Fuck me! Pineapples grow on the bloody ground, and not in trees. Did you know that? please sign the guestbook and leave an "Aye, you daft cunt, of course they do" or a "Get the fuck out?! Blimey, that's clever" message. I really want to know if i am the only one who had visions of them growing high atop a tree. The boi and his mother had a great chuckle at my incredulity at the phenomenon a few days ago.
I have now petted a kangaroo...and a koala... i think that's pretty much and Aussie equivalent of the newfie "screeching in", so now it feels as though i am actually here, and not just dreaming. Will throw up some pics at some point over the next week and link you to them.
Have made a great discovery on how to be rid of little people vermin...when said unknown whiney-arsed snot-nosed rugrat is sitting in front of you grumbing about not being able to see the tiger demonstration being given below? It's a good bet that leaning in to say "well come up and stand in this empty seat next to me" will leave the little bastard first staring wide eyed, then shutting the fuck up but quick and running into his parents arms crying about the "strange lady" talking to him. Works a treat, that.
Have discovered with great amusement how quickly kidlets can become confused. I've always had a weird assed magnet effect with small children, they seemed drawn to me. The boi tends to make small people burst into tears. Watching strange little spawn look from one of us to the other not knowing wether to approach and pet me, or run wailing is a tad amusing.
Running the risk of inviting a multitude of puppy" jokes, it is becoming apparent that i need a chew toy. While the boi asured me before my arrival he likes being bitten, what i have discovered since arriving is "i like being bitten", when translated from wombat to puppy actually means "if you do more then gum me in the gentlest of fashions i will whine like a biatch and show any teethmarks to passing strangers as evidence of abuse." Bah.Ironically, it does not stop him from nearly ripping chunks from me. Fucker bites harder then anyone else i've ever some across.
I also seem to be having some difficulty in convincing him that i am NOT, in fact, a toy put here for his amusment.
On the other hand, i am infinetely amused as the rampant geek in him does inner battle with the perve. A particular favourite of mine is to snugle up to him while he watches one of his random geeky tv shows. He practically gets whiplash turning from tv to me, in an obvious conundrum over the fact that on one side of him lies geekdom in the form of "Stargate" and on the other? There is a woman in his bed. What to do what to do?*snickering* So cute!
In other news, this weird assed rollable rubber mat of a keyboard he boi has? appears to be waterproof. thats what i get for drinking while typing. Ummm...it was due for a cleaning anyway? I only spilled a teeny bit and it's all still working? I love you? bunches? But tia laruso in ice coffee is scrummy.
I probably should considering looking for work soon though. playing hooky while shopping and gardening and housebitching lots probably does not count, huh? I guess its a matter of me becoming bored to the point where i will go crazy unless i find somehing else to do. thus far i've been keeping relatively occupied exploring and relaxing.
pineapples. on the fucking ground, man. it's odd the things that blow my mind.
Friday, August 27, 2004
Saturday, August 21, 2004
The din in my head.
So...um...yeah. Australia. Not sure what to say about that, really. Thus far, The past week has been spent doing regular everyday things, sorting out my permit, agonizing over money stuff, meeting the relatives and friends of the Evil Bastardly One (who really is far more cuddleslut then bastard in person), unpacking and such. I've been poking around Brisbane, and like what i see.
But, for now, it is a city like any other, allbeit a fucklot cleaner then most, and filled with friendly folk. Even the accent does not throw me too much; I've lived away from Canada long enough now to no longer dazzled by the fact that i am surrounded by people who can't talk properly :P
And all my nerves? Mostly gone now. Mostly gone about two seconds after "hello" at the airport, in fact. Some residual squickiness stemming from the fact that I'm trying to fit into someone else's life, schedule, and living space...and not always doing a good job. I tend to be a little overwhelming at the best of times, and somehow the presence of nikki tends to leak out and creep all over the place. I leave books and writing paraphenalia all over the house, my girlie things clutter a bathroom in an eyeblink, hippy food appears by magic in the kitchen, i eat in bed and i hog the space. I'm alot to deal with. And i find it hard to minimize the impact.
I'm also a sucker for puppies...and the pup here had that figured out right away. Already he knows I'll sneak him food when no one else is looking, and he will creep into the bedroom for a quick fussing from me even though he knows he's not allowed in there.
I'm not sure what the family thought about having me here on the boi's birthday, either. As well as he and i knew each others from a couple of years of contact, to them it still meant a relative stranger was present during the celebratory stuff.
Maybe i am overthinking. But i've been a lifetime feeling like i don't belong, don't fit in, am not part of the big picture around me. it's a hard sensation to shake off. The temporary nature of my life only accentuates that. Fact is, my stay here is a time limited offer. It becomes necessary to constantly remind myself of that fact, to reign in my imagination a little and keep things in perspective. No matter how right things seem, no matter how blissfull i am...no matter how deeply i fall...all things must come to an end. I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I'm ridiculously in love, and will enjoy every second...but this time next year i will have to say goodbye in a manner so intensely painful i can't fathom it.
On the upside, i had to buy blistex...serious lip dryness from the overload of kissing. A noteable yayness mention also goes to the wonderful stamina of youth. Screw this thing I've had for older men...young manchild types is where it is AT, I'm telling ya! Buger viagra. Early 20-something libedo is the way to go.
Seriously sickening, how sappy we are at the moment. Addicted to the way he feels, tastes, sounds, looks. And am thoroughly delighted as i discover the unknown things about him. It's like a brand new shiney geektoy, only with unlimited orgasams built right in. I don't remember the last time i smiled this much. Or if i ever have. My face aches, and i think my dimples will soon become permanent.
Am considering building a nest on the floor though. This bed makes way too much fucking noise.
But, for now, it is a city like any other, allbeit a fucklot cleaner then most, and filled with friendly folk. Even the accent does not throw me too much; I've lived away from Canada long enough now to no longer dazzled by the fact that i am surrounded by people who can't talk properly :P
And all my nerves? Mostly gone now. Mostly gone about two seconds after "hello" at the airport, in fact. Some residual squickiness stemming from the fact that I'm trying to fit into someone else's life, schedule, and living space...and not always doing a good job. I tend to be a little overwhelming at the best of times, and somehow the presence of nikki tends to leak out and creep all over the place. I leave books and writing paraphenalia all over the house, my girlie things clutter a bathroom in an eyeblink, hippy food appears by magic in the kitchen, i eat in bed and i hog the space. I'm alot to deal with. And i find it hard to minimize the impact.
I'm also a sucker for puppies...and the pup here had that figured out right away. Already he knows I'll sneak him food when no one else is looking, and he will creep into the bedroom for a quick fussing from me even though he knows he's not allowed in there.
I'm not sure what the family thought about having me here on the boi's birthday, either. As well as he and i knew each others from a couple of years of contact, to them it still meant a relative stranger was present during the celebratory stuff.
Maybe i am overthinking. But i've been a lifetime feeling like i don't belong, don't fit in, am not part of the big picture around me. it's a hard sensation to shake off. The temporary nature of my life only accentuates that. Fact is, my stay here is a time limited offer. It becomes necessary to constantly remind myself of that fact, to reign in my imagination a little and keep things in perspective. No matter how right things seem, no matter how blissfull i am...no matter how deeply i fall...all things must come to an end. I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I'm ridiculously in love, and will enjoy every second...but this time next year i will have to say goodbye in a manner so intensely painful i can't fathom it.
On the upside, i had to buy blistex...serious lip dryness from the overload of kissing. A noteable yayness mention also goes to the wonderful stamina of youth. Screw this thing I've had for older men...young manchild types is where it is AT, I'm telling ya! Buger viagra. Early 20-something libedo is the way to go.
Seriously sickening, how sappy we are at the moment. Addicted to the way he feels, tastes, sounds, looks. And am thoroughly delighted as i discover the unknown things about him. It's like a brand new shiney geektoy, only with unlimited orgasams built right in. I don't remember the last time i smiled this much. Or if i ever have. My face aches, and i think my dimples will soon become permanent.
Am considering building a nest on the floor though. This bed makes way too much fucking noise.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Monday, August 09, 2004
The nikki has landed
Back in London once more. Shattered. No sleep since friday night. It is monday now. About to crash out and get some beauty sleep before the big bash tonight. I am sytill a little overwhelmed at the monstrosity that has errupted from what i thought would be a simple little goodbye thing. I'm touched, flattered, and alltogether embarrased by the amount of attention my departure is getting.
I', also nervous beyond all belief about this who affair. My stomach has been doing flip flops since thursday, and i am an odd cross between giddy , frequently breaking out in random "wheeee!"'s that startle anyione around me, and downright scared.
I'm terrified it's all going to go wrong and be a huge dissapointment.
I know thats irrational, but I can't help thinking it all the same.
Mostly its just the good kind of nerves though.
I'm honestly loving every second.
Sleep now.
I', also nervous beyond all belief about this who affair. My stomach has been doing flip flops since thursday, and i am an odd cross between giddy , frequently breaking out in random "wheeee!"'s that startle anyione around me, and downright scared.
I'm terrified it's all going to go wrong and be a huge dissapointment.
I know thats irrational, but I can't help thinking it all the same.
Mostly its just the good kind of nerves though.
I'm honestly loving every second.
Sleep now.
Sunday, August 01, 2004
Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice!
A few mornings ago, i stumble, hungover, bleary-eyed and cranky into the bathroom at stupid o'clock in the morning (ok ok so it was like 9 or something. But when you are out till 5 thats a fucking stupid time to be up. My neice is to blame), curse aloud as i stub my toe and fumble with the shower settings.
Standing in the middle of the room, looking for all the world like the living dead, on my feet but not alert and functioning only on the most basic levels. Waiting for the water temperatures to level out before stepping into the shower.
Try to pull a towel from the shelf, watch helplessly without reacting as the whole stack slips off and cascade onto the floor, in a riot of pastel colours that offends my eyes. Kick them all to one side cause i know if i bend to retrieve them i will wind up on the floor in an ungainly mess of arms and legs.
Once floor space is relatively free of terrycloth, i turn to the shower..glancing down at the floor, the whole scene changes in about 0.002 seconds.
On the floor is a beetle. I don't like bugs. I like bettles even less. I can handle bugs ok, providing i see them well in advance of them reaching me...that is i contain my reaction and can even work up suitable braveness to remove offending creature from premises.
This particular morning, however, my wits are not present.
I squeak, and immediately begin flapping my arms about while squacking and dancing a statico beat on my tippytoes in an effort to avoid the monsterously hideous creature.
The bathroom here is not only tiny, but it was built long after house, and long after plumbing was sorted. Which means the tiny bathroom has three levels of flooring, in order to compensate for the pipework.
In all my flailing about, i had forgotten this fact. I manage to step off the edge of the floor.
Tipping over backwards, it all went wrong. In one of those surreal moment, time slows down and i fall for what seems like forever, waving arms in a blured cartoon fashion in an attempt to counteract the very laws of gravity.
To no avail. I land, arse into the clothing hamper, legs and arms straight up the air, folded over like a giant paperclip. On the plus side, my legs do still fit behind my ears, i discovered.
I actual sit still for a moment, taking in the sound of the shower, ears prickled to see if i have woken others. Then i remember that i am locked alone in the room with what is surely a killer beetle, and my brain becomes more alert.
