it concerns me i have managed to lose my life. somewhere under couch cushions or perhaps down one of those weirdly long and useless pockets in the back of my handbag.
i just went to reach for it without even looking, like you'd grab a cookie while glued to an E!True Hollywood Story, and it was gone. lost. MIA.
what has prompted this sudden awareness? the oscars happened and i didn't even notice.
let me repeat: I (as in me, the closet celebrity gossip whore) forgot (as in didn't just miss them because we are a 8 hours ahead of LA, but actually didn't realize they were happening) the Oscars (a holiday on several of my past calendars).
Although a bad week or lack of wearwithall for a season is fine, I couldn't even name the nominees for Best Picture. I can assure you they were half deserved and the winner blew pretentious schlock out it's ears, but still.
I am grossly uninformed, sadly lacking sparkly denouncements and without my witty dressing down of red carpet fashion. what small talk am I going to make for the next month? More importantly, if I missed the Oscars, I probably have no pressing social engagements in which to deconstruct them because I HAVE LOST MY SANITY.
That said, I was whisked away for a quaint cottage weekend of rose gardens and castles as a brithday treat instead, so maybe it's okay. It was glorious.
...Oh my god. I am replacing my life with romantic rendez-vous and mini-break weekends! I don't know whether to feel glamourous and fab or one of those completely insane couple-blinded freaks.
27 February 2007
20 February 2007
a sigh on the breeze
today i am 25 fo the first time. one of the great 'beginning of the ends' is noticing your age before it fades into the near past.
and to be honest, nothing much has changed. it's the same life, the same me. but i like to use these obligatory and slightly irrelevent markers to take breath and really notice.
my birthday began with a hazy morning. slowly waking up to an odd, unfamiliar flickering light and distant soft sounds. as i adjusted to consciousness, i found it was the glow of 25 candles and the humming of happy birthday in my ear.
chocolate cake for breakfast is not to be scoffed at, but an antique typewriter is one of those rare gifts you never knew you coveted badly.
it was one of those simple moments, one of those mornings to remember.
i feel old often. the aching joints, the odd turn of phrase.
but regularly i feel infantile. too young for this. overwhelmed and slightly ecstactic. like wearing your grandmothers high heels for the first time.
it's an odd mix, this adult but not grown-up. and the newness constantly surprises me.
but i am optomistic. i always thought 32 and 36 would be my years (i don't know when or how i chose this, it's just a thing i have always known), but 25 is starting out on a high, if unexpected, note.
like those tones in indian music halfway between two keys. not any part of the western scales but somehow not outside the nodal truths my ears recognize. a limbo, but a calm, somehow sweet one. like a hibernation den for the soul. hiding in the margins of here and now.
i'm spouting shit now, i can't deny it. i so often am without the words.
but i am content.
...and maybe slightly tipsy.
and to be honest, nothing much has changed. it's the same life, the same me. but i like to use these obligatory and slightly irrelevent markers to take breath and really notice.
my birthday began with a hazy morning. slowly waking up to an odd, unfamiliar flickering light and distant soft sounds. as i adjusted to consciousness, i found it was the glow of 25 candles and the humming of happy birthday in my ear.
chocolate cake for breakfast is not to be scoffed at, but an antique typewriter is one of those rare gifts you never knew you coveted badly.
it was one of those simple moments, one of those mornings to remember.
i feel old often. the aching joints, the odd turn of phrase.
but regularly i feel infantile. too young for this. overwhelmed and slightly ecstactic. like wearing your grandmothers high heels for the first time.
it's an odd mix, this adult but not grown-up. and the newness constantly surprises me.
but i am optomistic. i always thought 32 and 36 would be my years (i don't know when or how i chose this, it's just a thing i have always known), but 25 is starting out on a high, if unexpected, note.
like those tones in indian music halfway between two keys. not any part of the western scales but somehow not outside the nodal truths my ears recognize. a limbo, but a calm, somehow sweet one. like a hibernation den for the soul. hiding in the margins of here and now.
i'm spouting shit now, i can't deny it. i so often am without the words.
but i am content.
