Wednesday 23 December 2009

Finally Understanding Why Hell is Portrayed as Fiery

Love swept in overnight and, like a bushfire, it has consumed me.

This is not a crush. I know crushes; I get them all the time. Crushes make me giggle and hug myself and sigh happily, lost in daydreams. This doesn't. This hurts.

A month ago, a week ago, he was just a guy. And now he's the only thing on my mind, and the reason I can't eat or sleep or think. A day ago I liked him, felt friendly and warm towards him, and today I can't speak his name without bringing tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.

This doesn't happen to me. Not since I was 15. I don't know why it's happening to me now.

Nothing can happen. I know that as well as I know my own name.

All I can do is make a vow that he'll never, ever find out.

Morpheus Hates Me

Juliet...
The dice was loaded from the start.
And I bet...
Then you exploded into my heart.
And I forget, I forget
The movie songs...
When are you gonna realize
It was just that the time was wrong...

- Romeo and Juliet,
Dire Straits -


My music tastes right now are definitely veering towards the mellow side of things.


[This part of the post got eaten by the blog monsters. :( ]

 The only problem has been keeping guys - and some girls - at arm's length.

And somehow in the last couple of months, since the late summer, I've fallen into a parallel universe where I crave romance and love and security, and can't get a date to save my life.

Jeez, I didn't realise quite how long it's been since I sent you guys a note. Funny how when I was going to the library once a week, I was quite good at remembering to update you, but now I have internet at home I can't seem to remember to do it. *shrugs*

So I'm lying here on my bed and 4.37am, plagued by insomnia once again, although I desperately need sleep. Last night I didn't get even ten minutes - pain, nausea and a ghost conspired against me - and then I had to go to Hemel this morning for last-minute gifts. (I have presents for everyone now, but the ones Mom ordered from a catalogue for Jamie and Craig are out of stock, so we have to go into town and find something else tomorrow.) So I got through the day - at least until 2.30 - on a dark cherry mocha from Starbucks, and a cranberry-orange muffin that probably had about 400 calories in it. I needed the sugar at the time, though.

I did manage to sleep a couple hours this afternoon, but now I've spent this entire night working on the computer, as well as messing around uploading photos. Go look at the pictures; I'd hate to think I wasted the whole night.

I can tell how tired I am, because just about every single word I type has a typo in it that I have to go back to correct. Usually my typing skills aren't too bad, but I'm tired enough that I've lost my coordination. Normally I can deal with tiredness, since I generally exist on about 5 hours of sleep a night, but I think all the rushing around these last few weeks has caught up with me.

I'm not even tired and crabby. I've gone past the crabby stage into totally chilled, almost as though I'd been smoking weed all night. Now, if only I could get my brain to switch off enough to sleep.

Hell. I need a back massage. I need some chamomile tea. I need someone to snuggle with, and I hardly ever snuggle.

No ghosts. I'm not too hot or too cold. I don't feel ill. I'm not particularly hungry. WHY THE HELL CAN'T I SLEEP?

I think the sleep gods hate me. I have this dream that's been bothering me a lot this week. I meet a guy. Hot, smart, very attractive in a sort of sharp, sophisticated way. Older - he looks about 40. Piercing blue eyes and a chiseled jaw. So we meet in a coffeehouse. I'm attracted. He's attracted. We go to a hotel and have a great time.

Then he gets out his wallet and shows me his wife and kids. OMG, I think, I slept with a married man. But that's not the worst. His wife is beautiful. His daughter looks like her. And then he shows me the picture of his son, and it's Apollo.

Yes, my Apollo. My fantasy. I've just slept with Apollo's father. And what's more, I liked it.

Holy shit. I need to stop dreaming. I need a nice big moonstone to put under my pillow. That's what I'm buying with my Christmas money.

