jueves, junio 29, 2006
have bene shocked by how much i have enjoyed the world cup so far...not been getting carried away, and certainly am maintaining staunch realism about england's slim chances of being good enough to win it, but nonetheless am firmly in the spirit of the thing, and am therefore suffering from Wimbledon Tedium Syndrome since tennis is, frankly, shit watching after football, which is turn is still a slightly poor summertime subsitute for rubgy, but i shan't moan about that because i shall get yelled at or some other such rubbish but anyway, i am enjoying it
and no-one is more surprised than me....!
and no-one is more surprised than me....!
so i finished my ten-week-work embargo...i knew about a week before that god was saying to fight my way out of it and to ensure that i had done what the time had been set aside for me to do...so the aforementioned joy dawson book was a big help, and i ended the happy, sunny days of lunch club, afternoons with fran, stoop-sitting, house-painting, house-cleaning, oswald-reading and penny (as in money, not mrs w)-saving and opted for the miraculous employment which is detailed below....
i would like now to offer a huge and hug-ful thank you to those who fed, prayed with, sat with and suburbed with me during the ten weeks that would have been alot harder if god had just put me to task in them and not allowed it to be such fun...emma, fran, matt, kat and josh, penny and the girls, iain, cate, mattie...! all good day-time pals at times, at the time, merci beaucoup, mes amies....
big thanks, too, to the sun, for making me brown in my unemployment....it sure was worth it...
and to the lord for the gift of being fed and looked after while not earning, and for the lessons along the way....
i would like now to offer a huge and hug-ful thank you to those who fed, prayed with, sat with and suburbed with me during the ten weeks that would have been alot harder if god had just put me to task in them and not allowed it to be such fun...emma, fran, matt, kat and josh, penny and the girls, iain, cate, mattie...! all good day-time pals at times, at the time, merci beaucoup, mes amies....
big thanks, too, to the sun, for making me brown in my unemployment....it sure was worth it...
and to the lord for the gift of being fed and looked after while not earning, and for the lessons along the way....
besides which i got a better idea... .....after the sheer madness of the -european urban cultures ma- idea, which was brought swiftly and painlessly to a close by the pienaars and their shrewd and honest questioning one aftenroon about the time i last posted (mrs p-this is absurd, why would you, you, want to study cities?! you've never been about cities! it makes no sense!-), (tom-so come on then, what do you want? what do you really want to do?!, no more dumbing yourself down and finding the easy ideas, what do you want to do , because we think you're capable-). something wierd happened that afternoon, where i honestly said the things that, intelligence, training and money aside, i actually wish i were doing with my life. and they let me think it....they added to it and questioned parts of it. and it all comes back to advocacy.... so they went away that evening, and i went to my room and prayed away a spirit of distraction in my life, which had lead me originally to the absurd european cultures idea...so that was gone, in a flash. then that evening, i wrote The List. I will write The List on here one day when i have a bit more time, but for me it was, over a bottle of pinot grigio and a couple of rollies, the greatest release of truthful ideas about me that i can remember letting happen. it was ace...the things i want to do, see and become, the things i know i am called to and the ways i want most to be effective and loving. i recommend personal, insightful list-writing. that very same night, when The List was done, I found out about The Job
which is now mine, after praying, fasting, applying, interviewing and more praying, its mine. I, as of july 24th will work at moutard arbre and boy am i nervous, but also thrilled to have such a brilliant opportunity to learn, and to use the skills that i know i have, but have never got to use before in work cos of having shite jobs since i left university....
thanks jesus, you know i'm gonna need you for this one, right....?
thanks jesus, you know i'm gonna need you for this one, right....?
also i have been listening long and often to the -human- album by nitin sawhney, which i bought as soon as i heard it was out, a couple of years ago, and for some bizarre reason have never actually got round to listening to it. cate played it on her puter at sal's the other week, and i kept finding myself tuning out of conversations, listening intently to this music coming out to the garden from the lounge....after a while i gave up attempts at concentration on other things and went and sat me down right by the stereo, leaving everyone outside and happy just to listen to such beautiful songs.
i realise it is far from new, but to my own ears, it is the best new thing they have heard for a very long time.
i realise it is far from new, but to my own ears, it is the best new thing they have heard for a very long time.
another Thing is that i have been working at the salford foyer...whic means a supported housing project for young people...which means kids that are all young and have either been homeless or in care or just thrown out of home.....when i am there, i feel the most southern, the most posh, the most schooled and the most irrelevant and sometimes ignorant i have ever felt in one combination of a seven-and-a-half hour day. this combination is unnervingly and constantly good for me. the timing of this job is one of the most crazy signs of god's miraculous provision, and also, again, a huge indication that he doesn't ever just want us to work soley to make money but also to strech us, show up our weaknesses, make friends with people...learn lots of things...he sure thinks of everything!
jueves, junio 01, 2006
book house rules..
so i went to buxton with sal on saturday..indeed, i hear you cry -hurrah!- the return of the super sal saturday, no need for incriminating surnames or entirely transparent child-proof code...
the saturday returned...
having stayed up til four with da costa and the exiting hair-twists, i was weary..we made it over in time for may to do the hair, i consulted with may about the colours and all looked to be well...i set off on my own small tour of the town i have now been to twice....i remembered where everything was, i know, very unlike me, and generally mooched around....i had that lovely sensation of....being out in the really rather cold, knowing that any minute now, i shall be indoors, with coffee and cake..and hopefully a cigarette..and definitely a book....little did i know the further delights that awaited me....
i went first to catherine and pete's, and was half-sad, half-happy to find they were out...
mooching on round the hill further i found a place named scrivener''s bookshop. and oh the joy and wonder....rivalled in recent times only by the green necklace of same.
all books are second hand (i heard a lady ask the old man, mr scrivener, one assumes, -do you only sell second hand books?- -if we can help it, yes- he replied, not knowing if she could really see the tiny corner-mouth smile that gave away the humour underneath the solemnity). when i later handed over my henry james book for paying he asked if i would be reading it aloud in an american accent, as he imagined that would help......i liked the old man so much that i was a bit flustered and murmered something about that not helping and left.....in between the arriving and the buying though, i went to the first floor.....
it was named the fiction and children's floor....so i pottered...i also spied coffee cups on tables...and something like cake under a cake-covering thing..and a girl who looked so far through her book that she must surely have worked there...turns out she did, and after laughing at my gasping at her good fortune to work in such a place, she made me coffee and got me some cake and all for one-pounds-fifty-pence....i thought perhaps the day could get no better...it did..she left...and then i had the whole higgledy-piggledy room, books falling everywhere, all book-smelling and old..to my big fat self and i got the sofa and then i was in an alcove, surrounded on three sides by books, and eating my cake and reading henry james...
done, settled
and then the next thing, my head was aware of familiar things around me, colours of book spines and words jumping out at me...i looked harder and found that the three sides of books around me in my alcove were no ordinary three sides of books, but three sides of books all written by enid blyton.......well, you can imagine! -up the faraway tree- was in my hand in a flash and then it was like 1989 and i was as happy as the 1989 version of myself....or maybe more.
so there you have it. my book cost me two pounds, the hour on the sofa one pound fifty for cofee and cake. you can get to buxton with sal anytime she's due a haircut....just tell her her hair looks a mess and convince her she should go back to see may, but only ever on a tuesday or saturday ten while four because that's when the girl is there with the cake and coffee....k?
brill....
anyway it was a right special treat of a time in the book shop....and lunch was lovely with sal and her new hair..and the drive back with stoney on the i-pod in the car going over the hills was lovelier still.....
saturdays.......good thinking god...
the saturday returned...
