Okay Mr. Mousy. We gave you a chance.
Now the big guns are comin' out.
I'm finding it difficult to get this week started. I pressed snooze on the old alarm clock about 5 times today - leaving myself 8 minutes to get up, get ready and leave the house. My body does not want this day to go ahead.
Just in case you're checking in to see how The Reunion went, it didn't go. It turns out he had to go somewhere on the Saturday so we couldn't meet up. Obviously I was secretly relieved about this, but at the same time kind of disappointed. I had spent so much energy mentally preparing for it - all gone to waste. At least now I know I can accept visits from random people in my past. It would have been nice to mix a bit of old with the new.
If you don't know me and my sister in real life, please go read this post she has written. Sometimes I wish I could just plug into her and then she could write out my thoughts. Because she does it so well. It scares me that we feel and think the same way even though we haven't lived in the same country since I was 14 years old. 11 years ago.
I'm still applying for jobs. Every day. I'm so sick of it already (mostly sick of hiding it while I'm at work).
This Cloudy Brain Syndrome is not so good when you've got so much to do.
I recently received an email through MySpace from someone who went to school with me in
My first impulse was to completely freak out and puke up a little bit. Emailing old pals and seeing how their lives are now is all good, being able to appreciate commonality from a safe distance through a computer screen is fine, but actually engaging with them and socialising? Taking time out of my busy TV schedule to meet up?? What was with this guy? Problem is, he had asked me this once before and I had completely ignored him. So I thought to ignore twice would just be rude. I gave the guy my number and said that i might be free that weekend, but I was pretty busy so the chances weren't so high. (translation: keeping options open so I didn't freak out about what on earth we would ever have in common to talk about)
Skip forward to today where I have a missed call on my phone and a voicemail from a very deep-voiced sounding guy who vaguely resembles this guy I once knew back in my pre-teens. I start shaking. It's him. He's here. And he actually wants to meet up. Tomorrow.
(Oh why do I have to live in a city where people actually visit as tourists? Why can't I live in some random town like Wigan that no-one would ever dream of going to?)
I really didn't think he would call. I really did think I had a get-out-of-jail-free card.
But what is wrong with this picture? I've been waxing lyrical about my time in
So this is where I take a massive deep breath and give the guy a call. I just might need some dutch courage.
*small print: fyi, he doesn't think it's a date. And Conrad is coming too. Just in case you were wondering.
So the whole applying for jobs thing... I don't like it. I'm applying for three jobs right now that need to be in by the end of the week. It's the "Please explain how you meet the person specification criteria" that's a killer. Basically, Sell Yourself! Sell Yourself! Sell Yourself!
Firstly, I'm finding it difficult to big myself up when I think I am grossly underqualified according the the 'job specifications'. Secondly, I don't want to start applying because then I'm one step closer to getting rejected, thus making me panic, thus being subjected to a life as a bankrupt street-walker with a tick. But thirdly (and most realistically) I'm having troubles with the application forms because I have an A++++ in Procrastination. As soon as I have something that I have to do I will make up any old excuse to not do it. Case in point: I could be doing an online application right now on my lunchbreak, but here I am writing about how I'm writing about how I'm procrastinating on my application form. Not a good thing.
In other news, there is no progress on the mouse being caught yet. We bought ourselves a 'humane' mousetrap where the mouse is lured by a generous serving of peanut butter into a little tube - gets caught - and then we let it out in a more appopriate setting (i.e. Not Our House)
How could this possibly go wrong? Who could refuse peanut butter? So now we just wait. And hope that we won't have to go a step further and actually kill the poor thing. It's not it's fault that it was born a mouse now, is it?
So what is up with the extreme weather? First we have tornados, and then yesterday we had wind storms with gusts up to 99mph. All train stations were closed and airports were at a stand-still. There were roofs falling in, trees falling over.. Just chaos! Absolute chaos!
So much for mild English weather.
pictures courtesy of BBC.co.uk
I have a couple events in February that I'm looking forward to that are helping me through this long, cold grey month of January:
*My mom is coming to visit the first weekend in February (while dad is out galivanting in the States with my brother/sister-in-law, sister, aunt and cousins). We have a magical day-out planned to Madame Tussaud's followed by an evening full of excessive amounts of Sushi. Hmmm. Sushi. We frequent (insert R.P. accent here) an all-you-can-eat Sushi place that mom seems quite partial to.
