Back From Death

It would appear that as new tradition has been born: Two days after my birthday I come down with something disgusting and near deathly. This year did not disappoint! I don't so much mind being sick really. I quite like the excuse to sit and watch TV for 20 hours and doze in and out, drifting in a world of semi-reality. My Illnesses somehow manages to make me feel like I'm in a dimension of floatiness which I grow fond of and actually miss right now.

Until.

Until I start getting a niggling feeling that something is wrong. Until I start believing that there are people downstairs, outside my window in the night - waiting for the first chance of sighting me to pounce and attack me. I develop an incomparable paranoia on my 3rd day of illness. The day that I am not really deathly sick anymore, just too sick to actually do anything worthwhile with myself, the time of sickness that I drag myself out of bed wearing something black I had to pull out of the dirty laundry, covered in cat hairs (um.. I don't own a cat. How did they get there?) I come into work and they tell me to JUST GO HOME because I look like I might actually pass out in front of my computer screen.

The Paranoia makes me believe things that can't possibly be true. Like my fiance has fallen out of love with me because I made that comment about his socks earlier in the day. That my fiance has been attacked on his way out to the shops and is surely dead, and I'm sat on the couch knowing that my demand for chicken soup has been the death of him. My mind goes into minute detail of the call I'm going to get from the police and my guilt for years to come knowing that if I hadn't been sick, my fiance wouldn't have died. Knowing that I, myself, would die alone and heartbroken after years of pining for my One True Love.

My paranoia is fuelled mightily by my over-active imagination. People at work are plotting my termination because they can't believe that I could dare to call in sick, and they actually realise that 'what does Rachel do around here anyway? Let's get rid of her!' That I will walk into the office with people hissing and spitting at me, someone crawling from the corner hissing 'Boo!! Boo!!' (Anyone watch Princess Bride lately?)

It's always a mild surprise when I step out of the house feeling vaguely human, get the bus, walk to work, sit down, turn on the computer and carry on with normal life. Nothing has changed, I was just sick.

It's not the end of the world.

It's funny, because it's true.

The card I received from my best friend:

26

A year ago this week I was writing a blog post about my unhappiness, my despair at turning 25 and really having nothing to show for it. I was in a crisis and I couldn't see a way out.

Tomorrow, I turn 26. I am not panicking, I am feeling quite mature. This past year has been so amazingly good for me. It has rejuvinated my sense of hope, my sense of ability to change my own circumstances. I had given up on hoping and looking to the future. Just when I was giving up, my own depression gave me a lift and Oh My Word I cannot believe how much better I am today.

My boyfriend of years and years whisked me away to Paris to propose. Last year I was scared to even bring up the topic of marriage because we'd get in an argument and then we'd both end up just feeling hopeless.

I started a job in a charity, doing something I care about. Last year, I was working in an environment and with people that were sucking away my sense of being. I honestly felt like if I stayed any longer, my sense of self, my ownership of my life, feelings, thoughts were going to be extinguished. Not only was I working in a job that I didn't feel any future in, in a bland, grey existence - but I felt my self was disappearing. It has honestly taken from May when I started my new job, to now to get myself back to normal. I have started breathing easy again, started to be myself. I don't have to second guess what I'm about to say, I can feel and think and react honestly and my environment encourages me. I have amazing opportunities with this job that I didn't think would come as easily as they have. I basically have an open ticket to any department: campaigns, policy, research, working with children, etc. etc. etc. And I just have to pick. Now picking.. that's the tough part. But I have a choice!

Last year I felt stuck in England. I had no idea that in the short few months I would be able to travel to Paris, Japan and the States. I now understand that I can NOT become trapped if I actively pursue what I want, and what my wandering feet need. The coming year has so many possibilities that I can rest easy sitting here in England. I am not trapped. It was just my mind that made me that way.

I suppose I realise that hope is never lost. I should never lose sight of what I am aiming for, what I have always wanted. And what I always want is a sense of freedom, a sense that there is hope for new discoveries, new adventures, new excitement. What my problem was last year was that I had given up on hope. Hope in itself is exciting. If I dare to keep on imagining and KNOWING that the future is out there I just have to wait for it... I get excited just thinking about it.

Thank God for Hope.

