life just happens sometimes when you are not looking.
Baby Gulliver is being born today. I haven't spoken to the parents, my colleagues, since they went to hospital, but just the thought of it makes me kind of glow.
It is March. The programme i said I was waffling with in October is still waffling. And I have exactly 7 days to finish it. Done, written, ready to print, no one moving, nothing changing, set in stone for August. fuck me.
My deadline is so strict because I am off another corporate jaunt to Italy the 31st - but this time renting a flat so I have some privacy, and spending my evenings with friends, which should make the whole thing infinately less nervy.
And the big news (even though it's not mine):
Anika is getting married.
She and Justin set a date, she's got a whopper of a square cut diamond, and even though they are paying themselves and I think her parents are still disowning her, I couldn't be happier for them.
So put it in your diary Grady's - Nov 1 in the Chicago Windham.
So that's
July: Iain & Jane (Liam's dad)
August: Festival
September: Kate & Jimmy
October: Carol & Heidi (Liam's mum)
November: Anika & Justin
December: Home for Christmas?
Can I possibly manage a state-side flight 3 times this fall? Jesus. or could I have more weddings to go to? Being a twenty something is fucking weird.
19 March 2008
16 March 2008
11 March 2008
Here are 5 important things you should know:
1, I have shorn my ShieldMaiden of Rohan locks. I hope some kid with leukemia who gets a wig of 12 inches of my hair will be ecstatic.
2, I am regressing into a love of shit sci-fi movies
3, My boyfriend loves both The Philadelphia Story and now, Romancing the Stone. If he wasn't a keeper before, his sharing my ironic love of Michael Douglas dancing in white pants seals the deal.
4, I am going to Italy at the end of March.
5, I am considering getting a mortgage. Is that sad?
1, I have shorn my ShieldMaiden of Rohan locks. I hope some kid with leukemia who gets a wig of 12 inches of my hair will be ecstatic.
2, I am regressing into a love of shit sci-fi movies
3, My boyfriend loves both The Philadelphia Story and now, Romancing the Stone. If he wasn't a keeper before, his sharing my ironic love of Michael Douglas dancing in white pants seals the deal.
4, I am going to Italy at the end of March.
5, I am considering getting a mortgage. Is that sad?
I haven't been writing.
Not just here. But at all. Not journals, not letters, not emails, not postcards, not scathing diatribes on scraps of office stationary, not even badly constructed beginnings of novels or names for my non-existent band. Not anything.
I am bereft of words.
Life is just not writeable somehow. Which is ironic, considering my career.
But it isn't. It's too much. And not enough. And doesn't fit. And promises and takes and starves and grows.
See? Even I know how retarded I sound. It just isn't a literal kind of thing. It's like the epicness of opera but the quietude of an indy Cannes flick. It's everything and nothing and a sara-centred world devoid of a central character.
Perhaps I should take up dance. Maybe then it would all make sense.
Not just here. But at all. Not journals, not letters, not emails, not postcards, not scathing diatribes on scraps of office stationary, not even badly constructed beginnings of novels or names for my non-existent band. Not anything.
I am bereft of words.
Life is just not writeable somehow. Which is ironic, considering my career.
But it isn't. It's too much. And not enough. And doesn't fit. And promises and takes and starves and grows.
See? Even I know how retarded I sound. It just isn't a literal kind of thing. It's like the epicness of opera but the quietude of an indy Cannes flick. It's everything and nothing and a sara-centred world devoid of a central character.
Perhaps I should take up dance. Maybe then it would all make sense.
29 February 2008
Triva Fun for the Day
Go to Wikipedia.
Type in the day and month of your birthday but not the year.
See all the exciting things and people who share your birthday.