OK, here's what I'm going to do. Tidy my room up a little bit, because sometimes I can't sleep when there's mess around me. Make my bed, put the computer away. Go take a warm bath with some orange and calendula bath salts in it. Eat some proper food, not just wasabi peanuts, and get back into a nice clean warm bed. Then by the time I've read a chapter of my book, I'll be ready to fall asleep, right? RIGHT?

I also need to set my alarm to make sure I don't sleep the day away. Only two more shopping days till Christmas.

Well, wish me luck. And anyone who's interested in snuggling, giving back massages or kissing under the mistletoe, gimme a call. You have my number.

Monday 21 December 2009

Morpheus, You Ass

SO...I've been having this dream.

I finally work up the cojones to meet a guy off here. I find one that catches my interest. Sexy, handsome, older. Piercing blue eyes, just the colour of my own - this should have tipped me off, but it didn't - and a smile that lights up the room. We meet in a coffee shop. I'm attracted. He's attracted. We go back to a hotel room and have a fantastic time.

Then he shows me pictures of his wife and kids. OMG, you're saying, You slept with a married man! Yes, yes I did. Not knowingly, but there it is. But this isn't the worst. His wife's beautiful. His daughters look like her. AND THEN I see a picture of his son, and it's Apollo.

My Apollo. Apollo the SBD, the absolute fantasy since I first met him when I was twelve years old.

Oh yes, I slept with Apollo's father*. What's more, I enjoyed it. The whole time, I kept trying to figure out why I was so comfortable with him, why I felt like I'd known him for ages.

Come on, dream analysts, do your worst.

* I didn't really sleep with Apollo's father. This is a dream, remember?

Tuesday 15 December 2009

Christmas Wishes (And Thoughts, And Whines, And...)

I'm supposed to be preparing to go to the Official N-Dubz Concert Afterparty (no, I don't know why they capitalised it, they just did) right now, but my date cancelled on me yesterday, and I just don't care enough to get dressed up and go alone. Although they are supposed to have snow machines, which would be fun. And there might be some nice guys there.

But...ehh. I'm not depressed, I'm just exhausted. There's no real reason for me to be this tired; I haven't gone anywhere in the last couple of days, but I never really recovered from the cold that I got back in September - the one that had me stuck in bed for ten days - and then the little one I had last week didn't help. The condition I have means that my immune system attacks my nervous system, and any time I get an infection of any sort, my normal pains and fatigue are worse for a period afterwards, while my immune system tries to get back to normal.

(For some reason, it always reminds me of a dog that's become riled up at the sight of a cat. The cat appears, the dog starts barking and growling and showing its teeth. The cat disappears in a matter of seconds, but the dog keeps up its racket for quite a while before it calms down. Anyway, my immune system is still baring its teeth at me, so I'm very tired and sore.)

After cooking late Thanksgiving dinner, only my brother and his wife showed up. It was a nice evening, and they took all the food home with them, but my stomach hasn't been quite right since then. I'm pretty sure it was the oil in the cornbread, but I shudder to think how slow my digestion's become if I'm still having stomach problems nine days later. I just hope nobody else got sick. (Not that I really got sick - just pain, but pain's enough.)

So anyway, I've been trying to get all my Christmas stuff done, while coping with all-over pains and tiredness and a sore tummy, as well as looking after Mom and making sure she doesn't climb up on counters and chairs, or lift anything too heavy. Mom had her friend here at the weekend, and I spent most of Saturday cooking for guests on Sunday, only to find that they couldn't come, since Joey had hurt himself and couldn't drive. So Mom and Brian took all the food to them instead - including all my banana bread and applesauce-spice cake - leaving me here to work and sleep. (I can't handle the drive to Leighton Buzzard, it hurts too much to sit in a car for that long unless I make several rest stops.)

