Sark-y Comment

and also, I'd soliloqize about some idiot burning down the Cutty Sark, but I probably know more about the Edmund Fitzgerald (admit it, the song is totally in your head now too) than the fast clipper ever sailed.

besides, who names their ship 'little shirt'? in scots no less. my country of residence shames me.

may I just admit before you all I was heretofore unaware of the Golden Age of Bulgarian Culture.

I will argue until the end of time Sunday afternoons in bed con laptop are essential to my mental edification and sense of wellbeing.

it's the calm before the storm.

this week is insanely busy. then next week it's june. mother fucking press conferences and london speeches june. and then it's go time, with just under a month to see to every minutae of the summer's madness. like hiring my staff and making sure there are enough marker pens for the kiddies at the peter rabbit birthday party.

and august will be an utter and total blur. on site by 8 to give the staff a briefing, authors arrive at 9, gates open 9:30, first show at 10, last show at 7 sometimes 8. in between manage the interviews and photo calls and books, ignings and madness and try not to nip into the bar too often. then prepare for the next day, clear up the madness, and head home (if not required to make an appearance at a sponsors do, publishers dinner or reception for the politician of the day) do it all over again. 7 days a week, all month.

and of course, three days after i close the gates, we're moving. i am moving in with my boyfriend. not a gesture to really be tacked on at the end like that if i had my d'ruthers. and by then it's midseptember.

oh, and did i mention his mom and anika and her beau are coming to visit for the first time in august too? ace.

i seriously will have no life for the next 4 months. but then, when it's private bashes at the british library then catching the sleeper train home and dinners at restaurants you have to book a year ahead for, no life is better than some lives.

i just wish there was more time for me.

my sister is better than you.

I'd just like to state for the record, the Entertainment Weekly Must List (a top ten of things you must do/see/own for the week) recently placed my sister's dvd at number 5.

Better than Tyra Banks and just shy of Casino Royale.

In the top half of things all of hollywood wannabes and pop culture savvy peoples should know about is her work.

She is so better than you.

impersonating the insane

Today I thought the perfect sunday afternoon would be a stroll to the stationers to splurge some lovely paper. you know me and my addiction to crisp stationary, and using my fancy fountain pen set doesn't have the same effect on notebook paper that still has the sprial-fringy bits attached. But sadly, I wandered down to bruntsfield only to find both the little shops I adore closed on sundays. alas alas.

So on my meander home in the sunshine, I was surpised to find a new custom stationary place right near my house - and it was full of people. The woman inside the door smiled and I thought this was serendipitous indeed.

As I walked in the door, there was harpist in the corner and champagne on offer. Total score, I thought, this must be an opening gala of some sort. The nice welcome-girl handed me a bag of goodies and I was all smiles. "help yourself to the magazines, and there are some other vendors displaying in the back".

I of course look at the massive stack of glossy mags at her feet entitled "Scottish Bride" and "Real Life Weddings" and realize exactly what I have done. My smile faulters but I figure dashing for the door would be unsavoury, chicken shit and no free cake. So what can it hurt to be nice?

I swan about looking at their sample invitations, watch the atrocious mini-make-overs, sample the fantastic cake and mostly feel so completely out of place I wonder if some is going to scream and point "intruduer!" they don't though. everyone is so full of bubbly cheer and sychophantic kindness they don't see me breaking out into a rash.

I ended up perusing the beautiful fancy papers for ages and ages. The guy who owns the place came to help but I wisked him away - "oh, i am just browsing for inspiration" with my best fake-bride-to-be smile. But managed to slip in I was intersted in buying some test samples before commiting to a whole invitation batch (sneaky sneaky). "we don't have sales facilities today, but if it's just a couple of samples you're after, go ahead and take them with my compliments". I swear he almost winked . If there had been consortial nudging, I would have died I think.

But still. Free handmade paper! I spent the next half an hour co-ordinating paper weights and subtle shimmer. I kept slipping in some weddingy looking ones (like the handmade rosepetal monstrosity) just in case anyone caught a glance of my sensible chocolate browns and linen weaves was suspicious.

And yes, I must confess although I did end up with a tasteful set of papers (and coordinating envelope!), it did flicker through my mind what I would do if I ever needed wedding invitations. The second that thought it my psyche though, I headed for the door. Just in case they were contagious.

So now I am at home, reading inspiring accounts of Aileen's Big Day and eating the free handmade choclates I found in my goody bag. My only regret is I didn't have the guts to milk it for more.

