Bubble and Squeak

Bubble and squeak is a term I came across a few months back, when browsing through some recipe books. As arrogant as this next bit might make me sound, to my surprise (and slight disgust) I discovered it was a term, rather a recipe whereby you used leftover vegies from another meal to make a 'new' meal, perhaps using eggs or something similar to combine it all together.


I think I was more disgusted at the name given to the recipe, rather than the ingredients used or the recycling of the food itself. No one eats leftovers more than Hubbie and I, so I can't say 'boo' to re-using food at all. But the name, bubble and squeak....... I don't know, what about the recipe, inspired the name Bubble and Squeak? What, about the food, makes it bubble.... and squeak...? Shudder at the thought.

However, this odd food terminology has sprung to mind in thinking about what indeed I should write about. So many odd, random, good and bad things have occurred of late, that I don't really know what to focus my writing attention on.

And this is how bubble and squeak came to mind. Apparently, the bubble and squeak is all the things that have happened lately, and the egg jelling it all together is my life.

Egg is my life. LOL.

And so the following minor stories, observations and episodic details of my life may come at you rather randomly, much like pieces of day-old carrot and peas in a mouthful of distastefully named 'bubble and squeak.'

(I'm only guessing at how it may taste). All this in an effort to bring you up to speed on my life, and also to bring me up to speed in my own life and help me to review it in progress, in what is herein going to be referred to as the 'bubble and squeak' post.

So be warned. I have NOT been taking notes.



When it comes to the good, versus the bad, unfortunately it's the bad that first springs to mind. However that only means that I have all good to end with :)



Mouth absolutely boiled me to my core, once again, on a few occasions. It becomes very hard when you have to deal with a person such as this. Even harder when it's someone in the family who you just can't avoid, unless of course you disown them, which I couldn't do without hurting many people I care about.

I get into this cycle with her. She shits me up the wall > I get upset, broody and moody and keep it all in trying to work it out in my head > it culminates in me practically exploding to Hubbie in anger and tears > after 3 days of wallowing we work out that A) I need to partially ignore her, and B) actually speak my mind and tell her when she is annoying me, in order to avoid the fantasy fights I create of her and I later on in my mind, that eventually drive me crraaaaazzzzzyyyyyyy.

So although we have danced this exact dance many times, I actually need to put the mentioned A and B acts to practice, and follow through. Otherwise nothing will ever change. Only my attitude in how to deal with her will actually change anything for me, because as we all know, an old dog will not learn any new tricks.



Lately I have been sick. Last Thursday, I barely made it into work, the only motivators being that my boss was away and I had extra stuff to do, and also, it was my last day before 3 days off. I made it in, barely could keep myself sitting straight up at my desk just long enough to do what I had to do, and left half way through the day. It was just so unbearable. Not only had I gone through a very sleepless and interrupted nights sleep, waking up what seemed like a zillion times and saying to myself "get up it's time to go to work," when in fact I still had hours to sleep, but my muscles were absolutely aching in agony. I was sooooo sore, every part of me hurt, which made me just want to curl up on my couch at home and sleep. Which I ended up doing.



It was the culmination of what had been a huge October. I don't know who else received it, but I got it a few times, both via sms and email, the chain letter about this recent October having 5 Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays? Yes and then it annoyingly tells you you must keep it going, according to the far-reaching distant natives of the land Makirouchidoo or some other tribal sounding country in order to keep the luck going, UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE. Well it might as well say that, with all the suggestive terminology making you want to send it or else meet some horrible fate. And so I did send it, and due to sending it several times during the month, it occurred to me that hey, this has been a LONG month.

And then I reminisced.

The month began with that awesome grand final win in which the Mighty Magpies brought the cup home! Finally! That had been a big weekend.

We had had my friends over, my close group, which in total added up to 8 of us, for dinner. That was a big night. There was food, there was drink, there were MANY cupcakes. And it was an awesome night.

We had ALL my cousins over. Yes, that drunk post, that was the aftermath. Needless to say I got a little-iddy-bit tipsydrunk, therefore placing the indicator of party success at HIGH.

In between we had side nights (of which I mean people over but not huge to the point of party-status-phere) where my sister came over, and Hubbie's friends. We had a wedding, we had people arriving at the airport from overseas trips. And then the month ended with Hubbie's big birthday bash, where once again we proved we could throw awesome parties and still have fun while doing all the work:)

I think I wore myself out to the disgusting point where 5 days after the last October party, my body started to shut down. It said "screw you, I'm taking leave," leaving the rest of me pathetically screaming "No! Come back damn you!"

