this is where i'm going..in about three hours...
haHA!
a weekend of wellies, wine, and other things fun..
hasta luego friends!
viernes, julio 27, 2007
miércoles, julio 25, 2007
whoa nelly!
stop there a second and cop a load of this:
www.libertorre.com
our very own hannah houseman, people...
look at her go...
www.libertorre.com
our very own hannah houseman, people...
look at her go...
four simple rules..
sitting just now with drago, too late for a school night, but we had
worries to air...and i found myself remembering to seek a reminder
that the god of all peace wishes to sanctify us through and through..
and as on so many fretful occasions in the past, i turned my attention
to the precious book -the imitation of christ-
it never fails to bring counsel and fresh thought...tonight is no
exception...get your eyes and hearts round this, me hearties, and let's
set said together on that tranquil ocean of good sleep and sound
faith...
worries to air...and i found myself remembering to seek a reminder
that the god of all peace wishes to sanctify us through and through..
and as on so many fretful occasions in the past, i turned my attention
to the precious book -the imitation of christ-
it never fails to bring counsel and fresh thought...tonight is no
exception...get your eyes and hearts round this, me hearties, and let's
set said together on that tranquil ocean of good sleep and sound
faith...
chapter 23
on four things that bring peace
resolve to do the will of others rather than your own
always choose to possess less rather than more
always take the lowest place, and regard yourself as less than others
desire and pray always that god's will may be perfectly fulfilled in you
amen x
martes, julio 24, 2007
waiting for spring...in summer..
so as you will by now know, my lovely hometown is on the front page of all the papers, flooded beyond belief and its proud inhabitants learning to wear wellies with dignity..
this week and next should be the annual camp of st peter's parish of gloucester, out in the woods and hills of the beautiful forest of dean...
i'm not sure i've ever waxed lyrical about this tradition of ours, so i thought that just to maybe aid its coming, i'd do so now..
when i was six we first attended. nick was seven, fiona one...
it had emerged from being a five-year old tradition of the august bank holiday weekend, several families from the church just getting away together for a few days, barbequeing and letting the kids roam free, to becoming a more long-term stay..it went from those few days to a week, and for some, went on to claim their whole summer holidays...
for us, it became a two-week camp at the end of our six weeks off school..the first two were always ireland, the second two were always cornwall, and the last....blaisdon...
at that age, there is nothing more splendid than being bundled into the car, sleeping bags, top trumps and plastic crockery at the ready, about to face whatever the elements threw at you, and to be with those friends who otherwise, we'd see at school or mass and say hi to, but they quickly became these sacred friendships, that were pure camping ties only..
we and the other kids would spend our days roaming around blaisdon forest, getting legs scraped and the occasional limb broken..we loved it. every morning, we'd have our cereal and juice, and then we'd be off! they wouldn't see us til sandwiches and hula hoops for lunch..there was an outdoor pool, bikes and skateboards, a treacherous rope swing right in the heart of the forest (no, you're right, i never, ever went on it...)
what we later learned was that during those long, sunny mornings, the parents would do their morning chores (sweep out the tent, sort the frozen blocks in the cool boxes, and generally potter about...
but then, they would then convene, not long before we'd come hurtling back for lunch, for their morning coffee....now, most of these people are pillars of the community, back home twelve miles away: teachers, nurses, housewives, accountants..but on camp, they're different...they're irish, in the main, and so it was the daily routine that the jamesons would get liberally snuck into these morning coffees, and if we got back a bit too late, we'd be getting our own lunch, if you know what i mean..
then more play, until dinner..the dads would always have their barbeques in a huddle, and would talk as men do over cooking, while the mothers (and usually daughters) would peel the spuds, wash the salad and dig the ketchup out of the cool box...and we'd eat together, sharing food, and rola cola, and wine...
but come the evening..!
now that was when the real fun would start....around seven, or as soon as the dinner was done and the tedious washing-up-over-a-makeshift-washing-up-stand over with, the fire would be lit, and the games begin..those usual campfire games of 'my granny likes...' and 'in my bag i packed..' and in the early nineties, always one of the boys (or more) would be too cool for skool, and sit with their gameboys until they realised everyone else as having more fun than they were!
and then my dad would arrive, usually after a small nap, guitar in hand, beard full and funny, and he'd sing..we'd all sing..there can't be too many groups of kids like us who know the words to so many irish songs and english folk songs and beatles and old american rock and roll and a bit of the blues and the hollies and simon and garfunkel songs...i think we may be a rare breed...and so it would go....
depending on your age, you would be sent off to bed in stages, torch in hand, the song 'goodnight fiona [or insert other name], goodnight fiona..' ringing in your ears, minding for guy ropes and hoping no bugs were in your bed waiting for you...usually some high jinks or other would follow, a stolen sleeping bag here, someone falling down the hill there....and we'd go to sleep with the sound of our parents singing and laughing and hunting for more wine in that famed cool box later in the night...
and in the morning, we'd wake with that horrible 'oh god i'm so hot get me out of here' feeling and have to get out of the tent asap, hungry for breakfast and for another day of fun.
even the rain didn't stop us. if it came, it invariably poured, and we'd have to stay inside...rummy and crazy eights and shithead were our card games of choice, monopoly would last all day..top trumps never failed to keep us out of trouble, at least for a couple of hours, and we were never, ever bored....
truth is, last year was pretty much the same...
i want my summer camping fun!! let the shire dry out please lord, if only for tradition not to be broken...and also, its not that much fun in the flood....
i say that, knowing that my parents are on their way out to the field RIGHT NOW to put the tent up..mum reckons its a balmy evening, so they're putting out their branch and seeing what happens..
hurrah!
this week and next should be the annual camp of st peter's parish of gloucester, out in the woods and hills of the beautiful forest of dean...
i'm not sure i've ever waxed lyrical about this tradition of ours, so i thought that just to maybe aid its coming, i'd do so now..
when i was six we first attended. nick was seven, fiona one...
it had emerged from being a five-year old tradition of the august bank holiday weekend, several families from the church just getting away together for a few days, barbequeing and letting the kids roam free, to becoming a more long-term stay..it went from those few days to a week, and for some, went on to claim their whole summer holidays...
for us, it became a two-week camp at the end of our six weeks off school..the first two were always ireland, the second two were always cornwall, and the last....blaisdon...
at that age, there is nothing more splendid than being bundled into the car, sleeping bags, top trumps and plastic crockery at the ready, about to face whatever the elements threw at you, and to be with those friends who otherwise, we'd see at school or mass and say hi to, but they quickly became these sacred friendships, that were pure camping ties only..