...and maybe slightly tipsy.
17 February 2007
looking back, moving on
last weekend something possessed me to label all my old entries into a series of vague usually useless categories no one else will ever use.
i think my OCD tendencies played no small part (my co-workers have begun to notice i clean my desk every night before i leave and systematically tap the desktop while composing important emails). but more than that, i was in the mood for a little retrospective.
suddenly i catch myself so completely enraptured this life. a life that i never imagined or could possibly have thought was mine not so very long ago. little moments where he tucks me into bed as he gets up so no drafts get in. or as i quickly sign off on my taxi account in the back of a cab, late for a board meeting. or when i tell him i love him and know that i mean it. fleeting moments of some other pretend life. like scenes from a movie or more appropriately, some other twenty-something with a job and a partner and none of the things i ever really considered to be part of my reality.
from the outside it seems so unlike me, so impossible to be here, that when i suddenly see it, the shock is overwhelming. and it never completely disappears. or it hasn't yet anyway. i do realize 5 months isn't really a forever by any means. frankly i have my doubts about me and forever too. but i guess that's part of my point. when i am suddenly jerked out of this misty haze of contentment and day-to-day and see myself from a distance being comfortable with a hand on mine and giving presentations without my tell-tale right knee quiver, I see someone else and wonder how I got here. How i can still feel and be me and yet have grown into something I never could have dreamed for myself.
i guess it's that i've so quickly become accustomed to a life wholly unconnected with what came before in so many ways. that i already take it for granted when only six months ago i was the same, but everything else was different. and that necessitates admitting i have no idea where the next six months will lead.
so, in this oddly worrisome and yet entirely unburdened mood, i wanted to look back on how i got here. as if seeing my moody scratches would give me a retrospective map of my path to her and now. to shed some light on what has become an utterly unbelievable journey.
suffice to say, i didn't tell me anything i didn't already know. i did grimace and wonder at the things i used to say and feel about him and me. i am still uncomfortable with our awkward past i guess, but better at now and trying to undo the things i did then. it's a miracle we happened the way we did i think, but somehow i am not surprised i did that backwards too.
and it's easy to see how desperately unhappy i was at my old job, as it slowly ate into me and my tone. and worrisome how the content changed from friends and escpapdes to a chornology of coupledom and ranting. and a relief to see the trickling away of wild desperate adventures just screaming out. clutching at need. and doubt.
i don't have any reason to be writing this. you don't care gentle reader. frankly, whether you read them or not, it's all still the rubbish in my head at the end of the day.
i guess suddenly the newness of it all struck me this morning. timely, what with my first valentines just past and our birthdays both next week. i'm marking time, noting change and assessing. like always, i overanalyze. the content may change, but the system stays in tact.
i think my OCD tendencies played no small part (my co-workers have begun to notice i clean my desk every night before i leave and systematically tap the desktop while composing important emails). but more than that, i was in the mood for a little retrospective.
suddenly i catch myself so completely enraptured this life. a life that i never imagined or could possibly have thought was mine not so very long ago. little moments where he tucks me into bed as he gets up so no drafts get in. or as i quickly sign off on my taxi account in the back of a cab, late for a board meeting. or when i tell him i love him and know that i mean it. fleeting moments of some other pretend life. like scenes from a movie or more appropriately, some other twenty-something with a job and a partner and none of the things i ever really considered to be part of my reality.
from the outside it seems so unlike me, so impossible to be here, that when i suddenly see it, the shock is overwhelming. and it never completely disappears. or it hasn't yet anyway. i do realize 5 months isn't really a forever by any means. frankly i have my doubts about me and forever too. but i guess that's part of my point. when i am suddenly jerked out of this misty haze of contentment and day-to-day and see myself from a distance being comfortable with a hand on mine and giving presentations without my tell-tale right knee quiver, I see someone else and wonder how I got here. How i can still feel and be me and yet have grown into something I never could have dreamed for myself.
