It's complex isn't it? This life.
The more time i spend with Welsh, the more i feel our colours are mixing. I'm yellow and he's red and we seem to be creating a particular shade of gold that i have never seen before. It's like the colour of the sunset we watched last night mixed in with the quarter of his iris that is flecked with orange, mixed in with endless pints of lager, mixed in with the fire in my stomach when I see him after a long absence.
It's the space we are creating between us. Our own special dynamic. Our private jokes and all the ways we recognise each other. It's sunshine and passion and a broken wine glass so-lets-just-share-this-one. It's the beginning of a road we were both walking anyway.
He is impossibly sweet. Sentimental. Creative. He has hidden depths that house a solemness. A playful seriousness and possibly the tendency to over analyse any given situation. Caught between reaction and reflection, he moves gently, thoughtfully, carefully. Except for the way he actually moves. Then he is like a bull in a china shop. He surprises me everyday with his insight, his patience, his quick wit and slow smile. Just when i think i have him pegged, a new dimension emerges and i remember he is 30 years in the making and i have know him for a tiny 3 months.
He was born in a village with snow and sheep and castles. He had 20 kids at his school. He fell in love with a girl who had blonde hair and my name. Then he grew up and got on a plane and found me. I was not exactly waiting for him. I was busy leaving a marriage and vowing to never fall in love again because it hurt too too too much to be worth it.
You know what else is gold? Goldfish.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The labour of love.
What's up with this heat Melbourne? I have a marathon to train for dontcha know? Selfish, Melbourne. Really bloody selfish. Go pick on someone your own size, like Sydney for example.
So there has been very little jogging happening this last week. There has been some going into the city for dinner, hanging with my nephew, driving to Rye for a swim and spending Australia day conducting an impromptu pub crawl around Richmond, but not much jogging unfortunately.
I had a cafe latte with my beautiful and sensitive Kate and we were talking about life (I kid you not!) and grief and ex husbands (mine, not hers) and i came to a conclusion as one does when one is in a cafe with ones excellently insightful friend.
I want to be friends with my ex husband. It is hard, yes. But it is harder not to be friends. The hurt has all but evaporated, the anger dissolved and sitting there at the bottom of the sieve is a little nugget of truth that has been like a stone in my shoe ever since; I still like the guy. And that stone has a piece of sand next to it; Maybe we were supposed to just stay friends in the first place. Not immediately after we separated, but the first FIRST place. The place when we were actually friends and he lent me books and i gave him CDS and he rescued me from terrible clients and I, well I paid for his beer after a particularly horrific day at work.
Oh and guess what? It looks like my boyfriend will be staying in Melbourne. I know! How excellent.
So there has been very little jogging happening this last week. There has been some going into the city for dinner, hanging with my nephew, driving to Rye for a swim and spending Australia day conducting an impromptu pub crawl around Richmond, but not much jogging unfortunately.
I had a cafe latte with my beautiful and sensitive Kate and we were talking about life (I kid you not!) and grief and ex husbands (mine, not hers) and i came to a conclusion as one does when one is in a cafe with ones excellently insightful friend.
I want to be friends with my ex husband. It is hard, yes. But it is harder not to be friends. The hurt has all but evaporated, the anger dissolved and sitting there at the bottom of the sieve is a little nugget of truth that has been like a stone in my shoe ever since; I still like the guy. And that stone has a piece of sand next to it; Maybe we were supposed to just stay friends in the first place. Not immediately after we separated, but the first FIRST place. The place when we were actually friends and he lent me books and i gave him CDS and he rescued me from terrible clients and I, well I paid for his beer after a particularly horrific day at work.
Oh and guess what? It looks like my boyfriend will be staying in Melbourne. I know! How excellent.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Threadbare.
I saw his car last night.
The number plate looked familiar. Community Services Parking Permit? check. Crap all over the back seat? check.
I have not seen him in almost three months. Three months! Maybe he has cut all his hair off. Lost weight. Got a tattoo in a really obvious place. You see, i wouldn't know any of these things. He is my husband but i wouldn't know any of these things. My husband.
I know that he sleeps on his back and gets a sore neck in the mornings. I know that he thinks it's kinda funny when people accidently trip over. I know that he once tripped over on purpose in the middle of a busy city street, just to make me laugh.
But what i don't know.....Does he still cry sometimes about his mum? Does he visit the tree where we threw her ashes that day? Does he wonder where it all went wrong? Does he miss me? Does he even remember me? Is he counting down the days until our marriage is simply a mistake from the past? Until he can sign his name and wash his hands?
With each month that passes, the tiny threads are unravelling and fracturing. He dates another woman. Twang. I get a new boyfriend. Snap. I see his car in the parking lot and feel dread rather than excitement. Crack. Sometimes i cut the threads on purpose; Like when i heard that he never speaks at work anymore. It's not your job to make sure he is okay. You cannot keep doing this to yourself. Snip. And what about that first week in March this year? It is going to be hell on Earth for him. Our 3rd wedding anniversary, the second anniversary of his mums suicide, our divorce. Jesus, I cannot face his pain when my own is so overwhelming. The pull is too great. Those threads don't stand a chance.
I wonder if we'll notice when the last one breaks. Or if I will simply wake one morning, and find him, like all those wishes we threw up to the stars, gone.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
50 things i love...
About being an Aunty.
All this talk about finger babies and pregnancy dreams and Miranda Kerrs breast, has got me all gooey about babies in general. And if there are two babies that i love most in the world, they are my extraordinarily gorgeous niece and nephew. Here is a short lost of some of the things that i love about them.
