Yes I made cookies. Last night in fact. There's a recipe I came across just last week, and I decided to make these easy sweets.
I ended up with a batch on the weekend - see, the recipe results in two long logs of cookie dough - and last night I decided to bake the refrigerated log to bring in to work today, as it is my boss' birthday.
All together now...... AWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
I knew the cookies were good, since I'd already tried them of course. Taste-testing is an absolute MUST when cooking, and as these were my second batch, they were even better than the first, as I was now aware of not over-cooking them in my fan-forced oven.
Yes, my boss was happy. In fact, most of the guys here at work were too.
I'm feeling quite successful right now. Like a regular Nigella Lawson. All these compliments, watching all these fellow employees around me walk up to my bosses desk, eye off the cookies, proceed to bite in and chew, and then glance apporvingly in my direction with a smile and a nod.
Very good.
So my lesson for today is: if you want people to like you at work, bring cookies. Or any other sweet-flavoured food that will aid in the release of endorphins in their bodies.
Yes they could like you for you. And you could spend your days trying to be nice, and making friends the long way, the old-fashioned way.
But fulfilling their sweet hunger is the quick fix to making EVERYONE happy. And chocolate chip nut cookies are REALLY yummy....
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
I Fainted..... and it was like in the Movies
Yes. I fainted. And it was truly like in the movies. Seems like they get some things right!
This was over a week ago, mind you. Seems my previous post prediction came true, about not posting for a while.
I fainted, shit happened, I freaked out, and yeah, here we are.
So the story begins on my Monday off, the one before this one just passed. I had a doctors appointment, and let's just say I was feeling apprehensive to say the least. I was really nervous, but it was over and done with before I knew it, which was GREAT.
I had come in that day with my Mum, as I was on my sister's side of town: we had the intention of visiting her after the doctors, so mum was in the waiting area.
I came out, and walked to the counter to pay.
There were two receptionist/nurses at the counter. One was assisting a fellow patient, the other was on the phone. I was sort of standing near the receptionist on the phone, because I could tell that once she was finished, she would assist me: the other receptionist and patient seemed to be involved in something that would take a while.
It was during this time, that I started to think about the appointment I'd just had. It was over yes, but still, stupidly, the thought came into my head, and made me queasy, ill.
It was like I knew what was starting to occur. A sense of uneasiness came over me. I started shifting from foot to foot, in an effort to keep moving, keep active, not wanting unconsciousness to come and take over me.
Yes there was a reason I knew that I had to keep moving. I had suffered from, I guess you can call it fainting 'episodes' before. I never called it that, only because it wasn't your normal (if you can say normal for fainting) or expected fainting episode. It was no black and white moment of "oh my gosh I'm sick," and BANG fall down holding my heart. No, nothing like that.
The first time I remember 'falling' was when I was a teen. I was in a hot room, and I was sitting down cross-legged, reading, my head resting on my hands. It was very warm and stuffy. When I went to stand up, it was quick, and I started walking to the front door. I felt my ears ringing slightly, and I felt a bit dizzy, the way you might do when you stand up quickly. But then what surprised me, when I reached the door, was I blacked out, lost consciousness whatever you may call it, and the next thing I knew I felt as if I was half-dreaming. In this state my legs buckled beneath me, and I started to fall. As I fell down I hit myself somewhere - I can't remember where it was now, whether it was my arm, leg, or whether I scratched my face somehow on the way down - but that still didn't get me out of my unconscious state. Then BANG I hit the ground, and it was about then that I sort of came to and thought "my gosh, did I just faint?" It was the oddest sensation, of slipping out and then coming back to and realising that you have no idea of how you came to that place. I'd remembered hitting myself on the way down, but until I hit the floor completely did I actually realise what had happened.
Funnily enough, I found it sort of exciting. Well you do I guess at that age. I didn't jump for joy or anything, but I did tell a few friends. I never really thought of it as fainting though, I always put my "falling spell" down to the fact that it was hot and stuffy, and when I stood up all the blood must have rushed up or down or wherever it goes, leading me to sort of, well, fall.
A close-to fainting spell followed years later. I was at my sisters with a close friend, and my Mum was there too (hmmmm coincidental, similar group of people!) My sister had just had her first baby boy and was recounting to my very-curious-but-squirmish-at-the-thought friend of her birth experience. She wasn't necessarily being gory or anything, but she was being honest. And as we stood there, my sister going through almost step-by-step of what she had endured, and as we imagined what she was relaying, things around me slowly started to lose colour: my world started to turn black.
My ears started to ring, and as I realised I was starting to feel faint, I thought I'd be smart and pretend to bend down and re-tie my shoelaces on my runners, rather than say to them "I don't think I'm feeling so well..."
So I started to bend down, but my sister must have seen a funny look on my face as I went down tentatively, coupled with the fact that when I made my way down I didn't tie my laces as everything in front of me was now black.
While I meekly denied that anything was wrong, (I couldn't see anything but I could hear everything through the ringing in my ears) my sister lay me down on the floor and rubbed my legs, trying to get the blood running, while we all laughed at my queasiness about her birth recollection.
There was no overtly graphic description of what she had gone through, I guess just the fact of replaying the scenario in my head made me feel beyond squirmish, and really light-headed. There was no BANG moment, but it had come close.
Episode number 3 occurred not even two years ago. It was a horrible circumstance, one in which I received bad news, news that I wouldn't wish upon anyone.
At my parents home I had a telephone next to me in my room, and that night in question, when it rang and rang at about four in the morning, it did not wake me up. At any other time, it would have startled me awake, but not this time. I was so deep in my sleep, that the only effect the ringing had on me was to think in my sleep "what is going on?"
My Mum on the other hand, who wouldn't hear a herd of elephants passing through the house while she was asleep, amazingly heard the ringing, and realising I wasn't close to even thinking about answering, ran to the kitchen phone.
I started to wake up as I heard my Mum speak on the phone from the other room. I think even my dad was up at this stage. She gasped, cried out, in horror. My dad and I had gotten up, and were in the next room, listening and watching, as she turned and exclaimed "your cousin has hung herself."
We both stood there in shock, trying to come to terms with this horrible news and understand what was going on, as my mother asked frenzied questions to my aunty. I thought of my cousin. There had always been dramas where she was concerned. She had a sister, who unlike her, had her life completely on track it seemed. Her sister was married with two sons, one about 12 years of age, perhaps the other about 16. However this sister, the one who seems to have had committed suicide, had been unlucky in life, with failed marriages, being the victim of abuse, her parents favouring the other daughter..... and etc. So sadly, the woman that I'd never met, due to geographical restraints (she lived in Europe), I thought to myself, I'd never meet.
However, as I listened on to my Mum, something became frighteningly clear to me. I can't remember if she confirmed it, but I realised that it wasn't the troubled cousin that had hung herself. It was her sister. The one that had it all, the one that seemed so together.
The second wave of realisation hit hard. My ears started to ring as I processed this information. This cousin I had met, only twice, but still so, the news rocked me. Like many other people, I later found out, it was not only I who had made the mistake of confusing the two when I heard the bad news. The pair have similar names, and in shock, I assumed the troubled sister had done the unthinkable, just because, well, sadly to say, if anyone had asked me earlier "which of them would you expect to do something so horrendous to themselves?" I would have easily replied "the troubled one," simply because of her unlucky life, and stories I'd heard from other people about her lack of mental stability in her life.
But never her sister. Never would I have thought that. I mean, I didn't know her well, she was quiet, because of our age difference we didn't talk a whole lot the times we'd met, but still she seemed nice. She had a wonderful husband, two sons, a huge house, and lived a pretty comfortable lifestyle, in an area of the world where many didn't have the means and couldn't afford to live comfortably.
