Cracked

It's been a long time since I posted anything - and I haven't any reason for my silence.

Tomorrow is my last first day of school, and it's a terror and a relief. I don't know what to feel except sadness. I have my share of regrets, but they pass like the afternoon thunderstorms. I'm very tired, although I slept for the past twenty-four hours. I'm not...waiting, per se, but I am restless. Lonely.

I have made my choices this summer. I have brought about some endings and accepted those I cannot change. I have sought solace where I can find it, and tried to be the best person I can be. It doesn't ever feel like enough, but there is no going back. I can say that, and mean it. There is no reason to go backwards and every reason to go forward.

This year will be my year. It is my last year, in a way, of childhood and protection. I'm so grateful for the way we structure life here in America - it means I can adjust, little by little, to adulthood. But, it also means that the end must come, and it has. Senior year of high school was the best and worst of my life up until then. I've been through a lot since that year, overcome obstacles and experienced miracles. 

I'm still lonely. But I know it isn't permanent. I'm still frightened, but I'm sick of being frightened. I'm strong. I'll meet these endings with my head held high and my chin raised. I refuse to be broken. Not even a little. Cracked, maybe. Broken, never.

Salut
WG

In Which I Become a Mother

She is a darling little girl named Skye, who drives me mad by waking me up at quarter to four in the morning because she won't sleep. (Won't, not can't.)

In the past few weeks I have: suffered relationship drama, resolved said drama, flown across the world, become a mother, moved house and turned twenty-one. That's a lot to happen to a girl in three weeks.

I have resolved my fall class schedule and am currently on the prowl for jobs. It's an annoying process, trying to convince a company to hire me. I don't look forward to the post-uni years in which this matters even more.

My current struggle (aside from employment) is getting Miss Skye to eat. She is as picky as her mama was, sigh, and not cooperative in the least.

I also discovered, on a completely random side-note, that I enjoy bowling.

Can't follow my thoughts? I don't judge you; most days, neither can I.

WG

Life Lessons

A random collection of things I've learned over time.


#22: Not brushing your hair leads to tears.

#104: I don't have any blood.

#105: An insignificant shaving cut turns the bathroom into a scene from Saw IV.

#87: The bed doesn't make itself. Ever.

#31: Do not watch comedy shows in the library during exam time.

#182: Gingers run in packs.

#731: The battery never dies unless you're expecting a call.

#25: They can't read your mind. (Really.)

#19: The money you make yourself is harder to spend.

#1: This was a good one, but I forgot it while watching TV.

WG

The Boyfriend Post

I'm sitting here sulking because it started to rain before I could make it to the library, so naturally I'm online looking at pictures of cats. And then it hits me: everything I see, the ones that make me laugh the most, remind me of my boyfriend.

So here's a collection of my favourite pics that make me think of the Beloved Boy, who is busily working on his end-of-semester assignments so he can get top marks and rule the world.

I feel safest when I'm with him. I leave my phone behind, I don't check my Facebook page; I know that when I'm with him the rest of the world isn't out to get me. 

And he's my bear. For cuddles and snuggles and kisses and laughs. 

Yup. 

WolfGrrl

A Few Little Things

I'm keeping my thoughts to myself for a bit while I process. I have a lot to think about these days. So...I naturally head to the Internet to make this thinking process easier, haha. Have some gems from my thinking and wandering.

It's the little, weird things in life that make me smile. Besides, have you looked at that koala? I mean, really, I knew Australia was full of deadly things, but never the cute, cuddly koala! 

Also, if the Bella-cat is anything to go by, Man's Weird Reclusive Roommate happens to also be loud, insane and perpetually hungry. 

Ta

WolfGrrl

David, Boris and TP

Well, here I am again. In bed, alone, with cold feet. Actually, I'm not alone: I have David Attenborough's biography Life on Air, a stuffed Kiwi bird named Boris and a roll of toilet paper in bed with me.

What do these three items have in common? Well, that's an interesting story...

Years and years ago, my mother read Attenborough's book and loved it. She recently (as in a few months ago) recommended it to me as a good read and I have been trying to find it in either a book shop or at one of the libraries. On my last trip into town I found it, and have been dutifully working my way through it. I've learned a lot from Attenborough's programmes on the BBC; ours is definitely a learning-oriented household. I may have never seen a Spongebob marathon, but I can quote Walking with Dinosaurs word-for-word. (And Lord of the Rings, but shhhh.)

