Ah, the heart sings and leaps at words typed and cybered to my inbox.
Ah, the mind works hard to pre-interpret my own prose before I press send - be suggestive yet safe.
Ah, the symbolism of the first 'X' received in an email farewell.
Ah, the meaning behind a speedy reply.
Wrap me in your words and clever sentences. Let me lick you with my use of adjectives.
This feels different. Let it be different. Let the delicious soup come to the boil exceedingly slowly. Don't burn it.
Removing metaphors and being plain as a cheese sandwich - my heart is actually beating faster and feels pleasantly swollen. It seems no creative license was taken when the first writer described the organ of the heart being linked to romance.
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Saturday, 18 April 2009
Unscathed on a Saturday Night
I am safely home from a rendezvous with the BG. Unscathed and happy. Unpashed and happy. Not totally clear on whether he likes me or not but happy. Not confused, just happy. Inspired. I garnered some insight into the Boy-Genius' creative process. I am inspired and yet although my creative work could be feeling undermined or second-rate, I don't feel this, I feel good. I hope I've made a friend.
I drank another two beers and finally had my coffee sometime after 4pm. BG didn't dig as deep into me as I did of him but I'm not investing in any overanalysis of that observation nor taking it personally. I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I am stronger, calmer, not necessarily trying to say I am 'better' - as that's arguable.
What a sweet boy. What a sweet human spirit. So raw, so emotional, so soft and rather sexy. A loose caboose who doesn't lodge his tax return and yet he feels eminently reliable. So many assumptions made! I'll now close this chapter on the BG and see whether I can conclude this mini-obsession and let any friendship evolve naturally, without a parallel relationship being penned out here in uncharacteristically ok. Did I reveal too much about myself? I'll never know and who cares. As I said, I've emerged unscathed and calmer. I don't feel offended that he wants to spend all his hours writing. I respect it and want to get into housemouse mode myself.
C'est la vie.
I drank another two beers and finally had my coffee sometime after 4pm. BG didn't dig as deep into me as I did of him but I'm not investing in any overanalysis of that observation nor taking it personally. I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I am stronger, calmer, not necessarily trying to say I am 'better' - as that's arguable.
What a sweet boy. What a sweet human spirit. So raw, so emotional, so soft and rather sexy. A loose caboose who doesn't lodge his tax return and yet he feels eminently reliable. So many assumptions made! I'll now close this chapter on the BG and see whether I can conclude this mini-obsession and let any friendship evolve naturally, without a parallel relationship being penned out here in uncharacteristically ok. Did I reveal too much about myself? I'll never know and who cares. As I said, I've emerged unscathed and calmer. I don't feel offended that he wants to spend all his hours writing. I respect it and want to get into housemouse mode myself.
C'est la vie.
Friday & Saturday Morning
The note-taking continues. I just did a meditation that I certainly didn't concentrate on for the full 20mins, but it relaxed me somewhat. I am feeling nervous about meeting the BG this afternoon. Even more nervous than I was before a meeting with a major advertising agency earlier in the week.
Friday. I worked. I didn't have a proper breakfast - but ate some delicious fruit toast mid-morning. 2 coffees and a chai. I met a self-created deadline by the skin of my teeth. The BG called to arrange this afternoon. God it was good to hear his voice. He was so full of joy and silliness. I was pretty confident the whole way through the day as I worked on a creative proposal. Even as I was putting the finishing 11th hour touches on it I was thinking, this isn't too bad, I have done alright. I've put in a good effort and it shows. Then later on last night I started to interrogate my confidence. I could've done a better job, what will they think - was it half-arsed and ill-thought out?
I had a lovely catch-up with a cousin-friend who's been living overseas. I drank about 3 beers and a vodka in a pint glass topped up with soda water (this is a new revelation). I talked about the BG. I couldn't help myself. I'm a walking advertisement for whatever's on my mind. Anyways, I went to the bathrooom a bit after 11pm and got a fright looking in the mirror. I need my beauty sleep! No one will ever fall in love with me (particularly in the harsh sober light of day) whilst I look like this.