1. Their faces.
2. The fact they look like most people in my family.
3. When Miss P calls me and yells "Hiiiiiiii" down my ear hole.
4. The bizarre boy related games that Mr C makes me play. (i.e submarine machine guns.)
5. When they look at my paintings and ask "but what IS it?"
6. The hugs.
7. The kisses.
8. The thumping on the floor boards as they rush to the front door when i arrive.
9. When P lets me do her hair and then she looks at mine and says "same"
10. The first time i held them-such different experiences but equally beautiful.
11. Coopers cheekiness.
12. His gentle nature.
13. The quiet way he sometimes observes his world.
14. When he is not participating in the conversation but i can tell he is listening to all that is being said.
15. His love of lollies.
16. His kind heart.
17. Miss P's energy
18. When she pulls a "just let me do what i want and have what i want" face and i think to myself "don't even try it P, i invented that look."
19. When she calls my dad by his first name.
20. When she calls my sister "mummy" and i think "my god, she is her mum."
21. Her thousand different facial expressions.
22. Their relationship with one another.
23. Their pudgy little baby fingers.
24. Every time Cooper gets a hair cut and he become more like a boy. (and less like a baby)
25. Coopers intuition and something he said to me in Vietnam that i cannot think about without crying.
26. The time i slept with them both in a double bed and i realised the kind of parent i am going to be. (one that lets her kids sleep in bed with her because for gods sake it is 3am and it's kinda cosy this way anyway)
27. One day, they will be my childs cousins.
28. "bruvda" (brother) "starple" (purple star) "ladyboy" (best way to get a reaction from their mother.)
29. The way my heart feels when i see them. Hands down, the best feeling ever.
30. They are the glue in our family.
31. I once broke up with a man because my sister said "you deserve to be loved by a boyfriend as much as Cooper loves you." and she was absolutely right.
32. Having children has shown me an entirely different dimension to my sister.
33. I never knew how strong she could be.
34. Lots of people say Cooper is their hero but my sister is mine.
35. Playing pedicures
36. Playing Dora the explorer with special effect voices.
37. I owe all my knowledge about Ben 10 to Cooper.
38. The first time i saw a photo of Miss P, I booked a flight back to Melbourne within 5 minutes.
39. The giddy phone call with my sister when she found out she was having a little girl.
40. The giddy phonecall with my sister when she had, had that little girl.
41. The giddy phone call with that little girl yesterday morning about a princess dress and a family friend that was coming to visit.
42. The moment when Cooper is laughing so much and trying to get the word "more" out.
43. How they get so excited to show me something, be it the new chickens or an empty cupboard.
44. Their defiance and independence which acts as a constant reminder that although they are part of our tight knit family, they are also their own people.
45. Dinners at their house.
46. Knowing that somewhere down the line, in amongst the paint covered bodies and hours in the back yard, my sister got it very, very right.
47. Cooper taught me to slow down and sit still.
48. Pepper helped me find my laugh again.
49. Having my heart triple in size when they came into the world.
50. Everything
I'm sure that it is the same for everyone. That love that exists beyond any word in the English language.
The funny thing is, when i was going through grief (what a terrifically simple way to encompass those horrible two years) I wondered how people coped with life. i figured that at some stage, everyone goes through a really shit thing happening. How are we all still walking around and functioning? How are we all not complete wrecks, crying in the corner? And it's a cliche but the answer really is love. We all carry around grief and pain and loss on our shoulders, but if we also carry love in our heart, it's not nearly as heavy.
All this talk about finger babies and pregnancy dreams and Miranda Kerrs breast, has got me all gooey about babies in general. And if there are two babies that i love most in the world, they are my extraordinarily gorgeous niece and nephew. Here is a short lost of some of the things that i love about them.
1. Their faces.
2. The fact they look like most people in my family.
3. When Miss P calls me and yells "Hiiiiiiii" down my ear hole.
4. The bizarre boy related games that Mr C makes me play. (i.e submarine machine guns.)
5. When they look at my paintings and ask "but what IS it?"
6. The hugs.
7. The kisses.
8. The thumping on the floor boards as they rush to the front door when i arrive.
9. When P lets me do her hair and then she looks at mine and says "same"
10. The first time i held them-such different experiences but equally beautiful.
11. Coopers cheekiness.
12. His gentle nature.
13. The quiet way he sometimes observes his world.
14. When he is not participating in the conversation but i can tell he is listening to all that is being said.
15. His love of lollies.
16. His kind heart.
17. Miss P's energy
18. When she pulls a "just let me do what i want and have what i want" face and i think to myself "don't even try it P, i invented that look."
19. When she calls my dad by his first name.
20. When she calls my sister "mummy" and i think "my god, she is her mum."
21. Her thousand different facial expressions.
22. Their relationship with one another.
23. Their pudgy little baby fingers.
24. Every time Cooper gets a hair cut and he become more like a boy. (and less like a baby)
25. Coopers intuition and something he said to me in Vietnam that i cannot think about without crying.
26. The time i slept with them both in a double bed and i realised the kind of parent i am going to be. (one that lets her kids sleep in bed with her because for gods sake it is 3am and it's kinda cosy this way anyway)
27. One day, they will be my childs cousins.
28. "bruvda" (brother) "starple" (purple star) "ladyboy" (best way to get a reaction from their mother.)
29. The way my heart feels when i see them. Hands down, the best feeling ever.
30. They are the glue in our family.
31. I once broke up with a man because my sister said "you deserve to be loved by a boyfriend as much as Cooper loves you." and she was absolutely right.