Boris the Kiwi bird was a gift from my boyfriend for my last birthday. His real name (the toy, not my boyfriend) is Boris the Perv, because...well...he's pervy. We had a talk about this, and he has since reconciled himself to life at the bottom of the bed/on the floor. I usually manage to rescue him, but not always. I am not thrilled when I wake up to a bird beak wedged between my boobs. Or legs. Awkward...

The toilet paper is in my bed because I have a cold. Not because I'm a bed-wetter, or have a portaloo in my bureau or whatever. I ran out of tissues earlier today and was too tired and lazy to walk to the store to replace them. (Although I did walk out of my required film screening, and I did walk to the corner dairy for sustenance). I hate having colds. I never look as sick as I feel, so I end up schlupping around like a zombie who looks like a normal, if slightly unfocused, human being. Arghh. I also sound like Yoda because the goop in my head (yes, that IS a technical term, thanks) makes me mix up my words. Thank God I don't have any presentations; it's always fun to explain to the class - with a straight face - why you sound like the offspring of Yoda and Chewbacca.

I promised the Beloved Boyfriend that I would go to bed early. And I meant to, honest. But, well, I had a little freak-out regarding my History paper (already turned in) and my half-finished Anthro and Film papers, due next week. Sigh.

Goodnight. Or rather, goobnit.
WolfGrrl

Updates from My Life

I had a great epiphany two days ago at one in the morning. Obviously, said epiphany never materialized in the blogosphere. Whatever; I have other things on my mind these days. It is good to check in with my virtual peeps, however, so prepare for an update on my life.

At the end of April I went to Wellington, the cutest little capital in the world, to visit the Beloved Boyfriend for his twenty-first birthday. Five blissful days restored me to sanity, filled me with laughter and provided me with enough lovey-dovey time to make it through the end of the semester. I still love him. Amazing.

Upon my return I was swept into the Great Flat Drama, which managed to resolve itself without any help from the participants. Funny how these things go away if left alone.

In other news, my little corner of the world has received the MOST rain in the entire country of New Zealand during the past two days. I think it rained - no, poured - for forty-eight hours straight. Needless to say, the house on the end of the street is perilously close to falling into the river and washing through the middle of campus before heading out to sea.

I have two big research papers outlined and ready to start; both are due at the end of May, leaving me with three weeks to study for three exams. At my home university, students are given two days to recover from classes before finals begin. The fact that I have close to a month is bizarre. What am I going to do with all that extra time? I mean, come on, it's not like I study or anything.

Not much else is happening, kiddies. I return home in the early part of July to my usual life of girl friends, work, driving and being pampered by my family. Between now and then, I might go skiing with the Beloved Boyfriend. We might go kayaking instead. We will definitely go driving, parking, and see some movies at the cinema. I have to spend as much time with him as possible in preparation for a long, long drought. But, life is about overcoming obstacles.

And in all honesty, it'll be good to go home.

Cheers!
WolfGrrl

Kindness

A Year and a Day

Today is our one year anniversary. One year together, sharing laughs, squabbles and tears. One year to become stronger, and weaker, and happier. I love you, Maxamillion. I still wonder how our paths ever crossed, while remaining fantastically grateful that they did.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.
Happy One-Year-ish Day.

G

Strange Letters

You don't know me and I don't know you. I don't know the particulars of the situation or what personal demons have taken hold of you. This lack of knowledge doesn't blunt my anger.

You don't deserve what you've been given. You were the one who brought light to her eyes; I was the one who encouraged her to bask in it. We're both guilty, but I at least acted out of love. Can you say the same?

You don't deserve her. She is kind; she is honest; she is more genuine than anyone you'll meet in this life or the next. Behind the walls she's built, there is vulnerability. You took advantage of that, and I'm disinclined to forgive you.

Second chances are rare. If you want one with me (and why would you, except that knowing you're the object of someone's passionate disgust must rankle), choose your next step carefully. I will not suffer by ensuring that you know exactly what you are. It's a testament to her gentle nature that she'll defend you to me - I do the same for the one who puts light in my eyes. Lovers forgive insults easily; friends are less kind.

Perhaps the particulars would compound my rage; perhaps they would temper it with sadness, or understanding, or regret. But know this, and know it well: I am patient. I am strong. And I defend what matters to me. She matters to me. You, I couldn't care less about.