We decorated the tree, and it looks pretty good, although I can't find the garlands that go on it. I was supposed to go into town on Saturday to buy mistletoe and a wreath for the door - for some reason Mom decided that the normal fake one should go on the side gate this year, and we should buy a live one for the front - but I had too much to cook, and then Sunday and today I wasn't feeling well enough. And I can't get in tomorrow, I have my last Japanese class before Christmas. I HAVE to go on Wednesday, though, or the guy will be sold out, and I also have to get a new key cut for Ry, and one for Chris. And I still have a ton of Christmas shopping to do. I only have about half my gifts, which is irritating, because I'm usually finished by now.

And I have to go to the post office, because somehow I forgot to buy stamps and mail any cards that have to go abroad. I don't think they're going to get there by Christmas. *sigh*

I don't know what possessed me to think I could do all that needs doing in the next ten days. I wrote twenty-three Christmas cards yesterday - for the people in my class - and about thirty today, for friends and family, and I feel like my hands are going to fall off. Everything I've baked has been eaten already. I don't know when I'm going to get to London to see my Dad - which reminds me, I need to buy them a wedding present, as well as Christmas presents.

I have to go to Hawkins' Bazaar in Hemel, because the catalogue didn't have the naughty origami and balloon animal kits that I wanted for my nephews, and I have to go to Sports Direct in London Colney to find a sweatshirt or jacket for Ry, because the sports stores in town don't have any sales on and there's no way I'm spending £64.99 on a hoodie when I can probably pick up the same one, or at least similar, in Sports Direct for £25. And I really wanted to go to the West End, specifically to the Trocadero, because they always have neat stalls to pick up last-mintute things for Mom, and I wanted to see Oli too.

All of this would be easy if I had a car at my disposal, but the car still hasn't been fixed, and I still haven't managed to get my license either. My plan for this year was to get driving again, but then Mom got sick, and I got sick, and I didn't have the money...

*sigh*

I'm not actually unhappy. Except about the car, but that's nothing new. Despite the complaints, I'm enjoying the Christmas season. I'm just kind of frazzled. I wish I had someone close who'd be there to help out with all this stuff. October through Christmas is really the only time of year when I clearly feel alone, but for those three months I really, really miss having a boyfriend. (Although not just any boyfriend; I've found out from experience that the wrong boyfriend makes me feel more lonely than none at all.) But if I had Curt, or Adam, or Apollo, to come home to me at the end of the day and help me wrap presents and sing carols, everything would be so much more pleasant.

I mentioned those three in particular because two of them actually have reappeared in my life recently. Not Apollo - he's always in and out of my thoughts, and I rarely actually see him. But Curt and I have been texting a little, and he said he'd come and visit before Christmas. Which is really nice, because I miss him a lot. He was my best friend all through college, and for the years after, and it was only two summers ago - after seven years of being best friends - that we stopped seeing each other so much. (Long story.) He needed time to heal from all the problems that we had, so I gave him time. But now we're talking again, and it feels good, although there's that little part of me that wonders if I really truly want to get involved with him again, when it took my heart so long to recover last time.

Adam was even more of a surprise. I wrote to him, just on impulse, and he wrote back. We hadn't talked in about four years, so it was a shock - I expected either no reply, or a response that said something along the lines of "Go to hell, I don't want anything to do with you." But he was sweet, and couldn't even remember why he stopped talking to me, and I forgot how much I'd missed him too.

With these wonderful people - and Oli, of course - coming back into my life, albeit just a little bit, I shouldn't feel lonely. But somehow talking to them has just reminded me how empty my life's been for the last few years. Things have been difficult for several years now, and I needed a pared-down life that didn't tax my emotions too much, but perhaps it's time to start letting things get personal again.

If Curt comes to visit me, and I find that he's single (for once in his life, LOL ) I'm going to go for it. I never made a move on him before, because I didn't want to ruin our friendship, and when I finally found out that he was interested in me it was already too late. But this time, I don't have anything to lose, except my pride, and that's not really worth much. I'm not a child anymore. We met when he was 16 and I was 17, when we were both kids who were scared of our bodies and our emotions and the way we affected each other. He grew up, and I stayed scared. But I'm not scared now. Or rather, I am, but I can push through it. Working where I do has taught me that I can't just let things slide and lose out by default, instead I have to push the situation until I either get what I want or find out that it's not possible. No more letting people I love slip away.

