it's strange to think that just over a year ago i moved from the states into a new land. even stranger still to realize that it's been almost a year since i got married. and perhaps, even more strange is that fact that we are seriously discussing buying a house so that we can have a home to raise a baby.somehow the talk of mortgages and 3 am feedings makes all the amount of growing up i've done in the past two years seem so very inconsequential.now, don't jump to conclusions. there is no bun in the oven. well not the non-edible kind at any rate. but there is talk of it. and while the other half is still unsure. we are making the plans. and my goodness there is a lot of planning.i suppose that is the problem with marrying a project manager type. everything gets listed and weighed. we don't do anything before the costs are tallied. it is a very different way of living than i am used to. i tend to jump first. then check to see if i have a place to land. or if all else fails. i squeeze my eyes shut and will wings to sprout out of my back.but i suppose i can't do that anymore. i can't jump anymore because i have to think about someone else's heart and not just my own. especially not if i am really thinking about being a mom. it's all part of growing up i guess.i don't really mind.in a way. i think i still shut my eyes. and took a step forward. without ever really knowing what i was stepping off of.but now. i have someone holding my hand. and his eyes are open.
...visits with your husband. planned sleepovers.trying to ignore any tension. pretending to unsee any elephants.but at ease. comforted. in the falsely familiar.treading water carefully. holding your head up high. protecting your heart from the surge of emotions and high water.hopeful that your feet will touch land.soon.
life is pretty still at the moment. after the move down to warwick. it's as if we have become goldfish. growing only as large as their bowl. only we've shrunk. we venture out less. we enjoy the confines of our small home in the confines of our small town.husband is getting into the ebb and flow of emails and paperwork which rolls over his desk. he is happy on his island of industrious labor.i am working. it is good to get back into the routine. wake up. shower. dress. work. converse with other beings of the human persuasion. go home. make dinner. cuddle with husband until sleep calls to us.our antisocial cat has wandered into the world outside our window. though, as a recluse she remains as unfriendly to strangers as ever. the sound of the trains and cars send her careening back into the open window. eyes wide and tail spiky. her forays into the jungle of domestic plants has given her more courage with the small rodents in our house. she attempts to sniff and say hello. but alas, the larger of the two is still very protective of her sister. and the kitten now has a small scab on her nose, the same size as a set of rat teeth.the rats are happy. they have branched out from only owning two levels of our bookcase to now calling three and sometimes four levels home. the dvds still stand proudly on the remaining fifth level. there are tea boxes, rocks, cardboard stairs, and tin cans. a world of happy rubbish for the rats to rule. it's amazing how such small creatures can make such a large mess of your house. the mess i think is equivalent to the amount of love and entertainment you receive when you give a pair of rats a home.so life is good. it is simple. it is day by day. a walk with my husband. hand in hand. simple.simple and happy.
so today is the second day this week where i have actually gone a full 24 hours (possibly more) sans shower.i know it's gross. but. really. i'm ill. which actually when i think about it is even more reason i should have showered. meh.but just because i didn't shower doesn't mean i did not have an eventful day. okay. maybe it does. but you know... i did do stuff. stuff that did not involve me leaving the house.i tidied my room. i now have more clean surfaces for which my clutter can grow from. i started my visa process. *fist shake* damn visas. i even put out my little collection of cookbooks that has multiplied since i arrived back in the states in september. this is not my fault. people buy my gigantormous cookbooks. crazy people. people who forget that i'll have to travel with it now since i'm kinda still in housing limbo.let's see... what else did i do? in between my nap and dozing on the couch i also hung (snigger... i said hung). ahem. i also hung a curtain on one of my windows so that i can keep some semblance of heat in my otherwise drafty room. why only one curtain? because that's all i could find in the basement. plus at some point i actually enjoy to have the sun in my room. despite other peoples idea of me shunning the daylight.hrmm... you know. listing all the things i did today does not do much to prove the point that me not showering for a day is an okay thing. it's like the pros are disproportionately in favor of showering given the lack of any valid excuse for not doing so.meh.i'm ill.i still say that excuse trumps all others.
