Something different

Tomorrow marks my last day of holidays. I don't particularly want to go back. I've had a fantastic time doing nothing over the last 11 days. I've naturally gone back to my uni body clock. It took all of two days. Sleep til midday, have breakfast, do something for the afternoon (in this case go to the city and do touristy things), come home, watch TV or DVDs til about 2am. Sleep.

I love to sleep. It would have to be one of my favourite past times. Maybe not the whole sleep thing, but being in bed, just lazing there and looking at the clock. So long as your sheets are fresh and its not too hot, I could do it all day. Just me and the cats. If I was dating it would be me and the boy. No sex involved. Just the feel of skin and cloth, comfortable smells, stubble. Closeness.

In the last 11 days I've lost 7 kilos. About 15 pounds for those playing overseas. I've been having diet smoothies at about 1 to 2 pm for breakfast, and maybe a coffee or something late in the afternoon. Usually sitting down by Darling Harbour, watching the seagulls, turtles and people. Just by myself, just sitting, just watching. At these times I savour my drink. Take small sips every now and again. Its cold by the time I finish, but more enjoyable. And after the train ride home I forget to eat dinner.

I got told I look fantastic today. Well, fantastic compared to what I used to be. I really needed the time off. Despite finding out that two guys I like and thought I was getting close to aren't in a position to date. Yess, there was another. No he's not available. I'm beginning to think that nice, single, smart and reasonably attractive guys are a myth. I have a better chance of being eaten by a shark than meeting someone who can love me. And I am NOT a beach person.

I was missing something. I think I have figured out what it is. I am feeling cramped and boxed in. I need to get out and DANCE. Not proper dancing. Just get out and moove to the music. I have a new favourite song. Alice Cooper's "Poison". Yes, almost 20 years after it was released. I get the irony. But every time I hear that song I dance. Just shut my eyes and move. Do whatever I want to. I can't help it. And when its over I put it back on. Its better than wearing out batteries.

Mardi Gras is this weekend. I'm supposed to be working but I asked to have it off before I left. This should definitely scratch that itch. But then there is a problem. Scratching the itch usually leads to the rash being spread. I am tempted to call SR, just for something to do, a bit of excitement. I figure if nice single guys are a fairy tale, then I might as well have myself an arsehole on speed dial for the occasional screaming orgasm. But I know he will not answer his phone. I want to find someone else, but don't want it to be someone that I don't know. I know its crazy. I'm female. I'm not allowed to make sense.

Google

I'm drunk, and bored. So I played with Google. Whatawaste is there. Hot as ever. I even googled SR and his brother. Since SR was a model you'd expect there to be pictures. Theres not. Shame. He was teh hotness. There is a pic of his brother though. *drools at thought of his perfectly gropable butt*

Hands up if you need to get laid.

*waves hand*

I'm on there. But not as me. Well, once. I'm on there for something that... is irrelevant really. Some people might want to be there, but its not something I'd like to be remembered for.When I was at uni I had my own article on one of the major pages. Guess its not there anymore.

I am here as me though. 'Me' being here. As myself, my own name, I don't apparently exist. But as 'me' I'm here. It sucks. 1,500 times over. Apparently my 'net identity is a bit of a slut.

The fisrt actual reference to this actual site is one of my archives, was this. Which made me more depressed.

And then this followed it immediately after. Which made me laugh.

I'm missing something. Deep inside. And I want it back. But I don't know what it was in the first place. I think I'll spend my life looking for something that I can function perfectly fine without.

A little piece of my sadness

I went to the powerhouse museum today. It was fantastic. But quite sad for me really. It made me think of my Nan. She died when I was 16. She used to live in the granny flat behind our house, when my parents were still together. My mum was her carer. When she died my Grandpa lived there for a few more years, but his alziemers made him difficult to deal with, so he went into a nursing home. All of their stuff was packed away and moved into our house, and a boarder took over the flat.

When my parents separated my Mum took what she absolutely needed and moved out. My Dad didn't care about anything in the house. He let his second-wife-to-be go through the house, and anything that she didn't want went straight into the skiff bin. Alot of this stuff was irreplacable. Including

• All of the medallions I'd won for academic success at high school
• Photographs. All of the photographs - his wedding pictures, pictures of his dead mother and nephew, family pictures etc
• Furniture

My Nan collected nick nacks. Well. I say she collected them, but us kids bought her stuff too. I have that from her. If it gathers dust I'll collect it. She had beautiful matching cups and suacers. Probably worth quite a bit of money. I have no idea where they are now. There was a gorgeous antique salmon velvet chair. That was DEFINITELY worth ALOT of money. I have no idea what happened to it. My collectibles. If I hadn't taken it to uni (and who takes anything of value to uni), it was gone. I had a set of ebony and ivory elephants that came from my Nans sister when she died. Gone. The school photos, certifiactes and reports for me, my brother and my sister, from prep to year 12. Same deal with them. I had an extensive collection of plastic horses. There was a quilt cover that was distinctly mine. A gorgeous jungle setting with beautiful red parrots. The embriodery that my nan did. The jewellery that we'd inherited. A longstitch kit that I'd done of two puppies. I'd spent painstaking hours sitting with Nan at night, watching tv, eating Darrell Lea peanut brittle and sewing. Gone. All gone.

Some of the stuff turned up at an ex friend of mines house. One of my longstich tapestries, my Dad's beer brewing cupboard, my Nans deep freeze that she used to store her specialty stewed apples in. That thing must have been as old as me. Her electric fry pan. They knew that seeing all of this stuff at their place got to me. And they were generally ok about it. They offered to give me back the longstitches. But I couldn't take it. It wasn't the same. And it wasn't the special one.

My sister, who worked with him on a daily basis, didn't know what was happening. The 'friends' of mine who acquired so much furniture rang her and told her what was going. And she left work immediately to go collect what she could. She managed to salvage some photos, and my academic medallions. I have no idea what happened to my brother or sisters medallions.

I think that is part of the reason that I will put up with, tolerate and forgive so much. What will lead others to scream "Arsehole" will simply garner a shrug from me. Because until someone does something completely unforgivable, they cannot equal some of the stuff others have already done.

Just one more time

Ok. I know I said I wouldn't. But I make no apologies for this.

Since I last blogged it, I have spoken to WhataWaste (as named by Cazzie!!!). I have a morbid phobia of awkwardness. So when he came down to do some work where I am, I really tried to make it as normal as possible. And just before he left to go back to his own world, he mentioned that we still had to catch up for drinks after work sometime.

And I thought: Yeah. He's still interested. Kinda lazy and unmotivated, but interested.

I sent him a text today letting him know I would be in the city pretty much every day until I went back to work, if it was more convenient for him to catch up there. And I got a reply. He's busy weeknights, maybe next weekend. He has plans for this weekend already...



....



he's going camping with his GIRLFRIEND!!!


Uh. Ok. Here's my freshly torn out heart. Its very small because you took it from someone who feels about 1.5 inches tall.

All I know is that if I were his girlfriend and I saw the texts I'd sent him trying to arrange us meeting up, I'd do my 'nana*. He's had plenty of chances to tell me that he was seeing someone. Such as

• When I was fishing for info about who he spent New Years with ('mostly older people')
• The time I joked about him not getting any on his birthday
• The day after Valentines. WHEN WE WERE TALKING ABOUT WHAT WE DID THE NIGHT BEFORE.

I wouldn't date a guy like that anyway.

*'nana = some obscure Aussie reference to a tantrum. Pronounced like the last bit of banana. Hence the ' in front.