Another two fucking months?!

I clearly don't understand how time works. That's the only excuse I can come up with.

Thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes! Spain was awesome, and I would recommend Barcelona as a birthday destination to anyone. The weather was spectacular, the food defies description, and the architecture would break your heart. I'm planning a return trip very soon.

I also had a pre- and post-birthday presents in the forms of Paul's visit at the start of September and Rob and Irena's visit at the end. My friends are besotted with my Australian guests, and I strongly encourage you all to keep coming and besotting them.

Apart from all of the excitement, things here are going... well, they're going. I'm still really struggling to find my niche. It's bloody hard trying to settle into a new life at this age and by myself. I actually think it would have been easier if I'd gone somewhere entirely new, because it's really easy to be complacent here when I know the city so well. It wouldn't have been at all feasible, of course - I needed the material support that people in Boston could offer me - but it's deceptively hard because I feel like it should have been easier to settle back into somewhere I know, when in fact I've lived my entire adult life elsewhere and I don't have the slightest idea how anything works, but I also don't have any obvious markers of foreign-ness so people expect me to get it. It's... I don't know. It's not easy.

On the other hand, though, I'm really trying not to dwell too much on this stuff. It's hard, as I have a dwelling-oriented brain and not nearly enough to occupy/distract it at the moment, but I'm trying to do some power-of-positive-thinking things. Like, I've decided to allow myself to spend up to $15/week on nice, (usually) tropical flowers for the house. They make me happy, and happy is worth $15. And I'm trying to find something beautiful in every situation - like, actively looking for it. Right now I'm at my desk at work, so there's not much immediately in front of me (except a bottle of mannequin lubricant, which is... I mean, I have the *most* ridiculous job), but I'm able to find something in most places, and that seems to help. I at least feel like I'm trying, so that's good.

Things with The Lawyer are officially off again. It's... guys, it's rough, I'm not going to lie. Paul met her, and Rob and Irena met both her and The Chef; the verdict is that she's great (true), and The Chef is great (true), and... and I need to meet someone who is neither of them, because both situations are fundamentally busted (entirely, completely, 100% true).

I think a big part of this is that I need to meet new people full stop - I need to broaden my friend base - but it is bloody hard to do that at this age and in this situation. I've met a couple of people I like at work, but no one I want to pursue as an Outside Friend; and I love my belly dancing crew but most of them live outside of Boston (well outside) and aren't really viable options. If I were the sort of person who liked playing sports or going to bars to socialise with people I don't know? I'd be golden. However, I am neither of those people and I like neither of those things - in fact, both send waves of panic through me. So... seriously, what else? Please, suggestions. I need to find a way in.


XOXO

I manage a good one from time to time.

While going back through some old e-mails from this time last year, I found this:

Inner Sydney lesbians are mostly cute but frequently horrible people; suburban Sydney lesbians are mostly hideous and frequently redneck-y; everyone in Melbourne dresses like extras from a French movie but they really commit so it works; the rest of the country is a mystery to us all.

Still as true today as it was then.


XOXO

Don't call it a comeback.

Is it fucking possible that I haven't posted here since April?

I'm serious. I mean, obviously it's possible. In fact, it's a fact. But I don't understand how it happened. Where the hell did FOUR MONTHS go?

I guess there's no point in worrying about it. I mean, there were reasons: Dad had some health issues that got very in the way, and while those are (thank god) now much, much improved, there was an extended period of pure hectic mess. It resolved just in time for work to go batshit crazy, and that only wrapped up about a week ago. In the meantime, I have also had protracted negotiations with The Chef (ended stuff with me to go back to her ex, then a couple of months later ended it with the ex and tried to come back to me... we're now awesome friends, but it was touch-and-go for a while) and The Lawyer (I have no fucking idea, except that she broke up with her gf about a month ago and also we're going to Spain together in a few weeks), because why the hell not, right? There has also been some belly dancing, and Boston eventually decided to let us have some decent fucking weather that approximated an actual summer, after the longest, coldest, snowiest winter and longest, coldest, wettest spring in living memory. Oh, and my Flattie Karen's dog is possibly the worst. Like, really the worst. Of anything, ever. So, you know, there's been a thing or two.

But the worst of it seems to be behind me now [screams and flails wildly, trying to find wood to knock on]. I just spent a couple of lovely days on Cape Cod (Boston:Melbourne :: Cape Cod:Mornington Peninsula), and feel relaxed for the first time in... oh, christ knows. I've got a couple of quieter weeks at work before things get hectic again, so that's a nice opportunity to prepare and get on top of it all. And I have some awesome things to look forward to in the next six weeks: Paul (a.k.a. 'Boyfriend Paul') is coming for a visit next week, which looks like it will include my first-ever Sox-Yankees game; I'll be in Spain 14-21 September, which eagle-eyed readers will note includes my birthday (17 September, this year on a Saturday, this year in Barcelona, this year a fucking good one come hell or high water); and Rob and Irena are visiting right after I get back!

I'm excited, y'all. And I've missed you.


XOXO

Two things that make me laugh, for very different reasons.

Here's a thing for those of you who want to know a little more about Jamaica Plain* (it's better than any other plain!).

And here's a thing for those of you who want to know a little more about bending in weird directions.