I think that may be a New Years resolution, a couple weeks too early.

Anyway, enjoy your Christmas - I know I am - and I hope you spend a wonderful festive season with the people you love!

Sunday 6 December 2009

Holy Shit, My Parents Got Married

I had a pretty major shock this evening. My stepmother called me and broke the news to me that, back in June, she and my father got married. (Yeah, the father who had a stroke in April.) They didn't tell anyone at all, because they wanted to wait until he could talk properly about it, but since his speech still isn't back to normal they decided it was time to tell me and my sisters, and then everyone else.

I'm not honestly sure how I feel about this. I made a big production of it on the phone, telling her how happy I was for the two of them, and what wonderful news it was. I suppose it is wonderful news. But I'm in shock. I don't deal with surprises well at the best of times - even nice surprises; I'm the kind of person who's likely to walk out of a surprise party rather than laugh and enjoy it - and it's taking quite a while to assimilate.

I do love my stepmother. I wasn't too keen on the last one, but this one is pretty awesome. And I can totally understand why they married. Nearly dying changes a person, and they both nearly died this year: my Dad from the stroke, and my stepmother from a bout of pneumonia in Feb-March that was misdiagnosed twice. It's totally understandable that the shock to both of them would make them realise that they wanted to be married for however much time they have left.

In addition, I imagine that my Dad was worried that he was going to die, and knew that common-law marriages are murder to prove in court. In the event that he died before he and my stepmother married, it's likely that a third of his estate would come to me, and the other two thirds would go to my younger sisters; however with neither of them being of age to inherit, their mother - who hates my stepmother - would be in control, and would certainly insist on my stepmother finding a new place to live.

(This in no way negates the idea that they're in love, and WANTED to be married, but my father is nothing if not practical.)

So sure, I can totally understand why they wanted to marry. I can even understand why they wanted to keep it quiet, although I admit that I did have fantasies of a beautiful wedding, with me and all four of my half- and step-sisters getting to wear fantastic gowns and feel like princesses for the day. (And I imagine I'm the only girl in the world who has a good relationship with her father and yet wasn't invited to either of his weddings.) But neither of them is much for ceremony.

I guess I just can't understand why they kept it a secret for this long. Secret from friends, maybe. But from their daughters? The reasoning she gave me, about him wanting to explain in his own words when he could speak again, just felt kind of odd to me.

Ehh. I suppose I feel a little hurt, although I shouldn't. I know that they'd be horrified if they knew that they'd hurt my feelings. And hell, it's not like I share everything with them. There are plenty of things I keep to myself, including one large secret that I really should have shared with them by now, since most of the other people I know are party to it. But part of me's wondering if they would have told me if I'd been a better daughter, if I'd come to visit more often, if I'd generally had a more open relationship with them.

*sighs*

There's nothing to be gained by being sad about it, I guess. In the past I've often envied friends of mine - and boyfriends, come to think of it - for their close relationships with their families. All through college, I had this best friend, Curt, and he had such a huge extended family, dozens and dozens of aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins. He had the type of family where he could ring up his uncle and say, "Wha gwan, what's for dinner? Rice and beans? Save me some, I'll be over in half an hour." I, on the other hand, have always had the type of family where if you want to see them, you make an appointment a week in advance. I don't mean to make it sound as though we don't care about each other, because we do. We've just never been close. We're less like parents and children and more like distant relatives who get on OK, but don't really know each other very well.

Which is much my fault as anyone's, I suppose. I could have made a big effort to change things, but I always figured, this is how it's always been, too late to change now. My Dad's stroke brought us together - well, brought me and my stepmother and my two step-sisters together, I'm not so sure about my two younger half-sisters - for the first couple of months. Until I started having panic attacks when I had to spend too much time in London, and then stopped visiting as regularly.