19 February
Birthdays
1473 - Nicolaus Copernicus, Polish mathematician and astronomer (d. 1543)
1896 - André Breton, French poet (d. 1966)
1911 - Merle Oberon, British actress (d. 1979)
1930 - John Frankenheimer, American film director (d. 2002)
1934 - Carole Eastman, American screenwriter (d. 2004)
1940 - Smokey Robinson, American singer
1952 - Amy Tan, American novelist
1954 - Socrates, Brazilian footballer
1955 - Jeff Daniels, American actor
1957 - Falco, Austrian singer (d. 1998)
1957 - Ray Winstone, British actor
1958 - Helen Fielding, English writer
1960 - Andrew, Duke of York
1963 - Laurell K. Hamilton, American writer
1963 - Seal, English singer
1967 - Benicio del Toro, Puerto Rican actor
Events
197 - Roman Emperor Septimius Severus defeats usurper Clodius Albinus in the Battle of Lugdunum, the bloodiest battle between Roman armies.
1600 - The Peruvian stratovolcano Huaynaputina explodes in the most violent eruption in the recorded history of South America.
1674 - England and the Netherlands sign the Peace of Westminster, ending the Third Anglo-Dutch War. A provision of the agreement transfers the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam to England, and it is renamed New York.
1861 - Serfdom is abolished in Russia.
1878 - The phonograph is patented by Thomas Edison.
1881 - Kansas becomes the first U.S. state to prohibit all alcoholic beverages.
1915 - World War I: The Battle of Gallipoli begins.
1945 - World War II: Battle of Iwo Jima - about 30,000 United States Marines land on Iwo Jima.
1986 - The Soviet Union launches the Mir space station.
2002 - NASA's Mars Odyssey space probe begins to map the surface of Mars using its thermal emission imaging system.
Not a bad day, all in all
Type in the day and month of your birthday but not the year.
See all the exciting things and people who share your birthday.
19 February
Birthdays
1473 - Nicolaus Copernicus, Polish mathematician and astronomer (d. 1543)
1896 - André Breton, French poet (d. 1966)
1911 - Merle Oberon, British actress (d. 1979)
1930 - John Frankenheimer, American film director (d. 2002)
1934 - Carole Eastman, American screenwriter (d. 2004)
1940 - Smokey Robinson, American singer
1952 - Amy Tan, American novelist
1954 - Socrates, Brazilian footballer
1955 - Jeff Daniels, American actor
1957 - Falco, Austrian singer (d. 1998)
1957 - Ray Winstone, British actor
1958 - Helen Fielding, English writer
1960 - Andrew, Duke of York
1963 - Laurell K. Hamilton, American writer
1963 - Seal, English singer
1967 - Benicio del Toro, Puerto Rican actor
Events
197 - Roman Emperor Septimius Severus defeats usurper Clodius Albinus in the Battle of Lugdunum, the bloodiest battle between Roman armies.
1600 - The Peruvian stratovolcano Huaynaputina explodes in the most violent eruption in the recorded history of South America.
1674 - England and the Netherlands sign the Peace of Westminster, ending the Third Anglo-Dutch War. A provision of the agreement transfers the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam to England, and it is renamed New York.
1861 - Serfdom is abolished in Russia.
1878 - The phonograph is patented by Thomas Edison.
1881 - Kansas becomes the first U.S. state to prohibit all alcoholic beverages.
1915 - World War I: The Battle of Gallipoli begins.
1945 - World War II: Battle of Iwo Jima - about 30,000 United States Marines land on Iwo Jima.
1986 - The Soviet Union launches the Mir space station.
2002 - NASA's Mars Odyssey space probe begins to map the surface of Mars using its thermal emission imaging system.
Not a bad day, all in all
28 February 2008
i saw you on facebook
When one is on the Tube counting every stop to the West End, rushing to catch your seats at the Lion King because your boyfriend's mother has bought the whole family tickets as a huge birthday excursion up from Kent, the last thing you expect to see is your german exchange student.
Well, actually, my germany-living hungarian exchange student's little brother (who subsequently visited my parents when I was in college) and mom (who still sends my parents christmas cards).
