Wow. So I haven’t written in a LONG time.
I lie. I write heaps, I just haven’t written in here.
I think it’s time for a bit of a catch-up post, don’t ya think?
So life apparently, is getting better. Who am I kidding, it most definitely is. Some things I’m unable to divulge just yet (quite amusing since this is an anonymous blog) but I can say that
a) I won a competition (which helped with the red light camera fine I received)
b) family members who were sick, well are sick, appear to be getting better, and we are very hopeful (fingers crossed) that they will continue getting satisfactory and positive results
c) and in the month leading up to Red’s wedding, it was a massive reunion with all our friends, including Blonde (yes, it appears she gave up on her stubborn stance, in my opinion anyway – listen to her reason for attending “it just worked out with work” LOL)
Following the wedding Hubbie and I went away, and now we’re looking forward to the year of 2013. I’ve never been keen on the number ‘13’ yet it seems life has other things in store for me, wanting to turn my perception of the number into a REALLY good one. Watch this space.
There’s nothing quite like cracking it at someone who you have confused or unresolved feelings about. This happened at Red’s wedding with Blonde. Hubbie was paying her a lot of attention, and hugging her and talking to her, and I was getting peeved because I felt like when I was talking to her, she was being quite flippant about it. This continued for a couple of hours, until I cracked and said in front of her and Hubbie “Blonde has her own friends tonight,” referring to the table she was at.
Now let me get things perfectly clear: I have no issues, no jealousies whatsoever when it comes to Hubbie showing affection to the people I love most: this most particularly includes my sister, Red and Blonde. In fact, it fills my heart with such joy when I see these people getting along with Hubbie so well, that I feel as if my heart might burst. I love it sooooo much, it makes me so happy. But it was the fact that he was giving her attention, and I felt she wasn’t me, that I said the above remark with very much intended and directed malice. No subtlety there.
And, I’m one of those ‘nice’ people. I hate the word, but it’s the only way to explain. You know those people who never crack it? Well I do crack it, however quietly, and not directly at people. So if in the rare circumstance I have a go at someone, a close friend who knows me so well, I suspect a part of them cries internally.
I don’t mean to brag, but it’s just how it is, and I saw it in Blonde’s face and how it changed so much when I said it. Hubbie went “ooooh,” and I danced away, as you do at a wedding, but with my insides raging.
I later felt the true meaning of guilt and foot-in-the-mouth syndrome when I spoke to a close friend of Blonde’s. In talking about how we need to catch up, she mentioned how she had said to Blonde “I hope Miss S isn’t upset how I haven’t made an effort, I’ve been so busy,” to which she told me Blonde replied with “no, Miss S is so sweet she can’t get upset.”
Insert massively uncomfortable rock in centre of stomach.
I felt so bad. Blonde perhaps had her own issues that day; she was back in the country, having to deal with family issues even as she was at the wedding, and maybe was feeling a little envious that I was such a huge part of the bridal party, and she wasn’t. Maybe she had her own things going on.
I went to visit her at one stage at her table, and kind of, not really casually, but in a way so as not to get too deep into it, I said “I’m sorry about before, what I said, just forget it.”
She went “why? What happened? Why were you upset?”
I tried to brush it off, saying something like “don’t worry.” I was too ashamed to go through the real reasons; I felt too selfish to say ‘I feel like you don’t care about me’ when she had so much going on. Her behaviour following that was immaculate. Not to say you should crack it at your friends just to get them to pay attention to you, but she proved to me how much she does care, with remarks like “and this was here at your wedding, and I remember this, and that” etc and etc. She remembered things I didn’t. I felt touched, yet so bad for what I’d abruptly said.
She continues to send me messages from overseas, with things like “I bought you this. One for me, my sister and you.”
I see what you’re doing Blonde. I see.
My writing project has temporarily stalled. My first writing project. Intentionally I might add, which makes it acceptable I think. I’ve decided it’s inappropriate sending out a synopsis with chapters and all the bits and bobs to market the book, to prospective agents when it’s the yuletide/holiday season. So I’ve deliberately put it on hold until after Christmas, (which is now) but I’ve given myself the deadline of about 2-3 weeks into Jan by which to have it sent by, to the initial agent who showed interest if I reduced the word count.
Oh that. Yeah I didn’t get to reduce it by much. (very little, shh) But I figure she can’t tell that from the first 3 chapters.
Oh, and I still drink coffee. Like now. Hence my randomly impromptu post. I’m out.
Showing posts with label Red. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Red. Show all posts
Friday, December 28, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
My Blonde Continuation
That sounds like it should be a title in the Bourne series.
I was going to use the word conclusion, but then I realised when it comes to this girl, nothing she does, no motive, no event, is really ever going to be final or conclusive. Just as our friendship.
Boy was my dream right. The hole in her top from being shot at, represents the shots being fired at her in real life. Her sister didn’t tell me this when I asked about Blonde, because she too is involved in the family turmoil that is clouding them all.
Without getting into detail, shit has happened, life changes and choices abound, and she feels like a little lost puppy, with many places to go, but with no real home.
I’m feeling quite torn and confused after our almost 2 hour Skype chat. I feel deeply sorry for her, and I even shed some tears of my own about my life in amongst her tear-stained face. We were a couple of massive sooks on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.
And, although my question of why she hasn’t made contact with me in ages has sort of been answered, in another way it kind of hasn’t. Although she said she tends to bottle things up, she mentioned how she’s been speaking to another close friend of hers, and I couldn’t help thinking ‘who contacted who?’ It’s very likely that the ‘other’ friend contacted Blonde, but I’m kind of wondering, festering slowly over the annoying chance that Blonde went to her… and then I must ask – why didn’t she come to me?
I know it’s a lot of ‘what ifs?’ but there’s the other annoying thing, the part where she didn’t mention, or take note ofthe fact that I was quite worried about her these last few months. Either she is oblivious to it, or doesn’t care that I was looking for her. I know she’s had a lot on, I get it; however I had this really overwhelming emotion come over me when we were talking, and I thought to myself ‘I’ve been listening to everyone this year, from their happiness, to mostly their crap and problems and issues with life, and now it’s time for me. What about me?’
What about me. That has been circling my head for a couple of days now. I need someone to listen to me as well. I need someone to care. I need someone to ask if I’m doing alright. I’m a person with real needs and emotions too.
The day after our Skype chat I noticed she had sent me an email which I hadn’t seen at the time. She said she was going to bed. Having not seen this, I’d logged onto Skype and she had told me she’d get out of bed when I messaged her. I just thought she was resting there… that shit me too. Here we are, we haven’t spoken in yonks, I’m worried about her, and she can’t stay up for a bit to talk to her ‘close’ friend? I can’t say bestie anymore…
I know she cares… but I just have to wonder. I wonder if I’ve invested more into this friendship than she has, and I feel that is apparent from her failure to acknowledge my concern, in her absence of reaching out to me in her hard time, and in the fact that she was still crying over Red. That makes me sad too; but I’m here. There is someone who cares. I don’t know if she’s seeing that, or if I’m looking into things too much.
I can’t talk to her for a while now. As hard as it is, and as much as I wanted her to know I'm thinking of her, I need to distance at this point in time. As much as I learnt the other day, I feel like I know that much less about our friendship. And the not-knowing hurts.
I was going to use the word conclusion, but then I realised when it comes to this girl, nothing she does, no motive, no event, is really ever going to be final or conclusive. Just as our friendship.
Boy was my dream right. The hole in her top from being shot at, represents the shots being fired at her in real life. Her sister didn’t tell me this when I asked about Blonde, because she too is involved in the family turmoil that is clouding them all.
Without getting into detail, shit has happened, life changes and choices abound, and she feels like a little lost puppy, with many places to go, but with no real home.
I’m feeling quite torn and confused after our almost 2 hour Skype chat. I feel deeply sorry for her, and I even shed some tears of my own about my life in amongst her tear-stained face. We were a couple of massive sooks on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.
And, although my question of why she hasn’t made contact with me in ages has sort of been answered, in another way it kind of hasn’t. Although she said she tends to bottle things up, she mentioned how she’s been speaking to another close friend of hers, and I couldn’t help thinking ‘who contacted who?’ It’s very likely that the ‘other’ friend contacted Blonde, but I’m kind of wondering, festering slowly over the annoying chance that Blonde went to her… and then I must ask – why didn’t she come to me?
I know it’s a lot of ‘what ifs?’ but there’s the other annoying thing, the part where she didn’t mention, or take note ofthe fact that I was quite worried about her these last few months. Either she is oblivious to it, or doesn’t care that I was looking for her. I know she’s had a lot on, I get it; however I had this really overwhelming emotion come over me when we were talking, and I thought to myself ‘I’ve been listening to everyone this year, from their happiness, to mostly their crap and problems and issues with life, and now it’s time for me. What about me?’
What about me. That has been circling my head for a couple of days now. I need someone to listen to me as well. I need someone to care. I need someone to ask if I’m doing alright. I’m a person with real needs and emotions too.
The day after our Skype chat I noticed she had sent me an email which I hadn’t seen at the time. She said she was going to bed. Having not seen this, I’d logged onto Skype and she had told me she’d get out of bed when I messaged her. I just thought she was resting there… that shit me too. Here we are, we haven’t spoken in yonks, I’m worried about her, and she can’t stay up for a bit to talk to her ‘close’ friend? I can’t say bestie anymore…
I know she cares… but I just have to wonder. I wonder if I’ve invested more into this friendship than she has, and I feel that is apparent from her failure to acknowledge my concern, in her absence of reaching out to me in her hard time, and in the fact that she was still crying over Red. That makes me sad too; but I’m here. There is someone who cares. I don’t know if she’s seeing that, or if I’m looking into things too much.
I can’t talk to her for a while now. As hard as it is, and as much as I wanted her to know I'm thinking of her, I need to distance at this point in time. As much as I learnt the other day, I feel like I know that much less about our friendship. And the not-knowing hurts.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Red vs. Blonde
I am currently on par with tones of burgundy in my hair, and in my late teen years there was always some streak of blonde, or multiple streaks of platinum running through my locks to make it fair.
This however, is not a post about hair colour. Rather it has to do with two of my closest buddies.
Red.
Blonde.
I love them both dearly. Red, I have known almost all my life. Even when we weren’t best friends before our high school days, we knew each other and even hung out for a short period of time in primary school. Friends for over 20 years, besties for about 15. That’s an impressive stat.
Blonde I’ve known for a bit less. Her I’ve known for 13 years, since high school, but it was in our post high school years that we grew even closer. I guess I’d say she’s been my ‘other’ bestie for about 7 years. Still a good feat.
I never say Blonde’s my bestie in front of Red. Nor do I say it about Red, in front of Blonde, though Blonde has heard it plenty out of Red’s mouth. The furthest I’ve gone, to speak about the other to the one I’m with, is to say “my closest friends.” But I’ve never said ‘best.’
Up until maybe a year ago, and especially in our early 20s, when Blonde was still living in the country, we were VERY VERY tight. The three of us. It was a constant ball. I always felt I was a good blend of the two. Red is more conservative in some respects, and I mean that only in the sense of not being so rude, not so out there with the sexual innuendos. No swearing, she’s good and kind and sweet to all people. She’ll bend over backwards for you, and is always smiling, always positive, cheerful and good-natured.
This is not to say she is boring or uninteresting in anyway, as most people think with ‘nice’ people (strike that – I hate the word ‘nice’). We’ve had the biggest laughs together Red and I. We share the same goofy, silly humour, generally the same taste in music, and have the same zest for life, constantly inspiring and motivating each other to reach higher, to achieve our wildest most unimaginable dreams. Because we know they’re not unimaginable. We know we can make them come true.
Blonde on the other hand, is quite… crazy. She has a very addictive personality: people just want to be around her. She is refreshing, in that she says whatever she’s thinking, does things without inhibition, and talks and talks until the cows come home. I have the utmost respect for her, because unlike ‘other’ motor-mouths who fail to realise that other people exist in their presence, when I speak, Blonde stops, and listens. She REALLY listens.
Blonde can sometimes be forgetful. She’ll forget your birthday; she’ll say she’s coming over, but then call 2 hours later and say, ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry (because she can see through her sensory x-ray long-distance vision that I’m turning purple) but I’m coming now!’ And because of her happy-go-lucky persona, you always forgive her.
I like being a combo of the two of them, and that probably shows why I get along so well with them both. I think I’m sweet and kind like Red, willing to do a lot for my closest friends and family; yet like Blonde, I can be a bit rude, be a bit rash when the moment permits. I have a healthy dose of her wild side, yet a substantial portion of Red’s considerate-ness at the same time. Thoughtful yet crazy, I think.
They’re kind of the two extremes, yet we ALWAYS got along. Got along. One of my favourite memories, proof of how I’m a bit of both personalities, was when we went shopping together a while back, and Red upon looking at a kind of see-through top to try on, asked the shop assistant “do you have a singlet so I can put it on under this?” The guy started to look around, upon which Blonde jokingly said “no Red, you try it on like that so we see your boobs,” quite loudly, so the shop assistant could hear (he was gay by the way). As Blonde laughed out loud, and I giggled compulsively, Red turned to Blonde, shot her a dark look and said angrily “Blonde! That’s rude, don’t be so loud!”
Although that’s a fave memory, maybe that’s not the best example of the three of us. Maybe I use that example because that’s when I noticed things started to change. By that stage, it wasn’t 3 musketeers. It was 2. Or the ‘other’ 2. Never 3. I was always part of the 2. And by that time, from that incident, I started to realise I was leaning on the side of Blonde a bit more.
It almost hurts me to write this. I love them both so much. I wish the crap that had happened never did: not that anything, any event as such happened; it was just a slow removal, a non-revealing of information, non-sharing of life experiences, a waning of contact that led to the slow parting of Red and Blonde.
I don’t think Red would think they’ve parted. In true Red style, and though I love her for her positivity, her focus on that thing only leaves her with a bit of a dream-like, rose-coloured glasses view of everything. She doesn’t realise Blonde is shitty with her. She doesn’t realise she could have involved her more in her wedding. She doesn’t realise she hasn’t put into the friendship – she just thinks because she’s been busy, that Blonde understands.
It’s not just that. There are a few more nitty-gritty issues, things that got in the way and screwed things up. Other friends, partners.
Blonde sees it though. Blonde is hurt. And Blonde tells me all about it. Told me all about it.
Sigh.
I’m a bit stuck you see. I love both these girls. They fulfil parts of me, in completely different ways, and I’m the luckiest, most freaking blessed girl to have people like this in my life. Add to that my sister, who really, truly is (not biased, no joke) the best, most fantastic sister in the world – and I know it’s true because all my friends love her, even those who have sisters, wish they had her as one instead – and in the words of another friend, I feel like I’m shitting rainbows in the girlfriend department. I’m set.
Back in the day when we used to spend time together, Red, Blonde and I, it was magnificent. I actually can’t find an adjective appropriate enough to describe the time spent together. Explosive? Thrilling? Meaningful? Deep? Out of this world? If I was lesbian, I would probably have an affair with both of them, let’s just say that’s how much I love them.
And that’s the problem. I’d have an affair with both of them.
It would be so good, every time was the best time. Lately though, with the absence of both of them, simultaneously in my life, and with all of life’s changes… I’m missing those times. Thinking of it now, God I’m missing those times. SO BAD.
With all the shit and crap, doom and gloom and with all of life’s frustrations that have been so prevalent not just lately, but on and off for the past year, I’m missing that… and one of them more in particular.
Blonde.
Maybe it’s because the grass is greener. Blonde is overseas, I haven’t seen her in about 5 months, and I haven’t spoken to her in about the same time. No joke. Instead I’ve been busy with Red, and helping her plan her wedding.
And with all that’s been going on lately, I had a massive pang of sadness hit me last week. I miss Blonde. I need her. I need to talk to her. I want to know where she is.
Some best friend huh?
Blonde works overseas, and was going on holiday in that region a while ago. Up until just before my birthday, I knew what country she was in. I’d tried to call her before she left for her holiday, but her phone wasn’t working. She said she’d Skype me, but in true Blonde fashion, she never did. When she didn’t call me for my birthday, I was a bit sad: she makes an effort to remember my birthday, and I know she wouldn’t have forgotten it, despite how scatter-brained she can be at times.
I realised she wasn’t posting on facebook, AT ALL. In fact she still hasn’t. I’ve contacted her sister twice to ask about Blonde: once her sister said she was overseas and her normal phone wasn’t working; and most recently when I asked again, she mentioned Blonde was travelling to a conference. Well that sounds like she’s back at work. So why hasn’t she called me?
I’ve been a bit stubborn. I wanted to talk to Blonde earlier this year to tell her the exciting news that I’d finished my book. But when she didn’t call for my birthday I felt a bit rejected, honestly I did. Up until recently I was like ‘stuff her, she should call me, she should know I’ve been chasing her.’ But then I was like ‘does she?’ If she hasn’t updated her facebook, she wouldn’t see the messages left there. Her sister may not even be telling her (she can be the jealous type) and I even had a dream about her, where someone told me she had been shot, and all I saw of her was her top with a hole in it.
That made me worried. I started to doubt my stubbornness, and wonder whether I should just woman up and call her. If it’s your friend, you forgive them I say. Not just that, but you don’t know what’s been happening. You don’t know their side of the story. For all I know something bad has happened and she hasn’t been able to call. But her sister would have told me, surely…
But then again the other day I saw she ‘liked’ something on facebook – even though she hasn’t put anything on her page. So she IS around. But where IS she? I wonder whether she is avoiding us all, maybe because she doesn’t want to go to Red’s wedding. Maybe this is all in protest, in not having been chosen to be a part of the bridal party, in not having been chosen to be included AT ALL.
It’s just so confusing, and so frustrating. And so sad. I don’t know what to do. I miss her, and it’s actually HER that I miss. Despite my love for both of them, I actually need to speak to Blonde. With all that’s been going on, I feel I need to let my feelings out, and that Blonde is the right person to talk to. To air my grievances with. Red would listen I know, but she’d be all, “look on the bright side, be positive,” and I actually don’t need that. I want someone to listen, and to say “that’s shit.”
That’s Blonde. I need her matter-of-fact, listen without trying to make you feel better point of view. I just need the realism of life.
Maybe I just need to try call her again. Now.
This however, is not a post about hair colour. Rather it has to do with two of my closest buddies.
Red.
Blonde.
I love them both dearly. Red, I have known almost all my life. Even when we weren’t best friends before our high school days, we knew each other and even hung out for a short period of time in primary school. Friends for over 20 years, besties for about 15. That’s an impressive stat.
Blonde I’ve known for a bit less. Her I’ve known for 13 years, since high school, but it was in our post high school years that we grew even closer. I guess I’d say she’s been my ‘other’ bestie for about 7 years. Still a good feat.
I never say Blonde’s my bestie in front of Red. Nor do I say it about Red, in front of Blonde, though Blonde has heard it plenty out of Red’s mouth. The furthest I’ve gone, to speak about the other to the one I’m with, is to say “my closest friends.” But I’ve never said ‘best.’
Up until maybe a year ago, and especially in our early 20s, when Blonde was still living in the country, we were VERY VERY tight. The three of us. It was a constant ball. I always felt I was a good blend of the two. Red is more conservative in some respects, and I mean that only in the sense of not being so rude, not so out there with the sexual innuendos. No swearing, she’s good and kind and sweet to all people. She’ll bend over backwards for you, and is always smiling, always positive, cheerful and good-natured.
This is not to say she is boring or uninteresting in anyway, as most people think with ‘nice’ people (strike that – I hate the word ‘nice’). We’ve had the biggest laughs together Red and I. We share the same goofy, silly humour, generally the same taste in music, and have the same zest for life, constantly inspiring and motivating each other to reach higher, to achieve our wildest most unimaginable dreams. Because we know they’re not unimaginable. We know we can make them come true.
Blonde on the other hand, is quite… crazy. She has a very addictive personality: people just want to be around her. She is refreshing, in that she says whatever she’s thinking, does things without inhibition, and talks and talks until the cows come home. I have the utmost respect for her, because unlike ‘other’ motor-mouths who fail to realise that other people exist in their presence, when I speak, Blonde stops, and listens. She REALLY listens.
Blonde can sometimes be forgetful. She’ll forget your birthday; she’ll say she’s coming over, but then call 2 hours later and say, ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry (because she can see through her sensory x-ray long-distance vision that I’m turning purple) but I’m coming now!’ And because of her happy-go-lucky persona, you always forgive her.