... i came all this way.to be unwanted.
does it hurt more because i loved so much? or because of the wedding bands?i can't go back and change what was. and to work on what is now, seems to be fruitless to you. because you can't see past what i let you down with before.i don't want to give up. i don't want to go. i don't want to lose you. it's not just the "right now" feelings.it's the fact that i actually want to fight. i want to do more than just run. or let things run their course. i want to make the effort. and though you had longer to let these feelings simmer, while i was for some reason unawares... and you enjoy your solitude... and you don't want to put any trust in me.i will still fight.because the me that i am when i'm with you... is worth all the little lonely me's when i'm not.
tired. so. tired.3 years yesterday.and we spent it in different places without each other.raise your eyebrows if you want.sigh.
so i'm back in california... for the moment.just a little detour before i move to the east coast... which is also just a detour before i go home.i realize with all the strangeness in my life that i have a great selection of friends. willing to house me without rent. willing to deal with me for inordinate amounts of time. it's sweet really. though i believe the "without rent" has the unspoken caveat of "if you cook/bake for us"it's nice though. to have people i can ask.i hope they all know that if they ever need something...... they might as well ask someone else to help.just kidding! go on. ask me for help if you ever need it.if i'm around. i'll help.
we had last week off. drove up to scotland. took the cat. bad idea number one. about 45 minutes into the 6 hour drive my lap was the proud home to a steaming pile of cat puke. even more unlucky for me was that we were about 20 minutes away from the services exit. after getting to the services and finding a rubbish bin to unload the nasty, i shook out the hooded sweater i had sensibly placed on my lap in case of kitty pukeage.back on the road.another hour or two went past.an hour or two of happiness shattered in an instant. the first time was easier to deal with. it was more like moist cat food. the second was much more horrifying.so we stopped at another services. shoved the cat into her litter box. and positioned it so she couldn't escape. we figured the dark would be better because she could sleep. no. every time she heard me talk she let out a plaintive wail. for 3 more hours.when we got to scotland we took her in and locked her in the bathroom so we could get settled and so i could clean her off. you see, in the 3 hours she managed to be sick AND do major wet number 2's all over herself AND the hooded sweater which was in the litter box with her.so now, we're all settled. the cat has food which she gulps down frantically. makes sense since her tummy was quite certainly empty. oh, one thing we forgot to mention to the wendy kitten... this house we're staying at, has 2 small children and another kitty. oh the joys that will be the introductions.next day after some much needed sleep we all enjoyed the peaceful yowls and delicate growls of a supremely pissed off wendy.now, we had two days of relative happiness. then monday thru thursday we had to wake up at 7:45 to take the girls to school for 9. which involved much tears and bickering. and the girls weren't much better. in the evenings it was homework and dinner. oh and trying to get the girls to eat their veggies. which involved even more tears and bickering.then home thursday night. up early friday morning for the 2 hour drive down to london. the 20 minute line at the american embassy (which to be fair if i were not american would have been an hour or two line). then the whole passport thing. see, i lost my passport. which according to the records at the embassy is my second time at doing so. but really it's not. the first time i "lost" my passport it was simply in transit because the post office decided not to deliver it because my name wasn't on the mailbox as i had just moved into the apartment. now, normally i would sort of understand this, except i moved into an area where the names on the mailboxes changes every semester. i mean, i was