32. Having children has shown me an entirely different dimension to my sister.
33. I never knew how strong she could be.
34. Lots of people say Cooper is their hero but my sister is mine.
35. Playing pedicures
36. Playing Dora the explorer with special effect voices.
37. I owe all my knowledge about Ben 10 to Cooper.
38. The first time i saw a photo of Miss P, I booked a flight back to Melbourne within 5 minutes.
39. The giddy phone call with my sister when she found out she was having a little girl.
40. The giddy phonecall with my sister when she had, had that little girl.
41. The giddy phone call with that little girl yesterday morning about a princess dress and a family friend that was coming to visit.
42. The moment when Cooper is laughing so much and trying to get the word "more" out.
43. How they get so excited to show me something, be it the new chickens or an empty cupboard.
44. Their defiance and independence which acts as a constant reminder that although they are part of our tight knit family, they are also their own people.
45. Dinners at their house.
46. Knowing that somewhere down the line, in amongst the paint covered bodies and hours in the back yard, my sister got it very, very right.
47. Cooper taught me to slow down and sit still.
48. Pepper helped me find my laugh again.
49. Having my heart triple in size when they came into the world.
50. Everything
I'm sure that it is the same for everyone. That love that exists beyond any word in the English language.
The funny thing is, when i was going through grief (what a terrifically simple way to encompass those horrible two years) I wondered how people coped with life. i figured that at some stage, everyone goes through a really shit thing happening. How are we all still walking around and functioning? How are we all not complete wrecks, crying in the corner? And it's a cliche but the answer really is love. We all carry around grief and pain and loss on our shoulders, but if we also carry love in our heart, it's not nearly as heavy.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The wonderful place i lived when i was 30 years old.
The boring bits:
I ran 2.25km on a treadmill and did some creative things with weights.
Running laps around the same oval is getting old.
I called a guy today about a job.
The less boring bits;
I had a dream this morning that my sister called me fat and that she had another baby after we had spoken on the phone about a dream she had had about our other sister having a baby. It was like life imitating art imitating a dream.
Welsh and i had a big talk last night about the F word. (Future that is.) We skirted and toe dipped and finally acknowledged that we would both like to give each other a chance to be an important part of each others lives. This means finding a way to be together, despite being geographically challenged. Which leaves us with exciting choices like 6 months in Wales/Italy/New Zealand or somewhere we have not even thought of yet. Preference one of course is him getting a sponsorship to stay in the country for the next few years. But it's good to have loose plans in case that doesn't happen.
My plan is to make my way to wherever we decide to be, after visiting Paris in April. Then of course get home in October in time to run 21km. So thoughts anyone? Nice places to visit for 6 months and work and live and fall more in love and read and write and spend the year that i am 30 years old?
I ran 2.25km on a treadmill and did some creative things with weights.
Running laps around the same oval is getting old.
I called a guy today about a job.
The less boring bits;
I had a dream this morning that my sister called me fat and that she had another baby after we had spoken on the phone about a dream she had had about our other sister having a baby. It was like life imitating art imitating a dream.
Welsh and i had a big talk last night about the F word. (Future that is.) We skirted and toe dipped and finally acknowledged that we would both like to give each other a chance to be an important part of each others lives. This means finding a way to be together, despite being geographically challenged. Which leaves us with exciting choices like 6 months in Wales/Italy/New Zealand or somewhere we have not even thought of yet. Preference one of course is him getting a sponsorship to stay in the country for the next few years. But it's good to have loose plans in case that doesn't happen.
My plan is to make my way to wherever we decide to be, after visiting Paris in April. Then of course get home in October in time to run 21km. So thoughts anyone? Nice places to visit for 6 months and work and live and fall more in love and read and write and spend the year that i am 30 years old?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Follow Me.
If i was into drawing graphs, the correlation between my lack of job satisfaction and time spent blogging would be remarkable. It would come out as one giant X as motivation fell and blogging soared.
Honestly, i need to get a job. Yes, yes, we all know I have a job but i mean a REAL job. One that requires me to use, oh, I don't know, more than say 2% of of my brain and doesn't make me want to kill every single person who speaks to me.
The issue is that my qualifications and experience are a bit scattered to say the least. I mean, children's services, youth work, art therapy, working in a toy shop and no real desire to do anything other than blog? Hmmm...I think even my year 10 career counsellor would struggle with that one. Oh, and once I actually get my act together and register with a union, i will be qualified to work as a counsellor. Maybe i can career counsel myself! Or maybe i should just GET A JOB.
Anyway, while i job hunt, I will also blog but i need some positive reinforcement people. Click that "follow" button and make me feel like i am not wasting my life. Much appreciated.
Honestly, i need to get a job. Yes, yes, we all know I have a job but i mean a REAL job. One that requires me to use, oh, I don't know, more than say 2% of of my brain and doesn't make me want to kill every single person who speaks to me.
The issue is that my qualifications and experience are a bit scattered to say the least. I mean, children's services, youth work, art therapy, working in a toy shop and no real desire to do anything other than blog? Hmmm...I think even my year 10 career counsellor would struggle with that one. Oh, and once I actually get my act together and register with a union, i will be qualified to work as a counsellor. Maybe i can career counsel myself! Or maybe i should just GET A JOB.
Anyway, while i job hunt, I will also blog but i need some positive reinforcement people. Click that "follow" button and make me feel like i am not wasting my life. Much appreciated.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
A run through.
Get it? RUN through. How hilarious.
Guess what i just did? Got a job? Nope. Got divorced? No. Serviced my car? Boring.
No, those are all the bleh things on my very long to do list. What i actually did, was run 2km today. AND i walked 2km. And i also walked an incidental 1.9km today too, just for good measure (and coffee.)