Is it evil to impersonate a bride just for the nuptual freebies? I hope not.

anonymous is obnoxious

i have way more important things to be writing about, but my griveance for today must be aired.

classmates.com

it's one of those pre-facebook/myspace/beebo/(remember friendster?) registeries which promised to keep you informed of important goings on i.e. high school reuions and not much else as far as i am aware.

and of course, being 4 months out of high school and lonely and scared and facing the entire world and my entire lack of identity, i registered thinking for a brief moment i could at least connect that was the semi-hell of high school. it may have been shit, but at least i was the mad yiddish woman or the ap chem lab partner or somebody. anybody really.

and of course somewhere in college i probably thought to write something pithy and a little bit edgy in my profile to prove i'd moved beyond the high school wallflower prep which would almost definately be really embarassing and sad if i read it now. i am pretty sure the phrase "drink like a fish" is in it somewhere if i remember correctly.

but now they have taken to emailing curtsey updates notifying me someone has posted on my profile's messageboard - and i can see who it's from and read their highly promising Say Anything confessions - for only an upgraded gold membership of five dollars a day for the rest of my life!

what a bargin to find out one of my pseudo-friends from spanish (aka the cool kids who were also in remeidal languages and only deigned to speak to me because i was more interesting than senora valencia) or possibly the kid who cheated off me in algebra 3 think we should have a reunion bonfire somewhere in east lansing this summer and drink pbr and bitch about okemos. my life is complete.

i don't know what would possess me to subscribe, and i pray to god i never cave, i will so regret it.

but that promise of the unknown is fucking hard to ignore.

unimportant but vaguely amusing things about today (so far - the japanese tea ceremony at this rural castle on the shore this afternoon promises frolicking and weirdness):

- my flatmate is reading a book called "in the swil of the waves: the life of otters".

- we found a flat. we won't move in for awhile yet but it's fantastic (and you can see the castle from the bathroom window, which incidentally has toile wallpaper)

- while discussing said flat i bear witness to the declaration "we can spend a whole weekend decorating and make it our own.". le sigh.

- i have packet of cookies next to my bed for emergencies. usually this just means i procrastinate with the breakfast getting and then am so starving i need a cookie boost just to stand up.

- yesterday morning (well, noon) i woke up to mail! not only that, but it said i had a package waiting for me at the post office (oh the beaurocracy, i tell you.) - but it was only open for q5 more minutes. so i dashed down and got a schamncy box from my sister! woohoo!

i wouldn't let myself open it until i tidied my room though, which took ages. and inside was every good thing like cookies and trashy magazines and the best of all - animation stills from Carmen Sandiego, that sort lived noirish cartoon based on the best gameshow for kids (and as we've established, the sexiest villain) of all time.

she is the bestest.

en route to the japanese tea blossom festival at lauriston castle gardens, i am so buying a phone card. joy!

mystique and achilles sitting in a tree...

so as you may have noticed, i've been in a bit of a funk lately.

not only because spring is not the endless joy and relief i had hoped due to work pressure, living tedium and the worry and doubt that comes with life-altering decisions. but because i am a little bit in mourning and a little bit homesick

and also because my hormonal overdrive has reared it's ugly head again. i'm managing to eat this time, but the bleeding and pain are back to their usual tricks and i've barely made it to work the last couple of days.

but, just because my vision is tunneled to the horrors and sorrow, does not mean daily life has not been without pleasant surprises, domestic bliss and incidential joy which i will now catalgoue for your edification and to cheer myself up.

...

and i warn you now, this is will most likely be sickening displays of affection and googlyness because i seriously am desperately in love with someone who is good to me and i relish every minute of it (except when it's really crap, and even then a little bit).

oh, and they are probably totally lame too.

ahem.

- my friend catriona (katrina to you, weirdo scots and their gaelic spellings) just had twins. they are perfect little packets of brown squshy joy - not that i have squished them or anything. just oogled them on flickr.

- hot scot has resurfaced. went to a poncy gig of his last week. he was disappointingly smarmy on stage, but one of the bands was good so liam and i danced in the shadows. i've had a quirky little song in my head all week. if you're on myspace, look up zoey van goey and listen to "two white ghosts".

and i can't pretend i didn't get some small joy out of him seeing me happy with someone else, but mostly i just realized how i was having a much better time giggling in the dark and tickling in the corner than i would have keeping up the banter and the drinking and the twittery maybe-babying up in front until dawn. (plus, new gossip tells he's just been caught in a stationary cupboard fucking one of his creative writing students. how cliche and slightly sad. still, he is a nice guy, and a bit of a laugh and not at all a bad writer. i'm just glad i didn't sleep with him. )

- "sara m. grady you have unsuspected depth". not only does liam quote the philadelphia story in bed, but my god, i am profoundly deep because i have psychically ascertained he strong desire for toast with honey on, and acquired said breakfast unbidden.

