressed in a pretty dress
Go to a lovely friends home
drink red wine
Dance
Laugh
Fall asleep tired, but happy.
Pinch and a Punch to you. ☀♥♣
Confirm appointment for tomorrow for eye lash extension (no i am not a stripper.) ✓
Talk with crazy old neighbour about mail ✓
Go to work, do very little actual work. ✓
Brush hair ✓
Walk in the sunshine ✓
Have a thousand inane conversations about the weather ✓
Continue to live in denial about having hay fever (it is a spring cold god damn it) ✓
Get dressed in a pretty dress
Go to a lovely friends home
drink red wine
Dance
Laugh
Fall asleep tired, but happy.
Pinch and a Punch to you. ☀♥♣
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Walterwalterwalterwalter
walter. wal. ter. w.alter.
This is the name of the man who has my story in his hot little hands. Or lap top. At the very least, he has it on his iphone. And I for one, cannot stop thinking about it. I am more excited about this, than i was about my wedding day. I'm not kidding! Although, in light of the last 7 months, that is probably not the greatest testimony to my enthusiasm, but trust me dear readers, i am butterflies-in-my-stomach excited that the ball is rolling on this area of my life. Ahhhh my life.
Lately it has consisted of work, gym, writing, not doing homework, watching my friends band, seeing friends, eating delicious meals and hanging out with a cute boy whilst playing Cluedo.
There has not been much running in there. And when i say not much, i mean none. Just to be clear. I have lost momentum. I know why too-I had a weirdly mixed up, emotional weekend. It was my mother in laws birthday and i struggled between wanting to put some flowers where her ashes are and having angry, angry conversations about her death with my most trusted confidants. It is a year and 7 months since she died and i am still pissed off.
It is 19 months and 4 days since i last heard her voice in real life and i can still hear the ringing in my ears. When does this end?
The further i move away from grief the more irritating it is when it puts in an appearance. Stupid grief. Go back where you came from.
However.
Feeling so crappy gives me the opportunity to appreciate the lovely people I have in my world. And to thank my lucky stars i have such incredible people to hold my hand, hug me tight and wipe my snot away (I am a messy crier.)
So although "Happy Birthday" is out of the question: I miss you, I love you, and I thought of you all day on Saturday. I know you were not happy towards the end of your life and I am so sorry for that because the sun is shining, Summer is coming, and the world is truly a beautiful, beautiful place. xxxx
Happy Tuesday everyone.
This is the name of the man who has my story in his hot little hands. Or lap top. At the very least, he has it on his iphone. And I for one, cannot stop thinking about it. I am more excited about this, than i was about my wedding day. I'm not kidding! Although, in light of the last 7 months, that is probably not the greatest testimony to my enthusiasm, but trust me dear readers, i am butterflies-in-my-stomach excited that the ball is rolling on this area of my life. Ahhhh my life.
Lately it has consisted of work, gym, writing, not doing homework, watching my friends band, seeing friends, eating delicious meals and hanging out with a cute boy whilst playing Cluedo.
There has not been much running in there. And when i say not much, i mean none. Just to be clear. I have lost momentum. I know why too-I had a weirdly mixed up, emotional weekend. It was my mother in laws birthday and i struggled between wanting to put some flowers where her ashes are and having angry, angry conversations about her death with my most trusted confidants. It is a year and 7 months since she died and i am still pissed off.
It is 19 months and 4 days since i last heard her voice in real life and i can still hear the ringing in my ears. When does this end?
The further i move away from grief the more irritating it is when it puts in an appearance. Stupid grief. Go back where you came from.
However.
Feeling so crappy gives me the opportunity to appreciate the lovely people I have in my world. And to thank my lucky stars i have such incredible people to hold my hand, hug me tight and wipe my snot away (I am a messy crier.)
So although "Happy Birthday" is out of the question: I miss you, I love you, and I thought of you all day on Saturday. I know you were not happy towards the end of your life and I am so sorry for that because the sun is shining, Summer is coming, and the world is truly a beautiful, beautiful place. xxxx
Happy Tuesday everyone.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
comment
I have discovered this "Stats" button on this very blog. It tells you how many people have read your post that day. I want to know who you people! If you have time, please leave a comment. i'd like to know your favourite song, what you had for breakfast and what you can see out your bedroom window. Do it!!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
School holidays and cold finger tips
Hooray for school holidays!
Come a little closer, i have a secret to tell you....after these holidays i only have one term of school left. A very small term of about 4 or five weeks. Do you know what this means my friends? YESSSSSSS i will no longer be a student!!
This means:
1. wednesday, thursday and saturdays will be mine! All mine! For strolls in the parks and breakfasts at noon and french lessons with friends, scrolls by the river side, cocktails on a friday night and rediscovering week night tv.
2. No more driving to no mans land three times a week.
3. I can work more, earn more, buy more stuff i don't need.
SO EXCITING!!!!
I love studying and learning but by GOD these last two years have been rough. Death, divorce, moving, changing jobs-for crying out loud, no wonder i am tired! It has been the hardest two years of my life BY FAR but i have done it! (almost.) It's amazing. I feel light headed with shock that i am still here, still standing and with another little feather in my bow. or hat. or whatever that saying is.
okay i need to go have a little sleep now.
Come a little closer, i have a secret to tell you....after these holidays i only have one term of school left. A very small term of about 4 or five weeks. Do you know what this means my friends? YESSSSSSS i will no longer be a student!!
This means:
1. wednesday, thursday and saturdays will be mine! All mine! For strolls in the parks and breakfasts at noon and french lessons with friends, scrolls by the river side, cocktails on a friday night and rediscovering week night tv.