having stayed up til four with da costa and the exiting hair-twists, i was weary..we made it over in time for may to do the hair, i consulted with may about the colours and all looked to be well...i set off on my own small tour of the town i have now been to twice....i remembered where everything was, i know, very unlike me, and generally mooched around....i had that lovely sensation of....being out in the really rather cold, knowing that any minute now, i shall be indoors, with coffee and cake..and hopefully a cigarette..and definitely a book....little did i know the further delights that awaited me....
i went first to catherine and pete's, and was half-sad, half-happy to find they were out...
mooching on round the hill further i found a place named scrivener''s bookshop. and oh the joy and wonder....rivalled in recent times only by the green necklace of same.
all books are second hand (i heard a lady ask the old man, mr scrivener, one assumes, -do you only sell second hand books?- -if we can help it, yes- he replied, not knowing if she could really see the tiny corner-mouth smile that gave away the humour underneath the solemnity). when i later handed over my henry james book for paying he asked if i would be reading it aloud in an american accent, as he imagined that would help......i liked the old man so much that i was a bit flustered and murmered something about that not helping and left.....in between the arriving and the buying though, i went to the first floor.....
it was named the fiction and children's floor....so i pottered...i also spied coffee cups on tables...and something like cake under a cake-covering thing..and a girl who looked so far through her book that she must surely have worked there...turns out she did, and after laughing at my gasping at her good fortune to work in such a place, she made me coffee and got me some cake and all for one-pounds-fifty-pence....i thought perhaps the day could get no better...it did..she left...and then i had the whole higgledy-piggledy room, books falling everywhere, all book-smelling and old..to my big fat self and i got the sofa and then i was in an alcove, surrounded on three sides by books, and eating my cake and reading henry james...
done, settled
and then the next thing, my head was aware of familiar things around me, colours of book spines and words jumping out at me...i looked harder and found that the three sides of books around me in my alcove were no ordinary three sides of books, but three sides of books all written by enid blyton.......well, you can imagine! -up the faraway tree- was in my hand in a flash and then it was like 1989 and i was as happy as the 1989 version of myself....or maybe more.
so there you have it. my book cost me two pounds, the hour on the sofa one pound fifty for cofee and cake. you can get to buxton with sal anytime she's due a haircut....just tell her her hair looks a mess and convince her she should go back to see may, but only ever on a tuesday or saturday ten while four because that's when the girl is there with the cake and coffee....k?
brill....
anyway it was a right special treat of a time in the book shop....and lunch was lovely with sal and her new hair..and the drive back with stoney on the i-pod in the car going over the hills was lovelier still.....
saturdays.......good thinking god...
miércoles, mayo 31, 2006
joy..
dawson wrote the book i am reading today..
it is named -forever ruined for the ordinary-
i feel like i should have read it years ago
today, however is a new day, and required a new book.
more shall be explained of the day and its newness, when it is over..ie, tomorrow..for now, rejoice in the newness of the day...for it is almost june....and birthdays shall then abound......
hurrah
hope you are well
loveanna x x x x x xx x
it is named -forever ruined for the ordinary-
i feel like i should have read it years ago
today, however is a new day, and required a new book.
more shall be explained of the day and its newness, when it is over..ie, tomorrow..for now, rejoice in the newness of the day...for it is almost june....and birthdays shall then abound......
hurrah
hope you are well
loveanna x x x x x xx x
jueves, mayo 25, 2006
the smell of spain..
is something like a (bear with me..) mixture of.....
cleaning fluids
really strong cigarettes
cigar smoke
coffee
garlic
fish
put that all together, and you get the smell of spain
i miss it.
we did top five places last night, and i find my eyes wandering today...praza obradoiro....my balconia...celine's room on a rainy day...milk in bags...the naked beach...the red moon...long bus journeys...the tree-house (i can't spell arboritorium....i know, i know that's not the word..what is the word...?) in barcelona...tibidabo....jaume I...calle de los semoleres....the goat on the ladder...all just memories...but save for the goat, and celine, i could see them all if i went back...i could be in them and they could entertain and inspire me....
i think that manchester has been reduced to being entertaining and inspiring only via the people i see in it..and love in it...(again...)
i didn't want this....i wanted to see it behind the people i love here and love it for what it would still be if they weren't here...is that dumb? naive maybe? needless?
it can't be needless, otherwise i'd never -no-one would ever- go anywhere new, unless they were running away....
naive...maybe.....it might not be possible to love a place without it being largely because of its people...not for a friend-need-ful creature like me anyway....
so i'd very much like to love the place itself more for just being itself....i was getting there, i think..a while back.....but without work, its harder to love..not because of money, but because you are disconnected from it, its routines and its pursuits...
i'm not talking about not loving people here anymore! i'm just sayin, you know....how to love manchester? when its so busy not being spain...? people i met while working on peaceweek stuff.....they are sold, sold on manchester...their kids have been shot, cousins killed, but they're not going anywhere....they refuse to give up on the place....they love it like its part of them....and they work their asses off to see it healed and calmed and matured....
there's no way i can dream of doing the course if i can't get that kind of hope for a city...
ready now lord,. come on, hope me up....
cleaning fluids
really strong cigarettes
cigar smoke
coffee
garlic
fish
put that all together, and you get the smell of spain
i miss it.
we did top five places last night, and i find my eyes wandering today...praza obradoiro....my balconia...celine's room on a rainy day...milk in bags...the naked beach...the red moon...long bus journeys...the tree-house (i can't spell arboritorium....i know, i know that's not the word..what is the word...?) in barcelona...tibidabo....jaume I...calle de los semoleres....the goat on the ladder...all just memories...but save for the goat, and celine, i could see them all if i went back...i could be in them and they could entertain and inspire me....
i think that manchester has been reduced to being entertaining and inspiring only via the people i see in it..and love in it...(again...)
i didn't want this....i wanted to see it behind the people i love here and love it for what it would still be if they weren't here...is that dumb? naive maybe? needless?
it can't be needless, otherwise i'd never -no-one would ever- go anywhere new, unless they were running away....
naive...maybe.....it might not be possible to love a place without it being largely because of its people...not for a friend-need-ful creature like me anyway....
so i'd very much like to love the place itself more for just being itself....i was getting there, i think..a while back.....but without work, its harder to love..not because of money, but because you are disconnected from it, its routines and its pursuits...
i'm not talking about not loving people here anymore! i'm just sayin, you know....how to love manchester? when its so busy not being spain...? people i met while working on peaceweek stuff.....they are sold, sold on manchester...their kids have been shot, cousins killed, but they're not going anywhere....they refuse to give up on the place....they love it like its part of them....and they work their asses off to see it healed and calmed and matured....
there's no way i can dream of doing the course if i can't get that kind of hope for a city...
ready now lord,. come on, hope me up....
martes, mayo 23, 2006
subterfuge..i think..
subterfuge is a new word which i just learned from fran.
she's so smart
it means secrecy...or something like being stealthy....so i like it....not that secrecy is particularly great...but stealth..is a grand word..
so anyway...in the words of the gils -a good weekend all round for gloucester and munster, ding dong!-
never a truer word...
indeed, for munster won the heineken cup, and the o'brien boys were all in cardiff to see it, without poor lucy who gave up her chance to go in favour of her nephews..
what a gem...a tiny tiny gem...
i went to doncaster on saturday, which was,.....east...
and then on sunday i went to sally's.....the parsnips were the highlight, for me anyway..although the ballot over which pudding was nailbiting, another highlight...and on the way walking home i realised that sympathy for the devil, on my headphones, could in fact walk me about two-thirds of the way home, its such a comically long song....well done there..