- saturday night, ill and decrepid (okay, i was bleeding and he was hungover. shut up.), somehow we ended up doing online quizzes. but i filled one out as him and he did the same for me. As an ultimate greek hero he is Achilles, but I am guessing more in the vengegfully brooding but slightly sombre brad pitt way rather than the proper bad ass but totally gay way. And as a supervillian I am apparently Mystique -although sometimes motherly, this deadly vixen is not to be triffled with. ace.

- he confessed he likes when i inadvertently whisper 'i love you' in the dexter voice.

- in the same conversation my mother tells me uncle richard died (although to be fair, she never said. it was more
'i have something to tell you'
' i already know'
' oh. oh dear. how?'
' i can hear it in your voice'
' oh (sob). i'm sorry. i've been trying to be so...')

we also discuss how i hated her for making me move schools as a kid, how happiness is an unlikely companion, and how we feel about our family.

i also tell her liam and I are moving in together. and although she does say "so as roomates or friends or is this like a romantic thing?" at first (sigh), but she 1, does not give me a lecture 2, does not get quiet and judgemental 3, does not grill me within an inch of my existence. it was nice.

sidenote: i think liam is relieved i've told them (i think he secretly finds my unpredictable, utterly mad and slightly traditional parents and dauntingly large tightknit family a bit of a stress. i've promised him we can stay in a hotel when we visit america if they still insist on the seperate bedrooms business. we'll both need a cuddle after that day, no matter how well it goes or how nice everyone is.)

anyway, it was two hours of chatter while i sat alone in a dingy pub eating a juciy burger, a pint of lager, and proper thick cut chips thinking it was the perfect time for both of those conversations. and secretly i am glad i have told them now too.

i know she misses me. and i miss her. and we'll talk again sometime this summer probably.

- on sunday, we went to the beach. a shady little seaside town on the edge of the city, but i needed to say goodbye properly. the summer before i moved here was the last time i saw richard. he was already with a cane, but his eyes still sparkled. and as we played our last hand of gin he told me of the time he had a day's shore leave in Edinburgh when stationed in the north sea for the canadian navy. about seeing the city and remembering it's coastline, and his first step on land in so many months.

so i went and watched the waves and ships. the sea and sky and sand that have remained unchanged. watched the unfaltering skyline of mountains and castle and remebered him the way i loved him. distantly. but deeply, and fondly. and it felt right.

- everyday i walk home through the tuliped castle gardens and cherry blossom orchard. it's a hour detour out of my day, but i come home feeling so much better than had i got the grimy old bus past the strip clubs and betting shops.

- and i know you don't want to hear this, it's the last one. and it sounds a little crap, but last night, in violent pain and sickening delirium, i tossed and wailed and tried not to utterly breakdown, throw up, or otherwise cave to the mounting war in my body and all he said was "we'll get through this you know. i know you feel you're at odds with your body. i know this is hard. but your my sara. and you're not a burden. let me take care of you." and held my hand. and brought me my stripy hot water bottle (whom we have named Isobel), and sat me between his knees and said "i read it's helpful if i massage your ovaries" and rubbed my tummy until i fell asleep in his arms. and when I didn't want to cry from the pain anymore a little piece of me wanted to cry anyway because of the gentle kindnesses i've been given. because i feel loved.

sometimes it's so easy to drift away.

i don't just mean not writing my friends or absentmindedly glazing at the computer, though both of those seem to be trouble at the minute as well.

but not connecting with my life. disengaging from work, avoiding friends and social engagements. not talking to my sister in months. generally falling into an oblivious haze and foggy hollow I always regarded with contempt in my mother.

losing my sense of self and feeling completely at odds with the world.

it's a lonely stupid place to be.

i wish i was someone else.

or better yet, i wish i was me.

richard harper

death is a funny thing.

not so much funny ha-ha, but funny change-your-life-in-the-blink-of-an-eye.

it changes nothing. it's always been there. the ultimate truth revealled.

and yet.

isn't it always a surprise? a shock. a table-turning, stomach-churning blow.

it's a beautiful, chaotic, dangerous thing. powerful, terrible and peaceful.


and it's odd really, because it hasn't even happend yet. or it has and i don't know. but it will. and soon. and i am inexplicably happy and proud. happy for him i suppose, and proud to have known someone so wonderful. and having had the chance to tell him so. saddened too, that the world will lose such a light. and sorry he won't be there to dance with steph and ang and sam the way he did with sarah. but not mournful. or melancholy. that came before. in the dark lonely night, far far from home. but it passed with the dawn and a reassuring whisper. as the darkest of times often do.

awed perhaps is now. at this shocking revelation that he is quite possibly the best man i have ever known and i didn't even know him that well. that people like that exist gives me hope. that he has lived his life so completly, inspires. and that this weekend, when i stand on the shore he sailed into 55 years ago as a young man, I'll say goodbye to the sailor, the santa, the husband, and the saint and wish him well and hope out there, there are more like him.

i hope he sees anita again.