As my Mum continued on the phone, as my ears continued to ring, I decided to go to the toilet and freshen up.
I made my way there and shut the door behind me. I think I started to feel a bit weak, like everything might go black, not in a fainting sense, more in a hold-on-and-steady-yourself-while-this-dizzy-spell-passes sort of way. Just as I thought, 'let me sit down,' BANG it was all over. Before I could manage to sit down, my legs buckled, and again, like when I was a teen, everything went black and I lost consciousness on my way down. Again. Falling down in a dream like state. The weirdest sensation. You don't know you're fainting, all it feels like, is like it's a dream. And then you wake up.
I fell down, on the tiled floor, like a bag of bricks being dropped. The side of my bum hit the tiles hard, and as a side reaction I bit my lip. The impact jolted me to, and I looked around, thinking "oh my gosh."
My Dad wasn't far. He heard the loud noise, and was at the door quickly. "Are you ok?" he called seriously.
When I mumbled a yes, he asked if he could come in, and opened the door to find me on the floor.
I was fine, all I suffered was a slightly bruised bum/hip, and a cut lip, which thankfully was more on the inner lip rather than on the outer for everyone to see, so luckily I wasn't scrutiny to the stupid questions of "who did you get in a fight with?"
I put it down to the fact that it was the middle of the night, more early morning I guess, and getting out of bed quickly, followed by the shock of hearing suddenly that my cousin had committed suicide, and then on top of that realising that in fact it was my 'together' cousin who had in fact done it, just started my head spinning. And led to me ending up on the floor again.
So, back to my most recent episode. I was in the waiting area, waiting in line to pay, and I was shifting foot to foot, trying to take deep breaths, aware that my recollection of the appointment I'd just had was a BAD idea, as suddenly I was feeling queasy, faint, weak, and all I wanted to do was get out of there. Once I was out and in the car park, and able to sit down in my car, I would be good. That was my frame of mind. I had considered sitting back down in the waiting area to regroup, but I thought it might appear odd, having just walked out of the doctors office and heading for a rest. I didn't wanna draw attention to myself and have people looking at me curiously. Ha. Did I get what I asked for or what.
The receptionist was soon off the phone and I stepped forward, handing her the relevant paperwork and waiting for her to ask me for money. She went away, looking for something: it took sooooo long. I was standing there, feeling fainter and fainter, wishing she would hurry up. I looked towards my Mum who was near the front entrance, and she was already planning to walk out. I leaned on the counter.
The receptionist came back and asked me for the due amount. Even at this moment I was starting to get disoriented, as I knew how much I owed, but still looking into my purse, I stared at my money slightly puzzled. I finally realised how much I needed to take out and handed her the money, all the while, my ears ringing, my vision starting to go dim, feeling fainter and fainter.
I don't know where the receptionist went or what she was doing: again it felt like ages waiting for my change. I actually held onto the counter, steadying myself, holding onto my consciousness just as strongly.
And that's the last thing I remember.
BANG.
Being out of it, unconscious or in my fainting spell, I still don't know what to call it, but in that dream-like sequence, I felt so good. In that moment, I felt dreamy, like I was well rested, and waking up from a dream. That's the only way I can explain it. This good, warm feeling. That was the feeling, the sense I had. The next thing I could remember in coming to, as my vision was returning (I refrain from saying "as I opened my eyes" because my Mum claims they were open the whole time - freaky!) was thinking to myself "what a nice sleep, what a nice rest." Then I saw about 3-4 faces in front of me, looking down at me, talking. But I couldn't hear what they were saying. I could tell I was on the floor lying down, because they were above me.
Then the realisation. I had fainted. I suddenly remembered the last few moments in a rush. And this was my thought pattern.
"Oh shit! Damn it, I fainted!"
"Oh, if I'm on the floor, how come my head doesn't hurt from falling?"
"Where's Mum? Not here, good, she won't be freaking out."
My doctor was right in front of me, saying "it's ok, you're ok."
I sheepishly whispered "how embarrassing. I didn't wanna make a scene."
The doctor and the receptionists around her were saying, "just relax, we've got a wheelchair for you," and I was like "oh my gosh the whole waiting area can see me! How embarrassing! As if she read my thoughts, my doctor said, "it's ok you'll never have to see these people again!"
At about that moment I saw my mum: poor Mum. She was crying and freaking out, and as I sat down on the wheelchair, one of the receptionists said, "I think your Mum needs a wheelchair!"
They wheeled us to one of the back rooms, onto a spare bed, and I was instructed to lie down, have some water and a lollypop.
I kept saying "this really isn't necessary, I'm ok" but according to one of the receptionists there I wasn't going anywhere until I'd had a proper lie down. But my Mum was being consoled more than anyone! I was consoling her, because she had freaked out at what had happened. Once she had calmed down slightly, she filled me in on what I hadn't been aware of.
She was all too ready to walk out the door, when she had seen me come out of the doctor's office and line up to pay. She was close to the door, ready to start walking to the car, but says something inside of her told her to wait, that she would be needed. Mother's intuition. My Mum's psychic, I know, so this doesn't surprise me. That's a whole blog in itself.
Next thing she knows, she sees the woman waiting near me or behind me, I'm not clear on that, holding my arm, as if to support me. Meanwhile, I'm staring off into the distance, off centre to the ceiling, as if focusing on a dot somewhere far away. Focusing and slightly crouched over. This must have been while I was out, because I can't remember this.
My Mum started to worry. With me looking abnormal and all. The receptionists behind the counter now all had their attention on me, observing me very carefully. I think my mum freaked out, and they said "don't worry, calm down, she's fainted." Well, I guess seeing me the way I was, non-responsive in a zombie-like state, my Mum couldn't calm down, and kept pressing them to "do something!" They said they would call someone, but my mum, anxious to get immediate help, knocked on the door of the doctor I'd just seen: it was one of the closest offices to the waiting area. My doctor immediately opened the door to my Mum's frantic "My daughter has fainted please help."
I think at this point the receptionists were lowering me slowly to the ground, on some sort of blanket. They brought over a wheelchair and were all crouched over me, observing me carefully, with my doctor there too. It was around this point that I came to, and realised what was happening.
I was slightly shaken and very amazed by the events that had unfolded that morning. We ended up going to my sisters and relaying what had happened to her. Of course only after I'd had my water and lollypop. Funnily enough, NONE of the receptionists asked me what had happened, or why. It makes me wonder how many other people have fainted there! I guess they just knew... and perhaps wanted to save me the embarrassment of having to explain. I'm not too sure.
But after talking with my sister, I was starting to get a better picture of what had happened, and possibly why it had happened. Here are my conclusions:1. I had been VERY nervous prior to my appointment. Reason no. 1 = Stress
2. My sister suggests when you're nervous you don't breathe properly, not enough oxygen goes into your lungs. Reason no. 2 = Lack of Oxygen.
3. I had had a light breakfast, as I was nervous about the upcoming appointment. I didn't have any food fuel to keep me going through the stress. Reason no. 3 = Little food.
4. I had a jacket on over my three-quarter length top, and it had been warm in the car, and in the waiting room. I had kept it on the whole time. Reason no. 4 = Heat.
5. I stupidly started to think about what had just happened, making me nauseous. Reason no. 5 = Nauseous.
6. My sister thinks we suffer from low blood pressure. Which is good in a way, but means that we are prone to feeling faint or nauseous at times like this. She suffers from it, and as I've just learnt so does my Dad. Dad, big and strong? Apparently so. Reason no. 6 = Low blood pressure.
So I think it's a combination. Yes I obviously suffer from low blood pressure (even thought the doctor measured it at the start of the appointment, and said it was fine, my sister thinks it can still mean we're fine but on the LOW side) and that coupled with the fact that I was stressed, warm, wasn't breathing properly and had had a light breakfast, equalled me fainting.