Happiness

In my job, I am becoming increasingly aware of how depressed everyone is. Not every day in the people that I meet, although a good portion of the people I know do have depression. But depression in the people of England as a whole.

I don't want to write down the name of the inquiry I work for here, in case someone up and finds it and leaves me feeling slightly foolish. But it's basically an inquiry into what effects the wellbeing of children and young people in England today, and what steps we can go towards making it better.

Okay, of course this is a mammoth task. But the one thing that strikes me is how Hapinness and Love come up an awful lot. Children need Love. Children need happiness. Well, don't we all? And when we're talking about happiness, we're not talking about a feeling of glee or 'happiness' that you have when you buy something, or when you eat something. Happiness is indeed something that needs to be looked at on a deeper level - What is it and why is it that happiness is lacking almost everywhere?

I myself am quite a happy person (I think?). I don't like to be negative for very long. There was a period of over a year that made me extremely unhappy, but that had grown from my circumstances and my hatred for my own circumstances. I took control over them and I changed them, and since I have experienced happiness again. Not many depressed people can do that. Mine was born completely out of circumstances. I don't have a chemical imbalance, but I do know several people that do, and it effects their lives every single day.

There are certain things that bring satisfaction and happiness to people's lives - are these things lacking (for the most part) in people's lives? I don't get it. Was depression around long ago, and we just didn't have a name for it? There was no 'cure'? Is depression a new thing? I don't mean to be talking just about depression, but it confuses me.

Is this the curse of modern life? What is 'missing'? Is anything missing at all? Do we no longer know how to seek out happiness in our lives? Was this chemical imbalance around in history? Has it creeped in through the development of modern life, sparking something that was already there?

I suppose I will never know.

Forever Itching

So I'm wondering when this itchy feet thing will ever go away, if my desire to just pack up and leave will ever be sedated. I'm beginning to think not.

Conrad is on tour at the moment, leaving me Single in London. I don't much like being alone, particularly because of the fact that it just reminds me that I want to go. Anywhere. Soon, please.

I sit around reading facebook and all my friends from here there and everywhere. They speak of Manila and of the rain and sun and school. They speak of my teenager years, of my past. I want to go there. It seems that everyone from those days wants to go back - planning quick trips over Christmas, trying to figure out some way of working there. I miss the way of life, I miss manana . Why do today what you can do tomorrow?

It's difficult when you're homesick for a home that no longer exists. When, in order to go home you have to go the 3 or 4 places at once, and still then - it will not be the same.

I know that if I left London I would miss it. I know that this will never go away, it's just hard to not feel like this when my reason for living here is gone.

Kindred Spirit

Today is the birthday of a spectacular lady, whose loving character, humble nature and playful personality makes me happy everyday. My mom.

I've always been a mommy's girl, which definitely doesn't mean I love my dad any less. Just me and my mom are a lot alike. Conrad comments regularly on things that I say or do that are like my mom - and when we're together he just looks at us as if to say 'now I don't have to deal with just one, but TWO of you??'

My mom and I go to Alton Towers together, usually ending with her forcing me onto the most dangerous and scary ride there is - calling me a scaredy cat if I appear slightly afraid. My mom scours e-bay to look for PlayStation games that we can play together when I'm home, spending hours exploring magical worlds as a team. My mom takes me out for and Indian meal where we sit and talk for hours, eating far too much pasanda.

When I'm sick, there's still no-one better then my mom to make me feel like every thing's going to be okay, and she understands and will do anything to try and make me feel better. The same goes if I'm generally feeling a bit blue. Nothing like a good sympathetic shoulder like my mom.

Quite often you'll find my mother and I singing songs on the top of our lungs that we're making up as we go along, improvisational little testimonies to our likeness. We like to be silly together - it's just fun.

My mom is alone today on her birthday which makes me sad. I hope she realises how many people across the world appreciate and love her, even though they aren't able to tell her every day.

Happy Birthday Mom!!

Nester

There's something exciting about digging through the hordes of shoes at the bottom of my closet, throwing the flipflops behind me in eager anticipation of reaching The Knee-Length Boots. It's October, it's raining, and I want to be cosy. Zipping up my boots, I get a chill from the cold leather lining. The chillsome air starts feeling more welcoming as I tie up my long warm winter coat.