Must get out of this death trap disguised as a plastic clothing bin.
Easier said then done. I am truely stuck...i cant get purchase on anything, and i cant bend elbows enough to get a grip on the bin to lift myself out.
I would go into a gigglefit at this point, cept i am panicing about the bug getting me. Verging on the hysterical, i force myself to get a grip and think.
Stetching my neck, i can sort of peer around one knee and the ankle of the other foot, lowering my shoulder carefully, and try get a glimpse of the beetle. It is nowhere to be seen, and i feel like a total fool.
Reason has set in once more.
I still need to get myself out of the hamper, though.
The bathroom has begin to fill with steam, and i do relax enough to finally start giggling. I wish i had a camera. Beter yet, i wish i was still living in my previous live feed fully webcammed apartment of a couple years back. Pure gold, this one.
Striking on the solution, i begin rocking back and forth. Tipping side to side 4 or 5 times, i manage to get enough momentum to tip the basket and me over sideways.
Great. Brilliant. Now i am stuck in a plastic bin over on its side, with my face mushed onto the floor, nose pressed sideways in a painful fashion...and i need to pee from all the giggling.
It takes another few minutes of back and forth wiggling before i manage to extract the nikki from the plastic, and dash for the toilet.
Once sitting, relieved to not be peeing on myself, i look down at the floor.
The glossy "beetle" i had spotted that started this whole thing?
Was my own toenail, painted black.
Standing in the middle of the room, looking for all the world like the living dead, on my feet but not alert and functioning only on the most basic levels. Waiting for the water temperatures to level out before stepping into the shower.
Try to pull a towel from the shelf, watch helplessly without reacting as the whole stack slips off and cascade onto the floor, in a riot of pastel colours that offends my eyes. Kick them all to one side cause i know if i bend to retrieve them i will wind up on the floor in an ungainly mess of arms and legs.
Once floor space is relatively free of terrycloth, i turn to the shower..glancing down at the floor, the whole scene changes in about 0.002 seconds.
On the floor is a beetle. I don't like bugs. I like bettles even less. I can handle bugs ok, providing i see them well in advance of them reaching me...that is i contain my reaction and can even work up suitable braveness to remove offending creature from premises.
This particular morning, however, my wits are not present.
I squeak, and immediately begin flapping my arms about while squacking and dancing a statico beat on my tippytoes in an effort to avoid the monsterously hideous creature.
The bathroom here is not only tiny, but it was built long after house, and long after plumbing was sorted. Which means the tiny bathroom has three levels of flooring, in order to compensate for the pipework.
In all my flailing about, i had forgotten this fact. I manage to step off the edge of the floor.
Tipping over backwards, it all went wrong. In one of those surreal moment, time slows down and i fall for what seems like forever, waving arms in a blured cartoon fashion in an attempt to counteract the very laws of gravity.
To no avail. I land, arse into the clothing hamper, legs and arms straight up the air, folded over like a giant paperclip. On the plus side, my legs do still fit behind my ears, i discovered.
I actual sit still for a moment, taking in the sound of the shower, ears prickled to see if i have woken others. Then i remember that i am locked alone in the room with what is surely a killer beetle, and my brain becomes more alert.
Must get out of this death trap disguised as a plastic clothing bin.
Easier said then done. I am truely stuck...i cant get purchase on anything, and i cant bend elbows enough to get a grip on the bin to lift myself out.
I would go into a gigglefit at this point, cept i am panicing about the bug getting me. Verging on the hysterical, i force myself to get a grip and think.
Stetching my neck, i can sort of peer around one knee and the ankle of the other foot, lowering my shoulder carefully, and try get a glimpse of the beetle. It is nowhere to be seen, and i feel like a total fool.
Reason has set in once more.
I still need to get myself out of the hamper, though.
The bathroom has begin to fill with steam, and i do relax enough to finally start giggling. I wish i had a camera. Beter yet, i wish i was still living in my previous live feed fully webcammed apartment of a couple years back. Pure gold, this one.
Striking on the solution, i begin rocking back and forth. Tipping side to side 4 or 5 times, i manage to get enough momentum to tip the basket and me over sideways.
Great. Brilliant. Now i am stuck in a plastic bin over on its side, with my face mushed onto the floor, nose pressed sideways in a painful fashion...and i need to pee from all the giggling.
It takes another few minutes of back and forth wiggling before i manage to extract the nikki from the plastic, and dash for the toilet.
Once sitting, relieved to not be peeing on myself, i look down at the floor.
The glossy "beetle" i had spotted that started this whole thing?
Was my own toenail, painted black.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Anger management 101
Having lived away from home for some 15 years now, I had actually forgotten how my birth family well and truely suck ass.
My relationship with my father has always been a stormy one...I love him fiercely in some ways...but I will never understand the man. We are too different to ever find true common ground other then the accident of blood.
He decided, somehow, in that foggy depths of space between his ears, that a reconcilliation with my stepbrother, my tormentor and abuser through much of my childhood, was in order. A ~surprise~ reconcilliation, at that.
This after years of dad pretending the abuse did not occur, ignoring all mention of it till last week then shocking me with a sudden heart to heart about it, in which i came away shaken, and somewhat relieved to have been able to finally tell him my thoughts on it all. I shared with him how much it fucked with me, mentally, and how long tit took me to oversome the fucked up ideas it left with me regarding sex. Somehow, out of that talk, dad decided that it was time to toss us into a room togteher.
I have not seen the stepbrother for 13 years. With good reason. And on the last occasion, we parted when i threatened to remove a vital part of his anatomy upon next meeting.
Despite all this, we managed, somehow to struggle through a tense yet argument-free meal. After which my father asked me to drive the stepbrother to a store. I was silly enough to agree, despite being scared. Actually, it is probably ~because~ i was scared that i agreed. I am all about overcoming things.
The ride there was silent. The ride back was not. The fucktard actually opened his mouth and made one of the crudest comments he could have mustered to me.
Now, anyone who has seen me truely angry knows to run.
As i said, hes a fucktard. He stayed put. I think, in some really screwy way, he was secure and assured that i would wilt and cower.
A moment later found the car being slammed into park in the middle of the streeet, me rounding the car on foot and physically dragging him from the vehicle. He called me a crazy bitch and tried to cimb back in. There was a brief scuffle, and i won, as he found himself on hands and knees eating a facefull of dirt. He stood up, turned around, and faced me.
Then I broke his nose.
That was unexpected.
I drove off and left him, with traffic stopped several cars deep in each direction, him holding his face and screaming obscenites at me, and my car splattered in his blood.
Back at my fathers, i stormed in, informing him that i was only there to pack and leave, and did so. Crashed with a cousin for the night. Immediately upon arriving at hers, i went to the toilet and proceeded to puke my guts out. When there was nothing left in me and the worst of the shakes were gone, so i was able to stand again, we got stupid drunk and washed down the car with buckets of soapy water.
My father arrived, explained he had driven off to pick up the stepbrother and deposited him at a friends house, in an attempt to convince me to return to his for the night after profuse apologizing - not for throwing us into a ring together...but apologized for asking me to give hima ride!
I refused, and he left. I went back to his for breakfast the next morning before spitting town. WE talked, but he was still uinable to see that i will NEVER be able to "get on" with him. I am, frankly, blown away that my dad would think this possible in any way.
And i am also reminded of how very alone we are in this world.
I remain, several days later, mixed about everything. I am, admitedly, proud, and smug about standing up to him. I am also feeling guilty, that, yet again, my responce was violence. I have a pattern of being backed into a corner and to come out swinging. Surely there are more productive ways of dealing with problems then maiming other people? I'm tired of being on the definsive, yet glad that i don't wither in the face of threat.
If someone else told me they had physically assulted someone who abused them as a child, i know i would stand and cheer. I have zero sympathy for the abuser in all this. And time does not cover all.
For the record, the abuse eventually ended when i turned on him physically then as well. But there was still something far more empowering about smacking him a good one while an adult, and with a definte measure of free will. As a child, i was merely fighting back. This time, i ~could~ have walked away, unharmed, but chose instead to not let it slide.
But i still wonder if i would have been better off turning and walking away when my father proudly announced we were both there to make nicey nicey.
My relationship with my father has always been a stormy one...I love him fiercely in some ways...but I will never understand the man. We are too different to ever find true common ground other then the accident of blood.
He decided, somehow, in that foggy depths of space between his ears, that a reconcilliation with my stepbrother, my tormentor and abuser through much of my childhood, was in order. A ~surprise~ reconcilliation, at that.
This after years of dad pretending the abuse did not occur, ignoring all mention of it till last week then shocking me with a sudden heart to heart about it, in which i came away shaken, and somewhat relieved to have been able to finally tell him my thoughts on it all. I shared with him how much it fucked with me, mentally, and how long tit took me to oversome the fucked up ideas it left with me regarding sex. Somehow, out of that talk, dad decided that it was time to toss us into a room togteher.
I have not seen the stepbrother for 13 years. With good reason. And on the last occasion, we parted when i threatened to remove a vital part of his anatomy upon next meeting.
Despite all this, we managed, somehow to struggle through a tense yet argument-free meal. After which my father asked me to drive the stepbrother to a store. I was silly enough to agree, despite being scared. Actually, it is probably ~because~ i was scared that i agreed. I am all about overcoming things.
The ride there was silent. The ride back was not. The fucktard actually opened his mouth and made one of the crudest comments he could have mustered to me.
Now, anyone who has seen me truely angry knows to run.
As i said, hes a fucktard. He stayed put. I think, in some really screwy way, he was secure and assured that i would wilt and cower.
A moment later found the car being slammed into park in the middle of the streeet, me rounding the car on foot and physically dragging him from the vehicle. He called me a crazy bitch and tried to cimb back in. There was a brief scuffle, and i won, as he found himself on hands and knees eating a facefull of dirt. He stood up, turned around, and faced me.
Then I broke his nose.
That was unexpected.
I drove off and left him, with traffic stopped several cars deep in each direction, him holding his face and screaming obscenites at me, and my car splattered in his blood.
Back at my fathers, i stormed in, informing him that i was only there to pack and leave, and did so. Crashed with a cousin for the night. Immediately upon arriving at hers, i went to the toilet and proceeded to puke my guts out. When there was nothing left in me and the worst of the shakes were gone, so i was able to stand again, we got stupid drunk and washed down the car with buckets of soapy water.
My father arrived, explained he had driven off to pick up the stepbrother and deposited him at a friends house, in an attempt to convince me to return to his for the night after profuse apologizing - not for throwing us into a ring together...but apologized for asking me to give hima ride!
I refused, and he left. I went back to his for breakfast the next morning before spitting town. WE talked, but he was still uinable to see that i will NEVER be able to "get on" with him. I am, frankly, blown away that my dad would think this possible in any way.
And i am also reminded of how very alone we are in this world.
I remain, several days later, mixed about everything. I am, admitedly, proud, and smug about standing up to him. I am also feeling guilty, that, yet again, my responce was violence. I have a pattern of being backed into a corner and to come out swinging. Surely there are more productive ways of dealing with problems then maiming other people? I'm tired of being on the definsive, yet glad that i don't wither in the face of threat.
If someone else told me they had physically assulted someone who abused them as a child, i know i would stand and cheer. I have zero sympathy for the abuser in all this. And time does not cover all.