Hurt her again, and I will end you. If you doubt me, ask what kept ten years worth of bullies at bay. Ask what brought me through suffering and hell. Ask if I can be made to do something against my will. Doubt me then. I dare you.

You don't deserve what you've been given. I understand well enough that shields can become prisons; in the end, it's her decision how to proceed.

She wouldn't have opened to you without a reason. I listened to her grapple with accepting you. I don't know if it's stupidity or arrogance or fear that had you turning her away; I don't really care. You did. In your stupidity or arrogance or fear you struck a blow that will leave a scar.

Fortunately for you, her soul is bright enough to absorb it.
WG

Holiday Paradox

It is a truth universally acknowledged that I am not very productive in spring or autumn. Perhaps it comes from being perpetually on an academic schedule; perhaps it is simply that I enjoy spring and autumn weather more than the rest of the year. Whatever the reason, I am disinclined to acquiesce to the requests of professors, professionals and other deadline-makers.

Being a student abroad has its perks, one of which is that I am on a semi-permanent holiday. It is highly convenient to be able to wander up to the shops and browse for an hour or two in the middle of the day, for no reason other than I want to wander. I go to bookshops and smell the books. I go to fancy boutiques and try on ball gowns. I go to expensive shoe stores and pretend to be fabulously wealthy as I parade around in Italian leather heels. Then I go back to Uni and write a bibliography while eating lollies.

It's a good life. Even if I'm not very productive.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that sunny autumn days are a blessing. Especially in Dunedin, where the weather in winter takes on a distinctly Scottish tone.

Today is a sunny autumn day, and I am not being productive. This weekend's forecast seems even less so, but, as I am about to go on a holiday during my holiday, I should probably get some work done.

Have a few New Zealand pictures, while I'm at it. It's been a while.

Bisous
WolfGrrl

Today I Learned

Today I learned that the daughter of a family friend has anorexia. Readers with a passing acquaintance of myself will know that I, too, have faced this demon. My immediate response to the news was a crack in my heart - even the anonymous girls I see around campus tug at me when I cross their paths. To have this happen to someone I know - to a girl I watched grow up - is particularly wrenching.

There's so much I want to say, both to her and her family. There's so little I know about their situation. I only know about myself, and my situation.

I want to say that anorexics are intelligent people frightened of themselves and the world.
I want to say that anorexia is a way of breaking the familial bond, of asserting independence.
I want to say that screaming, and crying, and yelling and endlessly driving in the car will help...over time.

Anorexia is not a cancer; it doesn't grow in the flesh. Anorexia is the result of a fearful mind mastering imperfect matter. Anorexics seek perfection in the world and take out their disappointment on themselves. Anorexia is a hatred of self and others - but mostly self. It is a demand for space, acknowledgement, and agency.

I write these words because they seem honest. They might not be. I'll acknowledge that; my own experience has begun to fade, with time and love and therapy easing the scars back into some semblance of smooth skin. But, I cannot forget that I lived this nightmare and worse, that I forced others to live it with me.

We do not intend to hurt and deny the ones that love us. We simply cannot see anything beyond our own self-loathing. I dislike metaphors that paint cancer or horrific accidents as an opportunity for personal growth (an excess of positivity isn't in my nature) but, in some cases - certainly my own - I think the metaphor is justified. I changed as a result of my anorexia. I learned what kind of person I am under the social mask. It was unpleasant, often brutal, but change isn't pleasant. Change isn't easy. For some of us, for those of us intelligent enough to see the vast scope of possibility, the only way we can handle change is by turning it into a monster we can fight.

Anorexia is both monster and fight: it is the product of a terrified mind trying to establish boundaries. Anorexia is about control; it is about development; it is about personal understanding.

Until I am the one loving someone seemingly bent on destroying herself, I cannot tell you the other side of this story. What I can do is offer advice, little things that will help make the anorexic seem rational and human and perhaps lessen - or soften - the overall experience.

Avoid adjectives. Ethereal, fey, elegant, pretty, slender - avoid confirming adjectives as you'd avoid offensive ones. They stick in the mind and fester, providing the disease with impetus.

Listen to the screams. Highly intelligent, highly controlled individuals do not let themselves go easily. When they do, it's because the pressure has become unbearable. They will be relieved; they will feel exhausted afterwards. A quiet, consistent presence will be most beneficial, despite the blank, emotionless, or physically ill response. Listen without judgment. This is hard. Being judged is harder.