I walk outside in the moisture filled air and push up my umbrella. Today is the first day I need an umbrella, the first day I need my coat, the first day I wear my boots. I'm feeling cosy as I walk to the bus stop, already looking forward to the moments when I get home and feel the shock of warm air on my face.

I love autumn.

I can smell the damp leaves falling from the trees lining my street. I can taste the moisture in the air, trying to creep past my scarf.

I've decided tonight I'm going to read a book. Get home, take a bath, and read in the yellowish light coming in from the street. I realise it's time to free the blue Grandma-knitted blanket from the trunk in the bedroom, wrap it round myself while I drink tea and nibble on whatever biscuits I can reach from my position on the couch.

Greys and blacks and reds and dark browns.

Autumn is here.

My Bizarre Weekend

This evening I will be driving here:

(Knebworth House)

To spend the weekend camping on the grounds and taking part in this:

...Noddy Land.

Rest assured, I will be taking many a photo and will share with you all when I get back.

It's going to be like one LSD-induced weird-human-sized-doll-creatures mixed with Pride-and-Prejudice-grandeur.

Ah, life as an actor's fiance...

Just Cause

So, I'm sat here - slightly bored, slightly cheeky, slightly brimming with nothing-thoughts. Whenever I start to get a bit ancy, I have to float up a bit and try and look at it all from above, from a less-fortunate frame of mind.

The reason I haven't been writing in blog-land is because I no longer feel the need to vent frustrations and share awful moments that are going on in my life. Because there don't seem to be any! My 25th has definitely been a good year (so far!). Marriage proposals, new proper jobs, experiencing new cultures, cutesy little apartment that allows us to whisk ourselves (and any one who happens to be visiting at the time) to the heart of My Favourite City.

Just a side note, I don't know what it is about the capital of England, but there's some kind of force that makes me, a person totally against patriotism and pride of country, feel pride and a sense of belonging so quickly. An article on the BBC the other day quoted research on immigrants in London and it was found that none of them felt English, but that most of them thought of themselves as Londoners. I personally feel that Londoners are a breed of their own; on the most part, an undersatnding, welcoming, vibrant town that seek out new cultures and new traditions whilst at the same time, maintaining an understanding of where it's coming from and pride of history.

Perhaps my favourite thing about London is that it's pretty hard to get bored. And on a weekend with no money, you can walk around and soak up the buzz, soak up the big city vibe and explore.

This year, I have been fortunate enough to travel. And my appetite for travel is not easily satisfied.

1. February saw me whisked off to Paris to be proposed to...

2. I spent a long and cultured (albeit windy) weekend in Brighton, one of the few English towns I hadn't previously been privileged enough to visit.

3. In July I was lucky enough to be invited to a traditional Buddhist Japanese wedding, in Japan...

There are way too many pictures from Japan- I may have to post on them soon!

4. And a week from today I'm flying across the Atlantic to chose myself a wedding dress in the good ol' U S of A.

So when I sit here shivering in this awful grey, windy (will we ever have a British summer again?) little office I can remember that this year has been extremely good to me, and it's still only August.

Yes, things happen that aren't top-notch. Not every day is exciting and full of treats; normal life is full of evenings watching TV shows that you're ashamed of watching, spending far too much time on public transport for your liking, slacking off at work when your boss is away on holiday, whiling away hours on facebook comparing your own life with those you knew when you were 2 years old.

But I'm so glad that when I take a step back and actually think about it, I am fortunate. I'm living a life that I would look forward to as a kid, that I know I'm being truthful to myself and my values and what I think life should be lived like. I take joy in the small things and get excited for absolutely no reason at all.

Big News

I received My Very Own Business Cards today.

I have arrived.

Don't you hate it when...

...You take your camera to an important event and the batteries run out after two pictures..?? Well, don't you?

Here are the couple of pictures that survived from Conrad's mom's 60th Bday party:

Ain't my mama pretty?

By Popular Demand

Well flattery will get you everywhere around here. There is too much to say and too much that I'm feeling right now to speak of emotions and such. My life has woken up again and I wake up in the morning with a purpose. I end the day on Friday with a purpose. I go out to the theatre, I make dates with friends to do things. It's a wonder how circumstances can change your heart.