I like being a combo of the two of them, and that probably shows why I get along so well with them both. I think I’m sweet and kind like Red, willing to do a lot for my closest friends and family; yet like Blonde, I can be a bit rude, be a bit rash when the moment permits. I have a healthy dose of her wild side, yet a substantial portion of Red’s considerate-ness at the same time. Thoughtful yet crazy, I think.
They’re kind of the two extremes, yet we ALWAYS got along. Got along. One of my favourite memories, proof of how I’m a bit of both personalities, was when we went shopping together a while back, and Red upon looking at a kind of see-through top to try on, asked the shop assistant “do you have a singlet so I can put it on under this?” The guy started to look around, upon which Blonde jokingly said “no Red, you try it on like that so we see your boobs,” quite loudly, so the shop assistant could hear (he was gay by the way). As Blonde laughed out loud, and I giggled compulsively, Red turned to Blonde, shot her a dark look and said angrily “Blonde! That’s rude, don’t be so loud!”
Although that’s a fave memory, maybe that’s not the best example of the three of us. Maybe I use that example because that’s when I noticed things started to change. By that stage, it wasn’t 3 musketeers. It was 2. Or the ‘other’ 2. Never 3. I was always part of the 2. And by that time, from that incident, I started to realise I was leaning on the side of Blonde a bit more.
It almost hurts me to write this. I love them both so much. I wish the crap that had happened never did: not that anything, any event as such happened; it was just a slow removal, a non-revealing of information, non-sharing of life experiences, a waning of contact that led to the slow parting of Red and Blonde.
I don’t think Red would think they’ve parted. In true Red style, and though I love her for her positivity, her focus on that thing only leaves her with a bit of a dream-like, rose-coloured glasses view of everything. She doesn’t realise Blonde is shitty with her. She doesn’t realise she could have involved her more in her wedding. She doesn’t realise she hasn’t put into the friendship – she just thinks because she’s been busy, that Blonde understands.
It’s not just that. There are a few more nitty-gritty issues, things that got in the way and screwed things up. Other friends, partners.
Blonde sees it though. Blonde is hurt. And Blonde tells me all about it. Told me all about it.
Sigh.
I’m a bit stuck you see. I love both these girls. They fulfil parts of me, in completely different ways, and I’m the luckiest, most freaking blessed girl to have people like this in my life. Add to that my sister, who really, truly is (not biased, no joke) the best, most fantastic sister in the world – and I know it’s true because all my friends love her, even those who have sisters, wish they had her as one instead – and in the words of another friend, I feel like I’m shitting rainbows in the girlfriend department. I’m set.
Back in the day when we used to spend time together, Red, Blonde and I, it was magnificent. I actually can’t find an adjective appropriate enough to describe the time spent together. Explosive? Thrilling? Meaningful? Deep? Out of this world? If I was lesbian, I would probably have an affair with both of them, let’s just say that’s how much I love them.
And that’s the problem. I’d have an affair with both of them.
It would be so good, every time was the best time. Lately though, with the absence of both of them, simultaneously in my life, and with all of life’s changes… I’m missing those times. Thinking of it now, God I’m missing those times. SO BAD.
With all the shit and crap, doom and gloom and with all of life’s frustrations that have been so prevalent not just lately, but on and off for the past year, I’m missing that… and one of them more in particular.
Blonde.
Maybe it’s because the grass is greener. Blonde is overseas, I haven’t seen her in about 5 months, and I haven’t spoken to her in about the same time. No joke. Instead I’ve been busy with Red, and helping her plan her wedding.
And with all that’s been going on lately, I had a massive pang of sadness hit me last week. I miss Blonde. I need her. I need to talk to her. I want to know where she is.
Some best friend huh?
Blonde works overseas, and was going on holiday in that region a while ago. Up until just before my birthday, I knew what country she was in. I’d tried to call her before she left for her holiday, but her phone wasn’t working. She said she’d Skype me, but in true Blonde fashion, she never did. When she didn’t call me for my birthday, I was a bit sad: she makes an effort to remember my birthday, and I know she wouldn’t have forgotten it, despite how scatter-brained she can be at times.
I realised she wasn’t posting on facebook, AT ALL. In fact she still hasn’t. I’ve contacted her sister twice to ask about Blonde: once her sister said she was overseas and her normal phone wasn’t working; and most recently when I asked again, she mentioned Blonde was travelling to a conference. Well that sounds like she’s back at work. So why hasn’t she called me?
I’ve been a bit stubborn. I wanted to talk to Blonde earlier this year to tell her the exciting news that I’d finished my book. But when she didn’t call for my birthday I felt a bit rejected, honestly I did. Up until recently I was like ‘stuff her, she should call me, she should know I’ve been chasing her.’ But then I was like ‘does she?’ If she hasn’t updated her facebook, she wouldn’t see the messages left there. Her sister may not even be telling her (she can be the jealous type) and I even had a dream about her, where someone told me she had been shot, and all I saw of her was her top with a hole in it.
That made me worried. I started to doubt my stubbornness, and wonder whether I should just woman up and call her. If it’s your friend, you forgive them I say. Not just that, but you don’t know what’s been happening. You don’t know their side of the story. For all I know something bad has happened and she hasn’t been able to call. But her sister would have told me, surely…
But then again the other day I saw she ‘liked’ something on facebook – even though she hasn’t put anything on her page. So she IS around. But where IS she? I wonder whether she is avoiding us all, maybe because she doesn’t want to go to Red’s wedding. Maybe this is all in protest, in not having been chosen to be a part of the bridal party, in not having been chosen to be included AT ALL.
It’s just so confusing, and so frustrating. And so sad. I don’t know what to do. I miss her, and it’s actually HER that I miss. Despite my love for both of them, I actually need to speak to Blonde. With all that’s been going on, I feel I need to let my feelings out, and that Blonde is the right person to talk to. To air my grievances with. Red would listen I know, but she’d be all, “look on the bright side, be positive,” and I actually don’t need that. I want someone to listen, and to say “that’s shit.”
That’s Blonde. I need her matter-of-fact, listen without trying to make you feel better point of view. I just need the realism of life.
Maybe I just need to try call her again. Now.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Imagination can drive you to Insanity
I’ve come to a very unhealthy conclusion. My imagination is both my greatest strength as it is my Achilles heel.
I haven’t been writing creatively (as in story book writing) for a couple of weeks, as I try to leave my work alone, letting it stew in my head as I continue to get slow trickling feedback on my book via the few people who are actually reading it (more on that later). Apart from my blogging and other journaling, this removal from writing and thinking about my characters, the absence of being in their world and constantly thinking up inventive ways to make the work interesting, has given me TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK. Waaayyyyy too much time. And it’s not good. Not good at all.
Shit happens when I think too much. I over-analyse. I create bullshit scenarios in my head that aren’t true. I imagine how much better my life can be, when there is actually no problems in it (minus Motor-Mouth – there’s a name you haven’t heard in a while – but I’m just learning how to completely ignore her shit so all is relatively good there).
Just last week, I was talking to Densley on our morning coffee walk, and he mentioned a FB status of mine where I mentioned something about finding myself. He said to me “why would you be upset? You’ve got everything anyone could want in life!”
He completely stumped me there. Both for his frankness, and for apparently knowing me, or perceiving my life better than I was doing myself. I replied with a smile “maybe one day we can talk about it, I’ll tell you then.” Of course I was referring to my book, my upsets over work, and other projects Hubbie and I have going on in our personal life at home, but I didn’t wanna tell him that, as it’s all very private right now.
Yet I felt such a sudden awareness, a selfishness overcome me with his words, and I had to think “am I creating elephants out of ants as I usually do?” Am I really upset for no good reason at all?
It’s my freaking head. I need to write. I’ve had so many creative stories running through me for over a year now, that upon completion and failing to continue to use that now-trained part of my brain, I’m finding myself looking to create dramas and angst in my own life, when there is no reason to. There is no need to, but try telling the overused part of my head that, the part that like your mother wants to cook for you even when you have moved out of home.
The findings? Well I need to try and stop thinking, or start channelling these creativities into my next book, before I completely screw up my life and everything in it with my magical fixed-ness to unbroken things. I have sent off an email today to a prospective agent (everyone is prospective to me) hoping that they will like what I tell them about my story and ask to see some at the very least of my manuscript. I’m putting off checking my email for a response for as long as possible, trying not to get far ahead of myself. Maybe I should be putting my energies into writing up a good synopsis. Yet the thought terrifies me. Shudder.
On a partially connected note, I have been completely blown away by my sister’s response to my story. She is one of the busiest people I know, and I’m grateful just for the fact that she has agreed to look at it. But no, she’s gone further. She’s already read 3 chapters and is constantly giving me chapter by chapter feedback, despite her unyielding manic family schedule. And she likes it, she actually likes it, and no, she wouldn’t lie to me.
My sister is giving me what I thought Red would. As besties, Red and I have been inspiring each other about our respective passions for over a year now. It took her a week to actually pick up my manuscript and start reading from the day I actually gave it to her (she messaged me on Friday night when she said she turned the first page) yet I haven’t heard a thing from her since. I absolutely refuse to message her and ask what she thinks, in a kind of fear of what she’ll say, but I also feel it’s not up to me to say anything. I just can’t believe she hasn’t: this is so unlike her. I completely expected her to be all like “it’s good” if not “I love it!” but nothing. Is it that shit? Has she been busy? Did she start reading and then have to stop, and doesn’t want to give feedback on the first chapter until she’s finished it? But she would have messaged me that that was what’s happening! That’s the confusing thing!
It’s been going round and around in my head all weekend, and even Hubbie agrees it’s weird of her not to messaged me by now. She’s not the jealous type, and she has been so supportive through all of this, excited for me, telling me “I can’t wait to read it Miss S.!” And now… NOTHING! Nothing at all! I’m sticking to my guns and refusing to message her, and I will hold out for a long time (until I need to get my hair coloured which will be about a week and a half from now so until then I can’t message her…)
My sister and Red have had a complete role reversal. I didn’t expect my Sis to give me as much feedback as she has, and to be so enthusiastic as she has been because of how busy she is, and yet she has. At least I’m getting SOME positive feedback…
And then my other bestie, Blonde – I don’t even KNOW where in the world she is. I love her to bits, but I think she’s travelling somewhere in Europe, and I don’t know where or for how long. I want to tell her about finishing my book and catch up on her life, and she’s virtually in-contactable. (Apparently that’s not a word, but screw it).
Both my besties are MIA. And I have a head full of imagination to contend with. Just great.
I haven’t been writing creatively (as in story book writing) for a couple of weeks, as I try to leave my work alone, letting it stew in my head as I continue to get slow trickling feedback on my book via the few people who are actually reading it (more on that later). Apart from my blogging and other journaling, this removal from writing and thinking about my characters, the absence of being in their world and constantly thinking up inventive ways to make the work interesting, has given me TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK. Waaayyyyy too much time. And it’s not good. Not good at all.
Shit happens when I think too much. I over-analyse. I create bullshit scenarios in my head that aren’t true. I imagine how much better my life can be, when there is actually no problems in it (minus Motor-Mouth – there’s a name you haven’t heard in a while – but I’m just learning how to completely ignore her shit so all is relatively good there).
Just last week, I was talking to Densley on our morning coffee walk, and he mentioned a FB status of mine where I mentioned something about finding myself. He said to me “why would you be upset? You’ve got everything anyone could want in life!”
He completely stumped me there. Both for his frankness, and for apparently knowing me, or perceiving my life better than I was doing myself. I replied with a smile “maybe one day we can talk about it, I’ll tell you then.” Of course I was referring to my book, my upsets over work, and other projects Hubbie and I have going on in our personal life at home, but I didn’t wanna tell him that, as it’s all very private right now.
Yet I felt such a sudden awareness, a selfishness overcome me with his words, and I had to think “am I creating elephants out of ants as I usually do?” Am I really upset for no good reason at all?
It’s my freaking head. I need to write. I’ve had so many creative stories running through me for over a year now, that upon completion and failing to continue to use that now-trained part of my brain, I’m finding myself looking to create dramas and angst in my own life, when there is no reason to. There is no need to, but try telling the overused part of my head that, the part that like your mother wants to cook for you even when you have moved out of home.
The findings? Well I need to try and stop thinking, or start channelling these creativities into my next book, before I completely screw up my life and everything in it with my magical fixed-ness to unbroken things. I have sent off an email today to a prospective agent (everyone is prospective to me) hoping that they will like what I tell them about my story and ask to see some at the very least of my manuscript. I’m putting off checking my email for a response for as long as possible, trying not to get far ahead of myself. Maybe I should be putting my energies into writing up a good synopsis. Yet the thought terrifies me. Shudder.
On a partially connected note, I have been completely blown away by my sister’s response to my story. She is one of the busiest people I know, and I’m grateful just for the fact that she has agreed to look at it. But no, she’s gone further. She’s already read 3 chapters and is constantly giving me chapter by chapter feedback, despite her unyielding manic family schedule. And she likes it, she actually likes it, and no, she wouldn’t lie to me.
My sister is giving me what I thought Red would. As besties, Red and I have been inspiring each other about our respective passions for over a year now. It took her a week to actually pick up my manuscript and start reading from the day I actually gave it to her (she messaged me on Friday night when she said she turned the first page) yet I haven’t heard a thing from her since. I absolutely refuse to message her and ask what she thinks, in a kind of fear of what she’ll say, but I also feel it’s not up to me to say anything. I just can’t believe she hasn’t: this is so unlike her. I completely expected her to be all like “it’s good” if not “I love it!” but nothing. Is it that shit? Has she been busy? Did she start reading and then have to stop, and doesn’t want to give feedback on the first chapter until she’s finished it? But she would have messaged me that that was what’s happening! That’s the confusing thing!
It’s been going round and around in my head all weekend, and even Hubbie agrees it’s weird of her not to messaged me by now. She’s not the jealous type, and she has been so supportive through all of this, excited for me, telling me “I can’t wait to read it Miss S.!” And now… NOTHING! Nothing at all! I’m sticking to my guns and refusing to message her, and I will hold out for a long time (until I need to get my hair coloured which will be about a week and a half from now so until then I can’t message her…)
My sister and Red have had a complete role reversal. I didn’t expect my Sis to give me as much feedback as she has, and to be so enthusiastic as she has been because of how busy she is, and yet she has. At least I’m getting SOME positive feedback…
And then my other bestie, Blonde – I don’t even KNOW where in the world she is. I love her to bits, but I think she’s travelling somewhere in Europe, and I don’t know where or for how long. I want to tell her about finishing my book and catch up on her life, and she’s virtually in-contactable. (Apparently that’s not a word, but screw it).
Both my besties are MIA. And I have a head full of imagination to contend with. Just great.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Half a ream, and a full ink and a half cartridge later…
… and 275 pages came out of my printer last night. Well actually 277, including the front cover and the… ‘other’ bit. No actually, it was definitely more, because when the ink started running out I had to cancel the print job, so I had a couple of scratchy looking pages that I had to re-print…
So let’s just say 280+.
It took a while let me tell you. I don’t have the newest printer, but those pages were coming out fast, and I was trying to make sure they dried (very slightly) whilst keeping them in order, which kept me constantly checking page after page. In total it took up 45 minutes of my time.
Stapling all the chapters together was like ‘wow.’ First seeing my work, my words on actual paper… it was weird. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different. I this weird sense of ‘this is it?’
When I finally handed the bundled papers to Hubbie, I was feeling ecstatic, nervous, happy and very emotional. Emotional evident from the fact that after I gave it to him I burst out into tears, turning into a crying, sobbing mess.
Even handing it over… it was so odd. I’ve been wanting to do it for so long, to finish the story and have someone I love tell me what they think. But I had this sense of not wanting to give it. Whether because it’s been MY story for so long, and now it becomes someone else’s… whether it’s because I feel it’s a part of me, and it’s like I’m giving away a part of myself… or maybe because I’m just bloody nervous about the critiques I’ll get.
I think it’s a combination of all these things.
Hubbie did lighten the mood though. When I gave it to him he was like “What? It’s ALL this? This is one book?”
LOLOL. I’m chuckling to myself now just remembering his reaction.
He thought all the different stapled parts which I’d sectioned to create the chapters was actually ONE COPY EACH, and that I’d made several copies to give to family and friends.
“No, this is one book. You think I’ve been working for over a year on just this?” I flipped through the pages of one chapter, roughly 20 pages worth.
“Far. It’s massive.”
“You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to…” (as all good wives do I set the test, the challenge…)
“I want to.” (and he passed with flying colours).
I’m going to make a document where there is slightly smaller font though, because it ended up looking bigger than I expected on page. And there were so many bloody pages! I’ll use this doc to print further copies for my sister, Red, my Mum if she wants to read it…
I need to get me some more paper and ink.
So let’s just say 280+.
It took a while let me tell you. I don’t have the newest printer, but those pages were coming out fast, and I was trying to make sure they dried (very slightly) whilst keeping them in order, which kept me constantly checking page after page. In total it took up 45 minutes of my time.
Stapling all the chapters together was like ‘wow.’ First seeing my work, my words on actual paper… it was weird. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different. I this weird sense of ‘this is it?’
When I finally handed the bundled papers to Hubbie, I was feeling ecstatic, nervous, happy and very emotional. Emotional evident from the fact that after I gave it to him I burst out into tears, turning into a crying, sobbing mess.
Even handing it over… it was so odd. I’ve been wanting to do it for so long, to finish the story and have someone I love tell me what they think. But I had this sense of not wanting to give it. Whether because it’s been MY story for so long, and now it becomes someone else’s… whether it’s because I feel it’s a part of me, and it’s like I’m giving away a part of myself… or maybe because I’m just bloody nervous about the critiques I’ll get.
I think it’s a combination of all these things.
Hubbie did lighten the mood though. When I gave it to him he was like “What? It’s ALL this? This is one book?”
LOLOL. I’m chuckling to myself now just remembering his reaction.
He thought all the different stapled parts which I’d sectioned to create the chapters was actually ONE COPY EACH, and that I’d made several copies to give to family and friends.
“No, this is one book. You think I’ve been working for over a year on just this?” I flipped through the pages of one chapter, roughly 20 pages worth.
“Far. It’s massive.”
“You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to…” (as all good wives do I set the test, the challenge…)
“I want to.” (and he passed with flying colours).
I’m going to make a document where there is slightly smaller font though, because it ended up looking bigger than I expected on page. And there were so many bloody pages! I’ll use this doc to print further copies for my sister, Red, my Mum if she wants to read it…
I need to get me some more paper and ink.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Prince did it to me
Really he did. I saw him a couple of weeks ago in his ‘Welcome to Australia’ tour, and he was gobsmackingly awesome. So good in fact, that I got sick, like Red and I did years earlier when we first saw Justin.
Yep, once again, we both got sick days later, on the same exact day. I started with muscle aches and shivers on a Friday afternoon, progressing to a temperature, that went away overnight but was replaced with a sore throat, runny nose and coughing.
There’s something so evil about getting sick on a Friday afternoon. It’s a sure-fire way to screw up your weekend.
Now, more than a week later after getting sick, I still have the same annoying, persistent, dry, cough-or-you’ll-die-choking-on-nothing-mofo cough, which is at its worst at night. In the morning it’s decent, but assisted by its good friend flem, which helps it by irritating the f$%^ out of my throat even further, making me cough incessantly but to no avail because the thick flem stays where it is, lodged in my throat, it is almost as bad in the morning because I need to blow my nose ‘til my brain hurts, or stand over the sink gagging and hacking.
This one such morning, I started coughing here early at work, to the point where I had to run away to the bathroom: I just couldn’t take it. I started spitting into the sink, trying to get the flem out, and saw a reddish colour blended into the spit.
Blood. I saw it a couple of days ago as well, but dismissed it as nothing. Seeing it again, I’m still leaning towards the ‘nothing’ theory, nothing meaning the blood is from my irritated throat. I have seen my doctor (albeit last week) and I’m hoping it goes away. Even google was surprisingly encouraging, when I typed in ‘coughing up blood from a sore throat:’ a LOT of searches came up, rather than the usual, ‘You Will Die’ ones when you try net self-diagnose.
People. Never Net Self-Diagnose.
There has been one fantastic upside to all this spluttering, blood-inducing, hacking business. Whenever I get sick like this, and then the cold progresses to my throat, there are a couple of days – well, maybe it’s more like a day and a half – where I get the most fantastic voice.