we and the other kids would spend our days roaming around blaisdon forest, getting legs scraped and the occasional limb broken..we loved it. every morning, we'd have our cereal and juice, and then we'd be off! they wouldn't see us til sandwiches and hula hoops for lunch..there was an outdoor pool, bikes and skateboards, a treacherous rope swing right in the heart of the forest (no, you're right, i never, ever went on it...)
what we later learned was that during those long, sunny mornings, the parents would do their morning chores (sweep out the tent, sort the frozen blocks in the cool boxes, and generally potter about...
but then, they would then convene, not long before we'd come hurtling back for lunch, for their morning coffee....now, most of these people are pillars of the community, back home twelve miles away: teachers, nurses, housewives, accountants..but on camp, they're different...they're irish, in the main, and so it was the daily routine that the jamesons would get liberally snuck into these morning coffees, and if we got back a bit too late, we'd be getting our own lunch, if you know what i mean..
then more play, until dinner..the dads would always have their barbeques in a huddle, and would talk as men do over cooking, while the mothers (and usually daughters) would peel the spuds, wash the salad and dig the ketchup out of the cool box...and we'd eat together, sharing food, and rola cola, and wine...
but come the evening..!
now that was when the real fun would start....around seven, or as soon as the dinner was done and the tedious washing-up-over-a-makeshift-washing-up-stand over with, the fire would be lit, and the games begin..those usual campfire games of 'my granny likes...' and 'in my bag i packed..' and in the early nineties, always one of the boys (or more) would be too cool for skool, and sit with their gameboys until they realised everyone else as having more fun than they were!
and then my dad would arrive, usually after a small nap, guitar in hand, beard full and funny, and he'd sing..we'd all sing..there can't be too many groups of kids like us who know the words to so many irish songs and english folk songs and beatles and old american rock and roll and a bit of the blues and the hollies and simon and garfunkel songs...i think we may be a rare breed...and so it would go....
depending on your age, you would be sent off to bed in stages, torch in hand, the song 'goodnight fiona [or insert other name], goodnight fiona..' ringing in your ears, minding for guy ropes and hoping no bugs were in your bed waiting for you...usually some high jinks or other would follow, a stolen sleeping bag here, someone falling down the hill there....and we'd go to sleep with the sound of our parents singing and laughing and hunting for more wine in that famed cool box later in the night...
and in the morning, we'd wake with that horrible 'oh god i'm so hot get me out of here' feeling and have to get out of the tent asap, hungry for breakfast and for another day of fun.
even the rain didn't stop us. if it came, it invariably poured, and we'd have to stay inside...rummy and crazy eights and shithead were our card games of choice, monopoly would last all day..top trumps never failed to keep us out of trouble, at least for a couple of hours, and we were never, ever bored....
truth is, last year was pretty much the same...
i want my summer camping fun!! let the shire dry out please lord, if only for tradition not to be broken...and also, its not that much fun in the flood....
i say that, knowing that my parents are on their way out to the field RIGHT NOW to put the tent up..mum reckons its a balmy evening, so they're putting out their branch and seeing what happens..
hurrah!
lunes, julio 23, 2007
muchas gracias..
for the many enquiries as to my family's health and wellbeing in my poor beleagured, flooded shire, i thank thee. they are well...and drying out..even considering still going camping...they figure, at least that way, they'll be intentionally without electricity and running water!xx
sábado, julio 21, 2007
at that particular time..
is a lovely, lovely song by the wonderful alanis.
in the story, she talks about these very specific stages in life, mostly in the context of the relationship that the song is about, and the waymarks you set up along the way, like jeremiah, to show yourself the road by which you went...the things that mark out each phase, the outward symbols and the inner motives...and its amazing becuase you get the feeling that in terms of linear time, the stages she's on about are indistinct, and possibly very close together. or they could be years apart, you really don't know..
i realise i am prone to over-analysis, but there is something heartening about realising that at this particular time, things are good.
yes, i have cried this week, once, on monday, in london. it was short-lived and helpful. but that two-minute slot that threatened to wreck hattie's birthday lunch there for a moment (sorry hats..) is not really connected to now. it scary how different your days can be from each other when in theory there should be these seamless threads and ribbons of themes and feelings and priorities moving through day to next day...mais non, its not that easy. see, for me, so many things can shift my mood. and my mood, once altered, sadly can affect alot.
there are about half a dozen songs on my phone right now that if the shuffle lands on one of them, my mood is lifted and brightened. and about the same amount of songs that can nudge me into the slight beginnings of sadness...and then hundreds more that i love, but are just..there...
equally, the appearance of an email in my inbox with the potential of something new to come, possibly in the form of a new pursuit of employment....or maybe an email just saying that penny left me a coment on here...possibly just abebooks trying to plug me a signed copy of harry potter seven...or possibly some stickmen...all these things can appear via gmail in an instant and provoke a grin, a second of whimsy, a small fit of rage, a tirade of anti-american abuse, a one-click purchase of a book i've been waiting two years for...!
things happen to us so rapidly. with so little warning....i can communicate with people in a flash, and this affects me, because to communicate, in more or less any form, is the thing that gets me out of bed in the mornings...this i what i established during my mock interview with hawkes during our manchester-to-hertford-long-drive-down-the-m6 last weekend...
and it seemingly limitless, isn't it...?
when you think about jane and lizzie, and how jane's letter got lost, so lizzie didn't even know about lydia running off with wickham until days after it had happened...that's crazy, right?
my sister is ill in a tent somewhere in north wales today (hugses, if you're up for a rescue mission...?!) and two hundred miles in the other direction, my brother's house got flooded in today's ridiculous rain, my dad got stuck in the flooded forest of dean and my mum got locked out and had to get nick round to break a window..and i know it all!
nothing escapes me..
they're all ok, by the way..i think..
but seriously, how weird is that? that we can know about and respond to and worry for and be involved in things that are happening right now...in faraway places...
let alone my bizarrely-made new acquaintance over the other side of a bloody great ocean, who this week i have heard more of than i have of my mother.
and this affects us. it affects me, anyway...two consecutive days aren't the same when people are in your life, i guess when you choose a life of involvement and community. and nosey-ness! walking home tonight i said something to ben about my nosiness and he rephrased it in a delightful way that made my absurd level of curiosity about people sound like its my super-edifying gift unto the body!
i win
reader, thank you for reading. i think i would write this if no-one read it...but its nice to have you here, all the same...
night loves x
ps: liz, tim and sal can you please note that i have blogged three time today..although its 2.30 am but its still friday in my book...remember those days when everyone blogged so much that three in one day was a regular contest!?
ah, happy days..
wretched facebook..humph...