last night (this is where the post actually gets vaguely interesting...promise...)
i went to see jason mraz.....
i'll level with you...he's hot....and funny, and can sing and wear pink and is generally of the lovliness.....his band were brill too, the big djembe guy was back and i've never seen an acoustic bass before, but apparently that's what it was......that was good...he didn't even sing my two favourite songs of his, but the whole darn thing was still wonderous....big hands after with cate and the lovely mattie....joyous days of lounging around with those two are looming...
ooooh the other highlight of the last few days, i watched eight mile....with boys who are faaaaaaaaar to easily influenced and thereafter attempted to have a -battle- of their own in the lounge.....fran and i opted out.....not only of the battle, but the lounge...the house...the neighbourhood.....oh the shame.....
ok i should stop now.....this is still dull.....i just missed blogging though, its been a whole week...sorry....love you
she's so smart
it means secrecy...or something like being stealthy....so i like it....not that secrecy is particularly great...but stealth..is a grand word..
so anyway...in the words of the gils -a good weekend all round for gloucester and munster, ding dong!-
never a truer word...
indeed, for munster won the heineken cup, and the o'brien boys were all in cardiff to see it, without poor lucy who gave up her chance to go in favour of her nephews..
what a gem...a tiny tiny gem...
i went to doncaster on saturday, which was,.....east...
and then on sunday i went to sally's.....the parsnips were the highlight, for me anyway..although the ballot over which pudding was nailbiting, another highlight...and on the way walking home i realised that sympathy for the devil, on my headphones, could in fact walk me about two-thirds of the way home, its such a comically long song....well done there..
last night (this is where the post actually gets vaguely interesting...promise...)
i went to see jason mraz.....
i'll level with you...he's hot....and funny, and can sing and wear pink and is generally of the lovliness.....his band were brill too, the big djembe guy was back and i've never seen an acoustic bass before, but apparently that's what it was......that was good...he didn't even sing my two favourite songs of his, but the whole darn thing was still wonderous....big hands after with cate and the lovely mattie....joyous days of lounging around with those two are looming...
ooooh the other highlight of the last few days, i watched eight mile....with boys who are faaaaaaaaar to easily influenced and thereafter attempted to have a -battle- of their own in the lounge.....fran and i opted out.....not only of the battle, but the lounge...the house...the neighbourhood.....oh the shame.....
ok i should stop now.....this is still dull.....i just missed blogging though, its been a whole week...sorry....love you
miércoles, mayo 17, 2006
hurrrrumph...
am awake. its two in the stupid morning, and i had a gin too many this evening on an empty stomach, then a pint...went to bed thinking -huh, am slightly squiffy, still had no supper, be snorin in no time-
humph.
hangover hit early due to said lack of food.
ah, age...what a wonderfully debilitating(sp?) thing...
well none of you needed to know any of this, but hey, i haven''t been to sleep yet, which means its technically still tuesday, which technically means.....
three posts in one day...!
who'd have thought the old girl had it in her...?
liz and tim -and probably sal- i now consider myself to have joined the three-in-ones....
still humph though
humph.
hangover hit early due to said lack of food.
ah, age...what a wonderfully debilitating(sp?) thing...
well none of you needed to know any of this, but hey, i haven''t been to sleep yet, which means its technically still tuesday, which technically means.....
three posts in one day...!
who'd have thought the old girl had it in her...?
liz and tim -and probably sal- i now consider myself to have joined the three-in-ones....
still humph though
martes, mayo 16, 2006
a murder of one..
crap i forgot..
i have, while home, initiated myself into the canny and all-new world of scrubs...
no, not the wearing of them, the watching of the show
at the behest of nick, iain, and others, i have given in, laughed along, and admitted it is brilliant
this lunchtime's episode just timed itself out with -a murder of one- from august and everything after by the crows...
what a show
ps sal loves zack braff the most...
pps..that aside, the song of my shire holiday so far has been and right now is -banquet- by bloc party..
pps..ok i know i'm pushing it now...but the other song, that i have been mostly listening to, is -she's so high- by blur..from leisure..it is such a good song, and in fact, so good that i described it as -fit- to fiona and she agreed. we love it...get it, you ituners...go on...its -fit-
i have, while home, initiated myself into the canny and all-new world of scrubs...
no, not the wearing of them, the watching of the show
at the behest of nick, iain, and others, i have given in, laughed along, and admitted it is brilliant
this lunchtime's episode just timed itself out with -a murder of one- from august and everything after by the crows...
what a show
ps sal loves zack braff the most...
pps..that aside, the song of my shire holiday so far has been and right now is -banquet- by bloc party..
pps..ok i know i'm pushing it now...but the other song, that i have been mostly listening to, is -she's so high- by blur..from leisure..it is such a good song, and in fact, so good that i described it as -fit- to fiona and she agreed. we love it...get it, you ituners...go on...its -fit-
ruby tuesday..
so since last writing, i have..
{in fact, before i start, may i say that i have just re-read this post through before posting..and concluded that i sound drunk...i would like to assure you i am not...apologies..}
attended and behaved at the family "do" for uncle mike's sixtieth..
managed to avoid (til five minutes ago) my mum finding out that i smoke again sometimes....pesky filters, they get everywhere...
read two blogs that have been showing off about seeing dave matthews (each live and direct at a different location)
found a few more jobs
ooh went out and danced the night away with rob and amy, and their friend hot rod, who was delightful and danced rather like vic reeves, who it turns out i may have always secretly fancied...
oooh! good one: pink has a song out called who knew......
watched an episode of due south
watched an episode of quantum leap
(those damn extra itv channels clearly getting the better of this tv-deprived girl...)
ok bored of the list now....
am enjoying my time away from manchester, but missing it slightly, mainly missing my bed...and lunch club...
but joy!: tomorrow i head for london, and there shall i stay while thursday morning, when i shall head north along with miss mcwatson of the loveliness
and there, on thursday evening,we shall attend the osbourne....any and all takers are most welcome...
having left my staighteners behind, my hair is quite a sight, i can tell you...its about to suffocate me....i am off to calm it...
hasta luego tios, cuidados, y nos vemos pronto..bueno, vale......adios x x x
{in fact, before i start, may i say that i have just re-read this post through before posting..and concluded that i sound drunk...i would like to assure you i am not...apologies..}
attended and behaved at the family "do" for uncle mike's sixtieth..
managed to avoid (til five minutes ago) my mum finding out that i smoke again sometimes....pesky filters, they get everywhere...
read two blogs that have been showing off about seeing dave matthews (each live and direct at a different location)
found a few more jobs
ooh went out and danced the night away with rob and amy, and their friend hot rod, who was delightful and danced rather like vic reeves, who it turns out i may have always secretly fancied...
oooh! good one: pink has a song out called who knew......
watched an episode of due south
watched an episode of quantum leap
(those damn extra itv channels clearly getting the better of this tv-deprived girl...)
ok bored of the list now....
am enjoying my time away from manchester, but missing it slightly, mainly missing my bed...and lunch club...
but joy!: tomorrow i head for london, and there shall i stay while thursday morning, when i shall head north along with miss mcwatson of the loveliness
and there, on thursday evening,we shall attend the osbourne....any and all takers are most welcome...
having left my staighteners behind, my hair is quite a sight, i can tell you...its about to suffocate me....i am off to calm it...
hasta luego tios, cuidados, y nos vemos pronto..bueno, vale......adios x x x
sábado, mayo 13, 2006
there really isn't...