I’m doing laps around the local oval you see. Today the first lap was hard, the second lap was less hard but still boring. The third was as easy as the fourth and by the fifth I was just keen to get finished so it was quite easy. From house to back to the house again was a total of 35 minutes. I was really red when i got home. It is not attractive.
Oh i just remembered i did more walking today. I walked around the gardens near my old house. It is impossibly beautiful there. All ponds and greenhouses and over sized chess boards. It is also the place i got married almost three years ago. I have walked through that garden about 100 times. Run through it. Ridden my bike through it. Had picnics there, written letters, drunk beer and laughed at cockatoos. Today i discovered a secret path that i had never come across before. How is that even possible? I could not believe that I, biggest romantic i know, lover of all things whimsical, subscriber to the notice the little, strange and subtle things philosophy had been completely blind to a secret path for all these years. It is a planned path, not something created by people wanting to get drunk in the bushes.
So obviously i walked the secret path as it wound it’s way through crooked trees and beds of violets. I thought about how my imaginary friend as a child was called Violet. And how she hated going to kinder and the woman down the road. I wondered how Violet is doing now.
When i emerged at the other end of the path i kind of half stumbled back onto the main track again, into the sunlight, right in front of a gate. I walked through it, backwards. Well, not backwards, i mean i walked forwards but going in the other direction as before. And by before, i mean the day i got married.
Things to remember;
When i don’t feel like running, just run anyway.
Even though I think you know everything, I can still be surprised.
The day I got married, I didn’t know about the secret path, but it had existed all along. It offers a different path which is beautiful in its own right and even more beautiful because it is different.
Guess what i just did? Got a job? Nope. Got divorced? No. Serviced my car? Boring.
No, those are all the bleh things on my very long to do list. What i actually did, was run 2km today. AND i walked 2km. And i also walked an incidental 1.9km today too, just for good measure (and coffee.)
I’m doing laps around the local oval you see. Today the first lap was hard, the second lap was less hard but still boring. The third was as easy as the fourth and by the fifth I was just keen to get finished so it was quite easy. From house to back to the house again was a total of 35 minutes. I was really red when i got home. It is not attractive.
Oh i just remembered i did more walking today. I walked around the gardens near my old house. It is impossibly beautiful there. All ponds and greenhouses and over sized chess boards. It is also the place i got married almost three years ago. I have walked through that garden about 100 times. Run through it. Ridden my bike through it. Had picnics there, written letters, drunk beer and laughed at cockatoos. Today i discovered a secret path that i had never come across before. How is that even possible? I could not believe that I, biggest romantic i know, lover of all things whimsical, subscriber to the notice the little, strange and subtle things philosophy had been completely blind to a secret path for all these years. It is a planned path, not something created by people wanting to get drunk in the bushes.
So obviously i walked the secret path as it wound it’s way through crooked trees and beds of violets. I thought about how my imaginary friend as a child was called Violet. And how she hated going to kinder and the woman down the road. I wondered how Violet is doing now.
When i emerged at the other end of the path i kind of half stumbled back onto the main track again, into the sunlight, right in front of a gate. I walked through it, backwards. Well, not backwards, i mean i walked forwards but going in the other direction as before. And by before, i mean the day i got married.
Things to remember;
When i don’t feel like running, just run anyway.
Even though I think you know everything, I can still be surprised.
The day I got married, I didn’t know about the secret path, but it had existed all along. It offers a different path which is beautiful in its own right and even more beautiful because it is different.
Friday, January 14, 2011
How to break into a car.
There we were, standing in the middle of Coles carpark. My mouth was open but no words would come out. Welsh was looking from my car window to my face then back to the car window again. Well not the window exactly, to the inside of my car. My ignition to be precise. And to the thing that was stuck in my ignition.
Finally, words came. They were not nice words. I kicked a tyre and tried not to cry. Stupid car and stupid keys and stupid me for locking them in there.
"Where's your spare key?" Welsh asked
"In my bag."
"Where's your bag?" he asked.
"In my car."
At that moment a big old four wheel drive pulled in across the road. Welsh, who practices this sort of child of the universe friendliness, skipped over and stuck his head through the drivers window. I couldn't hear what was being said but in no time, he had recruited a little helper for us.
"Dontcha have a spare key?" He asked
"Sure she does" Welsh replied "in the car there."
"hmmmm" said 4WD "What you need is a slim Jim."
"ohhh....a slim jim!" I said "Couldn't we just use packaging tape?"
Welsh raised an eye brow at me and i decided to keep my petty criminal past to myself at that moment.
"Whatcha doing?"
We turned around to see a guy in a bandana and a cap strolling towards us.
"Keys locked in car" I said to him.
"No spare?"
I pointed a hitch hikers thumb towards my bag on the passenger seat.
"Hmmm" said Chinese Mafia "What you need is a slim Jim...or some packaging tape."
Meanwhile 4WD was making phone calls to rearrange coaching sessions. He's in the Australian Open you see. He'd hurt his wrist the day before though. I almost made a joke about this being so much more fun than winning a grand slam but decided that i am not that funny actually. I found all this out while Chinese Mafia and Welsh shoved various loops of coat hangers between the window and the door.
After awhile, i got bored. I went to the video store. Called my dad. Considered going to get a beer or something.
As i was walking back to the car, a small man with glasses approached me. He was carrying a black case.
"Did you lock your keys in the car?" He asked.
"Yes i surely did and there are steaks in there. My dinner you see. And i am bored and hungry and annoyed because some smarty pants thief broke into my car about 6 months ago and stole my Ipod, but between an Australian Open Tennis player, a member of the Chinese Mafia, a Welsh Engineer and well, me, we cannot seem to get in and what is in that case?"