I love it. My voice is completely screwed up, cracking, breaking, sometimes no noise actually comes out if it’s REALLY bad. There’s a mix of huskiness, hoarseness, and no matter how loud, soft, quick or slow I talk, it stays there, sexy, teasing, like I should be working late night phones. I love it I love it I love it.
I started getting it late Monday, then all day yesterday I just wanted to yap on to hear myself talk, and now today, I can tell it’s going away. It’s just the most fantastic tone. So crackly and full of character, mystery, drama.
I might get (un)lucky and get the voice again when George Michael visits in November
Yep, once again, we both got sick days later, on the same exact day. I started with muscle aches and shivers on a Friday afternoon, progressing to a temperature, that went away overnight but was replaced with a sore throat, runny nose and coughing.
There’s something so evil about getting sick on a Friday afternoon. It’s a sure-fire way to screw up your weekend.
Now, more than a week later after getting sick, I still have the same annoying, persistent, dry, cough-or-you’ll-die-choking-on-nothing-mofo cough, which is at its worst at night. In the morning it’s decent, but assisted by its good friend flem, which helps it by irritating the f$%^ out of my throat even further, making me cough incessantly but to no avail because the thick flem stays where it is, lodged in my throat, it is almost as bad in the morning because I need to blow my nose ‘til my brain hurts, or stand over the sink gagging and hacking.
This one such morning, I started coughing here early at work, to the point where I had to run away to the bathroom: I just couldn’t take it. I started spitting into the sink, trying to get the flem out, and saw a reddish colour blended into the spit.
Blood. I saw it a couple of days ago as well, but dismissed it as nothing. Seeing it again, I’m still leaning towards the ‘nothing’ theory, nothing meaning the blood is from my irritated throat. I have seen my doctor (albeit last week) and I’m hoping it goes away. Even google was surprisingly encouraging, when I typed in ‘coughing up blood from a sore throat:’ a LOT of searches came up, rather than the usual, ‘You Will Die’ ones when you try net self-diagnose.
People. Never Net Self-Diagnose.
There has been one fantastic upside to all this spluttering, blood-inducing, hacking business. Whenever I get sick like this, and then the cold progresses to my throat, there are a couple of days – well, maybe it’s more like a day and a half – where I get the most fantastic voice.
I love it. My voice is completely screwed up, cracking, breaking, sometimes no noise actually comes out if it’s REALLY bad. There’s a mix of huskiness, hoarseness, and no matter how loud, soft, quick or slow I talk, it stays there, sexy, teasing, like I should be working late night phones. I love it I love it I love it.
I started getting it late Monday, then all day yesterday I just wanted to yap on to hear myself talk, and now today, I can tell it’s going away. It’s just the most fantastic tone. So crackly and full of character, mystery, drama.
I might get (un)lucky and get the voice again when George Michael visits in November
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Glass half-full Gal
All I remember is that my last post was about something where I was trying to be funny and light-hearted despite the world-turning that’s been going on since the beginning of the year.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Symmetry is screwed.... (The Peculiarity of Symmetry Part 2)
So last night we got a phone call from Hubbie's best mate. He'd heard the bad news that a guy I went to high school with, or rather we all went to high school with but he was closer in age to me and my friends, well he died on the weekend from a motorbike accident.
We were really shocked, myself probably more so. We were in several classes together, we spoke often, and I have vivid memories of him. He wasn't like a friend friend, but you know when the whole class sort of knows everyone, and everyone interacts? Well he was that person to me and my friends. At one point he was something more to one of my friends, but we'll get to that later.
He meant well, but for some reason as he got older, he deliberately pursued getting involved with the bad crowd. He deliberately made trouble in and out of class so as to gain attention, and be recognised as a bad boy. We could really see through it. Maybe that was due to the fact that he was a year younger than us, and we weren't as easily impressed by those tactics than if they had been performed by someone older than us who we feared/looked up to. That goes hand in hand in high school.
So when I heard the news about (we'll call him Seven) him yesterday, I couldn't help but think about him and be shocked by the whole events. I hadn't really heard of him since those high school days, and every so often if someone from that year was mentioned, my mind couldn't help but wander and think of where he had ended up.
So Red was my friend who he was more than just a school friend to at one stage. He was the first guy she kissed, however it didn't go any further than that, and all of us, with he and his friends, remained good friends throughout those early years of high school.
I called Red yesterday to see if she had heard. I already suspected she may have, just with the fact that everyone knows everyone: and she had. She was shocked too by it all. And then she told me something else.
"Miss S, did you hear about - (we'll call him Wavy)?"
"Which wavy?" (there are a lot of people with this common name Wavy.)
"Wavy, the one you kissed?"
"What?"
"He had c------."
I couldn't hear her. "What?"
"He had cancer. He died months ago."
I was floored. This was a guy I hadn't seen since my high school days either. I'd often wondered where he had ended up, as usually I saw some people from high school around and about, shopping, clubs, whatever. But he and his friends, (and he was sort of in the same group as Seven) I never heard anything of, and I always wondered if they were all in some bad crowd and that's why we never saw them.
Both Seven and Wavy were in similar groups. They were both a year younger than Red and I. They had died within months of each other. And they were both our first kiss'.
....
....
....
They say bad luck comes in threes, but for something like this, so horrible to happen, and then to start to see the likeness behind it all, the weird 'coincidences', is scary. I was more in shock yesterday, keen to get home and check facebook because Red told me she'd seen a memorial page for him there. She'd kept forgetting to tell me about it.
It was so hard to find it. I didnt know his last name, and I was trying all kinds of searches. And then the net kept playing up on me. Finally, after midnight last night (or should I say this morning) I found the R.I.P page dedicated to him. It was a combination of sickness, shock and dark acceptance that ran through me as I looked at the photo they had put up of him. Wavy's photo looked like him, just a but more manly, you know how guys bulk up a bit over time. Then I went to look at more photos of him that had been put up, and I almost turned away saying "no that's not him."
That horrible horrible disease. He didn't look like him. I feel so upset just thinking of it now. It's so unfair. I actually convinced myself for a moment that I had the wrong Wavy, until I looked closer at the photos. His face looked different, and his hair was closely shaved due to the treatment I'm guesing. He was such a good looking guy. He was really sweet, and really nice.
He never treated me bad. There was in fact nothing he ever did wrong. It was all me, and never was the statement "it's not you, it's me" more truer than in this case. Honestly, I liked him, and I had him for a short while until I realised I wanted something different. I was honest with him when I broke it off, and although he took it well, I have so much guilt now, wondering if I hurt his feelings or made him feel horrible.
It's amazing you know. You don't think someone has affected you, until they're gone. It's weird because I've thought of him at odd times during the years, and at one point said to myself "it's like he's fallen off the face of the earth." I actually thought that. And a couple of months ago, I thought I saw him on a train. But thinking of those photos I saw, that wasn't him on the train. Definitely not.
It may sound overly self-indulgent, and I don't mean it to sound that way, but I just hope that none of my actions affected him and made his life different. I may not have had that kind of impact on his life, just from one moment in time: and hey, I really hope I didn't. I just pray and hope that he had lots of love and happiness surrounding him at all times. And that he wasn't alone. Even though ultimately, we all die alone.
It's breaking me up inside.
I've already kind of said my goodbye, but it still feels weird, unfinished. I wish I'd known. I don't know what I could have done, what I would have done, but I almost feel like asking Red if she wants to visit their gravesites, even though I have no idea where they are. She's as blown away by all this as I am, and she is also freaking out about the symmetry of it all.
I've had a cousin murdered, another cousin commit suicide, an aunty die suddenly of cancer; and as devastating as all those things were, I'm really shook by this. They were both so young, younger than myself. For Wavy, especially, I know it's cliche to say but he didn't deserve it. He was really a greay guy. As someone on his memory page said, he hadn't even had a chance to be a husband, a father. That is so unfair.
Because he played such a monumental role in my life, as short as the time was, that's why I think I'm so blown away by it all. He died such a short time ago, and his family and friends are still writing things on his page and posting photos. It was devastating to read, but I guess good knowing he was so loved, is so loved.
I hadn't seen him for such a long time. Never would I imagine this would happen, and that he would mark such strong emotions in me after his death. I'm still in shock. I don't know what to think. I pray and hope he is safe, well and in peace where he is right now.
When it comes to death, I have no answers. I try to live my life on a positive scale every day, and look at the good, and the secret messages in everything, even the bad. I struggle when it comes to death though. As I wrote to Red "The only thing we can do is take this experience and use it to keep pursuing our dreams, keep moving forward. We can only try."
We are the lucky ones. We are still breathing, still living. Every day is a blessing. Be happy (although I'm almost crying). Live life to the fullest. Do what your heart says. Because for some, life is too short, and for others, it is too painful. So enjoy the moments you have, and always be grateful that at the very least you have your breath.
R.I.P Seven.
R.I.P Wavy. I will always remember you.
We were really shocked, myself probably more so. We were in several classes together, we spoke often, and I have vivid memories of him. He wasn't like a friend friend, but you know when the whole class sort of knows everyone, and everyone interacts? Well he was that person to me and my friends. At one point he was something more to one of my friends, but we'll get to that later.
He meant well, but for some reason as he got older, he deliberately pursued getting involved with the bad crowd. He deliberately made trouble in and out of class so as to gain attention, and be recognised as a bad boy. We could really see through it. Maybe that was due to the fact that he was a year younger than us, and we weren't as easily impressed by those tactics than if they had been performed by someone older than us who we feared/looked up to. That goes hand in hand in high school.
So when I heard the news about (we'll call him Seven) him yesterday, I couldn't help but think about him and be shocked by the whole events. I hadn't really heard of him since those high school days, and every so often if someone from that year was mentioned, my mind couldn't help but wander and think of where he had ended up.
So Red was my friend who he was more than just a school friend to at one stage. He was the first guy she kissed, however it didn't go any further than that, and all of us, with he and his friends, remained good friends throughout those early years of high school.
I called Red yesterday to see if she had heard. I already suspected she may have, just with the fact that everyone knows everyone: and she had. She was shocked too by it all. And then she told me something else.
"Miss S, did you hear about - (we'll call him Wavy)?"
"Which wavy?" (there are a lot of people with this common name Wavy.)
"Wavy, the one you kissed?"
"What?"
"He had c------."
I couldn't hear her. "What?"
"He had cancer. He died months ago."
I was floored. This was a guy I hadn't seen since my high school days either. I'd often wondered where he had ended up, as usually I saw some people from high school around and about, shopping, clubs, whatever. But he and his friends, (and he was sort of in the same group as Seven) I never heard anything of, and I always wondered if they were all in some bad crowd and that's why we never saw them.
Both Seven and Wavy were in similar groups. They were both a year younger than Red and I. They had died within months of each other. And they were both our first kiss'.
....
....
....
They say bad luck comes in threes, but for something like this, so horrible to happen, and then to start to see the likeness behind it all, the weird 'coincidences', is scary. I was more in shock yesterday, keen to get home and check facebook because Red told me she'd seen a memorial page for him there. She'd kept forgetting to tell me about it.
It was so hard to find it. I didnt know his last name, and I was trying all kinds of searches. And then the net kept playing up on me. Finally, after midnight last night (or should I say this morning) I found the R.I.P page dedicated to him. It was a combination of sickness, shock and dark acceptance that ran through me as I looked at the photo they had put up of him. Wavy's photo looked like him, just a but more manly, you know how guys bulk up a bit over time. Then I went to look at more photos of him that had been put up, and I almost turned away saying "no that's not him."
That horrible horrible disease. He didn't look like him. I feel so upset just thinking of it now. It's so unfair. I actually convinced myself for a moment that I had the wrong Wavy, until I looked closer at the photos. His face looked different, and his hair was closely shaved due to the treatment I'm guesing. He was such a good looking guy. He was really sweet, and really nice.
He never treated me bad. There was in fact nothing he ever did wrong. It was all me, and never was the statement "it's not you, it's me" more truer than in this case. Honestly, I liked him, and I had him for a short while until I realised I wanted something different. I was honest with him when I broke it off, and although he took it well, I have so much guilt now, wondering if I hurt his feelings or made him feel horrible.
It's amazing you know. You don't think someone has affected you, until they're gone. It's weird because I've thought of him at odd times during the years, and at one point said to myself "it's like he's fallen off the face of the earth." I actually thought that. And a couple of months ago, I thought I saw him on a train. But thinking of those photos I saw, that wasn't him on the train. Definitely not.
It may sound overly self-indulgent, and I don't mean it to sound that way, but I just hope that none of my actions affected him and made his life different. I may not have had that kind of impact on his life, just from one moment in time: and hey, I really hope I didn't. I just pray and hope that he had lots of love and happiness surrounding him at all times. And that he wasn't alone. Even though ultimately, we all die alone.
It's breaking me up inside.
I've already kind of said my goodbye, but it still feels weird, unfinished. I wish I'd known. I don't know what I could have done, what I would have done, but I almost feel like asking Red if she wants to visit their gravesites, even though I have no idea where they are. She's as blown away by all this as I am, and she is also freaking out about the symmetry of it all.
I've had a cousin murdered, another cousin commit suicide, an aunty die suddenly of cancer; and as devastating as all those things were, I'm really shook by this. They were both so young, younger than myself. For Wavy, especially, I know it's cliche to say but he didn't deserve it. He was really a greay guy. As someone on his memory page said, he hadn't even had a chance to be a husband, a father. That is so unfair.
Because he played such a monumental role in my life, as short as the time was, that's why I think I'm so blown away by it all. He died such a short time ago, and his family and friends are still writing things on his page and posting photos. It was devastating to read, but I guess good knowing he was so loved, is so loved.
I hadn't seen him for such a long time. Never would I imagine this would happen, and that he would mark such strong emotions in me after his death. I'm still in shock. I don't know what to think. I pray and hope he is safe, well and in peace where he is right now.
When it comes to death, I have no answers. I try to live my life on a positive scale every day, and look at the good, and the secret messages in everything, even the bad. I struggle when it comes to death though. As I wrote to Red "The only thing we can do is take this experience and use it to keep pursuing our dreams, keep moving forward. We can only try."
We are the lucky ones. We are still breathing, still living. Every day is a blessing. Be happy (although I'm almost crying). Live life to the fullest. Do what your heart says. Because for some, life is too short, and for others, it is too painful. So enjoy the moments you have, and always be grateful that at the very least you have your breath.
R.I.P Seven.
R.I.P Wavy. I will always remember you.
Monday, January 23, 2012
13
Often the number 13 evokes a sense of intense fear and danger by those who come across it in their everyday lives. The number brings forth images of black cats, women pinned to stakes, ladders, breaking mirrors and just a general feel of ominous doom. Whether you come across it in calculating finances, planning a party, or choosing a house or car, if something is suggestive towards this lowly-regarded number being the sum of whatever it is you're doing, chances are that at first sight of it you'll be running for the hills, far far away, along with the rest of herd.
I, usually, am part of this herd.
If we're looking at houses, I won't want one that has 13 in the address. With cars, I add up the numbers on the reg: if the total comes to 13, again, I consider it a bad sign. (Don't get me started on cars with three of the same number, the number that comes after 5 but before 7 - shudder).
I don't know why I tend to diverge from this number. I think over time I've just gone along with the flow and joined in with the rest of the hype about the number: I've actually heard that Italians consider it a lucky number. Growing up, Red had a bit of a fear about it, and she kept seeing signs of it everywhere: dates, the time, even the number of letters in her first and last name added up to 13. (Teenage girls have a lot of time on their hands).
Another friend I grew up with, got her first period on Friday the 13th. Faaaarrrrrrr. She was secretly rapt, I know, being a bit of a late bloomer and all, but I was just like "What? Friday the 13th? Of all days?!"
I've ended up having my birthday on the 13th a couple of times, just the way the dates worked out that year, and I can't say anything really horrible happened. But if given the option, I would always go for the other option, rather than outright choose something with 13 associated with it.
(I think the stories of my parents upbringing got me really superstitious and stuff too.)
However, I'm starting to see things differently. Today is a 13 number for me, and a great number at that.
Including today, I only have 13 more working days until I go on leave next month.
:-D! :-D! :-D!
YIPPEE for me! I am so excited. When I start preparing my to-do list of holiday stuff, I think I might spontaneously explode with the amount of items I will be potentially ticking off.
And because Hubbie isn't able to take holidays with me, as he has only recently started a new job, I will be on my own, getting lots of little bullshit jobs done. I'll be organising photos, cleaning windows, sorting through recipes and indexing them, throwing out old bills, EVERYTHING!
You think I'm crazy now don't you? You think I'm going to devote my time off to just cleaning the house? No siree!
I'm gonna be catching up with my parents, my sister, my cousins, my extended family, my friends, the works! On Hubbie's days off, we're going to go out and not come home until it's dark! I'm going to be watching my fave tv shows and movies 'til REALLY late at night, because I won't have work the next day! I'll be shopping, trying on dresses with Red for her wedding, going to parks, to the beach, eating out and most important drinking coffee and eating cake and ice cream!
!!!!!
I am going to do it all, whenever, however and wherever I like! :-D
Oh, and I almost forget. I'll be finishing off my book then too, you know that story I keep mentioning. Yeah......
:-D
Which brings me to another 13. I finished chapter 12 last night.
:-D :-D :-D
I, usually, am part of this herd.
If we're looking at houses, I won't want one that has 13 in the address. With cars, I add up the numbers on the reg: if the total comes to 13, again, I consider it a bad sign. (Don't get me started on cars with three of the same number, the number that comes after 5 but before 7 - shudder).
I don't know why I tend to diverge from this number. I think over time I've just gone along with the flow and joined in with the rest of the hype about the number: I've actually heard that Italians consider it a lucky number. Growing up, Red had a bit of a fear about it, and she kept seeing signs of it everywhere: dates, the time, even the number of letters in her first and last name added up to 13. (Teenage girls have a lot of time on their hands).
Another friend I grew up with, got her first period on Friday the 13th. Faaaarrrrrrr. She was secretly rapt, I know, being a bit of a late bloomer and all, but I was just like "What? Friday the 13th? Of all days?!"
I've ended up having my birthday on the 13th a couple of times, just the way the dates worked out that year, and I can't say anything really horrible happened. But if given the option, I would always go for the other option, rather than outright choose something with 13 associated with it.
(I think the stories of my parents upbringing got me really superstitious and stuff too.)
However, I'm starting to see things differently. Today is a 13 number for me, and a great number at that.
Including today, I only have 13 more working days until I go on leave next month.
:-D! :-D! :-D!
YIPPEE for me! I am so excited. When I start preparing my to-do list of holiday stuff, I think I might spontaneously explode with the amount of items I will be potentially ticking off.
And because Hubbie isn't able to take holidays with me, as he has only recently started a new job, I will be on my own, getting lots of little bullshit jobs done. I'll be organising photos, cleaning windows, sorting through recipes and indexing them, throwing out old bills, EVERYTHING!
You think I'm crazy now don't you? You think I'm going to devote my time off to just cleaning the house? No siree!
I'm gonna be catching up with my parents, my sister, my cousins, my extended family, my friends, the works! On Hubbie's days off, we're going to go out and not come home until it's dark! I'm going to be watching my fave tv shows and movies 'til REALLY late at night, because I won't have work the next day! I'll be shopping, trying on dresses with Red for her wedding, going to parks, to the beach, eating out and most important drinking coffee and eating cake and ice cream!
!!!!!
I am going to do it all, whenever, however and wherever I like! :-D
Oh, and I almost forget. I'll be finishing off my book then too, you know that story I keep mentioning. Yeah......
:-D
Which brings me to another 13. I finished chapter 12 last night.
:-D :-D :-D
Thursday, December 29, 2011
2011: The Year In Review
This past year has been interesting. It has been unexpected at times, trying at others, and above all else a great learning experience. In retrospect, with all the new things that came into my life, whether I initially embraced them or tried to shut them out, I now believe it was all for the best.
Yesterday when I was trying to remember what my resolutions for this year had been, there was only one major one that stood out to me: And which I proudly with the widest smile can say I have given my all. That I will get to later:) However I find it hilarious that I had to think of my resolutions and could only remember one of them, having kind of forgotten the rest. Or had I? As I look through the list to see what I had achieved, although some were far from mind, the opportunites to take these things on board were definitely there, lingering.....
To read, HEAPS more.
