The oddest week of all

The last week of the year, that week between Christmas and New Year, is the oddest week of all. It's a week made of the joys and disappointments of the year just gone, and the impending, onerous potential of the year to come. I hate New Year, I make no secret of this fact. And mostly that's made up of a fear of the pressure that the new year brings, especially as it's artificial. Just another midnight, rolling into another early morning. Also, there is a fear I can track from my deeply paranoid childhood, that this New Year's Day, the world truly will end.

But actually, this year has been pretty decent to me. If it ends, I'll be going out on a high. That makes me happy.

Spoilers

I go backwards and forwards about taking a blogging hiatus, but then I get sad about thinking about not contributing to this blog anymore, and then I write random crap to fill in a space.

Anyway.

Tonight I've been thinking about spoilers. I'm kind of control freak, and I accept this about myself. I'm getting better about dealing with uncertainties; in fact I even embrace them every so often. But it's hard. Not knowing how it all turns out is as terrifying as it is thrilling.

It takes every ounce of my self control sometimes not to peer at the end of a book, just to confirm the right person stays alive, or ends up with the right person, or just to confirm that the author is going to write crap all the way to the last sentence.

No peeking. Although in chivalrous literature, apparently the hero always peeks. Double standard.

What the hell have you been doing?!

Well, since you ask, and ask so nicely, I've been cleaning a lot of cat litter boxes. All December. It's my new thing.

Voiced

It fills my breath exhaled,
smoked down my shoulders, across my chest;
the words uttered now.
Formed past the tangle in throat, in mouth, in mind, in the dark knotted being that demands always silence inward.

Strained words, softly spoken, but now outward,
aloud and alive;
Dwelling themselves with others, who will absorb, ignore, scoff.
And perpetuate its life.

Violet Elizabeth

I've had a serious of brilliant meetings today, all to do with the project I'm about to leave. So much amazing work coming our way, and I'm going to miss it all. So like Violet Elizabeth I want to 'thcream and thcream until I'm thick'.

I know, I know, it'll be fine and worth it and I'll be grateful. But I think I'll sulk a bit into my tea tonight.

Today I'm one of those Russian Dolls

One fitting into the other; an understudy lurking behind me.

Paper

I've been keeping a diary pretty consistently since 2004. One of the sub-editors at my first job encouraged me to do it because, he said, I would regret it if I wasn't able to look back.

There's nothing particularly worth reading in these diaries, to be honest. It's mostly promises of new leaves and angst about being a failure. I never, ever, reread what I've written. I can't bring myself to turn the pages back to see what I was committing to paper two years ago. I don't want to destroy them though.

And more and more I can't bring myself to commit things to paper. I have my latest diary open to a page, and I scribble a date, and sit with a thousand thoughts waiting to be written. But I can't get them down.

I think that writing things down will make them real, and there are things I long for, or am denying, or am afraid of, that I don't want to be real quite yet, so I don't have to face up to them.

The thing that scares me most about my promotion

That they'll demand my iPad back.

*clings rebelliously to iPad*

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Promotion

So the thing that I've been working towards has come to pass - I've been promoted to project manager for a 6 month contract.

It's very exciting, but also scary and sad, because I need to leave my team and go down to one of the faculty teams, who do more conventional media production, and I'm worried that I don't know enough, won't know enough, and that I'll basically found out to be a fraud.

Like so many things, the thing that you want turns out to be bittersweet. But I'm looking forward to trying it out - I might really love it, and the bump in salary won't hurt.

So I got kittens

, a photo by liz_isabella on Flickr.

They've taken over my house and my life, but I'm told that's normal.

I've called them Samwise and Pippin, as hobbits seemed appropriate with the new movie coming out in December.

Love them already, the little fuzz balls.

Kicking ass, [changing] names

I've changed the name of this blog, having been The Inner Workings for quite a while. I'm going to live with it for a little while, see if I change my mind.

There's a lot of pressure associated with naming. But unlike cats and cars, my blog isn't going to reveal it's secret name to me.

If I could paint

I would paint a picture of red brick buildings set against an orange October sky.

Submerged

Water pools
beneath my ears, my heels, my elbows.
Spreads my hair like a fan,
rises to lap across my unfloating body,
unerringly flows into the spaces that join me with the
steeping ripples that flow on
and over.

Big things afoot

I have some big plans afoot, but I don't want to talk about them for fear of jinxing myself. But I'll know more soon.

Feeling flat

It's been a wringer of a week; stressful, sad, challenging, tiring, busy. I have a lot that I want to accomplish today, but I feel so hung over from the emotion of the week, I can't get started. I'm waiting to see if I get a second wind.

Literary attempts

I haven't got many literary attempts on this blog - two short stories (like, rilly, rilly short) and a handful of dodgy poems. But in the interest of organisation and also the hopes that I'll be motivated to put pen to paper more often, I've created a new page that collates all my literary type writing, so as to separate it from the bumpf of crap I write the rest of the time.

Enjoy!

