So, at 6:58am, a man I work with said -
"God, imagine being married to you... what a nightmare...."
Needless to say, I am in a super mood.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
4 Sleeps
4 more sleeps til I board a plane.
well, 4 more attempts at sleep.
3 more early mornings.
well, 3 kinda early mornings after I snooze for an extra half hour.
3 more days of work.
well, 3 more days of turning up.
2 more gym visits.
resulting in 2 more days I cannot walk properly.
1 more singing lesson.
well, half a lesson and half a councilling session.
1 more machine load of washing to clean the clothes I intend on packing.
Countless moments of anxiety, heartache, fear, depression, excitement and hope.
This rollercoaster is taking its toll.
well, 4 more attempts at sleep.
3 more early mornings.
well, 3 kinda early mornings after I snooze for an extra half hour.
3 more days of work.
well, 3 more days of turning up.
2 more gym visits.
resulting in 2 more days I cannot walk properly.
1 more singing lesson.
well, half a lesson and half a councilling session.
1 more machine load of washing to clean the clothes I intend on packing.
Countless moments of anxiety, heartache, fear, depression, excitement and hope.
This rollercoaster is taking its toll.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Its a Small, Small World
Over the past few years a pattern has been forming.
If you are important to me, chances are you live in another state or country. Of course this does not include my parents, who, lucky for me, live a nice 30min drive away. And of course this does not include all my loved friends in Sydney who I would be absolutely lost without. Or my brother, who, pending notice, can share a beer and a laugh only an hour away.
OK, let me rephrase this whole idea - if you are my sister, my old flatmates, my Irish friends, my Scottish friends, my English friends, my friends living in the States or the man I get drunk and call late at night whinging about how much I miss you (you know who you are - I hope!), then you are living in another state or country.
I am not necessarily the best at writing letters or phone calls, but where once there would have been a feeling that I had lost these incredibly important people in my life to distance and borders there is now a constant feeling of hope and excitement. I have every confidence with every farewell that I will see these people again. And its nice. A continuing countdown towards the next meeting.
This has all been highlighted again with recent trips to Adelaide and Melbourne, visits from folk from Edinburgh and Dublin and my having only 11 sleeps til I board a plane and head to the Northern Hemisphere.
Life is not too bad. Not to bad at all.
Now if I can just get better at regular phone calls .... or at least a better Internet connection for Skype.
If you are important to me, chances are you live in another state or country. Of course this does not include my parents, who, lucky for me, live a nice 30min drive away. And of course this does not include all my loved friends in Sydney who I would be absolutely lost without. Or my brother, who, pending notice, can share a beer and a laugh only an hour away.
OK, let me rephrase this whole idea - if you are my sister, my old flatmates, my Irish friends, my Scottish friends, my English friends, my friends living in the States or the man I get drunk and call late at night whinging about how much I miss you (you know who you are - I hope!), then you are living in another state or country.
I am not necessarily the best at writing letters or phone calls, but where once there would have been a feeling that I had lost these incredibly important people in my life to distance and borders there is now a constant feeling of hope and excitement. I have every confidence with every farewell that I will see these people again. And its nice. A continuing countdown towards the next meeting.
This has all been highlighted again with recent trips to Adelaide and Melbourne, visits from folk from Edinburgh and Dublin and my having only 11 sleeps til I board a plane and head to the Northern Hemisphere.
Life is not too bad. Not to bad at all.
Now if I can just get better at regular phone calls .... or at least a better Internet connection for Skype.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Reasons to wear glasses
1. To see.
eg. Imagine you are at an International Airport Arrivals Hall, and you might see someone you think is your friend. The friend you are there to meet. You smile. You wave. You wave again. You yell out. You are not wearing your glasses. This person is NOT your friend. You have drawn attention to yourself. You are now turning red as the person you thought was your friend is walking towards you. She smiles as she walks past as if to say "You thought I was your friend didn't you, but I am not. Ha! Ha Ha Ha!"