And so the muscle aches set in, only after the sore throat and intense sneezing commenced. The flu symptoms were persistent again in days 2 and 3, where again I felt intense fatigue (due to my body running away no doubt) and cleaning the house probably didn't help me much, but hey what else was I supposed to do at home? Yeah I know I know, I could've sat in front of the telly all day. But that would have worked against my whole effective/efficient habit that I haven't been able to kick for the past 9 years.

And so today, a week after my first flu symptoms popped up, I'm still left with a consistent, grating, unrelenting cough. It is really so inconvenient. It's gone from worse, after the weekend of drinking champagne and other home-made apparently 'healing' concoctions, to just annoying now, where I still have to cough every so often - cough cough cough - excuse me, unlike this morning where I felt like I was just hacking up flem.

So all in all, it's getting better.

There was also this little moment late last week, a predecessor before the whole 'sick' thing started.... I had this interesting moment at work with a fellow colleague of mine, that totally bew me out of the water, catching me off guard completely. And it was all to do with cake.

All over some bloody cake.

In true Miss S form, I had decided to bring in to work leftover cake from Hubbie's birthday. I knew there were a few people, who would REALLY appreciate the free cake and all, and having had a huge month that was filled with way too much cakes and cupcakes and just everything sweet, early on I decided that getting rid of the mass amount we still had from Hubbie's birthday would be the right way to go.

And so in I brought it. And as I was finishing off my early shift that day, I happened across a work colleague of mine, who we shall call Kitty. Hmmm :)

She was just starting her shift, and so my intention was to let her know of the few leftover cakes there were near my desk, so she could spread the word to our other fellow workers starting later on that day as well.

As soon as I started the words "Kitty, just so you know there's some cakes over th-"

"No! Don't talk to me about cake!"

And so it began. In a very direct, firm way, she told me:

1. that she was not going to eat any cake

2. people in our work area should not be encouraged to eat cake

3. she wouldn't be responsible for making people eat cake ..............AND

4. if cake was left over, she ALSO wouldn't be responsible for getting rid of it.



What the?! All I mentioned was cake. I was a bit stunned, a bit miffed, and seeing as my sneezing had been accelerating that day, more than sensitive enough, so I was hurt. I felt like she was attacking me, personally, just for bringing in cake.

And all I was doing was trying to be nice. It was about then that another fellow colleague arrived, and I told him quite matter-of-factly that there was cake and that at least HE would appreciate it. I sort of ended the conversation by walking off, without a real proper goodbye to her.

I was really hurt by it all. I pondered it on the way home. I know she had been trying to lose a bit of excess weight that she had gained over the past year (not that she was overweight). I thought of other times that I had brought in cake, and asked myself if I had been pushy in getting people to eat the cake in order to rid myself of it. I wasn't quite sure, but I knew that then, in that moment and in that day, I had merely mentioned it, before getting a barrage of cake-hate spewing out at me.

I spoke to Hubbie about it that night, and even he thought the remarks I'd received were unwarranted and odd. I guess I felt a bit worse, as it's always a little sad when someone you normally like and get along with gives you grief. You wonder 'why' and think of where you have gone wrong. I did just that, and only ended up making myself feel MORE sadder...

Anyways, the next day, arriving at work, I saw an email from her titled 'cakes...'

Part of me had been expecting an email addressing the whole cake issue, so I was not surprised.



Miss S,


Below an email generated in an effort to try to make up for my not wanting cake comments - which came out much harsher than I meant. So sorry about that - I know it's meant in the kindest spirit....


So if they guys don't eat them - I can't say I didn't try!


Kitty



OMG. I always knew the power of Miss S was huge. I've worked in customer service and have gotten a rotten customer to apologise to me for her bitchiness without even trying. I've had my Dad, one of the most stubborn of people, say sorry to me. And he doesn't say sorry or admit to his failures. EVER. I remember Pez, my ex-best friend, calling me up and crying over the phone, saying sorry to just hanging up on me after a stupid fight.

And now this. A woman 10 years my senior, with tonnes more life and work experience, sending me an email to apologise for yelling at me about cakes. (ok not yelling but it sounds better than just 'being firm')

I'm sorry but WOAH. That's big. Of her. To be sorry is one thing, bu to say it out loud to the person you upset in the first place, is a totally different, very rare thing. So I totally applaud her for that.