I thought it looked like them, but I'd not seen them in like a decade and figured I was being delirious (the new experience of pseudo-in-laws has done my head in).
until he facebooked me. we are like buddies now. long live the internet.
Well, actually, my germany-living hungarian exchange student's little brother (who subsequently visited my parents when I was in college) and mom (who still sends my parents christmas cards).
I thought it looked like them, but I'd not seen them in like a decade and figured I was being delirious (the new experience of pseudo-in-laws has done my head in).
until he facebooked me. we are like buddies now. long live the internet.
17 February 2008
bring it on, you baby lover.
now, we all know i love a good quiz. trivia, reference, Cosmo or math - I just love ticking boxes to find out about my inner soul/IQ/celebrity look alike/death day.
and the internet has always been a playground of insurmountable joy. from the good old days of the Purity Test (still an annual birthday tradtion), to now my love of flixter in particular, billions of people it seems have the time and inclination to supply me with an endless stream of mindless fun.
however, this new fangled bait-the-hook method of quizzing i am adamantly hating with every fibre of my being.
how dare you tantalize me with 'how many 5 year olds could you kill in a death match?' health profile on my ninja skills and fat:muscle ratio and then insist i register for your fucking no-strings dating site to find my life affirming answer? blow me.
and the internet has always been a playground of insurmountable joy. from the good old days of the Purity Test (still an annual birthday tradtion), to now my love of flixter in particular, billions of people it seems have the time and inclination to supply me with an endless stream of mindless fun.
however, this new fangled bait-the-hook method of quizzing i am adamantly hating with every fibre of my being.
how dare you tantalize me with 'how many 5 year olds could you kill in a death match?' health profile on my ninja skills and fat:muscle ratio and then insist i register for your fucking no-strings dating site to find my life affirming answer? blow me.
15 February 2008
blow this hallmark holiday out your ass
some people used to think i'd never get a man. mostly this was because:
a, i didn't believe in 'getting' one
b, i didn't try hard enough
c, mr. darcy is ficticious and all men were worsened by comparison
d, i am a lesbian
any or all of these may still be true, to a greater or lesser extent.
but i think i can safely say i am in a committed, realistic relationship when my valentine is vitamin pills and tickets to Juno.
nothing says valentine's like teenage pregnancy. god i love him.
a, i didn't believe in 'getting' one
b, i didn't try hard enough
c, mr. darcy is ficticious and all men were worsened by comparison
d, i am a lesbian
any or all of these may still be true, to a greater or lesser extent.
but i think i can safely say i am in a committed, realistic relationship when my valentine is vitamin pills and tickets to Juno.
nothing says valentine's like teenage pregnancy. god i love him.
12 February 2008
mom
she came.
she left.
in between a lot of inconsequential and a few very consequential things happened.
we giggled and cuddled.
she ranted about drugs and brains.
i cried. she cried. we both felt misunderstood and alone.
we danced on the beach. we had photo shoots in silly places. we slept in and took long walks and sighed like there was no tomorrow.
and now, i don't feel so alone. not because of her physical presence, but i think because i finally managed to say things i have thought and felt for years if not decades.
i feel freer. truer. more like myself (because tragically, the one place i am not is with them.)
and she is more human, more real and less blameable somehow in her truth - even if it doesn't match my own.
i think the only down side is now i miss my sister even more.
she left.
in between a lot of inconsequential and a few very consequential things happened.
we giggled and cuddled.
she ranted about drugs and brains.
i cried. she cried. we both felt misunderstood and alone.
we danced on the beach. we had photo shoots in silly places. we slept in and took long walks and sighed like there was no tomorrow.
and now, i don't feel so alone. not because of her physical presence, but i think because i finally managed to say things i have thought and felt for years if not decades.
i feel freer. truer. more like myself (because tragically, the one place i am not is with them.)
and she is more human, more real and less blameable somehow in her truth - even if it doesn't match my own.
i think the only down side is now i miss my sister even more.