living 10 minutes from harvard. duh postal people. just deliver the damn envelope. especially since they delivered mail for a dude who hadn't lived in the apartment for at least a year and his name wasn't on the mailbox either. ahem. i digress.so, passport. actually lost for real this time. forms filled out. payments made. oh thank goodness the american dollar is such crap right now. it only cost us 47 lbs instead of the 97 dollars. so forms done, paying done, waiting... getting scolded by the mousy embassy dude for my lost passport, agreeing to an oath from a nice american lady and having her commiserate about the not lost passport/postal fuck up. one hour later we're done. got lunch. drove home.did some shopping for the week to come. slept.saturday. up at 8:30 so we could leave in time to drive the 2 and half hours up to manchester. had lunch with the in laws. checked in to the hotel down the street. enough time to get changed and freshen up to walk "15 minutes" down the street to hubby's friend's parent's house. his definition of 15 minutes is really far off. i think it's the equivilent to his definition of "9 inches". so we head out to the friend's house only my cute shiny heeled shoes broke about 5 minutes from the hotel. so back to the hotel for the sneakers and then back out. at the friend's house it was all "hi" , "how are you", "your kid is super cute" , "let's go get sloshed". from there on it's a slight blur.not really. football game surrounded by happy boys who haven't all seen each other for a year at least. since the smoking ban footgames are much more enjoyable for me (no sneezing or smelling like an ashtray for the rest of the night). i even got a warm cake and custard dessert even though the kitchen was closed.then it was off to another pub to play pool... or really to watch the hubby kick ass at pool. it's amazing how even after dating for 2 years you are surprised at someone's talents. a few pints later it's dragging the hubby back to the hotel. we walked the whole way because we just couldn't be bothered to look for a taxi.the next morning we headed back to his mum's house for some fatty breakfast and chatter. and may i just say i love me some fatty breakfast. i think black pudding is my secret love. it's just so wrong and oh so right.then it was off to visit (or attempt to visit) some more family. we barged in on one auntie still in her pj's. finally at 2 in the afternoon we made our departure via the shopping center in manchester. i needed new clothes. probably from all my fatty breakfasts. clothes shopping done (don't ask how it went. i hate shopping. i hate people. it was my worst nightmare come to life.) we went off for a quick lunch. bumped into a couple who's wedding cake i made. chatted. left.home.then back to work the next morning.joy.so how has everyone else been?
cold butter. moisture condensing on the smooth yellow surface. a little block of sunshine. cut into irregular cubes. i drop the small lumps into a bowl of flour. silky and smooth. dry liquid. the dusty splash as the butter belly flops into the white sea. little clouds of wheat dissipate into the air. the minuscule grains flutter and land around the bowl. dusting the counter.i smile at the moment when my fingertips first plunge into the expanse of flour. my hands undulate like a sea monster under an unsuspecting ocean liner. searching. hunting. i strike and grab my prey. sliding and spreading my fingers over and into the chilled fat. mixing the flour into the butter. quickly. with purpose. soon the once smooth sea of flour is dappled with yellow. the texture is coarse yet uniform.a splash of icy water curdles the surface. uniformity is destroyed. clumpy and grainy. tossed about until a small amount of pressure is applied and a shape is formed. held. pressed and flattened. a disk of pure joy. once rolled out and shaped further. this humble lump is both modest and mesmerizing. a shell for more interesting ingredients. a costar. never the main player. yet, failure with simplicity and even the best filling becomes somehow, less. tender and strong. flaky and sincere. simple and complex. sweet or savory. hot or cold.i take comfort in pastry. i'm made from the same recipe.