*Conrad has a week off in February for half-term - which in itself is a rarity as actors very rarely get paid holiday. So, we've decided to mosy on over to
I just can't wait to dig in to all that luscious rich French food... Baguettes galore, soft warm brie, lamb, Paté Frois gras, boeuf, delectable duck, warm red wine, rich chocolate treats, pain au chocolat............ Okay my mouth is seriously drooling just thinking about it. (We will be doing some sightseeing, not just eating.. just so you know..)
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The moment we got in the door after Christmas break we were amazingly productive and efficient in taking down Christmas decorations. And then we lost all sense of reality and started chopping it up, thinking that we could fit it into bin bags and put it in the trash outside.
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My mind is swimming right now. Swimming with re-awakened feelings, thoughts, memories, passions. Being a TCK has been gently pressed to the back of my mind for the past few years - every new English experience has prodded it further back to the point that I don't even factor it into my life anymore.
And then there was discussion. Finding other people that echo my repressed thoughts, and being able to openly talk about it like it's normal - that what I feel is normal. It is lovely. (Ironic how it's the fact that we don't want to feel normal that unites us.)
I've also realised how many things I have problems with that are connected to being a TCK. For instance, I find it extremely difficult to find people that I even vaguely relate to. Everybody wants to put me in a category that they understand; "Oh it's because she's American" or "she's a girl, so she does that kind of thing". Hm. Me no likey categories. I like blurry lines and cross-overs. I like oxymorons. I like people that know enough to know they don't know anything. I like people who laugh at themselves, and find humour in absolutely everything. I like people who seek out knowledge, want to soak it up and swim around in it for a while.
Writing this blog has somehow turned into a re-awakening. And it excites me. It could not have come at a better time. I'm looking back on my life and wondering what my past has to do with my future. What have I learned? What does it mean? What do I know about me?
Since turning 25, weird things have started happening to me.
For instance: I've started worrying about the state of my skin (particularly two deepish lines on my forehead), I've been watching the BBC News in the morning before work, and I've started really wondering what old friends are up to.
This last one has proven a little difficult as I don't have any addresses/email addresses/phone numbers of any of them. I don't even know what country they live in these days. Unfortunately I have a habit of losing things (my phone, address book, my mind) and have no way of finding anyone. MySpace has been pretty helpful with this, but what about people that don't use their real name? That's just not fair!
I've managed to stalk down my four friends from University. All of us took most of the same classes, used to hang out together all the time, and in our third year we all lived happily together. I was curious to find out if any of us were doing what we said we would - were we still the idealistic sociologists we once were at university? It turns out none of us are doing anything vaguely to do with our degree.
Subject number 1 has gone back to university to train as a primary school teacher.
Subject number 2 is working with the police as an 'intelligence officer'
Subject number 3 is 6 months pregnant. Wow.
Subject number 4 has started her own company producing her very own homemade chutneys.
Say what now?
I am really very happy for all of them - they seem to know what they want and they're going out there and getting it. But writing people to tell them what I'm doing? It's not so fun. I wish I wasn't so down on lying so that I could just make some stuff up. I constantly feel like I'm making excuses for myself.
I can't help feeling slight inadequacies in myself here. I've had the most unproductive 2 years out of everybody. Am I just being lazy? Did I make the wrong choice somewhere? I need some kind of kick up the back side. I need to get another job, but as soon as I start looking I just get depressed. I just need to suck it up and do it. Good advice for myself, but not so easy to do!
So now I'm going to get off of this blog thing and start applying like there's no tomorrow.
My mind does funny ol' things when it's tired.
Lack of sleep makes me have frantic, constant, staccato thoughts that are just plain random and useless. Last night while I was taking a *relaxing* bath, all I could think about was conversations I'd had in the day, playing them back in my mind like some boring black and white rerun. At one point I think I even said out loud 'What are you doing! Why are you thinking about that?' It was like I was on some kind of brain speed pill. (which I definitely am not) The grasshopper in my brain works triple-time trying to confuse me and everyone around me with maximum effect.
The more tired I am, the more the repressed O.C.D. side of me tries to get out. I get home, and a sock lying by the couch drives me insane. The tiny layer of dust on the TV (developed from only last week when I deliriously dusted it last time I was tired) almost has me in convulsions. I want everything to be perfect! I will not relax until it's all in place! But most of the time I'm just too tired to do anything about it.
The point of me telling you this today is that my post will represent the resident grasshopper in my head - bits of random thoughts as they come to me.