06 February 2008
someday I'll tell you the story about how my mom called me a couple hours before she was supposed to come and save me from myself and had lost her passport and wasn't coming anymore. It's the really good bit when after I cried and cried and fought with Liam about it and then it turns out it was just a mistake and Dad saved the day like in the movies.
But it's not funny yet. And it's time to go pick her up at the airport.
But it's not funny yet. And it's time to go pick her up at the airport.
05 February 2008
I love my mother.
I also love my cosmopolitain, european, anti-establishment, decidedly naive life.
In exactly 22 hours I will begin the ultimate experiement by trying to combine these two things without anyone getting the short end of the stick.
But first I have to do something. Well, two things actually.
I have rented the downstairs neighbours flat for the week so mom can have her own space to call dad and go to bed early, and mostly not feel awkward when she would so obviously be in the house of an unmarried couple living in sin where we have breakfast in our bathrobes and I leave my pill on the bathroom counter every night so I don't forget to take it.
So firstly, I have to go get the keys from said neighbour.
And secondly, we have to surreptitiously test the accoustics.
Last night in the 'here is the thermostat, don't forget to put the towels in the bin' tour I realised their bed is directly below ours. And while it would be embarrasing to realise the neighbours have been able to hear us having sex for the past 6 months, it would be infinately worse not to know my mother can.
But in other news, I am v excited and cannot wait for a day of old movies and headpetting and cookies. No one does that like mom.
I also love my cosmopolitain, european, anti-establishment, decidedly naive life.
In exactly 22 hours I will begin the ultimate experiement by trying to combine these two things without anyone getting the short end of the stick.
But first I have to do something. Well, two things actually.
I have rented the downstairs neighbours flat for the week so mom can have her own space to call dad and go to bed early, and mostly not feel awkward when she would so obviously be in the house of an unmarried couple living in sin where we have breakfast in our bathrobes and I leave my pill on the bathroom counter every night so I don't forget to take it.
So firstly, I have to go get the keys from said neighbour.
And secondly, we have to surreptitiously test the accoustics.
Last night in the 'here is the thermostat, don't forget to put the towels in the bin' tour I realised their bed is directly below ours. And while it would be embarrasing to realise the neighbours have been able to hear us having sex for the past 6 months, it would be infinately worse not to know my mother can.
But in other news, I am v excited and cannot wait for a day of old movies and headpetting and cookies. No one does that like mom.
03 February 2008
No matter how old you are, it can be immensely satisfying to play dress up.
At our local ritz and chandelier theatre, box seats are cheap - mostly because they have a slightly obstructed view of the stage corner below you. But then really, you get a fucking box with velvet curtains, your own usher to hang up your coat and actual chairs you can move as you please for as much leg room as a 19th century theatre can allow. It's fucking brilliant. So, on a Christmas whim, I bought us a box for The Glass Menagerie.
And while opera glassing the plebs below and sniggering at intermission is just one hell of a night out - it's infinitely better when wearing a Jacky O dress and sipping a g&t.
At our local ritz and chandelier theatre, box seats are cheap - mostly because they have a slightly obstructed view of the stage corner below you. But then really, you get a fucking box with velvet curtains, your own usher to hang up your coat and actual chairs you can move as you please for as much leg room as a 19th century theatre can allow. It's fucking brilliant. So, on a Christmas whim, I bought us a box for The Glass Menagerie.
And while opera glassing the plebs below and sniggering at intermission is just one hell of a night out - it's infinitely better when wearing a Jacky O dress and sipping a g&t.
01 February 2008
Children of the 80s
I have a ghastly confession.
Our office is broken essentially into three rooms each holding a handful of desks, and thus each nutures its own subculture and unique identity. While the front office is quite girly, very cheerful and often well informed on cultural matters - the box office is a more laid back group usually associated with the wry british humour and a lot of bitching.