"It's a tool kit, i just happened to be walking past with it" replied Rabbits Foot.
"okayyyyyyyy" said I.
So Rabbits foot spent some time shoving a screwdriver in the already broken lock from the Era of The Stolen Ipod.
Two Irish lads who were playing soccer, shirtless in the street, also came over to have a look.
"Where do you live?" they asked, very concerned
"Just down the road, but my house keys are also on that key chain."
"ohhhhh...." they paced around alot and peered through windows and tried the boot a few times.
After while they got as bored as me and returned to their game.
Two drunken men who i has walked past earlier and given a wide birth finally strolled over. Snatching the coat hanger off Welsh, one of them screamed instructions to him. Chinese Mafia had gone back to his official role of trolly boy. Rabbits foot was busy srcatching up the paint work around my lock. 4WD had suddenly turned his back towards to the street.
"Whats up?" I asked him
"Oh...that guy over there, he once asked me out for coffee."
"Did you go?"
"Of course not" he fake laughed.
I wondered why it was so important to him, for me to know that he was not gay. i also wondered if the the coffee date guy knew how to break into a car.
Mr Shouty was really getting into his groove by this point
"Hold this!"
"Pull"
"Aghhhhh...Bloody hell"
All in thick slurry of a Serbian accent.
Meanwhile, Mr Shoutys friend was muttering discouragement from the side lines. They accused each other of being drunk a few times. I was hoping for a fist fight but alas, no punching.
"You know what we should do?" said 4WD (by this point, we had established ourselves firmly as spectators because the testosterone around that car door was fairly intense. "We should get some super glue and shove the coat hanger inside the window, until it touches the lock, then let it dry, then pull the lock up."
I volunteered to go into Coles and buy the super glue. Everyone else ignored me and kept swearing at the door.
By the time i got back, there was a new cast member. A lady had volunteered to call the RACV. They had coluded and come up with a weirdo story about her being in my car and locking the keys in the boot and some other such nonsense, so that i wouldn't have to actually join the RACV myself.
"HOOOORRRAAAY" yelled Mr Shouty (who else.)
The door swung open, The Lady hung up her phone. Mr Shouty's friend ate some humble pie. 4WD got back in his car. Rabbits Foot stood there grinning. I hugged Welsh and we all laughed, euphoric, feeling like we had won The Amazing Race or Beat The Star. I mean, if we can break into a Barina, what can't we do? (and yes, i acknowledge i did very little.)
Mr Shouty made a speech about always trying to help people and we all shook hands and Welsh told me to hug Shouty. I declined on the grounds that I was grateful but not that grateful and hugging a drunk stranger in a car park is not that cool.
This is the best day of my life i thought to myself as we left the steaks, forgotten, to rot in the hot car. We walked towards a bar and Welsh put my spare key in his back pocket for next time. And i thought to myself, isn't it funny how sometimes you can see the key you want so very much, but you just have to be patient and enlist the help of strangers to help you get it. And why not keep a spare one, with someone you love?
And it was not exactly a metaphor for life, but in that moment, it felt kinda close.
Finally, words came. They were not nice words. I kicked a tyre and tried not to cry. Stupid car and stupid keys and stupid me for locking them in there.
"Where's your spare key?" Welsh asked
"In my bag."
"Where's your bag?" he asked.
"In my car."
At that moment a big old four wheel drive pulled in across the road. Welsh, who practices this sort of child of the universe friendliness, skipped over and stuck his head through the drivers window. I couldn't hear what was being said but in no time, he had recruited a little helper for us.
"Dontcha have a spare key?" He asked
"Sure she does" Welsh replied "in the car there."
"hmmmm" said 4WD "What you need is a slim Jim."
"ohhh....a slim jim!" I said "Couldn't we just use packaging tape?"
Welsh raised an eye brow at me and i decided to keep my petty criminal past to myself at that moment.
"Whatcha doing?"
We turned around to see a guy in a bandana and a cap strolling towards us.
"Keys locked in car" I said to him.
"No spare?"
I pointed a hitch hikers thumb towards my bag on the passenger seat.
"Hmmm" said Chinese Mafia "What you need is a slim Jim...or some packaging tape."
Meanwhile 4WD was making phone calls to rearrange coaching sessions. He's in the Australian Open you see. He'd hurt his wrist the day before though. I almost made a joke about this being so much more fun than winning a grand slam but decided that i am not that funny actually. I found all this out while Chinese Mafia and Welsh shoved various loops of coat hangers between the window and the door.
After awhile, i got bored. I went to the video store. Called my dad. Considered going to get a beer or something.
As i was walking back to the car, a small man with glasses approached me. He was carrying a black case.
"Did you lock your keys in the car?" He asked.
"Yes i surely did and there are steaks in there. My dinner you see. And i am bored and hungry and annoyed because some smarty pants thief broke into my car about 6 months ago and stole my Ipod, but between an Australian Open Tennis player, a member of the Chinese Mafia, a Welsh Engineer and well, me, we cannot seem to get in and what is in that case?"
"It's a tool kit, i just happened to be walking past with it" replied Rabbits Foot.
"okayyyyyyyy" said I.
So Rabbits foot spent some time shoving a screwdriver in the already broken lock from the Era of The Stolen Ipod.
Two Irish lads who were playing soccer, shirtless in the street, also came over to have a look.
"Where do you live?" they asked, very concerned
"Just down the road, but my house keys are also on that key chain."
"ohhhhh...." they paced around alot and peered through windows and tried the boot a few times.
After while they got as bored as me and returned to their game.