So without having to go into all my thoughts I thought I would show you what a proper fondue looks like. These pictures were taken on my Birthday in December... I think it's taken me long enough to get around to doing this!!

Fondue, Rachel-style:

1. First and foremostly, have absolutely nothing to do with the cooking of the fondue. This tends to work better when your dad was taught by an Old Swiss Wiseman how to cook fondue, 'secret' ingredients included.

2. Walk around going on about how hungry you are and how good it smells. Snack on plenty of olives - preferably green, but if you substitute for a black one now and then, you should still get the same effect.

3. Set the table as elaborately as humanly possible. Use the china that your parents received as a wedding gift 35 years ago if you have to. This is essential to the 'mood' of your fondue. The fondue does not appreciate being under-valued.

4. Bully your father into making his garlic mushrooms, even though everyone thinks they are wildly inappopriate for fondue.

5. Make a ridiculously English pot of tea, and enjoy with your pinky extended into the air.

6. Snack on mini little tears of fluffy white bread, filling your tummy before you've even started with the best bit.

7. Most Importantly - Enjoy thoroughly.

Poor bloggy!

I feel like my blog is a forgotten-about stuffed toy that I keep away in my room and don't tell anyone about. It's forlorn, it's neglected, it's sat here on it's own with nothing to do. I've moved on to the bigger toys, but it's not my blogs fault. I just don't have the heart to pack it away in a box and store it in the attic, so it sits here waiting. I'm too attached to it, and it might give me some comfort one day when I'm really needing it.

So my stuffed toy will keep it's seat on the top of my cupboard (just out of reach) for now.

Quick Update

I am:

*Shocked by my new boss' intant confidence and faith in me

*Surprised by my own ability to concentrate and work hard.

*Understanding of why I was so depressed in my old job

*Feeling like the old 'Me'

*Happy

*Challenged.

*Realising that I LOVE being challenged.

*Feeling very hopeful for the future.

*Oh... once again, happy.

Summer in the City

Last weekend was endlessly pleasant. I'm discovering that London is a city that thrives in the sunshine. As soon as the sun comes out, everyone is sprawled in the sun and remarkably happier then they were before. It's like a massive prozac pill for the city. I love it.

On Sunday we decided to wander down to Hyde Park and have our first Picnic In The City. It was the same day as the London Marathon, and absolutely everyone was out and about. It was probably the best couple of hours of people watching that I've ever experienced (and the sunglasses most definitely helped in disgusing our nosy eyes!) We were sat amongst kite-flyers, frisbee-throwers, badminton players, and even in close proximity of a 3-man wrestle practice (one guy had his cod-piece on the OUT-SIDE of this trousers. Considering the fact that they looked like they were having some three-way orgy in the park, this did NOT help him look any cooler). There were many couples picnicking, reading books and generally being happy that the sun was out.

After picnic in the park we decided to go to a Greek restaurant that sits on the South Bank of the Thames. We watched the sun go down over London whilst snacking on taramasalata, tsatziki, flat bread, olives, souvlaki, king prawns.. Mmmmm. I just started drooling. The atmosphere was amazing, with a prime view point of St. Paul's Cathedral.

Considering this is our first summery outing of the year, I think it's safe to say that this summer in the city is going to be a good one.

Steak and Ale Pie

Proof that Conrad is so good at cooking and I the reason that I am so good at eating:

That Old Chestnut

Being 25 and all, I seem to be learning more things about myself as I go along. I know this is one of the things that everyone tells us will happen. You become more used to your skin. You grow into yourself. You understand more who you are.

A minor thing I'm beginning to realise is that I have quite an impulsive, slightly obsessive personality. I find something new and go charging gung-ho into the new 'project'. After a couple of months and after many hours of obsessing, constantly thinking about it, centering my life around it, interest tends to wane. I love blogging. I love feeling like there's somewhere I can write. I have always loved writing, I even flirted with the idea of becoming a journalist at one point.

I am also somewhat of a perfectionist. If I do something, I want to do it perfectly. I don't want to do anything half way or without a million per cent of my energy. My dad always described me (not particularly in a good way) as someone who never had any grey. Everything was always blackest black or whitest white - I couldn't have anything in between. I wonder if that is an aspect of perfectionism?