It makes sense when I look at all the other times I fell.
The first time, heat was concerned. I was in a really hot room and I suddenly stood up.
Heat + Low blood pressure = Fall.
The second time, I was feeling nauseous from my sister's story. Now that I think about it, it was morning then, and I'm sure I would have only had a really light breakfast. Nauseous + Light breakfast + Low blood pressure = Almost fall.
The third time it was nauseousness by the bad news I'd just heard. And stressed. Obviously I'd had no food as we'd been woken at four in the morning. And I wouldn't have been breathing properly from the shock. Nauseous + Stress + No Food + Lack of Oxygen + Low blood pressure = Fall.
And now it was everything. All the conditions. Stress + Nauseous + Lack of Oxygen + Light breakfast + Heat = Faint.
So any one of those key conditions, when coupled with my low blood pressure, equals NO GOOD. I need to watch myself now, and be more aware.of how I'm feeling, to avoid a similar fate in the future, and further embarrassment.
It's just soooo weird. Honestly. When I look back to that moment, of feeling faint and holding onto the counter, to my next recollection of seeing faces staring down at me in concern, in between having the oddest yet most serene sensation of being in a beautiful, rested dream, it is just mind-boggling.
Hollywood, you got this one right.
This was over a week ago, mind you. Seems my previous post prediction came true, about not posting for a while.
I fainted, shit happened, I freaked out, and yeah, here we are.
So the story begins on my Monday off, the one before this one just passed. I had a doctors appointment, and let's just say I was feeling apprehensive to say the least. I was really nervous, but it was over and done with before I knew it, which was GREAT.
I had come in that day with my Mum, as I was on my sister's side of town: we had the intention of visiting her after the doctors, so mum was in the waiting area.
I came out, and walked to the counter to pay.
There were two receptionist/nurses at the counter. One was assisting a fellow patient, the other was on the phone. I was sort of standing near the receptionist on the phone, because I could tell that once she was finished, she would assist me: the other receptionist and patient seemed to be involved in something that would take a while.
It was during this time, that I started to think about the appointment I'd just had. It was over yes, but still, stupidly, the thought came into my head, and made me queasy, ill.
It was like I knew what was starting to occur. A sense of uneasiness came over me. I started shifting from foot to foot, in an effort to keep moving, keep active, not wanting unconsciousness to come and take over me.
Yes there was a reason I knew that I had to keep moving. I had suffered from, I guess you can call it fainting 'episodes' before. I never called it that, only because it wasn't your normal (if you can say normal for fainting) or expected fainting episode. It was no black and white moment of "oh my gosh I'm sick," and BANG fall down holding my heart. No, nothing like that.
The first time I remember 'falling' was when I was a teen. I was in a hot room, and I was sitting down cross-legged, reading, my head resting on my hands. It was very warm and stuffy. When I went to stand up, it was quick, and I started walking to the front door. I felt my ears ringing slightly, and I felt a bit dizzy, the way you might do when you stand up quickly. But then what surprised me, when I reached the door, was I blacked out, lost consciousness whatever you may call it, and the next thing I knew I felt as if I was half-dreaming. In this state my legs buckled beneath me, and I started to fall. As I fell down I hit myself somewhere - I can't remember where it was now, whether it was my arm, leg, or whether I scratched my face somehow on the way down - but that still didn't get me out of my unconscious state. Then BANG I hit the ground, and it was about then that I sort of came to and thought "my gosh, did I just faint?" It was the oddest sensation, of slipping out and then coming back to and realising that you have no idea of how you came to that place. I'd remembered hitting myself on the way down, but until I hit the floor completely did I actually realise what had happened.
Funnily enough, I found it sort of exciting. Well you do I guess at that age. I didn't jump for joy or anything, but I did tell a few friends. I never really thought of it as fainting though, I always put my "falling spell" down to the fact that it was hot and stuffy, and when I stood up all the blood must have rushed up or down or wherever it goes, leading me to sort of, well, fall.
A close-to fainting spell followed years later. I was at my sisters with a close friend, and my Mum was there too (hmmmm coincidental, similar group of people!) My sister had just had her first baby boy and was recounting to my very-curious-but-squirmish-at-the-thought friend of her birth experience. She wasn't necessarily being gory or anything, but she was being honest. And as we stood there, my sister going through almost step-by-step of what she had endured, and as we imagined what she was relaying, things around me slowly started to lose colour: my world started to turn black.
My ears started to ring, and as I realised I was starting to feel faint, I thought I'd be smart and pretend to bend down and re-tie my shoelaces on my runners, rather than say to them "I don't think I'm feeling so well..."
So I started to bend down, but my sister must have seen a funny look on my face as I went down tentatively, coupled with the fact that when I made my way down I didn't tie my laces as everything in front of me was now black.
While I meekly denied that anything was wrong, (I couldn't see anything but I could hear everything through the ringing in my ears) my sister lay me down on the floor and rubbed my legs, trying to get the blood running, while we all laughed at my queasiness about her birth recollection.
There was no overtly graphic description of what she had gone through, I guess just the fact of replaying the scenario in my head made me feel beyond squirmish, and really light-headed. There was no BANG moment, but it had come close.
Episode number 3 occurred not even two years ago. It was a horrible circumstance, one in which I received bad news, news that I wouldn't wish upon anyone.
At my parents home I had a telephone next to me in my room, and that night in question, when it rang and rang at about four in the morning, it did not wake me up. At any other time, it would have startled me awake, but not this time. I was so deep in my sleep, that the only effect the ringing had on me was to think in my sleep "what is going on?"
My Mum on the other hand, who wouldn't hear a herd of elephants passing through the house while she was asleep, amazingly heard the ringing, and realising I wasn't close to even thinking about answering, ran to the kitchen phone.
I started to wake up as I heard my Mum speak on the phone from the other room. I think even my dad was up at this stage. She gasped, cried out, in horror. My dad and I had gotten up, and were in the next room, listening and watching, as she turned and exclaimed "your cousin has hung herself."
We both stood there in shock, trying to come to terms with this horrible news and understand what was going on, as my mother asked frenzied questions to my aunty. I thought of my cousin. There had always been dramas where she was concerned. She had a sister, who unlike her, had her life completely on track it seemed. Her sister was married with two sons, one about 12 years of age, perhaps the other about 16. However this sister, the one who seems to have had committed suicide, had been unlucky in life, with failed marriages, being the victim of abuse, her parents favouring the other daughter..... and etc. So sadly, the woman that I'd never met, due to geographical restraints (she lived in Europe), I thought to myself, I'd never meet.
However, as I listened on to my Mum, something became frighteningly clear to me. I can't remember if she confirmed it, but I realised that it wasn't the troubled cousin that had hung herself. It was her sister. The one that had it all, the one that seemed so together.
The second wave of realisation hit hard. My ears started to ring as I processed this information. This cousin I had met, only twice, but still so, the news rocked me. Like many other people, I later found out, it was not only I who had made the mistake of confusing the two when I heard the bad news. The pair have similar names, and in shock, I assumed the troubled sister had done the unthinkable, just because, well, sadly to say, if anyone had asked me earlier "which of them would you expect to do something so horrendous to themselves?" I would have easily replied "the troubled one," simply because of her unlucky life, and stories I'd heard from other people about her lack of mental stability in her life.
But never her sister. Never would I have thought that. I mean, I didn't know her well, she was quiet, because of our age difference we didn't talk a whole lot the times we'd met, but still she seemed nice. She had a wonderful husband, two sons, a huge house, and lived a pretty comfortable lifestyle, in an area of the world where many didn't have the means and couldn't afford to live comfortably.