2. Refer to 1.
eg. Imagine you are at an International Airport Arrivals Hall, and you might see someone you think is your friend. The friend you are there to meet. You smile. You wave. You wave again. You yell out. You are not wearing your glasses. This person is NOT your friend. You have drawn attention to yourself. You are now turning red as the person you thought was your friend is walking towards you. She smiles as she walks past as if to say "You thought I was your friend didn't you, but I am not. Ha! Ha Ha Ha!"
2. Refer to 1.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Monday, August 04, 2008
My Salad Days - where did they go?
There was a time, many, many years ago (30th October 2000 to be precise) when I could happily fall down two flights of stairs in an Edinburgh bar and break my ribs on the second weekend of a two month holiday and not blink an eye.
In fact, history would show that the very next night I would slip on the cobbled Royal Mile pretending to be an Olympic Gymnast (this was 2000 after all) and land uncomfortably on my back. Did it stop me from six more weeks of crazy fun? No freakin way dude.
Funny now, eight years later, I should be doubled over and hobbling after, wait for it, not falling down flights of stairs, but, and this is pathetic I know, dancing. Yes, I have jarred my back or at the very least pinched a nerve, dancing. Sure it was rock opera style and I was doing a scissor kick (well, my version of a scissor kick) across the Enmore Theatre stage at the time, but really? Dancing? Come on!!!
I have previously held the title of "Miss Skullarama 1996 - 98" and now, three glasses of Bubbles and I wake up with a headache. I never used to get sick. Like ever. Then, bang, this year I have chest pains, back pains, suspicious lumps and pink eye. What the? And these things are less and less glamorous every dose. The lump was diagnosed as a fat deposit (relieving that its not serious but hardly one for the self esteem files) and the pink eye, well, its only slightly less embarrassing than saying conjunctivitis. Thank goodness I got to see the sexy Doctor to be diagnosed with that one.
Against my better judgement (and youthful appearance) I am getting old. This is completely unfair as my hair has never looked better and I have only just started to enjoy not having to run everything past my parents. (Hey Dad, you know your tax return? Well could you do mine while you're at it?)
Still, there are advantages. 40th birthday parties are fun to plan. Especially when they involve your Irish best friend, an international destination and three years to save for it.
And I do still hold on to some of my youth - there are two and a half weeks until I hit the Northern Hemisphere and rock out at the Electric Picnic. Brilliant. Gosh how I love a countdown.
In fact, history would show that the very next night I would slip on the cobbled Royal Mile pretending to be an Olympic Gymnast (this was 2000 after all) and land uncomfortably on my back. Did it stop me from six more weeks of crazy fun? No freakin way dude.
Funny now, eight years later, I should be doubled over and hobbling after, wait for it, not falling down flights of stairs, but, and this is pathetic I know, dancing. Yes, I have jarred my back or at the very least pinched a nerve, dancing. Sure it was rock opera style and I was doing a scissor kick (well, my version of a scissor kick) across the Enmore Theatre stage at the time, but really? Dancing? Come on!!!
I have previously held the title of "Miss Skullarama 1996 - 98" and now, three glasses of Bubbles and I wake up with a headache. I never used to get sick. Like ever. Then, bang, this year I have chest pains, back pains, suspicious lumps and pink eye. What the? And these things are less and less glamorous every dose. The lump was diagnosed as a fat deposit (relieving that its not serious but hardly one for the self esteem files) and the pink eye, well, its only slightly less embarrassing than saying conjunctivitis. Thank goodness I got to see the sexy Doctor to be diagnosed with that one.
Against my better judgement (and youthful appearance) I am getting old. This is completely unfair as my hair has never looked better and I have only just started to enjoy not having to run everything past my parents. (Hey Dad, you know your tax return? Well could you do mine while you're at it?)
Still, there are advantages. 40th birthday parties are fun to plan. Especially when they involve your Irish best friend, an international destination and three years to save for it.
And I do still hold on to some of my youth - there are two and a half weeks until I hit the Northern Hemisphere and rock out at the Electric Picnic. Brilliant. Gosh how I love a countdown.
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