2. No more driving to no mans land three times a week.
3. I can work more, earn more, buy more stuff i don't need.
SO EXCITING!!!!
I love studying and learning but by GOD these last two years have been rough. Death, divorce, moving, changing jobs-for crying out loud, no wonder i am tired! It has been the hardest two years of my life BY FAR but i have done it! (almost.) It's amazing. I feel light headed with shock that i am still here, still standing and with another little feather in my bow. or hat. or whatever that saying is.
okay i need to go have a little sleep now.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Thursday
Well.
I have found a way to combine the things that are not good for me with the things that ARE good for me. No, no, no, i am not talking about watching The Hills whilst on a treadmill or dating a psychologist. (yes dating is bad for me)
I'm talking about accepting the fact that i will drink coffee everyday. Then using this as an incentive to get some exercise. So, for the last couple of days i have been walking to the coffee shop. Big deal? Well yes it is, depending on which cafe i decide to go to. Yesterday i walked through the St Kilda Botanic Gardens which are SO beautiful. Then on to Acland St for a latte. In total: 5.5km.
Today I was less ambitious and just walked to this cafe i used to go to every day. Total: 2.5km.
I have stopped walking on the beach since that lady got attacked a few days ago. I cannot imagine anything more horrifying. It's been nice to reacquaint myself with the suburban streets i live amongst.
Oh, and i also bought a magazine. a HEALTH magazine. AND i finally submitted my short story to a competition. I then spent the next hour reading the winning entries from previous years and feeling very scared indeed of it being successful. Heart, sleeve etc etc.
I have found a way to combine the things that are not good for me with the things that ARE good for me. No, no, no, i am not talking about watching The Hills whilst on a treadmill or dating a psychologist. (yes dating is bad for me)
I'm talking about accepting the fact that i will drink coffee everyday. Then using this as an incentive to get some exercise. So, for the last couple of days i have been walking to the coffee shop. Big deal? Well yes it is, depending on which cafe i decide to go to. Yesterday i walked through the St Kilda Botanic Gardens which are SO beautiful. Then on to Acland St for a latte. In total: 5.5km.
Today I was less ambitious and just walked to this cafe i used to go to every day. Total: 2.5km.
I have stopped walking on the beach since that lady got attacked a few days ago. I cannot imagine anything more horrifying. It's been nice to reacquaint myself with the suburban streets i live amongst.
Oh, and i also bought a magazine. a HEALTH magazine. AND i finally submitted my short story to a competition. I then spent the next hour reading the winning entries from previous years and feeling very scared indeed of it being successful. Heart, sleeve etc etc.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The good, the bad and the really really pretty.
Hello Blogland friends,
This post comes to you courtesy of my very sore fingers. Why are they sore, you may very well ask? Because last night i did boxing and i punched so hard that the blood vessels between my fingers have burst. Not it a totally gross way, more like in a tiny love bite between the fingers way.
So. The good news is that on Monday i went for a 3km walk and on Tuesday I spent an hour at the gym. This included:
1. Running 2km in approx 9 minutes.
2. Boxing
3. Doing some weird stuff to a massive ball and putting my feet in some hanging rings.
4. Revisting my worst ever exercise-a horrendous murderous thing called a Burpee. Stupid name, total bitch of a movement.
5. Pretending to stretch but really talking about french films.
The bad news is this:
My Quit Coffee Campaign lasted 48 hours. The problem is:
1. I had a MASSIVE withdrawal headache
2. I completely lack will power
3. I became nostalgic for coffee dates with my friends
4. Coffee breaks at work are BORING without coffee.
5. I just really really like it okay?
I am drinking much more water though and this morning i even visited Coles supermarket to buy fresh food to *gasp* cook. No more lounging about in restaurants for me. No siree bob.
Oh and the pretty? The pretty is everywhere at the moment. Spring is my favourite time of year (well equal first with Summer, Autumn and Winter.)
Check out some of my favourite spring things.
This type of Blossom.
This type of Blossom? Not so much.
.jpg)
We all know how i feel about dresses by Fleur Wood.
hanging out with these guys at the Collingwood Children's Farm
Going to see my friend as part of this.
ahhh...i love Spring.
This post comes to you courtesy of my very sore fingers. Why are they sore, you may very well ask? Because last night i did boxing and i punched so hard that the blood vessels between my fingers have burst. Not it a totally gross way, more like in a tiny love bite between the fingers way.
So. The good news is that on Monday i went for a 3km walk and on Tuesday I spent an hour at the gym. This included:
1. Running 2km in approx 9 minutes.
2. Boxing
3. Doing some weird stuff to a massive ball and putting my feet in some hanging rings.
4. Revisting my worst ever exercise-a horrendous murderous thing called a Burpee. Stupid name, total bitch of a movement.
5. Pretending to stretch but really talking about french films.
The bad news is this:
My Quit Coffee Campaign lasted 48 hours. The problem is:
1. I had a MASSIVE withdrawal headache
2. I completely lack will power
3. I became nostalgic for coffee dates with my friends
4. Coffee breaks at work are BORING without coffee.
5. I just really really like it okay?
I am drinking much more water though and this morning i even visited Coles supermarket to buy fresh food to *gasp* cook. No more lounging about in restaurants for me. No siree bob.
Oh and the pretty? The pretty is everywhere at the moment. Spring is my favourite time of year (well equal first with Summer, Autumn and Winter.)
Check out some of my favourite spring things.
This type of Blossom.
This type of Blossom? Not so much.
.jpg)
We all know how i feel about dresses by Fleur Wood.
hanging out with these guys at the Collingwood Children's Farm
Going to see my friend as part of this.
ahhh...i love Spring.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
coffee and other addictions.
hola.