As my Mum continued on the phone, as my ears continued to ring, I decided to go to the toilet and freshen up.
I made my way there and shut the door behind me. I think I started to feel a bit weak, like everything might go black, not in a fainting sense, more in a hold-on-and-steady-yourself-while-this-dizzy-spell-passes sort of way. Just as I thought, 'let me sit down,' BANG it was all over. Before I could manage to sit down, my legs buckled, and again, like when I was a teen, everything went black and I lost consciousness on my way down. Again. Falling down in a dream like state. The weirdest sensation. You don't know you're fainting, all it feels like, is like it's a dream. And then you wake up.
I fell down, on the tiled floor, like a bag of bricks being dropped. The side of my bum hit the tiles hard, and as a side reaction I bit my lip. The impact jolted me to, and I looked around, thinking "oh my gosh."
My Dad wasn't far. He heard the loud noise, and was at the door quickly. "Are you ok?" he called seriously.
When I mumbled a yes, he asked if he could come in, and opened the door to find me on the floor.
I was fine, all I suffered was a slightly bruised bum/hip, and a cut lip, which thankfully was more on the inner lip rather than on the outer for everyone to see, so luckily I wasn't scrutiny to the stupid questions of "who did you get in a fight with?"
I put it down to the fact that it was the middle of the night, more early morning I guess, and getting out of bed quickly, followed by the shock of hearing suddenly that my cousin had committed suicide, and then on top of that realising that in fact it was my 'together' cousin who had in fact done it, just started my head spinning. And led to me ending up on the floor again.
So, back to my most recent episode. I was in the waiting area, waiting in line to pay, and I was shifting foot to foot, trying to take deep breaths, aware that my recollection of the appointment I'd just had was a BAD idea, as suddenly I was feeling queasy, faint, weak, and all I wanted to do was get out of there. Once I was out and in the car park, and able to sit down in my car, I would be good. That was my frame of mind. I had considered sitting back down in the waiting area to regroup, but I thought it might appear odd, having just walked out of the doctors office and heading for a rest. I didn't wanna draw attention to myself and have people looking at me curiously. Ha. Did I get what I asked for or what.
The receptionist was soon off the phone and I stepped forward, handing her the relevant paperwork and waiting for her to ask me for money. She went away, looking for something: it took sooooo long. I was standing there, feeling fainter and fainter, wishing she would hurry up. I looked towards my Mum who was near the front entrance, and she was already planning to walk out. I leaned on the counter.
The receptionist came back and asked me for the due amount. Even at this moment I was starting to get disoriented, as I knew how much I owed, but still looking into my purse, I stared at my money slightly puzzled. I finally realised how much I needed to take out and handed her the money, all the while, my ears ringing, my vision starting to go dim, feeling fainter and fainter.
I don't know where the receptionist went or what she was doing: again it felt like ages waiting for my change. I actually held onto the counter, steadying myself, holding onto my consciousness just as strongly.
And that's the last thing I remember.
BANG.
Being out of it, unconscious or in my fainting spell, I still don't know what to call it, but in that dream-like sequence, I felt so good. In that moment, I felt dreamy, like I was well rested, and waking up from a dream. That's the only way I can explain it. This good, warm feeling. That was the feeling, the sense I had. The next thing I could remember in coming to, as my vision was returning (I refrain from saying "as I opened my eyes" because my Mum claims they were open the whole time - freaky!) was thinking to myself "what a nice sleep, what a nice rest." Then I saw about 3-4 faces in front of me, looking down at me, talking. But I couldn't hear what they were saying. I could tell I was on the floor lying down, because they were above me.
Then the realisation. I had fainted. I suddenly remembered the last few moments in a rush. And this was my thought pattern.
"Oh shit! Damn it, I fainted!"
"Oh, if I'm on the floor, how come my head doesn't hurt from falling?"
"Where's Mum? Not here, good, she won't be freaking out."
My doctor was right in front of me, saying "it's ok, you're ok."
I sheepishly whispered "how embarrassing. I didn't wanna make a scene."
The doctor and the receptionists around her were saying, "just relax, we've got a wheelchair for you," and I was like "oh my gosh the whole waiting area can see me! How embarrassing! As if she read my thoughts, my doctor said, "it's ok you'll never have to see these people again!"
At about that moment I saw my mum: poor Mum. She was crying and freaking out, and as I sat down on the wheelchair, one of the receptionists said, "I think your Mum needs a wheelchair!"
They wheeled us to one of the back rooms, onto a spare bed, and I was instructed to lie down, have some water and a lollypop.
I kept saying "this really isn't necessary, I'm ok" but according to one of the receptionists there I wasn't going anywhere until I'd had a proper lie down. But my Mum was being consoled more than anyone! I was consoling her, because she had freaked out at what had happened. Once she had calmed down slightly, she filled me in on what I hadn't been aware of.
She was all too ready to walk out the door, when she had seen me come out of the doctor's office and line up to pay. She was close to the door, ready to start walking to the car, but says something inside of her told her to wait, that she would be needed. Mother's intuition. My Mum's psychic, I know, so this doesn't surprise me. That's a whole blog in itself.
Next thing she knows, she sees the woman waiting near me or behind me, I'm not clear on that, holding my arm, as if to support me. Meanwhile, I'm staring off into the distance, off centre to the ceiling, as if focusing on a dot somewhere far away. Focusing and slightly crouched over. This must have been while I was out, because I can't remember this.
My Mum started to worry. With me looking abnormal and all. The receptionists behind the counter now all had their attention on me, observing me very carefully. I think my mum freaked out, and they said "don't worry, calm down, she's fainted." Well, I guess seeing me the way I was, non-responsive in a zombie-like state, my Mum couldn't calm down, and kept pressing them to "do something!" They said they would call someone, but my mum, anxious to get immediate help, knocked on the door of the doctor I'd just seen: it was one of the closest offices to the waiting area. My doctor immediately opened the door to my Mum's frantic "My daughter has fainted please help."
I think at this point the receptionists were lowering me slowly to the ground, on some sort of blanket. They brought over a wheelchair and were all crouched over me, observing me carefully, with my doctor there too. It was around this point that I came to, and realised what was happening.
I was slightly shaken and very amazed by the events that had unfolded that morning. We ended up going to my sisters and relaying what had happened to her. Of course only after I'd had my water and lollypop. Funnily enough, NONE of the receptionists asked me what had happened, or why. It makes me wonder how many other people have fainted there! I guess they just knew... and perhaps wanted to save me the embarrassment of having to explain. I'm not too sure.
But after talking with my sister, I was starting to get a better picture of what had happened, and possibly why it had happened. Here are my conclusions:1. I had been VERY nervous prior to my appointment. Reason no. 1 = Stress
2. My sister suggests when you're nervous you don't breathe properly, not enough oxygen goes into your lungs. Reason no. 2 = Lack of Oxygen.
3. I had had a light breakfast, as I was nervous about the upcoming appointment. I didn't have any food fuel to keep me going through the stress. Reason no. 3 = Little food.
4. I had a jacket on over my three-quarter length top, and it had been warm in the car, and in the waiting room. I had kept it on the whole time. Reason no. 4 = Heat.
5. I stupidly started to think about what had just happened, making me nauseous. Reason no. 5 = Nauseous.
6. My sister thinks we suffer from low blood pressure. Which is good in a way, but means that we are prone to feeling faint or nauseous at times like this. She suffers from it, and as I've just learnt so does my Dad. Dad, big and strong? Apparently so. Reason no. 6 = Low blood pressure.
So I think it's a combination. Yes I obviously suffer from low blood pressure (even thought the doctor measured it at the start of the appointment, and said it was fine, my sister thinks it can still mean we're fine but on the LOW side) and that coupled with the fact that I was stressed, warm, wasn't breathing properly and had had a light breakfast, equalled me fainting.