For the record, the abuse eventually ended when i turned on him physically then as well. But there was still something far more empowering about smacking him a good one while an adult, and with a definte measure of free will. As a child, i was merely fighting back. This time, i ~could~ have walked away, unharmed, but chose instead to not let it slide.
But i still wonder if i would have been better off turning and walking away when my father proudly announced we were both there to make nicey nicey.
Monday, July 26, 2004
RULES
- Italicize what you've seen part of.
- Bold what you've seen all the way through.
- Underline what you own.
- Add three of your own.
01. Trainspotting
02. Shrek
03. M
04. Dogma
05. Strictly Ballroom
06. The Princess Bride
07. Love Actually
08. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
09. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
10. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
11. Reservoir Dogs
12. Desperado
13. Swordfish
14. Kill Bill Vol. 1
15. Donnie Darko
16. Spirited Away
17. Better Than Sex
18. Sleepy Hollow
19. Pirates of the Caribbean
20. The Eye
21. Requiem for a Dream
22. Dawn of the Dead
23. The Pillow Book
24. The Italian Job
25. Goonies
26. BASEketball
27. Spiceworld
28. Army of Darkness
29. The Color Purple
30. The Saftey of Objects
31. Can't Hardly Wait
32. Mystic Pizza
33. Finding Nemo
34. Monsters Inc.
35. Circle of Friends
36. Mary Poppins
37. The Bourne Identity
38. Forrest Gump
39. A Clockwork Orange
40. Kindergarten Cop
41. On The Line
42. My Big Fat Greek Wedding
43. Final Destination
44. Sorority Boys
45. Urban Legend
46. Cheaper by the Dozen
47. Fierce Creatures
48. Dude, Where's My Car
49. Ladyhawke
50. Ghostbusters
51. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
52. Back to the Future
53. An Affair To Remember
54. Somewhere In Time
55. North By Northwest
56. Moulin Rouge
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
58. The Wizard of Oz
59. Zoolander
60. A Walk to Remember
61. Chicago
62. Vanilla Sky
63. The Sweetest Thing
64. Don't Tell Mom the Babysitters Dead
65. The Nightmare Before Christmas
66. Chasing Amy
67. Edward Scissorhands
68. Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert
69. Muriel's Wedding
70. Croupier
71. Blade Runner
72. Cruel Intentions
73. Ocean's Eleven
74. Magnolia
75. Fight Club
76. Beauty and The Beast
77. Much Ado About Nothing
78. Dirty Dancing
79. Gladiator
80. Ever After
81. Braveheart
82. What Lies Beneath
83. Regarding Henry
84. The Dark Crystal
85. Star Wars
86. The Birds
87. Beaches
88. Cujo
89. Maid In Manhattan
90. Labyrinth
91. Thoroughly Modern Millie
92. His Girl Friday
93. Chocolat
94. Independence Day
95. Singing in the Rain
96. Big Fish
97. The Thomas Crown Affair
98. The Matrix
99. Stargate
100. A Hard Day's Night
101. About A Boy
102. Jurassic Park
103. Life of Brian
104. Dune
105. Event Horizon
106. Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
107. Dead Fire
108. The Neverending Story
109. Resident Evil
110. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider
111. Pure Country
112. The Evil Dead
113. The Stand
114. Head
115. Shoujo Kakumei Utena: ADOLESCENCE Mokushiroku
116. The Ghost Goes Gear
117. Perfect Blue
118. Bring It On
119. Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' on Heaven's Door
120. The Boondock Saints
121. Alien
122. Howard the Duck
123. Star Trek: The Voyage home
124. Vampire Hunter
125. Soylent Green
126. The Craft
127. The Philadelphia Story
128. LA Confidential
129. Eating Raoul
130. Donovan's Reef
131. The Last of the Blonde Bombshells
132. Princess Mononoke
133. Disney's Mulan
134. The Ring
135. The Crow
136. A Beautiful Mind
137. This Is Spinal Tap
138. Amelie
139. Ten Things I Hate About You
140. Fried Green Tomatoes
141. Goodbye Lenin
142. Grease
143. Mallrats
144. My Fair Lady
145. Pulp Fiction
146. Master & Commander: The Far Side of The World
147. American Beauty
148. Monster
149. The Breakfast Club
150. Stuart Little
151. The Sting
152. The Lion King
153. The Virgin Suicides
154. Pretty In Pink
155. Rocky Horror Picture Show
156. The Shawshank Redemption
157. Night At the Roxbury
158. Gangs of New York
159. Schindlers List
160. Philadelphia
161. The Tommyknockers
162. American Wedding
163. Meet The Parents
164. Serial Mom
165. Run Lola Run
166. Porky's
167. Mulholland Drive
168. Talk To Her
169. All About My Mother
170. Bridget Jones's Diary
171. 9 to 5
172. Heathers
173.Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind
174. Willow
175. Hackers
176 Citizen Kane
177 Memento
178 Better then Chocolate
- Italicize what you've seen part of.
- Bold what you've seen all the way through.
- Underline what you own.
- Add three of your own.
01. Trainspotting
02. Shrek
03. M
04. Dogma
05. Strictly Ballroom
06. The Princess Bride
07. Love Actually
08. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
09. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
10. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
11. Reservoir Dogs
12. Desperado
13. Swordfish
14. Kill Bill Vol. 1
15. Donnie Darko
16. Spirited Away
17. Better Than Sex
18. Sleepy Hollow
19. Pirates of the Caribbean
20. The Eye
21. Requiem for a Dream
22. Dawn of the Dead
23. The Pillow Book
24. The Italian Job
25. Goonies
26. BASEketball
27. Spiceworld
28. Army of Darkness
29. The Color Purple
30. The Saftey of Objects
31. Can't Hardly Wait
32. Mystic Pizza
33. Finding Nemo
34. Monsters Inc.
35. Circle of Friends
36. Mary Poppins
37. The Bourne Identity
38. Forrest Gump
39. A Clockwork Orange
40. Kindergarten Cop
41. On The Line
42. My Big Fat Greek Wedding
43. Final Destination
44. Sorority Boys
45. Urban Legend
46. Cheaper by the Dozen
47. Fierce Creatures
48. Dude, Where's My Car
49. Ladyhawke
50. Ghostbusters
51. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
52. Back to the Future
53. An Affair To Remember
54. Somewhere In Time
55. North By Northwest
56. Moulin Rouge
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
58. The Wizard of Oz
59. Zoolander
60. A Walk to Remember
61. Chicago
62. Vanilla Sky
63. The Sweetest Thing
64. Don't Tell Mom the Babysitters Dead
65. The Nightmare Before Christmas
66. Chasing Amy
67. Edward Scissorhands
68. Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert
69. Muriel's Wedding
70. Croupier
71. Blade Runner
72. Cruel Intentions
73. Ocean's Eleven
74. Magnolia
75. Fight Club
76. Beauty and The Beast
77. Much Ado About Nothing
78. Dirty Dancing
79. Gladiator
80. Ever After
81. Braveheart
82. What Lies Beneath
83. Regarding Henry
84. The Dark Crystal
85. Star Wars
86. The Birds
87. Beaches
88. Cujo
89. Maid In Manhattan
90. Labyrinth
91. Thoroughly Modern Millie
92. His Girl Friday
93. Chocolat
94. Independence Day
95. Singing in the Rain
96. Big Fish
97. The Thomas Crown Affair
98. The Matrix
99. Stargate
100. A Hard Day's Night
101. About A Boy
102. Jurassic Park
103. Life of Brian
104. Dune
105. Event Horizon
106. Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
107. Dead Fire
108. The Neverending Story
109. Resident Evil
110. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider
111. Pure Country
112. The Evil Dead
113. The Stand
114. Head
115. Shoujo Kakumei Utena: ADOLESCENCE Mokushiroku
116. The Ghost Goes Gear
117. Perfect Blue
118. Bring It On
119. Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' on Heaven's Door
120. The Boondock Saints
121. Alien
122. Howard the Duck
123. Star Trek: The Voyage home
124. Vampire Hunter
125. Soylent Green
126. The Craft
127. The Philadelphia Story
128. LA Confidential
129. Eating Raoul
130. Donovan's Reef
131. The Last of the Blonde Bombshells
132. Princess Mononoke
133. Disney's Mulan
134. The Ring
135. The Crow
136. A Beautiful Mind
137. This Is Spinal Tap
138. Amelie
139. Ten Things I Hate About You
140. Fried Green Tomatoes
141. Goodbye Lenin
142. Grease
143. Mallrats
144. My Fair Lady
145. Pulp Fiction
146. Master & Commander: The Far Side of The World
147. American Beauty
148. Monster
149. The Breakfast Club
150. Stuart Little
151. The Sting
152. The Lion King
153. The Virgin Suicides
154. Pretty In Pink
155. Rocky Horror Picture Show
156. The Shawshank Redemption
157. Night At the Roxbury
158. Gangs of New York
159. Schindlers List
160. Philadelphia
161. The Tommyknockers
162. American Wedding
163. Meet The Parents
164. Serial Mom
165. Run Lola Run
166. Porky's
167. Mulholland Drive
168. Talk To Her
169. All About My Mother
170. Bridget Jones's Diary
171. 9 to 5
172. Heathers
173.Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind
174. Willow
175. Hackers
176 Citizen Kane
177 Memento
178 Better then Chocolate
Monday, July 19, 2004
Salmonfest 2004
Centennial feild, Grand Falls, Newfoundland. I'm penning this sprawled on a blanket, in a tangle of limbs and much giggling. I have the dubious honour of being chaperone to my 16 year old neice and her 4 friends, who all wanted to made the trip into the summer event of the province, and all-day concert, but whose parents decreed an adult must be present before they would give permission. Somehow, i met with parental approval as a passable adult, and also, am cool enough to be acceptable by the kids as well. Go, me. Foolish parents.
The normally hour long drive took 2.5 hours, due to high traffic for the event, slowed further by summer road construction. On the plus side, there was no opportunity to speed, therefore negating the chance of a repeat speeding ticket ( my second ticket being aquired the day previous. And, since it was my second in 6 months, i lose a shedload of license points and face a massively heartbreakingly hefty finacial fee to boot). It also meant a most amusing game of car leapfrog with a carload of cute 20 something boys, which delighted the girls to no end, as they spend the time passing me with windows rolled down trying to attract my attention/aquire a name and phone number/ generally show off as boys are wont to do. "Oh my god, Danny, your aunt is soooo cool...they are flirting! And she's flirting back!". (Jump ahead a little ; got more bonus cool factor points midafternoon, when it turns out I knew one of the featured musicians, found him after his set and draged him back to our blanket to meet the girls and sign autographs.)
The boys followed us to a coffeeshop and found me again at the concert (no easy feat, as the feild normally has upwards of 15,000 bodies), and are now milling about on a couple of blankets nearby, taking turns at making trips into the beer tent, coming back louder each time. Thye are being cool though, and playing nicey with the girls, who are thrilled by the attention from older guys. They've spent much of the day trying to convince me to join them at an after concert party at a nearby campground, and have even gone so far as to arrange alternate transport for the girls back to town so i can stay.
In the end, they settled for a promise of a after concert trip to McDonalds, combined with details of my dancing plans at a local bar next weekend. All in all, i had far more fun playing chaperone then i thought i would.