Part one:
So. I am giving up coffee. This is why:
1. I am addicted to it and i hate being addicted to anything. Free will exists for a reason. or something.
2. My friend Kate is doing a mega detox and if she can kick alcohol, sugar and all things lovely, then surely i can give up coffee.
3. it is expensive. i spend at least $25 a week on the stuff. that is ridiculous. The problem is i only drink organic coffee (because i am a wanker) and it has to be fair trade (again, wanker) and it also has to be quite large.
4. I didn't feel like one this morning so it seems like a good place to start.
Part two;
I have a new resolve to become a better individual in general. This includes doing all my essays in a timely fashion, working hard at work, exercising every single day, documenting said exercise in this blog so as to remain accountable, drinking 3 times more water than i usually drink, not leaving washing in the washing machine for a week, eating things other than the things cooked in restaurants and getting more organised in general.
Part three: a sample from a short story i am submitting to be published. It is called Blueprint.
As time goes on, Girl starts writing her own stories, one by one, until the day, when she is
no longer a girl, she meets a man. He has green eyes and is quick to smile at almost
anything. They talk endlessly about love and life, truth and beauty.
He asks if he can give her his phone number.
And of course there is nothing to write it on, and of course he pulls a copy of Love in the
Time of Cholera from his back pack and of course he tears out the last page, scribbles in
lilac pen and holds it out to her.
And she has already read this story and reread it and reread it and even though she knows
all about how it ends, the grief, the pain, the romance, the misery, she still takes the page
and tucks it up her sleeve. There’s no room for will she won’t she second guesses. She
kisses him.
Years later, the man finds a piece of paper in the back pocket of some old
jeans. The creases are soft from so much folding, the ink a faded purple. Right
there, right underneath a series of numbers is a jumble of words, a
mishmash of letters. He holds it up into the sunlight to see if he can
make out what it says. Somewhere in there he reads “regret” and the word
“sorry” repeated again and again. Then side by side, in a perfect line he finally
finds the words he has been looking for.
Part four:
I really want a coffee.
Part one:
So. I am giving up coffee. This is why:
1. I am addicted to it and i hate being addicted to anything. Free will exists for a reason. or something.
2. My friend Kate is doing a mega detox and if she can kick alcohol, sugar and all things lovely, then surely i can give up coffee.
3. it is expensive. i spend at least $25 a week on the stuff. that is ridiculous. The problem is i only drink organic coffee (because i am a wanker) and it has to be fair trade (again, wanker) and it also has to be quite large.
4. I didn't feel like one this morning so it seems like a good place to start.
Part two;
I have a new resolve to become a better individual in general. This includes doing all my essays in a timely fashion, working hard at work, exercising every single day, documenting said exercise in this blog so as to remain accountable, drinking 3 times more water than i usually drink, not leaving washing in the washing machine for a week, eating things other than the things cooked in restaurants and getting more organised in general.
Part three: a sample from a short story i am submitting to be published. It is called Blueprint.
As time goes on, Girl starts writing her own stories, one by one, until the day, when she is
no longer a girl, she meets a man. He has green eyes and is quick to smile at almost
anything. They talk endlessly about love and life, truth and beauty.
He asks if he can give her his phone number.
And of course there is nothing to write it on, and of course he pulls a copy of Love in the
Time of Cholera from his back pack and of course he tears out the last page, scribbles in
lilac pen and holds it out to her.
And she has already read this story and reread it and reread it and even though she knows
all about how it ends, the grief, the pain, the romance, the misery, she still takes the page
and tucks it up her sleeve. There’s no room for will she won’t she second guesses. She
kisses him.
Years later, the man finds a piece of paper in the back pocket of some old
jeans. The creases are soft from so much folding, the ink a faded purple. Right
there, right underneath a series of numbers is a jumble of words, a
mishmash of letters. He holds it up into the sunlight to see if he can
make out what it says. Somewhere in there he reads “regret” and the word
“sorry” repeated again and again. Then side by side, in a perfect line he finally
finds the words he has been looking for.
Part four:
I really want a coffee.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
What i think about, when i think about running.
For me, running is not just about the physical action of putting one foot in front of the other. It is more than the breathlessness, the pounding of sneakers on concrete. More complex than the wind on my face, a song in my ear.
Running for me is about proving to myself that i can do it. When my legs are screaming "noooo!!!" and my heart is pounding out of my chest, my brain is quiet except for a few words whispering out in time with my feet. you. can. do. it. just. keep. going. stop. thinking. keep. going.
I mean, that's like life isn't it? We get so distracted with the future, the past, the possibilities, the consequences. So busy in fact that we forget about the right here and right now. About putting one foot in front of the other. We worry that we better conserve energy, fret over the fact that in five minutes we might be too tired to keep going. But what about right now? Right this second? Well, that's a different story.
Eight months ago today, i went for my first run. I wanted to be able to run five K's by March. Instead, my marriage broke up, i moved house, started personal training, started dating someone really amazing, doubted myself, cut my hair, hugged my cat goodbye, wrote short stories, met celebrities, ignored the pain in my heel, read a million books and got HD's for every single essay i wrote.
And now? I am still putting one foot in front of the other...but there is a definite spring in my step.
Happy Wednesday.
Running for me is about proving to myself that i can do it. When my legs are screaming "noooo!!!" and my heart is pounding out of my chest, my brain is quiet except for a few words whispering out in time with my feet. you. can. do. it. just. keep. going. stop. thinking. keep. going.
I mean, that's like life isn't it? We get so distracted with the future, the past, the possibilities, the consequences. So busy in fact that we forget about the right here and right now. About putting one foot in front of the other. We worry that we better conserve energy, fret over the fact that in five minutes we might be too tired to keep going. But what about right now? Right this second? Well, that's a different story.