in the story, she talks about these very specific stages in life, mostly in the context of the relationship that the song is about, and the waymarks you set up along the way, like jeremiah, to show yourself the road by which you went...the things that mark out each phase, the outward symbols and the inner motives...and its amazing becuase you get the feeling that in terms of linear time, the stages she's on about are indistinct, and possibly very close together. or they could be years apart, you really don't know..
i realise i am prone to over-analysis, but there is something heartening about realising that at this particular time, things are good.
yes, i have cried this week, once, on monday, in london. it was short-lived and helpful. but that two-minute slot that threatened to wreck hattie's birthday lunch there for a moment (sorry hats..) is not really connected to now. it scary how different your days can be from each other when in theory there should be these seamless threads and ribbons of themes and feelings and priorities moving through day to next day...mais non, its not that easy. see, for me, so many things can shift my mood. and my mood, once altered, sadly can affect alot.
there are about half a dozen songs on my phone right now that if the shuffle lands on one of them, my mood is lifted and brightened. and about the same amount of songs that can nudge me into the slight beginnings of sadness...and then hundreds more that i love, but are just..there...
equally, the appearance of an email in my inbox with the potential of something new to come, possibly in the form of a new pursuit of employment....or maybe an email just saying that penny left me a coment on here...possibly just abebooks trying to plug me a signed copy of harry potter seven...or possibly some stickmen...all these things can appear via gmail in an instant and provoke a grin, a second of whimsy, a small fit of rage, a tirade of anti-american abuse, a one-click purchase of a book i've been waiting two years for...!
things happen to us so rapidly. with so little warning....i can communicate with people in a flash, and this affects me, because to communicate, in more or less any form, is the thing that gets me out of bed in the mornings...this i what i established during my mock interview with hawkes during our manchester-to-hertford-long-drive-down-the-m6 last weekend...
and it seemingly limitless, isn't it...?
when you think about jane and lizzie, and how jane's letter got lost, so lizzie didn't even know about lydia running off with wickham until days after it had happened...that's crazy, right?
my sister is ill in a tent somewhere in north wales today (hugses, if you're up for a rescue mission...?!) and two hundred miles in the other direction, my brother's house got flooded in today's ridiculous rain, my dad got stuck in the flooded forest of dean and my mum got locked out and had to get nick round to break a window..and i know it all!
nothing escapes me..
they're all ok, by the way..i think..
but seriously, how weird is that? that we can know about and respond to and worry for and be involved in things that are happening right now...in faraway places...
let alone my bizarrely-made new acquaintance over the other side of a bloody great ocean, who this week i have heard more of than i have of my mother.
and this affects us. it affects me, anyway...two consecutive days aren't the same when people are in your life, i guess when you choose a life of involvement and community. and nosey-ness! walking home tonight i said something to ben about my nosiness and he rephrased it in a delightful way that made my absurd level of curiosity about people sound like its my super-edifying gift unto the body!
i win
reader, thank you for reading. i think i would write this if no-one read it...but its nice to have you here, all the same...
night loves x
ps: liz, tim and sal can you please note that i have blogged three time today..although its 2.30 am but its still friday in my book...remember those days when everyone blogged so much that three in one day was a regular contest!?
ah, happy days..
wretched facebook..humph...
viernes, julio 20, 2007
jueves, julio 19, 2007
disinclined..
so you know how i'm a fan of the nightcleaning..?!
well, i just don't seem to have the same oomph for it right now..all this week i set tonight aside, entirely dedicated to an evening at home with nightcleaning and west wing.
instead, i went to the oyster bar with ben after work..we sat in the first sunny evening that manchester has seen for about two months, and talked books, economics, jobs, teaching (him), men (me), summer holidays, manchester:city with a chip on its shoulder, and many other things besides. we each had two pints of gloriously new and appley cider, on very empty stomachs, both felt a bit in the weeds and then went home..and once here, i just can't seem to summon up that verve to get my hoover and dusters out..or even do the washing up!
please don't come round..the place is a mess....
i think its cos i miss drago and i want her to come back to stay again and its some kind of protest
or maybe i just wish i was on holiday and so its some kind of protest about that
or maybe i'm just protesting against the living-alone scenario where its always my turn to do chores
i also miss russell and if he were here, he'd just take me out and then i wouldn't have to look at it!
or maybe i just got season six and have prioritised making sure donna is ok over mopping the kitchen floor
many theories...
that i am lazy wins...!!
donna is ok.
phew
well, i just don't seem to have the same oomph for it right now..all this week i set tonight aside, entirely dedicated to an evening at home with nightcleaning and west wing.
instead, i went to the oyster bar with ben after work..we sat in the first sunny evening that manchester has seen for about two months, and talked books, economics, jobs, teaching (him), men (me), summer holidays, manchester:city with a chip on its shoulder, and many other things besides. we each had two pints of gloriously new and appley cider, on very empty stomachs, both felt a bit in the weeds and then went home..and once here, i just can't seem to summon up that verve to get my hoover and dusters out..or even do the washing up!
please don't come round..the place is a mess....
i think its cos i miss drago and i want her to come back to stay again and its some kind of protest
or maybe i just wish i was on holiday and so its some kind of protest about that
or maybe i'm just protesting against the living-alone scenario where its always my turn to do chores
i also miss russell and if he were here, he'd just take me out and then i wouldn't have to look at it!
or maybe i just got season six and have prioritised making sure donna is ok over mopping the kitchen floor
many theories...
that i am lazy wins...!!
donna is ok.
phew
triumphant return..
..of the 0853...
this morning, running late, i got off the bus in town, and that's where i embark upon the musical daily journey of the 0853..the three songs that walk me from bus to work....its the last seven minutes of my day that's mine until 1700....and so i revel in them, and mark that journey everyday by allowing the songs on my phone to shuffle themselves into a nice motivational medley to kick my ass all the way up the oldham road......to the shiny red door. and this morning, the second i went to get off the bus to start my walk, the shuffle shuffled itself onto 'made up lovesongs' by the guillemots which is currently my favourite song, and then! 'love sweet love' by morcheeba, and then!!! 'the view' by modest mouse...now you really can't ask for more than that from a thursday morning....
and lo!
there was more!
the sun was a-shining...
isn't it...
this morning, running late, i got off the bus in town, and that's where i embark upon the musical daily journey of the 0853..the three songs that walk me from bus to work....its the last seven minutes of my day that's mine until 1700....and so i revel in them, and mark that journey everyday by allowing the songs on my phone to shuffle themselves into a nice motivational medley to kick my ass all the way up the oldham road......to the shiny red door. and this morning, the second i went to get off the bus to start my walk, the shuffle shuffled itself onto 'made up lovesongs' by the guillemots which is currently my favourite song, and then! 'love sweet love' by morcheeba, and then!!! 'the view' by modest mouse...now you really can't ask for more than that from a thursday morning....