* Jamaica Plain is my spiritual home in Boston, and where I'd definitely live if it weren't next door to the neighbourhood I grew up in. I will almost certainly end up there if I stay in Boston. Somerville is where The Lawyer lives. She does play lots of sports and eat breakfast food. I, however, am not a vegan.

XOXO

Ugh.

You guys.

I just gchatted with The Chef. I still have no idea what's going on - I don't think she's come to any final decision, but I'm not entirely sure - but I have to ask a very serious question:

Is there anything more infuriating than someone you desperately want to be angry at being nothing but respectful and reasonable at you?

I mean this. I always thought I wanted someone who thought about my feelings and listened to me and went out of her way to be careful of me. Turns out what I really want is the exact opposite, because now I'm getting the thoughtful, caring bullshit and it's making me want to kick puppies.

I can't handle it at all. I know how to deal with screaming fights and wounded feelings and storming-offs. I know what to do when someone shuts me out completely or punishes me with silence or acts in a way that is entirely inappropriate to the situation and to our relationship. The script for any scene that ends with me sobbing so hard I get sick? I know it by heart. But this whole thing she's pulling on me here is breaking my mind. How dare she be honest? How dare she be gentle, and think before she speaks, and weigh her words carefully? And worst of all, how dare she listen to what I say I want, and then give it to me?!

Because then I have nothing to be angry or sad about, except the fact that she ended up ditching me and that was not how the story was supposed to go. And I feel hurt, and disappointed, and foolish, and I have nowhere to turn any of that except on myself.

XOXO

I'm really starting to believe that Canada's a better person than I am.

Excellent work, Calgary. Truly excellent.

XOXO

A series of unexpected events.

You guys, it isn’t even Tuesday and I am already done with this week.

1. I can’t stop eating. I don’t know what the hell’s going on with my appetite, but every moment I’m not shoveling food in my face feels like a moment lost. If I don’t slow my roll I am going to undo every bit of good work I’ve done since December.
   
   I’m also having a hard time getting back into the gym. I’m trying to tell myself that I really just need to get through the first two weeks of eating well and exercising and then it’ll be routine, but it’s like I’m back to square one where every minute is a struggle. And I’m craving the weirdest shit – like, Gatorade and Sour Patch Kids and Entenmann’s baked goods – that is miles outside of what usually interests me, and what’s worse is that I want them all by the bucketful (the Entenmann’s stuff in particular… dear god, the things I’d do to a box of their choc-chip cookies does not bear description).
   
   
   
2. We got snow. Again. I really can’t with this. I beg of you, Boston, no màs.
   
   
   
3. In the last 24 hours, I have been dumped by not one, but two people I wasn’t formally dating. Well, I’m exaggerating slightly, but only slightly: as of now things are off with both The Chef and The Lawyer. The Chef had a big snotty cry all over me yesterday because her ex wants her back and she doesn’t know what to do. They were together for 5+ years and split more than a year ago; I’ve never got a clear picture of the details but I do know that the break-up was seriously bad, and I have the distinct impression that the ex dicked her over something fierce. I don’t know how long they’ve been back in touch, but I think at least the please-come-back is very recent, because The Chef is not very good at keeping things under wraps and would not have been able to go on very long without telling me.
   
   I reacted much as you might expect: I gave my opinion (essentially ‘don’t be a moron, moron’), let her sob, and then told her to leave my house and only call me when she’s sorted her shit out but don’t expect me to be waiting around in the meantime – and by the way, next time she wants to drop something like this, she shouldn’t let me pay for brunch immediately beforehand. Fucker.
   
   I don’t know. If she turns the ex down and wants to give it another go with me, I’m not sure what I’ll say: to my list of major concerns we can now add ‘still not really over her last relationship, apparently’, and that’s not small potatoes. But to her credit she was honest to an extent she didn’t necessarily have to be, given the nebulousness of our relationship, and I also really feel for the girl. She’s hurting bad and really doesn’t know what to do – I suspect she’s desperate to trust the ex again and give it another shot but also really doesn’t trust her at all, so doesn’t know what to make of it. (I also suspect that the ex has managed to run some guilt-inducing ‘but don’t you believe people can change?’ line on her, which is gross, and no, for the record, I don’t.)
   
   And in case any of you is wondering, yes, this was as sudden as it seems, and no, no one saw it coming.
   
   As to The Lawyer, she has merely had an attack of the guilts, exacerbated by having received some fairly head-fucking news from her own ex this morning. It’s fair enough and probably for the best but coming on the heels of yesterday has me feeling even more kicked around. That will pass and we’ll recalibrate, and I knew it would only be a short-lived thing anyway, but I just didn’t want to give it up at this particular moment. On the other hand, the risk of using her as a prop to make myself feel better and ending up hurt in the process is huge, I recognise that, so it really is the best thing. She’s the emotional equivalent of a box of Entenmann’s choc-chip cookies: utterly delicious and addictive, but once the sugar high wears off there’s nothing but regret and bloating to show for it. Whereas The Chef was more like a fresh, healthy tomato salad that turned out to be laced with salmonella. Fuck, even the sane ones I pick are a mess.
   

Anyway. I’m sure this will all pass quickly enough. In the meantime, I have a week to get through. Back to it, I guess.

XOXO