i got back here to the shire earlier...and i am now blogging, simply to say, that i am excited that when i wake in the morning, i can know that when i come downstairs in pyjamas, for tea and toast, i will go out the back door, i will turn around and there i will see my pink house...i will take a picture of its pinkness for you and attempt to put the picture on here...i've never done that before...but, see, i got home in the dark, as i usually do on trips home...and so the pink is lost..til the sun comes up....no-one else i know lives in a pink house...
i win
i win
miércoles, mayo 10, 2006
no place like home..?
last night, girl prayer..
i enjoyed it, a lot.....i love singing with the girls, god came along..there was a lot of love..
post girl prayer, still sitting, still kind of praying....i found myself in a room with the ever-lovely nicole, lady da costa, catelin and emma cowan....
i looked at those last three, those wanderers returned, and marvelled slightly...
and they talked about feeling at home without a home, and i thought about what an amazing idea it is to be found, fully, in jesus, to make your home in him.....they none of them are of a fixed abode right now, and having been there, like most of us have, they talked, we all smiled and nodded, its all kind of familiar...but every time it happens to us, that we aren't very well tethered, we get to choose to burrow into god again and find rest and homelyness and a settled place....and then i realised that we do that settledness for eachother too, that we are part of what is home to eachother...this is all a bit gushy and sounds kind of trite, but its when you realise the truth in these cliched things that you lose a bit more cynicism, i think...so there it is....those three women, travelled the length and width of the world between them in the last year, and now are back with us, and i'm so glad.....welcome home my loves..
i enjoyed it, a lot.....i love singing with the girls, god came along..there was a lot of love..
post girl prayer, still sitting, still kind of praying....i found myself in a room with the ever-lovely nicole, lady da costa, catelin and emma cowan....
i looked at those last three, those wanderers returned, and marvelled slightly...
and they talked about feeling at home without a home, and i thought about what an amazing idea it is to be found, fully, in jesus, to make your home in him.....they none of them are of a fixed abode right now, and having been there, like most of us have, they talked, we all smiled and nodded, its all kind of familiar...but every time it happens to us, that we aren't very well tethered, we get to choose to burrow into god again and find rest and homelyness and a settled place....and then i realised that we do that settledness for eachother too, that we are part of what is home to eachother...this is all a bit gushy and sounds kind of trite, but its when you realise the truth in these cliched things that you lose a bit more cynicism, i think...so there it is....those three women, travelled the length and width of the world between them in the last year, and now are back with us, and i'm so glad.....welcome home my loves..
martes, mayo 02, 2006
on being loved..
in cahoots at the kitchen table with da costa the other day, i realised that i have never really had a time of not knowing i am loved. this is perhaps a strange thing to try and talk about, but you know, i'd kind of like to try,....
we were in one of those days of talking and listening where certain things end up with you getting to the bottom of them, and going huh...who knew.....for me it was the age-old and ninety-five-percent dealt with problems of being unattractive, or my own perceptions of that....its not something i really think or worry about these days, as i mentioned before, its ninety-five percent gone....and i love being free of it....thanks jesus...anywho.....the deal was that i figured out that unlike a lot of people who feel worried or sad that they might never 'meet someone', they fear that they are wholly unloveable, or just unworthy of love...yadda ya....not me, i know i'm loved.....my dad is my greatest fan, he loves and helps me be loved, he compliments without reserve and is the only person i know who makes sure he gets enough hugs in a day, from whoever is nearest. he's always been him, since i was me.....and partly because of him, i don't doubt that i am loved.....my sister too, loves me in her laugh, and in her calling me nana, and in her telling me off...my brother calls me darlin only when he is drunk, and still picks me up sometimes, just because he can....and because i hate it....he lets me ask him questions about him and who he wants to be...i don't think he lets anyone else,....his hugs are magnificent, like being hugged by treebeard himself, only not.....see, even in those first two years of high school, when no-one knows who their friends are, no-one likes themself very much, and certainly feeling loved by friends isn't all that common...i still had these people there all the time....when real and good friends did come along, it was kind of a bonus....and now my real and good friends are as much family to me as those in the shire.........
the five percent that remains is about boys, and me...me and boys....as a few of you know, i've been thinking about guys more in the last six months than never, really...and not in a oh god just let me be married.....way. i hope.....but in a...huh, being in love...interesting....kind of a way...its god's five percent to deal with, but he seems pretty sure that it won't go until the single status is changed....but he's readying me for it to be changed...its hard to feel this stuff without feeling the dread of the five percent.....the dread of being told no, the dread of being laughed at.....the dread of being picked last...of it, in the end, just being true that you really are unattractive.....but do you know, i'm having this thing with god right now where the last few weeks, during which my heart has felt rather full and sometimes horribly heavy, there is a balancing thing happening, where i'm checking in with god every day, and can honestly say, 'te quiero mas hoy que ayer....which kind of means i love you more today than yesterday.....so really, even if all comes crashing down and i get wounded or as the kid in love actually says, i get the shit kicked of me by love, my heart will have grown, and grown towards god.....
in oswald today, he was right for the first time in months, in saying....our reach must always exceed our grasp.....ie, ask for more of god than you already have....it sounds kind of elementary, but its actually a huge push for me, because i want that to keep on being true, i want to keep being able to say te quiero mas hoy que ayer....
this is, as anticipated, a very strange post....i'm not sorry..i think i've become less honest on here so far this year, and for that i'm sorry....this jumble doesn't exactly make up for it, but here it is...
we were in one of those days of talking and listening where certain things end up with you getting to the bottom of them, and going huh...who knew.....for me it was the age-old and ninety-five-percent dealt with problems of being unattractive, or my own perceptions of that....its not something i really think or worry about these days, as i mentioned before, its ninety-five percent gone....and i love being free of it....thanks jesus...anywho.....the deal was that i figured out that unlike a lot of people who feel worried or sad that they might never 'meet someone', they fear that they are wholly unloveable, or just unworthy of love...yadda ya....not me, i know i'm loved.....my dad is my greatest fan, he loves and helps me be loved, he compliments without reserve and is the only person i know who makes sure he gets enough hugs in a day, from whoever is nearest. he's always been him, since i was me.....and partly because of him, i don't doubt that i am loved.....my sister too, loves me in her laugh, and in her calling me nana, and in her telling me off...my brother calls me darlin only when he is drunk, and still picks me up sometimes, just because he can....and because i hate it....he lets me ask him questions about him and who he wants to be...i don't think he lets anyone else,....his hugs are magnificent, like being hugged by treebeard himself, only not.....see, even in those first two years of high school, when no-one knows who their friends are, no-one likes themself very much, and certainly feeling loved by friends isn't all that common...i still had these people there all the time....when real and good friends did come along, it was kind of a bonus....and now my real and good friends are as much family to me as those in the shire.........
the five percent that remains is about boys, and me...me and boys....as a few of you know, i've been thinking about guys more in the last six months than never, really...and not in a oh god just let me be married.....way. i hope.....but in a...huh, being in love...interesting....kind of a way...its god's five percent to deal with, but he seems pretty sure that it won't go until the single status is changed....but he's readying me for it to be changed...its hard to feel this stuff without feeling the dread of the five percent.....the dread of being told no, the dread of being laughed at.....the dread of being picked last...of it, in the end, just being true that you really are unattractive.....but do you know, i'm having this thing with god right now where the last few weeks, during which my heart has felt rather full and sometimes horribly heavy, there is a balancing thing happening, where i'm checking in with god every day, and can honestly say, 'te quiero mas hoy que ayer....which kind of means i love you more today than yesterday.....so really, even if all comes crashing down and i get wounded or as the kid in love actually says, i get the shit kicked of me by love, my heart will have grown, and grown towards god.....