Two drunken men who i has walked past earlier and given a wide birth finally strolled over. Snatching the coat hanger off Welsh, one of them screamed instructions to him. Chinese Mafia had gone back to his official role of trolly boy. Rabbits foot was busy srcatching up the paint work around my lock. 4WD had suddenly turned his back towards to the street.
"Whats up?" I asked him
"Oh...that guy over there, he once asked me out for coffee."
"Did you go?"
"Of course not" he fake laughed.
I wondered why it was so important to him, for me to know that he was not gay. i also wondered if the the coffee date guy knew how to break into a car.
Mr Shouty was really getting into his groove by this point
"Hold this!"
"Pull"
"Aghhhhh...Bloody hell"
All in thick slurry of a Serbian accent.
Meanwhile, Mr Shoutys friend was muttering discouragement from the side lines. They accused each other of being drunk a few times. I was hoping for a fist fight but alas, no punching.
"You know what we should do?" said 4WD (by this point, we had established ourselves firmly as spectators because the testosterone around that car door was fairly intense. "We should get some super glue and shove the coat hanger inside the window, until it touches the lock, then let it dry, then pull the lock up."
I volunteered to go into Coles and buy the super glue. Everyone else ignored me and kept swearing at the door.
By the time i got back, there was a new cast member. A lady had volunteered to call the RACV. They had coluded and come up with a weirdo story about her being in my car and locking the keys in the boot and some other such nonsense, so that i wouldn't have to actually join the RACV myself.
"HOOOORRRAAAY" yelled Mr Shouty (who else.)
The door swung open, The Lady hung up her phone. Mr Shouty's friend ate some humble pie. 4WD got back in his car. Rabbits Foot stood there grinning. I hugged Welsh and we all laughed, euphoric, feeling like we had won The Amazing Race or Beat The Star. I mean, if we can break into a Barina, what can't we do? (and yes, i acknowledge i did very little.)
Mr Shouty made a speech about always trying to help people and we all shook hands and Welsh told me to hug Shouty. I declined on the grounds that I was grateful but not that grateful and hugging a drunk stranger in a car park is not that cool.
This is the best day of my life i thought to myself as we left the steaks, forgotten, to rot in the hot car. We walked towards a bar and Welsh put my spare key in his back pocket for next time. And i thought to myself, isn't it funny how sometimes you can see the key you want so very much, but you just have to be patient and enlist the help of strangers to help you get it. And why not keep a spare one, with someone you love?
And it was not exactly a metaphor for life, but in that moment, it felt kinda close.
It's just not cricket.
I ran a little bit yesterday. Well....a really little bit. Like 800m little. The thing is, there were men on my running oval. Lots of cricket ball throwing-leering at the running girl peering-this is a cricket pitch, not a running track suggesting-men. My head was just not in the game so i came home and had a nap instead.
I walked 3.5km today though. And ate pancakes. AND i sent something to a magazine for submission.
Oh, oh, oh and i applied for a job yesterday. And made gingerbread men with my nephew. And told Welsh i would move to Canada with him if needs be. (Although i would prefer Italy.)
And also, i went to work today and ate grapes and played word games.
I walked 3.5km today though. And ate pancakes. AND i sent something to a magazine for submission.
Oh, oh, oh and i applied for a job yesterday. And made gingerbread men with my nephew. And told Welsh i would move to Canada with him if needs be. (Although i would prefer Italy.)
And also, i went to work today and ate grapes and played word games.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Mine.
Hey guess what? I just ran 1.2 km in the rain without stopping and i am not even puffed. I was also carrying a book, my phone, my keys and my IPOD. AND I walked an extra 1.4 km so retrieve my car. This was not even part of the program but more a spontaneous moment in exercise.
I was having coffee with my friend yesterday. We work together and drink coffee together quite a bit. Anyway, we were talking about crossroads (the metaphor, not the Britney Spears film) and about how to choose a direction. Her advice was to work backwards from where you want to be in a few years time. This makes sense to me and for some reason, is the first time i have considered this. I am more of a "It seems like a good thing to do right now and let's see where it leads me" kind of a girl.
So this is what i know: In three years, I would love to be living in a nice place. Not that i don't like where i live now, i am just OVER it. And to be honest, i would like to be living sans housemate. I'm imagining something cosy with lamps and beautiful prints and a big couch and teacups in every room. SO i guess the things i need for that are a job and a regular income that is high enough to support that kind of renting situation.
I would also like to be working somewhere in the field of writing. For this i feel that i need some sort of qualification. Soooo...i am thinking of studying Professional Writing and Editing. It's a two year Diploma, three days a week, around the corner from my house. I actually started this course module by module about 10 years ago. Then i fell off the wagon with an episode of depression and general fucking aboutness in my life. By the time i gathered my thoughts again, i was living in San Francisco, 22 years old and I had decided to study Children Services and save the world. This of course led to a few years in the community sector, meeting my ex husband, studying art therapy and BANG! Here we are again. I love writing. It is when i am my happiest. It happens naturally for me and is seriously the only reason i have been so successful in my studies. I sometimes have no idea what i am going on about but my brain can automatically sort it into sections and sell it.
I am good at being a student. I eat a lot of rice and forbid my friends from putting anything into brotherhood bins. I really want to do this. For now and for the future. MY future. Not the one that included L and maybe having a baby and moving to the Dandynongs and having a great big studio and running careless workshops. It is time to get serious.
And it's as simple and as complicated as that.