And we are the back office. Consisting of the artsy programming ones (like me) combined the tech guys who make our dreamy work exist in a never ending list of spreadsheets and quantifyable realities. It is a world of opposites united by our griping, love of pringles, and an odd array of guilty pleasures.
And our new tradition (inpired by a truly outstanding office secret santa gift to my esteemed colleague) has taken root and will possibly change our lives.
Power Ballad Friday. Every friday from three.
Finish out the working week with Cher, Queen, Genesis including a lifetime of memories and naff hand motions.
And of course, moments of great edification. Below is a sample of our machinacinations
- pub quiz like betting on what year Mad Max 3: Beond Thunder Dome came out (obvbiously at the instigation of a certain Ms. Turner)
- thumbs up/thumbs down on if Amy Winehouse is more talented than Britney Spears (thumbs up) eventhough she's just been committed to an asylum of sorts (thumbs even considering Britney's comperable downward spiral)
- a meatloaf/ jack black-as-dewey finn compare and contrast
- the confession someone got broken up with during a power ballad that shall not be named
-an entire debate on the feasibilty of the plot of Mighty Ducks 3 (and the Junior Olympics face off with the nasty Russians) instigated at the opening lines of "We are the Champions" - which everyone knows is the turning point in the first film that makes their unbelieveable success on and off the ice possible.
I love it.
Our office is broken essentially into three rooms each holding a handful of desks, and thus each nutures its own subculture and unique identity. While the front office is quite girly, very cheerful and often well informed on cultural matters - the box office is a more laid back group usually associated with the wry british humour and a lot of bitching.
And we are the back office. Consisting of the artsy programming ones (like me) combined the tech guys who make our dreamy work exist in a never ending list of spreadsheets and quantifyable realities. It is a world of opposites united by our griping, love of pringles, and an odd array of guilty pleasures.
And our new tradition (inpired by a truly outstanding office secret santa gift to my esteemed colleague) has taken root and will possibly change our lives.
Power Ballad Friday. Every friday from three.
Finish out the working week with Cher, Queen, Genesis including a lifetime of memories and naff hand motions.
And of course, moments of great edification. Below is a sample of our machinacinations
- pub quiz like betting on what year Mad Max 3: Beond Thunder Dome came out (obvbiously at the instigation of a certain Ms. Turner)
- thumbs up/thumbs down on if Amy Winehouse is more talented than Britney Spears (thumbs up) eventhough she's just been committed to an asylum of sorts (thumbs even considering Britney's comperable downward spiral)
- a meatloaf/ jack black-as-dewey finn compare and contrast
- the confession someone got broken up with during a power ballad that shall not be named
-an entire debate on the feasibilty of the plot of Mighty Ducks 3 (and the Junior Olympics face off with the nasty Russians) instigated at the opening lines of "We are the Champions" - which everyone knows is the turning point in the first film that makes their unbelieveable success on and off the ice possible.
I love it.
Sometimes the world scares me
Sentenced to death: Afghan who dared to read about women's rights
I am not a politicised person. Sometimes I think that is because those that are are fucking insane - no matter what platform they stand on. To date, I have found little evidence otherwise
I am not a politicised person. Sometimes I think that is because those that are are fucking insane - no matter what platform they stand on. To date, I have found little evidence otherwise
31 January 2008
My family is truly mad. I am pretty sure anyone who has ever met them knows this, but nonetheless. It is, on occasion, disconcerting.
It is also counterproductive to any sense of practicality one may unwittingly, or more appropriately, pitifully, try to impose.
And when trying to plan a schedule from 3,000 miles and in need of some assistance it is most exceedingly vexing.
le sigh.
It is also counterproductive to any sense of practicality one may unwittingly, or more appropriately, pitifully, try to impose.
And when trying to plan a schedule from 3,000 miles and in need of some assistance it is most exceedingly vexing.
le sigh.
24 January 2008
torn
I am sick.
I hate being sick.
I hate feeling trapped in my own body, which is on a rampage of revolt and generally trying to exorcise my sanity.
