The Adventure Continues...

Labels: Memories

• consuming chocolate
• debating real estate
  
• crying tears
  
• reading cards (so damned bright, we're sleeping with shades on from now on)
  
• editing photos
• hunting down restaurants (dagnabbit, those thangs sure do run fast)
  
• stretching legs to see if we could reach the shelf above my pillows (ultra dodgy - thank heavens the paparazzi have FINALLY decided to leave me alone - damn them!)
• sifting through (hopefully) resolved problems
  
• sharing makeup
  
• talking about boys (verdict: they smell)

Labels: Memories, what to do...?

Labels: Memories, Navel Gazing

Labels: Memories, Observations on Life

Labels: Memes, Memories

The sea provides me harmony. You know that chaotic feeling you get inside yourself, when all your blood is racing from one end of your body to the other, like a kitten chasing a laser pointer on the ground? When you’ve a roaring in your head that’s forming a whirlpool down your spinal column, and you just can’t keep still from the itching under your skin? That’s when I NEED the sea. Like, now, already. And no, the smell of brine will NOT suffice. It’s got to stimulate all of my senses: the sight of the waves rolling – whether they’re silky smooth navy blue, cresting whitecaps on a rolling boil, or smashing into rocks – I don’t care. The sound - gentle lapping, roaring, hissingly angry - I don't care. The smell - sea weed rotting and drying in the sun, seagulls poo everywhere, crabs bringing the smell of shell to the shore - I just don't care. The taste - the vinegar that begs to be added to the fish, the salt, the cold air on your tongue, the crunchy brittleness of sand between your teeth - I tell you, I don't care what it is. And the feel - the bracing wind against your face, your hair whipping around you, the sun beating down on your shoulders and nose, the sting of icy cold spray or the tempting tickle of squidgy sand between your toes - I want it all. Bring me anions - STAT.

My heart is on my sleeve. It always has been. It (probably) always will be. Despite being hurt REGULARLY (hey, it’s good blog fodder, right?) I’ll still give people the benefit of the doubt immediately – trust them implicitly instinctively. Then, said heart will be trampled on (and possibly spat upon too, but at that point I’m usually too upset to look) and I’ll have to reattach the pieces to my sleeve, and hope that they will eventually mend BEFORE I go giving it away to the next bastard. I suspect that one day, I’ll pin it on the INSIDE of my sleeve. That’ll be the day I close my eyes to the rest of the world.

I love to laugh. There’s that moment when your face relaxes into a smile. Then your forehead slides back just that little bit further, and your mouth stretches further to reach your ears. And before you know it, your throat and belly give birth to a cackle, or a guffaw. Occasionally, a full creasing up laugh, that won’t stop – one of those giggling fits that comes in waves and is best shared with someone else (in case the people with the funny white Kris Kross jackets come back). According to someone else, my tongue touches my teeth when I laughed.

I have a spell book. I’ve used it once (a spell to make myself appear prettier), because I’m suspicious that if I used a spell to manipulate someone into doing something with/for/to me, then that won’t be real. And you know, most of my stories did originally start with something that was real!

I played cricket. Only for a season. It was crap. My whites weren’t (due to Mum’s Amazing Multicoloured Washing Machine^TM – not to mention parental sniggers along the lines of ‘we’re not buying you new kit when you’re not going to last in this sport - we've witnessed your attempts to catch a basketball’), and standing in the middle of a field was boring. You couldn’t even swing the bat like a baseball bat. I scored 3 runs all season (I think). It (I? Nah!!) was shit.

The only dead body I’ve ever seen was not of my blood. It was my ex-boyfriends aunt (or great aunt - I forget - Rose was her name, so possibly great aunt). It’s also the only funeral I’ve ever been to. Oh, I’ve known people who’ve died, but generally speaking I’m half a world away and skint. So I borrowed an experience from the guy who would jolt awake if a phone rang in the middle of the night – sure that someone else had died. Seldom was he amused to find me conversing with random people I used to know.