I was having coffee with my friend yesterday. We work together and drink coffee together quite a bit. Anyway, we were talking about crossroads (the metaphor, not the Britney Spears film) and about how to choose a direction. Her advice was to work backwards from where you want to be in a few years time. This makes sense to me and for some reason, is the first time i have considered this. I am more of a "It seems like a good thing to do right now and let's see where it leads me" kind of a girl.
So this is what i know: In three years, I would love to be living in a nice place. Not that i don't like where i live now, i am just OVER it. And to be honest, i would like to be living sans housemate. I'm imagining something cosy with lamps and beautiful prints and a big couch and teacups in every room. SO i guess the things i need for that are a job and a regular income that is high enough to support that kind of renting situation.
I would also like to be working somewhere in the field of writing. For this i feel that i need some sort of qualification. Soooo...i am thinking of studying Professional Writing and Editing. It's a two year Diploma, three days a week, around the corner from my house. I actually started this course module by module about 10 years ago. Then i fell off the wagon with an episode of depression and general fucking aboutness in my life. By the time i gathered my thoughts again, i was living in San Francisco, 22 years old and I had decided to study Children Services and save the world. This of course led to a few years in the community sector, meeting my ex husband, studying art therapy and BANG! Here we are again. I love writing. It is when i am my happiest. It happens naturally for me and is seriously the only reason i have been so successful in my studies. I sometimes have no idea what i am going on about but my brain can automatically sort it into sections and sell it.
I am good at being a student. I eat a lot of rice and forbid my friends from putting anything into brotherhood bins. I really want to do this. For now and for the future. MY future. Not the one that included L and maybe having a baby and moving to the Dandynongs and having a great big studio and running careless workshops. It is time to get serious.
And it's as simple and as complicated as that.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
27 minutes.
That's how long i ran and walked for today. I'm not judging it. Just documenting.
It included-walking to the beach, running 1.6km, walking 1.6km and walking home again. And checking the mail.
I got my results in said mail. Out of nine subjects i got 3 D's and 6 HD's. Not bad for a year filled with marriage separation, moving house, an overseas trip, work of course and volunteering at a local homelessness service. And meeting three celebrities of course. And growing my fringe out. And getting drunk with my friends quite often. And going to the gm with my sister once a week. Oh and buying a new car. And painting some weird shit, yelling at the dog next door, Internet dating, getting 4 parking fines, writing lots, considering reconciling with my ex husband, screaming at ex husband, crying about ex husband, getting ex husband OUT OF MY LIFE. That sort of stuff.
Guess what? In 52 days, i can apply for a divorce. Is it weird that i am excited about that? I just want it all to be over. I was looking at photos from my wedding the other day on Facebook and they no longer make me feel sad. They actually don't make me feel anything. Mostly bored really. Like when you look at photos of yourself from high school and you look kinda ugly. That kind of feeling. That it was a long time ago and that you are not really the same you as in those pictures.
Does that seem bitter? I am not bitter. I am 29. I got married once. It didn't work out for a variety of reasons. I guess the hurt has faded and the guilt and blame has all but dried up. What replaces those feelings in situations like this? Maybe just a deep sense of nothingness.
Remind me about this when i sit down with him to sign the papers.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Fifty things.
I keep stumbling across lists that people make on their blogs. Like 50 random facts or 10 things they did in the last year. I like the idea. It seems self indulgent to me, but seriously, i write a blog about myself just so strangers can read it-I am perhaps okay with a little self indulgence.
Fifty things:
Things i want to do in my lifetime:
Live in another country
Have a child. Or maybe two.
Publish something of the written kind.
Things I have done already:
Lived in another country. (I want to do that again.)
Squeezed my niece and nephew
Quit jobs.
Laughed in my sleep.
Fought in public
Kissed in public
Visited 20 different cities. Probably more actually.
Things i need to buy:
A house
A shower caddy thing
Printer cartridges
New shoes
New jeans
A ticket to Wales.
Coffee.
Things i am slowing letting go of.
My marriage
My obsession with my weight.
My obsession with my hair
The fact that she died.
The fact that i cannot let it go. (yeah! you can let go of trying to let something go.)
Things i want to write books about:
Love
Grief
When two people meet on a train
A train station with no exit.
How sometimes my heart feels like it is yawning and makes me wonder why falling in love makes it feel like it is opening and why that makes me think of a yawn.
physical afflictions that effect people and why they effect people like restless leg syndrome where you cannot keep your leg still while you sleep and what is it that you are running away from??
A watch that breaks at a certain time and a baby that is born at that time and what these two things mean for the baby and the watch wearer.
A painting with secrets to tell.
A birthmark in the shape of a wild flower.
All in one book!!
People that other people say i look like:
Whitney Port
Joss Stone
Delta Goodrum.
Pink.
People i wish i looked like
Jonothan Safran Foers wife.
The best books in the world:
Everything is Illuminated
The Secret Garden
Love in the Time of Cholera
Scission
The Picture of Dorian Grey.
My favourite world in Welsh:
Cariad.
Choose one thing:
oysters
writing
black
mascara
a photo of my parents
summer
cinnamon
regret
his laugh
So I think that is around 50 things.
Fifty things:
Things i want to do in my lifetime:
Live in another country
Have a child. Or maybe two.
Publish something of the written kind.
Things I have done already:
Lived in another country. (I want to do that again.)
Squeezed my niece and nephew
Quit jobs.
Laughed in my sleep.
Fought in public
Kissed in public
Visited 20 different cities. Probably more actually.
Things i need to buy:
A house
A shower caddy thing
Printer cartridges
New shoes
New jeans
A ticket to Wales.
Coffee.
Things i am slowing letting go of.
My marriage
My obsession with my weight.
My obsession with my hair
The fact that she died.