My confidence and outlook plummeted like blood pressure. The tram ride home I sat withdrawn and despondent. I blame the alcohol. I really want to try and drink less. I've had about 3 or 4 drinks every night this week. It's no good for my liver, face, brain, allergies nor wallet.
This morning I haven't had a coffee. Very rare. The nerves running through me have kick-started me enough. I am reading horoscopes, in search of wisdom and calm. So stupid. I did a teeny, weeny amount of yoga this morning and watered my neglected plants. Hoping to save myself via routine tasks and down-to-earth nuturing. I think I will walk to the post office and check my PO Box.
Friday. I worked. I didn't have a proper breakfast - but ate some delicious fruit toast mid-morning. 2 coffees and a chai. I met a self-created deadline by the skin of my teeth. The BG called to arrange this afternoon. God it was good to hear his voice. He was so full of joy and silliness. I was pretty confident the whole way through the day as I worked on a creative proposal. Even as I was putting the finishing 11th hour touches on it I was thinking, this isn't too bad, I have done alright. I've put in a good effort and it shows. Then later on last night I started to interrogate my confidence. I could've done a better job, what will they think - was it half-arsed and ill-thought out?
I had a lovely catch-up with a cousin-friend who's been living overseas. I drank about 3 beers and a vodka in a pint glass topped up with soda water (this is a new revelation). I talked about the BG. I couldn't help myself. I'm a walking advertisement for whatever's on my mind. Anyways, I went to the bathrooom a bit after 11pm and got a fright looking in the mirror. I need my beauty sleep! No one will ever fall in love with me (particularly in the harsh sober light of day) whilst I look like this.
My confidence and outlook plummeted like blood pressure. The tram ride home I sat withdrawn and despondent. I blame the alcohol. I really want to try and drink less. I've had about 3 or 4 drinks every night this week. It's no good for my liver, face, brain, allergies nor wallet.
This morning I haven't had a coffee. Very rare. The nerves running through me have kick-started me enough. I am reading horoscopes, in search of wisdom and calm. So stupid. I did a teeny, weeny amount of yoga this morning and watered my neglected plants. Hoping to save myself via routine tasks and down-to-earth nuturing. I think I will walk to the post office and check my PO Box.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
Doctor's Orders
Went to my GP this morning. Was hideously late and thus skipped the pap-smear and skin-cancer check. Had a necessary chat about the reduction of anti-depressant medication. Been on half-dose for a month now and haven't turned into a werewolf yet. But still going for a wax on Saturday.
There is fear in me, or should I say there was, until my Angel of a GP instilled confidence and strategy in me. Each time I have had a life-stopping 'flip-out' during the past 4 years it has been related to some hi-stress or confidence taxing work. I crumbled. I went to bed for days and my EX-partner had to dress me in his jacket and take me out into the backyard for some sun, whilst I cried in despair all the while. It was crazy. The GP rightly said that I'm not the same person anymore. I'm not the same person I was and I may not and probably won't react to stress in the same way I did many years ago. I get tight in the chest and eyes-swell just recalling these incidents or moods. I am definitely not the same person I was. The EX has missed out. I often think we took the worst years of each others' lives.
Anyway, I rant and rave and the purpose of this post is to start charting the next couple of months with simple observations, as per my doctor's advice. Try to be aware of a slide towards freak-out quicksand... observe and note reactions, moods, health care and whatever else I think is pertinent. Thus...
Tonight I consumed too many salicylates, amines, preservatives and glutamates. Yummy dumplings and sauvignon blanc. I now have itchy eyes. So I took a polaramine, to prevent a blow-up (never used to do this) with the cheeky knowledge it may help me sleep. I've been sleeping terribly. Apparently it's cool if I take a maximum of 2 temazapan a week - not necessarily at the same time with a bloody mary. Tonight I'm going to try a meditation CD before bed.
Over dinner I had a wonderful catch-up with an ultra-smart, warm, open darling of a woman. Probably my only friend that is significantly younger than me. I directed her acting in a film years ago. The conversation was stimulating, hilarious, nostalgic, thoughtful, ambitious and did me good.