I don't know, I guess it's just guilt rearing its head again. My Dad and stepmother are happy, and they don't seem to feel like I'm a rotten daughter, so there isn't anything that I should be concerned about. I'm glad they're married, I really am. I'm just...wistful, I guess.

Always wanting what I can't have. *shakes head and smiles a little*

Saturday 5 December 2009

Today...

...I am cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

OK, so it's a little late, but Mom was sick last week. Unfortunately, *I* am sick this week - nothing life-threatening, just a cold, but it's annoying - so am feeling a little harassed. Add that to the fact that I only got three or four hours sleep last night, and desperately need a nap, and I couldn't find my other leggings to cook in, and the McCalls cookbook has gone missing in the black hole that is my house, and things are more than a little hectic. I wouldn't even be online, except that I was hunting down a recipe for cornbread since the one I use is in the McCalls.

Luckily, my cornbread is now in the oven, and will hopefully turn out pretty good, although I think the oil I used wasn't very good quality, and the top looks a bit greasy. I expect I can dab it all off, though. My potatoes are ready to cook a little later (I'm going to cheat and fry them instead of roasting them with olive oil; they taste pretty much the same anyway) and the chicken (instead of turkey; none of us like turkey much) and stuffing are cut and refrigerated, since we're having them cold. (We only have a single oven - I desperately want a bigger one, but there just isn't space for it in the kitchen, even if I had the money to spend.)

Please excuse all the parentheses - I'm probably explaining too much.

Sadly, all my nice crockery and glasses are packed away for when I move to my own place, so we're left with a couple of 4-person sets that don't match each other. I'm not sure how many people we're going to have - Mom and me, and my brother and his wife are coming, which makes four, but they may bring any or all of her kids. (Who aren't really kids, they're 22, 20 and 19.)

Ack, my cornbread has puddles of oil at the sides. What the heck was the person who wrote that recipe thinking, to use so much? I used only half of what they said, too. And what the heck was *I* thinking, to not smell the oil before I used it, to make sure it was good quality?

Well, I guess I was thinking I have a cold, and I assumed that if it was in the cupboard, it was OK.

*shrugs*

I can pour the excess off and then dab it with kitchen towel. Worst-case scenario, we have to cut the sides of the cornbread off.

I need a bath, and so does Mom, and I think that Ry - our new sort-of ward, long story which will be explained later - may have used most of the hot water up.

But it'll be a really nice evening. I love to cook, and I like entertaining well enough, as long as it's small groups of people that I know well. (I'm not really the party type, normally.) I haven't seen my brother and his wife for months, and it'll be really great to talk to them. And the food will turn out well, I'm sure.

I'm really glad to be back here on AFF - I haven't had internet for more than a year, and the library wifi won't let me access adult sites, even on my own computer - and when this cold clears up and I feel a bit better, I imagine I'll start posting regularly. Or semi-regularly, at least.

Hope y'all are well, and enjoying the winter.

Oh, one last thing - I'm not sure if blatant promotion is allowed on here, but unless AFF emails me to tell me to take it off, I want to use this end bit to promote the LMHR Christmas party. My place of work works closely with the Love Music Hate Racism movement, and I said I'd help spread the word, both about the campaign itself, and the Christmas party.
.
Party details: 7.30pm-1.30am, Tuesday 15th December 2009
Proud Camden, The Stables Market, Chalk Farm Rd, London, NW1 8AH

I'm not sure exactly who's performing, because there have been some changes in the lineup, but I'm sure it'll be a blast. Tickets are £10 in advance, £12 on the door, with all proceeds going to the LMHR campaign.

Weirdness, I put the link for tickets in here, but AFF changed it to their own site. Hum. I guess you'll have to Google it, or search on facebook.

I sadly can't get there - my last Japanese class before Christmas is that night, and I think I have an exam to take - but everyone's welcome, as long as they buy a ticket.

Anyone who manages to get there, tell me how it went!