Anyway, the point I'm driving at is that I am finding it difficult to blog right now. There's nothing extremely poetic to talk about, I have no romantic stories, no qwerky descriptions of my daily routine. My need to blog also came from endless hours of boredom at work - this is THANKFULLY no longer the case. Friday is my last day, and it could not come quicker. So I will no longer have 8 hours a day to peruse strangers typed-out lives and dwell on subject titles for a blog post.

Hopefully this won't be the end. Knowing me, as soon as I say I won't blog anymore I'll be posting 10 times a day (remember the whole black or white thing?).

Carrying on in German Tradition

This Easter, my parents reminded me of a tradition we took up whilst living in Germany:

The Easter Tree.

At first you might think this is a bit odd, but it became another special addition to Easter-time. My sister and I would decorate eggs ourselves to hang on the tree along with store-bought equivalents.

I was surprised to find that my mom had been storing these eggs all the while, and it was funny to see what my 10/11 year old mind created. Needless to say, Allie's eggs were always a little more intricate and made a little more sense.

The 'twig' aka 'Easter tree' came from my parent's very own contortia tree outisde.

It's good to bring back old traditions that you forgot even existed.

How To Say?

I want to write a blog post, but I have nothing to say. Right this second I feel a little bit sleepy, a little bit excited, a little bit head-achy, a little bit tanned, a little bit chilly. This week is kind of a non-week. I got back on Sunday night from 10 days away to Manchester (some might say my 'home-town' if I had one of those) and next week is my last week at work. So, nothing much to say about this week. It's a strange limbo-land where I'm on the edge, full of nervous anticipation, but I'm almost there - I'm at the tipping point.

I had soooo much fun in Mancy-town. Mom and I went wedding dress shopping (of which we are NOT finished. I am going to drag this amazingly fun experience on as long as humanly possible - especially if I get some free champagne out of it!) I decided I don't hate strapless as much as I thought. In fact, I'm actually contemplating buying a strapless wedding dress! Who would have thunk it?

We went to go look at yet another wedding chapel which was PERFECT. It is the oldest chapel in the area (late 1800s I think) out in the country. But it was just too small. I would literally walk about 2 steps and be at the front. So, we're in a bit of limbo with that too at the moment.

We have booked our tickets to go to Japan in June/July for Conrad's brother's wedding. I'm looking forward to this, but it's kind of killing me a little bit that we are just a hop-skip and swim away from the Philippines and we're not going to be going there. I always assumed the next time I would be in that part of the world would be to show Conrad the country that remains so firmly stamped on my heart. I'm thinking of just booking a quick flight on my own and going over there for an afternoon! How is it that I still miss it so bad? I really hope it doesn't overshadow the trip to Japan - that I'll be comparing everything to Manila, and looking lustfully across the sea towards my 3rd 'homeland'. I love it so.

Enough randomness for now. When I get home tonight I'm going to post some piccys of our trip to Manchester. We gave the little mini a run for it's money across a large part of England. He held up well.

Meant To Be? I Think So.

The reason I'm being quite sketchy about my new job's description is because I'm a little concerned someone might do a google search looking for it, and find my blog... And I'm not really sure this is how I want to introduce myself into my new life. "Hey guys.. here are all my guts neatly organised and spilt out onto a blog page!! Enjoy!"

What I can and want to say is that it's for a chidren's charity that believe in social justice. There is a small group of people that have come together to research into a cause, and I am going to be the administrator for it. This role seems to fit so neatly into my life right now for a few reasons:

- The only real experience I have in the workplace is pretty much administrational. This is such a good way to use that experience to get in the door, and knock their socks off, then going on to single-handedly save the world.

- My degree was cultural studies/sociology course with a massive emphasis on research. They really seemed to be happy about this.

-My new boss is amazing. She is at the most 35 years old, and she is absolutely everything what I want to be in ten year's time. When I was talking about why I wanted to leave my job and go into charity, she said that she had also worked for Goldman Sachs in a similar role to what I do. The glint in her eye proved to me that she knew EXACTLY what I was talking about and why I was totally at the end of my tether as far as life in this environment goes. She may as well have pulled out a walky talky and whispered "She's one of us! Get. Her. Outta there!"

-At the end of the interview, I actually said "This is all so exciting...!" At the time I thought this may have been the death of me. But I think they actually liked my crazed, inappopriate displays of excitement.