I did my washing up tonight. Tick bloody tick. So much easier to accomplish when you're not actually cooking anything.
In terms of how I felt or reacted to things... I felt like I was sharp at the two meetings I had today. I felt sick in the stomach, annoyed at myself and embarassed as I arrived 20mins late for a doctor's appointment. She didn't punish me. She's a GP made in heaven. Couldn't give two hoots about the missed pap smear but the skin check is a curiousity to me.
Anyways, you don't want to know that. When I finally got back to the office at 4pm (after getting my head screwed on straight by the osteopath), I read a few emails. It took me a bit over an hour before I got into the swing of writing the treatment I have to write and then it was time to leave. I am trying to cultivate concentration and have noticed in the last two days I seem to have a concentration or focus 'spike' at around 530 / 6pm.
I told the friend all about the BG. Yes, I have reached threshold point and boiled over. I can't contain myself anymore. To close friends I reveal my excitement about this Saturday. The advice I got tonight which was magnificent is... all I have to decide at the date is if I want to see him again or not. Naturally I re-read his email and my response several times. I could choose to delete all our correspondence to date but I want to keep it. Maybe I'll print it out and bury it with the Shroud of Turin, so I have to tackle ancient spirits and really summon the will if I get the urge to re-read our electronic courtship. With every other boy/man to date I've deleted all his emails and sms. So much easier for my brain. I can't have heroin in the house and not dip into it for a taste.
I walked from St Kilda to Windsor. Need to start planning times to exercise. Not exercising amidst stress always is detrimental for me. Hopefully it will pay off in other ways too and I will feel more liberated throwing my clothes off when the mood dictates.
This has been a sloppy post, but hell... I'm a sloppy person.
There is fear in me, or should I say there was, until my Angel of a GP instilled confidence and strategy in me. Each time I have had a life-stopping 'flip-out' during the past 4 years it has been related to some hi-stress or confidence taxing work. I crumbled. I went to bed for days and my EX-partner had to dress me in his jacket and take me out into the backyard for some sun, whilst I cried in despair all the while. It was crazy. The GP rightly said that I'm not the same person anymore. I'm not the same person I was and I may not and probably won't react to stress in the same way I did many years ago. I get tight in the chest and eyes-swell just recalling these incidents or moods. I am definitely not the same person I was. The EX has missed out. I often think we took the worst years of each others' lives.
Anyway, I rant and rave and the purpose of this post is to start charting the next couple of months with simple observations, as per my doctor's advice. Try to be aware of a slide towards freak-out quicksand... observe and note reactions, moods, health care and whatever else I think is pertinent. Thus...
Tonight I consumed too many salicylates, amines, preservatives and glutamates. Yummy dumplings and sauvignon blanc. I now have itchy eyes. So I took a polaramine, to prevent a blow-up (never used to do this) with the cheeky knowledge it may help me sleep. I've been sleeping terribly. Apparently it's cool if I take a maximum of 2 temazapan a week - not necessarily at the same time with a bloody mary. Tonight I'm going to try a meditation CD before bed.
Over dinner I had a wonderful catch-up with an ultra-smart, warm, open darling of a woman. Probably my only friend that is significantly younger than me. I directed her acting in a film years ago. The conversation was stimulating, hilarious, nostalgic, thoughtful, ambitious and did me good.
I did my washing up tonight. Tick bloody tick. So much easier to accomplish when you're not actually cooking anything.
In terms of how I felt or reacted to things... I felt like I was sharp at the two meetings I had today. I felt sick in the stomach, annoyed at myself and embarassed as I arrived 20mins late for a doctor's appointment. She didn't punish me. She's a GP made in heaven. Couldn't give two hoots about the missed pap smear but the skin check is a curiousity to me.
Anyways, you don't want to know that. When I finally got back to the office at 4pm (after getting my head screwed on straight by the osteopath), I read a few emails. It took me a bit over an hour before I got into the swing of writing the treatment I have to write and then it was time to leave. I am trying to cultivate concentration and have noticed in the last two days I seem to have a concentration or focus 'spike' at around 530 / 6pm.