Teaser Tuesday - July 24

I have a crazy number of books on the go right now, in various stages of interest and completion: Brighton Rock, by Graham Greene;  A Visit From The Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan;  The Children Of Men, by P.D. James;  D-Day June 6, 1944, by Stephen E. Ambrose; Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley; How We Die: Reflections on Life's Final Chapters, by Sherwin B. Nuland; Shogun, by James Clavell; Committed: A Love Story, by Elizabeth Gilbert; and Night Shadow, by Nora Roberts.


I keep allowing myself to get distracted from these, because a new release or an old favourite gets in the way. But I'm determined to finish these before I buy Moon over Soho, which is the second part of Ben Aaronovitch's series about wizard coppers in London, and which I'm loving. Plus, have to finish off some Blake for my next MA block.


Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly meme, hosted by Should Be Reading. Here are two sentences from Committed: A Love Story, by Elizabeth Gilbert, she of Eat, Pray, Love fame. It's...ok.

"When I posed the question again, another single friend replied, 'Wanting to get married, for me, is about a desire to feel chosen.' She went on to write that while the concept of building a life together with another adult was appealing, what really pulled at her heart was the desire for a wedding, a public event 'that will unequivocally prove to everyone, especially to myself, that I m precious enough to have been selected by somebody forever.'"

Saturday snapshot - July 21

A meme hosted by At Home With Books. I've picked up this photo because, well, it was one of the last I was able to take before all my cameras died. I really should get around to replacing them at some point.

It's July - nearly six months since I took this picture along a nearby canal. It was covered in snow. Six months to go and winter will be upon us again. But until then, it's semi-summer in Merrie Olde. 

Cricket

Oh how I love it.

I've travelled to Cork on business this week, and received amazing compliments from my boss, and been a good grown up, but really, being able to watch South Africa play England, this is the highlight of my week.

Back stories

On Friday night I went to a vinyl party hosted by a friend from work. There were a whole bunch of people I know from work there, scattered in age from about 31ish (me) to my friend Beccy, who just turned 40.

Age is a really nebulous thing at this point, I'm finding. Where ten years makes a difference between 20 and 30, between 30 and 40, ten years feels like nothing. Sometimes the cultural differences between me and people here make for a bigger gulfs than age ever could. And of course, being work colleagues, all on basically the same level and doing the same job, it's the great leveller.

Anyway, one of the woman there is doing a lot of Internet dating, and she showed us a picture of her latest, who she likes a lot and sounds really nice, and he looks so...much older. Like properly a whole generation older. But she's 36, so ten years from that is 46, heading for 50.

And then as people were chitchatting I realised one guy there had been married for nearly 20 years and has an 18 year old daughter (he got married at 20). And I thought, it's getting to that point now where everybody I meet, or am developing relationships with now, have back stories. And not just went to uni, got a job, emigrated to the UK back stories (like mine), but proper married/divorced/separated/has children from previous relationships back stories.

These are not bad things by any means, these details make people interesting, and layered, and human, and it doesn't really MATTER, when all is said and done. But I guess getting into the deep stuff with new people on this side of 30 is very different from marching alongside the people you met at university or grew through your 20s with.

I don't really have much back story (I could make one up, I guess, it would be much more interesting). And while that doesn't bother me at all, and I think I'm holding my own in this adult world, I worry that I'm being dismissed as naive or innocent by others along the way, or not being taken seriously. And you all know how dearly I like to be taken seriously.

I don't know. This is what happens when you don't follow traditional milestones - you end up being compared against them anyway, because that is the handy yardstick by which we are all measured.

Blissful buouancy

It was all awful and sticky tonight and I really couldn't face running (fine, slowly stumbling) for half an hour. So I finally went to Bletchley Leisure Centre for a swim, which I've been meaning to do for ages but have kept putting off. But the stars aligned tonight and I went along to their 9:30pm free swim and spent a blissful half hour awkwardly breastroking and crawling along. I only did 8 laps proper and then floated about, but damn it was nice. One of those things that you love doing, but forget you love when you don't make a point of going. And I got in for free: score!

Definitely have to do that again.

Sometimes my subconscious is boringly obvious

So last night I dreamt that I was trying to catch a flight out of a city that looked a lot like Luton, and that I just couldn't get to the airport. I kept walking up and down these streets and going into underground passages to try and get to the airport but I couldn't reach it. And then there was some kind of mass explosion  that trapped me and a bunch of kids and mostly everyone died and I still couldn't get to the airport.

Could it possibly be that my subconscious wants a holiday but it is being prevented from taking any time off by how much SHIT there is to DO?

Too bad, so sad, subconscious. You're just going to have to get through it all first.

Some days

Some days it's a good thing there is no-one else here, because it's a day where I think I would just explode thoughts and feelings and contact ALL OVER them. Not sad or bad thoughts and feelings, and not even lusty feelings (hi mum!) - just random rubbish. If someone was sitting on the couch with me right now, I would be narrating my thoughts at a 1000 miles per hour while gripping his hands with an iron death grip.

It's just that kind of day.

Ok, so with two c25k runs under my belt I can now definitively say...

...as work avoidance strategy, running is not half bad.

...my ankles burn.

...I am narrowly avoiding black eyes caused by the wild swinging of my capacious décolletage.

To do before my next run on Thursday:

- Finish essay.
- Stretch ankles.
- Strap boosies down.