It makes sense when I look at all the other times I fell.
The first time, heat was concerned. I was in a really hot room and I suddenly stood up.
Heat + Low blood pressure = Fall.
The second time, I was feeling nauseous from my sister's story. Now that I think about it, it was morning then, and I'm sure I would have only had a really light breakfast. Nauseous + Light breakfast + Low blood pressure = Almost fall.
The third time it was nauseousness by the bad news I'd just heard. And stressed. Obviously I'd had no food as we'd been woken at four in the morning. And I wouldn't have been breathing properly from the shock. Nauseous + Stress + No Food + Lack of Oxygen + Low blood pressure = Fall.
And now it was everything. All the conditions. Stress + Nauseous + Lack of Oxygen + Light breakfast + Heat = Faint.
So any one of those key conditions, when coupled with my low blood pressure, equals NO GOOD. I need to watch myself now, and be more aware.of how I'm feeling, to avoid a similar fate in the future, and further embarrassment.
It's just soooo weird. Honestly. When I look back to that moment, of feeling faint and holding onto the counter, to my next recollection of seeing faces staring down at me in concern, in between having the oddest yet most serene sensation of being in a beautiful, rested dream, it is just mind-boggling.
Hollywood, you got this one right.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Efficient vs. Slack, Going vs. ...... Going.
So yeah, lately I have been super efficient with blogging. Which means soon I'm gonna have no time for it at all. It's the calm before the storm....
And I do tend to crap on, sometimes. Often. More often than not. Ha ha. So I'll try reduce the director's instinct and in quoting an Aussie satire program "Edit it there."
So, I was watching a repeat ep of Scrubs just before. And it's the ep where
****************SPOILER ALERT**************SPOILER ALERT************SPOILER ALERT**************
Laverne is in a coma and dies. You know the receptionist lady. And then only a short time after that, our main boss at work called all the people in our immediate area into a group, and announced that one of the employees had resigned. It came as a shock I guess, because it WAS out of no where, but then again, seeing as he was kind of the problem child of the workplace, with being late, irresponsible and sometimes, well slack, from what I hear anyway, I guess it was coming. So you could sort of tell when our boss announced it to everyone, that it wasn't your typical resignation announcement of "Yeah, we're happy for him to go on to greater things!" it was more like "I'm telling you first before the rumours start."
I can't really lie here: this news doesn't really affect me. I din't work with him directly or speak to him a whole lot. What do I REALLY mean by that? Well that I won't miss him, frankly put. Maybe it's due to the fact that he upset me with a few comments, maybe it's because after he found out I was engaged he treated me differently, coldly (long story).
But then going back to the Scrubs ep, seeing a regular cast member leave, and then thinking of this guy from our work leaving, it did make me sad. Looking at the workplace of Sacred Hearts, and then comparing it to our real one here, I thought of people leaving, and how those left behind feel. Whether it's a resignation, or something more life-changing like death, the sad but unfortunately true fact is that people move on. They think about what's happened: they whisper about it in the kitchen when they think no one is listening; during coffee break they speculate as to what will happen next. And then things just continue.
So you wonder.. when the day comes for you to leave your workplace, whether that be as a result of good or bad news, how will your colleagues, the people who said hi to you everyday, react? Will they react, will they care?
Will they secretly be pleased, or secretly mourn the loss of someone who they secretly cared for?
If you could be a fly on the wall for every conversation concerning you.. would you be happy with what you heard? Or disappointed? Sometimes it's better not to know too much. Mystery can be good.
And I do tend to crap on, sometimes. Often. More often than not. Ha ha. So I'll try reduce the director's instinct and in quoting an Aussie satire program "Edit it there."
So, I was watching a repeat ep of Scrubs just before. And it's the ep where
****************SPOILER ALERT**************SPOILER ALERT************SPOILER ALERT**************
Laverne is in a coma and dies. You know the receptionist lady. And then only a short time after that, our main boss at work called all the people in our immediate area into a group, and announced that one of the employees had resigned. It came as a shock I guess, because it WAS out of no where, but then again, seeing as he was kind of the problem child of the workplace, with being late, irresponsible and sometimes, well slack, from what I hear anyway, I guess it was coming. So you could sort of tell when our boss announced it to everyone, that it wasn't your typical resignation announcement of "Yeah, we're happy for him to go on to greater things!" it was more like "I'm telling you first before the rumours start."
I can't really lie here: this news doesn't really affect me. I din't work with him directly or speak to him a whole lot. What do I REALLY mean by that? Well that I won't miss him, frankly put. Maybe it's due to the fact that he upset me with a few comments, maybe it's because after he found out I was engaged he treated me differently, coldly (long story).
But then going back to the Scrubs ep, seeing a regular cast member leave, and then thinking of this guy from our work leaving, it did make me sad. Looking at the workplace of Sacred Hearts, and then comparing it to our real one here, I thought of people leaving, and how those left behind feel. Whether it's a resignation, or something more life-changing like death, the sad but unfortunately true fact is that people move on. They think about what's happened: they whisper about it in the kitchen when they think no one is listening; during coffee break they speculate as to what will happen next. And then things just continue.
So you wonder.. when the day comes for you to leave your workplace, whether that be as a result of good or bad news, how will your colleagues, the people who said hi to you everyday, react? Will they react, will they care?
Will they secretly be pleased, or secretly mourn the loss of someone who they secretly cared for?
If you could be a fly on the wall for every conversation concerning you.. would you be happy with what you heard? Or disappointed? Sometimes it's better not to know too much. Mystery can be good.
Can anything derived from ones own creative mind ever be truly Original?
I'm pondering this thought, following from my recent surfing of the web site TV Tropes. A couple of posts ago I mentioned my discovery of this site, and I guess one way of describing what tropes are, are not to say they are cliches or stereotypes, but familiar conventions found across various forms of media. Whether it is the archetypal stairs found in living rooms of American sitcoms (see my previous post!), or the convention of certain heroine or evil personality traits you'd find in movies ( a really basic example I know ) they are traits that pop up regularly over time and tend to endure, becoming re-born and remastered to enter into the current popular culture more easily. It appears in a variety of media outlets in various contexts, therefore becoming a media trait, a "trope."
There that's my uni essay explanantion.
I was checking out a few different sections, reading about tropes and trying to think of any I may have noticed in movies and TV.
And I'm starting to really think that in this day and age, with the multitude of current film and literature, coupled with the amount already present in our history, for the aspiring writer or film-maker, game creator and tv producer, there can really be no original idea or thought. Every idea is derived from somewhere, every convention already exists, and although your idea may have a different name to it, and your characters may be called Sue and Trent as opposed to Mary and Ken, the story will most likely fundamentally be the same.
Even if we believe to have a truly original idea, our thought patterns, and novel creative inspirations are most likely to have derived from something in our distant memeory, from something we've read, or seen, or even experienced. No matter what convention one may use in his/her literary work, undoubtedly it will already be present elsewhere, somewhere in a form of media text, in this great big wonderful world of ours. So much of our past forms our current and future experiences, so it would be impossible NOT to draw upon knowledge we've learnt or acquired in our past.
Something to think about next time you get an idea..... (!)
There that's my uni essay explanantion.
I was checking out a few different sections, reading about tropes and trying to think of any I may have noticed in movies and TV.
And I'm starting to really think that in this day and age, with the multitude of current film and literature, coupled with the amount already present in our history, for the aspiring writer or film-maker, game creator and tv producer, there can really be no original idea or thought. Every idea is derived from somewhere, every convention already exists, and although your idea may have a different name to it, and your characters may be called Sue and Trent as opposed to Mary and Ken, the story will most likely fundamentally be the same.