The normally hour long drive took 2.5 hours, due to high traffic for the event, slowed further by summer road construction. On the plus side, there was no opportunity to speed, therefore negating the chance of a repeat speeding ticket ( my second ticket being aquired the day previous. And, since it was my second in 6 months, i lose a shedload of license points and face a massively heartbreakingly hefty finacial fee to boot). It also meant a most amusing game of car leapfrog with a carload of cute 20 something boys, which delighted the girls to no end, as they spend the time passing me with windows rolled down trying to attract my attention/aquire a name and phone number/ generally show off as boys are wont to do. "Oh my god, Danny, your aunt is soooo cool...they are flirting! And she's flirting back!". (Jump ahead a little ; got more bonus cool factor points midafternoon, when it turns out I knew one of the featured musicians, found him after his set and draged him back to our blanket to meet the girls and sign autographs.)
The boys followed us to a coffeeshop and found me again at the concert (no easy feat, as the feild normally has upwards of 15,000 bodies), and are now milling about on a couple of blankets nearby, taking turns at making trips into the beer tent, coming back louder each time. Thye are being cool though, and playing nicey with the girls, who are thrilled by the attention from older guys. They've spent much of the day trying to convince me to join them at an after concert party at a nearby campground, and have even gone so far as to arrange alternate transport for the girls back to town so i can stay.
In the end, they settled for a promise of a after concert trip to McDonalds, combined with details of my dancing plans at a local bar next weekend. All in all, i had far more fun playing chaperone then i thought i would.
Sleepover
From paper journal, Wensday, July 14th.
_____________________________________
What a strange evening. Addrienne and I stopped at my father's overnight, enroute to St. Johns. Always a lesson in patience, time spent with my dad...and always a lesson I fail to absorb, it seems. Arrived at 6pm, bored out of our skulls by 8 pm. The non-stop lecturing (that crossed dangerously close into all-out insult) did not help any either. Apparently, this Australia trip "tops all my other insane decisions to date". This includes (amongst other older infractions too far gone in memory to relive here); my marriage, my girlfriend, my tattoo's/piercings/brandings, and my intersts in BDSM. Funny thing is, I know i have made far worse decisions in my past, and none of the aforementioned things qualify as mistakes.
After not-so-poitely telling him to cram his unasked-for opinions up his holy ass, I proceeded to ignore him till he gave in. Though this rudeness on my part kicked in only after several hours of smiling and nodding or trying to joke him into a lighter mood, i still wound up kicking myself in the ass for it later. It bothers me that time spent with my dad reduces me to a screaming child, and i lose all ability to talk as a rational adult, and instead, go on the defensive and throw a hissyfit.
Not wanting to risk more nastiness later, i made the decision to hide behind the guise of wanting to be silly and relive my youth by borrowing a tent from my Aunt's place and camping out in the backyard. Dad good naturedly put the anger aside and helped addrienne and i set it up, and gave us a flashlight to ward off the boogeyman. (As an aside, I always thought the name "boogeyman" a silly term for something that is supposed to be scarey; I remember wanting to encounter this creature when i was small cause boogie also means snot which is funny and not at all scarey, but in addition, it means dancing, and i therefore surmrised that he'd be a pretty fun dude).
Made a trip to the liquor store for wine, and got asked for ID. It is amusing to me that I am nearly 31 and still, had to go back to the car and have my girlfriend, several years my junior, go and buy me alcohol. It just adds to the whole juvinille theme i have going lately. I wonder if i am having my mid life crisis now?
Grabbed a few minutes alone with dad, and wound up having THE most raw, painfully emotional open and bluntly honest conversations i have ever had. I'll be processing this one for many months to come.
After dark, Addrienne and I decided that a walk into the old swimming hole upriver was in order. The normally 4 minute walk up the trail took about a half hour. The flashlight guided walk in the beyond-pitch-black moonless night meant much stoppage so we could squeal and dance about and nearly piss ourselves in fright in every tiny sound or flicker in the reputably bear-inhabited woods. Once we found the spot (not an easy feat when its dark, and I'd not been there in more then a decade), we sat silently for 20 min or so, making absolutely certain we were alone before stripping off and jumping in. If there WERE bears? They were surely frightened off by the screams and howls from the shock of the cold water.
Eventually made our way back home (running throught the forest clutching each other, pellmell on hyperdrive, arriving out the other end in about a minute thirty, dried down, nd decided to top off the night by removing the weather fly from the tent, and lying inside looking up throught the mesh top at the star filled sky. In true naughty teenager fashion, we rounded outt he experience by drinking crappy assed bottles of fruity cheap wine....straight from the bottles. Several hours of mad giggling and numerous trips back into the skeery woods for pee breaks and we finally passed out just before dawn.
Packed up tent and left in morning before dad returned home to lunch, leaving a note to say I would drop in later in the week.
Interesting though, that my father, the married minister who is several times over a grandfather might have issues with such things as my choice in sexual partners, but he has no problem whatsoever with hitting repeatedly on my girlfriend.
I don't know if i will ever recover.
_____________________________________
What a strange evening. Addrienne and I stopped at my father's overnight, enroute to St. Johns. Always a lesson in patience, time spent with my dad...and always a lesson I fail to absorb, it seems. Arrived at 6pm, bored out of our skulls by 8 pm. The non-stop lecturing (that crossed dangerously close into all-out insult) did not help any either. Apparently, this Australia trip "tops all my other insane decisions to date". This includes (amongst other older infractions too far gone in memory to relive here); my marriage, my girlfriend, my tattoo's/piercings/brandings, and my intersts in BDSM. Funny thing is, I know i have made far worse decisions in my past, and none of the aforementioned things qualify as mistakes.
After not-so-poitely telling him to cram his unasked-for opinions up his holy ass, I proceeded to ignore him till he gave in. Though this rudeness on my part kicked in only after several hours of smiling and nodding or trying to joke him into a lighter mood, i still wound up kicking myself in the ass for it later. It bothers me that time spent with my dad reduces me to a screaming child, and i lose all ability to talk as a rational adult, and instead, go on the defensive and throw a hissyfit.
Not wanting to risk more nastiness later, i made the decision to hide behind the guise of wanting to be silly and relive my youth by borrowing a tent from my Aunt's place and camping out in the backyard. Dad good naturedly put the anger aside and helped addrienne and i set it up, and gave us a flashlight to ward off the boogeyman. (As an aside, I always thought the name "boogeyman" a silly term for something that is supposed to be scarey; I remember wanting to encounter this creature when i was small cause boogie also means snot which is funny and not at all scarey, but in addition, it means dancing, and i therefore surmrised that he'd be a pretty fun dude).
Made a trip to the liquor store for wine, and got asked for ID. It is amusing to me that I am nearly 31 and still, had to go back to the car and have my girlfriend, several years my junior, go and buy me alcohol. It just adds to the whole juvinille theme i have going lately. I wonder if i am having my mid life crisis now?
Grabbed a few minutes alone with dad, and wound up having THE most raw, painfully emotional open and bluntly honest conversations i have ever had. I'll be processing this one for many months to come.
After dark, Addrienne and I decided that a walk into the old swimming hole upriver was in order. The normally 4 minute walk up the trail took about a half hour. The flashlight guided walk in the beyond-pitch-black moonless night meant much stoppage so we could squeal and dance about and nearly piss ourselves in fright in every tiny sound or flicker in the reputably bear-inhabited woods. Once we found the spot (not an easy feat when its dark, and I'd not been there in more then a decade), we sat silently for 20 min or so, making absolutely certain we were alone before stripping off and jumping in. If there WERE bears? They were surely frightened off by the screams and howls from the shock of the cold water.
Eventually made our way back home (running throught the forest clutching each other, pellmell on hyperdrive, arriving out the other end in about a minute thirty, dried down, nd decided to top off the night by removing the weather fly from the tent, and lying inside looking up throught the mesh top at the star filled sky. In true naughty teenager fashion, we rounded outt he experience by drinking crappy assed bottles of fruity cheap wine....straight from the bottles. Several hours of mad giggling and numerous trips back into the skeery woods for pee breaks and we finally passed out just before dawn.
Packed up tent and left in morning before dad returned home to lunch, leaving a note to say I would drop in later in the week.
Interesting though, that my father, the married minister who is several times over a grandfather might have issues with such things as my choice in sexual partners, but he has no problem whatsoever with hitting repeatedly on my girlfriend.
I don't know if i will ever recover.
Friday, July 09, 2004
Fog + Fever = Zen
A strange calmness has decended, and I'm not exactly sure what to make of it. I feel ballanced, centered, once more. For the first time in over a year, i feel utterly at peace with everything.
I've spent a few days alone in my thoughts now, time to regroup and reshuffle, organize the mess that was in my head. Long walks, views of the ocean that i have missed so much. Fog. My god, how much i love the fog. Spending a few days at Pats, which has meant quiet, and "me" time.I've been reading and sleeping at random moments through the day as the whim takes me, and it's all help restore a sense of internal harmony.
Was sick for a few days, and running a fever, which explains the random sleeping patterns. Also led to some fucky dreams and fevered over-thinking, which resulted in a remarkable moment of clarity at one point, wherein suddenly all my second guessing., self doubting and panic just lifted...i could sense it just melting away. And its not returned. All he anxiousness i was feeling about my recent decisions, about the upcoming trip, and about where i go from here...gone.
A consious decision to stop fussing and worying about what MIGHT be, and to instad just let whatever will be happen, naturally. I've been wracking my brain, trying to imagine every ppossible outcome as though my life were a chose-your-own adventure story, and becoming increasingly frustrated with my inability to jump ahead and read the last page. And suddenly i remembered how reading the last page first always spoiles large aspects of the story. It is the unknown, the unpredicted...the twists that make the story worth telling.
It's a thing more people should do, really...just let go and trust that whatever the outcome, it wil be the right one of it's own virtue.
I've spent a few days alone in my thoughts now, time to regroup and reshuffle, organize the mess that was in my head. Long walks, views of the ocean that i have missed so much. Fog. My god, how much i love the fog. Spending a few days at Pats, which has meant quiet, and "me" time.I've been reading and sleeping at random moments through the day as the whim takes me, and it's all help restore a sense of internal harmony.
Was sick for a few days, and running a fever, which explains the random sleeping patterns. Also led to some fucky dreams and fevered over-thinking, which resulted in a remarkable moment of clarity at one point, wherein suddenly all my second guessing., self doubting and panic just lifted...i could sense it just melting away. And its not returned. All he anxiousness i was feeling about my recent decisions, about the upcoming trip, and about where i go from here...gone.
A consious decision to stop fussing and worying about what MIGHT be, and to instad just let whatever will be happen, naturally. I've been wracking my brain, trying to imagine every ppossible outcome as though my life were a chose-your-own adventure story, and becoming increasingly frustrated with my inability to jump ahead and read the last page. And suddenly i remembered how reading the last page first always spoiles large aspects of the story. It is the unknown, the unpredicted...the twists that make the story worth telling.
It's a thing more people should do, really...just let go and trust that whatever the outcome, it wil be the right one of it's own virtue.
Friday, July 02, 2004
Reflection
Doctor’s appointment downtown meant an early rise for me today. Walking the waterfront when alone is so intensely peaceful. Foghorn blaring periodically to cut the silence. Water like glass, without even a tiny ripple. Fog hovering about 30 feet in the air, enough to give me a view of the masts of a fishing boat off in the distance.