Labels: Memories, Navel Gazing

Labels: Memories, Observations on Life, What to do

Labels: Memories

• It’s possible to fall asleep to the sound of someone else snoring – despite all evidence (throwing things at my brother in our youth to make sure he stayed awake till I’d fallen asleep in silence) to the contrary.
• The thing I do, when I see skulls through people’s skin, is ordinary – not weird and worthy of the Twilight Zone theme tune.
• Silly jokes do make me giggle – once the penny has loudly clanged.
• There’s someone of the perfect height and proportion to either kiss me standing up, or spoon me so I feel ‘safe’ and ‘home’.
• Homesickness can apply to people, not just places.
• The clicky finger thing doesn’t have to be taught to everyone.
• It’s possible to be kissed on the forehead and not feel patronized.
• I have a pretty head and I effervesce (does this mean my head is bubbly? I have bad hair?!!!!).
• Friends recognize a good catch when they see me with one, AND will tell me.
• My pliability is appreciated by someone.
• I can be wrapped in someone’s arms and almost faint from delight and security.
• Someone who ‘makes stuff’ can like someone who ‘measures stuff’.
• My teddy bear has a gruff voice.
• I’m not the only one who can start a dance floor. Or finish it.
• My ‘thing’ for the ethnically variegated is well reasoned and genetically enhancing for all (I heart mutts).
• Someone approaching me telling me that they need more attention from me makes me feel all warm and tingly inside.
• If they’ve also been finding themselves ogling me, involuntarily, and feel slightly dirty for it, I feel even MORE delicious.
• Someone exists who makes me laugh out loud. Lots. “fuck yeah…”
• Some people expect me to either own or receive a tiara. And wear it. I do.
• I’m comfortable being scrutinized provided there’s no judgment in the person’s eyes.
• Partying is as important as climbing European mountains (not that I needed reminding).
• Someone can be sufficiently adventurous as to take a piece of paper with my scribbles on it, venture into the Prague wilderness, fulfill a mission and return before I’ve stretched out three pizzas. No, really.
• I like men who look like birds of prey. It’s in the eyes.
• Straight teeth are important to me. As are smiles.
• If they’re not smiling, someone will appreciate me reprimanding them to ‘stop scowling’.
• It’s okay that I’ve put up my own shelves. Even if I did worry that my cat might eat my dead body as it decayed having been electrocuted by drilling through the electricity cables.
• It’s good that I hung out with Dad long enough to learn about (some) tools.
• It’s possible to snog someone for (not long enough) almost 4 days and not get pash-rash (but HOW?!).

Labels: Memories, Observations on Life

Labels: Memories

Labels: Memories, Navel Gazing

Labels: Memories, What to do

Labels: Memories, what to do...?

Labels: Memories

Best in-country friend: Kat
Best friend forever: Liorah
Lost any friends: No, all present and correct at last roll call.

[PLACES]
Went out of the country: Yes
Moved: No
How many times on an airplane: Are you serious? Okay hang on (destinations only: Prague, Berlin, Copenhagen, Baku, Prague, London, Prague, Frankfurt, Baku, Frankfurt, Madrid, Prague, London, Barcelona, London, Prague, Venice, Prague, London, Amsterdam, Tallin, Prague, Zurich, Geneva, Prague, Barcelona, Mahon, Barcelona, Prague, Paris, Sao Paulo, Brazilia, Sao Paulo, Paris, Prague, Copenhagen). So that’s…36 planes I was on in 2006. Even I have to admit that’s disgusting.

[YOU]
Did you change: Yes. I’ve grown less enthusiastic.
New look: None whatsoever. I’m still wearing all the clothes I wore to work in NZ.
Most depressed time in 2006: Um, the bit in the middle, specifically related to work. And failed romances. They suck.
Best time in 2006: New Years with the crew, Azerbai-bloody-jan baby!, the holiday with Nis and Nine, meeting and moving in with Adam, hanging with J in the summer, having loads of visitors, having the crew for Christmas in Prague, being with the EPIET gang and sharing this New Years with them.

[LOVE]
Did you get heartbroken: Not as such. Heart SORE, yes. Heartbroken? Nah.
Who was your summer love: I guess that would be the Dutchman. I guess.

[SEASONS]
Favorite Season: Autumn
Least favorite season: Winter
Good birthday? The scenery was great.

[FINAL QUESTIONS]
Got arrested: No
Had a crush: Yes
Lost a family member: No
Got bad grades: No
Got a Myspace: No (I had one before)
Kept a secret: Yes
Told a secret: No
Done something you totally regret: Nah, I stand by all of my actions. Which is good, because then I’m right there to pick up the pieces…

In 2006 I...
[ ] broke a promise
[ ] made a new best friend
[x] fallen out of love
[ ] lied
[ ] went behind your parents back
[ ] cried over a broken heart
[ ] disappointed someone close
[ ] hid a secret
[x] pretended to be happy
[x] kissed in the rain (oh yeah, so I did. Huh.)
[ ] slept under the stars
[ ] kept your new years resolution
[x] forgot your new years resolution
[x] met someone who changed your life
[x] met one of your idols
[ ] changed your outlook on life
[x] sat home all day doing nothing
[x] pretended to be sick
[x] left the country
[ ]almost died
[ ] given up something important to you
[x] lost something expensive
[x] learned something new about yourself
[x] tried something you normally wouldn't try and liked it
[ ] made a change in your life
[x] found out who your true friends were
[x] met great people
[x] stayed up 'til sunrise
[x] pigged out over the summer
[x] cried over the silliest thing
[x] was never home on weekends
[ ] got into a car accident
[x] had friends who were drifting away from you (or me them)
[x] had someone close to me die
[x] had a high cell phone bill
[ ] wasted most of my money on food
[ ] had a fist fight
[ ] went to the beach
[ ] saw a celebrity
[x] got sick
[x] liked more than 5 people at the same time
[x] became closer to a lot of people

Labels: Memories, Navel Gazing, Observations on Life

…so road trip it was. It was with my best mate 9, and her sis Nis. We convened in London prior to the ‘big adventure’ and departed after having good quality chocolate and tea at Nis’s huge flat (a theme may have been born).