and lo!
there was more!
the sun was a-shining...
isn't it...
miércoles, julio 18, 2007
imagine..
ok so i was walking up oldham road this morning (the 08:53, by the way included faded/whole lotta love from the -live from mars- ben harper album and smile like you mean it by the killers..)..and what should i see before me but this, an enormous poster, bearing glad tidings indeed for anyone who loves blustery air, open seas, and adoring fans of wind energy being channelled through those magnificent, benevolent giants otherwise known as wind turbines...
lunes, julio 16, 2007
only got one..
that is the name of a song by frou frou, which i like alot.
today on the bus back from london i was listening to it and thinking about what that means, you only have one life, its your life, make of it what you will...i wondered what it means for me, when lately i am faced with some fairly stark choices, or at least the beginnings of choices, about where i choose to prioritise the time that this one life affords me.
do i choose to marry for love? do i find whoever will have me and see how it goes? do i sell out to the man and go corporate, wearing suits, learning to walk in heels and laughing, certainly, alot less than i do during my current working days...? do i sit to the side of the forces of change, looking on, feeling glad, occasionally applauding, or do i pin up my action slacks and wade on in...? do i pay heed to the fears inside me that keep me awake some nights (less frequently now, you will be pleased to hear..), or do i lend my ear instead to those faithful psalmists who speak of god in the way that reminds me in who it is i put my hope? do i look around and feel envy at the loves, successes and joys of people around me, or do i accept the invitations to join in their loves, to add to and admire their successes and revel in their joys?
i guess none of the above are particularly hard questions, really..they have really quite obvious answers..but not necessarily the answers i can choose at 3am when still awake, or in the changing room at dp when nothing fits...not so easy when i feel frustrated at work, by the limitations of my own skills and experience, and by the lives i see before me everyday in whom i can only play such small a part...not half so easy as you'd think, when i at times feel i may still be waiting outside certain doors with a hope that should long since have died, but that silently persists, even when the door has been quietly but decidedly closed to me...
i do know however that i can trust in jesus to quicken my decision-making, as he has already over the years..
now though, i choose decaf tea, a hot bath and the joys of bed-time radio four...
night loves..x
today on the bus back from london i was listening to it and thinking about what that means, you only have one life, its your life, make of it what you will...i wondered what it means for me, when lately i am faced with some fairly stark choices, or at least the beginnings of choices, about where i choose to prioritise the time that this one life affords me.
do i choose to marry for love? do i find whoever will have me and see how it goes? do i sell out to the man and go corporate, wearing suits, learning to walk in heels and laughing, certainly, alot less than i do during my current working days...? do i sit to the side of the forces of change, looking on, feeling glad, occasionally applauding, or do i pin up my action slacks and wade on in...? do i pay heed to the fears inside me that keep me awake some nights (less frequently now, you will be pleased to hear..), or do i lend my ear instead to those faithful psalmists who speak of god in the way that reminds me in who it is i put my hope? do i look around and feel envy at the loves, successes and joys of people around me, or do i accept the invitations to join in their loves, to add to and admire their successes and revel in their joys?
i guess none of the above are particularly hard questions, really..they have really quite obvious answers..but not necessarily the answers i can choose at 3am when still awake, or in the changing room at dp when nothing fits...not so easy when i feel frustrated at work, by the limitations of my own skills and experience, and by the lives i see before me everyday in whom i can only play such small a part...not half so easy as you'd think, when i at times feel i may still be waiting outside certain doors with a hope that should long since have died, but that silently persists, even when the door has been quietly but decidedly closed to me...
i do know however that i can trust in jesus to quicken my decision-making, as he has already over the years..
now though, i choose decaf tea, a hot bath and the joys of bed-time radio four...
night loves..x
viernes, julio 06, 2007
friday i'm...at home..
when we were about seventeen, me and nick were walking home from the pub, half-cut and meandering. i looked and saw he was walking down the middle of the road..'nick' says i, 'why are you walking down the middle of the road?'. 'because i can...whenever anyone asks you that question, the answer is always 'because i can' repeat after me..'because i can, because i can..'etc etc....'
i love this apartment..
my friends are in a barn, chilly and playing games and catching up..
but as per the last-but-one post, i have again shied away from the gaggle..because i can.
god is here, as well as in the crowd, and i know that right now for sure..
a friend today seemed to intimate that god, once lost, however temporarily, should probably or could maybe be chased down with tears, and travaille...
i know that feeling. he's so far, just so horribly far sometimes. and so disinterested, unmoved. unapproachable
another friend owned to me today that god is nearer now to her than at any known recent time, that weird things are happening, that faith seems vivid and honest once more.
i really think its just when we think we have fathomed our place with him, near or far from him, as we perceive it, that's the second he decides he's going to prove just how wrong we are. not out of spite, or out of us needing to be put in our place (although clearly we do need that..) but just because he delights to. and because he can.
i have lately been stirred to simply ask for the new.
a week ago i sat in here, in my lounge with da costa, and talked of how stale things feel, not that things were awful, but that vibrancy was lacking..urgency, news, coloUr, discovery...all dried up...and so later, in my bed with jesus listening, i asked, 'something new please'..and a week later:
new friends. check.
new sleep levels. check.
new prospects and ideas for the future. check.
new ideas of things to write about. check.
and these are no small things, friends, this is the stuff we're always on the look out for, connections and pathways, challenges to the ordinary, assumed and aged.
ask for the new. its not that hard. 'something new please.'
i love this apartment..
my friends are in a barn, chilly and playing games and catching up..
but as per the last-but-one post, i have again shied away from the gaggle..because i can.
god is here, as well as in the crowd, and i know that right now for sure..
a friend today seemed to intimate that god, once lost, however temporarily, should probably or could maybe be chased down with tears, and travaille...
i know that feeling. he's so far, just so horribly far sometimes. and so disinterested, unmoved. unapproachable
another friend owned to me today that god is nearer now to her than at any known recent time, that weird things are happening, that faith seems vivid and honest once more.
i really think its just when we think we have fathomed our place with him, near or far from him, as we perceive it, that's the second he decides he's going to prove just how wrong we are. not out of spite, or out of us needing to be put in our place (although clearly we do need that..) but just because he delights to. and because he can.
i have lately been stirred to simply ask for the new.
a week ago i sat in here, in my lounge with da costa, and talked of how stale things feel, not that things were awful, but that vibrancy was lacking..urgency, news, coloUr, discovery...all dried up...and so later, in my bed with jesus listening, i asked, 'something new please'..and a week later:
new friends. check.
new sleep levels. check.
new prospects and ideas for the future. check.
new ideas of things to write about. check.