Being here always makes me smile, and gives me a general sense of the fuzzies.
I also, despite being with my boys, people I care about so intensely, feel acutely lonely lately. In part due to so many changes in my life; the redefining of relationships with people I have been cleft to for so long. It's not a new thing. For a few years now I have felt alone, even when surrounded by loved ones. It's like there is a barrier of glass; I know its there, but I can't find it.
If I could I'd take a bloody pickaxe out and pulverize the fucking thing.
Part of me is coming to realize that the walls of glass are likely things of my own design. And that the thing I yearn for does not exist. That intangible connection so deep that it is impossible in practice. Something I conjured up in the haze of a dream and steadfastly refused to let die with morning light. Unrequitable perfection.
Entirely unfair, if I dwell on that thought. Can't help but to wonder how many times I have been holding up that dream in an unfair comparison, a measure by which to rate all others. The setting of an absurd standard.
What if this is all there is? It is a thought that has plagued me near constantly for some time now. My inner demon battles the happiness to be found in front of my face; brandishing the sword of futile longing as though gratification might actually be possible.
I've felt this lonely once before. Al through my childhood I lived certain in the knowledge that I was utterly alone, when one really examined it. No one understood, then, all that I was, either. People may, indeed, love the Me They Know. But I have never genuinely shared with another being all of me. The risk in that is far too great.
I am beginning to understand that it is not only unfair, but in fact, it is entirely unrealistic of me to hope for a person who meshes with all of me. I've been so close to perfect happiness so many times, and manage to always find some flaw; something lacking. I’ve teased myself before with the hope of something that, in the end, proves evasive.
And the dilemma remains; do I lower the bar of exalted standards, and accept that the completeness I seek is a fantasy? Or do I swallow the self imposed isolation, resign myself to its familiar ache and step ahead, searching for the unobtainable?
A bond, so complete, that remains, as always, just out of reach. I was once told " you will never stop asking "what's the point?", but, someday, you will stop expecting an answer". It's not yet 'someday'. I dearly want an answer.
Being here always makes me smile, and gives me a general sense of the fuzzies.
I also, despite being with my boys, people I care about so intensely, feel acutely lonely lately. In part due to so many changes in my life; the redefining of relationships with people I have been cleft to for so long. It's not a new thing. For a few years now I have felt alone, even when surrounded by loved ones. It's like there is a barrier of glass; I know its there, but I can't find it.
If I could I'd take a bloody pickaxe out and pulverize the fucking thing.
Part of me is coming to realize that the walls of glass are likely things of my own design. And that the thing I yearn for does not exist. That intangible connection so deep that it is impossible in practice. Something I conjured up in the haze of a dream and steadfastly refused to let die with morning light. Unrequitable perfection.
Entirely unfair, if I dwell on that thought. Can't help but to wonder how many times I have been holding up that dream in an unfair comparison, a measure by which to rate all others. The setting of an absurd standard.
What if this is all there is? It is a thought that has plagued me near constantly for some time now. My inner demon battles the happiness to be found in front of my face; brandishing the sword of futile longing as though gratification might actually be possible.
I've felt this lonely once before. Al through my childhood I lived certain in the knowledge that I was utterly alone, when one really examined it. No one understood, then, all that I was, either. People may, indeed, love the Me They Know. But I have never genuinely shared with another being all of me. The risk in that is far too great.
I am beginning to understand that it is not only unfair, but in fact, it is entirely unrealistic of me to hope for a person who meshes with all of me. I've been so close to perfect happiness so many times, and manage to always find some flaw; something lacking. I’ve teased myself before with the hope of something that, in the end, proves evasive.
And the dilemma remains; do I lower the bar of exalted standards, and accept that the completeness I seek is a fantasy? Or do I swallow the self imposed isolation, resign myself to its familiar ache and step ahead, searching for the unobtainable?
A bond, so complete, that remains, as always, just out of reach. I was once told " you will never stop asking "what's the point?", but, someday, you will stop expecting an answer". It's not yet 'someday'. I dearly want an answer.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
And the times...they are a'changin.
Well...it's almost done now. In a couple of hours i set off for the ferry to England, and after a weekend of more goodbyes, I will set off for Canada for the month of July and then some, befoire hopping a flight back to London for another brief layover enroute to Australia in mid-August.
Was schedulled to go in October, but a bunch of changed circumstances and a rising sense of impatience all combined to make me decide not to come back to norway only to wait around for a fall departure. Waiting. I've spent so much of my life in stasis, dormant and waiting for shite to happen. Made the decision to force feed this seed and see what comes out of it.
The flights were changed only two days ago, prompting a flurry of packing and mad panic that ensued with the effort. Two days to pack up a lifetime of memories. Little time to reminice as shite had to be sorted, which required me getting veyr hardassed and making decisions on the fly. I loved it, really. Exhillerating. One large dufflebag of winters clothing which Duane will take back to Canada for storage for me, and one huge box and two backpacks going with me to England, all to be repacked when i claim the luggage left elsewhere. This is the problem with being a gypsy-my stuff is scattered all over the globe.
The really hard part was what was left last night when said two levels of packing was complete. The leftovers that had to be sifted, sorted and discarded. Duane was nice and told me to leave it and he would deal. But i could not bear the thought of us leaving ( the flatmate is heading to England with me for the weekend), and Duane being left alone to sort though the reaminders and reminders of me. Overwhelmingly sad thought, so last night found me up till ridiculous hours baggin up things for disposal. But it's done. The room that had been mine for the past while is now annonymous once more. So he won't be left having to relive memories while he sorts through bits of me.
The other sucky part aboiut the past two days have been the goodbyes. I thought i was sneakilly avoiding those teary goodbye scenes i hate so much but skipping out of town wearly without teling people. Unfortunately, the flatmate let it slip and word spread quickly. So people have been dropping by for that one last coffee and a chat and I've had to do the goodbye thing way more then is healthy. This has long been an issue of mine. While i am delighted to be picked up at airports, i'm fairly fucking adamant about not letting loved ones drop me off when I leave. It's yet another avoidance tactic. Pretend it's all not happening, yanno? I'd much rahter walk out of the house waving a casual "seeya later" then a quiet reflective ride to an airport and a tear filled goodbye under the scrutiny of strangers. In a house you can pretend the parting is a causal breif dash out. In an airport there is no mistaking the fact, whilst surrounded by my possessions, that I am well and truely leaving.
To make matters worse, there will be two goodbyes for Duane. One today, when i go and he realistically knows that this is it, I won't be coming back here ever again. And another in August, as he is joining me home in Canada in late July. That one will be much worse, as it will come on the tail end of a two week visit with our friends and family, some of whom don't knwo as he has been opposed to telling them until a divorce is finallzed. All those familiar people and surroundings are sure to make the goodbye a little bote bittersweet when it comes.
These are major goodbyes for me- the signalling of somehting truely monumental in my life- the first time i set off on my own as an adult. I was kicked out at 16, but have not, since then, really made any important sort of decision entirely for me, irregardless of how it may affect others in my life.
And I am terrified. Excited, yes, but terrified. Scared I will get to the comfort of home, in the arms of people i love and trust, and just freeze in the headlights of life, to scared to take that next step into the great unknown. While the dare, the risk i look forward to taking has so much appeal, I wonder what happens if the seduction of familiarity lures me in and won't let go.
Was schedulled to go in October, but a bunch of changed circumstances and a rising sense of impatience all combined to make me decide not to come back to norway only to wait around for a fall departure. Waiting. I've spent so much of my life in stasis, dormant and waiting for shite to happen. Made the decision to force feed this seed and see what comes out of it.
The flights were changed only two days ago, prompting a flurry of packing and mad panic that ensued with the effort. Two days to pack up a lifetime of memories. Little time to reminice as shite had to be sorted, which required me getting veyr hardassed and making decisions on the fly. I loved it, really. Exhillerating. One large dufflebag of winters clothing which Duane will take back to Canada for storage for me, and one huge box and two backpacks going with me to England, all to be repacked when i claim the luggage left elsewhere. This is the problem with being a gypsy-my stuff is scattered all over the globe.
The really hard part was what was left last night when said two levels of packing was complete. The leftovers that had to be sifted, sorted and discarded. Duane was nice and told me to leave it and he would deal. But i could not bear the thought of us leaving ( the flatmate is heading to England with me for the weekend), and Duane being left alone to sort though the reaminders and reminders of me. Overwhelmingly sad thought, so last night found me up till ridiculous hours baggin up things for disposal. But it's done. The room that had been mine for the past while is now annonymous once more. So he won't be left having to relive memories while he sorts through bits of me.
The other sucky part aboiut the past two days have been the goodbyes. I thought i was sneakilly avoiding those teary goodbye scenes i hate so much but skipping out of town wearly without teling people. Unfortunately, the flatmate let it slip and word spread quickly. So people have been dropping by for that one last coffee and a chat and I've had to do the goodbye thing way more then is healthy. This has long been an issue of mine. While i am delighted to be picked up at airports, i'm fairly fucking adamant about not letting loved ones drop me off when I leave. It's yet another avoidance tactic. Pretend it's all not happening, yanno? I'd much rahter walk out of the house waving a casual "seeya later" then a quiet reflective ride to an airport and a tear filled goodbye under the scrutiny of strangers. In a house you can pretend the parting is a causal breif dash out. In an airport there is no mistaking the fact, whilst surrounded by my possessions, that I am well and truely leaving.
To make matters worse, there will be two goodbyes for Duane. One today, when i go and he realistically knows that this is it, I won't be coming back here ever again. And another in August, as he is joining me home in Canada in late July. That one will be much worse, as it will come on the tail end of a two week visit with our friends and family, some of whom don't knwo as he has been opposed to telling them until a divorce is finallzed. All those familiar people and surroundings are sure to make the goodbye a little bote bittersweet when it comes.
These are major goodbyes for me- the signalling of somehting truely monumental in my life- the first time i set off on my own as an adult. I was kicked out at 16, but have not, since then, really made any important sort of decision entirely for me, irregardless of how it may affect others in my life.
And I am terrified. Excited, yes, but terrified. Scared I will get to the comfort of home, in the arms of people i love and trust, and just freeze in the headlights of life, to scared to take that next step into the great unknown. While the dare, the risk i look forward to taking has so much appeal, I wonder what happens if the seduction of familiarity lures me in and won't let go.
Friday, June 18, 2004
Stoooooooooooooopid.
Stupid;
Slow to learn or understand; obtuse.
Tending to make poor decisions or careless mistakes.
Marked by a lack of intelligence or care; foolish or careless: a stupid mistake.
Dazed, stunned, or stupefied.
Pointless; worthless: a stupid job.
An entire day of my life trying to set a single image as a background that does not tile in Dreamweaver. That's time I will never get back, yanno. A whole day wherein all I suceeded in doing was frustrating myself (and others, with my questions and bickering) to the point that I had to admit defeat because I am too fucking dumb to make a silly little computer progrma to a simple function that I KNOW how to do. And I did it right, it just won't comply, and I have absofuckinglootly no idea why.
Two program manuals at my disposal. A plethora of help files and online tutorials. Nada. Just. Can. Not. Do. It.