Dreams

I spent last night wrapped in a dream that took me from the beginning all the way to the end of something. I feel like I lived a whole life in 10 hours. My subconscious is wrung out now.

Totting up the damage

I know, I'm a bit obsessed, but I'm trying to face facts here, and be brutal.

I've been storing all my sundry receipts this month, for cash and card transactions. I'm going to start doing this every month, and see what the damage is. These receipts include grocery shopping, petrol, meals out, trips to London, as well as just stuff, that I bought, because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Groceries: £150.98
Petrol: £50.81
Other: £245.83

That is just excruciating to read. Excruciating. I'd say a good £100 of that was just shit, bought along the way, which i don't even have a tangible memory of. Just a wrapper, chucked in a bin. Think what I could do with £245. That's a small fortune, that could pay half my rent. Disgusting.

Right. Renewed effort. I can have a nice time without tossing precious pennies away. I don't have to be housebound, but I need to stop wasting my hard earned cash.

Something to remember

Had a really interesting conversation with a friend yesterday, that made me reflective.

Here's the thing I need to remind myself of, when I start to get all pissy with myself for not being further along the grand life plan: I've only been at this for five years, really. When I came over here from SA, I started all over from scratch, with nothing. I didn't even have any savings.

So the work I'm doing now to make my bank balance healthier, and my slush funds slushier, and my emergency funds more robust, this is me still really working against all the costs it takes to set up your life again, from scratch.

And I'm doing it one salary. I REALLY need to stop giving myself such a hard time.

Sometimes friends offer wisdom at unexpectedly helpful times.

Things done today to further the 'I am a functional adult' agenda

Finally contacted the pension scheme I had with Evil Magazine, to see if I can roll it into my university pension scheme. I can. They're sending forms. Yay.

Look at me, preparing for the future. I'd much rather have the £3000 now, thanks.

Why I'm not married

I spend an inordinate amount of time explaining to people who feel like they have the right to ask, why I'm not married. Not not married yet, not married.

So I rather enjoyed this article from Jezebel (oh Jezebel, if only you were a little more consistently awesome, rather than so uneven): Ten very good reasons why you're not married.

My particular good reasons are summarised by 'You are focused on your career' and 'You have got a life and friends you are happy with'. And possibly a little of 'You have got standards', but my standard is usually 'hasn't been offered a good enough argument by [Interesting Hypothetical Guy] that changing the way I live my life is worth it'. And it would have to be a super argument. A really good one. With powerpoint slides and maybe a song.

Five years in numbers

In the five years I've lived in the UK:

- I have moved six times.
- I have lived with 11 people.
- I have had four jobs.
- I have had three cars.
- I have been to three weddings.
- I have been to one funeral.
- I have travelled to five countries.
- I have added one nephew to the collection.
- The longest I've lived in one place has been 3 years.
- The longest I've been in one job has been 2 years.

This was what I wrote the day I arrived: June 10, 2007.

A new low

Hear washing machine finish long wash cycle, go and retrieve enormous load of clothes, notice plastic doofy filled with Persil and fabric softener is still on counter. Swear, loudly. Load clothes back in. Start short wash cycle. Sulk.

It's a fiscal plan, Charlie Brown

I've just spent a very happy hour doing a chart prediction of how much I could save by this time next year, by incrementally increasing how much I save. I really, really want to get up to saving that magical 10% of my yearly salary number. I'm realising that this is not out of the realm of reason. I just have to stick with the budgeting, no matter how crabby and sobby it makes me. Having my calculations work out - that will be a great reward. Even if Murphy's Law says I will end up putting my precious savings into something annoying, like fixing my car or finally going to the dentist.

My point is, if I can just get into this habit now, I will a) be in a sensible place that means I'll never have to start OVER; b) never be rich, but always have a cushion instead of hording coppers; 3) have a good 30 or 40 years of saving time left.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

This year was supposed to be the magical threshold year, that gets me from managing, kind of, to financial confidence. It's so bloody boring, but it HAD to be done.

And the fact that I know for sure I won't have to change jobs and therefore salary any time soon? A sweet, glorious relief.

Three wasted days

Practically everyone has taken this week off, so the office is empty, empty. I felt sure that I would get LOTS done this week, what with the not getting bothered by anybody and all. Ha! I should know myself better by now, and should have just taken this week off.

As it is I have 12 days of leave left to take this year, and when exactly that is supposed to happen in between the deadlines and urgency, I have no idea.

So now it's Friday, and I have tons to do. I see a to do list in my future.

What I've been watching

Since I got an ipad through work, I've watched an inordinate amount of stuff via Lovefilm Instant. It's just so easy to stream! Especially after I increased my broadband allowance. Cough.

500 Days of Summer
I'm so disappointed in this movie. I expected to just love it - quirky characters, The Smiths on the soundtrack. These are key things on Liz's List for Pleasurable Viewing. But it was all way too self-consciously quirky and maudlin and just...blerg. Terrible movie. A colleague at work maintains that we're supposed to hate this movie, that the characters are deliberately annoying. Not so sure about that. That might be giving them too much credit.

Men in Black 3
You can't really go wrong with an MIB movie. Same formula, same jokes, good reliable humour. I liked it, it made me laugh.