and these are no small things, friends, this is the stuff we're always on the look out for, connections and pathways, challenges to the ordinary, assumed and aged.
ask for the new. its not that hard. 'something new please.'
someone asked me today to describe my family
and as i wrote, i found myself getting more and more choked..until right now, i have had to leave the descriptive narrative and sneak away..to here...
i am properly crying..!! how can i love my family so much!?! is this weird!?
thing is if i sit and think about them, and how lovely they are, and how much the five of us can live life laughing and drinking together, with this whole mutual adoration thing going on...it makes me cry a little bit!!
and i love that the small, young families around me here have so much of this to look forward to..to their twenty-something-year-old children having a small weep at their computer one day when they sit for a moment and ponder just how lovely it is to be loved like this...
can't wait to see it guys.
and as i wrote, i found myself getting more and more choked..until right now, i have had to leave the descriptive narrative and sneak away..to here...
i am properly crying..!! how can i love my family so much!?! is this weird!?
thing is if i sit and think about them, and how lovely they are, and how much the five of us can live life laughing and drinking together, with this whole mutual adoration thing going on...it makes me cry a little bit!!
and i love that the small, young families around me here have so much of this to look forward to..to their twenty-something-year-old children having a small weep at their computer one day when they sit for a moment and ponder just how lovely it is to be loved like this...
can't wait to see it guys.
lunes, julio 02, 2007
or so i thought..
i surprise myself lately
on an increasingly frequent basis, i find myself leaving crowds, or even small gaggles of friends, in favour of my apartment and the quiet.
who on earth knew?!
how could i, the most middle of all middle-children, turn out to not be the extreme extrovert but to in fact now crave time alone, my sofa, my pottering, my journalling, my west wing, my dinners cooked by me and for me and eaten just by me?
also how could i be revisiting the idea of working in governance or highly professional and competitive and powerful organisational structures again, when i love the small, individualised, non-suit-wearing aspects of my current work?
this is how:
my two huighest scoring results:
ISTJ 62%
ISFJ 63%
i'm not enfp at all!
i'd never done the test to come up with enfp, but i'd just always assumed i was an extrovert, that i was feeling and impulsive and emotional and perceptive, and therefore, an enfp
i'm not saying i'm converted to the life of an istj, but i do find it fascinating that i can have at least partially have been so wrong about myself!
when you consider that insecurity, in its more inherent and extreme forms, either drives people to absolute all-out attention-seeking, or it drives people into their inner cave where facing people isn't an option, i have to therefore conclude that having never given time to the idea of spending time alone, and always having been to frightened of silence, and all the damage it can allow in one's head, i ran toward people, toward their attention and time and affirmation. i still need and want those things, but since moving to my beautiful apartment, i have discovered that time spent alone is valuable, life-giving, and frankly quite lovely...
on an increasingly frequent basis, i find myself leaving crowds, or even small gaggles of friends, in favour of my apartment and the quiet.
who on earth knew?!
how could i, the most middle of all middle-children, turn out to not be the extreme extrovert but to in fact now crave time alone, my sofa, my pottering, my journalling, my west wing, my dinners cooked by me and for me and eaten just by me?
also how could i be revisiting the idea of working in governance or highly professional and competitive and powerful organisational structures again, when i love the small, individualised, non-suit-wearing aspects of my current work?
this is how:
my two huighest scoring results:
ISTJ 62%
ISFJ 63%
i'm not enfp at all!
i'd never done the test to come up with enfp, but i'd just always assumed i was an extrovert, that i was feeling and impulsive and emotional and perceptive, and therefore, an enfp
i'm not saying i'm converted to the life of an istj, but i do find it fascinating that i can have at least partially have been so wrong about myself!
when you consider that insecurity, in its more inherent and extreme forms, either drives people to absolute all-out attention-seeking, or it drives people into their inner cave where facing people isn't an option, i have to therefore conclude that having never given time to the idea of spending time alone, and always having been to frightened of silence, and all the damage it can allow in one's head, i ran toward people, toward their attention and time and affirmation. i still need and want those things, but since moving to my beautiful apartment, i have discovered that time spent alone is valuable, life-giving, and frankly quite lovely...
am scared i like it too much now! come get me out of my cave, people! (don't really, i like it..)
i still feel pretty convinced than i am way more of an n that i am an s...
i guess i shouldn't be so sure...
martes, junio 26, 2007
notes on psalms to go to sleep to
i learned along time ago that psalms are the most helpful thing in the night for restoring hope and crow-barring you open to the idea of believing in god in the middle of it all
after a wonderful, peaceful treat of an evening (i got taken to room for a late supper with two of my favourite people..its my favourite place..and i ate what i think is the best thing they make...you can't argue with a night like that, can you...?!) i arrived home, yawned my way through -today in parliament- my nightly radio four ritual, and then turned, as i have so many times before, to the 70's psalms. the last couple of weeks' bout of not sleeping has somehow not involved me remembering the 70's psalms' previous success at helping me to regain some sort of internal balance, and thereby enabling sleep...how i could have forgotten about them, i'm not sure...thanks to a helpful textual reminder or two throughout the evening, though, i found myself once more at this...
(its a different version than i would normally prefer, but in the heap of books that lives by my bed, the message was the only good book available..)
pslam 77..
after a wonderful, peaceful treat of an evening (i got taken to room for a late supper with two of my favourite people..its my favourite place..and i ate what i think is the best thing they make...you can't argue with a night like that, can you...?!) i arrived home, yawned my way through -today in parliament- my nightly radio four ritual, and then turned, as i have so many times before, to the 70's psalms. the last couple of weeks' bout of not sleeping has somehow not involved me remembering the 70's psalms' previous success at helping me to regain some sort of internal balance, and thereby enabling sleep...how i could have forgotten about them, i'm not sure...thanks to a helpful textual reminder or two throughout the evening, though, i found myself once more at this...
(its a different version than i would normally prefer, but in the heap of books that lives by my bed, the message was the only good book available..)
pslam 77..