Following her email to me was the message she had sent to the rest of our department, letting them know, in so many words "cake is here..... eat or else!" So she helped me with my cake distribution, and that, along with admitting her overzealousness in cake-hating, means we are now friends again:)



I have been good in the pursuit of writing my story. I find that when I just start to jot down and write random plot ideas, character traits and story outlines that I am further inspired and motivated to do more research and develop my dream of writing professionally even more. A few nights I have found myself just doodling quite casually, and the following day I find I have the characters and the potential things they could get up to just running around and around in my head. I'm happy with the fact that it stays in my head, because it's sort of confirmation that what I'm thinking is not only interesting, but addictive and worthy, because if it weren't so, I tell ya it wouldn't last long in my over-imaginative mind. I still plan on eventually (whenever I actually finish my first book, after the actuality of beginning to write it) getting Hubbie, Sis and Red to read it and to tell me what their honest, honest, honest opinions on it are. I will ask them to be brutal, and then I think I will run away and hide. Something about getting someone so close to you to critique your work, actually fills me with a sick, sick feeling, and no not the kind that is cough-inducing. More the type that will churn your stomach contents and force them in a vertical motion. Hell, even when I see that people have read my blog, I freak out slightly, and that's people I don't know, with no critical response whatsoever!



But baby steps. All little baby steps. All in the right direction.



Speaking of baby steps. Had a massive, major, incredible !!lightbulb!! moment a few nights ago with Hubbie, Sis and her Hub. It is actually so incredible and major, that if this thing were to eventuate, it could change all of our lives, I believe MAJORLY. But because it is so big, we aren't actually letting people know of our "idea" until hopefully the day that it is fully under way and in full practice. No, sorry I can't even let my imaginary blogger-verse know about it. All off-limits. But I just had to say, it is AMAZING. Funny how something can be under your nose, in your face for so many years, and you just don't know that the opportunity has been staring you in the face the whole time. I think that is called TIMING.



And in more recent fantastic news, I have been shopping. Ahhhhh, how sweet the pursuit of clothes via monetary means and the accumulation of said-clothes can be.

Sweeeetttt.

Yesterday I purchased a very fine jacket. It was during some morning-afternoon shopping before my work shift, and Hubbie and I had just had enough. We were talking about clothes we had, clothes we usually went for, and the clothes that we should go for.

And we made a deal. No longer were we going to go for the safe, normal option. We weren't going to just buy, in my case, more plain tops, black dresses and ballet shoes, or in his case, more chequered shirts and blue polo tops. We were gonna go a bit wild, edgy, and start playing it up. We had decided, and we were sick of it!

Gosh just thinking of our new-found pact, and of all the clothes I could have if I had become shopping-smarter, sooner, just gives me even more AMMO to shop. You see, by always going for the 'safe' shopping option, you end up with a wardrobe that is not only identical, but that lacks creativity. By choosing items of clothing that will go the distance over the coming seasons, you end up lacking the current individuality that you so deserve.

Pieces of clothing can be wild and outrageous, and go the distance, if chosen correctly. I think of the alternative style of dwellers living in the edgy parts of outer-city Melbourne, and I highly doubt that they purchase with the aim of getting the most years out of their clothes, yet they still manage to do so. And still look good in seasons to come. Certainly I don't plan on moving to those suburbs, but the thought of a wild, indy-style wardrobe, with 50s style dresses, hippie skirts, bright colours and edgy alternative cuts of clothing, is greatly appealing to me right now. And what excites me more than anything (perhaps level with the accumulation of clothes though!) is the idea that if it is different, we will not look at the price of an item, we will just buy it.

Let's put that in simpler terms. If something is different = BUY!$!$!