Plus, on that day three, when things are slightly better, and you feel finally ready to maybe think about eating solid food, and maybe going back to work before the month is out, my brain wakes up long before the rest of me.
Still bedridden with paralyzingly numb limbs and slightly queasy everything else, I am tormented by worries about the gas bill, antsy about friday's now impossible deadlines, and riddled with guilt and sadness for everything from a hangnail to how I wish my family had communicated better over the last two decades. It's like being caught in a landslide of unbidden thought-loops that will slowly tear out any sanity not already destroyed by the delirium and cabin fever.
I so hate being sick. It's the only time I can't properly escape myself.
I hate being sick.
I hate feeling trapped in my own body, which is on a rampage of revolt and generally trying to exorcise my sanity.
Plus, on that day three, when things are slightly better, and you feel finally ready to maybe think about eating solid food, and maybe going back to work before the month is out, my brain wakes up long before the rest of me.
Still bedridden with paralyzingly numb limbs and slightly queasy everything else, I am tormented by worries about the gas bill, antsy about friday's now impossible deadlines, and riddled with guilt and sadness for everything from a hangnail to how I wish my family had communicated better over the last two decades. It's like being caught in a landslide of unbidden thought-loops that will slowly tear out any sanity not already destroyed by the delirium and cabin fever.
I so hate being sick. It's the only time I can't properly escape myself.
22 January 2008
Hello gentle reader.
I feel I have not been myself lately, and I apologise.
I will heretofore endeavour to create a more amenable environment in my trivial updates and impart some small amount of useless knowledge for your edification.
Today:
- The national flower of Mexico is the Dahlia
- and here is a newspaper article (Being Unfaithful Keeps Me Happy) I find by turns deeply sad and hysterical.
Modernity is a joke. May I never be a Telegraph reader.
I feel I have not been myself lately, and I apologise.
I will heretofore endeavour to create a more amenable environment in my trivial updates and impart some small amount of useless knowledge for your edification.
Today:
- The national flower of Mexico is the Dahlia
- and here is a newspaper article (Being Unfaithful Keeps Me Happy) I find by turns deeply sad and hysterical.
Modernity is a joke. May I never be a Telegraph reader.
21 January 2008
Tis the season...
8:00: Wake up
8:30: Get dressed in the dark. Misplace favourite bra.
9:00: Tie up wet hair, run out the door, laden with books. Still darkish out.
9:10: It's pissing it down. Dig hat out of bag and commence dismal walk.
9:20: Breakfast detour - run up 3 flights of steps to street level, try not to die.
9:25: Cleverly step on the dry bit of a half submurged flagstone - except that seesaws the stone on it's invisible fulcrum, sending the whole puddle crashing down into my shoe.
9:30: Coffee shop does not take cards. Proceed to unload all of bag onto counter in search for enough change for breakfast.
9:35: Failure. Opt for a cocoa on the pennies found, skip the pastries
9:40: Walk out the door - immediately be splashed a la Bridget Jones by traffic water. A girl passing tries not to laugh.
9:45: Arrive at work to chipper and chatty colleagues. Ignore them until they leave me in peace. Commence tidying tornadoed bookcases.
10:30: Unpack bag of finished books brought from home onto newly cleaned shelves. Discover they are soaked and wrinkly.
12:45: The guy next to me brings in fish pie for lunch, smelling up the whole building.
1:30: Lunch highlight: finding coupon for DangerMouse dvd in the local paper!
3:31: Dusk
Today is statisically the most depressing day of the year for good reason. My most promising thing yet is the dozen cookies I fortuitously bakes last night at home waiting for me.
8:30: Get dressed in the dark. Misplace favourite bra.
9:00: Tie up wet hair, run out the door, laden with books. Still darkish out.
9:10: It's pissing it down. Dig hat out of bag and commence dismal walk.
9:20: Breakfast detour - run up 3 flights of steps to street level, try not to die.
