28 April 2009

There is a lot to say.

I am conscious I still haven't told you about our weekend excursion to the beautiful Stockholm.

Or how we are changing our whole world, one relationship at a time.

or how I am swamped and broken from work and not really sure I can do this any more.

or how i went to an old school house party last weekend for the first time in years, stayed out til dawn (2am is waaaaaaaay past my bedtime), and caught up with friends I adore (it was for a friend who was recently nominated for the Carnegie medal!)

The thing is, everytime I mean to write, I get swamped with guilt and overwhelmed with all the things I "need" to record and give up until I have the time and energy to do it justice.

I hate to break it to you, but I am starting to think that time might not come. Not now spring is snowballing into summer and festival season is already breathing down my neck.

BUT, I have just booked a long weekend to visit my dad in Ireland and am scheduling a whole two week holiday for July to properly rest and relax (is that what normal people do on vacation?). I cannot wait.

Though the sadness that tinges a life where you live weekend to weekend is a bit unsavoury for the likes of me. It's finally time.


Anyway, things could be way worse. I am only tired, not starving or depressed or mugged. But yeah, I guess I don't want to forget this. It's a bit rubbish and I want to end this cycle before it engulfs my sanity.

17 April 2009

tide and time

sometimes I have these minor revalations that change everything. Or at least, they change how I look at things, which subsequently effects everything else in my world.

Like realising I don't like candy. Once the high is gone I feel sick, and it's just not worth it.

Or walking down the cherry blossom streets and realising my melancholy joy is the feeling of breaking up. Letting go. Because I know soon I will be leaving this town, everything that makes me smile feels like the last time.

Last weekend we had one. For the long easter weekend, we went to the sea. It's 7 minute train ride from the centre of town. Something we do quite a lot actually- but usually ad hoc and just for a little while. This was systematic excursion involving a picnic, a 7 mile shorline hike and discovering a mosterous and fascinating dead seal.

While the seal carcass - which was mostly flubber and skeleton - was freaking sweet (and gross), it's not really my point.

The molecular epihpany was that we are both shore people. I've always loved the water. As a kid I romanticised it as my dad's selkie genes. But being by the water is a sure fire way to feel alive. No matter how often, how dirty, even industrial wastelands prove enlightening.

So we decided. we are going to live on the water. On the coast. On a big wide piece of water that can engulf, ensnare, and even promise salvation.

Just saying it we both felt the scales fall from our eyes and the weight slip from our shoulders. It's such a funny thing to care about so vicerally. But there you go.

We'll take it small - maybe Brighton or Chicago or San Francisco for artsy urban bike-riding sea fronts. We're not forsaking our way of life yet. It'll be years before we work up to proper shack and shanty cronies who smell of fish guts.

05 April 2009

You should know, I live in the most beautiful city on earth.

it's hard to believe one can forget a fact like that, but when it's so fucking hard most of the time, you'd be surprised how easy it can be to forget.

Liam is away this week, so I have a lot of time on my hands. It's helping me remember.

I find myself doing a lot of wandering and staring out of windows. And man, is there a lot of ground to cover.

yesterday I walked the river valley that cuts through town. rushing water, budding trees, calm peaceful countryside under spanning bridges and beneath georgian townhouses. so tranquil, so yuppie. so freeing.

today, I climbed calton hill - the home of grecian monuments and wild landscapes. the 360 views cover the sea, the volcanic hills beyond town and the heart of the city itself - the gothic spires and monolithic castle. It's truly unbelievable. perched on a bench up there watching the influx of tourists on a sunny morning proved beyond a doubt, it's not just me - everyone who comes here feels like they can fly.

after that I went and saw Juno again.

It was some free charity screening, but it's my movie - our movie. And being home alone, it was really nice to see it and remember how lovely it was of Liam to take me. twice. I always cry. Tears of melancholy joy and profound emotional understanding of what it is to love so deeply, and so stupidly. That's what family is like. Completely unexaplainable.

Anyway, so now I am home.

I have taken to wearing my 5 inch chinese laundry fuck off heels in the house when Liam's not home. I think it's because there is no where else for me to wear them.

It's pretty killer, but also makes me worry if there is a cat-lady shoe equivalent I should be wary of in my old age. I can see a future me decked out like some freakish sunset boulevard hag, strutting the hall in pearls and not much else, prone to sedaris like quips from the neighbours. the worrying part is I don't really care. It's fun. And probably always will be.