Prometheus
Because I apparently live under a rock, I did not realise that this was a prequel to Alien/Aliens. So I thought I was TERRIBLY clever at picking up the Weyland reference, and the white Android blood. I thought my geek flag was flying high. And then it turned out that was the point all along and not a subtle reference to make me look good. Still an interesting movie though! I always enjoy it when aliens turn out to not be enlightened or friendly and actually just want to kill humans for their hubris instead. It's a fun alternative to the Happy Federation Families as seen in Star Trek. High points: Michael Fassbender as the creepy, perfect android and Noomi Rapace as an arse-kicking archaeologist. Low points: Charlize Theron, but she's always a low point. The movie raised some interesting ideas about intelligent design and meeting God and the notion of the great hereafter. But mostly it was an arse-kicking Aliens romp.

Friends with Benefits
Oh, Justin Timberlake. The only thing that makes me think that you're not a bad actor is the fact that you look and sound exactly the same in interviews, leading me to believe that you just ARE wooden and vapid. That said, I though Friends with Benefits was darn funny. Filthy funny, actually. And when I die, I want to come back as Mila Kunis's bum, because it is pretty perfect. And speaking of Mila Kunis, is it just me or is she suddenly everywhere? I watched an old teen flick the other day, and there she was! Bizarre. Anyway, I have this on DVD and I think I'll hang onto it for vapid, rainy day viewing.

Movies I've started watching but still not finished
RED
Ella Enchanted
The Runaways

What I've been reading

I've been puttering along, rereading old stuff and picking books up and putting them down again. I'm sure I've missed a few off my list, but in the interests of an actual post, here are the two latest complete titles I've read. Don't judge.

The Lucky One - Nicholas Sparks
I was roundly mocked for 'fessing up to reading this on Facebook. Not only do I have this book, I have the movie tie-in cover with Zac Efron on it. I hate movie tie-ins and I hate Nicholas Sparks, although The Notebook was not a terrible movie. But I quite enjoyed The Lucky One. It's gentle drama, not much depth to the characters and not much story. But sometimes a little gentle drama is just enough to keep your brain engaged for a day or so, and it served me well on a train trip back from London. I think I'll hang onto it, reread it another day.

Salmon Fishing in the Yemen - Paul Torday
This book had a similar effect on me as One Day by David Nicholls, which left me screeching in outrage. But where One Day seemed to have at least a vaguely dramatically substantial reason for the you-know-what at the end, Salmon Fishing seems to end with nobody very happy at all, no growth, no development, and everybody is screwed. So what is the point? If you're going to leave everybody high and dry at the end of the book, you need to the authorial chops to pull it off. I'm not asking for happy ever after here, I'm just asking for a little sense. I took a look at the movie synopsis of this book, and I actually think it looks better than the book. Now, how often do you hear me say that?

Books I still haven't finished (but WILL)
A Visit from the Goon Squad - Jennifer Egan
The Descendants - Kaui Hart Hemmings
Robinson Crusoe - Daniel Defoe

Gearing up to be irritated

I had to switch GP surgeries when I moved, which I wasn't happy about, because I loved my GP. Anyway, I need a fill up on various medications, which are a repeat, but I need to have my blood pressure checked. Also, one of my medications need to switch from syrup to tablet form.

I called in to request an appointment, and the woman at the front desk was so bloody obstructive. No, you don't need an appointment, you just have to come in and request it with a form. When I said I would need to have my blood pressure checked etc, she said I could do that with the machine in reception. I've tried that machine it doesn't work. Well you don't need a doctor to get your blood pressure done, come see a nurse. FiNE, I say, I don't care, just make an appointment. And prepare for my wrath on Monday when I try to get a repeat prescription over the counter and you try to give me that damned syrup again, which could have been avoided if you had just let me make a damn appointment.

This is going to go wrong, I'm expecting it to go wrong, and now I'm irritated in anticipation. But she would just not listen to me.

Dear Spambot

Your mechanical bull riding is not welcome here.

Although, I do wish I knew if it was a mechanical bull you were riding, or if you feel that your bull riding is mechanical.

Oh well, a question for the ether.

thanks anyway,

Liz

Songs on the first mixed CD I ever made for myself*

Circa 2001, so I would have been about 19 and in second year of university. I was crazy in love with my friend R, who had taken an LOA half way through the year and moved to the UK. And the Best Friend and I were in a constant state of warfare with another friend, except I don't think we realised that until much later. And I was clearly deeply consumed by navel gazing. Some would say full of emo claptrap. Or, you know, 19. I still listen to some of this, but genuinely some of these songs I had forgotten about, but as soon as I heard 'Outside', and 'Fine Again', I felt that intensity again. And then cringed and laughed, because come on! 'I'm on the outside, I'm looking in, I can see through you, see your true colours'. That's about as subtle as a cricket bat to the head.

I was reading somewhere that we cling to relationships and moments, even ones that have turned sour since, long after they've passed because we crave the dopamine hit we got the first time we experienced it. Maybe that's all our late teen, early 20s drama is. Addiction to strong hits of dopamine. Ah, those were the days...