Our first stop was Barcelona, I assume we flew there (but remember NOTHING of the flight, so cannot be certain. I was still in my days of getting on a plane, falling asleep before takeoff and awakeing only barely in time to wipe the drool from my shoulder, my tray table and the person next to me in order to pick up our bags). After rambling in Barthelona, Madrid beckoned.

We departed on a train, in the morning, having first stopped at the most amazing market to collect “train scroggin” enough (and of sufficiently bounteous delight) to give our carriage mates envy. Chocolate coated fruits/nuts, jamon, quesa, pan so fresh and tasty you could smell it in the next carriage…

…after we’d finished our feast (approximately 20mins after boarding the train), we were soon in Madrid.

And while there’s no place I like more (except, perhaps, Buenos Aires), there are some funny things in Madrid. The signs on the metro, for instance.

Now, we three girls had been travelling for a few days. Hyperglycaemia had set in due to the amount of sweets we’d ingested. We were in SPAIN for heaven’s sake. Some of us could exclaim “I’m in EUROPE” in a voice that begged the response “yes dear, now have some more tea”. So we were all a bit giggly.

Also a bit alarmed at how much we were learning about one another that we hadn’t already learnt (despite being blood relations or spitting sisters…not that we ever did that because I have an aversion to saliva…but you know what I mean). All the secrets were coming out, they had to, since we’d be sharing beds in some arrangement or another in the near future.

So when we saw the sign on the metro, it entertained us to think that the sign did not mean “keep your filthy paws off our silky doors” and instead, read it as “okay – not”.

Which quickly became the excalmation “NOT-okay!!!!” when I asked whose turn it was with the vibrator that night.

Labels: Memories, Travelling

There are many definitions for the word ‘crush’, but it seems that changing this word into a verb has not reached the lexiconographers yet. Come on people, listen up.

"To crush on" = the archaic “to HAVE a crush upon”, or to have a brief infatuation with someone.

Personally, I’m a girl who likes to have a crush, I get lots done. There’s absolutely no reason to learn how the postal system works if not to use it in devious ways to ‘accidentally’ send something to the ‘wrong’ address, that of your crushee. When I have a crush, things like bpm mixing all of a sudden becomes vital, how can I possibly give my dearly be-infatuated a CD with all of his/mine/our favourite songs upon it unless I am sure they make sense together in a rhythmic AND musical manner? Not to mention the intepretation of all of the song titles, that they make a complete story.

And don’t tell me that you haven’t done the “ARGH! I sent that message by accident, it was supposed to go to the person above you in my address book” sms, after sending them a lascivious message – completely on purpose.

Crushes remind you that you’re alive! There’s a REASON to get up in the morning (maybe I’ll see them on the street…), and put make up on (I’d better look good when we accidentally bump into one another). Your boundaries start becoming larger (I’ve never been down this street before, but since he lives in this suburb, I’d better explore it thoroughly) and your stomach feels smaller (I couldn’t possibly eat that mint, in case he smiles and my mouth is too full to smile back). Your sleep is ruined (I shall not move a muscle while I sleep so that my face is unlined and unpuffy tomorrow morning) but your eyes sparkle like you’ve been snorting cocaine (it’s the zealous look).

But the best thing about crushes, is the way that they affect your behaviour, that is, what you do when you are physically near the object of your desire.

I am a researcher, so I investigated. My methods were plying friends with drinks, then asking them sensitive questions. Results indicates that we do the following:

• prodding,
  
• wrestling with,
  
• flicking pencils at,
  
• swearing in front of,
  
• stalking,
  
• making noises (I have yet to investigate what type of noises, further research required) and;
  
• biting.
  

It’s barely more mature than pulling hair and giving dead arms (the halcyon days of my primary school crush).

There’s one more thing that I’ve been accused of doing. Apparently, I command all of the molecules between myself and my intended.

Which is why I’ve never been able to say, “Er, what do you mean?” when a good friend has called me on it. To the point where now, they just say, “so how’s the crush on [name here] going?”

Annoyingly obvious, not to mention, who wants to go out with someone knowing that you bullied them into the situation by using your superpower of ‘molecule command’?

Labels: Memories, Navel Gazing, Observations on Life

It blared Coming Home by Dire Straits each morning as I warmed my socks in front of my heater, waiting to hear if there had been any movement on the Theresa Cormack case.

The joy of having a 24 hour clock is that each hour, there’s a double. And you get “points” for noticing these and crowing loudly about it. Twice a day, there’s the opportunity to crow even louder: either 01:23 or 12:34 wins you even MORE points.

I only just managed to restrain myself from txting my brother “it’s 10:10!!!” when I woke up in his flat on Sunday.

Tell me about your (crazy)family traditions**.

*Before we head out to dinner, Dad can often be found in the laundry, with newspaper spread over the washing machine, and the shoe cleaning kit: scrubbing at shoes vigorously with black nugget whilst simultaneously reading the newspaper. Ahh, memories.

**For the love of whoever-it-is-you-call-upon-in-these-situations, distract me from the moronic incompetance of the telebanking operators for Česka Spořitelna, PLEASE.

Labels: Memories, Rant