Updates, Plus A Bit of Random

There's a woman sitting in the carrel opposite me (in the library) who just answered her cell phone, and she has a South African accent, and I'm finding myself wanting to jump on her and hug her for no reason at all. She's my mother's age, average-looking, and most importantly, female. Before she started talking I barely noticed she was there. There is no reason whatsoever for me to feel this way right now.

It's the accent. I could listen to those accents all day. Even fake ones do it for me, if they're reasonably good; Leonardo DiCaprio did it pretty well (in my uneducated opinion) in Blood Diamond, and I found myself drooling over him in a way I haven't since Romeo and Juliet came out when I was about 12.

I always knew I had a thing for South African guys, but if it's affecting me even with middle-aged women now, I may start to worry.

Things are okay right now. Anyone who's been keeping up to date with my statuses knows about my Dad's stroke, but he's over the crisis period now, and what's left is a lot of hard work. Luckily he has private health insurance with work (even though he retired awhile ago, he's done some occasional consulting work for them, so they kept the insurance up, which is a gift from God) so he's been moved out of the Whittington to a private room at the Wellington Hospital, in St. John's Wood. Which is great - while the Whittington gives really good patient care (or as good as any overworked staff can give), it was impossible to rest there, and you can't really get better from something like a stroke if you can't sleep. The place he's in now is really nice - he has his own room, with a little terrace so he can be wheeled out there to sit in the sun if he feels like it, and a little sofa and chair and a writing desk for when he's well enough to write again. I went there the other day, and was very happy with his change in surroundings.

I forgot how much I like St. John's Wood, too. I briefly dated a guy - Michael the Physio (why do I always think of guys by their profession, instead of by their surnames? I don't think I even know the surnames of half the guys I've gone out with, and if I've dated more than one guy by that name I always think of them in terms of job, for some reason) - who had his apartment and offices just off the main road there, but I hadn't been there since maybe 2004, and somehow I forgot what a really, really nice place it is. A little oasis of calm in the middle of London, but without the suburban feel of much of North London.

It was a really nice day, actually. I stayed a few hours with my Dad and Jackie, and then met a friend for dinner in Leicester Square, and hung around the Trocadero for awhile afterwards. I don't go out for the evening all that much these days; when I'm not feeling well I tend towards reclusiveness, and I don't feel well most of the time. So when I do have an evening out, it's really nice, especially when it's a relaxed one where you don't feel pressured into doing things, and you can just walk and talk and enjoy the ambiance.

But anyway, my Dad...yeah. He's doing well, although it'll be a long haul. He has some movement in his right side now, and he's managing to eat things like soup and yoghurts, but he still has his feeding tube in (or did on Monday, hopefully he's had it removed by now) and can't talk, although he manages to make a couple of syllables, sort of on his breath without using his vocal chords.

Jackie is wonderful, though. She teaches phonics to her kids at school (she teaches 3-4 year olds) so she's in good standing to help him with his speech problems, and she never gives up on things. I don't know what we'd all do if she weren't around.

As for me, I've been struggling with these fevers since February, although I haven't been feeling well at all since last August. It got worse in February, though, and I was given the tentative diagnosis of glandular fever. But it doesn't seem to have gotten better. I'm tired all the time, even more tired than I usually am from the ME alone, and every couple of days a new set of lymph nodes comes up and gives me agonizing pains for a few days before disappearing again. And I have really strange fevers: they come and go, and when I'm having one you can feel the heat radiating from me from three feet away, and if you use a forehead thermometer the indicator shoots up, yet when I try to take my temperature using a thermometer in my mouth - any thermometer; I've tried four or five in case one was broken - it's always pretty much normal, maybe a degree or a degree and a half high.

I have an appointment with the doctor on Monday, but I'm not overly hopeful that they'll find anything. Maybe that's cynical, but I'm so tired of doctors who never manage to tell me what's wrong with me. And I'm tired of putting on weight, because I can't go to the gym, because every time I start using the crosstrainer or treadmill, my temperature and heart rate shoot up so high that the machine start beeping loudly. And I'm tired of not being able to buy anything that isn't strictly necessary, not even books or foods, because I can't go back to work - they won't let me back until I get a doctor's note that says my fever is gone, and I don't have any infectious diseases, and all I can do for now is paperwork at home - and my already meager savings are totally depleted now.