I know! How incredibly monetar-ily free-ing is that idea! Of buying whatever as long as it's DIFFERENT! And Hubbie came up with that idea too. I know I married him for a reason :-D
It's not so easy just to want to do something. You have to also delete all the pre-wired talk in your mind, reset your shopping habits and think outside the square if you're going to start doing things differently. For example this morning, when Hubbie and I were shopping (yet again, we're on a roll) at before-mentioned outer-city suburb, I was in this full bohemian-hippy shop, which had A LOT of dresses. I came across a black and white one with a lot of ruffles near the neck line. It is a gorgeous dress, not too extreme, but even so, when I tried it on, I loved it but was still going "oh, I don't know, it has A LOT of ruffles at the front!"
You see, the old Miss S would have said "those ruffles won't help me move from season to season, year to year." But the new one, asked Hubbie for confidence, pushed through the doubt and went "you know what? I look great in this! I'll buy it!"
Now that I'm thinking differently about my clothes shopping selections and habits, I feel as if I'm a slightly different person, like I'm looking at life all differently. I can even imagine myself in one of the two dresses I bought today, (!) wearing a huge oversized straw hat and swinging from a hammock, with the current song "Something in the Water," playing in the background. Weird. I don't even own a hammock.

It's just inspiring, and so good to know, that not only with clothes, but all decisions in life, all paths taken, roads chosen, any change of direction is just a mind-set away. If you want to make the change, you can, and WILL. It's so easy. You just say "I'm going to look for a new job," "I'm getting a totally new haircut," or in my case "I'm changing my clothing style." It is so uninhibiting to realise you can do whatever you want to in life. As long as you want to.

Now that I've given you my daily awe-inspiring motivational life-quote, concluding tonights mammoth blog post (it started at work and is now ending after midnight at home) I will leave you with this thought for the night:

Everyone knows what eggs are. Eggs are eggs. But what you do with your egg will make a difference. Will you boil, poach or fry? Will you add spices and bacon, spinach and cheese, or place it on toast? What about the quality of your egg? Will it be free-range and wholesome? Grain-fed?
What you make of your very ordinary-seeming egg, will make the rest of your morning. Just as your decisions, will make your seemingly ordinary life, extraordinary.


(Definition to metaphor provided for clarity and due to lateness of post)

Twilight obsessions and the Pez Dispenser

That post title almost sounds like a book in the Lord of the Rings series.



'The legend of Twilight obsessions and the Pez Dispenser.'

LOLOL.


Anyway, thought I might give you a quick follow up on some recent goings-on. The Pez story? You know, ex, former, bestie? Well, after I suggested on her facebook page that we catch up, perhaps on a Monday, she hasn't written anything back. Which is cool. I don't mind. I'm chilling, I'm hip with it all. But oddly intrigued. I know that if she were to respond, I'd be like "Noooooooo!"


Or would I?


LOLOL.


She has "liked" some of my recent status' (totally unrelated either consciously or sunconsciously to her in any way) and I wanted to "like" one of hers recently, however I decided against it, making the decision that if I would "like'' it, I would be tempting her to respond to my earlier question about catching up, out of guilt, like what I think occurred weeks ago (outlined in my post "Oops, I did it again"). And I say I think in reference to the guilt part.

So no interaction unless it comes from her. I wanna see what happens, or doesn't happen.

I ended up watching Eclipse again, with Hubbie. And yes, it was awesome. More awesome than awesome, I loved it. I was watching it from a purely different viewpoint this time. Rather than critical, I was more absorbed, intrigued, even though I knew what would play out on screen. And you know what? I actually change my initial standing, I think the movie does an exceptional job of bringing what we've read to life on the big screen. Considering the length of the book and how much detail goes into it, we get to see a lot of the good, juicy, and integral storylines.

I really loved it:)

And I had tears in my eyes in 3 scenes!

1. Bella and her Mum: when her Mum gives her that quilt, saying that it will keep her warm in Alaska, and maybe one day her children will need it, and Bella gives her that poignant, moving, emotional hug. Ohhhhhhhh! So sweet and sad.


2. Jasper and Bella: After Jasper recounts his back story to Bella, Alice comes up behind him, and one of them says something like "I was waiting for you" in reference to the other coming into their life. And they share the sweetest look and kiss. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! So romantic and sweet.


3. Edward and Bella: I'm less sure of this one, but I'm almost certain it's when they are lying in her bed, and he is assuring her that he will love her even when she is a vampire.

Oh, oh, oh! How could I forget the most important Edward and Bella moment, when he proposes to her on bended knee.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Such a girl I know. But it is a beautiful moment, so sweet, romantic, and special. How could you not be moved?


Another highlight was Hubbie's response to it. On the way home, I was asking him what he thought of it. I'm always especially interested in his viewpoint when it comes to the general Twilight series, because:


A) he is a man, and I don't understand how men can be so intrigued by the story (and I say that in the least condescending way possible, I only say it because I believe it is targeted at a female audience)

B) he hasn't read any of the books.