9:25: Cleverly step on the dry bit of a half submurged flagstone - except that seesaws the stone on it's invisible fulcrum, sending the whole puddle crashing down into my shoe.
9:30: Coffee shop does not take cards. Proceed to unload all of bag onto counter in search for enough change for breakfast.
9:35: Failure. Opt for a cocoa on the pennies found, skip the pastries
9:40: Walk out the door - immediately be splashed a la Bridget Jones by traffic water. A girl passing tries not to laugh.
9:45: Arrive at work to chipper and chatty colleagues. Ignore them until they leave me in peace. Commence tidying tornadoed bookcases.
10:30: Unpack bag of finished books brought from home onto newly cleaned shelves. Discover they are soaked and wrinkly.
12:45: The guy next to me brings in fish pie for lunch, smelling up the whole building.
1:30: Lunch highlight: finding coupon for DangerMouse dvd in the local paper!
3:31: Dusk
Today is statisically the most depressing day of the year for good reason. My most promising thing yet is the dozen cookies I fortuitously bakes last night at home waiting for me.
20 January 2008
year
So for some reason, the darkness this January has made me retrospective. More so than usual even. And I am struggling to fit it all together - as if there is some high meaning puzzle-guru somewhere. Which there isn't. But all the same, I find it soothing.
January
New Years in bed
Quit Blackwell
Begin Book Festival
Leaving Do
First real fight
Conquering the Schools Programme
February
Bleak
Birthday surprise
St. Andrews Mini-Break
March
Think about moving in together?
Alnwick day trip
Dvorak Symphony
Rain.
April
Switzerland Easter with Jennie and Chrissy
Bologna - the first corporate travel
Holiday from Hell in the Highlands:
mafia deer massacre
eerie valley, creepy town
out of gas!
to the sea!
our private castle island
(I had to get my diary at this point. The whole summer was a blur.)
May
Goodbye Uncle Richard
Eurovision scarred my retinas (and ear drums)
Flat hunting
Church weirdness
June
Certified First Aider
Taste of Edinburgh festival
First press conference - shaking
Parties in London, home on the sleeper train
July
Alice in Wonderland Party
Newcastle with Quentin Blake
Glasgow Decadent weekend
a month long period
Goodbye to Falcon Gardens
August
Meet Carol & Heidi
Anika and Justin visit
Anika & Edith Head Wear Red party
Festival
Festival
Alan Cumming
Festival
Festival
Festival
Festival
theatre to break your heart
Festival
Festival
Festival
Liam's Dissertation
Festival
post-Fest binge party.
Pack. Donate. Pack. Bin. Pack. Pack. Pack.
September
Move house
Panic.
Change.
Slick new phone
Excitment.
IKEA
Doubt
Faith
Contentment
Beautiful Bath
Mrs Bashore, not Johnny Depp
very very very sick
October
IKEA
Rolf's Birthday reunion
Sound of Music Party
London I
blobel
Mike visits
London II
November
Discover online groceries
Home!
Liam & the Gradys
Grady Thanksgiving
Wii
Kate's shower!
Anika
Mom.
The flight from hell
Deadline stress
December
Cookie Baking Fest
Our party!
Social office events
2 whole weeks of freedom!
Miso the kitten
no Gradys...
Christmas Eve meanders
Christmas calm
Dallas & Team Hooray
DVD heaven
New Year promises
And oddly enough, I highly doubt these events and holidays and parties are the things I will remember. That if I looked back on what I had written - or if I could fast forward, it's the momentous year I became part of a 'we'.
Which has changed nothing, but affected everything. And it's a damn weird thing to pin down. I couldn't even tell you when I fell in love. Or when i knew. Or when I decided. It just sort of happened. And it's here all the same.
January
New Years in bed
Quit Blackwell
Begin Book Festival
Leaving Do
First real fight
Conquering the Schools Programme
February
Bleak
Birthday surprise
St. Andrews Mini-Break
March
Think about moving in together?