So that's my life. I have plenty of hope and optimism about my Dad's condition. Not so much about my own. But most days I manage to get through with a smile, so that's something.

Don't pity me too much, though. There are some moments - and some people - who make it all worthwhile.

Feelin' Nostalgic

- OPEN SCENE -

[A blonde and a brunette are sitting at a table in their college common room. There is plenty of activity around them, but both girls appear to be in their own little world.]

Brunette: So how much fat do you think's in these cookies?

Blonde: I don't know.

Brunette: Less than in a bar of chocolate?

Blonde: [thoughtfully] Prolly chocolate has less proportionally...but the cookie's smaller. Your average chocolate bar weighs what, 40 grams? Cookies are about 15-20 grams.

Brunette: I'm supposed to be on a diet.

Blonde: Why?

Brunette: I don't know, actually...Travi likes me like this.

Blonde: That's cool...he's a sweetie. [smiles]

Brunette: But I'm hungry.

Blonde: So get a cookie. If you want a cookie, get a cookie. You look great.

Brunette: And they have less fat than a chocolate bar?

Blonde: Yep.

Brunette: I could get a chocolate bar and eat half of it.

Blonde: You COULD...but would you?

Brunette: Yep.

Blonde: Wow...I wouldn't. I never eat just half a candy bar. My Mom does, but I don't...I always eat the whole thing. [looks glum]

Brunette: Yeah...actually, I can't either. I can't just eat one...I eat like three or four.

[Blonde laughs out loud.]

Brunette: You wanna share some chocolate?

Blonde: Sure. What do you want?

Brunette: I'll go see what's there.

[Brunette goes off to the vending machines, and then returns.]

Brunette: Munchies, Twix, Aero or Smarties. You wanna share some Munchies?

Blonde: Sounds good. Mmm...Munchies.

[Brunette goes and gets some Munchies.]

Blonde: How much? Here...have 20p.

Brunette: Nononononono...

Blonde: Yes! I owe you, like, sooo much lunch...you gave me money at Chiquitos, and at that club in Leicester Square.

Brunette: No I didn't.

Blonde: Yes, you did...you just don't remember 'cause you were drunk.

Brunette: If you're drunk, it doesn't count.

Blonde: Oh, so that's the rule now? [grins]

[Brunette cuts the packet of Munchies in half with her locker key.]

Brunette: Oh, Travi wants to meet us in Camden. He says he has a funny story about you.

Blonde: [looks confused] About me? Travi has a funny story about me? How? I never see him. How could he have a story about me?

Brunette: I don't know...he just has.

[Brunette eats a Munchie. Blonde puts one in her mouth and sucks all the chocolate off. Brunette eats another one. Blonde waves at a friend, who is standing in the line for the canteen. Brunette eats a third Munchie. Blonde pushes hers over to Brunette.]

Blonde: Eat a Munchie.

Brunette: You eat them.

Blonde: I'm on a diet.

Brunette: So? So am I.

[Blonde looks in surprise at a guy she knows, who wasn't in the first half of chemistry but just walked in the door. She eats another Munchie.]

Brunette: So what about Daniel?

Blonde: What about him?

Brunette: Where is he?

Blonde: I don't know...ill, I guess. Or skiving or something. I haven't talked to him for a while. Wasn't he here on Tuesday?

Brunette: No, he hasn't been around for weeks. We all figured you two were shacked up in a hotel room somewhere.

Blonde: Oh, please...you know I can't afford a hotel room. [giggles]

Blonde: Seriously, though, we're not like that. I don't know why nobody thinks that a guy and a girl can be friends.

[Brunette shrugs.]

Brunette: You just seem like more than friends. He has lots of friends, and he's different with you.

Blonde: Can we please drop the subject? He's just nice to me because he doesn't see me as a prospective date. I don't think he even realizes I'm a girl half the time. [pauses] Not that I care. I don't date.