in oswald today, he was right for the first time in months, in saying....our reach must always exceed our grasp.....ie, ask for more of god than you already have....it sounds kind of elementary, but its actually a huge push for me, because i want that to keep on being true, i want to keep being able to say te quiero mas hoy que ayer....
this is, as anticipated, a very strange post....i'm not sorry..i think i've become less honest on here so far this year, and for that i'm sorry....this jumble doesn't exactly make up for it, but here it is...
miércoles, abril 26, 2006
on getting a tan in april..
i am you know..
it just won't stop...yesterday afternoon, heald place...vodka and orange on the doorstep, inhabitants of my house up to high jinx and laughing in the sun....not working sucks...but it has its merits...!
its kind of a needless post, i know...its just been so long since i blogged three days in a row....!
sorry............
it just won't stop...yesterday afternoon, heald place...vodka and orange on the doorstep, inhabitants of my house up to high jinx and laughing in the sun....not working sucks...but it has its merits...!
its kind of a needless post, i know...its just been so long since i blogged three days in a row....!
sorry............
martes, abril 25, 2006
dream jobs: the timeline...
ok here follows some home truths about me that even john peel himself may have blushed over...you've guessed it, the definitive list of life-time ambitions, fleeting or fanciful, ridiculous or retarded.....none of them has, as yet, come to pass....but have i really tried? that is, for now, neither here nor there.....
what i am curious about, after a slight epiphany in the job centre this morning, is whether there are any themes emergent from this list, and whether from them i can glean any tiny insights as to what i perhaps ought to be pursuing. ok, here we go..
1985: librarian (seriously..)
1991: un peacekeeping person (this came to an end during latter high school, upon my realising i would have to basically be in the army)
1993: childrens' book writer
: news reader/reporter
1994: lawyer for people on death row (you may want to note the prevalence of john grisham in my reading habits of the day)
1995: teacher of english in spain
(from this point, my obsession with spanish and all things spain takes over to such a degree that all the following, until otherwise stated, are jobs that would, in the mind's eye, be located there..)
1997: music journalist
1998: eu translator
1999: youth worker
: coffee- and book-shop owner
: aid worker
2000: some kind of praying person
2001: coffee- and book-shop owner
: backing singer (for whom? who could say...)
: writer for human rights watch
2002: make-up artist, hairdresser, nail technician
2003: journalist/war-reporter/author/writer of any kind (god used his powers of veto on this one 'unitl i could be trusted with it'.....i think i may still just be holding out for this one to be honest....)
: careers advisor
2004: tefl teacher in spain
(from this point, location is no longer the be all and end all...)
2005: counsellor (post conflict preferably, or with people with eating disorders...or with people who work in financial institutions ie city of london)
: secondary english teacher
2006: human rights lawyer
: community advocate
: (today) travel writer, story-teller....
what i am curious about, after a slight epiphany in the job centre this morning, is whether there are any themes emergent from this list, and whether from them i can glean any tiny insights as to what i perhaps ought to be pursuing. ok, here we go..
1985: librarian (seriously..)
1991: un peacekeeping person (this came to an end during latter high school, upon my realising i would have to basically be in the army)
1993: childrens' book writer
: news reader/reporter
1994: lawyer for people on death row (you may want to note the prevalence of john grisham in my reading habits of the day)
1995: teacher of english in spain
(from this point, my obsession with spanish and all things spain takes over to such a degree that all the following, until otherwise stated, are jobs that would, in the mind's eye, be located there..)
1997: music journalist
1998: eu translator
1999: youth worker
: coffee- and book-shop owner
: aid worker
2000: some kind of praying person
2001: coffee- and book-shop owner
: backing singer (for whom? who could say...)
: writer for human rights watch
2002: make-up artist, hairdresser, nail technician
2003: journalist/war-reporter/author/writer of any kind (god used his powers of veto on this one 'unitl i could be trusted with it'.....i think i may still just be holding out for this one to be honest....)
: careers advisor
2004: tefl teacher in spain
(from this point, location is no longer the be all and end all...)
2005: counsellor (post conflict preferably, or with people with eating disorders...or with people who work in financial institutions ie city of london)
: secondary english teacher
2006: human rights lawyer
: community advocate
: (today) travel writer, story-teller....
lunes, abril 24, 2006
you'd better put the kettle on...
if you have the time, i've got the story to tell...
go and get your coffee...
ireland is almost invariably good to me, but the north.....i've only been here once before, but i'm fairly sure i could stay...i won't, (yet) but i could....here in the quiet of county tyrone, its kind of like yorkshire moors meets riverful tipperary, and it seems like it's glad i'm here.
we three (barlow, drage and na) arrived on a cold saturday morning, my prayers for sunshine still ringing round my ears...we were met by a giddy emma, who had that look about her of one who has spent a week or two at home: good food, comfy bed, many walks, some hard work pruning. the four of us tramped around belfast for a couple of hours in the tank (not literally a tank, clearly...that would be contraversial....), getting a right luxury tour of the old town. emma has clearly being doing her research lately, and looked surprisingly at home even in her four-by-four....for me, it was all new....the falls, the shankhill, the muralled gables and the painted kerbstones had been mainly myth and legend in my head. my one trip to the north in 1995 had involved a route that bypassed the city (it had however passed almost alongside the cowan family farm as it would happen), and the tyrone towns on that road had shown me the fierceness of flags...but the city itself is something rather diffferent. not myth, the signs of nations and banners and histories, the faces of victims and prisoners and martyrs painted on walls, the slogans and promises of small armies of boys and young men....these are real and rather rife in the cities suburbs. you feel like they're glaring at you saying - do you really expect i'll ever be pulled down? - you can't argue easily with a flag. by the end of our tour i felt like my lungs were being wringed out by some very strong hands. i hadn't cried but i had instead felt just that - like my insides were churning or being kneaded. i didn't want to leave though - it had a strange pull on me that i knew meant until i had got out of the tank and walked around i wouldn't feel everything that there is for me to feel for the place. the walk is for another time.
so we took coffee and raisin bread at common grounds, possibly the most delightful coffee house i have seen for a while - take note rikes, you should come check it out...
then we proceeded to the farm. i'm not sure i know how to describe how homely someone else's house is, but when shown to my room, i felt i could stay a week and not miss anything or want to be anywhere else. emma had left a careful selection of books on my bedside table, and the accuracy of her understanding of my literary requirements was uncanny. seamus heaney awaited me there - the death of a naturalist - which i haven't read since i was about seventeen. he will resurface later in my story. alongside it was silver linings, by martin fletcher, which any of you wishing to know more about this place and why it has been so contested over should probably froogle for. (isbn 0-349-11251-7)
we ate lunch and enjoyed jimmy and rosemary's observation of us, his historical insights and her loving the chat from around the table. we sat around that table for what felt like the whole afternoon, so when we four came to depart for the boat, i felt sure it was nearly evening. emma then told us she had sneakily prayed that the minutes we were all together here would feel like hours...and lo, it was only about half-three....
the drive west across almost as far as enniskillin was for me a bit of a musical journey, through towns and across rivers, whose lovers and legends i had only heard sung about. (mostly by my dad, who i quietly wished was there for that particular leg of the trip). i read with wonder the book of irish history emma had provided for just such a road, and finger-traced our progress across the width of ulster on its map, wondering if one half from the south and half from over the water could ever really know what it means to love this place.
our expectations of 'the barge' came crashing down when we discovered that the cowan family boat was in fact a 'luxury yacht' (so named by the girls who have little concept of boats and less concept of luxury..!) it is moored on the banks of a river heading north from the upper lough erne, in county fermanagh, alongside about a dozen others, most of which are seemingly owned by friends of emma's parents or relations of the butcher from up the road, or so-and-so from james's classes' parents.