Alnwick day trip
Dvorak Symphony
Rain.
April
Switzerland Easter with Jennie and Chrissy
Bologna - the first corporate travel
Holiday from Hell in the Highlands:
mafia deer massacre
eerie valley, creepy town
out of gas!
to the sea!
our private castle island
(I had to get my diary at this point. The whole summer was a blur.)
May
Goodbye Uncle Richard
Eurovision scarred my retinas (and ear drums)
Flat hunting
Church weirdness
June
Certified First Aider
Taste of Edinburgh festival
First press conference - shaking
Parties in London, home on the sleeper train
July
Alice in Wonderland Party
Newcastle with Quentin Blake
Glasgow Decadent weekend
a month long period
Goodbye to Falcon Gardens
August
Meet Carol & Heidi
Anika and Justin visit
Anika & Edith Head Wear Red party
Festival
Festival
Alan Cumming
Festival
Festival
Festival
Festival
theatre to break your heart
Festival
Festival
Festival
Liam's Dissertation
Festival
post-Fest binge party.
Pack. Donate. Pack. Bin. Pack. Pack. Pack.
September
Move house
Panic.
Change.
Slick new phone
Excitment.
IKEA
Doubt
Faith
Contentment
Beautiful Bath
Mrs Bashore, not Johnny Depp
very very very sick
October
IKEA
Rolf's Birthday reunion
Sound of Music Party
London I
blobel
Mike visits
London II
November
Discover online groceries
Home!
Liam & the Gradys
Grady Thanksgiving
Wii
Kate's shower!
Anika
Mom.
The flight from hell
Deadline stress
December
Cookie Baking Fest
Our party!
Social office events
2 whole weeks of freedom!
Miso the kitten
no Gradys...
Christmas Eve meanders
Christmas calm
Dallas & Team Hooray
DVD heaven
New Year promises
And oddly enough, I highly doubt these events and holidays and parties are the things I will remember. That if I looked back on what I had written - or if I could fast forward, it's the momentous year I became part of a 'we'.
Which has changed nothing, but affected everything. And it's a damn weird thing to pin down. I couldn't even tell you when I fell in love. Or when i knew. Or when I decided. It just sort of happened. And it's here all the same.
18 January 2008
Every couple of months, we have this ritual dinner.
Not on purpose even, it just kind of happens. It's mostly a comfort thing, when someone isn't feeling well. It's like being a little kid again. Like movies in bed and dad getting you lucky charms.
We have (well, I have - Liam has fish fingers) chicken dinosaurs - which are essentially giant chicken fingers about the size of my hand, shaped like t-rexes, stegasauri, triSARAtops etc etc. with oven chips (which are not as good as waffle fries or curly fries, but it is still nice) and frozen peas and corn. Just like out of a school cafeteria or your grandmother's deep freezer in the garage.
It is just kind of nice. He is actually out getting me ben and jerry's just now and we are going to watch a movie and cuddle in the dark, sharing the ketchup dipping pot.
I alo find it a little surprising today is also the day my first platinum credit card came in the post. Talk about a day of opposites.
Not on purpose even, it just kind of happens. It's mostly a comfort thing, when someone isn't feeling well. It's like being a little kid again. Like movies in bed and dad getting you lucky charms.
We have (well, I have - Liam has fish fingers) chicken dinosaurs - which are essentially giant chicken fingers about the size of my hand, shaped like t-rexes, stegasauri, triSARAtops etc etc. with oven chips (which are not as good as waffle fries or curly fries, but it is still nice) and frozen peas and corn. Just like out of a school cafeteria or your grandmother's deep freezer in the garage.
It is just kind of nice. He is actually out getting me ben and jerry's just now and we are going to watch a movie and cuddle in the dark, sharing the ketchup dipping pot.
I alo find it a little surprising today is also the day my first platinum credit card came in the post. Talk about a day of opposites.
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