Brunette: Of course you don't. [sticks her tongue out]

[Blonde playfully swats at Brunette's face with her chemistry folder. Brunette ducks. Nobody says anything for a moment, although they both laugh.]

Brunette: [after a few moments] So you think he's ill, huh?

Blonde: Must be. He told me he wasn't cutting any more classes. He wouldn't even come to Covent Garden with me a few weeks ago, and that was just I.T. Nobody goes to I.T.

[Both girls look glum.]

Brunette: So, you want a cookie?

- CLOSE SCENE -



I miss these days.

[All names have been changed.]

Song Titles Quiz

Using only song titles from one artist, cleverly answer these questions:

Pick a band/artist: Bruce Springsteen

1. Are you male or female: Secret Garden

2. Describe yourself: Born to Run

3. How do you feel about yourself: Thunder Road

4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: Brilliant Disguise

5. Describe your current boy/girl situation: Hungry Heart

6. Describe your current location: My Hometown

7. Describe where you want to be: Atlantic City

8. Your best friend is: Blood Brothers

9. Your favorite color is: The River

10. You know: Streets of Philadelphia

11. What’s the weather like: Glory Days

12. If your life was a television show it would be called: Murder, Incorporated

13. What is life to you: Human Touch

14. What is the best advice you have to give: Better Days

15. If you could change your name what would you change it to: Dancing in the Dark


Hah, I did it with one CD, too...beat that, suckers. ;-)

Hey Strangers!

So probably some of you have been wondering where the heck I've been (and a couple of you know, and likely several of you don't care much either way, LOL ). Nowhere special, actually. I've just been having a lot of problems with my internet supplier. Which means that since October (wow, has it really been that long?) I've been taking my laptop to the library to check my Facebook and email. Unfortunately the library has a block on adult sites, even when you're using your own computer. *sigh*

The only reason I'm actually able to get to you guys now is that I'm staying in London with my stepmother, because my Dad had a stroke a few days ago. I think he's gonna be okay (I HOPE he is, anyway); it's going to be a long recovery, but he's almost as stubborn as I am, so it sets him in good stead.

It was a pretty freak-out moment when I heard, though - he's only what, 62? And healthy as a horse - I thought he'd outlive all of us.

And maybe he still will. *shrugs*

Anyway, I'm gonna call it a night, but apologies for not being around forever, and hugs to anyone who wants 'em. I'll try and check back in the next few days. I know I have, collectively, more than a thousand new posts in the journals I watch, so I imagine I'll be around quite a bit for a week or two.

Summer Camp

Did you ever go to camp as a kid?

I did, but we don't have sleep-away camps in this country, at least we didn't when I was a kid. I went to day camp many times. I can remember a handful from when I was pretty young, but there's one particular one that I remember really well, from when I was about 13. It was called Camp Aldenham. You paid per day, so you could go as often or as rarely as you wanted. Most kids went for a week, or a couple of weeks, but I went all summer on Wednesdays and Fridays (I preferred that to going every day, because it gave my weeks some structure but also let me have time off to hang out with neighborhood friends and do nothing), so each week I got to meet new people who hadn't been there before, as well as some old faces who came for blocks of weeks, and a couple who stayed all summer.

I don't know how it worked for the little kids, but I was in the oldest group (13-15 year olds) and when your parents signed the release form, they also signed a form that allowed us to go on and off the campsite at will, as long as we were with a counsellor. So our main counsellor - his name was Paul, and he was between AS and A2 age, and every girl there fancied him like mad - took us on all sorts of surprise excursions. It wasn't unusual for him to randomly get a bunch of us together and say, "Hey, wanna go to Watford to play Quasar?" Which was really neat, because none of us ever knew what would be in store for the day, and the camp had a contract with several different places, so we didn't have to pay extra for our excursions or anything. If you didn't want to go and do whatever he suggested, you could stay at camp with one of the other groups - plenty of kids did, it wasn't like you'd be alone - and there were always things to do.