Yes, yes and yes. Hold on there was only one point. I guess my point is to emphasise that I did take this on board whole-heartedly. I finished reading several self-help and law of attraction books, have started on "The Celestine Prophecy," started and finished "Persuasion," half-way through that got half-addicted to Jane Austen, am now almost finished reading "Pride and Prejudice" and am definitely addicted to Jane Austen. It may not seem like much (and I do feel I am missing a book somewhere) but compared to the NO BOOKS I was previously reading (or not reading if that makes sense, though I don't think it does) it is a lot, as all I used to previously read was mags and catalogues, which is really quite pathetic if you have to count that as literature. So I, am no longer, pathetic!
Ha ha.
Oh, and although I didn't work out the blogger, listing books, ticking them off thing, I've still succeeded with my main point, so there :P
To complete my first book by the end of the year.
Well, although I am not finished with this huge task, I am so proud to say that I am up to writing chapter 12 of my planned 14 chapter book. Last night I was writing and had to go back and check some stuff I'd written (I've written so much I forget what I've created!) and once again, as has happened on several other occassions, I was really pleased on reading back certain passages. I will need to revise and re-word quite a bit once I've finished my first draft, but considering I've had no formal training (other than my informal blogging of course :) ) I think I've done quite well.
AND, considering that I didn't actually start writing my book 'til the very end of Feb, I figure my resolution should be modified to extend to the end of Feb' 12: which is in fact when I plan to have the draft of my first book completed by. All is on track.
:):):)
To get fit.
Fail. Ok, well at first I went "fail, massive fail." But then I realised something. Yes I may have started the year off playing basketball with Hubbie a lot, running up and down basketball courts and what-not, with the attempts slowly dwindling to doing NOTHING of the sort. I could use genuine excuses to explain myself. Hubbie's busier schedule and starting a new job; me getting sick at one stage which removed me from all outdoor activities all together with no planned return to them - yes I could use these as an excuse, but I won't (even though I just did). If I had really wanted to do exercise, I would have found a way, no buts about it.
But then I remembered. Due to Hubbie's new job in the last couple of months this year, and the fact that he needs my car to get to and from work, I've been using the train pretty much every single day.
In the morning I walk 10 mins to work from the station. When I finish I walk 10 mins to the station. Then when I get to the station at home, I walk home for 25-30 mins, depending on what shoes I'm wearing.
That's every day of the week I work. Now that's a good effort.
So, I have half-committed to that resolution too, though unintentionally:) I could be lazy and wait 15 mins for the bus to take me home, but I start walking. Procrastination eat your heart out.
To improve all my relationships, full-stop.
This is a tricky one. Grey in some areas, as most relationships are. People who I've in the past been distant with, or who I've been angry with, I've now grown closer to, or have a new-found respect for. Others, who I have struggled with in the past, I still continue to struggle with even now.
Over Christmas I tried to put my extreme dislike of one person behind me, just for the day. It worked, and I managed to see them in a somewhat positive light. But then like today, when I remember the shit petty-ness, insecure mind games and arrogance I've received from them in the past, my anger fuels up again and I feel really mad. It's not black and white. Nothing in life ever really is. But the fact that I'm trying to learn, trying to move on, and trying to accept the fact that in order to solve your relationship problems you need to change yourself, tells me that I've made some progress.
Grrr. Changing myself at the ignorance of others just shits me. I'm not the problem. But often in life you've got to swallow your pride (and let Karma take care of the rest....)
To continue on my path of spiritual growth and self-development.
Yes. Simply put, yes. Through all my reading and thinking and my daily work calendar full of quotes like "First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do." - Epictetus.
To enjoy life.
This one I completely forgot I wrote down, yet this is the one that must have stayed subconciously in my mind, because this one I, we, have definitely achieved.
We have stepped it up a gear. One of our motto's is "work hard, play hard." We don't always get a chance to do what we want, what with work, family commitments, and other occasions that take up our weekends. So when we do get spare time, we go all out. It may not be big to some, but to us we take extreme pleasure in it: buying coffee whenever we go shopping; eating big and well at very decent restaurants; spoiling ourselves on quality clothes; buying unique and different furniture to furnish our home. We spend a bit more, because that's the kind of life we want: one consisting of quality. Not in the future, but from NOW. Starting from right now.
And we have been doing it, for about 6 months now. Going out, splurging, exploring the town and just smiling. Life is now. You don't wait for tomorrow to enjoy it. That's what we've been doing. Any spare moment we get we enjoy it to the fullest potential, so that when we return to work the next day we don't feel pity for ourselves in seeing someone sitting and relaxing in the sun, and enjoying a coffee at an exclusive cafe.
(Yesterday we had chocolate drizzled cappuccinos and shared a huge waffle for two, drizzled also with chocolate, with side accompaniments of ice cream, strawberries and banana - and today I'm ok with being back at work :) )
Ok, enough reflecting, now for my 2012 Resolutions!
1. To finish the first draft of my first book by late Feb, and by the end of the year have it published with a reputable publisher, with the intention of writing more books in the series for that publisher. This is my first and foremost resolution, it is direct because I know exactly what I want. I'm more than half way there. It WILL happen!
2. To continue to read more, especially in ways that will help along with my writing, and also to read books that will continue to help me better myself spiritually. This is a two-fold resolution. So we'll go to 4.
4. To do some form of exercise ( I have to sigh at this resolution ) however in particular I want to zone in on my arms and make them more toned. I have a goal in mind, as Red has some arm exercises she has to give me in paper form. As soon as she gives them to me, (hopefully soon!) I start! As for the other general exercise, hopefully I will do Zumba with my at-home DVDs, if I can't make myself apply to yoga classes. Yes, as far as resolutions go, my tone in this one sucks, but hey, I have to try, true?
5. To continue living life with Hubbie to the full in every way, shape and form.
6. To continue thinking, believing and LIVING the law of attraction, both for myself and in unison with Hubbie. Although he says I inspired him, some things he has achieved of late have inspired me so much that I want us to continue on this enlightened path, aware that all that we want and aim for in life, we will have.
These, my friends, are my wishes and hopes for myself, and I wish you, all the same happiness, love, health and success that you so rightly deserve.
"Look, I don't have all the answers. To be honest, in life, I failed as often as I succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you, my kind of success."
- (Best ever end-of-movie quote! 'Jerry Maguire.')
Yesterday when I was trying to remember what my resolutions for this year had been, there was only one major one that stood out to me: And which I proudly with the widest smile can say I have given my all. That I will get to later:) However I find it hilarious that I had to think of my resolutions and could only remember one of them, having kind of forgotten the rest. Or had I? As I look through the list to see what I had achieved, although some were far from mind, the opportunites to take these things on board were definitely there, lingering.....
To read, HEAPS more.
Yes, yes and yes. Hold on there was only one point. I guess my point is to emphasise that I did take this on board whole-heartedly. I finished reading several self-help and law of attraction books, have started on "The Celestine Prophecy," started and finished "Persuasion," half-way through that got half-addicted to Jane Austen, am now almost finished reading "Pride and Prejudice" and am definitely addicted to Jane Austen. It may not seem like much (and I do feel I am missing a book somewhere) but compared to the NO BOOKS I was previously reading (or not reading if that makes sense, though I don't think it does) it is a lot, as all I used to previously read was mags and catalogues, which is really quite pathetic if you have to count that as literature. So I, am no longer, pathetic!
Ha ha.
Oh, and although I didn't work out the blogger, listing books, ticking them off thing, I've still succeeded with my main point, so there :P
To complete my first book by the end of the year.
Well, although I am not finished with this huge task, I am so proud to say that I am up to writing chapter 12 of my planned 14 chapter book. Last night I was writing and had to go back and check some stuff I'd written (I've written so much I forget what I've created!) and once again, as has happened on several other occassions, I was really pleased on reading back certain passages. I will need to revise and re-word quite a bit once I've finished my first draft, but considering I've had no formal training (other than my informal blogging of course :) ) I think I've done quite well.
AND, considering that I didn't actually start writing my book 'til the very end of Feb, I figure my resolution should be modified to extend to the end of Feb' 12: which is in fact when I plan to have the draft of my first book completed by. All is on track.
:):):)
To get fit.
Fail. Ok, well at first I went "fail, massive fail." But then I realised something. Yes I may have started the year off playing basketball with Hubbie a lot, running up and down basketball courts and what-not, with the attempts slowly dwindling to doing NOTHING of the sort. I could use genuine excuses to explain myself. Hubbie's busier schedule and starting a new job; me getting sick at one stage which removed me from all outdoor activities all together with no planned return to them - yes I could use these as an excuse, but I won't (even though I just did). If I had really wanted to do exercise, I would have found a way, no buts about it.
But then I remembered. Due to Hubbie's new job in the last couple of months this year, and the fact that he needs my car to get to and from work, I've been using the train pretty much every single day.
In the morning I walk 10 mins to work from the station. When I finish I walk 10 mins to the station. Then when I get to the station at home, I walk home for 25-30 mins, depending on what shoes I'm wearing.
That's every day of the week I work. Now that's a good effort.
So, I have half-committed to that resolution too, though unintentionally:) I could be lazy and wait 15 mins for the bus to take me home, but I start walking. Procrastination eat your heart out.
To improve all my relationships, full-stop.
This is a tricky one. Grey in some areas, as most relationships are. People who I've in the past been distant with, or who I've been angry with, I've now grown closer to, or have a new-found respect for. Others, who I have struggled with in the past, I still continue to struggle with even now.
Over Christmas I tried to put my extreme dislike of one person behind me, just for the day. It worked, and I managed to see them in a somewhat positive light. But then like today, when I remember the shit petty-ness, insecure mind games and arrogance I've received from them in the past, my anger fuels up again and I feel really mad. It's not black and white. Nothing in life ever really is. But the fact that I'm trying to learn, trying to move on, and trying to accept the fact that in order to solve your relationship problems you need to change yourself, tells me that I've made some progress.
Grrr. Changing myself at the ignorance of others just shits me. I'm not the problem. But often in life you've got to swallow your pride (and let Karma take care of the rest....)
To continue on my path of spiritual growth and self-development.
Yes. Simply put, yes. Through all my reading and thinking and my daily work calendar full of quotes like "First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do." - Epictetus.
To enjoy life.
This one I completely forgot I wrote down, yet this is the one that must have stayed subconciously in my mind, because this one I, we, have definitely achieved.
We have stepped it up a gear. One of our motto's is "work hard, play hard." We don't always get a chance to do what we want, what with work, family commitments, and other occasions that take up our weekends. So when we do get spare time, we go all out. It may not be big to some, but to us we take extreme pleasure in it: buying coffee whenever we go shopping; eating big and well at very decent restaurants; spoiling ourselves on quality clothes; buying unique and different furniture to furnish our home. We spend a bit more, because that's the kind of life we want: one consisting of quality. Not in the future, but from NOW. Starting from right now.
And we have been doing it, for about 6 months now. Going out, splurging, exploring the town and just smiling. Life is now. You don't wait for tomorrow to enjoy it. That's what we've been doing. Any spare moment we get we enjoy it to the fullest potential, so that when we return to work the next day we don't feel pity for ourselves in seeing someone sitting and relaxing in the sun, and enjoying a coffee at an exclusive cafe.
(Yesterday we had chocolate drizzled cappuccinos and shared a huge waffle for two, drizzled also with chocolate, with side accompaniments of ice cream, strawberries and banana - and today I'm ok with being back at work :) )
Ok, enough reflecting, now for my 2012 Resolutions!
1. To finish the first draft of my first book by late Feb, and by the end of the year have it published with a reputable publisher, with the intention of writing more books in the series for that publisher. This is my first and foremost resolution, it is direct because I know exactly what I want. I'm more than half way there. It WILL happen!
2. To continue to read more, especially in ways that will help along with my writing, and also to read books that will continue to help me better myself spiritually. This is a two-fold resolution. So we'll go to 4.
4. To do some form of exercise ( I have to sigh at this resolution ) however in particular I want to zone in on my arms and make them more toned. I have a goal in mind, as Red has some arm exercises she has to give me in paper form. As soon as she gives them to me, (hopefully soon!) I start! As for the other general exercise, hopefully I will do Zumba with my at-home DVDs, if I can't make myself apply to yoga classes. Yes, as far as resolutions go, my tone in this one sucks, but hey, I have to try, true?
5. To continue living life with Hubbie to the full in every way, shape and form.
6. To continue thinking, believing and LIVING the law of attraction, both for myself and in unison with Hubbie. Although he says I inspired him, some things he has achieved of late have inspired me so much that I want us to continue on this enlightened path, aware that all that we want and aim for in life, we will have.
These, my friends, are my wishes and hopes for myself, and I wish you, all the same happiness, love, health and success that you so rightly deserve.
"Look, I don't have all the answers. To be honest, in life, I failed as often as I succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you, my kind of success."
- (Best ever end-of-movie quote! 'Jerry Maguire.')
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Engagements and Weddings are coming out of my ar - .... ahem, behind - PART 2
Yes, there are more. As if there were not enough already, and with both of my friends' engagements behind us now, I can confirm more details of engagement/wedding joy impending on us.
THE DEFINITES
- The wedding that was confirmed for this month has now been postponed 'til Jan next year. That I don't mind, because October is always so busy for us, and January is super boring. So it evens things up a bit.
- This upcoming weekend we have an engagement - family friend on my side who announced her engagement not long ago.
- My friend is having her wedding in May, as previously confirmed.
- On the same weekend as above friend, Hubbie's 2nd cousin is also having his wedding. On the SAME weekend. Geez people. Hoping he picks the Sunday, as above friend is already confirmed for the Saturday.
- Red is having hers November next year.
- The week after Red's is Hubbie's best mate's wife's bro who is getting married to a relative of Hubbie's.
THE MAYBES
- 2 cousins of mine, both who haven't made dates as yet
- The above mentioned family friend will most likely have her wedding next year
- Just a couple days ago we heard that (deep breath) Hubbie's best mate's wife's brother's FIANCE (also known as Hubbie's relative) her brother has just announced his engagement. Phew! So that wedding may happen next year too. And an engagement may precede that also, all depending....
- Another cousin of Hubbie's who lives overseas, has met a man who lives in Australia, and they will most likely be moving here. They have filled in the relevant paperwork, and again, a wedding should definitely follow.
See how, when it rains it freaking pours cats and dogs????
AFTERWORD
I wrote this a couple of days ago before I posted it today. As Murphy's Law would have it, one of my above cousins who I said is most likely to get married next year, Legs, well she emailed me to say they have broken up. Without going into the specifics, she isn't going to wait for somebody who suddenly doesn't know what they want, as heartbreaking as it is. I feel so badly for her. It was kind of obvious things weren't right, and for a while now both families have been at it, but to come to this was something I never expected of them.
And he seemed the best match for her. Obviously not.
And then I hear my other cousin is already into the (completely outdated and domineering) habit of putting down his fiance in front of other family members. Like really? He's turning into his Dad who he despises so much. Let's see how long this one will take.
Sounds like my side of the family won't be contributing to any matrimonial bliss for a while yet......
THE DEFINITES
- The wedding that was confirmed for this month has now been postponed 'til Jan next year. That I don't mind, because October is always so busy for us, and January is super boring. So it evens things up a bit.
- This upcoming weekend we have an engagement - family friend on my side who announced her engagement not long ago.
- My friend is having her wedding in May, as previously confirmed.
- On the same weekend as above friend, Hubbie's 2nd cousin is also having his wedding. On the SAME weekend. Geez people. Hoping he picks the Sunday, as above friend is already confirmed for the Saturday.
- Red is having hers November next year.
- The week after Red's is Hubbie's best mate's wife's bro who is getting married to a relative of Hubbie's.
THE MAYBES
- 2 cousins of mine, both who haven't made dates as yet
- The above mentioned family friend will most likely have her wedding next year
- Just a couple days ago we heard that (deep breath) Hubbie's best mate's wife's brother's FIANCE (also known as Hubbie's relative) her brother has just announced his engagement. Phew! So that wedding may happen next year too. And an engagement may precede that also, all depending....
- Another cousin of Hubbie's who lives overseas, has met a man who lives in Australia, and they will most likely be moving here. They have filled in the relevant paperwork, and again, a wedding should definitely follow.
See how, when it rains it freaking pours cats and dogs????
AFTERWORD
I wrote this a couple of days ago before I posted it today. As Murphy's Law would have it, one of my above cousins who I said is most likely to get married next year, Legs, well she emailed me to say they have broken up. Without going into the specifics, she isn't going to wait for somebody who suddenly doesn't know what they want, as heartbreaking as it is. I feel so badly for her. It was kind of obvious things weren't right, and for a while now both families have been at it, but to come to this was something I never expected of them.
And he seemed the best match for her. Obviously not.
And then I hear my other cousin is already into the (completely outdated and domineering) habit of putting down his fiance in front of other family members. Like really? He's turning into his Dad who he despises so much. Let's see how long this one will take.
Sounds like my side of the family won't be contributing to any matrimonial bliss for a while yet......
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Happiness Is.... #5
Happiness Is....
Shopping with your best buddies. Walking around a shopping centre aimlessly, not necessarily buying anything but nontheless window-dreaming and thinking big. Talking about a random multitude of subjects because hey, that's what old friends do. They are never at a loss for words.
The conversation is about people, places, things; everything. Somehow it turns to books. And I say to Blonde teasingly, in reference to her inability to complete reading an entire book (she much rather prefers shopping) "When I finish my book, Red can read it and then tell you all about it."
I say this quite seriously even though I'm teasing. I'm under no false pretences about her choice of activites. I'm giving her a 'get out of jail free' card.
Immediately she turns to me: it's an instantaneous reaction. "No, I'M going to read it!" I laugh.
A few minutes pass before I realise how valuable her reaction to my statement was. I tell her and we laugh again.
I love it. I love my friends. Red and Blonde are the best. Their support to me in my creative endeavours is incredible. I love them for wanting to read my book because they want to. And I love them for wanting to read my book even more, even though it may not be the first preference of sparetime activity they would normally choose.
Cherish your true friends :)
Shopping with your best buddies. Walking around a shopping centre aimlessly, not necessarily buying anything but nontheless window-dreaming and thinking big. Talking about a random multitude of subjects because hey, that's what old friends do. They are never at a loss for words.
The conversation is about people, places, things; everything. Somehow it turns to books. And I say to Blonde teasingly, in reference to her inability to complete reading an entire book (she much rather prefers shopping) "When I finish my book, Red can read it and then tell you all about it."
I say this quite seriously even though I'm teasing. I'm under no false pretences about her choice of activites. I'm giving her a 'get out of jail free' card.
Immediately she turns to me: it's an instantaneous reaction. "No, I'M going to read it!" I laugh.
A few minutes pass before I realise how valuable her reaction to my statement was. I tell her and we laugh again.
I love it. I love my friends. Red and Blonde are the best. Their support to me in my creative endeavours is incredible. I love them for wanting to read my book because they want to. And I love them for wanting to read my book even more, even though it may not be the first preference of sparetime activity they would normally choose.
Cherish your true friends :)
Monday, August 29, 2011
Movie Moments
The above is what I'm trying my best to focus on in my return back to work today after 2 weeks.
Like I've previously blogged, many many posts ago, it felt not only weird to be back at work today but also depressing. I know the first day back is always difficult, and it takes a while to get back into the everyday routine.
But I've had such a good time while on leave with Hubbie. Not just good, but great, brilliant, fantastic, fun, every wonderful and heart-warming, good times-explosive word you can imagine.
And it's not even like we went away very far, or for very long. Yes, we went away for a few nights for my birthday, with the rest of the time spent furniture/home furnishing shopping, whilst drinking coffees, going out to brunches and dinners, and going out heaps with our family and friends, with a good dose of drinking and partying to make things that extra bit awesome.
Having the time off with Hubbie was absolute bliss. We haven't had this much time off together since our honeymoon. And it was tooooooo good. Which is why I felt so depressed this morning.
Things did seem a bit weird, a bit off around the office this morning, however I can't quite put my finger on what the changes are, because everything looks the same. Except for the printer, that is different.
Again, in light of these strong feelings, my resolve to write and be my own boss is stronger than ever. Although I had a bit of writers block last week (is it writer's block when you can't find ideas, or you can't find the right words? Maybe both) I know I need to finish this story (I've finished chapter 9) and after finishing it, keep ON writing to develop more books, as not writing would be like killing these characters off in my head. And they definitely have a story that needs to be heard.