Eight months ago today, i went for my first run. I wanted to be able to run five K's by March. Instead, my marriage broke up, i moved house, started personal training, started dating someone really amazing, doubted myself, cut my hair, hugged my cat goodbye, wrote short stories, met celebrities, ignored the pain in my heel, read a million books and got HD's for every single essay i wrote.
And now? I am still putting one foot in front of the other...but there is a definite spring in my step.
Happy Wednesday.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Lust
It's all about running (kinda.)
I am lusting after the following stunning items. It's a problem considering i am broke but i am optimistic about a future in which i stick to a budget and therefore can afford beautiful items like the following.
Since my Ipod got stolen out of my car a couple of weeks ago, i have been dreaming of replacing it with one of these babies. I would like to make a promise to the universe that if i am allowed to have nice things, i will be much more careful with them.
I love this dress. Always have, always will. Fleur Wood is like a fairy princess who makes pretty dress dreams come true.
Two tone hair. I used to be able to go to the hairdresser every 8 weeks. She would trim and treat while i sat in a massage chair with a heat pack or glass of wine. Now i use a $12 DIY packet whenever i get around to it. i miss having nice hair. When i finish school and start earning money, a hair cut is the first thing on my list.
cute huh? Imagine how fast i could run in these!!!
I am lusting after the following stunning items. It's a problem considering i am broke but i am optimistic about a future in which i stick to a budget and therefore can afford beautiful items like the following.
Since my Ipod got stolen out of my car a couple of weeks ago, i have been dreaming of replacing it with one of these babies. I would like to make a promise to the universe that if i am allowed to have nice things, i will be much more careful with them.
I love this dress. Always have, always will. Fleur Wood is like a fairy princess who makes pretty dress dreams come true.
Two tone hair. I used to be able to go to the hairdresser every 8 weeks. She would trim and treat while i sat in a massage chair with a heat pack or glass of wine. Now i use a $12 DIY packet whenever i get around to it. i miss having nice hair. When i finish school and start earning money, a hair cut is the first thing on my list.
cute huh? Imagine how fast i could run in these!!!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Paintbrushes, running and the first day of Spring.
Well hello there dear reader(s)
I've just had a particularly good session with a client-despite the fact i forgot to take paint, paintbrushes or any drawing implements to an art therapy session. Thank goodness my car is FULL of crap such as beads, wire, PVA and felt. What sort of an art therapist forgets to take paint? This kind i tells ya.
Anyway, my client was talking about how she has "landed in her body." i love that idea. That her body was waiting or her all along and suddenly, through a series of art, exercise, extensive counselling and reflection, she finally feels present; awake, aware.
I often have times where i feel myself slipping into the ether of anxiety, busyness (not to be confused with business....), or simply behaviours that fall under the very broad umbrella of Not Being True To Myself. Those times where my inner voice is drowned out by fears or denial or, often, being too tired to listen. My heart flies off into the universe and i have to search my pockets for the tiny piece of thread that anchors it to my body. Then it's just a matter of tugging and twisting until it finds it's way back where it it belongs.
It's hard to get there sometimes though. It's hard to always do the right thing for yourself. Especially when being true to ourself lives inside a can of worm which you may or may not want to open. But at the end of the day, i am brave enough to say no. I am brave enough to disappoint, put my hand up and ask for help. I am brave enough to honor myself and look inside my little soul with the quiet question of "what is it that you really want?" The answer is not always easy to find and often even harder to achieve.
But as my client sat there today, talking about landing back in her body, I couldn't help but think that for all our differences, for every single experience that is miles away from my own, we are one and the same.
I've just had a particularly good session with a client-despite the fact i forgot to take paint, paintbrushes or any drawing implements to an art therapy session. Thank goodness my car is FULL of crap such as beads, wire, PVA and felt. What sort of an art therapist forgets to take paint? This kind i tells ya.
Anyway, my client was talking about how she has "landed in her body." i love that idea. That her body was waiting or her all along and suddenly, through a series of art, exercise, extensive counselling and reflection, she finally feels present; awake, aware.
I often have times where i feel myself slipping into the ether of anxiety, busyness (not to be confused with business....), or simply behaviours that fall under the very broad umbrella of Not Being True To Myself. Those times where my inner voice is drowned out by fears or denial or, often, being too tired to listen. My heart flies off into the universe and i have to search my pockets for the tiny piece of thread that anchors it to my body. Then it's just a matter of tugging and twisting until it finds it's way back where it it belongs.
It's hard to get there sometimes though. It's hard to always do the right thing for yourself. Especially when being true to ourself lives inside a can of worm which you may or may not want to open. But at the end of the day, i am brave enough to say no. I am brave enough to disappoint, put my hand up and ask for help. I am brave enough to honor myself and look inside my little soul with the quiet question of "what is it that you really want?" The answer is not always easy to find and often even harder to achieve.
But as my client sat there today, talking about landing back in her body, I couldn't help but think that for all our differences, for every single experience that is miles away from my own, we are one and the same.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Hearts Memory and The Absolute Truth.
So that's the name for the short story.
I like it. It's a comment on the he says, she says nature of perspective when it comes to relationships. I mean, there is always your truth then the other persons truth then somewhere in between that is the absolute truth (which does not really exist except when saying "the only absolute truth is that there is no absolute truth" which is just a contradiction really now isn't it?)
Anyway, i like it because of the reference to Love In The Time Of Cholera. And i like the length of it. I think it is intriguing. I would read a story called that. Yes.
In running related news:
My ipod was STOLEN and along with it, my much loved jogging playlist. The good news is, i can now buy a better ipod AND create an even better playlist full of Beyonce, Rihanna and you know what else? Some songs from the Lion King. I know, i know...it seems lame. But someone put it on at the gym the other night and it was surprisingly uplifting. Not as surprising as the amount of videos people have put on you tube from the Lion King but still. Who would have thunk it?