Arms wide open - Creed
Higher - Creed
Stuck in a moment I can't get out of - U2
Hanging by a moment - Lifehouse
Kryptonite - Three Doors Down
Anthem for the year 2000 - Silverchair
Smells like teen spirit - Nirvana
Closing time - Semisonic
Semi-charmed life - Third Eye Blind
Good Riddance - Green Day
Wonderwall - Oasis
All star - Smashmouth
How you remind me - Nickleback
Outside - Staind
Slide - Goo Goo Dolls
Fine again - Seether
Everybody hurts - REM
Flavour of the week - American Hi-Fi
All the small things - Blink 182
The Hamster Dance Song - Because Dominic White was being Dominic White.

* I'm not including the heinous mixed tapes I made for myself in high school by recording Bryan Adams songs directly off KFM.

I've got your number...

...except that I don't.

I've had to replace my phone and lost all my numbers in the process. Some of you have sent your numbers, so thanks, but some are still missing. Like my sister. Ahem.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

I'm a little busy at present

Me (sitting down at my desk with a cup of coffee): Right, now I can review the book I’ve been trying to review all week!

English course that needs to be reviewed tomorrow pipes up: No, no, me first, me first.

Me: Buzz off, I need to finish this and then I’ll get to you…

Science course that needs to be reviewed by tomorrow pipes up: No, no, not him. Me! You need to pay attention to me! I’m more important!

Me: But you’ll only take 15 minutes which I don’t have right now but will have tomorrow. Now, shut up, I’m concentrating.

Schedule: Are you sure you don’t want to review me first? I mean, you’re going to lose track if you don’t update me.

Me: Stop with the distractions and let me finish this before I do lose track.

Emails: I’m an email! Yay! Pay attention to me! Wooohooo! I’m an email!

Phone: I never ring, but today I’m going to ring. Ringringringringringring.

Boss: I’m on holiday today but before I went I offloaded a bunch of ideas on your desk, which I’m sure you’ll be super excited about. They’re due next week. Yay! I’m on holiday!

Developers: We’re sitting on our hands doing fuck all so you don’t have to!

Meetings: We’re determined to keep you away from your desk for as long as possible. You can just think about all the stuff you have to do instead of actually doing it.

Dishes: It’s ok, ignore us, we’re just piling up collecting mould.

Washing: We’re happy here on the floor. At least we’re clean. Well, we think we’re clean.

Hamster (distorted by sawdust): Mmmmffffffff! Mmmmmfffff!

Bank account (emptily): I have nothing.

MA: Thought you’d lost me?! Well I’m still here! And you have 6500 words to make up, you here. Better get cracking.

Me: Sob.

Other boss: All right?

Me: Oh yes. Just peachy. Might need another coffee though.

I have about a million tiny things to tell you all...

...but I can't get my shit together for the 15 minutes it'll take to tell you all all about it.

Right now my brain is all cheese! book! shiny! ow, fell down! car! washing! meeting! TMA! avocado! movie!

I know, terribly intriguing. But I guess you'll just have to wait.

The good moments

I just wish sometimes that it was the bad moments that filled the cracks between the good moments, rather than the other way round.

That the weight of the voice that says, fuck, I'd don't know if I can do this today, this week, this month, this year wasn't quite so heavy.

That there was a little more progress, instead of a week's good work and then two weeks' worth of paralysis. And that I didn't know that 20 or 30 years from now, I'm going to be screaming at myself now, asking her desperately why she's wasting time, and not getting on with...everything. Because That Moment will come. Maybe that's what's stopping me from moving, becoming better, being a better person, a better worker, just generally better, rather than all promises and no delivery.

Fuck, I don't know. I'm so tired. I need a holiday. And I DON'T want to spend it brooding on my failures. Is there ever going to be ENOUGH?

Holiday first, brooding later. That's the deal.

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Easter Sunday

And suddenly what was dark and mournful and melancholy, is bright and new and full of light. I think I understand the melancholy more than the rejoicing.


It's easier to grasp sadness by the tail sometimes, I think, than trying to get a handle on resurrection and redemption.

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning."

Good Friday

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him."


And to the bizarre woman, who apparently thought I shouldn't be taking communion and should just ask for a blessing, and then DEMONSTRATED how in the aisle and totally killed my concentration, to her I say pfffffft, and wtf?

Things I learned on Maundy Thursday (or had forgotten and learned again)

That at the Last Supper, and through his time in Gethsemane, Jesus was surrounded by human frailty. He loves us in spite of our frailty, he died in spite of our frailty. Or because of it. Or for it. "We should love like that," the minister said. "But how do we love when we are broken?"


That taking communion on the night we remember the Last Supper is just FULL of poignance. The events that came after became so vivid, that Jesus moved from Passover to Gethsemane to betrayal. It made it riveting.


Watching the church being essentially readied for mourning was incredibly moving.


During the vigil, every ten or fifteen minutes there was another reading. People were free to leave at any time, but people left during the reading where Jesus asks his disciples why they can't just stay awake with him for one hour. That made an unexpected impression.