-I was a bit scared about the massive pay cut I was going to have to take to change roles after leaving a blood-sucking money driven environment (that obviously pays quite well). I was given an offer that was quite low yesterday and I was nervous, but it wasn't going to stop me going for the job. Today, my boss called me and told me that she thought the offer they had given me was unfair due to my experience and how much she thinks I'm bringing to the project. She changed her offer. It's still not as much as I'm making now, but it's about half the amount of paycut that I was taking before. I couldn't believe it. I hadn't even mentioned the fact that I was upset about it, she just offered it to me.

-I'm actually going to be helping people. Seriously.

This job has changed my life. And I haven't even started it yet. It fits in to everything that I want to be - I can actually see my future now, and it is so so so happy.

And The Future Seems Sunny

So I went for an interview yesterday at a large children's charity based in London.

About 5 minutes after I got home from the interview, I got a call, and I got the job.

I have been in a state of dis-belief and excitement since yesterday at approximately 5pm. I am so excited. I am so in awe. It's as though everything was meant to be.

I feel peace.

All pieces of my messed up puzzle of a life seem to be fitting together quite well - for the first time ever.

Perhaps I am okay at this 'being an adult' thing after all.

Is it because I'm Postmodern?

Post modernity does not only exist in art and film. Post modernity is a way of life. My sister has claimed many a time that the way I think is very 'postmodern'. But what is it? Why is the term so hard to put your finger on? My degree actually focused on post modernity as a major part of one of my modules. I still find it difficult to define.

Mostly postmodernism is used to describe art, film, and architecture. In this way I have inherently postmodern taste. Among my favourite movies are;

1.) Memento, where the story starts at the conclusion and scene by scene takes it back to the beginning.

2) Mulholland Drive - One of David Lynch's many stylish yet confusing movies. I was spell-bound the entire way through (while my not-so- impressed friends decided to go into the other room). For the next couple of weeks, I asked almost everyone I knew if they had watched it. And if they had, I wanted a full-on discussion about what it all meant. What does the blue box signify?

One of my current favourite pieces of 'art' is an instillation in the Tate Modern. You walk into a dark room with an entire wall that is a screen. The screen is split into about 20 images. In each image there is a different musician from a movie - each screen is going on at the same time - sometimes people are playing trumpets, sometimes they're singing, at one point every single person is playing a different kind of drum. The musicians in each screen do not relate to one another, yet at the same time they compliment each other greatly. Sometimes they clash. It is immensely difficult to describe, but when you're watching it, it evokes immense emotions. (well, for me anyway.)

The Urban Dictionary calls it;

"The idea that there is no objective meaning, only subjective meaning, the meaning one brings to a thing, irrespective of the intent of the author, or of reality."

Many definitions of postmodernism include the word 'rejection' - the idea that it is a response to modernity, or to previous generation’s idea of art and culture. It is perhaps a reaction to structured life. The world has opened up to everybody through television, the internet, in ways people may not have imagined it would. We have more opportunities then before, and people are less happy to be defined, the structures of film and art are fuzzy and unstructured.

"It is the breaking of traditional frames of genre, structure and stylistic unity.. it values the play and juxtaposition of ideas from different contexts"

Due to the globalisation of cultures, there are different influences in our lives that may not have been there before. We are more concerned with a short film clip somebody has created in Japan, more excited by an event taking place in Peru - Everything we read, hear, see becomes a part of our cultural make-up. Therefore our culture gets more varied. This will of course effect the music that is made, the art that is created. Part of our postmodern selves crave new sights, new sounds, new insights. Art becomes the graffiti we see on the way to work, the internet site with letters from anonymous people to unknown recipients.

Why am I going on about this?

This postmodern way of living does not exist only in the cultural aspects of our lives. Perhaps the reason I can't find a job is due to my high expectations. Perhaps it is because I want a piece out of every pie and that just isn't possible? Because we know about what is out there, because we know what is possible, we can not be satisfied? Does our job actually define us like it used to? If so, how does one get the job to define us? And since we are so against being put in a box and 'defined’ how on earth do you figure that one out? Who are we and what are we meant to be doing???

