October 2005 Archives

Right, so here goes. I've got to balance the bad things in life with the good. My need to wallow in stasis with my need to just carry on with life.
I'm in a bit of a better place than I was a week ago, obviously. I don't have to numb myself chemically to feel okay, which is a plus.

Small things that have been invaluable:
- sweet sentiments from friends
- Laurika's enormous plush Eeyore, which she lent to me before she went to Scotland
- hugs from flatmates, tea from flatmates, flatmates' well-bent ears
- all manner of chocolate, all manner of wine
- new winter jumpers, which, when worn, are like day-long woollen hugs
- and my sweet new nano, bought last week, which brings me much joy

It always helps to think that there are people in other places who are far worse off, too.

So while things aren't, and will never be, the same, and while it might be too soon to say 'I'm fine' convincingly, the limbo in-between is proving doable, and doable I can do.

So here's something - everything that I thought was concrete is now gone. Ian and I are no more.

This blog is about me, it is the most vain and fun and self-satisfying thing I have ever done. I don't have the whole 'I heart Mozilla' writing thing to fall back on when I'm going through crises. My life creeps into this page every time I write.
As such I've decided to take a hiatus from exposing my life on this blog. Because I don't really want to air the stuff between Ian and I, you don't want to read Dashboard lyrics every time you come here, and I don't really want to let my bleeding heart rest open to scrutiny.

There's so much running through my mind and I want to get it all out of me, and I'm scared I'm going to reveal more than I mean to. I love you reader, for the fact that you are my reader, but I know there are aspects to your lives and your loves that you will never release on a blog.

Wa and Ca, don't lose faith in what you're doing because of me, of us. I am so proud of you both for taking enormous steps in your relationship. Stay strong.

So it may last a week, or longer, but right now I need to lick my wounds and heal in a corner somewhere.

Some smart biscuit has created Flickr Sudoku. Such combining of two things I love makes me very very happy.

Mental note: If I am to do this walking from Waterloo to work in the mornings thing even when the Northern Line is fully functional, some sort of hairbrush is going to have to be awaiting me at work.

Walking across the foot bridge this morning, I saw so many variants on the ‘young professional’ – women in smart black suits and trainers, with their shoes under their work desks or in their handbags; women in jeans (clearly graphic design or publishing types) and heels; men in pink shirts and black ties, blue shirts and blue ties, white shirts and pink ties; professionals who are somewhat less ‘young’; trendy skinny girls; everyone with that bleary-eyed Monday rat race look. I think I probably belong in the ‘overly long scarf’ brigade.

Good weekend, much fun dancing to hip-hop and side-stepping pilled-up youngsters at Fabric for Damien’s birthday, and good times around a fire at our flatwarming. Of course there was much name-throwing, with two of my flatmates catching napovers and me dealing with Ian’s absence by drinking loads and loads of beer.

This transitional phase for him is taking its toll, on both of us. I watched the last race of the season alone yesterday, without my Tome of Knowledge on All Things F1 sitting next to me. Great race, but no one shared my enthusiasm, and all exclamations of ‘they won the constructors too, awes’ and ‘look at Flav!’ were met with curious pitying looks.

Broadband is meant to be initialised today, so hopefully I may have a new header for your ass sometime this week.

So I've got this plan for next year... I want to read all the Booker shortlist nominees. As the time between the shortlist being announced and the winner being chosen is not nearly time enough for reading 6 or 7 novels, I'm going to start off as soon as the long list is announced. Wondering how I'll try to pick the shortlisters, but that'll be worked out sometime in 2006.

This was a bumper year for the Booker, which bleaks me out. There's no way next year will be as full of talent - when you've got Salman Rushdie (he of the fatwa), Ian McEwan (he of the stories of incest) and Kazuo Ishiguro (he of the poignant immigrant point-of-view) in one year, the next is bound to be crappy.

This year's winner has been slated quite badly as only having won as a result of a muddle - too many phenomenal entries, so a weak one wins, type affair. Although I'm all for the type of story, centred on personal grief and full of pleasant prose and emotional introspection what what what... I do feel that this was probably covered in Ishiguro's entry just as well (although I have yet to read Banville, and I doubt I actually will after this article).

To be honest I'm still leaning towards McEwan (am desperate to get a nice hardback copy of Saturday) and I have a little soft spot for Ishiguro. If you ever want to read something touching, Remains of the Day is the one.

So as soon as I'm done with the puffiness of yet another Dan Brown (the last one, thank the lord) I'm on to something meatier, and I think I may start with the punter's choice for the Booker this year, Barnes' Arthur & George. The fact that the final Booker choice came down to Banville and Ishiguro will have to be consolation for this year, I'm afraid. And the fact that Remains stole it in 1989 over another of Banville's novels will help too.