The fact that i cannot let it go. (yeah! you can let go of trying to let something go.)
Things i want to write books about:
Love
Grief
When two people meet on a train
A train station with no exit.
How sometimes my heart feels like it is yawning and makes me wonder why falling in love makes it feel like it is opening and why that makes me think of a yawn.
physical afflictions that effect people and why they effect people like restless leg syndrome where you cannot keep your leg still while you sleep and what is it that you are running away from??
A watch that breaks at a certain time and a baby that is born at that time and what these two things mean for the baby and the watch wearer.
A painting with secrets to tell.
A birthmark in the shape of a wild flower.
All in one book!!
People that other people say i look like:
Whitney Port
Joss Stone
Delta Goodrum.
Pink.
People i wish i looked like
Jonothan Safran Foers wife.
The best books in the world:
Everything is Illuminated
The Secret Garden
Love in the Time of Cholera
Scission
The Picture of Dorian Grey.
My favourite world in Welsh:
Cariad.
Choose one thing:
oysters
writing
black
mascara
a photo of my parents
summer
cinnamon
regret
his laugh
So I think that is around 50 things.
Wales.
Hello friends.
I have had an idea growing in my heart these last two months. I have watered it with imaginings and sunned it with 2am conversations with Welsh and now i want to acknowledge it in the wonderfulness of my blog. (P.s I find having a blog really weird sometimes.)
I want to go to Wales!!! I want to go to Wales and see where Welsh grew up. I want to meet his family and look at his baby photos. I want to sit in his local pub and listen to the curly words swim around me. I want to walk across impossibly green fields and complain about the weather.
I hope, HOPE, that he sticks around in melbourne for as long as he wishes. But i am equally excited by the idea of traipsing off to Wales with him later in the year. There are castles there! Castles!!
Obviously i will not go there forever and ever and ever. I know myself well enough to know that i would miss my family too much. And of course my friends would get really sick of visiting me every weekend. But just for a spell. A little spell in Wales.
I have had an idea growing in my heart these last two months. I have watered it with imaginings and sunned it with 2am conversations with Welsh and now i want to acknowledge it in the wonderfulness of my blog. (P.s I find having a blog really weird sometimes.)
I want to go to Wales!!! I want to go to Wales and see where Welsh grew up. I want to meet his family and look at his baby photos. I want to sit in his local pub and listen to the curly words swim around me. I want to walk across impossibly green fields and complain about the weather.
I hope, HOPE, that he sticks around in melbourne for as long as he wishes. But i am equally excited by the idea of traipsing off to Wales with him later in the year. There are castles there! Castles!!
Obviously i will not go there forever and ever and ever. I know myself well enough to know that i would miss my family too much. And of course my friends would get really sick of visiting me every weekend. But just for a spell. A little spell in Wales.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Write. right? write.
I have the grossest peeling from sunburn right now. I am so preoccupied with it that i am finding it hard to focus on anything else. Seriously, is there anything more gross than brown, dry skin flaking off your body? I've even watched an episode of Embarrassing Bodies and I still find my back more unappealing.
Ew.
Meanwhile, i need to keep writing. I am going to write something every day. A short story, a little passage, an essence statement. My lovely writer friend kate and i had a writers group today AKA a 45 minute drive to a baby shower. The key messages that came out of it for me were around my resistance to commit to one style. And resistance to put energy behind my writing. And resistance to compromising the mood of my writing by going to a real writers group.
Basically there is a lot of resistance to setting boundaries around the way i write.
So i am just going to write.
The end.
Ew.
Meanwhile, i need to keep writing. I am going to write something every day. A short story, a little passage, an essence statement. My lovely writer friend kate and i had a writers group today AKA a 45 minute drive to a baby shower. The key messages that came out of it for me were around my resistance to commit to one style. And resistance to put energy behind my writing. And resistance to compromising the mood of my writing by going to a real writers group.
Basically there is a lot of resistance to setting boundaries around the way i write.
So i am just going to write.
The end.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Plan A
So It's 2011 and time to start working on some of these resolutions. I feel like if i start with a plan then you know, I might have a shot at actually getting up and going for a run and yada yada yada. You know what i am saying.
So. Plan A is this. (I like to give myself the option of creating a plan B, C and D later down the line if needs be. Commitment issues much?)
-Run/walk three times a week. Increasing distance by 800m, 400m of walking and 400 of running, each time.
-Eventually, when the time is right, decrease walking portions by half.
-Stretch before running.
Also, drink more water, stop drinking alcohol during the week and eat a vegetable once in awhile.
AND plug ipod in the charge every night. It's getting on my nerves the way you always let the battery run down and then use that as an excuse not to run. Look, I don't mean to be hard on you but this is for your own good okay? Don't look at me like that.....oh...I'm sorry....you can do whatever you want with your ipod. It's your life after all. Let's never fight again.
One more thing on the 2011 to do list; Get divorced.
So. Plan A is this. (I like to give myself the option of creating a plan B, C and D later down the line if needs be. Commitment issues much?)
-Run/walk three times a week. Increasing distance by 800m, 400m of walking and 400 of running, each time.
-Eventually, when the time is right, decrease walking portions by half.
-Stretch before running.
Also, drink more water, stop drinking alcohol during the week and eat a vegetable once in awhile.
AND plug ipod in the charge every night. It's getting on my nerves the way you always let the battery run down and then use that as an excuse not to run. Look, I don't mean to be hard on you but this is for your own good okay? Don't look at me like that.....oh...I'm sorry....you can do whatever you want with your ipod. It's your life after all. Let's never fight again.
One more thing on the 2011 to do list; Get divorced.
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