Being of typical postmodern mind, these are just my thoughts at this moment in time. Perhaps tomorrow I will blame something else for my lack of .. fulfillment (for want of a better word). The lethal mixture of TCK-ness and postmodern ideology make it difficult to be decisive about my life, about what I want, about what I should be doing. I sometimes just want to give up trying and just be normal. But there is still the 8 year old inside of me that expects me to be the best I can be, to satisfy the cravings of abnormality and individualism; to make some kind of name for myself in this massive world that is just at the edge of my fingertips.

The PostSecret I wish I had written

www.postsecret.blogspot.com

Tune Me Up

There are a couple of songs I'm listening to at the moment that get me 'right there'. Right in the place that makes me want to copyright the song as my own. Or jump out of the seat and try to teach myself to play the guitar for the 12th time. Or go back in time and become the angst-ridden teen that had enough energy and passion to write poetry late into the night. Or catch a plane, arrive at their home and ask "how is it you know my thoughts?"

1.) Anais Mitchell's child-like voice and unexpected note changes make me a little excited. They also make me want to go read up on my Greek literature so I can keep up with the references in her songs. My favourite at the moment is 'Your Fonder Heart'. The lulling sweet and simple finger-picked guitar mixed with a heart-felt floaty voice;

www.myspace.com/anaismitchell

2) Whilst living in a small town on the border of Switzerland and Germany, there were not too many English-speaking people around and one would tend to hang out with those your own age. One of these such people my own age was a boy called Aaron. I haven't seen him since those early pre-teen years where we would sled, hang out at the playground and shirk our homeschooling hours, getting into as much mischief as possible.

Turns out he made himself into a pretty good songwriter. And decided to write a little ditty about his childhood:

www.myspace.com/aaronpaulbeckum .

I actually try and stop myself from listening to his songs because they really do bring a part of my life back that I feel is personal and private, and it scares me a little bit that someone I haven't seen since I was 12 is out there singing about it. There aren't too many people in the world who can sing about swimming down the rhine in high-time summer time. One particular song 'Breaking Even' has hit it home the past couple of days, at a time when I'm beginning to realise that everywhere I go, something is slightly off. At a time when I kind of just want to pack up the house and go travelling for a year in an overly hot country where I won't know where I am or what date it is.

3) The third one is going a little out of the folk genre and moving swiftly on to some kind of electronica. Artist is Scroobius Pip and song being 'Letter from God to Man'. I don't think this guy is a Christian, and I definitely don't agree with a couple of things he says in the song i.e.: "I was a simple being that happened to be the first to yield such powers". However, this song made me stop in my tracks, gave me chills from my little pinky toe to the bottom of my hairs. I found it extremely beautiful and sad all at the same time:

www.myspace.com/lesacvspip - Letter from God to Man.

Frozen Fingers

We had a bit of mild winter here in London-town, and it appears that Spring is more then making up for it. On Saturday we were walking around in the sunshine with T-shirts, yesterday and today we have had snow. What is going on? So here is a bit of snow, London style. Not so impressive, is it?

In fact, can you call this snow? It looked like snow from my window, but I'm not sure if it even qualifies. I turned around to get the camera and it stopped. Anyways, it is chill-some.

While I had the camera out, I thought I might do a bit of 'You've Been Framed' shots of my mini-apartment and see if they say anything about life here right now.

In complete contrast to the somewhat blizzardy weather, here is the blooming jasmine growing on our windowsill.

Next to my faux fireplace stands a proud Filipino hunter (who just happens to be stood next to a cute looking Tunisian camel)

Many a long evening spent reading..

My favourite new summer bag (some might say bought a little pre-maturely)




Two wise Tunisian men and an excitable fern watch over us throughout the days



The growing family portrait wall (Brooke this may be a hint that we need a new picture of the kiddoes! Hehe) The other two pictures are of Conrad's brother and fiance and of all Conrad's cousins in a row.



A mask or two from the plentiful stores we found somewhere in the labyrinth of cobble-stone streets of Venice



By far the largest and fattiest addition to my kitchen cupboard: Jif. But oh how the creamy goodness brings happiness to my soul. It's even more special because I have to get imported from the States.



And as a parting gift, I give you the greeting hung up next to the door.



Shalom.

Gerflunk.

Pumpernickle. Achinobob. Kadinkiwink. Bubblejenapoop. Karingadingblob.