i guess it's that i've so quickly become accustomed to a life wholly unconnected with what came before in so many ways. that i already take it for granted when only six months ago i was the same, but everything else was different. and that necessitates admitting i have no idea where the next six months will lead.
so, in this oddly worrisome and yet entirely unburdened mood, i wanted to look back on how i got here. as if seeing my moody scratches would give me a retrospective map of my path to her and now. to shed some light on what has become an utterly unbelievable journey.
suffice to say, i didn't tell me anything i didn't already know. i did grimace and wonder at the things i used to say and feel about him and me. i am still uncomfortable with our awkward past i guess, but better at now and trying to undo the things i did then. it's a miracle we happened the way we did i think, but somehow i am not surprised i did that backwards too.
and it's easy to see how desperately unhappy i was at my old job, as it slowly ate into me and my tone. and worrisome how the content changed from friends and escpapdes to a chornology of coupledom and ranting. and a relief to see the trickling away of wild desperate adventures just screaming out. clutching at need. and doubt.
i don't have any reason to be writing this. you don't care gentle reader. frankly, whether you read them or not, it's all still the rubbish in my head at the end of the day.
i guess suddenly the newness of it all struck me this morning. timely, what with my first valentines just past and our birthdays both next week. i'm marking time, noting change and assessing. like always, i overanalyze. the content may change, but the system stays in tact.
15 February 2007
Middlesex
" persist in believing that these black marks on white paper bear the greatest significance, that if i keep writing I might be able to catch the rainbow of consciousness in a jar."
11 February 2007
today seems like a day of trivialities.
of french pastry and mangoes in bed.
of languishing naps in the afternoon.
of kissed scars and bruised secrets.
and perhaps the silliest thing of all, i got a friendster update in my inbox. the kind you get every two seconds and promptly delete. i think i was last properly on friendster somewhere in 2005 , but it was my cousins birthday and i thought i'd drop him a line.
and while i was in , i did something daft. i changed my profile to state "in a relationship". a pointless excersize, possibly even a curse, now a ticking timebomb over this little love affair of mine. but somehow i wanted to see it in print for a minute. to claim him. to declare us. it's nothing really. a pointless act. a silly impulse. frankly i might just go change it back because it makes me uncomfortable, us being out there in that stupid slightly sad context.
uncomfortable. perhaps just a gesture of proper acceptence i've avoided. friday night we were out with a mutal friend and it was weird. that is to say, i was weird. it's still not right; being out in the world and being the us we have cultivated at home. like i don't fit in my skin. feeling watched and judged. and somehow finding the space for the rest of the world in my vision means i lose focus of him and we fall apart. or i walk away, i'm not sure there's a difference.
it's strange it only happens out with friends. sometimes i think we could have sex in front of strangers and i'd be unphased (rest assured, the v is not wholly dead). but somehow people knowing us before means i have trouble being us now. of marking the change. of performing this role for them. for me. for us. that somehow it's none of their buiness. it shouldn't affect my other relationships. it's so apart from the rest of life.
like i am proving there is still a me outside of this. but who am i proving it to?
it's cruel a little i think, being so seperate out there. like i'm hiding. like it isn't a big deal. like it can wait. mostly that i feel so awkward and distance myself for refuge. like i can turn us off. as if being with him is so segregated from my normal life i am incapable of doing both. it's something we still fight about. this otherness of ours. my lack of concern for us when others are about.
and perhaps today i am just deciding, in a virtual tickbox fashion, i want to be there. to be comfortable enough with me and him to exist together. here and now, no matter what the context.
like i say, a trivial thing.
of french pastry and mangoes in bed.
of languishing naps in the afternoon.
of kissed scars and bruised secrets.
and perhaps the silliest thing of all, i got a friendster update in my inbox. the kind you get every two seconds and promptly delete. i think i was last properly on friendster somewhere in 2005 , but it was my cousins birthday and i thought i'd drop him a line.
and while i was in , i did something daft. i changed my profile to state "in a relationship". a pointless excersize, possibly even a curse, now a ticking timebomb over this little love affair of mine. but somehow i wanted to see it in print for a minute. to claim him. to declare us. it's nothing really. a pointless act. a silly impulse. frankly i might just go change it back because it makes me uncomfortable, us being out there in that stupid slightly sad context.