Every year I tend to go straight from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, from the entry to Jerusalem to the resurrection. It feels right, better even, to give every moment leading to the resurrection its proper weight, rather than rushing to the end. It's all in the layers, and I keep missing it. Plus, it seems to matter more this year.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things. Mary Oliver

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay

It's a bright, bright, bright sunshiney day

I've been feeling a bit off just lately. Sort of up and down, emotionally, like my highs are really high but my lows are really low. And like my defenses are way down, so I'm even more oversensitive and nitpicky than normal. Not in any terminal kind of way, but in an unsettled kind of way, because there's the potential of a dark place that I really never want to return to.

I went down with one of my friends at work to watch the inter-office footy; we were triumphant in a meeting I was dreading; we sloped off for an hour to Starbucks to have a coffee and a yak.

And it's warm and clear at the moment.

And I'm visiting The Parents for the weekend, and going to see M and browse Foyles on Saturday, and then it's a four day week and then lovely Easter lunch with the Ms and others, and then ANOTHER four day week with dinner at mine in there, and then it's a birthday party and then it's off to Wales for a long weekend, and then it's a whole, lovely week off, which I intend to spend sitting on The Parents' couch.

And yes, I have an essay to finish in there. And a lot of work coming down the pipe at me. And having kind of an intense time with my boss right now, who is a meteoric but likable pain in the arse. And, and, and. But at least I have stuff to look forward too as well. It makes the self-inflicted shit more bearable.

Travelling to the Belowplace

Skimming
transcluscent trails over a surface in thinly
this guarded space.

waiting

(so tired)

for the bubble's
gilded to break

for the sinking that will
follow

as each spindlelimb

is suckedsuckedsucked

through tiny crevasses.

Miniscule gaping miniscule traps into the thick

(so tired)

sticky fluid of the belowplace.

Teh internetz

I need to remember that 98% of people on the internetz are stupid and/or lying about their lives.

And I have to stay off the internetz.

This is when I'm grateful that I'm just the auntie

From The Sister's Facebook page:

"Words you don't want to hear when you've only had 3 hours sleep and are running late for the school run... 'Guess what, Mummy, I can count to 223, listen!'"

As Bridget Jones always says...

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.”
Dear Universe, I'd just like a little balance please! Thank you!

Woman in Black

Just in case you haven't seen my reviews anywhere else, I can summarise it thusly: terrifying.

I was a gibbering wreck throughout, and at one point I was gripping Hayley's hand so hard I thought my rings were going to cut off her fingers.

Great story though. Totally worth the terror. I can say that now. In the daytime. Brrrrrrrrr. 

Work life/real life/spiritual life collision

I had a very weird experience at church on Sunday. When I got to church I realised that one of my senior managers was there. He's the warden, which I did not know before I started going there. When I went up for communion, he was the one to give me the cup. "The blood of Christ," he said, giving me the cup. "Amen," I answered, all the while thinking, this feels so inappropriate. A few weeks ago I was in a meeting with you discussing money and resources and the future of my project. You approved my move from one department to the next. You know how much I get paid. And now you're part of a ritual I take part in to reaffirm my faith in Jesus?

It was so surreal.

The Librarian - Giuseppe Arcimboldo (1527-1593)

Dear Universe

I would like to feel properly well, please. Properly well. Not this half way between well and unwell, with a slight advantage to the unwell.

Useless Information - nearly SIX years later

I thought this might amuse my handful of readers. This was a blogpost I made on October 05, 2006. (I'm as surprised as anyone, by the way, that I'm still blogging after six years)

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Useless Information

I was tagged by Marissa to write down 20 random facts about myself, so here they are. I'm going to tag Kristy (so that she'll update) and anybody else who's keen. - Kris doesn't blog anymore and Marissa (AKA The Dude) is waiting for me to finish A Visit from the Goon Squad before she'll blog again. One of us is being held hostage, but it's unclear who...

1) I once almost chopped my left middle finger off with an axe. - Still true. I was about to say I haven't chopped anything off since, but in fact I sliced off the end of my left index finger off in an ill-conceived bread and butter pudding incident in 2009, so there's progress. I guess.
2) I sometimes sing to myself before going to sleep. - Not so much anymore. Singing used to help my insomnia as I vainly tried to fall asleep. Now I don't bother, and just stay up. Although I don't get insomnia nearly as much as I used to. My vastly reduced anxieties prefer to visit me in the daytime nowadays, and don't haunt me at night.
3) I like skipping and hopping down passages. - Still do this, but English houses aren't really big enough for a proper hop or skip.
4) I like to imagine my funeral, and regularly write my eulogies. - I've stopped writing my own and am now writing my friends'.
5) I have flat feet and can go through a pair of shoes in less than six months. - Three months, in the case of Sainsbury's black pumps.
6) I practice what I'm going to say before I speak on the phone, because otherwise I get tongue-tied. A great bonus for a journalist. - I still practise what I'm going to say before picking up the phone, but I'm no longer a journalist.
7)The first dream I remember having was when I was four. I was trapped in a house full of white statues and their arms kept falling off. - This dream still has the power to freak me out, 26 years later.
8) I have a little sniffle everytime I look at a picture or video of my nephew. - Both of them, now.
9) I've always wanted to play the piano. - I'm a little closer to this, as I found out you can use the practice rooms on campus for free if you prebook the space.
10) I like slogan tshirts and want an entire collection. - I've added two to the collection in the last six years. My cajungas are not conducive to slogan wearing, but I love them all the same.
11) I can't do Embrace the tiger, Return to the mountain in taichi without falling over. - I can't do any tai chi, anymore, without falling over.
12) Berg winds make me grumpy and aggro. - I haven't felt a berg wind in nearly five years, but I think they still have the potential to piss me off.
13) I have fake eardrums. - Still true
14) I bruise like a peach. - True, true, true.
15) I enjoy telling really bad jokes because they get a great reaction. - I don't tell as many anymore, because I don't remember them. When did that happen?
16) I really love making an entire room of people laugh. - I still enjoy it when this happens, but I hope - hope - that the desperate edge to my desire to do this has faded. I think the last time was at New Year, when I had dinner with Margaret's interesting family, and I could feel myself saying more and more stupid and awkward things. I collected myself and then it went better by the end of the evening. But thankfully that doesn't happen ALL THE TIME anymore. Aaah, age.
17) I often feel that my entire life is a dream and I will be waking up at any second. - I don't want to wake up from my life anymore; if this is a dream, it's an awesome one.
18) I have a birthmark that stretches around my middle. - Birthmark is still in place.
19) I try not to cry in movies because I'm afraid people will laugh. - Now I just cry...but I do it ironically. Cough.
20) I like going to movies on my own. - Thankfully, still true.