lunch with the adorable ex-coworker. i flounced my way in to town. then i flounced my way to lunch with a dapper ol' man on my arm. though as he likes to describe himself he's "the leading man type in the beautifully tailored suit". so after much laughter and a big plate of linguine in the north end of town. my dapper pal and my flouncy skirt wandered back to the college crush. i turned my nose up at the dunkin' excuse for coffee. in place of the slow drip cuppa i knew would be in the "luxury apartment home". after a failed goodbye to my dear friend. we planned another day out. maybe to the circus. i hate saying goodbye. to this town. to my friends. to my family. to the history i've built here. to the history i've revisited here. i've a few days left in this town. i'm dragging my feet in leaving it.3 days. and yes dad. i know about the ash. but from all the reports i can see it looks good for the moment. and the moment is good enough for me. so i can only hope this moment lasts till next tuesday at the least.((hug))
i've been reading. nothing terribly interesting. well. sort of. relationship stuff. marital advice. trying to look into the minds of men. or at least the mind of one man really...i suppose a bit of back history is needed.i was raised by a woman. from a different culture. a culture where women are not really whole. not without a man. subservient. submissive. always in a way, ten steps behind. from a young age i was warned away from men. they aren't to be trusted. they only want one thing. and once they have it. they don't need you. you're dirty. you have to accept it. you just have to try to keep them happy. so they don't leave. but in the end. they will. they always do.and so. being raised this way. quietly. i've accepted this. i may have facilitated this. i am a woman. it's my fault. it's always my fault.but then. i'm american. i was raised by the women in film. always strong. stubborn. will minded. and strong willed. independent. bolstering my emotions with feminism. women's suffrage. bra burning. allowing myself to be man-minded. letting my libido lead the way. trying to be easy. easy going. pretending to be cold. pretending to be strong.it's all been at cross purposes.i'm of two minds. i always have been. push them away before they discard you. it's always been the way. i have a trail of broken relationships to prove it. i have the notches on my bedpost as evidence.but love them. if you don't. if you aren't loved. what are you? let them walk on you. just don't let them walk out the door.but you can't control them can you? you're only a woman. a girl really. crying in the corner. mascara running. heart bleeding. weak. and alone.you can't trust men. they'll always leave you. because they don't want to face their own fears. they haven't been brought up with emotion. they are born and raised to be men. to be strong. to lead. to dominate. to win. but never raised to embrace their own hearts. so how can you trust them with yours?they're taught to argue a point. to make a decision. to stick to it. to stand up for it. even if it's wrong. and we're taught to embrace them. to back them. to stand in the shadows. to hold their hand. to mix a martini. to be quiet and pretty. to agree. to lay still. to smile. to accept.even if they leave.and they do. don't they?so i'm left alone. for the time. unless something clicks. until some invisible switch is turned. until then. i'm alone. with the anger. and sadness. the sharp objects that sigh against my skin. the glass that shatters in the sink. the photos that burst into flame. and my quiet pulse that begs to be let free.but don't do it. don't hurt yourself. he says. even though the pain i cause. is never comparable to the pain he causes. my pain is only feminine. always ten steps behind.quiet. and shadowed.nothing to take notice of.until it's gone.
again.there are better things to be doing. more happy things to be doing. dancing. singing. laughing. reading a book. sitting happily. enjoying silence.instead. i sit here. not dancing. not singing. not laughing. not reading. not sitting happily. not enjoying the silence of this flat.this silent empty flat. where for three years we were happy. i was happy. i was complete. i was full. now. quiet. i don't speak. unless spoken to. and here. alone. there is not one person to ask me any questions.i spend my time. wasting it. reading articles. from other women. who have lost and regained. who have found a way to fix what was broken. i read how men need space. how we women should let them "miss" us. we shouldn't communicate. we should let them simmer. and steep. until, like a cold tea bag, they remember what it was like to be warm. to be loved. to love.i empty bottle after bottle. day after day. week after week. tear after tear.i told him... i told you. not to read me. so you couldn't see the pain. see the raw sadness. see the hopelessness settle around my shoulders. so you couldn't see my duality. the me that i let you see when you visit. the old me. the happy me. not the me now. the me that is broken. empty. halved by an exile imposed by governments and our own indecision. the me that is small and crying and wishing for you. wishing for you to come home. to come back. to make this strange place home again.all the articles. tell me not to say those words. tell me not to hope. not to wish. not to beg. not to cry. not to promise. not to speak.but they don't know me. they don't know you.they speak of other men. other men who left. who were somehow cajoled into returning. men who were manipulated in some way. men who were always more willing. more willing to go back. to love. to trust. to forgive.they don't know you.they don't know how stubborn you are. how hardheaded. how intensely you can feel. or how intensely you can chose not to feel. they don't know how you are able to forgo friends and family. how in fact, unlike the saying... you are an island. quite happy to be alone. to only worry for yourself. and how your actions can affect you. to not worry about inhabitants. people. creatures. risk. to not have any of these things. but i think you forget. even islands have worries. they can't control the weather. the tides. the ebb and flow. these destructive powers. in so many ways much stronger than the risk of loving and trusting one person.why do i say these things here? and not to you. direct. personally. secretively. in a way that keeps your face from going hot and red. in a secluded place where others can't see. can't read? i feel safe here. it's my little world. surprising is the fact that i am here. i should be curled in a ball. alone. in the dark. not speaking. not letting anyone in. spiraling into my despair. like i was. during those fateful seven months. i should be angry. but like i said. i can't.i don't have much left in me. i've given it all away. it's traveled. quietly. down south. tucked inside a wallet. placed in a pocket. in a coat. on your arms.and now i lay me down to sleep... i pray for someone, my soul to keep. if i should die. before you wake. i pray for someone... to notice.