I told the friend all about the BG. Yes, I have reached threshold point and boiled over. I can't contain myself anymore. To close friends I reveal my excitement about this Saturday. The advice I got tonight which was magnificent is... all I have to decide at the date is if I want to see him again or not. Naturally I re-read his email and my response several times. I could choose to delete all our correspondence to date but I want to keep it. Maybe I'll print it out and bury it with the Shroud of Turin, so I have to tackle ancient spirits and really summon the will if I get the urge to re-read our electronic courtship. With every other boy/man to date I've deleted all his emails and sms. So much easier for my brain. I can't have heroin in the house and not dip into it for a taste.
I walked from St Kilda to Windsor. Need to start planning times to exercise. Not exercising amidst stress always is detrimental for me. Hopefully it will pay off in other ways too and I will feel more liberated throwing my clothes off when the mood dictates.
This has been a sloppy post, but hell... I'm a sloppy person.
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
Parental Financial Rescue
Think i've been rescued from another very close call. My dear Papa bear is wacking a short term loan in my account. Praise thee O Parental Financial Gods. I am a very lucky lady. I am a lady that is blatantly aware she needs to get her fiscal shit together asap.
I am tired. I work hard. I play hard. I eat chocolate lying on the loungeroom floor. I manage to scrape together enough energy and fortitude to complete a load of washing (through to the hanging-out part!!). Yes, I too will have clean undies tomorrow.
Got a call from the FB tonight. Uh-oh, razzamatazz. What have I got myself into? He's a sweetie and I feel so callous turning someone down because of their age or imperfect physical appearance. Uncharacteristically Shallow.
Boy-Genius, save me from this decision. Sweep me off my arse and carry me away to a place called destiny. Lets chink cocktail glasses and visit art galleries. So much easier to excuse or justify a rejection when someone else has trumped the play.
Thus, the same old problem has arisen of negotiating some kind of catch-up or date with someone you've already slept with. Modern day reverse and perverse romance. This is why I told myself I wasn't going to do it. New rule to be tested this weekend is to see if sex and alcohol can be locked up in different quarters.
Don't let her out!! She's a danger to staff and may maul the male patients!!
Must channel my softer, more well behaved, 'good with nuns' persona. I want to charm the pants off a boy whilst we're as sober as a pensioners' lunch at Sizzler. I want to be charmed and invited into someone's inner sanctum. My cubbyhouse is a fail-safe seduction tool, well it hammers the nail in the coffin once I've captured them and dragged them back to it. My apartment is decorated in a very personal and wanton way. Boys love it. The morning after they wander around, looking at things and asking questions. The VTL even took notes down in his sketch book for his upcoming renovation. This is of course an ego boost and seems to take their eyes and mind off my scurry to cover up my imperfect body. But will the seduction value of enticing a man back to my apartment on first meeting grow like compound interest if I keep the date chaste and sell my personality alone? Pray for my chastity this weekend. Pray for my self-confidence facing a very loaded and anticipated date. Pray that my skin stays clear.
Most importantly, delete this blog post now, click to a more important website and pray for world peace and equality.
I am tired. I work hard. I play hard. I eat chocolate lying on the loungeroom floor. I manage to scrape together enough energy and fortitude to complete a load of washing (through to the hanging-out part!!). Yes, I too will have clean undies tomorrow.
Got a call from the FB tonight. Uh-oh, razzamatazz. What have I got myself into? He's a sweetie and I feel so callous turning someone down because of their age or imperfect physical appearance. Uncharacteristically Shallow.
Boy-Genius, save me from this decision. Sweep me off my arse and carry me away to a place called destiny. Lets chink cocktail glasses and visit art galleries. So much easier to excuse or justify a rejection when someone else has trumped the play.
Thus, the same old problem has arisen of negotiating some kind of catch-up or date with someone you've already slept with. Modern day reverse and perverse romance. This is why I told myself I wasn't going to do it. New rule to be tested this weekend is to see if sex and alcohol can be locked up in different quarters.
Don't let her out!! She's a danger to staff and may maul the male patients!!