we set up house, and then get drunk. we laughed heartily, told some sad stories, some family stories, school stories...and a few about how good god is..tried to make emma say rude words (which, it appears, is probably more tricky than trying to get me to talk about poo....) we ate salmon when already drunk, we drank more wine than i knew we had brought, we smoked cigarettes enroached with rizla-packet-tear-offs, to the point that all that remained was a pile of papers with nowhere to go....we each left drunken messages for poor mr vino, whose impending marriage formed a large part of the evening's conversation...emma and i sang, badly, and not for long.....mostly we laughed. the boat was an instant home to us and we loved it.
when we woke, the hangovers didn't last long....the fruit salad and coffee saw them off for us....but then what do you suppose happened.....?
the sun, the sun came out, and there it stayed. the suntan i jokingly prayed for on the plane....? its here, its on me. i got it.....we sat out on deck, painted our toe-nails and drank more coffee, read our books, wrote our books, and in general were at ease. rosemary and jimmy arrived later, and off we went on a trip down the river to the lough and back again. we moved along the river having types of birds pointed out to us and then argued over like only parents can do.....we drank coke and ate crisps and kind of felt like kids i think. the cowan parents are, it seems, such innately parenty parents that if you are roughly their child's age, they'll adopt you for as long as they can see you. we moored again the other side of several miles of lake and a few islands.....we ate, slept, walked, and the time it just went on and on....it was half four when i thought it surely nearing eight.....madness.....on the way back, we all found our place on the boat. drago of the indoors was reading on the couch......snuggled and warm with a hundred layers over her. she had lamb and the chilli peppers on the laptop and was content, i think....claire and emma huddled like a pair of old washer-women, car blankets round them and sitting at the very front of the boat, headed towards the sun going down and being as close as friends are when they know that one is about to get married and they don't want to miss out on anything that might happen before then.....jimmy and rosemary steered the boat and loved eachother like kids i think..she smoking away, him with his tea and his life-jacket.....me i found a small seat in the corner right at the back......i got my hat and jacket so the wind didn't bother me.....the sunset on the river and through the trees on the islands around us was not even photographable...well, i just mean it was too good for photos....with a cigarette and a cup of tea in one hand, and the - death of a naturalist - in the other, i was as happy as i can remember being.....he is from this way, you see, seamus heaney, and it shows....when i studied this book for gcse english, i realised i could understand poetry by myself. i also realised i was glad to be irish, and didn't need to be proud just to be glad. i became friends with paul f over that book, and also learned to write poetry a bit because of it, i think. punctuation is very important to him. as are all aspects of nature, and ways in which man uses and enjoys nature are kind of themes. it turned out that that dog-earred copy in my lap had been used not only by emma and later her brother james while at school, but also by rosemary, in 1974...reading it was good right then because i saw that i was different from when i last read it...but also the same, i think.
i found one poem in it that i do not ever remember reading before.
rashly or not, i there and then named it my favourite of the book.
and here it is....
scaffolding
masons, when they start upon a building,
are careful to test out the scaffolding;
make sure that planks won't slip at busy points,
secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.
and yet all this comes down when job's done
showing off walls of sure and solid stone.
so if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
old bridges breaking between you and me
never fear. we may let the scaffolds fall
confident that we have built our wall.
i'd like to know how it feels to build love.
i haven't enjoyed writing for a long time as much as i have this morning.
i still have a few hours left, so i'm off to make soup for the girls for when they return from their walking tour of the county.
if you have got this far, thanks.
back home tonight. love you x
go and get your coffee...
ireland is almost invariably good to me, but the north.....i've only been here once before, but i'm fairly sure i could stay...i won't, (yet) but i could....here in the quiet of county tyrone, its kind of like yorkshire moors meets riverful tipperary, and it seems like it's glad i'm here.
we three (barlow, drage and na) arrived on a cold saturday morning, my prayers for sunshine still ringing round my ears...we were met by a giddy emma, who had that look about her of one who has spent a week or two at home: good food, comfy bed, many walks, some hard work pruning. the four of us tramped around belfast for a couple of hours in the tank (not literally a tank, clearly...that would be contraversial....), getting a right luxury tour of the old town. emma has clearly being doing her research lately, and looked surprisingly at home even in her four-by-four....for me, it was all new....the falls, the shankhill, the muralled gables and the painted kerbstones had been mainly myth and legend in my head. my one trip to the north in 1995 had involved a route that bypassed the city (it had however passed almost alongside the cowan family farm as it would happen), and the tyrone towns on that road had shown me the fierceness of flags...but the city itself is something rather diffferent. not myth, the signs of nations and banners and histories, the faces of victims and prisoners and martyrs painted on walls, the slogans and promises of small armies of boys and young men....these are real and rather rife in the cities suburbs. you feel like they're glaring at you saying - do you really expect i'll ever be pulled down? - you can't argue easily with a flag. by the end of our tour i felt like my lungs were being wringed out by some very strong hands. i hadn't cried but i had instead felt just that - like my insides were churning or being kneaded. i didn't want to leave though - it had a strange pull on me that i knew meant until i had got out of the tank and walked around i wouldn't feel everything that there is for me to feel for the place. the walk is for another time.
so we took coffee and raisin bread at common grounds, possibly the most delightful coffee house i have seen for a while - take note rikes, you should come check it out...
then we proceeded to the farm. i'm not sure i know how to describe how homely someone else's house is, but when shown to my room, i felt i could stay a week and not miss anything or want to be anywhere else. emma had left a careful selection of books on my bedside table, and the accuracy of her understanding of my literary requirements was uncanny. seamus heaney awaited me there - the death of a naturalist - which i haven't read since i was about seventeen. he will resurface later in my story. alongside it was silver linings, by martin fletcher, which any of you wishing to know more about this place and why it has been so contested over should probably froogle for. (isbn 0-349-11251-7)
we ate lunch and enjoyed jimmy and rosemary's observation of us, his historical insights and her loving the chat from around the table. we sat around that table for what felt like the whole afternoon, so when we four came to depart for the boat, i felt sure it was nearly evening. emma then told us she had sneakily prayed that the minutes we were all together here would feel like hours...and lo, it was only about half-three....
the drive west across almost as far as enniskillin was for me a bit of a musical journey, through towns and across rivers, whose lovers and legends i had only heard sung about. (mostly by my dad, who i quietly wished was there for that particular leg of the trip). i read with wonder the book of irish history emma had provided for just such a road, and finger-traced our progress across the width of ulster on its map, wondering if one half from the south and half from over the water could ever really know what it means to love this place.
our expectations of 'the barge' came crashing down when we discovered that the cowan family boat was in fact a 'luxury yacht' (so named by the girls who have little concept of boats and less concept of luxury..!) it is moored on the banks of a river heading north from the upper lough erne, in county fermanagh, alongside about a dozen others, most of which are seemingly owned by friends of emma's parents or relations of the butcher from up the road, or so-and-so from james's classes' parents.
we set up house, and then get drunk. we laughed heartily, told some sad stories, some family stories, school stories...and a few about how good god is..tried to make emma say rude words (which, it appears, is probably more tricky than trying to get me to talk about poo....) we ate salmon when already drunk, we drank more wine than i knew we had brought, we smoked cigarettes enroached with rizla-packet-tear-offs, to the point that all that remained was a pile of papers with nowhere to go....we each left drunken messages for poor mr vino, whose impending marriage formed a large part of the evening's conversation...emma and i sang, badly, and not for long.....mostly we laughed. the boat was an instant home to us and we loved it.