1 I yell out to my God, I yell with all my might, I yell at the top of my lungs. He listens. 2-6 I found myself in trouble and went looking for my Lord; my life was an open wound that wouldn't heal. When friends said, "Everything will turn out all right," I didn't believe a word they said. I remember God—and shake my head. I bow my head—then wring my hands. I'm awake all night—not a wink of sleep; I can't even say what's bothering me. I go over the days one by one, I ponder the years gone by. I strum my lute all through the night, wondering how to get my life together. 7-10 Will the Lord walk off and leave us for good? Will he never smile again? Is his love worn threadbare? Has his salvation promise burned out? Has God forgotten his manners? Has he angrily stalked off and left us? "Just my luck," I said. "The High God goes out of business just the moment I need him." 11-12 Once again I'll go over what God has done, lay out on the table the ancient wonders; I'll ponder all the things you've accomplished, and give a long, loving look at your acts. 13-15 O God! Your way is holy! No god is great like God! You're the God who makes things happen; you showed everyone what you can do— You pulled your people out of the worst kind of trouble, rescued the children of Jacob and Joseph. 16-19 Ocean saw you in action, God, saw you and trembled with fear; Deep Ocean was scared to death. Clouds belched buckets of rain, Sky exploded with thunder, your arrows flashing this way and that. From Whirlwind came your thundering voice, Lightning exposed the world, Earth reeled and rocked. You strode right through Ocean, walked straight through roaring Ocean, but nobody saw you come or go. 20 Hidden in the hands of Moses and Aaron, You led your people like a flock of sheep.
lunes, junio 25, 2007
the week that almost was..
So after a week of blissful, heavy, helpful and uninterrupted sleep, I crashed and burned last night, awake more or less til about five…
I really thought I was done
I feel sadder than before!
This blows
I really thought I was done
I feel sadder than before!
This blows
jueves, junio 21, 2007
and..
once more into the deep sleep, my friends..
we have two nights, friends, two nights in a row...
god is good
amen?
xx
we have two nights, friends, two nights in a row...
god is good
amen?
xx
miércoles, junio 20, 2007
pea? what pea?
i slept like the princess when the pea had been taken away last night, friends..and i had a nap after work..its all getting back on track
thank the lord
thank the lord
martes, junio 19, 2007
night report..
it makes no sense to me that even though my bed looks like this:
i couldn't sleep again last night
i gave in at 3.30 and watched an episode of the west wing..did the trick, sent me off to politically-motivated sleep....in that episode , the president was getting therapy about his recent bout of insomnia..i went tot sleep safe int eh knowledge that i am not alone, that it happens to the best of us....i wish that guy from chicago hope would come and help me figure out why its happening to me as well though! jed might be able to afford $375 an hour, but alas...
jueves, junio 14, 2007
confessions of an insomniac..
i'm not a full-time insomniac, but i think i could qualify anyway..i sleep less than i need to, more often than i would like...
last night i think i slept for about two hours...
it is a trait i fear i may have inherited from my mother. fiona, if reading this, will no doubt do that eye-rolling thing she does when i do or say something that highlights how similar i am to our mother, in the light of her having got away with being not very similar to her at all.....!!
in the sleep department, fiona is a gifted and talented young thing, she has anaptitude for sleep like no-one i know...
how does that work?! we have the same mother!
its a capacity for fretting that gets you into sleeplessness. she appears not to have been saddled with that one either!! but alas i have, and so i seek peace and pursue it.
when i first became friends with the lord, i sought peace like i was on a peace-seeking mission. i had guns and everything.
i'm joking of course
but even as a child i had a period of a few months when sleep eluded me, when i was about eight...
fun, hey?!
i'm not sure why i'm putting this on here, but its something about me that you may not know. and it sucks.
last night i think i slept for about two hours...
it is a trait i fear i may have inherited from my mother. fiona, if reading this, will no doubt do that eye-rolling thing she does when i do or say something that highlights how similar i am to our mother, in the light of her having got away with being not very similar to her at all.....!!
in the sleep department, fiona is a gifted and talented young thing, she has anaptitude for sleep like no-one i know...
how does that work?! we have the same mother!
its a capacity for fretting that gets you into sleeplessness. she appears not to have been saddled with that one either!! but alas i have, and so i seek peace and pursue it.
when i first became friends with the lord, i sought peace like i was on a peace-seeking mission. i had guns and everything.
i'm joking of course
but even as a child i had a period of a few months when sleep eluded me, when i was about eight...
fun, hey?!
i'm not sure why i'm putting this on here, but its something about me that you may not know. and it sucks.
lunes, junio 11, 2007
a well-earned break..
for you, dear readers, from my blogslack..
you may not actually want such a break, you may well have given up reading this page long ago in my absence, but here i am, to break the silence (again!)
for my beleaguered body, from nicotine..
at the start of this year i realised that once june arrived, it would bring with it a solemn mark of ten-years-since i started smoking. i have now stopped smoking. and yes i will believe you when you say you have heard it before. you have. but such as it is, i quit.
for jesus, from the bad press he too often gets from me on these pages
i love him. he did and spoke and made some wonderful things in me and for me this weekend. and has brought this last year's season of gloom to an abrupt and welcome end, as only he can. i remembered the merits of pushing in and persisting in asking, and all that's subsequent joy...i relived that feeling - long missing in my life- of knowing that jesus is right there. right there...amazing..
for me, from work, for a week
it started here and moved to swansea and thence to gloucester and via a wedding with barn-dancing, moved swiftly onto barcelona and a full, all-out strike from weight watchers for the duration of my stay there. i ate lovely food, took lots of photos and made some new friends. i finished reading the tipping point, and anyone who's made it that far will know that it is a truly fascinating book, with a full-hearted recommendation from me..i stayed at sara's, where the sagrada familia was literally outside my window..i drank wine with lunch, as a rule, and very very much enjoyed the biggest bonus of my new special needs contact lenses - getting to wear my enormous sunglasses!! i had a right lovely time, and came back not sorted but readier than ever to get myself together and move on from feeling rubbish...
so i then took a break from taking a break from church and all its associated events, and attended much of the rising tide prayer conference over the weekend. and there i took a break from being an asshole. and i let god tell me off, love me up and get me out...
he's good at that.x
you may not actually want such a break, you may well have given up reading this page long ago in my absence, but here i am, to break the silence (again!)
for my beleaguered body, from nicotine..
at the start of this year i realised that once june arrived, it would bring with it a solemn mark of ten-years-since i started smoking. i have now stopped smoking. and yes i will believe you when you say you have heard it before. you have. but such as it is, i quit.
for jesus, from the bad press he too often gets from me on these pages
i love him. he did and spoke and made some wonderful things in me and for me this weekend. and has brought this last year's season of gloom to an abrupt and welcome end, as only he can. i remembered the merits of pushing in and persisting in asking, and all that's subsequent joy...i relived that feeling - long missing in my life- of knowing that jesus is right there. right there...amazing..
for me, from work, for a week
it started here and moved to swansea and thence to gloucester and via a wedding with barn-dancing, moved swiftly onto barcelona and a full, all-out strike from weight watchers for the duration of my stay there. i ate lovely food, took lots of photos and made some new friends. i finished reading the tipping point, and anyone who's made it that far will know that it is a truly fascinating book, with a full-hearted recommendation from me..i stayed at sara's, where the sagrada familia was literally outside my window..i drank wine with lunch, as a rule, and very very much enjoyed the biggest bonus of my new special needs contact lenses - getting to wear my enormous sunglasses!! i had a right lovely time, and came back not sorted but readier than ever to get myself together and move on from feeling rubbish...