Also, coming back to work to learn that once again
hey you! yes you! you are going to be in charge again while your boss is away! YAY!
is not exactly love inducing. I wanted to come back to work and have it be all cruisy because I'm still in freaking holiday mode. I have my brother-in-law's birthday tonight, my bestie Blonde is visiting again from the U.S, and I want to ease into this thing. But no. Work has other plans doesn't it. And not only that, but people have to snap at me too, don't they, just for fucking asking questions and doing my job as opposed to slacking off and counting down the seconds like the complete idiotic incompetent wankers that they are (ahem, cough* no-show boy).
So, here I sit, breathing deeply, and thinking of my book. Of my success. How all this bullshit is going to make it so much more worth it one day.
I think back to brunch with my friends yesterday. Talking to Red about her engagement plans on the busy street sidewalk, while Blonde and our other friends wave at us through the shop window, pointing at bags and accessories. I think of Blonde walking up to us and enveloping us in a big group hug.
I think of Hubbie. My everything. I think of us walking around in random circles in over-commercialised shopping centres, drinking expensive coffee and getting excited about practically everything, all the while trying to focus on buying things for the home while getting constantly sidetracked from our over-hyped, caffeine-induced states. And then buying really expensive things at the drop of a hat just because we can :)
Those are the movie moments.
I think of lying across Hubbie and staring up at him, and this I struggle to think of in fear of tears trickling down my face, because I miss that so much. Yes I have that still, but I want it every day, not just end of day when we're all over the routine and work of life, tired and crap.
So that's why I've got to focus and push past the writer's block. Because I want it all. I can have it all, I know I can.
"Me, I want what's coming to me. The world Chico, and everything in it." - Tony Montana, Scarface.
Like I've previously blogged, many many posts ago, it felt not only weird to be back at work today but also depressing. I know the first day back is always difficult, and it takes a while to get back into the everyday routine.
But I've had such a good time while on leave with Hubbie. Not just good, but great, brilliant, fantastic, fun, every wonderful and heart-warming, good times-explosive word you can imagine.
And it's not even like we went away very far, or for very long. Yes, we went away for a few nights for my birthday, with the rest of the time spent furniture/home furnishing shopping, whilst drinking coffees, going out to brunches and dinners, and going out heaps with our family and friends, with a good dose of drinking and partying to make things that extra bit awesome.
Having the time off with Hubbie was absolute bliss. We haven't had this much time off together since our honeymoon. And it was tooooooo good. Which is why I felt so depressed this morning.
Things did seem a bit weird, a bit off around the office this morning, however I can't quite put my finger on what the changes are, because everything looks the same. Except for the printer, that is different.
Again, in light of these strong feelings, my resolve to write and be my own boss is stronger than ever. Although I had a bit of writers block last week (is it writer's block when you can't find ideas, or you can't find the right words? Maybe both) I know I need to finish this story (I've finished chapter 9) and after finishing it, keep ON writing to develop more books, as not writing would be like killing these characters off in my head. And they definitely have a story that needs to be heard.
Also, coming back to work to learn that once again
hey you! yes you! you are going to be in charge again while your boss is away! YAY!
is not exactly love inducing. I wanted to come back to work and have it be all cruisy because I'm still in freaking holiday mode. I have my brother-in-law's birthday tonight, my bestie Blonde is visiting again from the U.S, and I want to ease into this thing. But no. Work has other plans doesn't it. And not only that, but people have to snap at me too, don't they, just for fucking asking questions and doing my job as opposed to slacking off and counting down the seconds like the complete idiotic incompetent wankers that they are (ahem, cough* no-show boy).
So, here I sit, breathing deeply, and thinking of my book. Of my success. How all this bullshit is going to make it so much more worth it one day.
I think back to brunch with my friends yesterday. Talking to Red about her engagement plans on the busy street sidewalk, while Blonde and our other friends wave at us through the shop window, pointing at bags and accessories. I think of Blonde walking up to us and enveloping us in a big group hug.
I think of Hubbie. My everything. I think of us walking around in random circles in over-commercialised shopping centres, drinking expensive coffee and getting excited about practically everything, all the while trying to focus on buying things for the home while getting constantly sidetracked from our over-hyped, caffeine-induced states. And then buying really expensive things at the drop of a hat just because we can :)
Those are the movie moments.
I think of lying across Hubbie and staring up at him, and this I struggle to think of in fear of tears trickling down my face, because I miss that so much. Yes I have that still, but I want it every day, not just end of day when we're all over the routine and work of life, tired and crap.
So that's why I've got to focus and push past the writer's block. Because I want it all. I can have it all, I know I can.
"Me, I want what's coming to me. The world Chico, and everything in it." - Tony Montana, Scarface.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Engagements and Weddings are coming out of my ar - .... ahem, behind
I couldn't sleep last night, lying in bed for a whole 2 hours after turning off the lights. It may have been the two coffees I had yesterday, or the fact that I slept in because we had a massive Saturday night.
Or it could have been because I was counting all the upcoming engagements and weddings we have coming up.
It's all very exciting, I must admit. In the past when we've had weddings/engagements galore, it's generally been more of Hubbie's extended family, and so although we've enjoy ourselves like we always do at parties and stuff, it is nothing compared to when you are supertight with the people there.
A month ago a close friend called to tell me she's engaged, and only a week ago Red called on her return from a holiday with Mr Wine to tell me he'd proposed. I was screaming into the phone and trying to hold back tears of happiness. SOooooooooooooooo happy :-D :-D :-D
Last night Hubbie and I were on the couch, when his best mate started messaging him. Turns out his wife's bro is getting married, and the girl is also extended family from Hubbie's side. We know the couple from both ends! That is also super-duper exciting, as we get along really well with Hubbie's best mate and wife, and we can't wait to party it up with them at the wedding.
So last night instead of counting sheep, I was counting all the weddings and engagements we have coming up. Here it is:
Red's engagement in September
My other friend's engagement in October
Definite wedding in late October - friend from school.
Those are the definites. The maybe's:
Hubbie's best mates wifes bro - maybe engagement this year
Another family member on Hubbie's side - maybe wedding later this year
Then I have 2 cousins, both who are getting married, but I don't know when = 2* possible weddings later this year.
THEN:
Next May is definitely my other friend's wedding.
Red is thinking early 2013 for her wedding.
And of course any maybe's that didn't follow through this year, including Hubbie's best mates wife's bro who will most likely get married in the following year.
Phew! So many maybe's it's doing my head in,. What I do know is there are going to be a lot of engagements and weddings in the next couple of years. Who am I kidding, when the engagements and weddings stop, the christenings and 1st birthdays begin........
:-D
Or it could have been because I was counting all the upcoming engagements and weddings we have coming up.
It's all very exciting, I must admit. In the past when we've had weddings/engagements galore, it's generally been more of Hubbie's extended family, and so although we've enjoy ourselves like we always do at parties and stuff, it is nothing compared to when you are supertight with the people there.
A month ago a close friend called to tell me she's engaged, and only a week ago Red called on her return from a holiday with Mr Wine to tell me he'd proposed. I was screaming into the phone and trying to hold back tears of happiness. SOooooooooooooooo happy :-D :-D :-D
Last night Hubbie and I were on the couch, when his best mate started messaging him. Turns out his wife's bro is getting married, and the girl is also extended family from Hubbie's side. We know the couple from both ends! That is also super-duper exciting, as we get along really well with Hubbie's best mate and wife, and we can't wait to party it up with them at the wedding.
So last night instead of counting sheep, I was counting all the weddings and engagements we have coming up. Here it is:
Red's engagement in September
My other friend's engagement in October
Definite wedding in late October - friend from school.
Those are the definites. The maybe's:
Hubbie's best mates wifes bro - maybe engagement this year
Another family member on Hubbie's side - maybe wedding later this year
Then I have 2 cousins, both who are getting married, but I don't know when = 2* possible weddings later this year.
THEN:
Next May is definitely my other friend's wedding.
Red is thinking early 2013 for her wedding.
And of course any maybe's that didn't follow through this year, including Hubbie's best mates wife's bro who will most likely get married in the following year.
Phew! So many maybe's it's doing my head in,. What I do know is there are going to be a lot of engagements and weddings in the next couple of years. Who am I kidding, when the engagements and weddings stop, the christenings and 1st birthdays begin........
:-D
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Easter days have come to play
I need to immediately counterbalance my last post with a happier one.
:):):)
I am on the verge of 5 days off. Actually no, I am on 5 days off, because I don't have to work tomorrow. Tomorrow I go my sisters house, then Friday and Saturday I spend making 4-5 lots of cakes for Easter. Sunday I wrap things and organise the cakes (yum) before heading off to an Easter family party!
Monday I go to my sisters again (we're planning my Dad's surprise 70th birthday) then that night we have another Easter dinner..... and Tuesday Red and Mr Wine come over for Easter dinner to our place.... yikes it's all happening.
Let me tell you about what Easter treats I'm making:
Cappuccino cup cakes (they're a specialty of mine!)
White chocolate friands
Chocolate sweet narrow balls (it sounds weird I know, there's 5 naughty ingredients in there, out of 5 ingredients!)
and
2 lots of choc-chip hot cross buns!
I made the hot cross buns last year as well, and was really happy with them. So I've decided to do two dozen - some to give out, some to eat.
Om, om, om.
And now I'm tired. So concludes my happy post.
:):):)
:):):)
I am on the verge of 5 days off. Actually no, I am on 5 days off, because I don't have to work tomorrow. Tomorrow I go my sisters house, then Friday and Saturday I spend making 4-5 lots of cakes for Easter. Sunday I wrap things and organise the cakes (yum) before heading off to an Easter family party!
Monday I go to my sisters again (we're planning my Dad's surprise 70th birthday) then that night we have another Easter dinner..... and Tuesday Red and Mr Wine come over for Easter dinner to our place.... yikes it's all happening.
Let me tell you about what Easter treats I'm making:
Cappuccino cup cakes (they're a specialty of mine!)
White chocolate friands
Chocolate sweet narrow balls (it sounds weird I know, there's 5 naughty ingredients in there, out of 5 ingredients!)
and
2 lots of choc-chip hot cross buns!
I made the hot cross buns last year as well, and was really happy with them. So I've decided to do two dozen - some to give out, some to eat.
Om, om, om.
And now I'm tired. So concludes my happy post.
:):):)
Monday, April 4, 2011
French Kiss the Morning
Prior to my affogato burst early last week, I was buzzing on something entirely different the previous Saturday night.
Cosmopolitans.
And because of that, I don't think I'll be having any Cosmo's for a LOOONNNNGGGG time.
Let me explain.
It was one of our closest friend's 30th birthday that weekend. Her and her husband, being big spenders, had a pretty extravagant evening planned. A group of 10 of us, were driven over to an exclusive waterfront restaurant, had a HUGE 3 course meal feast, PLENTY of drinks, and then were all driven to a city bar, where we continued to drink, and drink, and drink.... (and dance on podiums....!)
Boy did I pay for it the next day. Following a night, where I had one glass of wine, and about 7-8 Cosmopolitans, it took all the energy I had to keep awake on the drive home. Because I knew if I fell asleep, I might chunder, per Men At Work lyrics.
Getting home, I managed to brush my teeth and remove my make-up with one of those handy moisturised make-up removal wipes. As I crashed into bed, with Hubbie already in his 10th dream beside me, I closed my eyes.
And the world started spinning a dizzying black.
I opened them and closed them. I tried to still the blackness, but everything was whir, whir, whirring. And then I just knew what I had to do.
It wasn't so much that I felt it, more than I sensed it. Then again, maybe my purely intoxicated state disguised the nausea I was feeling. I ran to the toilet and vomited.
No. 1.
Nothing unusual here.... the contents I mean. I had clearly had way too many cocktails towards the end of the night, and my stomach was just emptying out the spare fluid. I went back to bed, and can't remember the rest.
The next morning I very slowly woke up. You know when you're waking up, and it takes you a good few minutes to realise you're awake, and not dreaming? Yeah that's called a hangover.
The hilarious thing about this moment of the day, was that I was in bed, 9:30am, thinking I should get up because the alcohol was still in my system and wouldn't let me fall asleep again. Lying there, I remember looking around the bed sheets and going "I need to wash these, I think I'll do that today." I could see bright light peeking through the blinds, and knew the sun would dry my washing quicker. I thought I'd be good, and despite the previous 'big night,' do some cleaning and washing, before Hubbie got home from work (yes poor thing on a Sunday) and we went out again, to a friend's sons 1st birthday.
Yeah right.
As soon as I was upright, I felt my stomach begin to move. And the nausea just kept getting worse. Previous times that I've over-drank and been sick, I've been sick the night of the craziness, rather than the night after. So I couldn't understand why I felt this way, seeing as I'd chucked the night before. I put it down to needing a coffee and some toast to fill my empty belly, and went about, in agony, preparing my breakfast.
I sat down on the couch to watch tv while I ate my brekkie. The only thing I ended up watching was my plate of toast and coffee mug. I couldn't touch it. I couldn't go near it. I was feeling so unwell by this stage, that I started to doubt whether I actually needed any food. But yet again, in my stubborness to see the situation, I decided to have a sip or two of coffee, followed by a bite of toast.
I was trying to talk myself into it. Internally I was like 'yes the coffee is helping, that's all I need.' Several minutes passed before I attempted another bite. As soon as I began to chew though, the wretchedness started moving from my stomach, into my throat.
I ran to the toilet, posing stationary above it. Realising I still had uneaten toast in my mouth, I ran to the kitchen and spat it into a tissue, disposing of it in the bin. Don't ask me why I did this, but I'm glad I did. I ran back to the toilet, and stood there, waiting. But nothing came immediately. Only my mobile started to ring.
Hubbie had already called me once that morning, before I started feeling so bad. So I was highly doubtful of it being him again. I walked over to my phone, and saw 'Dad.'
I paused a second. Should I answer? I decided I would, knowing that I could talk my way out of it, without anyone being none the wiser of my ailing condition. He couldn't see me.
Hahahahahahaha.
I answered, and he was like "Are you awake?"
Suspicion started creeping into me. "Yeah, I'm just having breakfast, why?"
"Oh well me and your mum are standing outside, and all the blinds are closed.... we're going to the plaza, and thought we'd stop by if it's alright, we haven't seen you in a while...."
That, I believe, is the definition of Murphy's Law.
"Oh, yeah, come in, no problems...."
Had I spat my uneaten toast in the toilet, I wouldn't have had time to run back and flush. It was like my sixth sense had been telling me to.... "be clean."
LOL.
I answered the door, still in pyjamas and nightgown, and they sat down. I knew my best bet was to not hide my tiredness, or my big night, because although I could hide my need to be sick, if they thought I was simply tired, they would think me leaning on the couch, all fetal position like, meant I just needed sleep.
Look, my parents are really cool. My Mum surprises me when she says "nooooo, it's not bad that you can see your bra through that see-through top!" and my dad impresses me with his stories of youth and the crazy things he did back then, like getting into jail and stuff :) (He's really, very good, which is why it's funny!) If I was sick, or showed myself to be sick in front of them, they'd just get unnecessarily worried, and that I didn't need. One person was enough for me to worry about, and at that moment I couldn't even look after that one person properly.
(Deep breath, I feel myself getting nauseous just thinking about it!)
So I acted my way through it. I made small chit chat. I willingly offered the previous nights story, and the plans for the rest of the day, then let them do the rest of the talking, only answering when absolutely necessary. The visit only lasted for 10-15 minutes. All the while I breathed, willing the contents of my stomach not to come flying out of me.
I did feel so bad. I didn't want my parents to think my silence meant my not-wanting them to be there. But I hoped they would just put it down to my 'tiredness.'
I stood at the door and waved to them as they drove off. And then I ran upstairs to the toilet. (I don't know why I went upstairs, I think I was more comfortable there, as it was there I'd thrown up the night before.)
And yes I threw up. Anything I'd managed to consume of my breakfast went. As well as I think some of the night before.
I sat back on the couch, my stomach feeling lighter, and less nauseous. I thought, 'good, now I'll wait 'til I'm 100%, then I'll get myself ready for later on.'
Wrong.
I sat there on the couch for over an hour. I managed to get up and walk around, throw my brekkie away, and sit back down on the couch. I was so crook. Then again, up the stairs I went.
I stood in front of the toilet, gagging for ages. And then I vomited. Again.
This time it WAS from last night. And I swear, I tasted something citrus-y that resembled the overly-abused Cosmo's. Ugh.
That was the last time I threw up. I couldn't believe how sick I'd been and how many times I'd thrown up, so long after the fact. The rest of the story goes: Hubbie came home, convinced me that I'd feel better if I started getting ready; through many tears of protest 'I still need to vomit!' I got ready; we drove to the 1st birthday party; I sat in the stationary car, there, holding my plastic bag, swearing I was gonna throw - I didn't; we survived the party, I put on the best show of my life; and I had my first bit of food at 4pm, that didn't reverse back on me - chocolate cake.
I hadn't eaten 'til 4pm. I'd had plenty of water and soda water, oh and bits of turkish bread from Hubbie's meal. I'd been terrified to consume something in case I became a regurgitating monster in front of everyone at the party, a la Exorcist style.
Had some Macca's chips at the end of the night, and some bites of Hubbie's burger, as we sat at home, still tired from the night before, I myself COMPLETELY drained of energy. Yeah, I know, so healthy right.
But the point of all this is the vomiting. My theory is, since I'd broken the vomit-from-overconsumption-of-alcohol seal, my stomach is now more sensitive, and more likely to throw up alcohol (never mind me overconsuming it!)
I'd taken pride my whole life in proclaiming that I'd never vomited from alcohol. I could always say that I'd drank heaps, but felt tough and strong, and alcoholically able in knowing my stomach could withstand any combination of potent fluids I put into it, MWA HA HA!
But then I broke the seal.
Seal Breaker 1:
My second Christmas party at this my current employer. I decided I hadn't been loose enough my first year, so went about in drinking more that year. Ended up in the toilets, throwing up, with a really sweet colleague calling out "Miss S, are you alright?" over the cubicles (she hung around because a male cleaner was in the toilet, I know, how nice of her right?) I blacked out the second half of the night and fell asleep at the club we were at. A window totally was smashed in near me and I missed it all, all because I got drunk and passed out. A friend took me home that night in his car, and for his kind troubles I invited him to my wedding :)
Then, I only threw up that night. I was queasy the next day, but I didn't projectile anything.
Seal Breaker 2:
Blonde's sisters Hen's night, of which I've mentioned in my post "WOW. What a weekend/s, what a week/s." It was the first girls night I'd been out to since I got married. I got WAAYYY too excited, so much so that I just couldn't waste the champagne that was left behind, (part of the complimentary drinks for our party) when the guest of honour and her friends left (yes, Red and I outstayed the hostess). So I drank it all. I said 'I love you' heaps to Red, or so she tells me. She says I was really amusing and funny, and still funny when she and her sister had to practically carry me back to their car. I stopped being funny when I warned of throwing up in her car on the way home.
Hubbie thought I was being funny when I said, "I'm sick, I'm gonna throw up," as I stumbled my way up to our bedroom late that night/early morning. But when he heard me heaving my lungs out in the toilet, he realised he wasn't gonna get any funny-ness that night.
Again. I only threw up that night, and was left nursing my poor stomach the next day.
This time however, my 3rd time, I've broken my seal altogether, as well as breaking a new seal, that of throwing up THE DAY AFTER. I'm getting more and more out of control. However in an effort to not throw up ever again from alcohol (as I sat in my PJs for half of last Sunday, I felt so crap, and made myself remember the feeling so as to not do it ever again) I've found the link between the 3 seal breaker scenarios, and realise the circumstance under which I must be careful of going overboard. It's simple really.
All 3 times I said to myself internally "I'm gonna make the most of tonight."
It's simple enough yes I know. And most times you would imagine anyone to want to have a great night out, it's practically a given. However, when I look at my watch, and start realising the night is ending, I kick it up a notch, turn it up a gear, and start getting really crazy. And that's what happened all these 3 times. That and all 3 times I wasn't driving.
My warning thoughts are as follows:
* wanting to have a really good time, because I haven't partied in ages
* wanting to have a really good time, because I want to make the most of it
* wanting to have a really good time, because I didn't make the most of it last time
* wanting to have a really good time, because I'm not driving
* wanting to have a really good time, just for no reason at all
So there has it. I've discovered my internal mental cues, the 'warning signs,' to a potentially messy night. All because I broke my alcoholic seal. Stupid.
Cosmopolitans.
And because of that, I don't think I'll be having any Cosmo's for a LOOONNNNGGGG time.
Let me explain.