It's so funny, I haven't thought of that summer in years, but it was probably one of the best summers I ever had. I can't remember all the friends I made, and I don't think I stayed in touch with any of them, but it was wonderful while it lasted. I'd only played Quasar once before that (and I honestly don't think I've played since), but I managed to kick everyone's butt a lot of the time, and of the three times we went, I got the highest score twice. Once we went to Activity World in Hatfield - usually a place for kids, but still fun at 13 (and I have to admit, still fun in your twenties; I went there for a birthday party just a couple years ago) and slid down the rainbow slide and through the black tubes, and swung on the ropes, and rolled around in a giant hamster wheel, and pelted each other with hollow plastic balls from the ball pond. I made a good buddy, I think his name was Joe, and I remember shoving gooey rubber spiders down his shirt and annoying him by calling Bon Jovi "Von Bogey". We went to Roller City once, and ice skating twice, which I loved - ice skating is one of my favourite things ever. I remember eating forbidden McDonalds burgers (technically we were supposed to get all our food from the camp shop, or bring it from home in our packed lunches) and having Malteser fights, and learning new makeup techniques from the other girls. And one particular day, when we were having a girls-against-boys fight (I can't even remember what precipitated it) and all the boys stayed at camp and refused to let us use any of the equipment, Paul took us out for a drive in the minibus, and I have this incredible picture that I'd forgotten until now: five girls, six including me, plus Paul; Paul driving and trying his hardest to keep us in our seats, but all of us jumping up periodically and changing the channel on the radio; and the six of us singing along - probably very badly - to Seal's "Kiss From a Rose" while Paul did his best not to wince and hurt our feelings. Bless him, he really was a nice guy. It's so weird to think that he'd be nearly thirty now.

We never went on far-off excursions, to Alton Towers or Chessington or Southend Pier, the way I did at a lot of other camps, but it was definitely the coolest camp I'd ever been to. I loved Paul, and I loved the other kids, and I loved the little trips we made. And I also loved staying at camp. When we weren't out, there were hundreds of things to do. There was a climbing wall, which I learned to climb, and by the end of camp I could get to the top of a fifty-foot wall in a little under three minutes. There were several trampolines, which were one of my main joys of camp - although I've never learned to trampoline well, I still love doing it. There was a pool to swim in, and a lake where we weren't supposed to swim, but sometimes did anyway, so the boys could get handfuls of mud and shove it down our bathing-suit tops (cue the fake-horrified screaming, and howls of "You beast!" "You perv!" "You horrible animal!"). I windsurfed a little (although this was a couple of summers before I learned how to do it properly), and waterskied (badly, again this was several years before I learned, and I STILL can't waterski very well), and rode a banana boat. Outside the lake, I drove hand-built go-karts round a track that we made ourselves, and played softball, and had water-balloon fights, and made a waterslide on one of the hills using tarpaulins and a hose. One day, unbeknownst to our counsellors, we all brought in cans of cheap hair mousse, and had mousse fights in the afternoon. (This then caught on at home, and for several weeks the neighborhood kids - Lara and Lisa and Daniel and me, mostly, with Wendy on occasion - would spend our pocket money on cheap mousse from Superdrug, and surprise each other by squirting it all over them when they weren't looking. And sometimes even when they were.) The counsellors weren't happy about the mousse, saying that too much of it would ruin the grass, so the next day we changed it to whippy cream fights (you know, the stuff that comes out of an aerosol to go on top of your trifle).

I played computer games. I even made a very simple game. I played with building electronic stuff, and helped one of the computer guys make a remote-controlled car. I kicked serious ass in archery, and I wish I'd kept on learning, since that was the last time I shot a bow, and I probably wouldn't be any good at it now.

And I met, and fell in like with, Oliver Levey.

Ah yes. Oliver Levey. My first proper crush. Before him, I'd confined my crushes to celebrities. But I fell head-over-heels for Oliver. Of course, he never saw me as anything more than a friend. But friends was fine with me, as long as I could sit next to him and hug him and look at him.