PATTOTE: Better living through information you can now use against me. - Ah, PATTOTE. It's been a while.

Permanency

When I was at Homebase and loathing my job, my friend PA told me that since I was interested in publishing, and looking about for something new, maybe I should check out the OU. The OU? said I. Hmmmm. I started to do a bit of investigating, and it did look pretty good, but no job vacancies to be had. Then, after six months of penance in Retail Hell, the agency called and said that a short-term contract had come up at "a distance learning university". My chance, I thought, it's come!

It's weird that the only two risks I've ever taken in my life have been work related. Risk number one was not taking back my notice at Inside Housing, when the perfect job in Birmingham went under. That was largely motivated by pride, to be honest. I could not face asking for my much loathed job back. And, too my surprise, The Parents backed me up. Maybe they knew how unhappy I had been at work, I don't know. Unemployment didn't exactly last (two days), and then Homebase came up.

My second risk was taking the job at the OU at all. Three months is nothing, really. I had a feeling that if I took the contract and it ended, chances were good that Homebase would take me back. But thankfully, it was extended to six months. And then it was extended to a year. And then for another year. Since my very first day here I've known that I want to stay here. The potential for growth is just so amazing, and the opportunities for doing interesting things just keep coming up. Even when I was in my relatively boring business school role, I knew that I wanted to stick with the OU, and make it work for the long-term.

And now I have it, my lovely permanent job. I feel relief in every fibre of my being. Knowing that I won't need to go out there and find another job, because I've found my niche? That's just priceless.

Postcards

I'm thinking about you. What else can I say?
The palm trees on the reverse
are a delusion; so is the pink sand.
What we have are the usual
fractured coke bottles and the smell
of backed-up drains, too sweet,
like a mango on the verge
of rot, which we have also.
The air clear sweat, mosquitoes
& their tracks; birds & elusive.

Time comes in waves here, a sickness, one
day after the other rolling on;
I move up, it's called
awake, then down into the uneasy
nights but never
forward. The roosters crow
for hours before dawn, and a prodded
child howls & howls
on the pocked road to school.
In the hold with the baggage
there are two prisoners,
their heads shaved by bayonets, & ten crates
of queasy chicks. Each spring
there's race of cripples, from the store
to the church. This is the sort of junk
I carry with me; and a clipping
about democracy from the local paper.

Outside the window
they're building the damn hotel,
nail by nail, someone's
crumbling dream. A universe that includes you
can't be all bad, but
does it? At this distance
you're a mirage, a glossy image
fixed in the posture
of the last time I saw you.
Turn you over, there's the place
for the address. Wish you were
here. Love comes
in waves like the ocean, a sickness which goes on
& on, a hollow cave
in the head, filling & pounding, a kicked ear.
Margaret Atwood

Flapjacks

When I lived in The Worst Digs In The Whole World, Leigh used to cheer us up on a Sunday evening by making flapjacks (dropscones, I'd call them, but chef's prerogative). She would slave over the stove, frying them up. I would stand at the counter or sit at the horrifying glass table with the saggy chairs, and gobble them up as quickly as she cooked them. I really want some damn flapjacksdropscones.

A few reviews

Things I've read:

Irish Rebel

Classic, formulaic Nora Roberts. I didn't realise that this was number three in a series. I loathe reading books out of order, so I'm a little annoyed about that. This is one of her Silhoutte efforts, so it's fairly short and light. A little bit of steam though. And some horses. Not together, obviously, that's a genre Nora Roberts wouldn't touch with a barge pole.

Love Me, Love Me Not

I'm almost embarrassed to tell you how long this has been sitting on my TBR pile - a long, long time. It's a compilation of short stories from various authors. It's quite the hit parade of well known names, and there are some really super stories. There is a fair amount of sap, too, but then, it is a collection of stories about love. The gems are all the more brilliant for that. And not all have happy endings, which is even better.


Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Confession time. I have been meaning to read this book for a long, long time. I didn't actually know what it was about, but I had heard great things. On Friday I went to the cinema to see Like Crazy, and what should I see but a trailer for Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Oh, I say to myself, I'll have to read that now. Can't see the movie if I haven't read the book (that's the rule). And then I thought, damn, going to have to buy it, but I'm not allowed to buy another book until after I've finished my next essay and done the required reading for Coriolanus (that's another rule, and there are at least three books I want so you can see how hard this is going to be). And then after the movie I went home and was admiring my bookshelves (...shut up...) what should I discover but a copy of...Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. No, I don't know when I bought it either. It was terribly good though. I can usually separate myself from my experience of reading a book. I feel the book, but usually I'm quite dispassionate about it as I think about it in the real world. But this book...it didn't upset me, exactly, and it didn't give me bad dreams. But I had sad, unexplained dreams, and that was almost worse. A really complicated, painful, sad, enjoyable read.

Things I've watched

Like Crazy

This is what I wrote about this movie on the forum I post to:

English girl in US meets guy, overstays student visa, much angst and separation as she is deported, they get married in the UK, US still denies her a visa, angst, angst, angst, the end. It was VERY emo. I thought the dialogue was very realistic, and very well paced. But it also reminded me excruciatingly of that phase we all go through in our early 20s, when we have those insanely dramatic and cringey relationships, with dramatic and cringey speeches and cutesy witticisms and ugh, I'm glad that's all over. She totally deserved to get deported, by the way, she knowingly overstayed her visa, and as we all know, You Do Not Fuck With The State Department or The Home Office, no matter how much you want to stay on Catalina Island and sleep with your emo, furniture designing boyfriend.

Perhaps I'm just too old and decrepit and cynical for a movie like this..


Whip It

I'm not sure I could even tell you the names of the characters, the movie is a bit of a blur. I think I enjoyed it, but I watched as I was editing something, and then it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps I need to watch it again and provide a better review. I do like Ellen Page, although she always seems to play another version of Juno.

Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows 


Sigh. I enjoyed the first reversioned Sherlock Holmes a ton - I really liked Jude Law and Robert Downey Jr, and what they did with the characters. Big fan. But I fear I have been ruined for all non-Stephen Moffat versions of Sherlock Holmes forever. The fact that this movie deals with Reichenbach Falls didn't help - I could kick myself for not going to see the movie when it first came out. Then at least I could distance myself from the different interpretations of these characters.

The Sister says I have bad car-ma

I just want to fall to the ground, kicking and screaming. Possibly going all stiff so no-one can pick me up. Except that for all I'm 30 years old, The Father would still wallop me for a tantrum.

Feeling obligated

I know, I know, we've just had a nice holiday. But even then, as relaxed as I felt, part of me was thinking about all the things I wasn't doing, all those obligations. Sometimes I feel like for every five minutes I sit on the couch and watch The Big Bang Theory, there's an hour's worth of tidying or studying or reading or walking or learning or editing or working or studying or writing or cleaning that I really, really should be doing.

I'm trying to fix this with a Big Ass Task List at home and a Big Ass Task List at work and a Big Ass Study Calendar for The Thing and my Big Ass Rota for tidying. But inertia wants to win in the worst possible way.

Dear car battery

I hate you. And I hate your sense of timing.

You suck.

Love and kisses

Liz

A sad day for independence

By chance I logged into my work email while I was still in bed at 9:05 this morning. As you all know, my work habits are start late, work late, as my brain doesn't fully engage until around 10am.

Anyway, I checked my email by chance this morning and, wouldn't you believe it, my boss sent an email at 10pm last night scheduling a meeting for 9:30 this morning. It's a GOOD THING my commute is only five minutes.

So I have officially synched my work email to my Blackberry so I don't get anymore unpleasant surprises, especially since work is going to be hectic and all consuming until at least March. But I'm feeling a bit sad as well, because really, who wants an email from my curmudgeon of a boss at 11pm?

Sigh.

The Flat of Awesomeness (or, The Awesome Flat)

Shit pics follow, because let me tell you, Blackberry cameras suck.

The door opens into the Flat of Awesomeness.

 Is it a boxroom? Is it a study? Is it a boxroom? Is it a study?

Living room from different angles, including awesome lamp Leigh lugged all the way from Malawi.

Preparing for The Deluge (or, Happy New Year everyone!)

As I was explaining to my poor friend Margaret, who made the mistake of asking me how I was, I've only made one New Year's resolution for 2012, and that was to prepare for the deluge.

Sounds pessimistic, but I don't mean it negatively. Rather, I spent a lot of 2011 on the backfoot, so this year I'm going to do everything I can to put myself in a position that when disasters happen, I'm equipped to deal with them.

Car breaks? Got the means to fix it. Feeling insolvent? Take the steps necessary to feel more in control. Feeling dissatisfied? Got the ability to take myself away for a day, or go for a meal, or watch a movie and feel better. Feeling disconnected? Be a better sister/daughter/friend so I can embrace support more freely. Feeling unhealthy and sluggish? Be able to do something about it.

A cunning plan, I haz one.