so i then took a break from taking a break from church and all its associated events, and attended much of the rising tide prayer conference over the weekend. and there i took a break from being an asshole. and i let god tell me off, love me up and get me out...
he's good at that.x
domingo, mayo 27, 2007
holy mammon..
oh dear sweet jesus...
i went to the trafford centre today..yes, that's right. i, na of the lowly shire, went to the holy of holies of shoe-worhip and visa offerings and cosmetic atonement..
on a bank holiday weekend
in half-term
literally, it seemed the world and his wife and his neighbour and their screaming two-year-olds were there, and all trying to spend money and fill their bags and pockets with things to make them happy
consumerism rules, sally declared, as we trumphed in finding a parking space after half-an-hour of looking.., and we joined the throng about to begin the five-mile hike from the car-park which as far as we could tell was in chorlton, to the sacred shopping space..
it glows, its glows with sale signs and electronic tags on clothes and phone-tariff offers and all-you-can-eats and fountains befitting most palaces and chip-and-pins and tired, streched arms from the increasing bag-loads....
truth be told, i got what i needed, an outfit from shona's wedding next week, in the first ten minutes...but then, i had the necessary and more more enjoyable hunt for accessories....and sally needed shoes..and a hat...its all wedding-related, its all-important, its all-consumering..
and so we passed several hours, mooching, getting lost, taking wrong turns, hissing at couples who walk at a snail's pace in front of you, their hands in each-others' back pockets, and booed at screaming tearaways and (i, at least) glared at parents who not only have buggies but then one pushes the buggy while one takes the child out and "walks" with them holding their hand on what may only realistically be the second day that child has been walking...why, why?
its not even that you're in a rush, its sunday, what do you care? but, its more that when you can't rush, you want to..and also that - for me anyway - i hate to feel herded. i mean, its not as bad as ikea where your route is actually planned out and arrowed for you, but still, i just felt like such a statistic. like when you read about language degree students who all end up working in public service administration, or read about facebook in the observer and all the statistics on it, of which you are merely one...
i hate that feeling..
i love my outfit so much though!
its complicated, isn't it, trying to live without material hunger but also enjoying the process of piecing combinations of clothes together in a way that makes you look nice and feel good and, i mean, its your cousin's wedding, you can't turn up looking in a mess....
the whole thing blows my head slightly, that i hate to see people so avidly spending money and accumulating stuff, but at the same time, being in on it, and knowing that to whatever extent, you'll always be in on it...
i went to the trafford centre today..yes, that's right. i, na of the lowly shire, went to the holy of holies of shoe-worhip and visa offerings and cosmetic atonement..
on a bank holiday weekend
in half-term
literally, it seemed the world and his wife and his neighbour and their screaming two-year-olds were there, and all trying to spend money and fill their bags and pockets with things to make them happy
consumerism rules, sally declared, as we trumphed in finding a parking space after half-an-hour of looking.., and we joined the throng about to begin the five-mile hike from the car-park which as far as we could tell was in chorlton, to the sacred shopping space..
it glows, its glows with sale signs and electronic tags on clothes and phone-tariff offers and all-you-can-eats and fountains befitting most palaces and chip-and-pins and tired, streched arms from the increasing bag-loads....
truth be told, i got what i needed, an outfit from shona's wedding next week, in the first ten minutes...but then, i had the necessary and more more enjoyable hunt for accessories....and sally needed shoes..and a hat...its all wedding-related, its all-important, its all-consumering..
and so we passed several hours, mooching, getting lost, taking wrong turns, hissing at couples who walk at a snail's pace in front of you, their hands in each-others' back pockets, and booed at screaming tearaways and (i, at least) glared at parents who not only have buggies but then one pushes the buggy while one takes the child out and "walks" with them holding their hand on what may only realistically be the second day that child has been walking...why, why?
its not even that you're in a rush, its sunday, what do you care? but, its more that when you can't rush, you want to..and also that - for me anyway - i hate to feel herded. i mean, its not as bad as ikea where your route is actually planned out and arrowed for you, but still, i just felt like such a statistic. like when you read about language degree students who all end up working in public service administration, or read about facebook in the observer and all the statistics on it, of which you are merely one...
i hate that feeling..
i love my outfit so much though!
its complicated, isn't it, trying to live without material hunger but also enjoying the process of piecing combinations of clothes together in a way that makes you look nice and feel good and, i mean, its your cousin's wedding, you can't turn up looking in a mess....
the whole thing blows my head slightly, that i hate to see people so avidly spending money and accumulating stuff, but at the same time, being in on it, and knowing that to whatever extent, you'll always be in on it...
miércoles, mayo 02, 2007
martes, mayo 01, 2007
the age of silence
there is a book, much-aforementioned on these pages, called -the history of love- which is about a book, called -the history of love- in the made up book that the book itself is about, there is a passage called the age of silence
you might say that has been the recent age in the life of my blog.
i apologise.
but on the same note, this morning i was listening as usual to radio four's -today- programme, and heard a piece about some scientists who have concluded that some kinds of apes do in fact communicate with a rudimentary sign language, hand gestures that seem to be well-used and universally understood among whatever that species is.
in the book, there is an age, in the history of love, like we would talk about the bronze age or stone age, called the age of silence, in which all communication is executed via hand gestures and body language.
since most of you haven't read the lovely book, i will tell you right now why it is so lovely.
read this:
"The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people's hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely.
During the Age of Silence, people communicated more, not less. Basic survival demanded that the hands were almost never still, and so it was only during sleep (and sometimes not even then) that people were not saying something or other. No distinction was made between the gestures of language and the gestures of life. The labor of building a house, say, or preparing a meal was no less an expression than making the sign for I love you or I feel serious. When a hand was used to shield one's face when frightened by a loud noise something was being said, and when fingers were used to pick up what someone had dropped something was being said; and even when the hands were at rest, that, too, was saying something. Naturally, there were misunderstandings. There were times when a finger might have been lifted to scratch a nose, and if casual eye contact was made with one's lover just then, the lover might accidentally take it to be the gesture, not at all dissimilar, for Now I realize I was wrong to love you. These mistakes were heartbreaking. And yet, because people knew how easily they could happen, because they didn't go around with the illusion that they understood perfectly the things other people said, they were used to interrupting each other to ask if they'd understood correctly. Sometimes these misunderstandings were even desirable, since they gave people a reason to say, Forgive me, I was only scratching my nose. Of course I know I've always been right to love you. Because of the frequency of these mistakes, over time the gesture for asking forgiveness evolved into the simplest form. Just to open your palm was to say: Forgive me."