Even if we believe to have a truly original idea, our thought patterns, and novel creative inspirations are most likely to have derived from something in our distant memeory, from something we've read, or seen, or even experienced. No matter what convention one may use in his/her literary work, undoubtedly it will already be present elsewhere, somewhere in a form of media text, in this great big wonderful world of ours. So much of our past forms our current and future experiences, so it would be impossible NOT to draw upon knowledge we've learnt or acquired in our past.
Something to think about next time you get an idea..... (!)
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
When I was 14, I was right - Part 2 (The Elephant in the Room)
I often have a particular thought. This thought comes to me every time I find myself somewhere unexpected. In particular, if it's a place that, years earlier, if you had told me I'd be there, I would have said "Get out! No way!"
It was later on, after high school, in my early uni years, where I felt more sad, rather than upset, about the whole thing. About how it had ended. About how we had both eventually tried to patch things up over the years, to no avail, no response from the other party. It seemed we were out of sync: when one was ready to make up, the other wouldn't hear of it. And the funny thing is, it was all unspoken. We knew this, just because, we knew. We knew each other so well and knew what we were feeling, even without a word being spoken. Without a glimmer of any argument or ill word.
There was a point at which, I grew so saddened by the situation in retrospect, that although I wanted to catch up, the thought of calling her terrified me. I mean, 6 years had past, how would I know that she cared? Rejection is a powerful force, and it kept me from calling...but it didn't keep me from sending a birthday card.
I'd decided once again to use her birthday as an opportunity to reach out. I did send a card, just with a simple happy birthday message..... from me. I refrained from saying anything about the friendship, or suggesting a catch up, because I thought if she wanted it, she would call and say thanks, and therefore the conversation would probably naturally lead in that direction anyway.
However I never did get a phone call, nothing. I often wondered if she had moved house, or if the card got lost...... yeah, that makes you feel better doesn't it? Easier to believe that than to think the worst.
I ended up bumping into her a few times, funnily enough she came into the store where I worked casually, and although initially and totally shocked by the encounter, we both remained casual and made small talk. As if never had ever happened. But clearly it had. Or we wouldn't be partaking in small talk.
And I asked her: had she received my birthday card? It had been at least a year since then, and I had to know.
Her response? A coy smile, yes and a thank you.
Oh, it was all very well and good. Thank you for telling me all I had to know about what you thought of our once-friendship, and that you clearly didn't care. I shouldn't have been upset, it was better to know than to go on believing she cared. Because if she did she would have called and said a simple thank you.
But I just couldn't push it out of my mind. Unfinished business it was. And I truly believed that a simple incident, so many years ago, had stuffed up a fantastic friendship.
Years went on. Occasionally I had dreams. They would occur maybe every 6 months or so. Probably after I had thought of her, of the situation. But in every dream, we would end up friends again. Talk about dream fulfillment.
Life went on. Jobs, friends, came and went, and then life turned busy. I joined the social interactive network known as "Facebook" and shortly after that, life got even busier when I started planning my wedding.
And one day, while checking my inbox, I saw it. She had requested me as a friend on Facebook. Obviously, she had come across me, maybe through our mutual link to some groups, and decided to "add" me as a friend.
I'll keep the next part brief: a few messages went across, back and forth between us, blah, blah, blah, and we kept saying that we should catch up, but with, well life, it just didn't turn out. I got married and that was it.
Actually by that stage I was pretty much over it. I guess I hadn't admitted that fact to myself, but I was. I'd slowly, subconsciously, come to the realisation that, it wasn't meant to be. Regardless of how the friendship had ended and through what means, it clearly wasn't meant to be, despite random meetings and intentional phone calls and methods of contact. The universe clearly didn't want it to happen.
And why should I have wanted it to happen? I had fantastic friends in my life. In fact, two of my besties are truly my besties. I love them so dearly, and we have such a fun, loving and honest relationship, that really there seemed no need to actively pursue a friend, who I'd seen in the past, wasn't sure herself of what she wanted.
People change yes. But when your friends change, and you stay as is, finding the change difficult to accept..... well, in a life where I had the best friends anyone could want, I honestly didn't need to go back to that.
Funny how when you don't want things, the universe presents it to you..... "here.... do you want it? take it, take it!"
A few weeks ago, late at night after dinner at my parents, I had to make a quick stop at the supermarket to get some lunch meat for work the next day. I made my usual selection, and after standing in line, I proceeded to pay. It was then that I felt a soft tap on my arm, and I looked at my left to see who it was.
It was her.
My former, late, ex, call her what you will, my previous bestie.
It was a shock I tell you that much. After she paid for her own item, we spoke for a bit. It felt funny, surreal, more like something out of my dream. Two former friends bump into each other at the supermarket late at night, and end up making uncomfortable-but-trying-to-be-casual small talk, while the 15 year-old barely legal shop assistant continues to put items through for customers, wanting to finish his shift but simultaneously straining to hear our conversation.
We ended it quickly: she had somewhere to be, and we both left, through opposite exit doors of the supermarket. I felt relieved for the encounter to be over, but also, a bit sad. A part of me had thought: "you should have suggested a catch-up, it was the perfect opportunity."
But the more I thought about it as I drove home, with hubbie beside me listening to music, was that I was good. I was ok with things. I actually had no more of a need to want to mend things. To finish things that were unfinished, whether that be finish them in a good or bad way. I could leave everything as is, and accept life for what I had and what was, what was real. We were always going to be just small talk friends, despite our history, and I no longer cared. It wasn't in a bad way, I was just over it all. And I pondered this, and I was content about it, on the drive home.
Late that night, I received a text message on my mobile. I noticed the unknown number, and thought it was due to the fact that that week I'd messaged a whole lot of people about my upcoming birthday. Clearly I'd messaged someone who now had a new number. I was busy when I got the message, and so almost forgot to check until about half an hour later.
It was her. Again.
Proof of the fact that even before that night I was already over everything, was the fact that when I'd changed mobile phones and was reentering friends contacts into my new mobile, I 'd decided to keep her number out. I had even forgotten about that at first, reading her message, thinking "she has a new number....." then again distantly remembering my decision months earlier.
In her message, she made light of the fact that we'd bumped into each other, and suggested it was time for a catch up. After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing in our messages, we decided to catch up for coffee a few days later. I felt weird. I felt good, surprisingly so, as if my wish had come true way too late, but clearly not late enough, as I obviously still had these lingering incomplete feelings in regards to our fallen friendship, and the fact that I was pleased meant I hadn't totally given up hope. Or had I?
Finally, the day came. Not after days, not even after weeks and months. But at least a decade. Because that's how long it had been, since all of this happened. All of this confusion, not speaking to one another, all the frustration and anger. And we were actually meeting. It felt quite surreal.
Which is probably why the whole experience felt like I wasn't there. I felt oddly calm and relaxed. Part of it probably was due to the fact that we had known each other so well, that it was easy to slip into each other's lives again. But.... there was just something odd.
We sat, we drank tea, talked, caught up on each other's lives, work, relationships, holidays, family. I don't think there were any long silences, at least not long in terms of staring off into the distance trying to find a topic to speak of.
She was the same, but different of course. The years make you more mature in some ways, and I'm sure she thought that of me too. She was her same, friendly, talkative self. But more subdued. More grown up. As if she's gone through a bit. She mentioned something big that had recently happened in her life, with quite ease, which proves my theory.
I guess the main point of weirdness for us that night, was the elephant in the room. I'd thought about this elephant a lot, before our meeting that night, and wanted to confront that elephant with her. This wasn't just any normal elephant. I mean, this one was bright pink, had bells and whistles, a party hat, and a little white tutu. Quite extraordinary I must say. And the whole time, this elephant sat right next to us. Just watching, like a tennis match, as we exchanged light conversation.
