Me Again

Thanks to the influence of my writing alumni, I have actually done a writing exercise.

This evening I sat down, applied the seat of my pants to the seat of my office chair and filled a blank Microsoft Word document with 1,203 words. They aren't the most gripping, exciting or even coherent words I've ever written. But they are mine. And they are the first words I've written just for me in the last 2 years.

New Year's Day

Please read this quietly...I had a fabulous time last night...

Saw the New Year in with the Norwich Chant lot, we played cut-throat Articulate, drank several different varieties of alcohol (which could possibly be the reason for my current state of fragility), ate yummy snacks, sang along with Hootenanny and danced while Gee dejayed everything from Tamla Motown to 80s kitsch.

I crawled into bed at about 3 am, I tried to limit my drunken declarations of undying love and slept pretty well.

My hopes for 2009 are fairly straightforward.

~ After being in my flat for nearly 10 years, it's time for somewhere with more space for Boy to stretch out and for me to have a study, so I'm house hunting.
~ As wonderful as the MR2 is, I would like something that's mine which is a newer and requires less regular pampering. Unfortunately, that car has spoilt me and every time I look at something sensible...I can't go there.
~For my sanity, I need to do more creative stuff: I've got to get back to my writing and my art. Included in that is going to the theatre, going to arty cinema, indulging in galleries and museums.

Time to have a bit of fun methinks.

Life in the Fast Lane

I don't know how I do it, I really don't. After another day, trying to single-handedly rescue the failing British economy, I've come home and spent the evening painting my nails. I bet you wish you had my life, don't you?

I spent a couple of days oop North with the Viking, which was lovely. He's doing well and is really coming in to his own at work now; it's great seeing the way his confidence has grown. I think the Service is lucky to have him. Despite our change in circumstances, it was good to see him and spend some time away from my flat and city.

On the drive back home I had the time to start thinking about my New Year's Resolutions. Normally, I avoid making them because I know I'll just carry on as normal. This coming year, it's time to do something different. I'm setting myself some goals and I intend, with your help (as in nagging and encouragement) I'll achieve them.

I know round is a shape, and a very nice one at that, but I'd really like to lose a stone. I would like to become a lot fitter as well. To that end, I have purchased myself a tankini (keeps the wobbly bits in check) and I intend to go swimming a couple times a week. I'm also going to pick up the exercise dvds again. As you know, I don't do gyms, I find them way too scary, and I have a good exercise dvd collection, so I have no reason not to start working out regularly.

Boots always say 'change one thing', rather than try to make wholesale changes. So my one thing this coming month will be to move more. Salsa, swimming and regular workouts. Once those are happening, then I'll look at the diet thing.

I've put it out there...I can't wuss out of it now.

What are your New Year's Resolutions? Tell me and I can be your cheerleader, as you become mine. Together we can do it!*

*perhaps I've been watching too much Dr Phil?

Pink Fluffy Dressing Gown

Today is a lazy day. I intended to loads, but I'm still sat in my dressing gown: life is good. I'm obviously not at work, I don't think they'd appreciate the sight of me in my strippy socks. I was very naughty this morning. I went back to bed and didn't crawl out of it until 10.30ish. The shock. It's funny, but as nice as it was to stay longer in my beddies, I don't feel any the better for it. My brain still feels mushy. Having said that, I suspect that comes from running around like a blue-arsed fly for most of the time.

Work has been 'interesting', to say the least. Last month we had a change of management in the department and that's really set the cat amongst the pigeons. You will remember I'm not a huge fan of change. I like things to stay 'nice' preferably. I don't like shake ups, wake ups or break ups. I get stroppy without my anchors, my security blankets. October was a month of change. Hence me being a bit quiet as I sulked, moped and stared into the depths of my navel.

Alix is now safely ensconsed in London. She and Shizzle (her husband) found a fabulous flat exactly where they wanted to be, within their budget - a feat considering London housing. I really miss her. It's a good thing that they've gone. But I wish she was still round the corner. I miss her smile, her brilliant hugs and her sense of humour. We didn't see that much of each other, both being busy at work and college, but I loved that we'd bump into each other and steal half and hour for coffee and naughty cake.

I started working part-time. I'm now on 3 days a week, which has come as a bit of a shock to the system. No more swanning about for me. In a couple of weeks, when the run up to Christmas really kicks off, I'll be doing 4 days and when December hits, I'll be doing 5 days. This working for a living lark is bloody knackering. I don't have time to think, much less do laundry, cook etc. I really need a live-in house keeper, or a wife. Actually, a wife would be great. At least then Boy could come home to someone, a decent meal and reasonable company. But I do the best I can with what I've got and he seems fairly chipper and I do have the world's best babysitter in the form of the XBox.

I've also been thinking about my life ahead and where it will lead. I've come to the conclusion that my days of happy homemaking (yeah right) are slipping further and further off into the distance. Boy will be leaving home in 4 years time as he embarks on his chosen path and that's got to be a good thing, but it does make me sad. I know I've talked about this before, endlessly, but when your life has revolved around another human being for whom you are responsible - it's a bit scary. The thought of always coming home just to the cat on a dark winter night, fills me with dread. I did not enjoy half-term without him, even though I was phenomenally busy with work and college.

But there freedom with that thought. I could do anything I wanted (money permitting). I could move to London, it wouldn't matter if I had to live in a shoe box. I could move back to Trinidad. I could move oop North. The world would become my oyster as long as I could embrace the irritation to create a pearl. I know that's four years' off, but I like to think about my bridges, and a lot might happen between now and then. Life has never quite managed follow through as expected with plans.

It was the fire festival of Samhain on Wednesday, which is a pretty big deal in the pagan calendar. It's the start of our new year. A time of opening your arms to let go the stuff that holds you back, keeps and lets you down. With open arms you can embrace the opportunities and challenges that life sends to you. It's also the last time the Norwich Chant Collective will meet in that form. We've been going now for 9 years and people have moved on, changed, moved away. Time to let it go, see what else comes to take it's place. No longer will I be trouping out Wednesday nights to give voice to chants. *sniff*

So that's why I've been a bit absent. Did you miss me?

Waiting

I feel as if I'm waiting to start my life. I've got another a month before College starts. I've got my dissertation subject sorted, I know what I'm going to be doing for my degree. I've got my books sat on the bookcase, waiting for me to open them. I've got all these ideas of things to do, research, experiments, poems.

I did the research for the job interview tomorrow. I'm thinking about getting my outfit together, gathering the bits of paper. I'm re-reading the interview guidelines and job description. Now I just have to wait for tomorrow.

My boy is waiting to start high school. We've got his uniform together, he's planned his route to school. He's walking in with a big bunch of his mates. I did offer to take him, but he very politely declined. Which is exactly as it should be. He's waiting to be 13, waiting to become the amazing young man I believe he will become.

Me, I've done my soul searching. Stared for hours into my navel, analysing how I've come to be in this place in time. All the mistakes I've made, with completely the wrong men. Sometimes the right men at the wrong time. Some mistakes I'd make again without a second thought, others I'd pay my weight in gold to erase all evidence in Time.

What am I waiting for? I'm waiting to be welcomed. For a man to look at me and see me for who I am, to accept me. To open his arms just for me. If it means I need to be on my own for awhile, then that's fine. I know what I'm doing. I'm going to get a shit-hot degree, I'm going to get a good job, I'm going to hang out with my really great and sexy friends.