ahhhh
read it, breathe it in...lovely, isn't it?!
now, that was complete gratuitously lazy blogging there on my part, not even my own words but just giving your someone else's so i can feel blog-satisfied. again, i apologise
in other news, i have new shoes..a new boss..new things to do at work..the wedding season is upon me, i have been drunk twice in the last week (i like to think those last two are not, as yet, connected!)
i have started reading -cloud atlas- for the imminent reconvening of book club, and i have booked my mini holiday to the swansea seaside for a few weeks' time...
its been all-go, you see....
i spent a delightful day at the skate park on sunday, feeling old and frumpy but in spite of all that i enjoyed it alot. it was slightly reminiscent of being on the stall with russell, peskykids everywhere and no-one knowing what's going on.
i have been being challenged, of late, to write more. and more intentionally, with more than just passing the time (my own or yours..) in mind, but with a mind to actually saying something, in the small vain hope that someone who doesn't already love me might want to read it. might even like it.
also, hands up who remembers the lawyer-debate, of this sort of time last year...?! that was fun, hey, how glad am i that it was just a journey and not a destination! well anyway a new wave of job scoping has swept over me, its a wave made up of dread, fear, and yet more dread, for the vision slash big idea is me running away from the idea of training to be a social worker.
nnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i hear you cry
no wait, that was me...
thing is, i've never met a happy social worker....or a healthy one, rarely a nice one..they don't have time to be nice, or energy to be happy, or freedom to fix things or money to sort stuff out..the list goes on...
i really hope its just one of those stepping-stone things, you know..you think about something for a while, you get good and bad ideas about it, you figure out a bit more about what you actually want or are capable of, and a whole load more about what you don't want to do or be or become, and then you move on, better informed and with another thing crossed off the list...
that's what i'm hoping this is all about.
turns out though, the uk social work qualification is more or less -translated- the exact same as the spanish one...
that's the part that scares me, you see, because eventually after nine months of being back after barcelona, when god finally decided to tell me why i was back and what the deal was, part of the deal was that i wouldn't go back to spain until i had qualified in something that was actually needed in spain, unlike more tefl teachers who are now vastly underemployed and becoming beach bums instead...
so you know, i don't know...i don't have The Fear like i did with the lawyer thing, but i think that's mainly because i'm banking on it just being a bit of a lark for a few weeks til god let's me move on...
who's with me...!?!?!
well, its nice to be back...love you x x
you might say that has been the recent age in the life of my blog.
i apologise.
but on the same note, this morning i was listening as usual to radio four's -today- programme, and heard a piece about some scientists who have concluded that some kinds of apes do in fact communicate with a rudimentary sign language, hand gestures that seem to be well-used and universally understood among whatever that species is.
in the book, there is an age, in the history of love, like we would talk about the bronze age or stone age, called the age of silence, in which all communication is executed via hand gestures and body language.
since most of you haven't read the lovely book, i will tell you right now why it is so lovely.
read this:
"The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people's hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely.
During the Age of Silence, people communicated more, not less. Basic survival demanded that the hands were almost never still, and so it was only during sleep (and sometimes not even then) that people were not saying something or other. No distinction was made between the gestures of language and the gestures of life. The labor of building a house, say, or preparing a meal was no less an expression than making the sign for I love you or I feel serious. When a hand was used to shield one's face when frightened by a loud noise something was being said, and when fingers were used to pick up what someone had dropped something was being said; and even when the hands were at rest, that, too, was saying something. Naturally, there were misunderstandings. There were times when a finger might have been lifted to scratch a nose, and if casual eye contact was made with one's lover just then, the lover might accidentally take it to be the gesture, not at all dissimilar, for Now I realize I was wrong to love you. These mistakes were heartbreaking. And yet, because people knew how easily they could happen, because they didn't go around with the illusion that they understood perfectly the things other people said, they were used to interrupting each other to ask if they'd understood correctly. Sometimes these misunderstandings were even desirable, since they gave people a reason to say, Forgive me, I was only scratching my nose. Of course I know I've always been right to love you. Because of the frequency of these mistakes, over time the gesture for asking forgiveness evolved into the simplest form. Just to open your palm was to say: Forgive me."
ahhhh
read it, breathe it in...lovely, isn't it?!
now, that was complete gratuitously lazy blogging there on my part, not even my own words but just giving your someone else's so i can feel blog-satisfied. again, i apologise
in other news, i have new shoes..a new boss..new things to do at work..the wedding season is upon me, i have been drunk twice in the last week (i like to think those last two are not, as yet, connected!)
i have started reading -cloud atlas- for the imminent reconvening of book club, and i have booked my mini holiday to the swansea seaside for a few weeks' time...
its been all-go, you see....
i spent a delightful day at the skate park on sunday, feeling old and frumpy but in spite of all that i enjoyed it alot. it was slightly reminiscent of being on the stall with russell, peskykids everywhere and no-one knowing what's going on.
i have been being challenged, of late, to write more. and more intentionally, with more than just passing the time (my own or yours..) in mind, but with a mind to actually saying something, in the small vain hope that someone who doesn't already love me might want to read it. might even like it.
also, hands up who remembers the lawyer-debate, of this sort of time last year...?! that was fun, hey, how glad am i that it was just a journey and not a destination! well anyway a new wave of job scoping has swept over me, its a wave made up of dread, fear, and yet more dread, for the vision slash big idea is me running away from the idea of training to be a social worker.
nnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i hear you cry
no wait, that was me...
thing is, i've never met a happy social worker....or a healthy one, rarely a nice one..they don't have time to be nice, or energy to be happy, or freedom to fix things or money to sort stuff out..the list goes on...
i really hope its just one of those stepping-stone things, you know..you think about something for a while, you get good and bad ideas about it, you figure out a bit more about what you actually want or are capable of, and a whole load more about what you don't want to do or be or become, and then you move on, better informed and with another thing crossed off the list...
that's what i'm hoping this is all about.
turns out though, the uk social work qualification is more or less -translated- the exact same as the spanish one...
that's the part that scares me, you see, because eventually after nine months of being back after barcelona, when god finally decided to tell me why i was back and what the deal was, part of the deal was that i wouldn't go back to spain until i had qualified in something that was actually needed in spain, unlike more tefl teachers who are now vastly underemployed and becoming beach bums instead...
so you know, i don't know...i don't have The Fear like i did with the lawyer thing, but i think that's mainly because i'm banking on it just being a bit of a lark for a few weeks til god let's me move on...
who's with me...!?!?!
well, its nice to be back...love you x x
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)