bleh i say. to "feelings". to "emotions". to just being a neurotic girl.bleh.i want chocolate.or a ticket to the uk. either one will work.
there is no convincing. there is no further evidence.what we had. is what we had.what we could have is not part of your equation.if i go. you'll be left alone. if i stay. you chose to be alone.quiet is in order.so i shall be.for once.quiet.
i realize that i am a visitor in this strange place. i am marked as a foreigner as soon as i part my lips to speak. even before then. my gait and demeanor are just off of normal. yet, there are certain things that even i understand.i know that trash equals rubbish. i know the bin is really the trash can. so imagine my surprise when i saw a trash car. not a garbage truck. not a refuse removal van. no. a car. used like a bin.a literal trash car.the entire little two door was full to bursting with computer parts, wires, soda cans, bags, dirt, everything. it was really a trash can. er... trash car.i wish i had a picture. or better still a movie. so you could all enjoy the vision that is the man shoveling junk from the ground into this sad little car.i wonder how it works. does a larger garbage truck come by and scoop the little vehicle into it's crushing maw? or is it all wrapped up in a giant hefty sack?curious land i'm living in.
... don't let me go. don't convince yourself to be alone. don't let yourself unlove me.don't let me die.
dude.i could just curl up under my desk with a bottle of vodka. what's the worst that could happen?i mean. really? what are they gonna do?fire me?!oh man, this joke is only get old at 4:01pm today. when i make sure not to let the door hit me on the way out. mwahauahaaa!
finding a new video game that makes you happy.plus it keeps me quiet while my hunny is playing on his computerlator. which is a win win because i have a tendency to try and converse with him while he is playing his game.
a game which he apparently needs to "focus" on. so when i yammer, he kinda snaps at me.
which makes me sad.then i go "in a mood". then i sulk.then he goes into a mood.then i sulk more.then we go out to do chores... in moods.then we thaw out. and buy a video game for me.and then all is right in the world.not that the above would ever happen in real life.honest.
anyway. the game is called okami. every time we go to ye olde game shoppe i see this game box. it's got a pretty white wolf on the front. it's all animated in a style reminiscent of a japanese brush painting. in fact, your special skills to finish the game are done with a brush. it's pretty. i like it. and while there is some fighting involved it's not too gory or in depth.
so i'm happy.
he's happy.
we're happy.
oh, i also got another spyro game. wheee!
... i ought to put some nice clothes on to celebrate the last evening... or at the very least i ought to put some real pants on right?
so i realize i've been blue here. there are reasons. there are insecurities. there are things i just don't want to talk about. things that if i give too much attention to, will become hard and real, instead of simply being unspoken.i am fragile. i am one slight bump away from fracturing completely.and so. i will be silent.i will be mute.i don't want concerned emails. or worried looks. or any sort of attention.i just want to be quiet for a while.apologies in advance for my possible hiatus.and apologies late for the past couple of days where i have not been a shiny happy person.
first off, missy, vegemite is more an australian thing. marmite is british. secondly, moving blows. and not the good-salty-sea-air-in-your-face type of blow. more the bad-salty-donkey-balls-in-your-face type of blow. we had hoped to be out of this apartment and in our new one on saturday. but the van rental places were conspiring against our move.