He first stated, quite simply, that he thought the first installment was the best, Twilight. I don't know why that is, but it might have something to do with the hype only just beginning, and in general, perhaps people didn't have many expectations of it.

Then he asked, quite seriously: "Why is Bella so depressed and complaining all the time?"


LOLOL. Story of everyone's Twilight-life, question on everyone's lips after reading the books, is always about Bella. I tried to explain, and I think I did, but I couldn't help thinking of it again and again.


It really made me laugh. Well, at least with a comment like that, you definitely know the film has brought across at least one major theme from the books!

Oops, I did it again

In the famous words of Homer, D'oh.
Why can't I leave well enough alone? Why must I push and push and...... sigh.
Here we go again.
In the continuation of my former, ex-best friend never-ending saga, there are further developments.
But let's stop right there for a moment. Let's give this girl a name for Pete's sake. (And why Pete???)

Let's call her.......Pez. Ha ha. I'm the only one laughing because I know why.
So I had left her a facebook message on her profile page, from last recall. My message had outlined what I'd been up to lately, and then, in line with my stupid 'test' I put the question to her. I had suggested we catch up, as we had planned so many many months earlier but had never gotten around to, hence leaving the ball in her court, to either lob back, or simply let fall to the ground.
A few days passed, and nothing. No sign, no message, no news, no response from Pez. And so I thought to myself, "Cool." I was happy. Really, TRULY I was. I thought to myself that she clearly wasn't interested in a catch up or just wasn't sure about it, and I didn't reproach her for it, because honestly, I wasn't sure myself.
Thinking all was over, and I don't know WHY I thought I had to do it, but I made a facebook status in response to this recent turn of events. Honestly, I don't know what I was trying to achieve. Was I trying to bait her with a reply? Was I pretending I was ok when I wasn't? I truly feel cool about it all, I feel no hostility towards her whatsoever, and yet, I decided to write this, for all to see on my facebook page:

Thank you, I asked you a question and you answered. Now I can move on :)

Now, is that really obvious, or is that REALLY obvious? At the time I didn't think it was really obvious. I thought, "hey, it's clearly a statement that can be made to illustrate ANY life situation, any person, any event."
About one day passed after that status update, when I received an email notification, telling me that Pez had written something to me.
O-M-G. We meet again.
At the time I absolutely shit myself, thinking she had responded DIRECTLY to my status. But in fact, no, she was just responding to my earlier post on her wall about catching up. Her response sounded quite genuine. She enthusiastically agreed that a catch-up was a great idea and that we should do it, despite the fact that things were crazy busy at the moment.
I could have kicked myself in the butt, if I had been able to dislocate my leg to do it. Now all I could think of was, "is she responding because she wants to, or because she read between the lines in my status?"
D'oh, d'oh, d'oh.
Oh, if only I hadn't been so philosophical about different stages of life, friends coming and going, everything has a meaning, la di da di da. Blah.
Now the only thing I can do is wonder. Wonder what her true feelings are. And sadly, I do regret typing that status. Because a part of me did want this stage of my life to be over. And now I feel I'm forced into a puppet show, with my idiotic 'life-is-so-meaningful' bullshit big mouth pulling the strings.
Ahh!
So, because I've made my bed, and now I must sleep in it, I responded to her message last night. I suggested a day that suits me for our catch-up, and I've let her know that if that doesn't work, we'll try another day and......
You know, all that fake I really care crap.
Yeah I know. I must sound like a real bitch right now. More than upset at anyone or anything, I'm upset at myself, and why I didn't just let things be.
And you know what? If this meeting does end up happening..... it's Now or Never.
In the harmonious words of Elvis, "Tomorrow will be too late, it's Now or Never....."
I will bring up the Elephant in the Room, God help me I will. Because really, I don't care anymore, and really, I have nothing to lose.
That's a sequel to keep anyone on the edge of their seat.

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.