Right, back to more blather about pigtails and skirts.

Every morning when I wake up I have to have something that motivates me to get out of bed. Some days it’s as lame as ‘I have mobility in my legs’ (generally in the late healing stages of an ankle twist), some days I can lie there for half an hour trying to generate some level of excitement over ‘I have a major magazine deadline’ or ‘I’m having avo on toast for brekkers’.

So yesterday it was, ‘new skirt’. Seeing as no response was received from my colleagues (although one of my girl flatmates complimented the tights) it was a bit of a bust.
If you’ve recently been shopping it can be a bit of a waiting game too – you cannot have two things to be excited about in one day, because if you don’t have anything at hand to excite you up and dressed on the next day, there’s some self-anger to take care of.
But today is a double day – 'new top', and 'new hair'. Lau and I got up 10 minutes earlier this morning to do French plait pigtails in my hair. And lo and behold, I have had comments from: company receptionist; colleague in elevator; two colleagues in office area.

While it is rather sad to think that one should be motivated by receiving compliments, a little noticing goes down rather well with me.

Now when I can’t think of anything tomorrow morning I’m going to be annoyed though…

It’s about that time again folks – meta-blog time.

Any time these days that I write a blog post, I can never ever commit 100% of my attention to it. Without broadband at home I’m left blogging in my lunch hour, or at very quiet times, or on someone else’s laptop on someone else’s wireless. This does not make for compelling reading.

The *unknown car manufacturer* induction day was fun. I got to go in three of the cars (I was too chicken to drive after 7 months of not having a car) with a guy from a dealership who was very gas-happy:

"WHOO-HOO! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PETROL WE JUST USED UP? ALLRIGHT! IT’S OKAY – WE’RE NOT PAYING." vrooooOOOM….

Picture me, neck clenched back against the headrest in the convertible, rueing my lack of hairband.
I was loving the coolish-warmish air of this time of year and getting to see the leaves turn – being outside of London does have its leafy advantages. It’s always good to know that Autumn doesn’t just herald a new round of fashion mags – it’s also an actual season, with weather repercussions and stuff.

When you wear a new skirt and some very old-school crochet tights to work and don’t get any compliments, is it because your legs don’t have the power they used to? I’m putting it down to my favourite fashionista co-worker being off sick. And also maybe that 23-year-old legs are a little less appealing that 22-year-old ones.

Oh, and there is the little matter of my flat-warming happening this Saturday. The theme is ‘We Live in a Council Estate But Pay Very Little Rent’ or, more succinctly, 'Roughing It'. Bring your pepper spray, should you be on the same continent, as usual.

It is now offically time to get over this slump. I'm not sick anymore, I can drink again! I'm going out on the piss tonight. I get to see Ian again tonight, and for the whole weekend. And I went and saw Serenity last night.

I'm sure that Ade and Dan will have suitably insightful reviews of the film, so I'll just say that I really enjoyed it, and that it's definitely a big screen film.

So back to the man. I am so so so excited to see Ian again tonight, so craving an arm around my waist right now! Just looking forward to the quality conversation and laughing with the man.

Have a cracker of a weekend. I plan to!

So we await our broadband and our geyser to be fixed and our furniture order delivery and and and... moving into a new place is a bit of a waiting game. It is rather nice to come home and have our unemployed digsmate playing James Blunt in the kitchen while he cooks a quiche from scratch (from scratch people!!!). I'm also enjoying the little bit of community feel we have... the laughter at silly things, the offers to make tea. I'm sure we'll all be so sick of each other come Christmas, but for now, we hang out and enjoy it. The flat-warming has been postponed another week.

I've picked up a bit of cross stitch again, just doing a Winnie-the-Pooh bookmark, a small little satisfying thing. It reminds me of my mom and her lovely night-before birthday cards, and the cross-stitch sampler I made for Beryl for her birthday. I never saw that get put up, even after spending months on it and framing it, becuase when she received it she was bed-ridden and cancer-riddled, and she died less than a month later.

Wow, I'm really on a bit of a sad kick lately. Must break out of self-pitying slump.

So the major news is that future in the UK has come into question with regard to my current job. I don't really want to go into it right now, it's a bit upsetting and worrying and scary, and I have gone a bit teary when talking about it to others. It's really made me think about home and how things would be were I to return to SA for good. Other factors aside (Ian being in the UK, no jobs really) it would be amazing to be a car trip away from my mom again.

So one of the car companies whose magazine is produced through my company have invited me for an induction day at their HQ, where I get to drive some of their new models and eat finger foodie thingys and learn about their company. Should be good - I get to drive again!

Otherwise, blah. Am planning on my first post-illness piss-up this weekend. Should you be less than a plane ticket away, do join.