I dislike computers almost as much as I dislike sewing machines. I can use them both on a very basic level, but it's like my head is designed to only hold a limited amount of information before brain automatically shuts down and protests the absorbtion of anything new.
The problem, you see, if I am a bit of a control freak. And a perfectionist. If I can't make something work just as I want it, I'd just as soon not play the game at all as have to compromise and do something in a way other then how I had pictured it.
The only problem with this is not completeing the task I originally set out to makes me feel like an utter failure. And...did I mention Stupid?
Slow to learn or understand; obtuse.
Tending to make poor decisions or careless mistakes.
Marked by a lack of intelligence or care; foolish or careless: a stupid mistake.
Dazed, stunned, or stupefied.
Pointless; worthless: a stupid job.
An entire day of my life trying to set a single image as a background that does not tile in Dreamweaver. That's time I will never get back, yanno. A whole day wherein all I suceeded in doing was frustrating myself (and others, with my questions and bickering) to the point that I had to admit defeat because I am too fucking dumb to make a silly little computer progrma to a simple function that I KNOW how to do. And I did it right, it just won't comply, and I have absofuckinglootly no idea why.
Two program manuals at my disposal. A plethora of help files and online tutorials. Nada. Just. Can. Not. Do. It.
I dislike computers almost as much as I dislike sewing machines. I can use them both on a very basic level, but it's like my head is designed to only hold a limited amount of information before brain automatically shuts down and protests the absorbtion of anything new.
The problem, you see, if I am a bit of a control freak. And a perfectionist. If I can't make something work just as I want it, I'd just as soon not play the game at all as have to compromise and do something in a way other then how I had pictured it.
The only problem with this is not completeing the task I originally set out to makes me feel like an utter failure. And...did I mention Stupid?
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Globetrotting
W00t! The tickets to Australia were delivered to Paula's place today. So now it's all starting to sink in. Scarey, in that vastly thrilling sort of way.
It's also forced me to take stock of what needs to get done before then. Cause October sounds like a long way off, till I realize i will only be spending about 4-5 weeks of that time in Norway.
In eight days I am off for England, for a long weekend in London enroute to a trip home to Canada. I will be in Newfoundland for nearly 6 weeks (yay! and w00t! and other such exclamations of happiness and delight!), returning to london for a few days before hopping another flight back to Norway about the middle of August. Then I have a few weeks to close up this chapter of my life; determine what goes with me and what gets tossed/ left in Duane's care for possible future collection.
How on earth am I going to fit enough for a whole year in two suitcases? I mean, I could fill one with shoes alone! I've never quite grasped the whole "less is more" concept.
Once that is sorted, the plan is to spend some more time in England, this time in Dover. So that will be new. I've travelled fairly exttensively through England, but hhave yet to venture to Dover. Might try to fit in a few days in France; seems silly not to, being so close. Add another country to my European experience.
And then, from Dover back into London for a night or two before setting off for the southern hemisphere.
I should start taking notes in my travel logs how much time i spend in transit/in airports. Over the last few years, I'm willing to bet the amount of time thusly wasted is staggering. It used to be that I would try burying my face in a book, write or listen to music in an effort to use such time productively. But I've come to accept that it rarely works out that way. Mostly, I spend my time wandering (the stretching pre and post flight does wonders for tired muscles), people watching, daydreamsing and the like. And, really, I rarely travel anywhere without meeting at least one really interesting person. I DO need to start keeping better and more regular travel journals though.
It's also forced me to take stock of what needs to get done before then. Cause October sounds like a long way off, till I realize i will only be spending about 4-5 weeks of that time in Norway.
In eight days I am off for England, for a long weekend in London enroute to a trip home to Canada. I will be in Newfoundland for nearly 6 weeks (yay! and w00t! and other such exclamations of happiness and delight!), returning to london for a few days before hopping another flight back to Norway about the middle of August. Then I have a few weeks to close up this chapter of my life; determine what goes with me and what gets tossed/ left in Duane's care for possible future collection.
How on earth am I going to fit enough for a whole year in two suitcases? I mean, I could fill one with shoes alone! I've never quite grasped the whole "less is more" concept.
Once that is sorted, the plan is to spend some more time in England, this time in Dover. So that will be new. I've travelled fairly exttensively through England, but hhave yet to venture to Dover. Might try to fit in a few days in France; seems silly not to, being so close. Add another country to my European experience.
And then, from Dover back into London for a night or two before setting off for the southern hemisphere.
I should start taking notes in my travel logs how much time i spend in transit/in airports. Over the last few years, I'm willing to bet the amount of time thusly wasted is staggering. It used to be that I would try burying my face in a book, write or listen to music in an effort to use such time productively. But I've come to accept that it rarely works out that way. Mostly, I spend my time wandering (the stretching pre and post flight does wonders for tired muscles), people watching, daydreamsing and the like. And, really, I rarely travel anywhere without meeting at least one really interesting person. I DO need to start keeping better and more regular travel journals though.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Can anyone teach me to fly?
I have about two weeks before i leave norway to learn, and then, to teach this baby seagull i've just dragged home.
Found it abandonded, and could not bear to see the wee little bugger crying alone. Waited for a while first to make sure momma was not hiding somewhere...but it's way to ikkle to have been purposefully left out of nest alone yet anyhow. So somehow it was removed, and then left in the middle of a skateboard park. bah.
Seems happy enough. Cuddled down into my cleavage and slept all the way home, then greedilly devoured about a quarter can of tuna from my fingers, and sipped water from a dish. Even put up with pokings by the puppy-creature without even slight discomfort apparent- just poked the pup once, then dismissed it by turning it's back and shaking tail feathers in her general direction. It tried preening, but it's sort of small and clumbsy so cleaning its unddercoat resulting in it comically tipping arse over head.
I know I will regret this the second it is strong enough to start voicing demands, though right now I keep thinking of the gulls crying "mine, mine mine" from "Finding Nemo" and its making me crack right up. They rocked.
Then again, they were not living in my bedroom.
Now then, see the little "comments" link below? Click it. And suggest a name for the creature. Can't keep calling it "Gull".
Found it abandonded, and could not bear to see the wee little bugger crying alone. Waited for a while first to make sure momma was not hiding somewhere...but it's way to ikkle to have been purposefully left out of nest alone yet anyhow. So somehow it was removed, and then left in the middle of a skateboard park. bah.
Seems happy enough. Cuddled down into my cleavage and slept all the way home, then greedilly devoured about a quarter can of tuna from my fingers, and sipped water from a dish. Even put up with pokings by the puppy-creature without even slight discomfort apparent- just poked the pup once, then dismissed it by turning it's back and shaking tail feathers in her general direction. It tried preening, but it's sort of small and clumbsy so cleaning its unddercoat resulting in it comically tipping arse over head.
I know I will regret this the second it is strong enough to start voicing demands, though right now I keep thinking of the gulls crying "mine, mine mine" from "Finding Nemo" and its making me crack right up. They rocked.
Then again, they were not living in my bedroom.
Now then, see the little "comments" link below? Click it. And suggest a name for the creature. Can't keep calling it "Gull".
Monday, June 14, 2004
Nasty, salacious and depraved. I am a dirty, dirty girl
Money. It drives most societies. The production, attainment and spending of, that is. And money is really such a vulgar item. The deceit and depravity. The greed that fuels the machine. It's also so very lewd. And not in a good way.
That's not to say I am innocent. I am a good capatilist little whore, in some ways. While i have not, historically, been bothered to all-out pursue and accumulate stockpiles of cash, I will readily admmit to loving the spending part of the outfit. I am a marketer's dream, sometimes, and unfortunately, having placed little value on money, it means I will cheerfully dole out any that i might have. Shiny shiny! It's blue and sparkles? Must have!
At 30, I'm begining to wonder if perhaps my standing might need an overhaul. I began working at age 15...not counting the babysitting stint thats near manditory for teens. But you know what? I would not be able to make even a ball park guess as to how much money I have earned in that time. Honestly, I'ver not even a general guess. I don't have savings. I don't own property, and none of my possessions have intrinsic worth. I did for a time own mutual funds; but that was sheerly because of a lump sum payment that i simply had no clue how to deal with, and so followed the advice of a good friend, who is a banker, and invested it. Withdrew it all a year later to vacation on. And thoroughly enjoyed the process of getting rid of it.
And see, therein lies the problem. While I don't feel any particular drive to accumulate wealth, i do indeed enjoy shedding it. I take great pleasure in the exchange of money for goods and service. Be that a shiny new toy for me or anything that would light up the face of a loved one. I mean, when I have it, i figure its there to be enjoyed...by me, and anyone around me. Isn't that what material wealth is for? No? Damn.
The result of this love for liquidation is a distinct lack of assets, combined with a whopping student loan that sits unpaid. My eventual return to Canada will of course, put an end to the period of arrears, as well it should, and I have no problem with that. I will likely take as much pleasure in sorting myself out and making payments anyhow...it's still spending, right?
I've never really examined my relationship with money until a few years ago, when my life began to change in ways where finacial independance was a major concern. I've been content to drift along unplanned before then. Grew up well below the poverty line, but i never particularly cared about such things. I've always been content with just getting by. All part of my hippy mentality i guess. The things i hold close to me and place value on are not things tied into commerce. Most things i enjoy and take pleasure in do not require an expendeture of a churlish piece of paper as a means of aqquisition. Such a tranfer would cheapen the transaction in a profound manner.
The subtle shift began happening when i began travelling alot more, in an effort to escape my living situation. Sudenly i became more acutely aware of how a lack of money can be very limiting. And I feel rather foolish for having gone three decades without having absorbed that lesson. And for not realizing sooner how the world does not operate on a level that is compatible to my admitedly naieve and limited view of all things fiscal.
Such a vile notion; that something as crass as money can tie into one's ability to enjoy life. While I have accepted that I need to adjust my perception and adapt, shift my focus towards playing the game of a monied establishment, it also seems distastefully seedy to me somehow.
Such a sordid and sullied little game. And yet, one so overwelmingly and inricately tied up in so much else about life as to make it inescapable within most societies. I'm nore sure how it escaped my attention so long, really. I don't think myself a stupid person; so how did i get along this long without actively playing the game? And this far in, I'm not quite sure where to put my feet in all the muck around me. I know I need to. And I do like challanges. But I doubt if I will ever come to think of money and wealth as anything but tacky, really.
Given that the things i enjoy, seek out and find vastly satisfying makes most people shudder with revulsion and distase, I do see the amusement value apparent in the fact that I find money such a morally reprehensible concept.
But it is one I am struggling to gain a measure of comprehension of. I'll let you know how it goes.
That's not to say I am innocent. I am a good capatilist little whore, in some ways. While i have not, historically, been bothered to all-out pursue and accumulate stockpiles of cash, I will readily admmit to loving the spending part of the outfit. I am a marketer's dream, sometimes, and unfortunately, having placed little value on money, it means I will cheerfully dole out any that i might have. Shiny shiny! It's blue and sparkles? Must have!