*There is a baby mouse living in my house. And it's not a pet. I'm not actually a person that's afraid of mice, but we need to get rid of it before it starts breeding and we have a mini mouse colony. I also don't think it helps that just recently I have watched the movie 'Mouse Hunt'. I go to bed at night expecting it to be making itself a nice pesto pasta and find it napping on our fluffy white bread loaf. I don't think I need to worry though, because it doesn't seem to like me much. I haven't even seen it - it appears to Conrad at different times during the evening and shies away whenever I come into the room.
*Goji Berries
*We are heading down to
*Thanks to the brave souls who shared their opinion with me in the last comment section! I was listening to my mp3 player on the way to work and a song I have heard a million times kind of jumped out. I had no idea what it was about, I always sort of listened to the tune. This seems to echo my thoughts on the previous post. So I will leave you with these words;
(A. DiFranco) |
There has been a lot of media coverage in the past week over Saddam Hussein’s execution. When I first heard about it I was shocked and somewhat appalled. The first thought I had was “They still do hangings?” I thought that this ancient punishment had gone out with the Wild West. And secondly to find out that people were happily watching footage of this? Surely, as human beings, enjoying the death of somebody else is against every moral that exists – not only Christian, but as citizens of earth.
I suppose this brings across a larger question as a whole about the death penalty. Personally, I believe it is 1 million per cent wrong. Killing someone is wrong. Who are we to judge who can live or die? Who are we to say that they will never repent, change, and recover in any way?
I am stealing this idea a little bit from Conrad – but isn't sending someone to p
Isle of The Mighty wrote a post about this and in his comments has tried to answer my ponderings;
“…the definition of "murder" needs to be nailed down. If murder is merely anytime one
person kills another, regardless of circumstance, then I think we quickly
develop some difficulties--for example, if a man were to attack my wife and son
and I were to kill him the process of defending them, am I a murderer? Am I the
same as the man the stalks women and murders them brutally for pleasure?
If we acknowledge that there is more than one category for those that
take the life of another person, then I think we are in a position to begin
considering what is going on when the government uses its authority to sanction
the killing of a criminal. At that point the discussion becomes much more
interesting; I think the first thing we must ask is, what is the role of the
government?”
I like reading what he has to say. It's important to hear the 'other side' for my own sake, to understand why I am so against it. I think it's difficult to find the line between what we punish for and what we do not - But surely if we're uncertain about this, including death in the equation is just the wrong way to go.
I know that to many people I will just be coming across as 'liberal' (I'm also not much of one for labels) - but people causing death just sits wrong with me. Taking joy in someone's soul being put out makes my heart wrench. Yes, Suddam Hussein was a terrible person who murdered a lot of people. I just don't see how somebody else's crimes can justify another murder taking place.
I am writing these words here in a country and office where I feel somewhat mainstream with my thoughts. I know that some of my thoughts may offend - I hope not. As I hesitated to write these ramblings down, I started to wonder why I should worry about what I'm saying - surely writing a blog is about getting your thoughts down onto screen? I definitely know that my thoughts are not complete.
I would love to hear your opinions on the subject.
I have just spent the last hour in a time warp. Destination: Manila circa 1995.
And it was good.
Allow me to give you a mini visual tour.
Jeepneys! The easiest, cheapest, most culture-full kind of transport in Philippines.
Typhoon season was always pretty exciting. My family will laugh at how much I miss all the rain and wind because I spent most of the worst typhoons thinking that our roof was going to blow off and we were all going to die. Not at all dramatic of me!
Looking through familiar sights of Manila have made me realise how much my need to work for a charity has been shaped by the 2 short years in Manila. The hankerings to work in International Development and Charitiy stretched in my soul the more I looked through the impoverished scenes.
People are in desperate need.
Smog and pollutions really make for beautiful sunsets over Manila's skyline. Apparently this was taken nearby where my school was (Valley Golf).
It's so easy to forget about this world that is so far out of reach from where I am right now. Trawling through people's perspectives of one of my homelands has made me sure of one thing:
I still love it. I still need to have Manila be part of me. It may not be the idyllic beaches and bamboo huts that people associate with The Philippines (don't get me wrong, I love that aspect too) but I need the hectic, chaotic sights of Manila. The dis-organised, full of hope and life city that is so much a part of my heart.
Memories courtesy of Jim Rohrer, Paolopicones, Parc Cruz,Canlasa, Natrine
"Like many TCKs, I am not really sure where home is... Over the years, I’ve come to realize that I feel most at “home” when I’m with other TCKs and expats. Home, therefore, is not so much a place, but the sense of belonging I feel when I’m around people who understand me." (Dreaming of Hanoi)