Talking about the gym, i better put my runners on.
Happy Tuesday!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Don't run with chewing gum in your mouth.
Last night at the gym i ran on 14. i know out of context, this number means nothing to most people. But let me tell you, it is fast. it's almost a sprint i would say. As soon as we started i knocked off a kilometer and a half on the treadmill before doing evil things to my abs. Then i got back on and went again and for some stupid reason i was all like "make it REALLY fast" to my trainer.THEN I spent some time looking in the mirror and wondering why my face was so red while he asked me if i was going to faint. (I didn't. I am more of a spewer than a fainter.)
Last week felt quite out of control. Like the universe teamed up with mother nature to whip me around in a merciless game of Past and Present Collide to Remind You That Life is whatever that word is that means fluid and changeable and ever evolving. But i am back in the drivers seat. My house is a mess, my hair needs cutting, my life needs minor repairs but at least i am holding the steering wheel again. Thank goodness for running and painting and coffee.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Working title.
So my friends, the time has come for me to submit this short story i have been working on.
The thing is, i really need a title for it. A good friend suggested "Ground Up" as a triple entendre reflecting the themes of death, pain and rebuilding, but i think perhaps it's a little heavy. I have been using "Girl Meets Boy" as the document name and i wonder if i should just stick with that.
Although the story is heavy in parts, it also has elements of whimsy and magic so i'd like to come up with something that encompasses all of that. I also thought about giving it a really long title like "That time she started getting mysterious letters delivered to her but she didn't know where they were coming from" but it might not print well.
The story is about a series of letters so maybe that's what i need to focus on. hmmmm. Maybe i can just call it "Love letters." Too girly? Too annoying? sounds too much like The Notebook for my liking.
What about "How To Write A Love Story."
hmmm.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Bret Easton Ellis
He is so cool. Even his first name is cool. Bret. Only one t! You were born cool Bret. You really, really were.
I met him last night. He talked about doing blow off the hood of a Ferarri (fictional) and a bar (non fiction.) He talked about "the process" which apparently does not exist except for the fact that when you are a writer, you cannot help but write. He talked about influences, obscure authors i had never heard of, bitchy interviewers, grinder, Delta Goodrum. I LOVE him.
And afterwards, I touched his shoulder and tried not to propose.
I met him last night. He talked about doing blow off the hood of a Ferarri (fictional) and a bar (non fiction.) He talked about "the process" which apparently does not exist except for the fact that when you are a writer, you cannot help but write. He talked about influences, obscure authors i had never heard of, bitchy interviewers, grinder, Delta Goodrum. I LOVE him.
And afterwards, I touched his shoulder and tried not to propose.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Stress Less Princess.
I used to work with young people-young women mostly at one stage of my "career." (yes, i am still in denial that i have one)
Anyway, there was this group to help young women deal with stress and the participants called it "Stress Less Princess." I love that even though most of these kids were facing seemingly insummountable challenges in their lives, they could break it down to something so simple.
I'm taking a leaf out of their book.
Anyway, there was this group to help young women deal with stress and the participants called it "Stress Less Princess." I love that even though most of these kids were facing seemingly insummountable challenges in their lives, they could break it down to something so simple.
I'm taking a leaf out of their book.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
I guess it comes down to making a choice.
Life is full of choices. This is not the first time i have written about this. I feel change is on my horizon. I have a choice to make; I can live the rest of my life clinging to the shards and fragments of my former life. I can keep myself warm with guilt and responsibility. I can hide in denial, use the phrase I Will Never Forgive Myself to keep the pain of loss somewhere in check.
Or.
I can pack all her stuff into a box and give it to my ex husband. I can place it on his lap and say "This is not mine to carry anymore." I can let go of carrying his grief for him. I can smile at strangers and make peace with the fact that she is gone, that he is gone.
I can choose happiness and change. I can choose a life filled with possibility and positivity, laughter and love. I can start living the life she never knew how to live and the life that i hope he someday will. Yes it's sad that she died, it will never not be sad, but this grief CANNOT eclipse my life anymore. Her death and our divorce is so tangled up in my head, like a two for the price of one trauma sale. But i am letting it go.
Our divorce is not my failure. Her death was not my fault. I am only in charge of my own choices.
This is what i choose for myself, right here, right now.
I choose hope.
Or.
I can pack all her stuff into a box and give it to my ex husband. I can place it on his lap and say "This is not mine to carry anymore." I can let go of carrying his grief for him. I can smile at strangers and make peace with the fact that she is gone, that he is gone.
I can choose happiness and change. I can choose a life filled with possibility and positivity, laughter and love. I can start living the life she never knew how to live and the life that i hope he someday will. Yes it's sad that she died, it will never not be sad, but this grief CANNOT eclipse my life anymore. Her death and our divorce is so tangled up in my head, like a two for the price of one trauma sale. But i am letting it go.
Our divorce is not my failure. Her death was not my fault. I am only in charge of my own choices.
This is what i choose for myself, right here, right now.
I choose hope.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Times i am really glad that i am no longer married.
1. When i blow dry my hair. My engagement ring used to heat up and burn my finger and now it does not. Because it lives in a drawer.
2. When my ex husband calls me and tells me he is moving in with his sister. Starting to think that perhaps he is a little bit stranger than i may have realised.
3. When i kiss a cute boy on the couch and he runs his fingers through my hair and i think holy fuck, it has been a long time since anyone looked at me like that.