At 30, I'm begining to wonder if perhaps my standing might need an overhaul. I began working at age 15...not counting the babysitting stint thats near manditory for teens. But you know what? I would not be able to make even a ball park guess as to how much money I have earned in that time. Honestly, I'ver not even a general guess. I don't have savings. I don't own property, and none of my possessions have intrinsic worth. I did for a time own mutual funds; but that was sheerly because of a lump sum payment that i simply had no clue how to deal with, and so followed the advice of a good friend, who is a banker, and invested it. Withdrew it all a year later to vacation on. And thoroughly enjoyed the process of getting rid of it.
And see, therein lies the problem. While I don't feel any particular drive to accumulate wealth, i do indeed enjoy shedding it. I take great pleasure in the exchange of money for goods and service. Be that a shiny new toy for me or anything that would light up the face of a loved one. I mean, when I have it, i figure its there to be enjoyed...by me, and anyone around me. Isn't that what material wealth is for? No? Damn.
The result of this love for liquidation is a distinct lack of assets, combined with a whopping student loan that sits unpaid. My eventual return to Canada will of course, put an end to the period of arrears, as well it should, and I have no problem with that. I will likely take as much pleasure in sorting myself out and making payments anyhow...it's still spending, right?
I've never really examined my relationship with money until a few years ago, when my life began to change in ways where finacial independance was a major concern. I've been content to drift along unplanned before then. Grew up well below the poverty line, but i never particularly cared about such things. I've always been content with just getting by. All part of my hippy mentality i guess. The things i hold close to me and place value on are not things tied into commerce. Most things i enjoy and take pleasure in do not require an expendeture of a churlish piece of paper as a means of aqquisition. Such a tranfer would cheapen the transaction in a profound manner.
The subtle shift began happening when i began travelling alot more, in an effort to escape my living situation. Sudenly i became more acutely aware of how a lack of money can be very limiting. And I feel rather foolish for having gone three decades without having absorbed that lesson. And for not realizing sooner how the world does not operate on a level that is compatible to my admitedly naieve and limited view of all things fiscal.
Such a vile notion; that something as crass as money can tie into one's ability to enjoy life. While I have accepted that I need to adjust my perception and adapt, shift my focus towards playing the game of a monied establishment, it also seems distastefully seedy to me somehow.
Such a sordid and sullied little game. And yet, one so overwelmingly and inricately tied up in so much else about life as to make it inescapable within most societies. I'm nore sure how it escaped my attention so long, really. I don't think myself a stupid person; so how did i get along this long without actively playing the game? And this far in, I'm not quite sure where to put my feet in all the muck around me. I know I need to. And I do like challanges. But I doubt if I will ever come to think of money and wealth as anything but tacky, really.
Given that the things i enjoy, seek out and find vastly satisfying makes most people shudder with revulsion and distase, I do see the amusement value apparent in the fact that I find money such a morally reprehensible concept.
But it is one I am struggling to gain a measure of comprehension of. I'll let you know how it goes.
Dance floor diva
Went out to grind and slam a few hours away on a dancefloor with a friend last night; it was her last opportunity to do so, and she is moving from norway to London, and we made use of it well. It was one of those nights when everythiung clicked just right.
Shes been here almost as long as me, and likely has actually spent more time here, considering how much i travel; but still, she knows very few people outside of work. I tend to be a little more outgoing and social, and as such, am fairly well known - as the loud Canadian chick. The club we had chosen proved to be full of people who knew me, even if i did not always know them, so we wre constantly approached and joined on the floor by random people. There seemed to be fewer severely drunken arsehats present as well, and only three times did i have to remove hands of a complete stranger from my personage. The music was well mixed, the crowd was happy -as it was ther first weekend with uni students back home for the summer, plus Norwegians got their yeary tax cashback thingy, typically delivered right now and declaired "Holiday rebate" or summat. All combined, it made for a pleasent night out, and i left the club several hours later sweaty and very very happy after a few hours in which i had checked out from life in general and remembered what it is to feel utterrly blissful.
Long cold shower to bring down the temp and several liters of water once i was home was comvbined with a delightful phone call, whcih meant i did not atually go to bed till 6 am. Was up again by noon, when sounds of the day creeped in and invaded my pleasent dreams of a large kittenish creature. Slkapped on a basebal cap to cover the severe bedhead and went walking with the puppy, sopaking up the sunshine and still on a buzz from last night. Shoped the market stalls for an armful of fruit and returned home to find an oddity indeed...and empty apartment. With Rob still away, and duane off for the rest of the day, you would think i would take full advantage, and abuse such freedom, right? But no. I'm too big of a dork for that.
Instead, i baked. Brownies, then banana bread. Chopped a bowl of fruit into chunks for lunch. Considerably less healthy then it might seem on first glance, once i tell you said fruit was garnished by popping a bite into my mouth, tipping back head and spraying a glob of whipped cream from a can down my throat. Yum, though. Going to do something equally as unhealthy for supper. Pizza maybe.
Doing the girly thing now. Pedicure over, and sitting in a face mask and resisting the urge to dye my hair bright bright electric blue.
It's sad, really. I think I'm entering a midlife crisis. I look at my hopelessly housebitching ways and want to do something entirely unexpected.
Shes been here almost as long as me, and likely has actually spent more time here, considering how much i travel; but still, she knows very few people outside of work. I tend to be a little more outgoing and social, and as such, am fairly well known - as the loud Canadian chick. The club we had chosen proved to be full of people who knew me, even if i did not always know them, so we wre constantly approached and joined on the floor by random people. There seemed to be fewer severely drunken arsehats present as well, and only three times did i have to remove hands of a complete stranger from my personage. The music was well mixed, the crowd was happy -as it was ther first weekend with uni students back home for the summer, plus Norwegians got their yeary tax cashback thingy, typically delivered right now and declaired "Holiday rebate" or summat. All combined, it made for a pleasent night out, and i left the club several hours later sweaty and very very happy after a few hours in which i had checked out from life in general and remembered what it is to feel utterrly blissful.
Long cold shower to bring down the temp and several liters of water once i was home was comvbined with a delightful phone call, whcih meant i did not atually go to bed till 6 am. Was up again by noon, when sounds of the day creeped in and invaded my pleasent dreams of a large kittenish creature. Slkapped on a basebal cap to cover the severe bedhead and went walking with the puppy, sopaking up the sunshine and still on a buzz from last night. Shoped the market stalls for an armful of fruit and returned home to find an oddity indeed...and empty apartment. With Rob still away, and duane off for the rest of the day, you would think i would take full advantage, and abuse such freedom, right? But no. I'm too big of a dork for that.
Instead, i baked. Brownies, then banana bread. Chopped a bowl of fruit into chunks for lunch. Considerably less healthy then it might seem on first glance, once i tell you said fruit was garnished by popping a bite into my mouth, tipping back head and spraying a glob of whipped cream from a can down my throat. Yum, though. Going to do something equally as unhealthy for supper. Pizza maybe.
Doing the girly thing now. Pedicure over, and sitting in a face mask and resisting the urge to dye my hair bright bright electric blue.
It's sad, really. I think I'm entering a midlife crisis. I look at my hopelessly housebitching ways and want to do something entirely unexpected.
Friday, June 11, 2004
I'm off to see the wizzard.
So the big decision is made.
Recent application to the UK Home Office for a working holidaymaker visa was rejected. No chance of appeal, but also no predjudice; free to apply for other visa's if my circumstances change. Right now, I'm not eligable for anything else.
Which left me facing the decision to return to Canada or apply for similar entry into Australia. Both options meant I would wind up disapointing people i care about.
As much as i love home, and as much as i miss the people there, the landscape and the amazing feeling of peace I get while there, I don't miss the economy, and the distinct lack of opportunities available to someone with my background in newfoundland. I'm also not ready tpo go back and deal with family friends and what will no doubt be a long series of repeated grillings on my so called "failed" marrieage. I don't think it failed. Just ended. To imply failure would suggest it was a mistake.
So the decision was made to attempt entry into Australia; goal being get my ass in the same location os the evil sadistic dude and see if the connection felt online holds true. And if it does not? Confident there is at least a solid friendship there, and time spend in the southern hemisphere is definetely appealing. And the visa was granted the same day. I'm free to enter australia, and work at any time. For a period of one year from date of entry. So, w00t. kinda.
For the first time in my adult life i am free to make decisions and pick up and move somewhere for entirely selfish reasons.
So why am a wracked with guilt? how do I make people believe in what I know is true? That i know through experience that when i leave a place, the relationships forged and established there do not dissapear? That the ones I love back home in canada remain as much a part of an influence in my life now, three years after I left home as they did when they lived with me and saw me everyday?
How do i convince people that love is not a finite measure, and does not require taking from one to give another?
How to make them trust in the fact that once i have forged a friendship, i hold on fiercely and don't let go?
They have no choice but to accept that they are not that easilly rid of me. To plagerize a line from the charactar Smith's dialogue; I am a virus. a disease, a cancer a plague.I am infectious, and geographical distance is not a cure.
More of my friends need to be clairvoyant; they need to be able to peer into my head and see the absolute certainty that lies there. The unshakable knowledge that certain relationships are born of a bond so profound they can't be broken.
And herein lies the real kicker; no matter what, i'm damned if i do and damned if i don't. Had my decision been different, had i made decisions to keep those i care about happy? Ultimately, they would wind up unhappy anyhow. Because they are such incredible people, and because our connection is such that it is, they would always know that they influenced my choices, and would always, therefore, feel guilty that i chose for them instead of me.
Inevitably, if they are to be unhappy no matter which path i chose, I would rather chose the path that leaves them dissapointed in or angry at me. Far preferable to them feeling guilty to have swayed my choices. I have no problem shouldering blame. Strong like ox, nikki. Will carry much weight. Two camels and a goat to the person in the back. (i know...sometimes i should resist the urge to interject humor. It's a problem of mine. I have the NEED to make people smile. It's important to me).
Other people's guilt, I simply cannot abide by. They are worth far too much to me to be able to watch them suffer feelings of guilt over me. But my guilt? *shrugs*. It's familiar. It s something i know i have the ability to withstand. Often, its something i seek out. Taking possession of guilt, making myself responsible gives me a measure of control. And if i have control, then it follows that i have the power to fix it.
Sometimes, people get hurt by the actions of others. And the words "I'm sorry" are wholely inadequate at times. But I trust in my friends to know the full scope and depth of emotion is tied in when i say the words "I'm sorry". And I am.
Please don't let my ruby slippers make you sad. Remember how much I care.
Recent application to the UK Home Office for a working holidaymaker visa was rejected. No chance of appeal, but also no predjudice; free to apply for other visa's if my circumstances change. Right now, I'm not eligable for anything else.
Which left me facing the decision to return to Canada or apply for similar entry into Australia. Both options meant I would wind up disapointing people i care about.
As much as i love home, and as much as i miss the people there, the landscape and the amazing feeling of peace I get while there, I don't miss the economy, and the distinct lack of opportunities available to someone with my background in newfoundland. I'm also not ready tpo go back and deal with family friends and what will no doubt be a long series of repeated grillings on my so called "failed" marrieage. I don't think it failed. Just ended. To imply failure would suggest it was a mistake.
So the decision was made to attempt entry into Australia; goal being get my ass in the same location os the evil sadistic dude and see if the connection felt online holds true. And if it does not? Confident there is at least a solid friendship there, and time spend in the southern hemisphere is definetely appealing. And the visa was granted the same day. I'm free to enter australia, and work at any time. For a period of one year from date of entry. So, w00t. kinda.