Must channel my softer, more well behaved, 'good with nuns' persona. I want to charm the pants off a boy whilst we're as sober as a pensioners' lunch at Sizzler. I want to be charmed and invited into someone's inner sanctum. My cubbyhouse is a fail-safe seduction tool, well it hammers the nail in the coffin once I've captured them and dragged them back to it. My apartment is decorated in a very personal and wanton way. Boys love it. The morning after they wander around, looking at things and asking questions. The VTL even took notes down in his sketch book for his upcoming renovation. This is of course an ego boost and seems to take their eyes and mind off my scurry to cover up my imperfect body. But will the seduction value of enticing a man back to my apartment on first meeting grow like compound interest if I keep the date chaste and sell my personality alone? Pray for my chastity this weekend. Pray for my self-confidence facing a very loaded and anticipated date. Pray that my skin stays clear.
Most importantly, delete this blog post now, click to a more important website and pray for world peace and equality.
Monday, 13 April 2009
Retrospective Stalking
Researching who I shagged on Thursday night via the ubiquitous researcher's tool - facebook. I had a documentary go to air a few days ago, so have had a somewhat hyped couple of days. The documentary drew responses from various men featured in this blog:
BOI (hadn't heard from him since last year)
OB (managed to write an SMS essay about film accessories he's searching for on ebay)
FB (friend's brother, the face I'm researching after Holy Thursday night)
BWBS (Boy with the bad surname aka original crush)
BG (Woo hoo. He watched it with his Mum)
Noticeable absentees:
EX (acceptable / forgivable - he spent 8 years stroking my ego and has seen the film a number of times)
FF (soon to be deleted as a facebook acquaintance. A mutual friend described him as emotionally retarded and said he needs someone like me. He can get fucked. Write me a 10,000 word apology and I'll reconsider)
VTL (said via faffbook he was going to watch it - but he's as unreliable as a Connex train)
Anyways, I digress. I'm doing fine. Just thought it's funny that they all came out of the woodwork. I'm drunk on Amy Winehouse. Trying to stabilise ahead of tentative 'date' with BG next weekend. Anything could happen. I could be appalled by his smoking. I could be appalled by anything. I could go out with him for a month or two then be appalled by something else. Low expectations my dear, get down low and go, go, go.
Alot happened on Thursday. Alot of work came in and auspicious things happened. The least auspicious and most unaligned with my ethics or Easter conscience was shagging the FB. Woops. I've since changed the rules. I think my policy was not clearly outlined or developed rigorously enough. I said I wouldn't meaninglessly shag someone again (especially on the first meeting). I did it anyway. Alcohol and abandon made me do it. Thus, the new rule is to not shag someone if alcohol is involved (the first time anyway). Is this ridiculous?! Is this sexual rhetoric? I carry on, the human experiment. I pash therefore I am.
BOI (hadn't heard from him since last year)
OB (managed to write an SMS essay about film accessories he's searching for on ebay)
FB (friend's brother, the face I'm researching after Holy Thursday night)
BWBS (Boy with the bad surname aka original crush)
BG (Woo hoo. He watched it with his Mum)
Noticeable absentees:
EX (acceptable / forgivable - he spent 8 years stroking my ego and has seen the film a number of times)
FF (soon to be deleted as a facebook acquaintance. A mutual friend described him as emotionally retarded and said he needs someone like me. He can get fucked. Write me a 10,000 word apology and I'll reconsider)
VTL (said via faffbook he was going to watch it - but he's as unreliable as a Connex train)
Anyways, I digress. I'm doing fine. Just thought it's funny that they all came out of the woodwork. I'm drunk on Amy Winehouse. Trying to stabilise ahead of tentative 'date' with BG next weekend. Anything could happen. I could be appalled by his smoking. I could be appalled by anything. I could go out with him for a month or two then be appalled by something else. Low expectations my dear, get down low and go, go, go.
Alot happened on Thursday. Alot of work came in and auspicious things happened. The least auspicious and most unaligned with my ethics or Easter conscience was shagging the FB. Woops. I've since changed the rules. I think my policy was not clearly outlined or developed rigorously enough. I said I wouldn't meaninglessly shag someone again (especially on the first meeting). I did it anyway. Alcohol and abandon made me do it. Thus, the new rule is to not shag someone if alcohol is involved (the first time anyway). Is this ridiculous?! Is this sexual rhetoric? I carry on, the human experiment. I pash therefore I am.