It was one of our closest friend's 30th birthday that weekend. Her and her husband, being big spenders, had a pretty extravagant evening planned. A group of 10 of us, were driven over to an exclusive waterfront restaurant, had a HUGE 3 course meal feast, PLENTY of drinks, and then were all driven to a city bar, where we continued to drink, and drink, and drink.... (and dance on podiums....!)
Boy did I pay for it the next day. Following a night, where I had one glass of wine, and about 7-8 Cosmopolitans, it took all the energy I had to keep awake on the drive home. Because I knew if I fell asleep, I might chunder, per Men At Work lyrics.
Getting home, I managed to brush my teeth and remove my make-up with one of those handy moisturised make-up removal wipes. As I crashed into bed, with Hubbie already in his 10th dream beside me, I closed my eyes.
And the world started spinning a dizzying black.
I opened them and closed them. I tried to still the blackness, but everything was whir, whir, whirring. And then I just knew what I had to do.
It wasn't so much that I felt it, more than I sensed it. Then again, maybe my purely intoxicated state disguised the nausea I was feeling. I ran to the toilet and vomited.
No. 1.
Nothing unusual here.... the contents I mean. I had clearly had way too many cocktails towards the end of the night, and my stomach was just emptying out the spare fluid. I went back to bed, and can't remember the rest.
The next morning I very slowly woke up. You know when you're waking up, and it takes you a good few minutes to realise you're awake, and not dreaming? Yeah that's called a hangover.
The hilarious thing about this moment of the day, was that I was in bed, 9:30am, thinking I should get up because the alcohol was still in my system and wouldn't let me fall asleep again. Lying there, I remember looking around the bed sheets and going "I need to wash these, I think I'll do that today." I could see bright light peeking through the blinds, and knew the sun would dry my washing quicker. I thought I'd be good, and despite the previous 'big night,' do some cleaning and washing, before Hubbie got home from work (yes poor thing on a Sunday) and we went out again, to a friend's sons 1st birthday.
Yeah right.
As soon as I was upright, I felt my stomach begin to move. And the nausea just kept getting worse. Previous times that I've over-drank and been sick, I've been sick the night of the craziness, rather than the night after. So I couldn't understand why I felt this way, seeing as I'd chucked the night before. I put it down to needing a coffee and some toast to fill my empty belly, and went about, in agony, preparing my breakfast.
I sat down on the couch to watch tv while I ate my brekkie. The only thing I ended up watching was my plate of toast and coffee mug. I couldn't touch it. I couldn't go near it. I was feeling so unwell by this stage, that I started to doubt whether I actually needed any food. But yet again, in my stubborness to see the situation, I decided to have a sip or two of coffee, followed by a bite of toast.
I was trying to talk myself into it. Internally I was like 'yes the coffee is helping, that's all I need.' Several minutes passed before I attempted another bite. As soon as I began to chew though, the wretchedness started moving from my stomach, into my throat.
I ran to the toilet, posing stationary above it. Realising I still had uneaten toast in my mouth, I ran to the kitchen and spat it into a tissue, disposing of it in the bin. Don't ask me why I did this, but I'm glad I did. I ran back to the toilet, and stood there, waiting. But nothing came immediately. Only my mobile started to ring.
Hubbie had already called me once that morning, before I started feeling so bad. So I was highly doubtful of it being him again. I walked over to my phone, and saw 'Dad.'
I paused a second. Should I answer? I decided I would, knowing that I could talk my way out of it, without anyone being none the wiser of my ailing condition. He couldn't see me.
Hahahahahahaha.
I answered, and he was like "Are you awake?"
Suspicion started creeping into me. "Yeah, I'm just having breakfast, why?"
"Oh well me and your mum are standing outside, and all the blinds are closed.... we're going to the plaza, and thought we'd stop by if it's alright, we haven't seen you in a while...."
That, I believe, is the definition of Murphy's Law.
"Oh, yeah, come in, no problems...."
Had I spat my uneaten toast in the toilet, I wouldn't have had time to run back and flush. It was like my sixth sense had been telling me to.... "be clean."
LOL.
I answered the door, still in pyjamas and nightgown, and they sat down. I knew my best bet was to not hide my tiredness, or my big night, because although I could hide my need to be sick, if they thought I was simply tired, they would think me leaning on the couch, all fetal position like, meant I just needed sleep.
Look, my parents are really cool. My Mum surprises me when she says "nooooo, it's not bad that you can see your bra through that see-through top!" and my dad impresses me with his stories of youth and the crazy things he did back then, like getting into jail and stuff :) (He's really, very good, which is why it's funny!) If I was sick, or showed myself to be sick in front of them, they'd just get unnecessarily worried, and that I didn't need. One person was enough for me to worry about, and at that moment I couldn't even look after that one person properly.
(Deep breath, I feel myself getting nauseous just thinking about it!)
So I acted my way through it. I made small chit chat. I willingly offered the previous nights story, and the plans for the rest of the day, then let them do the rest of the talking, only answering when absolutely necessary. The visit only lasted for 10-15 minutes. All the while I breathed, willing the contents of my stomach not to come flying out of me.
I did feel so bad. I didn't want my parents to think my silence meant my not-wanting them to be there. But I hoped they would just put it down to my 'tiredness.'
I stood at the door and waved to them as they drove off. And then I ran upstairs to the toilet. (I don't know why I went upstairs, I think I was more comfortable there, as it was there I'd thrown up the night before.)
And yes I threw up. Anything I'd managed to consume of my breakfast went. As well as I think some of the night before.
I sat back on the couch, my stomach feeling lighter, and less nauseous. I thought, 'good, now I'll wait 'til I'm 100%, then I'll get myself ready for later on.'
Wrong.
I sat there on the couch for over an hour. I managed to get up and walk around, throw my brekkie away, and sit back down on the couch. I was so crook. Then again, up the stairs I went.
I stood in front of the toilet, gagging for ages. And then I vomited. Again.
This time it WAS from last night. And I swear, I tasted something citrus-y that resembled the overly-abused Cosmo's. Ugh.
That was the last time I threw up. I couldn't believe how sick I'd been and how many times I'd thrown up, so long after the fact. The rest of the story goes: Hubbie came home, convinced me that I'd feel better if I started getting ready; through many tears of protest 'I still need to vomit!' I got ready; we drove to the 1st birthday party; I sat in the stationary car, there, holding my plastic bag, swearing I was gonna throw - I didn't; we survived the party, I put on the best show of my life; and I had my first bit of food at 4pm, that didn't reverse back on me - chocolate cake.
I hadn't eaten 'til 4pm. I'd had plenty of water and soda water, oh and bits of turkish bread from Hubbie's meal. I'd been terrified to consume something in case I became a regurgitating monster in front of everyone at the party, a la Exorcist style.
Had some Macca's chips at the end of the night, and some bites of Hubbie's burger, as we sat at home, still tired from the night before, I myself COMPLETELY drained of energy. Yeah, I know, so healthy right.
But the point of all this is the vomiting. My theory is, since I'd broken the vomit-from-overconsumption-of-alcohol seal, my stomach is now more sensitive, and more likely to throw up alcohol (never mind me overconsuming it!)
I'd taken pride my whole life in proclaiming that I'd never vomited from alcohol. I could always say that I'd drank heaps, but felt tough and strong, and alcoholically able in knowing my stomach could withstand any combination of potent fluids I put into it, MWA HA HA!
But then I broke the seal.
Seal Breaker 1:
My second Christmas party at this my current employer. I decided I hadn't been loose enough my first year, so went about in drinking more that year. Ended up in the toilets, throwing up, with a really sweet colleague calling out "Miss S, are you alright?" over the cubicles (she hung around because a male cleaner was in the toilet, I know, how nice of her right?) I blacked out the second half of the night and fell asleep at the club we were at. A window totally was smashed in near me and I missed it all, all because I got drunk and passed out. A friend took me home that night in his car, and for his kind troubles I invited him to my wedding :)
Then, I only threw up that night. I was queasy the next day, but I didn't projectile anything.
Seal Breaker 2:
Blonde's sisters Hen's night, of which I've mentioned in my post "WOW. What a weekend/s, what a week/s." It was the first girls night I'd been out to since I got married. I got WAAYYY too excited, so much so that I just couldn't waste the champagne that was left behind, (part of the complimentary drinks for our party) when the guest of honour and her friends left (yes, Red and I outstayed the hostess). So I drank it all. I said 'I love you' heaps to Red, or so she tells me. She says I was really amusing and funny, and still funny when she and her sister had to practically carry me back to their car. I stopped being funny when I warned of throwing up in her car on the way home.
Hubbie thought I was being funny when I said, "I'm sick, I'm gonna throw up," as I stumbled my way up to our bedroom late that night/early morning. But when he heard me heaving my lungs out in the toilet, he realised he wasn't gonna get any funny-ness that night.
Again. I only threw up that night, and was left nursing my poor stomach the next day.
This time however, my 3rd time, I've broken my seal altogether, as well as breaking a new seal, that of throwing up THE DAY AFTER. I'm getting more and more out of control. However in an effort to not throw up ever again from alcohol (as I sat in my PJs for half of last Sunday, I felt so crap, and made myself remember the feeling so as to not do it ever again) I've found the link between the 3 seal breaker scenarios, and realise the circumstance under which I must be careful of going overboard. It's simple really.
All 3 times I said to myself internally "I'm gonna make the most of tonight."
It's simple enough yes I know. And most times you would imagine anyone to want to have a great night out, it's practically a given. However, when I look at my watch, and start realising the night is ending, I kick it up a notch, turn it up a gear, and start getting really crazy. And that's what happened all these 3 times. That and all 3 times I wasn't driving.
My warning thoughts are as follows:
* wanting to have a really good time, because I haven't partied in ages
* wanting to have a really good time, because I want to make the most of it
* wanting to have a really good time, because I didn't make the most of it last time
* wanting to have a really good time, because I'm not driving
* wanting to have a really good time, just for no reason at all
So there has it. I've discovered my internal mental cues, the 'warning signs,' to a potentially messy night. All because I broke my alcoholic seal. Stupid.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
2 things
It's been a while since I last wrote about anything happening in my life, and a lot of that has to do with the busy-ness of the Chrissy season. I've been trying to get cards written and sent, presents bought and wrapped, as well as send some pretty packages to family, and Blonde, spending their Christmas' overseas.
All that combined with the boss having sudden surgery, and being slightly overwhelmed at work with the increased workload (merging not so nicely with the busiest time of year for us) and I haven't had much free time for anything else.
The two things that I can say are this:
* With the insect-spraying that Hubbie did weeks ago, (knock on wood) the appearance of spiders has dwindled to none - wait for it - instead being replaced by cockroaches. Yes indeed. It is so weird. Never has there been so many in our house in such a short period of time. And they're fast too, or so Hubbie says when he chases after them. See I just spray them, and spray, until they stop moving. He's the effective one.
* I had this weird dream 2 nights ago that I just had to mention. Really weird. So in the dream, I'm on a train. With me is Red, but also, a friend of mine's sister. I can't remember if the friend is there. I recently met her sister at a lingerie party I held at my place, but in this dream, the sister looks different, more like my friend than the sister. Confused? Ok I will call the friend B in lack of a better name, because I feel creatively challenged right now. So in the dream, B's sister looks more like B, and perhaps that has to do with a real-life convo I had with B where she mentioned her sisters. I've only met one you see, and perhaps my subconscious mind was creating an image of her.
Why all the talk of B's sister? Just wait. Also, Red was at this lingerie party, so they all saw each other there. She said to me later on, that B's sister looked familiar to her, but couldn't remember from where. Maybe this is why Red is also in the dream.
Anyway, in my dream, I have somewhat finished my book. Yes, my book which I intend on beginning to write in the New Year. I say somewhat finished because in the dream the book looked rather thin, and not only do I KNOW I can write way more than that, but I just had a sense in the dream that it was an unfinished rough copy. Nontheless it had a decent cover and all in the dream. And for some reason, the book has ended up in B's sisters hands.
She's flicked through the pages, unenthusiastically scanned the first few paragraphs, and made some remark about it. I don't know even know if she said something to be honest, it was just the vibe I got from her: she didn't like it. In that moment I remember thinking "what can I do? How can I make the beginning more engaging, more interesting?"
And that was about it really. The dream fascinates me because A) in it I have a rough copy of my book, and B) someone who I've met once, who seemed really nice, is critiquing my book in it! Maybe her name has something to do with it. Maybe the thing is, someone of her name, sharing the same name will critique my book, such as an editor..... perhaps. That's a big thing to look out for. My mum tends to say that the opposite happens in dreams.... so will the same-name person like it? I hope so:)
In the last few days I've been thinking of writing a hell of a lot more. A few things have happened lately to inspire me, and along with re-remembering my old childhood loves, in terms of movies and books, reading some inspirational messages from my "The Secret" subscription emails, and I guess just letting the thoughts and ideas run through my head, it's left me feeling really excited. Hubbie's Christmas card to me which I received this morning, contained a message along the lines of "may you reach your goals in the next year."
I loved it. Because I knew what he meant. Even though he considers a lot of my positive-thinking, dream-creating stuff a lot of mumbo-jumbo. He's still supporting me:)
All that combined with the boss having sudden surgery, and being slightly overwhelmed at work with the increased workload (merging not so nicely with the busiest time of year for us) and I haven't had much free time for anything else.
The two things that I can say are this:
* With the insect-spraying that Hubbie did weeks ago, (knock on wood) the appearance of spiders has dwindled to none - wait for it - instead being replaced by cockroaches. Yes indeed. It is so weird. Never has there been so many in our house in such a short period of time. And they're fast too, or so Hubbie says when he chases after them. See I just spray them, and spray, until they stop moving. He's the effective one.
* I had this weird dream 2 nights ago that I just had to mention. Really weird. So in the dream, I'm on a train. With me is Red, but also, a friend of mine's sister. I can't remember if the friend is there. I recently met her sister at a lingerie party I held at my place, but in this dream, the sister looks different, more like my friend than the sister. Confused? Ok I will call the friend B in lack of a better name, because I feel creatively challenged right now. So in the dream, B's sister looks more like B, and perhaps that has to do with a real-life convo I had with B where she mentioned her sisters. I've only met one you see, and perhaps my subconscious mind was creating an image of her.
Why all the talk of B's sister? Just wait. Also, Red was at this lingerie party, so they all saw each other there. She said to me later on, that B's sister looked familiar to her, but couldn't remember from where. Maybe this is why Red is also in the dream.
Anyway, in my dream, I have somewhat finished my book. Yes, my book which I intend on beginning to write in the New Year. I say somewhat finished because in the dream the book looked rather thin, and not only do I KNOW I can write way more than that, but I just had a sense in the dream that it was an unfinished rough copy. Nontheless it had a decent cover and all in the dream. And for some reason, the book has ended up in B's sisters hands.
She's flicked through the pages, unenthusiastically scanned the first few paragraphs, and made some remark about it. I don't know even know if she said something to be honest, it was just the vibe I got from her: she didn't like it. In that moment I remember thinking "what can I do? How can I make the beginning more engaging, more interesting?"
And that was about it really. The dream fascinates me because A) in it I have a rough copy of my book, and B) someone who I've met once, who seemed really nice, is critiquing my book in it! Maybe her name has something to do with it. Maybe the thing is, someone of her name, sharing the same name will critique my book, such as an editor..... perhaps. That's a big thing to look out for. My mum tends to say that the opposite happens in dreams.... so will the same-name person like it? I hope so:)
In the last few days I've been thinking of writing a hell of a lot more. A few things have happened lately to inspire me, and along with re-remembering my old childhood loves, in terms of movies and books, reading some inspirational messages from my "The Secret" subscription emails, and I guess just letting the thoughts and ideas run through my head, it's left me feeling really excited. Hubbie's Christmas card to me which I received this morning, contained a message along the lines of "may you reach your goals in the next year."
I loved it. Because I knew what he meant. Even though he considers a lot of my positive-thinking, dream-creating stuff a lot of mumbo-jumbo. He's still supporting me:)
Monday, December 20, 2010
Happiness Is.... #2
Happiness Is....
Discovering that one of my best friends, Blonde, has bought a 'star' (yes those in the night sky) for Hubbie and I, in our name. Dated on the day we got married.
Can't help but sigh. This is the stuff we shoot to the stars for. (giggle).
Honestly though, she moved me to tears. I feel utterly blessed to have the most amazing women in my life. Mum, Sis, Red and Blonde. My Women. My Inspiration.
Discovering that one of my best friends, Blonde, has bought a 'star' (yes those in the night sky) for Hubbie and I, in our name. Dated on the day we got married.
Can't help but sigh. This is the stuff we shoot to the stars for. (giggle).
Honestly though, she moved me to tears. I feel utterly blessed to have the most amazing women in my life. Mum, Sis, Red and Blonde. My Women. My Inspiration.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Crazy Eye Conclusion...?
It occurred to me a while back that I never properly fillled you in on my crazy eye saga, and what became of my mad-eye twitching.
Perhaps due to the fact that it just sort of dwindled off and disappeared, I almost forgot it had even existed.
I think it's been a few weeks, maybe even a month since my last eye tweaks. It's true what Red said to me, "don't worry, it can come and go, it's not related to any sort of health concern." (She knows all things health-related you see:) )
So I had listened to her, and sure enough the twitchings went away of their own accord. I'm trying to think of what possibly has changed in the last while, whether it's something I've done to help it go away. Unfortunately, all I can think of is the fact that I haven't seen Mouth, in ages.
Is this to say that her presence makes me go psycho? I can't say. Hell of a conversation starter though.
Mouth - "Miss S! It's been ages since I saw you!"
Me - "Yeah, I know! It's for the better you know, I think your presence makes my eye twitch like a mad person, because your personality irritates me so much."
PAUSE.
Can you imagine?
Perhaps due to the fact that it just sort of dwindled off and disappeared, I almost forgot it had even existed.
I think it's been a few weeks, maybe even a month since my last eye tweaks. It's true what Red said to me, "don't worry, it can come and go, it's not related to any sort of health concern." (She knows all things health-related you see:) )
So I had listened to her, and sure enough the twitchings went away of their own accord. I'm trying to think of what possibly has changed in the last while, whether it's something I've done to help it go away. Unfortunately, all I can think of is the fact that I haven't seen Mouth, in ages.
Is this to say that her presence makes me go psycho? I can't say. Hell of a conversation starter though.
Mouth - "Miss S! It's been ages since I saw you!"
Me - "Yeah, I know! It's for the better you know, I think your presence makes my eye twitch like a mad person, because your personality irritates me so much."
PAUSE.
Can you imagine?
The spiders have broken me
Back in my "Bubble and Squeak" post, I sort of gave you a scrambled up version of what had been happening in my life recently. Shortly after that, I remembered that I'd had a huge thing happen, that had absolutely, positively, FREAKED ME OUT. But, I decided that rather than update my post, or mention anything about my freak out, I would pretend nothing had ever happened, therefore ignoring the incident in order to hopefully not attract anything like that again. A la The Secret.
Well, something happened over a week ago, and in a similar although totally more freakish incident earlier this week, and I just can't contain the truth any longer. I must verbalise my fear.
The spiders. Huntsmen. They're baaaaaacccckkkkk.
I need to update you on what happened last time to freak me out so much. I should try and give an edited version of the incident in question, but I don't know if I can. I'll try.
About a month ago now, I was driving into work on a mild-to-developing-hot morning. As I got closer to the city, I remember thinking to myself, "should I open the windows?" I decided against it, and also half forgot. I guess at the time the heavy wind outside put me off.
When I was about 5 minutes away from work, stationary in traffic before some red lights, all of a sudden, something appeared to drop on my car bonnet in front of me.
I stopped and stared. I stared and stared at the object, frozen. Uncertain. Was that a spider?
Surely enough the huntsman scurried along the bonnet to one side. Just thinking of it now makes me shudder.
I was quietly freaking out. Here I was, driving to work, and a huntsman had just apparently dropped from the sky onto my car. Thinking back, I believe I was under a tree when it appeared, so it may have fallen from there.
It started crawling, towards the windscreen, to one side and to the next. I didn't know what to do. I was trying to drive, and getting totally sidetracked by this disgusting THING. I suddenly recalled my decision against opening my window, and thanked God I hadn't, or else it may have come inside my car. With my bad luck that could have happened, and I totally would have had a car accident. I would have gone mental.