For the first time in my adult life i am free to make decisions and pick up and move somewhere for entirely selfish reasons.
So why am a wracked with guilt? how do I make people believe in what I know is true? That i know through experience that when i leave a place, the relationships forged and established there do not dissapear? That the ones I love back home in canada remain as much a part of an influence in my life now, three years after I left home as they did when they lived with me and saw me everyday?
How do i convince people that love is not a finite measure, and does not require taking from one to give another?
How to make them trust in the fact that once i have forged a friendship, i hold on fiercely and don't let go?
They have no choice but to accept that they are not that easilly rid of me. To plagerize a line from the charactar Smith's dialogue; I am a virus. a disease, a cancer a plague.I am infectious, and geographical distance is not a cure.
More of my friends need to be clairvoyant; they need to be able to peer into my head and see the absolute certainty that lies there. The unshakable knowledge that certain relationships are born of a bond so profound they can't be broken.
And herein lies the real kicker; no matter what, i'm damned if i do and damned if i don't. Had my decision been different, had i made decisions to keep those i care about happy? Ultimately, they would wind up unhappy anyhow. Because they are such incredible people, and because our connection is such that it is, they would always know that they influenced my choices, and would always, therefore, feel guilty that i chose for them instead of me.
Inevitably, if they are to be unhappy no matter which path i chose, I would rather chose the path that leaves them dissapointed in or angry at me. Far preferable to them feeling guilty to have swayed my choices. I have no problem shouldering blame. Strong like ox, nikki. Will carry much weight. Two camels and a goat to the person in the back. (i know...sometimes i should resist the urge to interject humor. It's a problem of mine. I have the NEED to make people smile. It's important to me).
Other people's guilt, I simply cannot abide by. They are worth far too much to me to be able to watch them suffer feelings of guilt over me. But my guilt? *shrugs*. It's familiar. It s something i know i have the ability to withstand. Often, its something i seek out. Taking possession of guilt, making myself responsible gives me a measure of control. And if i have control, then it follows that i have the power to fix it.
Sometimes, people get hurt by the actions of others. And the words "I'm sorry" are wholely inadequate at times. But I trust in my friends to know the full scope and depth of emotion is tied in when i say the words "I'm sorry". And I am.
Please don't let my ruby slippers make you sad. Remember how much I care.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Simplicity
Simple; (thank you dictionary.com)
Having or composed of only one thing, element, or part.
Not involved or complicated; easy: a simple task.
Being without additions or modifications; mere: a simple “yes” or “no.”
I would dearly love to live a simple life. Even if just for a little while. I do have pleasent memories of just that; a years bliss near the end of my last degree, living with my closest friends, being a student, with a job that was enough to support me, and a car that worked most of the time (as well as a mechanic i knew and trusted for the times it did not). I don't think that i ask for alot, really. I think I have more then payed my dues on the drama front.
A respite from the hassle; a life of ease. One without an overload of undue drama. A period of time in which I did not have to tax my brain fully to ponder out multiple solutions and prethink possible fuckups in advance just because i know the next bomb will drop soon enough.
An span of time without an insane amount of complication. Time to recharge my batteries, replenish my soul, remember what it is to be happy. Truely happy i mean, without an undercurrent of worry, of second guessing, of wondering when the happiness bubble will be punctured by the great fuckoffbig needle of Seti.
I dream of such things nightly. Fantasize about them daily. Such things make me smile stupidly amidst the turmoil. To placidly go amidst the noise and haste
A life, shared with people I care about, where the most difficult decision I will face all week is which beach to flake out on during the weekend, or how many bottles of mix should we have on hand for the saturday night bbq. Which shoes go best with these jeans, and what i need to fix the funky shower faucet that drips. How to keep the new kitten from scratching the doorframe and which train will be the fastest route home.
The reality is right now I am stuck with the monumental decisions. The big, possibly life altering things that only I can set in motion, but whose result will, without a doubt, hugely affect some of the people I care about most fiercely.
Whose bright idea what it to give such power to me in the first place? I mean, how fucking bright is ~that~, huh? Daft cunt. What was s/he thinking? I can't decide on which mug to pour coffee into some mornings. Let alone the extraction or interjection of a whole new person into someone else's life plan.
I need one of those little Mystic 8 Ball chummys that you can ask questions to, shake and get standardized "yes" or "hell no" answers to all the deep and meaningful questions that are being screamed into my head right now.
Or Eenie Meanie Miney Mo, perhaps?
Having or composed of only one thing, element, or part.
Not involved or complicated; easy: a simple task.
Being without additions or modifications; mere: a simple “yes” or “no.”
I would dearly love to live a simple life. Even if just for a little while. I do have pleasent memories of just that; a years bliss near the end of my last degree, living with my closest friends, being a student, with a job that was enough to support me, and a car that worked most of the time (as well as a mechanic i knew and trusted for the times it did not). I don't think that i ask for alot, really. I think I have more then payed my dues on the drama front.
A respite from the hassle; a life of ease. One without an overload of undue drama. A period of time in which I did not have to tax my brain fully to ponder out multiple solutions and prethink possible fuckups in advance just because i know the next bomb will drop soon enough.
An span of time without an insane amount of complication. Time to recharge my batteries, replenish my soul, remember what it is to be happy. Truely happy i mean, without an undercurrent of worry, of second guessing, of wondering when the happiness bubble will be punctured by the great fuckoffbig needle of Seti.
I dream of such things nightly. Fantasize about them daily. Such things make me smile stupidly amidst the turmoil. To placidly go amidst the noise and haste
A life, shared with people I care about, where the most difficult decision I will face all week is which beach to flake out on during the weekend, or how many bottles of mix should we have on hand for the saturday night bbq. Which shoes go best with these jeans, and what i need to fix the funky shower faucet that drips. How to keep the new kitten from scratching the doorframe and which train will be the fastest route home.
The reality is right now I am stuck with the monumental decisions. The big, possibly life altering things that only I can set in motion, but whose result will, without a doubt, hugely affect some of the people I care about most fiercely.
Whose bright idea what it to give such power to me in the first place? I mean, how fucking bright is ~that~, huh? Daft cunt. What was s/he thinking? I can't decide on which mug to pour coffee into some mornings. Let alone the extraction or interjection of a whole new person into someone else's life plan.
I need one of those little Mystic 8 Ball chummys that you can ask questions to, shake and get standardized "yes" or "hell no" answers to all the deep and meaningful questions that are being screamed into my head right now.
Or Eenie Meanie Miney Mo, perhaps?
Sunday, June 06, 2004
Introduction
Most of you reading will know me already. But there are bound to be some that don't. So here are the basics of me, right now;
30 years old. Canadian, though I have spent the last three years gypsying around Europe, based mostly in southern Norway and London.
The boobage, and lack of phalic appendage suggests I am female. I struggle to understand most women and identify better with the thought process of men on the whole. As a result, my friends tend to be male; or obnoxious/agressive/striaghtforward women.
Separated, marking the end of a 14 year long relationship. Still mostly friends, and for now roommates. It's not ideal, but its semi-necessary. Recently shot down for a uk visa, so next move is unknown. Could be school in Australia, could be back to Canada. Far too many unknowns in my life. Enought to make me want to hybernate, and be woken when it's all over and done with.
Hideously in love, in a juvenille and thoroughly delightful kinda way. As was recently observed by a family member; "If she had school books I would expect to see wee hearts with his name in all over the front". See? Sickening! I love it.
But I don't do love or anything else simply. Said object of lust is on other side of globe, and out plans to get our asses in the same city are backfiring at an alarming rate. In case this unrequitedness is not enough, theres also the extended poly family consisting of my bitchboi(heh. Ok...so bitchboi on loan?), his wife, his wife's partner, and a plethora of spawn to consider. Who all also retain a citizenship different then my own. Boggled yet? Yep, me too. I won't try explaining the on again off again thing back home in Canada.
It's no wonder monagamy looks so enticing.
I'm a whole bunch of oxymoronic things; Soul of a poet, overly sensitive, i will fight fiercely to protect my loved ones, but on the whole, despise confrontation of any sort. I come off as a loudmouthed bitch, but its really overcompensating for the fact that i feel horrendously shy and self concious most of the time. I'm into kink and like to be beaten and sometimes beat, but what i crave more then anything in my life are those quiet intimate tender moments with the ever elusive "soul mate" ghost. I have two degrees, and yet, am completely unemployable. I am a highly social creature and love my home being the hang out spot for unannounced friends, yet sometimes i have the need to crawl fetal and hide to work out the rattling in my head. I'm a munchkin in a fat chick's body.
I am complusively honest, if i care about you. Entirely unable to lie convincingly to my loved ones, but i can charm and deceive strangers without effort.
I know what I am-and what i am not-obscenely and intimately well. I make no apologies for what i have or what i lack. Either you like me as you find me, or you move on. I adapt to new situations and people constantly, but i will alter of my own accord, or not at all.
So there you are. take it or leave it. Me in a nutshell.
30 years old. Canadian, though I have spent the last three years gypsying around Europe, based mostly in southern Norway and London.
The boobage, and lack of phalic appendage suggests I am female. I struggle to understand most women and identify better with the thought process of men on the whole. As a result, my friends tend to be male; or obnoxious/agressive/striaghtforward women.
Separated, marking the end of a 14 year long relationship. Still mostly friends, and for now roommates. It's not ideal, but its semi-necessary. Recently shot down for a uk visa, so next move is unknown. Could be school in Australia, could be back to Canada. Far too many unknowns in my life. Enought to make me want to hybernate, and be woken when it's all over and done with.
Hideously in love, in a juvenille and thoroughly delightful kinda way. As was recently observed by a family member; "If she had school books I would expect to see wee hearts with his name in all over the front". See? Sickening! I love it.
But I don't do love or anything else simply. Said object of lust is on other side of globe, and out plans to get our asses in the same city are backfiring at an alarming rate. In case this unrequitedness is not enough, theres also the extended poly family consisting of my bitchboi(heh. Ok...so bitchboi on loan?), his wife, his wife's partner, and a plethora of spawn to consider. Who all also retain a citizenship different then my own. Boggled yet? Yep, me too. I won't try explaining the on again off again thing back home in Canada.
It's no wonder monagamy looks so enticing.
I'm a whole bunch of oxymoronic things; Soul of a poet, overly sensitive, i will fight fiercely to protect my loved ones, but on the whole, despise confrontation of any sort. I come off as a loudmouthed bitch, but its really overcompensating for the fact that i feel horrendously shy and self concious most of the time. I'm into kink and like to be beaten and sometimes beat, but what i crave more then anything in my life are those quiet intimate tender moments with the ever elusive "soul mate" ghost. I have two degrees, and yet, am completely unemployable. I am a highly social creature and love my home being the hang out spot for unannounced friends, yet sometimes i have the need to crawl fetal and hide to work out the rattling in my head. I'm a munchkin in a fat chick's body.
I am complusively honest, if i care about you. Entirely unable to lie convincingly to my loved ones, but i can charm and deceive strangers without effort.
I know what I am-and what i am not-obscenely and intimately well. I make no apologies for what i have or what i lack. Either you like me as you find me, or you move on. I adapt to new situations and people constantly, but i will alter of my own accord, or not at all.
So there you are. take it or leave it. Me in a nutshell.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)