uncomfortable. perhaps just a gesture of proper acceptence i've avoided. friday night we were out with a mutal friend and it was weird. that is to say, i was weird. it's still not right; being out in the world and being the us we have cultivated at home. like i don't fit in my skin. feeling watched and judged. and somehow finding the space for the rest of the world in my vision means i lose focus of him and we fall apart. or i walk away, i'm not sure there's a difference.
it's strange it only happens out with friends. sometimes i think we could have sex in front of strangers and i'd be unphased (rest assured, the v is not wholly dead). but somehow people knowing us before means i have trouble being us now. of marking the change. of performing this role for them. for me. for us. that somehow it's none of their buiness. it shouldn't affect my other relationships. it's so apart from the rest of life.
like i am proving there is still a me outside of this. but who am i proving it to?
it's cruel a little i think, being so seperate out there. like i'm hiding. like it isn't a big deal. like it can wait. mostly that i feel so awkward and distance myself for refuge. like i can turn us off. as if being with him is so segregated from my normal life i am incapable of doing both. it's something we still fight about. this otherness of ours. my lack of concern for us when others are about.
and perhaps today i am just deciding, in a virtual tickbox fashion, i want to be there. to be comfortable enough with me and him to exist together. here and now, no matter what the context.
like i say, a trivial thing.
07 February 2007
someday
I'm getting pretty crap at this.
The oh so glamourous career move has (temporarily?) put a damper on my social life, my sleep patterns and my ability to while away entire evenings on the internet.
Mostly all I live and breathe is logistical nightmares and trying to get my head around the burocracy of arts funding in the public sector. It's a completely other planet.
But all that aside, it's starting to be those crisp clear winter days that make me happy to look out the window, but loathe to leave him in bed. One of these mornings when he begs me to stay I just will, damn the consequences. Oh how I miss the casual schedules of student life. Carpe Diem feels a world away lately.
I just keep holding my breath for the day we can hop in the car, drive to our cottage, and unplug the phone for a whole week. A holiday in the country seems idyllic; all long walks and cozy nights and bright stars. Cable knit sweaters and babbling brooks. Homemade soup and log fires. It's like an 80s Lands End catalogue, except the whole dirty sex part.
(Of course I want to stay in an ancient cathedral turned flat in the wilderness because that's fabulous and weird (and has a gothicy wrought iron bed), but his Catholic sensibilities make it difficult to do what I plan to, there of all places. le sigh. But perhaps the private island scenario will work out after all. There no one will hear me scream.)
But today it just feels forever away.
More than 2 months. More than 300 miles. More than a list of print deadlines and proof reports.
More like a lifetime.
The oh so glamourous career move has (temporarily?) put a damper on my social life, my sleep patterns and my ability to while away entire evenings on the internet.
Mostly all I live and breathe is logistical nightmares and trying to get my head around the burocracy of arts funding in the public sector. It's a completely other planet.
But all that aside, it's starting to be those crisp clear winter days that make me happy to look out the window, but loathe to leave him in bed. One of these mornings when he begs me to stay I just will, damn the consequences. Oh how I miss the casual schedules of student life. Carpe Diem feels a world away lately.
I just keep holding my breath for the day we can hop in the car, drive to our cottage, and unplug the phone for a whole week. A holiday in the country seems idyllic; all long walks and cozy nights and bright stars. Cable knit sweaters and babbling brooks. Homemade soup and log fires. It's like an 80s Lands End catalogue, except the whole dirty sex part.
(Of course I want to stay in an ancient cathedral turned flat in the wilderness because that's fabulous and weird (and has a gothicy wrought iron bed), but his Catholic sensibilities make it difficult to do what I plan to, there of all places. le sigh. But perhaps the private island scenario will work out after all. There no one will hear me scream.)
But today it just feels forever away.
More than 2 months. More than 300 miles. More than a list of print deadlines and proof reports.
More like a lifetime.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)