It's so funny. There are guys I went to high school with, guys I've seen at least in the last couple of years, and I can't remember what they look like. I forget faces easily. But I still remember Oliver, more than 12 years after I last saw him. Tall - perhaps five foot ten, even at 14. Gangly, as most teenage boys are, but with nice arms and the promise of muscles elsewhere - while he'll never be Schwartzenegger, I imagine that by now he's got one of those perfect male bodies, lean but strong. Caucasian, but with dark olive skin, darker than I ever go even at my most tanned. Probably about the same colour as my mom in the summer, which made me think that there must be some middle eastern or Indian in him. Dark brown curly hair, kind of wild. Eyes that were usually sea-green, but sometimes looked hazel or even brown. A blade of a nose, a lean jaw. Long shorts and an Orlando Magic basketball vest - the same team that I supported, and the only clothing I ever saw him in - and a matching cap, jammed backwards onto his head. And the most adorable eyebrows: heavy, straggly, almost black.

He looked a lot like my friend PJ must have looked as a kid. When I first met PJ, before I knew his name, I wondered if he might be named Oliver, and I never knew why until I started answering this question. Oliver isn't someone I've thought of in a long time: even though I've never forgotten him, he's been tucked in a safe little drawer in the Library of Congress of my memory banks.

Part of me wants to do an internet search, see if I can find an Oliver Levey who lived in Little Gaddesden in the mid-nineties. There can't be too many of them. But chances are that I won't, because he's such an integral part of my childhood, and bringing him out of it might well make me lose him as a memory. So I'll tuck him back into his memory box again: that wonderful, light, joyful picture of a beautiful boy that I once knew.

Bah Humbug To All Men

SO I woke up late today, having had many bouts of insomnia in the last month, and washed my hair, and dried my hair and then threw some clothes on and walked to the bus stop. And while I was waiting at the bus stop, SIXTEEN CARS BEEPED AT ME, and at least three times that many stared.

I've examined every inch of myself in the public toilet - twice. There is nothing that I can find wrong with the way I look. No blood spatters. No flaps of skin hanging off where I grazed myself without realising. No "SHAG ME" written on the back of my sweater in red lipstick. I'm chubby, but no chubbier than I was yesterday.

The only thing I can assume is that you can see my panties through my skirt. It's a white skirt, a bit diaphanous (although only a bit)...but it's summer, and a lot of women are wearing gauzy skirts, and anyway since when has a woman's underwear been a newsworthy event? From the way they've been acting, you'd think I was standing here naked.

Which is making me wonder, is there something else? Because even when I was sitting on the bus, with my bag in my lap so nobody could see anything, people were still staring at me. I don't know what else it could be, though. Sure, my hair looks like it's been cut with the kitchen scissors (which is no coincidence; I hacked most of it off the other night and haven't managed to get to the hair salon yet), but it's not really that obvious, especially compared with some of the things I've seen on TV and models recently. And there's nothing on my face except bare makeup and a couple of (not particularly noticeable) mosquito bites.

So seriously, WTF is going on?

I'm not really all that keen on attention, to be honest. I get far too much of it, and any novelty value has long ago worn off. People seem to like to talk to me and touch me, and it doesn't seem to occur to them that maybe I don't want to be touched or complimented by strangers. Mostly it's pretty polite, as far as it CAN be - the touches mostly come in the form of tucking in my labels or brushing away non-existent lint or admiring my clothing, and since they happen at least a couple of times a week I've learned to deal with them with a "thank you" and a smile, even when I'm freaking out a little inside. Likewise with the compliments: unless they're leering at me when they say them (and even sometimes then) I smile and thank whoever it is that stopped me. Half the time it's not even remotely sexual, anyway - it's old people wanting to tell me how much I remind them of their granddaughter, or women, or kids wanting a hug. It's only when I go alone to places like Camden or Barking that I get enough male attention that I start to feel harassed, so I mostly stay away from those places, at least when I'm on my own.

But days like today freak the hell out of me. Even if the skirt weren't gauzy, even if my hair were normal, even if I had absolutely nothing wrong with the way I look and could only assume that the car beeps and the stares were complimentary...it would still freak the hell out of me.