I considered putting on my windscreen wipers when it crawled towards the window, however I was worried I would splatter it and have to look at a dead mangled spider for the next 5 minutes, which equally would have grossed me out. However in hindsight, I should have opted for that path. My other concern was that I would fling it, and then not know if it was still on the car. As warped as the logic sounds, at least if it's on the car, I'm certain of it, whereas not knowing it is there, and it IS, I would too easily be careless and then get a heart attack when it decided to reappear again.
So, I drove to the regular car park I go too, and the spider had decided to disappear along the bottom of the wipers. It was as if it was mocking me against my decision to initally use them.
As I approached the small booth that park-ees pay at before proceeding to park, I already had a little plan. D-man, the parking attendant who I see practically every day, was there. I left my window up, and proceeded to attempt sign language for the first time in my life.
"Is there a spider up there?" I yelled through the closed window, simultaneously pointing upwards and imitating a spiders crawl.
He looked confused. Perhaps because I was communicating through a closed window.
"Spider!!! Up there?!" I called louder.
D-man still looked puzzled.
I opened the window an inch. "Is there a spider up there? It was crawling and now it's gone and I'm really scared...."
"No, no, no spider."
"Sure?"
"Yes I'm sure I can't see anything."
I reluctantly, yet quickly opened the window and paid him, not only because I was scared the spider would re-appear but I had a line of cars building up behind me also wanting to get in.
"You scared of spiders?" D-man asked. He had a cheeky grin.
"Yeah, I just don't like them."
"It's ok I understand, my girlfriend is the same. No spiders there, don't worry."
I quickly closed my window, and went to park my car. As soon as I was all parked, and ready to go with my bags, I took a deep breath.
I had to get out of the car, but at the same time, I didn't know where on the car this spider was. My intense fear was that it would somehow fall on me as I climbed out, and the thought of that sent me into a huge desperation and panic.
I decided to sort of push my drivers door open, and then scoot over as close as possible to the passengers side, while still craning my neck towards the open door to try see if there was anything near my drivers side. I was practically sitting on the parking brake. I was there, peering over towards the car door opening, when I saw it.
Shudder.
This is very hard for me, just picturing it is totally freaking me out. I remember my fear and emotional pain and I'm doing it for the blog, so I hope one day someone appreciates it.
Ok, continuing.
The spider was crawling along the drivers side door, up the window. I freaked out, and practically jumped out the passengers side, all my bags in tow. To be honest, I actually have no recollection of jumping out of the car, or how I got over the parking brake and middle-car-bit (excuse my car lingo), that's how freaked out I was. I quickly ran to the drivers side, because I absolutely HAD to know where the spider was. If I lost sight of it, I would never know where it was, and that lack of knowledge would make me lose my mind.
It was now crawling right above the drivers door opening, rather than on the open door. It was in such an awkward position, that I didn't know if closing my door would kill it, force it out, or God forbid, enclose it in the car.
I think I stared at the spider for about 5 minutes, trying to work out what to do. I went to the passenger side and tried to look at where it was through the window. I looked around. I called a fellow work colleague, who we'll call Densley, who I was hoping was on his way to park at the very same car park as I was at. He didn't answer. I would've gotten D-man involved, only he was at his busiest time, with all cars coming in during the morning peak hour.
Before I could think much more, or decide on a plan of action, the spider dropped. It just disappeared. I didn't see where it went, it didn't look like it was on the ground or under the car. It simply dropped, and with it went my stomach.
There was nothing else to do, so I gingerly stepped towards the open drivers door and gently pushed it closed. My light push meant the car door didn't close fully, but that didn't worry me at that point.
At this point it was 9am. I had gotten there before quarter to nine.
As I trudged up towards the attendants booth, D-man saw me. "Where is the spider?" he asked smiling.
"I think it's in my car! I'm so scared, I don't know what to do."
"If you like, give me your keys, and when I have a bit more time, I will check it for you," he offered.
"Thank you." I was hoping he was gonna say that. I just didn't know what to do at that point.
As I trudged towards work, a deepening sense of dread seemed to sink further into me. I realised, that if D-man didn't find the spider, there was absolutely, positively, NO WAY I was driving home that day. The chance of a spider being in the car was too much to bare. I couldn't do it. It had to be killed, and I was beginning to realise that I had to see it get killed. There was no other way to guarantee my sanity and sense of certainty.
As I got to work, I was feeling so helpless, and I don't deal with not being in control of a situation too well. That day was another musical chairs day, I could see as I walked in, as my usual spot was being occupied by someone else, and rather I was going to have the spot next to Kitty. Usually I'd get a bit cranky and possessive about not being in my own spot (because I'm fully anal and have OCD) but today I just didn't care.
As I put my bags down, Kitty started to talk to me about some work of mine she had followed up on. She was chatting and going on and on, and I was just staring at her blankly, adding a monotonous "yeah" every so often.
Then I just said it. There was a slight lull in the conversation, and I went "Kitty, I don't know what to do, there's a big spider and I think it's in my car, and I don't know what to do."
A huge deepening sense of sadness washed over me and my throat tightened. I can't remember her reply. I'm sure it was something comforting.
Again I spoke, this time, my words were FLOODED with emotion. "Kitty, I actually CAN'T drive home if I don't see it dead. I just can't. I'm seriously freaking out." The tightness in my throat gave way to a huge ball that I just couldn't swallow, and tears welled in my eyes. My chin was going to start to quiver, I could feel it.
"I'm sorry, I have to gather myself," I said as I practically ran off. As I ran, hand over half my face, I happened past Densley, who in that moment, had seen that he'd missed my call, and also that I was apparently running off crying.
I was in the kitchen, trying to pull myself together, when I realised the most private place was the bathroom. So again off I ran. When I walked in, another woman was already in there, a newbie who had just recently joined our wider department. I mumbled a hello and stumbled into the cubicle.
Guess what? My parusesis was all GONE as I deliberately made myself go, knowing that just sitting in the cubicle would spark some curiosity in the newbie woman. She didn't have to know why I was traumatised, and I already felt totally stupid for crying over a freaking spider. However it seemed Kitty had other plans.
I heard the door open. "Miss S?" Kitty called.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the spider ok? Densley has a vaccuum and he's going to vaccuum it out for you."
"I feel like such a dickhead Kitty."
"Don't worry Miss S he'll get it out."
As I walked out of the cubicle Kitty was already gone. Leaving the newbie, who had heard our discussion, unless she was selectively deaf.
"You're gonna think of me as the bug woman," I started with her. This statement came because of ANOTHER incident (I just attract incidents don't I?) that had occurred a couple weeks before that, where as a group of us went on a break, before opening the door that exits our department, which is also next to the door which leads to the bathroom, as we walked, a moth flew up from the corner, making me scream, the 2 girls with me scream and also funnily enough Densley scream. It was the screaming moth-effect, so to speak, And as this happened newbie woman had walked out of the bathroom ,witnessing our scream fest due to random moth.
So, now in the bathroom, I told her about the spider in my car. And you know what, she was so nice. She's become one of my fave people at work now. She was really comforting, adding that she had once left her car in mid-traffic because of a spider in her car. I felt so much better hearing that. Apparently I wasn't the only freak-spider-incident-attracting person.
I walked out, all regrouped and breathing normal again, and there was Densley, with a mini vaccuum in hand. I felt really touched, yet really stupid for reacting the way I had, especially at work. He on the otherhand, had thought I'd been in a car accident or something, what with the missed call and running off crying, and he'd felt really bad. He'd gotten the vaccuum from someone's work drawer, and now we were ready to do some damage.
Off we went, me in the background looping with "I feel like such a dickhead, really I do. Thank you so much for this...."
D-man thought we were hilarious as he handed me my keys back at the car park. He'd been busy and hadn't had a chance to check on the demon spider. And so we walked to my car. There still reminding me of my horrendous episode was the drivers door, still partly not-quite-closed.
Densley started opening up doors, as I explained where I'd last seen the spider, and watched from a good safe few metres away what was unfolding. He opened the drivers door, then the passengers door, looking inside and around the door every time. I was near the passengers side, when he opened the rear drivers side door.
"It's here, I've got it," was what he said. I couldn't see (I was practically cowering) but he tried to suck it up with the vaccuum.
And then it started to scurry. (Ugh, shudder). It started to run over the car roof and we whipped into action, slamming doors closed so that it couldn't get into the car. As it wondered where to go, Densley at this point said "it's only a baby."
Sorry, a baby? Only a baby? Well if that's a baby I'd like to see what you call a fully grown huntsman. Yuck.
Densley tried to suck it up with the vaccuum, several times, but somehow, and this is the point that confused me, it 'fell' off the car. I say this because at the time Densley said it fell down, and although I felt utterly disappointed because it offered no conclusion for me, he assured me it wasn't in the car. I consoled myself, thinking, 'even if it's on the bottom of the car, it can't get inside.' He seemed to me to be speaking very vaguely, and so I felt somewhat consoled yet still confused.
I felt exhausted getting back to work. I'd just gone through an emotional train wreck, and I wasn't even sure if I was out of the tunnel yet. Upstairs at work having a tea break with my buddies, I stared at my mug of tea, constantly envisaging the demon spider to suddenly appear, crawling out of my tea like something out of a horror movie.
At the end of my shift that day Densley offered to walk me to my car, and check out the interior so that I could drive home feeling more secure. He was hanging back at work for a work function, and I had to run off, meet Hubbie and leave for Mr Wine's uni graduation party that he was having at his place that night.
Densley was awesome. He lifted everything that could be lifted, checked out every nook and cranny in my car, very thoroughly, constantly reassuring me that it couldn't get in the car, IF it was on the car. It was sometime at this point that he said the spider has actually fallen on the ground, in which case he strongly believed it would have crawled off into the adjoining bushes, rather than hang around. I really hoped he was right, also really glad to know he'd seen it fall on the ground. I was so annoying, I asked him to confirm that fact for me, oh, about 6, 7 times.
Nontheless, I drove home, with the windows UP, in the warm car, constantly looking around me.
Hubbie was conveniently outside when I got home, so I sign languaged to him to check for spiders on the roof of the car. Once again my sign language proved futile, and he looked confused despite me yelling through the window, so I tentatively opened the door and quicky explained before I got out.
That night at the party, I told Red everything. I had a good laugh with her about it, we acted slightly like hysterical women do when it comes to spiders, and she told me that yes, that was quite a story. Vaccuum and all.
And so, as the great night ended, and it came close to midnight, Hubbie and I wondered off home. We both had work the next day, and had to get a move on. Being dark outside, my somewhat relaxed disposition in joking about my ordeal to Red had now transgressed to a paranoid cautiousness. In the car we got, and I began to drive, again constantly looking around me through the windows.
We had been driving all but 5 minutes. Not even. I took a path home via some back streets, however they were sort of commonly used back streets. This time of night wasn't too busy though.
I looked at my drivers mirror, and in it I could see the rear window, enveloped by the black night surrounding it. No cars were behind me, so only occasionally was the window lit up by passing streetlamps.
Then I saw something. Weird.
"Is that birdshit?" I asked Hubbie, confused, still driving yet staring at the reflection in my mirror. It looked like odd, random lines across the window, and when I thought about it I could've sworn no birdshit had been there during the day...
Hubbie turned around towards the rear window to look. He didn't say a thing. And in that moment, I knew.
I just pulled over. I barely could, being in the narrow back streets and all, but without looking I stopped the car, then put my indicator on. I was lucky there'd been no one behind me. I looked behind me at the window, and the freaking spider, IT was very quickly scurrying across the window.
"Quick!" I screamed. "Get it, get it!"
Hubbie and I have an unspoken agreement. I give him much love and happiness. He kills any bug I request. It's an agreement that works very well for us. It's never a question of WHO will get rid of any weird thing that comes MY way. He knows his job, his duty to protect me. And he does it well.
"Close the door!" I screeched. Hubbie slammed the door behind him, and I turned around to see the spider scurrying around to the rear passengers window, right where Hubbie was in front of. It was fast.
"Where is it?" he called out from the darkness.
"There!" I screamed wildly, pointing to the rear window in front of him.
He paused. Saw the spider. And went "Faaaaarrrrrrrr."
In a matter of 5 seconds, he took off his shoe, and BANG! Off the window the spider went. To spider heaven.
Meanwhile, about 3 cars had piled up behind me, unable to overtake because of the oncoming traffic. I wondered if the sight of Hubbie with one shoe, other shoe in hand bashing a spider, at 11.30pm in a little back street, would seem weird. I knew if any men in those cars had partners, that it would most likely be a natural occurence for them.
Hubbie came back to the car, and once again, as I'd done with Densley, I bombarded him with the same 2 types of questions about 8 times:
"Is it dead?"
"Yes."
"Was it on the car or on the ground?"
"It was on the ground."
"Are you sure it's not still on your shoe?"
"No I checked it's outside."
"So it's definitely dead?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure it was on the ground, like dead? It couldn't have gotten away."
"No, I got it Miss S."
"And I just have to make sure, it's not still on your shoe? I can't have it in my car Hubbie...."
And so this conversation was repeated, perhaps another 3 times on the short 10 minute drive home.
Boy, had I had a day. What a spider saga. Now it was uncertain to me whether or not the spider that had 'reappeared ' that night on the drive home was the same spider hat had been on my car that morning. I say that because Mr Wine lives in the same area Hubbie used to live, and that area is abundant to THOSE kinds of spiders, as I've had one come to live on my car for a couple of weeks because of parking under a tree there before we were married.
That, combined with hearing a few days later that my bestie Red had gotten a similar surprise of her own, FINDING a yuck spider IN HER CAR, after parking at her man's house, makes me think that it may indeed have been a new spider on my car that night, if even Red got one later on. But, it's too much of a coincidence for me to think that I had a spider on my car that morning, and then another one that night.
I'm calling the morning spider the terminator spider in my spider saga. It came back with a vengeance. It stayed on my car and reappeared to horrify me (yes I know that's not a real word, is it?). And in true terminator style, after its demise, all that remained of its existence was a lone spider leg hanging off my window, like the broken limb rattling on the back of the car in T2. Shudder.
Story 2: (yes my nightmare continues)
About 2 weeks ago I've come home from work to some good news from Hubbie: he has sprayed the entire exterior of the house with insect spray. I was rapt, because with the ascending Spring/Summer weather, I knew there'd be trouble, and I wanted to get the house 'protected' before any incidents occurred.
All was good, all was fine. 'Til that night.
In bed, Hubbie had his eyes closed next to me. I was reading one of my books, and as I went to turn the page, something caught my eye, above me. I looked up.
A freaking, massive, disgusting huntsman (shudder) was in the top corner of our room, above the doorway, near the air con vent. (And as I write, from bed, I can't help but look up and check that the coast is clear).
I don't know if I cried out, or poked Hubbie, but he opened his eyes, and I just pointed to the ceiling.
Once again - "Faaaaarrrrrrr."
At first he didn't know what he was going to try kill it with, 'til I handed him my slipper. I jumped out of bed and stood near the window, as far away from the impending murder scene as possible. As he got closer, the spider scurried closer to the vent. This was very worrysome. We assume that's where it came from, and we didn't want it going back to its hiding spot. Hubbie was now on a mission, he had to get it, before it got away.
From what he said (because I just couldn't look), IT was quick. It took a few thumps, Hubbie jumping towards the ceiling and all, but he got it, leaving a beautiful mess behind. Far out. On the same freaking day Hubbie had acted to repell the house of insects, the biggest and baddest of them all appears, IN OUR BEDROOM of all places. And that's not it. Guess what my big mouth said right after, if only to make things worse:
"Far out. Imagine I wasn't reading, and we had the lights off. We wouldn't have known it was here."
As I said the words, I stopped, frozen. Yes, imagine that horrific scenario. Unknown to us, that thing crawling around the walls of our bedroom around us. And to think, what other times, when the lights were off, was something crawling around in our beddroom....???
I'd actually shot myself in the foot with that comment, that observation. In that moment I was more than terrified, I was petrified, MORTIFIED. It took some coaxing from Hubbie to make me turn my lamp light off, and even then, I edged myself as close as possible to him as we lay there, despite the too-warm night. My eyes frantically searched the walls around me in the darkness, as my eyes grew more and more adjusted to the night. That night, I had constant dreams of crawling huntsmen, and I had such an interrupted nights sleep, waking at least 5 times, each time searching the walls around me with paranoid eyes.
I felt I had lost control.
Why was this happening to me? No, not the spiders as much. I was well aware that by thinking of spiders, even though in fear, I was still attracting their presence to me. Which is hard to avoid when you do think of them in fear. But more, I didn't understand when I had grown sooooooo fearful.
I thought of my entire life history and association with spiders. In my 3rd birthday video, little Miss S says to the camera "spider, yuck," after cutesy-coaxing from my parents in my thoughts of them. This may have come about because of my sisters intense phobia of spiders, hence the discussion of them.
Living with my parents, yes they got spiders, but nowhere near as many, or as disgusting as the ones we got here. Over there there was always daddy-long-legs, and little itty-bitty, bullshit jumping spiders. Sure, occasionally there would be a big one. But that's it, occasionally, not EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I thought of last summer. WOW. There had been soooooo many big huntsmen. Hubbie thought I was calling them out to play when he went to bed, with all my stories of chasing them around with the mortein. And yet, despite their appearances, I chased them. I certainly didn't cower into a little corner and cry.
I remembered my last incident of the summer. The biggest grand-daddy of all mega-huge-huntsmen had appeared one Friday night, and it was a horrible experience. I think it was quite possibly the size of my whole hand. I sprayed it, it went behind the fridge, and I actually had to watch it and wait for it to be in spraying range again before I could try kill it. I was waiting with a torch and all. Then it disappeared under the dishwasher. When I noticed a gap above the dishwasher, that could allow the spider to crawl up and into the adjoining section of cupboards, onto my servingware, pots and pans, I lost my shit. There was no way it's mortein-covered body was gonna spoil my dishes. I ran upstairs, trying to wake Hubbie through my intense sobbing, begging him to come downstairs and kill it for me.
When he moved the dishwasher, and saw IT, apparently all-white covered in Mortein gunk, he says it was practically dead already, it was so loaded with my attack spray. And what did he say when he saw it?
"Faaaaarrrrrr."
He freely admits, it's the biggest spider he's seen in our house, I think even to date. And it remains in our spider history of stories, the Grand-Daddy of spiders.
So I think, after last summers intense onslaught of spider after spider coming into our home, concluding with the biggest mother you've ever seen, I actually became broken from all my experiences, and rather than lifting my metaphorical sword in the air and proclaiming "I will destroy you," I've collapsed into a shell of fear, worry and paranoia. I'm not kidding when I say I do automatic scans of the rooms I enter in the house, ESPECIALLY at night. It's driving me crazy.
I must say, despite the whole agony of this post, being all "woe is me, spiders are out to get me," there is a slight positive note I can end with. Since the recent incident of the thing in our bedroom, we haven't had another appearance, of any kind (I'm not including last nights daddy-long-legs, that spider is so not intimidating). Which I'm slightly terrified to admit, knowing after I post this that I'm walking downstairs to put my computer back in the study, and passing room, after room, after room....
Perhaps that one recent incident was that spider just getting out, that is, the house being purged of all insects after Hubbies spray-a-thon. That sort of makes sense. And makes me happy. And able to breathe. And walk in and out of rooms here, a bit easier.
But what happened to me earlier in the week wasn't so breathe-easy on me. Having a tea break at work, early in the morning, listening to a colleague talk about crab fishing or something like that, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, towards my lap.
I looked down, and to my intense shock and horror, a MOTH was sitting in my lap. Ugh, Shudder.
I screamed jumping up, in turn not only giving myself a proper wake-up call, but also enlightening my colleagues around me. My scream really started their day.
Geez. When will these bugs ever learn? I don't like them. STAY AWAY.
Well, something happened over a week ago, and in a similar although totally more freakish incident earlier this week, and I just can't contain the truth any longer. I must verbalise my fear.
The spiders. Huntsmen. They're baaaaaacccckkkkk.
I need to update you on what happened last time to freak me out so much. I should try and give an edited version of the incident in question, but I don't know if I can. I'll try.
About a month ago now, I was driving into work on a mild-to-developing-hot morning. As I got closer to the city, I remember thinking to myself, "should I open the windows?" I decided against it, and also half forgot. I guess at the time the heavy wind outside put me off.
When I was about 5 minutes away from work, stationary in traffic before some red lights, all of a sudden, something appeared to drop on my car bonnet in front of me.
I stopped and stared. I stared and stared at the object, frozen. Uncertain. Was that a spider?