dear sweet hubby booked a van with a company on friday, got the confirmation number, then on saturday was told that no, no we don't actually have that confirm number nor do we have any vans. okay. fine. there are loads of rental places in manchester. call... ring. ring. sorry, no vans till monday. okay, next one... ring... ring... yea, we had vans, but they have all been sent away to evacuate some people in the areas of flooding. sigh.
finally we find a place. take a 5 quid taxi ride. get there. ask for our van. and the dude at the counter says, sure, i just need a visa/debit card, oh but we're so behind the times that those are the only type of card we take, even though the rest of the uk accepts maestro, we can't, because we suck donkey balls, the really big sweaty kind.
then we get to walk for about 20 to 30 minutes back home (swinging by another rental place which has a van in the parking lot... but says they don't have any vans available). oh, did i mention that because we live in manchester, it's been raining. a lot.
so we get a small rental car. load as much into it as we can. drive down to warwick, in the rain, of course. pick up our keys to the new place. and finally get into our new apartment. that was all on saturday.
yesterday we drove back up to manchester and booked another van online for monday. then we just waited. hubby dearest unpacked the tv so we wouldn't be bored. i cleaned the house as much as possible. we had originally planned to take all our belongings down to warwick on saturday, then drive back up to manx so we could clean the place unhindered by boxes and the wendy kitten. alas. i was forced to clean around the fat kitty.
finally, we come to today. rain. big surprise there. but all the boxes have been relegated to the downstairs bathroom. all the bits and bobs have been packed away. the upstairs is now sparkling. the bedrooms are clean and hoovered. beds are made. everything is dusted. the only areas left for the deep clean are the hallway and bathroom which are both jam packed with boxes.
and now, as we speak my darling husband is off dropping off the wee little rental car, collecting the van, and redirecting our mail at the postoffice. when he comes back, the shuffle of boxes from the 6th floor down to ground level will commence.
so. dear inquisitive insider... our move is still going on. i'll let you know when it's over. although, once we are down in warwick, we won't have broadband for a few weeks. we'll have. gasp. dial up. it'll be like the dark ages. sigh.
wish us luck.
so i did a lot of running this weekend.running down the hill to the bus stop so as not to miss the hourly bus. running up the escalators to purchase my train tickets so as not to miss the two hourly train.running from the car to the platform to jump on a slow moving train as i nearly missed it due to a slow moving car in front of her as she drove me to the station.running from the subway to the bus stop only to realize the bus stopped running at that time.running to the subway to catch the next train.running from the train station to the street level bus stop in hopes of catching the next half hourly bus.it's been a lot of rushing.and in between the rushing there was much laughing, eating, baking, drinking, and celebrating.'twas a good weekend.
there are days when i open my eyes to the clean light filtering in past rented curtains. and i sigh in contented happiness. i stretch my limbs in feline grace. closing my eyes i wrap my hands around my heart. warming my fingers around the glossy shape as though sipping from a hot mug. i let the heat of ,my imagination circulate and ignite the nerves from my toes to my fingertips.here on this cloud of flannel and down. curled into a ball. i am the queen of my dreams. i grow wings in an instant. i sing magic. i see past the images of our daily selves. in this moment of mostly awake and near sleep. i control the things which i can not contain. i harness the fear and anxiety. that which would make me weep can only make me laugh.there are days when i open my eyes. only they never really open. i am in a never ending day dream.there is a soundtrack which follows me. the worms in the grass swim beneath my steps. the birds speak to the trees to announce my entrance. there is a stage of soft green growth and the daffodils show my mark. i have a script to read. it is ever changing. i get distracted and forget the lines i was never meant to say. i can not remember which play it is. which scene i am in. where i am.there are days when i open my eyes.and there are days when i see without them.
there are days when i never need them.i am blindly content.i am naive and happy.i am dreaming while awake.