4. When someone at work comes up to me in the kitchen and says "Oh, so you're the art therapist i keep hearing about...." (the fact that i was washing paint brushes in the sink was the give away) and i think "Yeah. I guess I am." Because in all the grief and loss and divorce and misery of the last year and a half, somewhere in the background, i have been working hard to get a new career off the ground. And it happened. And i would not have done it if i had not had the time and space of Not Being Married.
2. When my ex husband calls me and tells me he is moving in with his sister. Starting to think that perhaps he is a little bit stranger than i may have realised.
3. When i kiss a cute boy on the couch and he runs his fingers through my hair and i think holy fuck, it has been a long time since anyone looked at me like that.
4. When someone at work comes up to me in the kitchen and says "Oh, so you're the art therapist i keep hearing about...." (the fact that i was washing paint brushes in the sink was the give away) and i think "Yeah. I guess I am." Because in all the grief and loss and divorce and misery of the last year and a half, somewhere in the background, i have been working hard to get a new career off the ground. And it happened. And i would not have done it if i had not had the time and space of Not Being Married.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Don't think, just run.
I love running. I really, really LOVE it.
Last night at the gym i ran for ages on the treadmill. Level 8 is like a jog, 9 is fun, 10 is challenging and 11 is where i would like to live if a state of mind was a tangible place. It's the breathlessness, the pain, the rhythm. I really love it. And guess what? My ankle is totally fine. It gets a bit stiff and achy now and then but i don't even care.
In other news, i have made a to do list that is 19 bullet points long. This is all in the spirit of Getting On With My Life and Closing The Door On Past Chapters. Better go get started.
xxxx
Last night at the gym i ran for ages on the treadmill. Level 8 is like a jog, 9 is fun, 10 is challenging and 11 is where i would like to live if a state of mind was a tangible place. It's the breathlessness, the pain, the rhythm. I really love it. And guess what? My ankle is totally fine. It gets a bit stiff and achy now and then but i don't even care.
In other news, i have made a to do list that is 19 bullet points long. This is all in the spirit of Getting On With My Life and Closing The Door On Past Chapters. Better go get started.
xxxx
Sunday, August 1, 2010
One of the problems
I guess one of the main problems is that for me, romantic relationships now come with this overall feeling of responsibility and tongue biting self sacrifice. Relationship. Ugh. Makes me feel cagey and trapped and like i need to step outside of myself to stay sane. Even typing this is encouraging a hot, prickly rash to crawl its way up the back of my neck and making my digestive system clench itself up, inch by inch until my throat's closed over the lump that has been sitting there for a year and a half.
I am 29 years old and I am scared to death of ever letting anyone into my heart again.
I am 29 years old and I am scared to death of ever letting anyone into my heart again.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Updates
Yo.
So a note on my last post-my pyjama pants are actually navy blue velour. They could have almost passed as regular pants however i became paranoid about stepping on the hems and tucked the bottoms into my Converse high tops. As you can imagine, this created a subtle statement about my frame of mind at the time. It was the most boring class on the face of the universe though, so i am really glad i didn't dress up for it.
Guess what? I finished one out of my two very overdue essays. AND i went to the gym tonight. AND i knocked 6 seconds off my rowing all time greatest record time. AND i barely rolled my eyes at anyone at work today AND i had very few murderous thoughts about customers.
Maybe i am slowing getting my shit together? Can this really be happening?
So a note on my last post-my pyjama pants are actually navy blue velour. They could have almost passed as regular pants however i became paranoid about stepping on the hems and tucked the bottoms into my Converse high tops. As you can imagine, this created a subtle statement about my frame of mind at the time. It was the most boring class on the face of the universe though, so i am really glad i didn't dress up for it.
Guess what? I finished one out of my two very overdue essays. AND i went to the gym tonight. AND i knocked 6 seconds off my rowing all time greatest record time. AND i barely rolled my eyes at anyone at work today AND i had very few murderous thoughts about customers.
Maybe i am slowing getting my shit together? Can this really be happening?
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Is it okay to wear pyjama pants to class?
Hi,
I am toying with the notion of blurring boundaries. I have had so many different versions of myself in my lifetime-worker, daughter, wife, friend, girlfriend, sister, best friend, babysitter, aunty etc and i am a bit over the contortion. I just want the one version of myself to live in every aspect of my life. To be all these things at the same time.
I just want to be me. And i am wearing pyjamas to school tonight. If people find me strange, that is their gig, not mine. I have so little time to myself these days and the thought of pulling on jeans is just too much to deal with today. I'm tired, inspired, excited about life and i am someone who wants to wear pyjamas as regular pants. Good.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
And it goes on and on and on and on
I've been reading my old blog lately. The one I made private some time last year. It was so RAW. It was real and confronting and it makes me physically pained to read it. I wish i could just scoop myself up and hug that poor poor girl who was lost in a sea of grief. Oh the waves, the rain, the sharks lurking just beneath the surface. Poor girl. But you know what? She kept swimming and as well as hugging her i want to thank her. She was that tiny seed that grew into who i am today. I just wanted to share this post from this time a year ago:
"You smugly congratulate youself for being SO good at grief. Look at me everyone, pretty sure i am in stage 7 already...aren't i strong? Look! i can talk about it without crying. I don't flinch when someone complains about their mother in law. i can even manage a smile when people talk about mothers day. And then.....then it jumps up and slaps the smug right off your face."
I will never forget the grief that held me hostage for a good part of a year. I will never forget the man i lost to that grief. I will never forget what i learnt about my friends and my family during that time. And i will never forget what i learnt about myself in those dark, dark days. I will never forget how it was my own private indulgence, a secret lover who i would visit late at night. It would steal my sleep, my smile, curl it's fist through my heart and wrap itself around my head. I will never forget you and all the things you revealed to me but it's time for us to break up, grief. Take your friends Remorse and Guilt and get the fuck out of my life.