Surely enough the huntsman scurried along the bonnet to one side. Just thinking of it now makes me shudder.
I was quietly freaking out. Here I was, driving to work, and a huntsman had just apparently dropped from the sky onto my car. Thinking back, I believe I was under a tree when it appeared, so it may have fallen from there.
It started crawling, towards the windscreen, to one side and to the next. I didn't know what to do. I was trying to drive, and getting totally sidetracked by this disgusting THING. I suddenly recalled my decision against opening my window, and thanked God I hadn't, or else it may have come inside my car. With my bad luck that could have happened, and I totally would have had a car accident. I would have gone mental.
I considered putting on my windscreen wipers when it crawled towards the window, however I was worried I would splatter it and have to look at a dead mangled spider for the next 5 minutes, which equally would have grossed me out. However in hindsight, I should have opted for that path. My other concern was that I would fling it, and then not know if it was still on the car. As warped as the logic sounds, at least if it's on the car, I'm certain of it, whereas not knowing it is there, and it IS, I would too easily be careless and then get a heart attack when it decided to reappear again.
So, I drove to the regular car park I go too, and the spider had decided to disappear along the bottom of the wipers. It was as if it was mocking me against my decision to initally use them.
As I approached the small booth that park-ees pay at before proceeding to park, I already had a little plan. D-man, the parking attendant who I see practically every day, was there. I left my window up, and proceeded to attempt sign language for the first time in my life.
"Is there a spider up there?" I yelled through the closed window, simultaneously pointing upwards and imitating a spiders crawl.
He looked confused. Perhaps because I was communicating through a closed window.
"Spider!!! Up there?!" I called louder.
D-man still looked puzzled.
I opened the window an inch. "Is there a spider up there? It was crawling and now it's gone and I'm really scared...."
"No, no, no spider."
"Sure?"
"Yes I'm sure I can't see anything."
I reluctantly, yet quickly opened the window and paid him, not only because I was scared the spider would re-appear but I had a line of cars building up behind me also wanting to get in.
"You scared of spiders?" D-man asked. He had a cheeky grin.
"Yeah, I just don't like them."
"It's ok I understand, my girlfriend is the same. No spiders there, don't worry."
I quickly closed my window, and went to park my car. As soon as I was all parked, and ready to go with my bags, I took a deep breath.
I had to get out of the car, but at the same time, I didn't know where on the car this spider was. My intense fear was that it would somehow fall on me as I climbed out, and the thought of that sent me into a huge desperation and panic.
I decided to sort of push my drivers door open, and then scoot over as close as possible to the passengers side, while still craning my neck towards the open door to try see if there was anything near my drivers side. I was practically sitting on the parking brake. I was there, peering over towards the car door opening, when I saw it.
Shudder.
This is very hard for me, just picturing it is totally freaking me out. I remember my fear and emotional pain and I'm doing it for the blog, so I hope one day someone appreciates it.
Ok, continuing.
The spider was crawling along the drivers side door, up the window. I freaked out, and practically jumped out the passengers side, all my bags in tow. To be honest, I actually have no recollection of jumping out of the car, or how I got over the parking brake and middle-car-bit (excuse my car lingo), that's how freaked out I was. I quickly ran to the drivers side, because I absolutely HAD to know where the spider was. If I lost sight of it, I would never know where it was, and that lack of knowledge would make me lose my mind.
It was now crawling right above the drivers door opening, rather than on the open door. It was in such an awkward position, that I didn't know if closing my door would kill it, force it out, or God forbid, enclose it in the car.
I think I stared at the spider for about 5 minutes, trying to work out what to do. I went to the passenger side and tried to look at where it was through the window. I looked around. I called a fellow work colleague, who we'll call Densley, who I was hoping was on his way to park at the very same car park as I was at. He didn't answer. I would've gotten D-man involved, only he was at his busiest time, with all cars coming in during the morning peak hour.
Before I could think much more, or decide on a plan of action, the spider dropped. It just disappeared. I didn't see where it went, it didn't look like it was on the ground or under the car. It simply dropped, and with it went my stomach.
There was nothing else to do, so I gingerly stepped towards the open drivers door and gently pushed it closed. My light push meant the car door didn't close fully, but that didn't worry me at that point.
At this point it was 9am. I had gotten there before quarter to nine.
As I trudged up towards the attendants booth, D-man saw me. "Where is the spider?" he asked smiling.
"I think it's in my car! I'm so scared, I don't know what to do."
"If you like, give me your keys, and when I have a bit more time, I will check it for you," he offered.
"Thank you." I was hoping he was gonna say that. I just didn't know what to do at that point.
As I trudged towards work, a deepening sense of dread seemed to sink further into me. I realised, that if D-man didn't find the spider, there was absolutely, positively, NO WAY I was driving home that day. The chance of a spider being in the car was too much to bare. I couldn't do it. It had to be killed, and I was beginning to realise that I had to see it get killed. There was no other way to guarantee my sanity and sense of certainty.
As I got to work, I was feeling so helpless, and I don't deal with not being in control of a situation too well. That day was another musical chairs day, I could see as I walked in, as my usual spot was being occupied by someone else, and rather I was going to have the spot next to Kitty. Usually I'd get a bit cranky and possessive about not being in my own spot (because I'm fully anal and have OCD) but today I just didn't care.
As I put my bags down, Kitty started to talk to me about some work of mine she had followed up on. She was chatting and going on and on, and I was just staring at her blankly, adding a monotonous "yeah" every so often.
Then I just said it. There was a slight lull in the conversation, and I went "Kitty, I don't know what to do, there's a big spider and I think it's in my car, and I don't know what to do."
A huge deepening sense of sadness washed over me and my throat tightened. I can't remember her reply. I'm sure it was something comforting.
Again I spoke, this time, my words were FLOODED with emotion. "Kitty, I actually CAN'T drive home if I don't see it dead. I just can't. I'm seriously freaking out." The tightness in my throat gave way to a huge ball that I just couldn't swallow, and tears welled in my eyes. My chin was going to start to quiver, I could feel it.
"I'm sorry, I have to gather myself," I said as I practically ran off. As I ran, hand over half my face, I happened past Densley, who in that moment, had seen that he'd missed my call, and also that I was apparently running off crying.
I was in the kitchen, trying to pull myself together, when I realised the most private place was the bathroom. So again off I ran. When I walked in, another woman was already in there, a newbie who had just recently joined our wider department. I mumbled a hello and stumbled into the cubicle.
Guess what? My parusesis was all GONE as I deliberately made myself go, knowing that just sitting in the cubicle would spark some curiosity in the newbie woman. She didn't have to know why I was traumatised, and I already felt totally stupid for crying over a freaking spider. However it seemed Kitty had other plans.
I heard the door open. "Miss S?" Kitty called.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the spider ok? Densley has a vaccuum and he's going to vaccuum it out for you."
"I feel like such a dickhead Kitty."
"Don't worry Miss S he'll get it out."
As I walked out of the cubicle Kitty was already gone. Leaving the newbie, who had heard our discussion, unless she was selectively deaf.
"You're gonna think of me as the bug woman," I started with her. This statement came because of ANOTHER incident (I just attract incidents don't I?) that had occurred a couple weeks before that, where as a group of us went on a break, before opening the door that exits our department, which is also next to the door which leads to the bathroom, as we walked, a moth flew up from the corner, making me scream, the 2 girls with me scream and also funnily enough Densley scream. It was the screaming moth-effect, so to speak, And as this happened newbie woman had walked out of the bathroom ,witnessing our scream fest due to random moth.
So, now in the bathroom, I told her about the spider in my car. And you know what, she was so nice. She's become one of my fave people at work now. She was really comforting, adding that she had once left her car in mid-traffic because of a spider in her car. I felt so much better hearing that. Apparently I wasn't the only freak-spider-incident-attracting person.
I walked out, all regrouped and breathing normal again, and there was Densley, with a mini vaccuum in hand. I felt really touched, yet really stupid for reacting the way I had, especially at work. He on the otherhand, had thought I'd been in a car accident or something, what with the missed call and running off crying, and he'd felt really bad. He'd gotten the vaccuum from someone's work drawer, and now we were ready to do some damage.
Off we went, me in the background looping with "I feel like such a dickhead, really I do. Thank you so much for this...."
D-man thought we were hilarious as he handed me my keys back at the car park. He'd been busy and hadn't had a chance to check on the demon spider. And so we walked to my car. There still reminding me of my horrendous episode was the drivers door, still partly not-quite-closed.
Densley started opening up doors, as I explained where I'd last seen the spider, and watched from a good safe few metres away what was unfolding. He opened the drivers door, then the passengers door, looking inside and around the door every time. I was near the passengers side, when he opened the rear drivers side door.
"It's here, I've got it," was what he said. I couldn't see (I was practically cowering) but he tried to suck it up with the vaccuum.
And then it started to scurry. (Ugh, shudder). It started to run over the car roof and we whipped into action, slamming doors closed so that it couldn't get into the car. As it wondered where to go, Densley at this point said "it's only a baby."
Sorry, a baby? Only a baby? Well if that's a baby I'd like to see what you call a fully grown huntsman. Yuck.
Densley tried to suck it up with the vaccuum, several times, but somehow, and this is the point that confused me, it 'fell' off the car. I say this because at the time Densley said it fell down, and although I felt utterly disappointed because it offered no conclusion for me, he assured me it wasn't in the car. I consoled myself, thinking, 'even if it's on the bottom of the car, it can't get inside.' He seemed to me to be speaking very vaguely, and so I felt somewhat consoled yet still confused.
I felt exhausted getting back to work. I'd just gone through an emotional train wreck, and I wasn't even sure if I was out of the tunnel yet. Upstairs at work having a tea break with my buddies, I stared at my mug of tea, constantly envisaging the demon spider to suddenly appear, crawling out of my tea like something out of a horror movie.
At the end of my shift that day Densley offered to walk me to my car, and check out the interior so that I could drive home feeling more secure. He was hanging back at work for a work function, and I had to run off, meet Hubbie and leave for Mr Wine's uni graduation party that he was having at his place that night.
Densley was awesome. He lifted everything that could be lifted, checked out every nook and cranny in my car, very thoroughly, constantly reassuring me that it couldn't get in the car, IF it was on the car. It was sometime at this point that he said the spider has actually fallen on the ground, in which case he strongly believed it would have crawled off into the adjoining bushes, rather than hang around. I really hoped he was right, also really glad to know he'd seen it fall on the ground. I was so annoying, I asked him to confirm that fact for me, oh, about 6, 7 times.
Nontheless, I drove home, with the windows UP, in the warm car, constantly looking around me.
Hubbie was conveniently outside when I got home, so I sign languaged to him to check for spiders on the roof of the car. Once again my sign language proved futile, and he looked confused despite me yelling through the window, so I tentatively opened the door and quicky explained before I got out.
That night at the party, I told Red everything. I had a good laugh with her about it, we acted slightly like hysterical women do when it comes to spiders, and she told me that yes, that was quite a story. Vaccuum and all.
And so, as the great night ended, and it came close to midnight, Hubbie and I wondered off home. We both had work the next day, and had to get a move on. Being dark outside, my somewhat relaxed disposition in joking about my ordeal to Red had now transgressed to a paranoid cautiousness. In the car we got, and I began to drive, again constantly looking around me through the windows.
We had been driving all but 5 minutes. Not even. I took a path home via some back streets, however they were sort of commonly used back streets. This time of night wasn't too busy though.
I looked at my drivers mirror, and in it I could see the rear window, enveloped by the black night surrounding it. No cars were behind me, so only occasionally was the window lit up by passing streetlamps.
Then I saw something. Weird.
"Is that birdshit?" I asked Hubbie, confused, still driving yet staring at the reflection in my mirror. It looked like odd, random lines across the window, and when I thought about it I could've sworn no birdshit had been there during the day...
Hubbie turned around towards the rear window to look. He didn't say a thing. And in that moment, I knew.
I just pulled over. I barely could, being in the narrow back streets and all, but without looking I stopped the car, then put my indicator on. I was lucky there'd been no one behind me. I looked behind me at the window, and the freaking spider, IT was very quickly scurrying across the window.
"Quick!" I screamed. "Get it, get it!"
Hubbie and I have an unspoken agreement. I give him much love and happiness. He kills any bug I request. It's an agreement that works very well for us. It's never a question of WHO will get rid of any weird thing that comes MY way. He knows his job, his duty to protect me. And he does it well.
"Close the door!" I screeched. Hubbie slammed the door behind him, and I turned around to see the spider scurrying around to the rear passengers window, right where Hubbie was in front of. It was fast.
"Where is it?" he called out from the darkness.
"There!" I screamed wildly, pointing to the rear window in front of him.
He paused. Saw the spider. And went "Faaaaarrrrrrrr."
In a matter of 5 seconds, he took off his shoe, and BANG! Off the window the spider went. To spider heaven.
Meanwhile, about 3 cars had piled up behind me, unable to overtake because of the oncoming traffic. I wondered if the sight of Hubbie with one shoe, other shoe in hand bashing a spider, at 11.30pm in a little back street, would seem weird. I knew if any men in those cars had partners, that it would most likely be a natural occurence for them.
Hubbie came back to the car, and once again, as I'd done with Densley, I bombarded him with the same 2 types of questions about 8 times:
"Is it dead?"
"Yes."
"Was it on the car or on the ground?"
"It was on the ground."
"Are you sure it's not still on your shoe?"
"No I checked it's outside."
"So it's definitely dead?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure it was on the ground, like dead? It couldn't have gotten away."
"No, I got it Miss S."
"And I just have to make sure, it's not still on your shoe? I can't have it in my car Hubbie...."
And so this conversation was repeated, perhaps another 3 times on the short 10 minute drive home.
Boy, had I had a day. What a spider saga. Now it was uncertain to me whether or not the spider that had 'reappeared ' that night on the drive home was the same spider hat had been on my car that morning. I say that because Mr Wine lives in the same area Hubbie used to live, and that area is abundant to THOSE kinds of spiders, as I've had one come to live on my car for a couple of weeks because of parking under a tree there before we were married.
That, combined with hearing a few days later that my bestie Red had gotten a similar surprise of her own, FINDING a yuck spider IN HER CAR, after parking at her man's house, makes me think that it may indeed have been a new spider on my car that night, if even Red got one later on. But, it's too much of a coincidence for me to think that I had a spider on my car that morning, and then another one that night.
I'm calling the morning spider the terminator spider in my spider saga. It came back with a vengeance. It stayed on my car and reappeared to horrify me (yes I know that's not a real word, is it?). And in true terminator style, after its demise, all that remained of its existence was a lone spider leg hanging off my window, like the broken limb rattling on the back of the car in T2. Shudder.
Story 2: (yes my nightmare continues)
About 2 weeks ago I've come home from work to some good news from Hubbie: he has sprayed the entire exterior of the house with insect spray. I was rapt, because with the ascending Spring/Summer weather, I knew there'd be trouble, and I wanted to get the house 'protected' before any incidents occurred.
All was good, all was fine. 'Til that night.
In bed, Hubbie had his eyes closed next to me. I was reading one of my books, and as I went to turn the page, something caught my eye, above me. I looked up.
A freaking, massive, disgusting huntsman (shudder) was in the top corner of our room, above the doorway, near the air con vent. (And as I write, from bed, I can't help but look up and check that the coast is clear).
I don't know if I cried out, or poked Hubbie, but he opened his eyes, and I just pointed to the ceiling.
Once again - "Faaaaarrrrrrr."
At first he didn't know what he was going to try kill it with, 'til I handed him my slipper. I jumped out of bed and stood near the window, as far away from the impending murder scene as possible. As he got closer, the spider scurried closer to the vent. This was very worrysome. We assume that's where it came from, and we didn't want it going back to its hiding spot. Hubbie was now on a mission, he had to get it, before it got away.
From what he said (because I just couldn't look), IT was quick. It took a few thumps, Hubbie jumping towards the ceiling and all, but he got it, leaving a beautiful mess behind. Far out. On the same freaking day Hubbie had acted to repell the house of insects, the biggest and baddest of them all appears, IN OUR BEDROOM of all places. And that's not it. Guess what my big mouth said right after, if only to make things worse:
"Far out. Imagine I wasn't reading, and we had the lights off. We wouldn't have known it was here."
As I said the words, I stopped, frozen. Yes, imagine that horrific scenario. Unknown to us, that thing crawling around the walls of our bedroom around us. And to think, what other times, when the lights were off, was something crawling around in our beddroom....???
I'd actually shot myself in the foot with that comment, that observation. In that moment I was more than terrified, I was petrified, MORTIFIED. It took some coaxing from Hubbie to make me turn my lamp light off, and even then, I edged myself as close as possible to him as we lay there, despite the too-warm night. My eyes frantically searched the walls around me in the darkness, as my eyes grew more and more adjusted to the night. That night, I had constant dreams of crawling huntsmen, and I had such an interrupted nights sleep, waking at least 5 times, each time searching the walls around me with paranoid eyes.
I felt I had lost control.
Why was this happening to me? No, not the spiders as much. I was well aware that by thinking of spiders, even though in fear, I was still attracting their presence to me. Which is hard to avoid when you do think of them in fear. But more, I didn't understand when I had grown sooooooo fearful.
I thought of my entire life history and association with spiders. In my 3rd birthday video, little Miss S says to the camera "spider, yuck," after cutesy-coaxing from my parents in my thoughts of them. This may have come about because of my sisters intense phobia of spiders, hence the discussion of them.
Living with my parents, yes they got spiders, but nowhere near as many, or as disgusting as the ones we got here. Over there there was always daddy-long-legs, and little itty-bitty, bullshit jumping spiders. Sure, occasionally there would be a big one. But that's it, occasionally, not EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I thought of last summer. WOW. There had been soooooo many big huntsmen. Hubbie thought I was calling them out to play when he went to bed, with all my stories of chasing them around with the mortein. And yet, despite their appearances, I chased them. I certainly didn't cower into a little corner and cry.
I remembered my last incident of the summer. The biggest grand-daddy of all mega-huge-huntsmen had appeared one Friday night, and it was a horrible experience. I think it was quite possibly the size of my whole hand. I sprayed it, it went behind the fridge, and I actually had to watch it and wait for it to be in spraying range again before I could try kill it. I was waiting with a torch and all. Then it disappeared under the dishwasher. When I noticed a gap above the dishwasher, that could allow the spider to crawl up and into the adjoining section of cupboards, onto my servingware, pots and pans, I lost my shit. There was no way it's mortein-covered body was gonna spoil my dishes. I ran upstairs, trying to wake Hubbie through my intense sobbing, begging him to come downstairs and kill it for me.
When he moved the dishwasher, and saw IT, apparently all-white covered in Mortein gunk, he says it was practically dead already, it was so loaded with my attack spray. And what did he say when he saw it?
"Faaaaarrrrrr."
He freely admits, it's the biggest spider he's seen in our house, I think even to date. And it remains in our spider history of stories, the Grand-Daddy of spiders.
So I think, after last summers intense onslaught of spider after spider coming into our home, concluding with the biggest mother you've ever seen, I actually became broken from all my experiences, and rather than lifting my metaphorical sword in the air and proclaiming "I will destroy you," I've collapsed into a shell of fear, worry and paranoia. I'm not kidding when I say I do automatic scans of the rooms I enter in the house, ESPECIALLY at night. It's driving me crazy.
I must say, despite the whole agony of this post, being all "woe is me, spiders are out to get me," there is a slight positive note I can end with. Since the recent incident of the thing in our bedroom, we haven't had another appearance, of any kind (I'm not including last nights daddy-long-legs, that spider is so not intimidating). Which I'm slightly terrified to admit, knowing after I post this that I'm walking downstairs to put my computer back in the study, and passing room, after room, after room....
Perhaps that one recent incident was that spider just getting out, that is, the house being purged of all insects after Hubbies spray-a-thon. That sort of makes sense. And makes me happy. And able to breathe. And walk in and out of rooms here, a bit easier.
But what happened to me earlier in the week wasn't so breathe-easy on me. Having a tea break at work, early in the morning, listening to a colleague talk about crab fishing or something like that, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, towards my lap.
I looked down, and to my intense shock and horror, a MOTH was sitting in my lap. Ugh, Shudder.
I screamed jumping up, in turn not only giving myself a proper wake-up call, but also enlightening my colleagues around me. My scream really started their day.
Geez. When will these bugs ever learn? I don't like them. STAY AWAY.
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