When I was 14, I was right

I mentioned in my first post, that since my birthday I'd grown up and realised a few truths. One of those involved an old friend. Well, used-to-be-friend? Let me explain.
There was a girl, who years and years ago I was the absolute most, best, friends with. We were besties from primary school right up until early high school. About 7 years I'd say. We even survived moving schools and different friends. A fond memory I have, which I guess isn't a specific memory but nontheless, was us being in grade 1 or 2, and after spending the whole day together at school, still calling each other up at the end of the night to talk more. I mean, come on, how much do 7 year olds have to say to each other?
Then puberty came along. Well, call it puberty, call it growing up, changing, what you like. My side of the story is that I felt she was changing. In particular, a certain friend of hers, I felt was making her change, making her act differently, making her, not... her.
And I must admit. I was probably jealous. Upset by the fact that this was a new friend that she was hanging out with a lot. It didn't help that her new friend was quite frankly, a bitch. Yes, she was quite up herself and derogatory in her comments and general demeanour. So the story was, I didn't like her, or her influence on my bestie.
But I kept quiet. And instead vented in my diary. I'd kept a diary for years and loved the therapeutic benefits of storytelling my life. Much the reason why I've started blogging. Sadly I feel like I don't have time for old-fashioned diary writing in my life anymore, which is why the convenience of having a computer at work has helped me start blogging.
So one day, after an overseas trip I had taken with my parents, my bestie had come over so I could give her a low down on my trip, in particular any guy gossip that may have occurred.....?
I was still shy and old-fashioned. No I hadn't picked up while I was there, although there had been guy situations, but nothing like what she expected.
So I felt a bit of her disappointment, already in that short time of her visit. She was already "experienced" in the art of picking up, or that was how she portrayed it, probably due to her bitchy friend. So her stage of life was far advanced to mine, or that was how I was made to feel.
Anyway, I was going through my diary to jog my memory, recounting the holiday to her, when I was called for lunch. I remember this next moment clearly. We were both sitting on my bed. I left the diary on my bed. Unlocked but closed. It had one of those little locks which you needed a key to open, however the lock went around a metal hook, in order to keep the pages hidden and safe from being read. And I very clearly remember the book being slightly propped up by the hook, but it was still closed. I guess it's hard to envisage if you haven't had one of these diaries, but you get the picture.
And I walked away, leaving her alone in my room.
When I came back, 15 minutes later, I sat back down on the bed to continue my holiday recounting process. And noticed the hook part of the diary had "slipped." It was now not propping up the book's pages, the book was fully closed, with the hook slightly on the side.
This was not a hook that could move by itself. Even shuffling around on a bed could not move it. It had been moved.
Which only meant one thing. She had read my diary.
And I knew it. She was different. Quiet. Contemplative. Short answers, small conversation.
I didn't say a thing. Acted normal. I ended up walking her to her house, sussing out her body language. We said goodbye as normal. Said we'd talk again and catch up soon. And that was it.
That was the last day she was my best friend.
I thought about it that night. She had read my diary. Not only had she read it, invading my personal space and betraying my trust, but ironically, in doing so she had discovered MY betrayal of her. For within those pages I had had bursts of rage, both at her and at her friend. She would have seen this undoubtedly, on my "graffiti page" where I just wrote random thoughts and feelings as teens do on their school folders and pencil cases.
I know I could have called her. I could have confronted her about it, or I could have explained myself. But I chose to stay quiet. I didn't like the person she had become, and I was angry.
Days, weeks, months past. Not one of us made an effort to contact the other. A mutual friend of ours (well, more my friend, as she was my OTHER best friend, who went to her high school) spoke to her, and it seems the gist of it was that I wasn't calling, so why should she?
We were in a battle of who cared most to break down the stubborn barrier.
In fact, sadly, we never did make up. Our relationship remained as it was, unfinished, undefined, up-in-the-air. We hadn't even had a proper fight to warrant not speaking. I had chosen her betrayal, and also her changing personality, to just give up. She had undoubtedly chosen MY betrayal, to stand her ground. And so, a great friendship of 7 years, just disappeared.
There was minimal contact. On my birthday the following year, she contacted me to wish me a happy birthday. I said we should catch up in the next few weeks. But I never called her. And she took that as rejection. I wasn't ready, and the wounds were still fresh. I was still upset.
Then when her birthday came around, I was ready. I called to wish her a happy birthday, just as she had done for me the previous year. This time she said it: "We should catch up in the next few weeks, I'll call you."
I knew what that really meant. It was as if I could hear her inner voice speaking out to me over her audible voice, saying "stuff you, you can wait now."
And I was right, she didn't call.

But what happened years later? Something I never would've expected. A place I'd never have expected myself to be........ To be Continued