when we woke, the hangovers didn't last long....the fruit salad and coffee saw them off for us....but then what do you suppose happened.....?
the sun, the sun came out, and there it stayed. the suntan i jokingly prayed for on the plane....? its here, its on me. i got it.....we sat out on deck, painted our toe-nails and drank more coffee, read our books, wrote our books, and in general were at ease. rosemary and jimmy arrived later, and off we went on a trip down the river to the lough and back again. we moved along the river having types of birds pointed out to us and then argued over like only parents can do.....we drank coke and ate crisps and kind of felt like kids i think. the cowan parents are, it seems, such innately parenty parents that if you are roughly their child's age, they'll adopt you for as long as they can see you. we moored again the other side of several miles of lake and a few islands.....we ate, slept, walked, and the time it just went on and on....it was half four when i thought it surely nearing eight.....madness.....on the way back, we all found our place on the boat. drago of the indoors was reading on the couch......snuggled and warm with a hundred layers over her. she had lamb and the chilli peppers on the laptop and was content, i think....claire and emma huddled like a pair of old washer-women, car blankets round them and sitting at the very front of the boat, headed towards the sun going down and being as close as friends are when they know that one is about to get married and they don't want to miss out on anything that might happen before then.....jimmy and rosemary steered the boat and loved eachother like kids i think..she smoking away, him with his tea and his life-jacket.....me i found a small seat in the corner right at the back......i got my hat and jacket so the wind didn't bother me.....the sunset on the river and through the trees on the islands around us was not even photographable...well, i just mean it was too good for photos....with a cigarette and a cup of tea in one hand, and the - death of a naturalist - in the other, i was as happy as i can remember being.....he is from this way, you see, seamus heaney, and it shows....when i studied this book for gcse english, i realised i could understand poetry by myself. i also realised i was glad to be irish, and didn't need to be proud just to be glad. i became friends with paul f over that book, and also learned to write poetry a bit because of it, i think. punctuation is very important to him. as are all aspects of nature, and ways in which man uses and enjoys nature are kind of themes. it turned out that that dog-earred copy in my lap had been used not only by emma and later her brother james while at school, but also by rosemary, in 1974...reading it was good right then because i saw that i was different from when i last read it...but also the same, i think.
i found one poem in it that i do not ever remember reading before.
rashly or not, i there and then named it my favourite of the book.
and here it is....
scaffolding
masons, when they start upon a building,
are careful to test out the scaffolding;
make sure that planks won't slip at busy points,
secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.
and yet all this comes down when job's done
showing off walls of sure and solid stone.
so if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
old bridges breaking between you and me
never fear. we may let the scaffolds fall
confident that we have built our wall.
i'd like to know how it feels to build love.
i haven't enjoyed writing for a long time as much as i have this morning.
i still have a few hours left, so i'm off to make soup for the girls for when they return from their walking tour of the county.
if you have got this far, thanks.
back home tonight. love you x
jueves, abril 13, 2006
wednesday o' wonder
has replaced the super sal saturday..
yesterday she and i went into town and mooched around. it was surprisingly windy, so we wound up in cafe rouge eating delicious french onion soup.
i didn't make her cry either. we actually just laughed, alot alot, all day. and had ice creams with flakes. and i got new shoes with higher heels than any of you have, i'm sure, ever anticipated seeing me hobble around in. i feel like a real live girl when i wear them...i can't move, but i look hot...
we then watched narnia in the lounge camp with the projector...it is projected onto the white curtain these days, what with the invasion of the wallpaper and all...and i was quite distracted during most of the film, by wondering what it might look like from the outside of the house....does it go through? can you watch narnia, soundlessly and backwards from outside? who knows...i was also rather distracted by the wonderous homemade beefburger that i weas given for supper....
all in all, a lovely day..thanks sal
i got home quite late, and while i was pottering around putting out the trash wearing my new shoes for practice, my phone rang, and as i looked at the screen, i gasped to see the words...calling...caitlin...
and a joyous two hours ensued, of joy and laughing, story-telling and question-asking, grinning and sighing with the sheer relief of being known.....these are happy days indeed...
i still have no job, but its somehow ok...
my kitchen is white. whiter than white. ben helped., i wouldn't have finished it without his help i don't think....thanks ben...
resa and krister are in town for a few days, which is fun...if any of you are in the manchester area, do come to heald tomorrow evening, for hanging out with them and eating cake and hopefully drinking wine and laughing.....anytime in the evening, just bob over...
ok enough news and thank-yous...expect maybe one more, to fran..for the cookies just now...hot, just out of the oven.....as i said..happy days...
yesterday she and i went into town and mooched around. it was surprisingly windy, so we wound up in cafe rouge eating delicious french onion soup.
i didn't make her cry either. we actually just laughed, alot alot, all day. and had ice creams with flakes. and i got new shoes with higher heels than any of you have, i'm sure, ever anticipated seeing me hobble around in. i feel like a real live girl when i wear them...i can't move, but i look hot...
we then watched narnia in the lounge camp with the projector...it is projected onto the white curtain these days, what with the invasion of the wallpaper and all...and i was quite distracted during most of the film, by wondering what it might look like from the outside of the house....does it go through? can you watch narnia, soundlessly and backwards from outside? who knows...i was also rather distracted by the wonderous homemade beefburger that i weas given for supper....
all in all, a lovely day..thanks sal
i got home quite late, and while i was pottering around putting out the trash wearing my new shoes for practice, my phone rang, and as i looked at the screen, i gasped to see the words...calling...caitlin...
and a joyous two hours ensued, of joy and laughing, story-telling and question-asking, grinning and sighing with the sheer relief of being known.....these are happy days indeed...
i still have no job, but its somehow ok...
my kitchen is white. whiter than white. ben helped., i wouldn't have finished it without his help i don't think....thanks ben...
resa and krister are in town for a few days, which is fun...if any of you are in the manchester area, do come to heald tomorrow evening, for hanging out with them and eating cake and hopefully drinking wine and laughing.....anytime in the evening, just bob over...
ok enough news and thank-yous...expect maybe one more, to fran..for the cookies just now...hot, just out of the oven.....as i said..happy days...
martes, abril 04, 2006
in honour of our patron..
today is the birthday of the lovely dr angelou
she is now 78 years old
when i was eleven or twelve, and was a total geek, the school librarian, upon seeing my distress at having no further books left unread in the library, handed me a book named 'i know why the caged bird sings', by said lady
it was the first book i had ever read that made me feel sick, made me laugh, made me cry, made me lose sleep, made me not rest until i had it read, made me want to thank the person who had written it.
if you, dear readers, have come this far in your lives having read none of her books, please come round to my house and borrow one...i have all of them,. they are many. if you live in a foreign country, i will send you one of your very own, should you wish.
i am sorry again for such a lapse in posting..i wish i had been busy doing exciting things and had some thrilling tales to tell you all, alas..they would have to be made-up stories! i am well, unemployed, which is mildly scary, but have been having a lovely few days of no work, learning how to dream and hatch plans again, after the dream amnesty of 2005.
i am not going to be studying the law, god has moved me on from that particular idea..praise him
am learning lots and thinking lots about community advocacy, about the city, about neighbourhoods and the issues facing cities, especially this fine one of ours...
had been thinking through all those things for only about a week, maybe ten days, when i happened upon a course at manchester metropolitan university. it is named MA in European Urban Cultures. it is amazing and i kind of do this strange gasping thing when i read the pages about it. which i do often. its one of those things that you look at and then think, god, god, god, let me pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaassssseeee!!!
it is a rather sharp detour/diverion/something else, from what i have thought of doing before, until you really think about it....