I don't know why all the attention, either today or in general. It's not like I'm some supermodel, for pete's sake.

25 Things - Part 3

1) I'm in the process of learning Japanese. I can now write anything in hiragana, but for some reason I'm having problems with the katakana. Thank god it's not used all that much. I also now know around 150 words, which isn't too shabby for one month's learning, IMO.

2) I obsess over perfumes, and own about twenty of them. My favourite is Nina Ricci's Les Belles de Ricci - the original one, with the green swirly bottle. I've been wearing it since I was 12 and I'm still not sick of it. I can't find it anywhere to buy at the moment, though. *cries*

3) I like it when guys buy me flowers, but I'd be just as happy if they bought me a cactus. Cacti make me feel at home.

4) My favourite smells, aside from the perfumes that I wear and the flowers that I like, are coffee, sun cream, the ocean, leather and cigars. Orange is my soul-smell, though.

5) It's pretty pointless to ask me any questions that start "Would / could you ever..." because the answer is ALWAYS the same: "If necessary."

6) I find that the best way to not carry around a whole load of guilt on your back is to not do things that you feel are wrong in the first place.

7) I'm a lover AND a fighter. And I don't have a problem with that.

8) I can be extremely pedantic. I'm very aware of this, but I can't always control it, if I get onto a subject that intrigues me. So if you catch me in a pedantic moment, feel free to tell me to shush. I usually won't take offense.

9) Stephen Fry is probably my favourite celebrity, and one of the few Brits whose humour I generally get.

10) I like to think of myself as a cynical optimist.

11) I think the man in Beyonce's "Halo" video is one of the most beautiful people that I've seen in my whole life.

12) I love kitchen equipment the way some women love shoes or handbags.

13) I dream about falling in love, and having a happy life where I'm married with two children, but I'm scared that I'll never have these things because I'm too inherently selfish to ever share my life with someone else.

14) I'm not pretty, but people seem to think that I am. I can only assume that I have some sort of charm about me that is evident when I'm standing in front of you, but that doesn't show up in mirrors or photographs.

15) I'm the only person I know who actually enjoys doing things alone. I have no problem with going to the cinema on my own, or eating alone in a restaurant, but everyone I know seems to think this is weird. Most of the people I know won't even go to the bathroom alone when they're out.

16) I'm kind of a perfectionist. I don't care one bit about perfection - or lack thereof - in other people, but I care about it in the things I do, and if I don't do something as well as I feel I should I get itchy.

17) I often get convinced that people are watching me through the computer. There's one guy, who I really like, and every time I check out his facebook page I feel guilty, like he's going to pop up in front of me and shout "STALKER!" I frequently find myself checking the computer to make sure that a webcam hasn't magically appeared somewhere on it, even though I know perfectly well that I don't have one. But I can't seem to shake off that watched feeling.

18) I'm writing this list in the bath.

19) I generally remember names and forget faces. If you give me a name, I can usually dredge up an astounding amount of facts and / or memories about that person, even if I haven't seen them in a decade or longer. Put them in front of me without telling me their name, and the best I'll be able to do is a vague feeling that we might have met before. I don't know if this is part of my brain damage or just something that came along naturally.

20) My favourite part on a man differs from guy to guy, but I can always rely on that space between the shoulderblades to make me all tingly and happy.

21) I don't have a "type". When it comes to looking at, and being attracted to, the opposite sex, I'm pretty much a gourmand. Yet when it comes to dating, I'm extremely selective, and actually rarely date much at all.

22) I see the world in vibrant colours. Nothing is ever just red or green or blue for me, it's crimson and scarlet and vermilion, viridian and emerald and jade, cerulean and cobalt and ultramarine.

23) I can manipulate people better than anyone I've ever known, with the possible exception of the late L. Ron Hubbard. I simply choose not to do it unless absolutely necessary.

24) I believe fully that "In all but the most extreme circumstances, we are treated the way we allow ourselves to be." - Jerry Springer (How's that for a strange source of wisdom?)

25) Even a decade later, I still love garage music, and I refuse to apologize for it. :)