Goodbye grief you suffocating, debilitating, fickle, awful bastard of a thing. I hope i never, ever, ever see your face again.
"You smugly congratulate youself for being SO good at grief. Look at me everyone, pretty sure i am in stage 7 already...aren't i strong? Look! i can talk about it without crying. I don't flinch when someone complains about their mother in law. i can even manage a smile when people talk about mothers day. And then.....then it jumps up and slaps the smug right off your face."
I will never forget the grief that held me hostage for a good part of a year. I will never forget the man i lost to that grief. I will never forget what i learnt about my friends and my family during that time. And i will never forget what i learnt about myself in those dark, dark days. I will never forget how it was my own private indulgence, a secret lover who i would visit late at night. It would steal my sleep, my smile, curl it's fist through my heart and wrap itself around my head. I will never forget you and all the things you revealed to me but it's time for us to break up, grief. Take your friends Remorse and Guilt and get the fuck out of my life.
Goodbye grief you suffocating, debilitating, fickle, awful bastard of a thing. I hope i never, ever, ever see your face again.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
That time i realised that one day, i will have to get a job.
So today is my first day of semester two in my FINAL year of study. You know what this means right? Yep, i need to start thinking seriously about next year and beyond-more specifically WTF i am going to do in terms of a career. I've had lots of jobs in my lifetime. Some i was AWFUL at...like the time i worked in a furniture store and sold a grand total of nothing the entire time i was there. Some have been not so bad-i ran a fairly successful education site in a job that i was under qualified in, completely unsupported during and fairly overwhelmed by the time i left but overall, i did a pretty good job.
The problem i guess is that the type of job i want doesn't actually exist. I think i just have to come to terms with the fact that it is going to take some networking, negotiation and lots and lots of work and enthusiasm to get this portion of my career off the ground. The other problem is that i secretly just want to write. If truth be told, that would be awesome. Hmmmm....actually....I am going to go and look up writing courses immediately. Maybe this is not my final semester after all!!
The problem i guess is that the type of job i want doesn't actually exist. I think i just have to come to terms with the fact that it is going to take some networking, negotiation and lots and lots of work and enthusiasm to get this portion of my career off the ground. The other problem is that i secretly just want to write. If truth be told, that would be awesome. Hmmmm....actually....I am going to go and look up writing courses immediately. Maybe this is not my final semester after all!!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Paint a cake. Bake a picture.
Winter has well and truly blown in. I stupidly wore a dress to an exhibition on Monday and shivered all the way from 10am to lunch time. brrrrr.
So the date was not a great success. As the great philosopher Scarlett Johansson once said; I'm Just Not That into Him. Meh, you win some, you lose some.
However, i am feeling frightfully positive about my life at the moment. I think it's got something to do with the fact hat i have been doing some work for an organisation and it has been GOOD and MEANINGFUL. My currrent job is great in the way that it leaves brain space for study but this is like a great big juicy oyster that i am sinking my teeth into. That sounded gross. I just meant it in the way that the world is my oyster. And my teeth are my intentions. And the juice is indicative of the substance.
Anyway, i feel good, even though it's cold.
xxx
So the date was not a great success. As the great philosopher Scarlett Johansson once said; I'm Just Not That into Him. Meh, you win some, you lose some.
However, i am feeling frightfully positive about my life at the moment. I think it's got something to do with the fact hat i have been doing some work for an organisation and it has been GOOD and MEANINGFUL. My currrent job is great in the way that it leaves brain space for study but this is like a great big juicy oyster that i am sinking my teeth into. That sounded gross. I just meant it in the way that the world is my oyster. And my teeth are my intentions. And the juice is indicative of the substance.
Anyway, i feel good, even though it's cold.
xxx
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Project: Get my shit together.
Hello world!!
i recently listed some goals on here and upon review, i have, gasp, actually done them!
Gym: I have gone every single time. How bizarre! I am getting stronger and maybe slightly fitter. It's hard to tell because i have had a cold for two weeks and usually feel a wonderful mix of nausea and detachment when i exert myself but my instincts tell me i am working harder and it's not hurting quite as much. And i went for a 4k walk today just for fun.
School: Glorious, glorious holidays! All essays are UP TO DATE. I cannot believe it. AND i got two back with wonderful big fat HDs written on them, along with comments like "An honest, sincere appraisal and reflection on the process, demonstrating a deep understanding of the principles." That particular essay was quite terrible so either my teacher smokes bongs while he marks my work or i am on to something.
Divorce: Have thought a bit about this one. I do feel like rushing through a divorce is quite reactive and not actually necessary. When the time comes, i will do it, but until then i don't think a piece of paper is going to make me feel any more divorced than i already feel.
Recording songs. Hmmmm. I've dropped the ball on this one a bit. BUT i have written a short story that i am in the process of polishing and that has been my creative focus for the last few weeks.
I think the other goal was something to do with not kissing inappropriate boys (still sort of working on this one....) On second thought, i don't think kissing inappropriate men is really a big problem. I think i just need to be more AWARE of the fact that i should not marry them.
happy wednesday
i recently listed some goals on here and upon review, i have, gasp, actually done them!
Gym: I have gone every single time. How bizarre! I am getting stronger and maybe slightly fitter. It's hard to tell because i have had a cold for two weeks and usually feel a wonderful mix of nausea and detachment when i exert myself but my instincts tell me i am working harder and it's not hurting quite as much. And i went for a 4k walk today just for fun.
School: Glorious, glorious holidays! All essays are UP TO DATE. I cannot believe it. AND i got two back with wonderful big fat HDs written on them, along with comments like "An honest, sincere appraisal and reflection on the process, demonstrating a deep understanding of the principles." That particular essay was quite terrible so either my teacher smokes bongs while he marks my work or i am on to something.