And not once, throughout this whole meeting, did we acknowledge the elephant. Poor elephant, waiting there, just wanting to be talked about. It's almost 11 years old, and we didn't even mention it's upcoming birthday.
Ha.
Despite all the time we'd passed, neither was brave enough to broach the subject of what happened so many years ago. We both pretended that everything was cool. That we disappeared from each others lives quite easily, as if part of normal everyday life. I had wanted to bring it up so badly, bring up that glaring, waiting, anticipating elephant so much, but I just couldn't. It would have been too confronting too soon. I didn't know what was right or wrong, really. It was just too hard to confront all that, at an easy, catch-up-on-the-past-decade-of-our-lives-over-tea meeting.
So we finished our teas. And walked to our cars. And said we would catch up again, when she got back from her holiday.
And we got in our cars and drove off.
And I thought "next time, I'll bring up the elephant. At our next meeting it'll be more appropriate."
But, as I drove home, feeling quite normal about the whole night, I realised something.
I wasn't sure if I wanted there to be a next time.
I thought really slowly and carefully about this for the rest of the way home. Which brings me to my post title. When I was 14.... was I right?
This whole time I'd always thought that it was the circumstance surrounding our unofficial break-up, fuelled by our puberty enraged hormones and teenager natural-bitch-tendency that had created this whole mess. And now I was beginning to see that I may have been right all along. At 14 years, despite my raging hormones and mildly unreasonable anger, I could have had a moment of complete clarity, a moment where I could have forseen the future, which involved two friends, slowly growing apart due to different interests, their lives heading in two different directions. And I chose the opportunity for a not-so-clean break.
This realisation has really stunned me. Years of wondering "what if?" have now changed to "I may have been right all along." Right to leave things as they were. Suddenly seeing things differently, from a new perspective, after struggling so long to deal with what happened, is somewhat, liberating. Especially when you learn that despite the puberty blues, you were right.
I don't know. That's why I use the word 'may.' May have been right.
She's still on holiday as far as I know. There's been no contact since. Only time will tell whether our odd-meeting was due to the fact that it's been so long, and it will take time to get into each other's lives again: that is, our encounter was fated to be.
OR, whether it was just a culmination of the past decade, proving that some things, are just best left behind.
Life can be weird. It gives you things when you least want them, and tests you by taking away often what you think is dearest to you. However, life is at it's most unique when it shows you that you were right all along. I'll find out soon enough if this is the case for me.
It was later on, after high school, in my early uni years, where I felt more sad, rather than upset, about the whole thing. About how it had ended. About how we had both eventually tried to patch things up over the years, to no avail, no response from the other party. It seemed we were out of sync: when one was ready to make up, the other wouldn't hear of it. And the funny thing is, it was all unspoken. We knew this, just because, we knew. We knew each other so well and knew what we were feeling, even without a word being spoken. Without a glimmer of any argument or ill word.
There was a point at which, I grew so saddened by the situation in retrospect, that although I wanted to catch up, the thought of calling her terrified me. I mean, 6 years had past, how would I know that she cared? Rejection is a powerful force, and it kept me from calling...but it didn't keep me from sending a birthday card.
I'd decided once again to use her birthday as an opportunity to reach out. I did send a card, just with a simple happy birthday message..... from me. I refrained from saying anything about the friendship, or suggesting a catch up, because I thought if she wanted it, she would call and say thanks, and therefore the conversation would probably naturally lead in that direction anyway.
However I never did get a phone call, nothing. I often wondered if she had moved house, or if the card got lost...... yeah, that makes you feel better doesn't it? Easier to believe that than to think the worst.
I ended up bumping into her a few times, funnily enough she came into the store where I worked casually, and although initially and totally shocked by the encounter, we both remained casual and made small talk. As if never had ever happened. But clearly it had. Or we wouldn't be partaking in small talk.
And I asked her: had she received my birthday card? It had been at least a year since then, and I had to know.
Her response? A coy smile, yes and a thank you.
Oh, it was all very well and good. Thank you for telling me all I had to know about what you thought of our once-friendship, and that you clearly didn't care. I shouldn't have been upset, it was better to know than to go on believing she cared. Because if she did she would have called and said a simple thank you.
But I just couldn't push it out of my mind. Unfinished business it was. And I truly believed that a simple incident, so many years ago, had stuffed up a fantastic friendship.
Years went on. Occasionally I had dreams. They would occur maybe every 6 months or so. Probably after I had thought of her, of the situation. But in every dream, we would end up friends again. Talk about dream fulfillment.
Life went on. Jobs, friends, came and went, and then life turned busy. I joined the social interactive network known as "Facebook" and shortly after that, life got even busier when I started planning my wedding.
And one day, while checking my inbox, I saw it. She had requested me as a friend on Facebook. Obviously, she had come across me, maybe through our mutual link to some groups, and decided to "add" me as a friend.
I'll keep the next part brief: a few messages went across, back and forth between us, blah, blah, blah, and we kept saying that we should catch up, but with, well life, it just didn't turn out. I got married and that was it.
Actually by that stage I was pretty much over it. I guess I hadn't admitted that fact to myself, but I was. I'd slowly, subconsciously, come to the realisation that, it wasn't meant to be. Regardless of how the friendship had ended and through what means, it clearly wasn't meant to be, despite random meetings and intentional phone calls and methods of contact. The universe clearly didn't want it to happen.
And why should I have wanted it to happen? I had fantastic friends in my life. In fact, two of my besties are truly my besties. I love them so dearly, and we have such a fun, loving and honest relationship, that really there seemed no need to actively pursue a friend, who I'd seen in the past, wasn't sure herself of what she wanted.
People change yes. But when your friends change, and you stay as is, finding the change difficult to accept..... well, in a life where I had the best friends anyone could want, I honestly didn't need to go back to that.
Funny how when you don't want things, the universe presents it to you..... "here.... do you want it? take it, take it!"
A few weeks ago, late at night after dinner at my parents, I had to make a quick stop at the supermarket to get some lunch meat for work the next day. I made my usual selection, and after standing in line, I proceeded to pay. It was then that I felt a soft tap on my arm, and I looked at my left to see who it was.
It was her.
My former, late, ex, call her what you will, my previous bestie.
It was a shock I tell you that much. After she paid for her own item, we spoke for a bit. It felt funny, surreal, more like something out of my dream. Two former friends bump into each other at the supermarket late at night, and end up making uncomfortable-but-trying-to-be-casual small talk, while the 15 year-old barely legal shop assistant continues to put items through for customers, wanting to finish his shift but simultaneously straining to hear our conversation.
We ended it quickly: she had somewhere to be, and we both left, through opposite exit doors of the supermarket. I felt relieved for the encounter to be over, but also, a bit sad. A part of me had thought: "you should have suggested a catch-up, it was the perfect opportunity."
But the more I thought about it as I drove home, with hubbie beside me listening to music, was that I was good. I was ok with things. I actually had no more of a need to want to mend things. To finish things that were unfinished, whether that be finish them in a good or bad way. I could leave everything as is, and accept life for what I had and what was, what was real. We were always going to be just small talk friends, despite our history, and I no longer cared. It wasn't in a bad way, I was just over it all. And I pondered this, and I was content about it, on the drive home.
Late that night, I received a text message on my mobile. I noticed the unknown number, and thought it was due to the fact that that week I'd messaged a whole lot of people about my upcoming birthday. Clearly I'd messaged someone who now had a new number. I was busy when I got the message, and so almost forgot to check until about half an hour later.
It was her. Again.