Monday, 6 April 2009
A Response
He replied, oh so graciously.
I was down in the dumps today. In the stench of a skip. I got a whiff of fresh air and positivity now and again and at the end of the day have now well and truly climbed up the grimy ladder and out of the bin. Unfortunately the BG's email is partially responsible for this.
In other more important news there's been a terrible earthquake in Italy. I didn't know Italy was so susceptible to earthquakes and had one in 1980 that killed 3000 and another in 1997 that destroyed ancient cultural ruins.
This is very bad news, but the world and my computer are full of captivating information and tasks. I really need to spend less time in front of the computer. Reckon my rhomboid eyes have clocked up at least 12 hours today. Ouch!!
It's a bit mesmerising, the bright screen and all the whizz-bang things the machine can do. Wish it would give me a shoulder massage when I turned my back to it.
Sweet dreams of screen-free days (or hours).
I was down in the dumps today. In the stench of a skip. I got a whiff of fresh air and positivity now and again and at the end of the day have now well and truly climbed up the grimy ladder and out of the bin. Unfortunately the BG's email is partially responsible for this.
In other more important news there's been a terrible earthquake in Italy. I didn't know Italy was so susceptible to earthquakes and had one in 1980 that killed 3000 and another in 1997 that destroyed ancient cultural ruins.
This is very bad news, but the world and my computer are full of captivating information and tasks. I really need to spend less time in front of the computer. Reckon my rhomboid eyes have clocked up at least 12 hours today. Ouch!!
It's a bit mesmerising, the bright screen and all the whizz-bang things the machine can do. Wish it would give me a shoulder massage when I turned my back to it.
Sweet dreams of screen-free days (or hours).
Sunday, 5 April 2009
Tax Return Loneliness
I'm feeling left out. Al Green is somewhat soothing me as I finally do my tax return, hoping for Rudd's $900 to hit me like a rescue pill.
I'm not part of a gang. This doesn't bother me as I have plenty of dear and lovely friends that warm my heart and make me giggle. But in the last few weeks I've been aware that I'm missing out on stuff. Missing out because I'm not part of one clique or another. Bullshit topic that only a lonely person dealing with 5kg of receipts would dwell on. I've never wanted to be part of a clique and prided myself on this at high-school. But now I just feel left out and am pondering whether it's any indication of my worthiness as a friend? Too self-focussed perhaps?!
I did the unthinkable. I couldn't last any longer and thought of throwing it out there to the gods. Loneliness and tax recording made me do it. I contacted the boy-genius. Reply, reply, reply!! Better still, call, call, call!! Lets make a date soon. Give me just enough notice to throw on a smashing outfit and disarm my nervousness.
Now I have loneliness and nervousness causing nauseousness. I don't even know how to end this post cheerily except that I didn't wake up with a hangover this morning and that's almost as good as waking up cuddling a skinny, smooth-skinned man.
I'm not part of a gang. This doesn't bother me as I have plenty of dear and lovely friends that warm my heart and make me giggle. But in the last few weeks I've been aware that I'm missing out on stuff. Missing out because I'm not part of one clique or another. Bullshit topic that only a lonely person dealing with 5kg of receipts would dwell on. I've never wanted to be part of a clique and prided myself on this at high-school. But now I just feel left out and am pondering whether it's any indication of my worthiness as a friend? Too self-focussed perhaps?!
I did the unthinkable. I couldn't last any longer and thought of throwing it out there to the gods. Loneliness and tax recording made me do it. I contacted the boy-genius. Reply, reply, reply!! Better still, call, call, call!! Lets make a date soon. Give me just enough notice to throw on a smashing outfit and disarm my nervousness.
Now I have loneliness and nervousness causing nauseousness. I don't even know how to end this post cheerily except that I didn't wake up with a hangover this morning and that's almost as good as waking up cuddling a skinny, smooth-skinned man.
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