Divorce: Have thought a bit about this one. I do feel like rushing through a divorce is quite reactive and not actually necessary. When the time comes, i will do it, but until then i don't think a piece of paper is going to make me feel any more divorced than i already feel.
Recording songs. Hmmmm. I've dropped the ball on this one a bit. BUT i have written a short story that i am in the process of polishing and that has been my creative focus for the last few weeks.
I think the other goal was something to do with not kissing inappropriate boys (still sort of working on this one....) On second thought, i don't think kissing inappropriate men is really a big problem. I think i just need to be more AWARE of the fact that i should not marry them.
happy wednesday
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Happy birthday
Dear Ex husband.
Happy birthday to you. I hope you get everything you deserve. And i mean that. Really, i do.
from the artist formally knows as Wife.
Happy birthday to you. I hope you get everything you deserve. And i mean that. Really, i do.
from the artist formally knows as Wife.
Monday, June 14, 2010
I am going on a date
Next sunday afternoon. Which seems like a strange time to pick but we have conflicting schedules. He's an artist. He writes. I think we'll have a lot to talk about.
I however am like a ball of ridiculousness. going. on. a date. I thought once i was married i wouldn't get to date anyone ever again. and now i am missing the security of knowing i will only have to learn about the one person ever again forever and ever. What if he wears strange shoes? what if he asks me if i am actually still legally married to a man that is now dating a naturopath? What if he knows someone i know and then suddenly remembers he is best friends with my ex husband. or that they went to school together. or he dated his sister. Or we actually met when i was 10 and i tripped him over and threw mud in his eye?
These things could happen! they do happen. It's all so unknown and scary and crazy.....
(and a tiny bit exciting.)
I however am like a ball of ridiculousness. going. on. a date. I thought once i was married i wouldn't get to date anyone ever again. and now i am missing the security of knowing i will only have to learn about the one person ever again forever and ever. What if he wears strange shoes? what if he asks me if i am actually still legally married to a man that is now dating a naturopath? What if he knows someone i know and then suddenly remembers he is best friends with my ex husband. or that they went to school together. or he dated his sister. Or we actually met when i was 10 and i tripped him over and threw mud in his eye?
These things could happen! they do happen. It's all so unknown and scary and crazy.....
(and a tiny bit exciting.)
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Perils of Internet Dating.
So i put in my criteria. My perfect man. And you know what it comes up with? My ex boyfriend. All because we read the same books and live close by to each other. And the most annoying part is that he always says "it's not what you're like, it's what you like" and i guess this means we like the same books.
Talk about going around and around in circles. sheesh.
Talk about going around and around in circles. sheesh.
Monday, June 7, 2010
I wish i could write songs like Beyonce
Then i would invite my ex husband to a concert and sing "I don't want to be without you babe, i don't want a broken heart, i don't want to take a breath without you babe, i don't want to play that part" right into his face until it became really uncomfortable and the whole wide world became aware of the pain i have in my heart.
But, because that is not really an option right now, i have decided (with the help of two of my most favourite friends in the world) that all this ANGER can be put into something POSITIVE. What a concept! So instead of sitting in bed and eating chocolate and being so afraid of everything, i am putting some strategies into practice. They are as follows:
1. Do really well at school. REALLY well. Go to every class, pay attention, be present, speak up, listen, draw, get enthused and involved. Finish all my essays without complaining about them too much.
2. Get fit. REALLY fit. Then go to his house and punch the naturopath in the eye. No! that is not what this is about. This is about ME. Me and what i want in my life. So walks on the beach, stretch my weirdo foot, personal training, buy Womens Health magazine. seriously.
3. Get divorced ASAP for my mental health.
4. Stop kissing inappropriate men......eventually. no! be strong. do it immediately. or definitely by next week.
5. Be honest and true to myself in every capacity of my life. Look at the marriage with an open and honest heart and admit to self that perhaps, i had something to do with it falling apart. See a psychologist.
6. Buy a keyboard and start recording some songs. This one seems a little bit off topic but it is something i have been meaning to do for a little while and my brother in law has been asking for some vocals so now is a good time to get it happening. Oh! it's not so off topic considering the way i started this post.
So for number one. i'm going to do a 1000 word essay right now. Its totally easy (and was due a week ago...)
xxxx
But, because that is not really an option right now, i have decided (with the help of two of my most favourite friends in the world) that all this ANGER can be put into something POSITIVE. What a concept! So instead of sitting in bed and eating chocolate and being so afraid of everything, i am putting some strategies into practice. They are as follows:
1. Do really well at school. REALLY well. Go to every class, pay attention, be present, speak up, listen, draw, get enthused and involved. Finish all my essays without complaining about them too much.
2. Get fit. REALLY fit. Then go to his house and punch the naturopath in the eye. No! that is not what this is about. This is about ME. Me and what i want in my life. So walks on the beach, stretch my weirdo foot, personal training, buy Womens Health magazine. seriously.
3. Get divorced ASAP for my mental health.
4. Stop kissing inappropriate men......eventually. no! be strong. do it immediately. or definitely by next week.
5. Be honest and true to myself in every capacity of my life. Look at the marriage with an open and honest heart and admit to self that perhaps, i had something to do with it falling apart. See a psychologist.
6. Buy a keyboard and start recording some songs. This one seems a little bit off topic but it is something i have been meaning to do for a little while and my brother in law has been asking for some vocals so now is a good time to get it happening. Oh! it's not so off topic considering the way i started this post.
So for number one. i'm going to do a 1000 word essay right now. Its totally easy (and was due a week ago...)
xxxx
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