imagine being an advocate for a city, and for cities in general. imagine being someone who in ten years' time can really have knowledge and heart wide and deep enough to be able to speak to those running the great cities of europe, maybe even talk to them about what it means to love the place. to really love it, to give to it, invest in it, and dream for it and with it...
i don't know guys, it doesn't make much sense to me either, and i'm nervous about even writing this much. it sounds dumb. but i'm enjoying the idea, and i'm reading lots...went to urbis today to look and think...felt like a field trip.....am sketching things in my head, rough outlines of what job it could be in the end.....and at the same time, thinking about what job am i going to do next week.......
it will probably all pass, in favour of yet another new idea, almost certainly....i don't want it to this time though.....it such a pretty idea in my head....and i'd get to live in helsinki for three months.....god god god plleeeeeeeeaaaaaseeeeeeeee
she is now 78 years old
when i was eleven or twelve, and was a total geek, the school librarian, upon seeing my distress at having no further books left unread in the library, handed me a book named 'i know why the caged bird sings', by said lady
it was the first book i had ever read that made me feel sick, made me laugh, made me cry, made me lose sleep, made me not rest until i had it read, made me want to thank the person who had written it.
if you, dear readers, have come this far in your lives having read none of her books, please come round to my house and borrow one...i have all of them,. they are many. if you live in a foreign country, i will send you one of your very own, should you wish.
i am sorry again for such a lapse in posting..i wish i had been busy doing exciting things and had some thrilling tales to tell you all, alas..they would have to be made-up stories! i am well, unemployed, which is mildly scary, but have been having a lovely few days of no work, learning how to dream and hatch plans again, after the dream amnesty of 2005.
i am not going to be studying the law, god has moved me on from that particular idea..praise him
am learning lots and thinking lots about community advocacy, about the city, about neighbourhoods and the issues facing cities, especially this fine one of ours...
had been thinking through all those things for only about a week, maybe ten days, when i happened upon a course at manchester metropolitan university. it is named MA in European Urban Cultures. it is amazing and i kind of do this strange gasping thing when i read the pages about it. which i do often. its one of those things that you look at and then think, god, god, god, let me pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaassssseeee!!!
it is a rather sharp detour/diverion/something else, from what i have thought of doing before, until you really think about it....
imagine being an advocate for a city, and for cities in general. imagine being someone who in ten years' time can really have knowledge and heart wide and deep enough to be able to speak to those running the great cities of europe, maybe even talk to them about what it means to love the place. to really love it, to give to it, invest in it, and dream for it and with it...
i don't know guys, it doesn't make much sense to me either, and i'm nervous about even writing this much. it sounds dumb. but i'm enjoying the idea, and i'm reading lots...went to urbis today to look and think...felt like a field trip.....am sketching things in my head, rough outlines of what job it could be in the end.....and at the same time, thinking about what job am i going to do next week.......
it will probably all pass, in favour of yet another new idea, almost certainly....i don't want it to this time though.....it such a pretty idea in my head....and i'd get to live in helsinki for three months.....god god god plleeeeeeeeaaaaaseeeeeeeee
viernes, marzo 24, 2006
peace in my peaceweek
so i have enjoyed peaceweek so far
i went and did some meditation with a load of hilarious old west indian women at our lady's cathlic church in moss side. the hugged me and called me baby and practially ran me over when i was handing out the candles at the end..
i got very lost trying to find the prayer room in longsight, but it meant i walked around longsight for a long time, never finding the church but instead finding longsight, which i've never really done before.
the office is funny, its such a mess, peace fm is on all the time with some crazy guy either instructing people to never trust the police (helpful) or with annoucements for all kinds of wonderful projects and things happening in the area, or adverts each about ten minutes long, all fighting over being the best caribbean take away on the parkway....its funny, i like it. its so far outside of what i normally spend my time listening to, its really good.
so i am still struggling with the lawyer conundrum. you know those times when you have a decision to make, and people pray or whatever and they say oh i just feel like god says you can choose, that either way is good, you jsut decide and he'll give you the grace to do either thing..and you always go, oh no, that sucks, i'd rather he just told me outright what to do. thing is, i know now is one of the times when he will decide, but that's so much harder, because it means i have to be really listening. and i feel this huge pressure in me, that i am putting in myself, to have the best possible listening ears i have ever had, so that i can listen right and make good choices. and i don't, i haven't, i can't
but equally, its blantenly one of those times when he's not gonna tell anyone else.
dammit
sorry that was rambling.
so, my fast is done. forty days was up last night. i ate white chocolate mice. and this is why i am more confused, not the mice, but the fast, because i really prayed god would tell me what to do by the end of it....but then, some people seem to think it often all comes clear in the aftermath. either way i'm a bit scared i think that i might have somehow missed the boat. or maybe the point.....
with reference to the last post, i am still content. but what i have realised in the last couple of days, is that even while i am content, i am not at all satisfied. and (she says quietly) i'm not ever sure i want to be, but with it i just feel so frustrated and reading something in howie's last night about living the life you love.....it kinda made me cry in the bath. i want a job that i love. that's all. and a man, would be nice.
its the european dream
please don't misunderstand me dearest readers...i am not sad, or moaning (for once!)...am just frustrated at not feeling like i'm making progress finding my way. a helpful boy pointed out though that just loving jesus and saying thanks for a while with no questioning would probably be the best way to go.
so the peace parade is this evening. do come if you can.
drago dragonfly i love you
i went and did some meditation with a load of hilarious old west indian women at our lady's cathlic church in moss side. the hugged me and called me baby and practially ran me over when i was handing out the candles at the end..
i got very lost trying to find the prayer room in longsight, but it meant i walked around longsight for a long time, never finding the church but instead finding longsight, which i've never really done before.
the office is funny, its such a mess, peace fm is on all the time with some crazy guy either instructing people to never trust the police (helpful) or with annoucements for all kinds of wonderful projects and things happening in the area, or adverts each about ten minutes long, all fighting over being the best caribbean take away on the parkway....its funny, i like it. its so far outside of what i normally spend my time listening to, its really good.
so i am still struggling with the lawyer conundrum. you know those times when you have a decision to make, and people pray or whatever and they say oh i just feel like god says you can choose, that either way is good, you jsut decide and he'll give you the grace to do either thing..and you always go, oh no, that sucks, i'd rather he just told me outright what to do. thing is, i know now is one of the times when he will decide, but that's so much harder, because it means i have to be really listening. and i feel this huge pressure in me, that i am putting in myself, to have the best possible listening ears i have ever had, so that i can listen right and make good choices. and i don't, i haven't, i can't
but equally, its blantenly one of those times when he's not gonna tell anyone else.
dammit
sorry that was rambling.
so, my fast is done. forty days was up last night. i ate white chocolate mice. and this is why i am more confused, not the mice, but the fast, because i really prayed god would tell me what to do by the end of it....but then, some people seem to think it often all comes clear in the aftermath. either way i'm a bit scared i think that i might have somehow missed the boat. or maybe the point.....
with reference to the last post, i am still content. but what i have realised in the last couple of days, is that even while i am content, i am not at all satisfied. and (she says quietly) i'm not ever sure i want to be, but with it i just feel so frustrated and reading something in howie's last night about living the life you love.....it kinda made me cry in the bath. i want a job that i love. that's all. and a man, would be nice.
its the european dream
please don't misunderstand me dearest readers...i am not sad, or moaning (for once!)...am just frustrated at not feeling like i'm making progress finding my way. a helpful boy pointed out though that just loving jesus and saying thanks for a while with no questioning would probably be the best way to go.
so the peace parade is this evening. do come if you can.
drago dragonfly i love you
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