My brain is smoosh grey jelly type substance. I have spent more time and energy the past couple of days thinking of reasons why I wasn't blogging that I could have spent most of it thinking of something interesting to blog about.

The most notable thing to write about is what I like to call "The Curse of the D-gene" (sorry Dad!) For some unknown reason, out of all the wonderful things to inherit from my father, I have inherited the rare Migraine gene. And it ain't a nice thing.

Yesterday started off quite nice. I was walking happily to work, content with the day and the beautiful sunshine, excited about the fact that I actually left my scarf at home and could breathe in the thick (albeit smoggy) sun-beam filled air. Whilst waiting for my bus I started having to squint my eyes to see the numbers on the on-coming buses. I tried reading the text on my phone to see if it was just the sun bouncing off of the metal and shining into my eyes. I couldn't see the text on my screen. I glanced over to the advertisement on the bus and tried to focus. It was blurry and my eyes just couldn't pic up any of the shapes.

I panicked when I realised I was starting to see what I like to call 'white-flashy-things'. Every time I tried to read anything or look at anyone, they became invisible. I had to sit down because I couldn't really see what I was doing. It was as if somebody had taken a close-up picture of my eyes with a super-bright flash on. Closing my eyes was not an option because if I closed them, I probably wouldn't be able to open them again.

I started rifling through my bag just *hoping* I had remembered to put my mini-pack of extra-strong pain killers in that morning. I had remembered, but I only had one left in there. I got annoyed at myself, but remembered that sometimes it didn't get as bad as normal, so hoped today would be one of those days. I got on the bus, thankful that there was a seat near the front.

Eventually when I got to work I was feeling totally fine. The white flashy things had gone; I had taken my extra-strength pain killer and was happily replying to emails on my desk. It was about 20 minutes into my shift that a dull ache started presenting itself at the lower back of my head which connected to my neck, and I started feeling a little queasy. I went to get a small glass of cold water thinking it was just because the pain killer hadn't kicked in yet. My eyes started to hurt. I tried to squeeze down on my eye sockets with my fingers to get rid of the pain. When people spoke to me it felt like there was thick sheet of perspex between my ears and their mouth. Every small task took the maximum amount of effort. I drank some more water and promised myself it would go away after a while.

It didn't.

I went to the ladies to sit down in a dark room for a while. I breathed deeply trying not to feel the nausea creeping down from the top of my head through to behind my eyes, around the temples and finally down to my stomach. I did not want to be sick at work. I think I was in there for about 20 minutes but time was only calculated by concentrating on how deep my breathing was and how I was going to make it back to my desk.

Luckily enough, when I did go back to my desk I looked as sick as I felt and was able to go home. The bright sun outside was not a happy sight. I kept looking for a place to walk where the sun wouldn't be in my eyes. I walked as fast as I could, trying not to pound too hard on the concrete, sending instant pain tremors through my head. As soon as I got home I went to bed, covering up my head with the darkest blanket I could find, hoping the children's happy playing noises outside would fade away quickly with sleep. I woke up 7 hours later feeling groggy and surprised that I had slept so deeply.

I have been to several doctors for these migraines and none of them could hazard a guess to why I get them. They are completely random - I once didn't have one for several months, and I once had two in a week. I've tried different pain killers for them, and none of them really work. They just dull the pain slightly. The only cure is to go to bed - and hope that you get to bed before you start with the puking.

The worst thing about getting migraines is my complete understanding that people do not believe me. There is always a look of disbelief when I tell someone - it's like a get-out-of-jail-free card for work. One moment I'm chatting away happily with colleagues, the next I can't lift my head off of the desk and can't move from my chair. How do you explain this to someone who doesn't know the complete and utter horror of a migraine?

Jeroomeepoop.

How To Make Rachel Laugh

Firstly, take a picture of the three of you while making a slightly weird face:

After re-positioning, take yet another picture making a (only slightly!) weird face:

After deciding that she should hold the camera, pose like you're a strange stalker trying to get in on the Ben and Rachel action.

..Making her miss off her entire face the next time round because she's laughing so hard.

Take it to the next level by making silly faces when she thinks you're finally taking it seriousy:

..Making her laugh so hard she looks like she's in in serious pain:

Mission Accomplished.