Proof of the fact that even before that night I was already over everything, was the fact that when I'd changed mobile phones and was reentering friends contacts into my new mobile, I 'd decided to keep her number out. I had even forgotten about that at first, reading her message, thinking "she has a new number....." then again distantly remembering my decision months earlier.
In her message, she made light of the fact that we'd bumped into each other, and suggested it was time for a catch up. After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing in our messages, we decided to catch up for coffee a few days later. I felt weird. I felt good, surprisingly so, as if my wish had come true way too late, but clearly not late enough, as I obviously still had these lingering incomplete feelings in regards to our fallen friendship, and the fact that I was pleased meant I hadn't totally given up hope. Or had I?
Finally, the day came. Not after days, not even after weeks and months. But at least a decade. Because that's how long it had been, since all of this happened. All of this confusion, not speaking to one another, all the frustration and anger. And we were actually meeting. It felt quite surreal.
Which is probably why the whole experience felt like I wasn't there. I felt oddly calm and relaxed. Part of it probably was due to the fact that we had known each other so well, that it was easy to slip into each other's lives again. But.... there was just something odd.
We sat, we drank tea, talked, caught up on each other's lives, work, relationships, holidays, family. I don't think there were any long silences, at least not long in terms of staring off into the distance trying to find a topic to speak of.
She was the same, but different of course. The years make you more mature in some ways, and I'm sure she thought that of me too. She was her same, friendly, talkative self. But more subdued. More grown up. As if she's gone through a bit. She mentioned something big that had recently happened in her life, with quite ease, which proves my theory.
I guess the main point of weirdness for us that night, was the elephant in the room. I'd thought about this elephant a lot, before our meeting that night, and wanted to confront that elephant with her. This wasn't just any normal elephant. I mean, this one was bright pink, had bells and whistles, a party hat, and a little white tutu. Quite extraordinary I must say. And the whole time, this elephant sat right next to us. Just watching, like a tennis match, as we exchanged light conversation.
And not once, throughout this whole meeting, did we acknowledge the elephant. Poor elephant, waiting there, just wanting to be talked about. It's almost 11 years old, and we didn't even mention it's upcoming birthday.
Ha.
Despite all the time we'd passed, neither was brave enough to broach the subject of what happened so many years ago. We both pretended that everything was cool. That we disappeared from each others lives quite easily, as if part of normal everyday life. I had wanted to bring it up so badly, bring up that glaring, waiting, anticipating elephant so much, but I just couldn't. It would have been too confronting too soon. I didn't know what was right or wrong, really. It was just too hard to confront all that, at an easy, catch-up-on-the-past-decade-of-our-lives-over-tea meeting.
So we finished our teas. And walked to our cars. And said we would catch up again, when she got back from her holiday.
And we got in our cars and drove off.
And I thought "next time, I'll bring up the elephant. At our next meeting it'll be more appropriate."
But, as I drove home, feeling quite normal about the whole night, I realised something.
I wasn't sure if I wanted there to be a next time.
I thought really slowly and carefully about this for the rest of the way home. Which brings me to my post title. When I was 14.... was I right?
This whole time I'd always thought that it was the circumstance surrounding our unofficial break-up, fuelled by our puberty enraged hormones and teenager natural-bitch-tendency that had created this whole mess. And now I was beginning to see that I may have been right all along. At 14 years, despite my raging hormones and mildly unreasonable anger, I could have had a moment of complete clarity, a moment where I could have forseen the future, which involved two friends, slowly growing apart due to different interests, their lives heading in two different directions. And I chose the opportunity for a not-so-clean break.
This realisation has really stunned me. Years of wondering "what if?" have now changed to "I may have been right all along." Right to leave things as they were. Suddenly seeing things differently, from a new perspective, after struggling so long to deal with what happened, is somewhat, liberating. Especially when you learn that despite the puberty blues, you were right.
I don't know. That's why I use the word 'may.' May have been right.
She's still on holiday as far as I know. There's been no contact since. Only time will tell whether our odd-meeting was due to the fact that it's been so long, and it will take time to get into each other's lives again: that is, our encounter was fated to be.
OR, whether it was just a culmination of the past decade, proving that some things, are just best left behind.
Life can be weird. It gives you things when you least want them, and tests you by taking away often what you think is dearest to you. However, life is at it's most unique when it shows you that you were right all along. I'll find out soon enough if this is the case for me.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Stairs in TV....... the regularity in the world of sitcom
Just before I was watching American Dad, and something struck me.
First it was the opener. I noticed, that during the opener, in the part when Stan (the all macho typical Dad hierarchical figure) is singing and comes down the stairs, he sings towards 2 photo frames. One is the statue of liberty and, the other is Jesus.
I thought about it a bit, thinking, "hmmm, a show like this paying tribute to religion? How odd...."
I thought about it once more and remembered how the two frames were portrayed in relation to each other. And the statue of liberty photo was much bigger than the Jesus one.
Now that makes more sense. A tongue-in-cheek cartoon slyly making remark of the typical American families greater love for its country rather than its religion.
This got me thinking to my good ol' uni days, of studying film and tv and trying to make sense of it all, discovering hidden meanings behind apparently unmeaningful and basic surroundings.
And just like that it hit me: why so many stairs in American sitcoms? Staring at me in the face, there it was, on American Dad, stairs leading down into the main living area. And without even trying I knew there were countless more out there.
I quickly did a google search, wondering if my sudden realisation had already been written about by some aspiring-professional uni student out there.
And lo-and behold, I found it: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/StandardizedSitcomHousing
On a site called TV Tropes, dedicated to the tricks of writing fiction, for many forms of media. The article I read in particle was called "Standardized Sitcom Housing." Just like the title, it observes and describes the
typical sitcom house, and gives some good examples of where this has played out and in what shows.
Along with stairs, it talks about where the front door is usually situated, along with the positioning of other entry doors, the living area, kitchen, etc. Popular shows that include this layout are Full House (an old fave!), Who's the Boss and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
And which other show complies with this model? American Dad. A little pat on the back for me, I've still got it, my uni days aren't that far behind....
Looking into things a bit too much, can be fun :)
First it was the opener. I noticed, that during the opener, in the part when Stan (the all macho typical Dad hierarchical figure) is singing and comes down the stairs, he sings towards 2 photo frames. One is the statue of liberty and, the other is Jesus.
I thought about it a bit, thinking, "hmmm, a show like this paying tribute to religion? How odd...."
I thought about it once more and remembered how the two frames were portrayed in relation to each other. And the statue of liberty photo was much bigger than the Jesus one.
Now that makes more sense. A tongue-in-cheek cartoon slyly making remark of the typical American families greater love for its country rather than its religion.
This got me thinking to my good ol' uni days, of studying film and tv and trying to make sense of it all, discovering hidden meanings behind apparently unmeaningful and basic surroundings.
And just like that it hit me: why so many stairs in American sitcoms? Staring at me in the face, there it was, on American Dad, stairs leading down into the main living area. And without even trying I knew there were countless more out there.
I quickly did a google search, wondering if my sudden realisation had already been written about by some aspiring-professional uni student out there.
And lo-and behold, I found it: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/StandardizedSitcomHousing
On a site called TV Tropes, dedicated to the tricks of writing fiction, for many forms of media. The article I read in particle was called "Standardized Sitcom Housing." Just like the title, it observes and describes the
typical sitcom house, and gives some good examples of where this has played out and in what shows.
Along with stairs, it talks about where the front door is usually situated, along with the positioning of other entry doors, the living area, kitchen, etc. Popular shows that include this layout are Full House (an old fave!), Who's the Boss and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
And which other show complies with this model? American Dad. A little pat on the back for me, I've still got it, my uni days aren't that far behind....
Looking into things a bit too much, can be fun :)
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