Acknowledge defeat, but don't give in to it. Every morning is a victory and a new beginning. Every meal is a battle between two sets of scales. The scale of desire will always weigh more. The only way to recover is to want to recover.

The only way to recover is to want to recover. Think of what a confession by torture is worth. Now think of what being forced into recovery is worth to the anorexic. She must do the work, suffer the guilt and the pain and the fury. She must choose to change.

Learn to let go. This one is probably the hardest for both parties. Personal understanding comes from destruction as much as growth; mistakes must be made, consequences must be felt. Anorexia is learning how painful and fruitless the pursuit of perfection truly is. I had to learn that I am more than my body. My mother had to learn that she can't fight all my battles.

Get help early, and choose that help well. Trust the person you choose to know their job, to know the signs, and to make the hard decisions. They are there to help. They will be your sanctuary and your drill sergeant, but in the end they will help you find the straight road again.

I think, in some ways, we do this to ourselves in order to shed a stubborn skin. People who are resistant to change require an enormous incentive to accept it - this incentive changes constantly, a process that slowly teaches the individual to let go of absolutes and embrace reality. In the beginning, my incentive was to lose weight, to get in shape. Then the incentive was to prove to my mother that I ate a certain number of calories. Then it became the maintenance of a routine. Eventually, I lost control of my routine as my body circumvented the demands of my mind. No one chooses to starve; it's something our bodies do in response to environmental alterations. One can choose to restrict food intake or increase activity, but starvation is a natural response.

I spent a lot of time avoiding thinking about anorexia. I spent a lot of time trying to go backwards, to be the person who counted every goldfish and saw every lump of flesh, real or imagined. I made the mistake of thinking this was happiness. At the time, it might have been, but it pales in comparison to what I have learned and experienced since.

Humans are durable because they are stubborn. We do not want to die. No one wants to die. We do not want to acknowledge change, so we subsume that fear in others. You can't panic about the future if your sole focus is the number of calories in that steak, or the number of hours you ran, or the number of pounds the scale registered.

I am making this up as I go. It's midnight, and I am balancing three separate worlds in my head and on the tips of my fingers. One is the world I remember. Two is the world of what I've learned. Three is the world as it is right now, right here in my bed in a house in the most beautiful country on earth.

I guess my last words are just to...remember what anorexia is and is not. It's not a punishment; it is a way of handling change. It's not an invitation to Death; it is a way of altering perspectives.

Hold onto hope. If hope is impossible...well, I hope that you're stubborn enough to always hope.
Wanting to recover is the hardest part. The rest is a dangerous, beautiful routine.

WolfGrrl

Optimism

It's easier to be optimistic about others than about oneself.

WG

Winter is Coming

Mmm chippies. Otherwise known as fries. They are quite delicious, and it's been a while since I've had any. I think, as I go out to do some shopping in preparation for a birthday celebration, that I'll grab some chips and have an early dinner. Nothing like fish to keep you warm and happy. (And so smart!)

I don't feel smarter, but that's not important. My friends at home as posting poolside pictures while I struggle through the rain and cold weather. At least the sun is out now, though the temperature continues to drop by the hour. Winter has come, evidently.

A shout out here to my darling daddy, whose birthday was earlier this week, and to my boyfriend, whose birthday is later this month. How nice to have both loves in one month (at least I have a prayer of remembering them, haha).

I'm looking forward to the next few weeks, history paper aside. It'll be wonderful to see the boyfriend in Wellington, and I have a month and a half of school left! Yay! How did that happen?

It'll be his turn soon. It makes me very happy to hear my friends at home beg me to bring him with me when I return. I love that they accept him, and want to get to know him better. You're loved, sweetheart, by lots of people the world over.

Tootles!
WolfGrrl

Exes and O's

It's a rather gray day to be thinking about exes and o's.

I suppose I shouldn't get annoyed when comments from an ex-friend or my ex-boyfriend filter through on Facebook, but it does annoy me. Still, these people are X-ed out of my life for a reason. I don't like remembering them, because it forces me to remember thoughts, moods and actions I want to forget. I've always been a forgetter rather than a keeper - it's easier for me to forget than it is to forgive.

As for the o's... I'm missing chocolate cheerios a lot. And we had a flat-bonding experience this morning that involved visiting a sex shop, something most eighteen year olds in the States do on or around their birthday. I think you can all ponder what I meant with my little pun.

WolfGrrl

Big and Small

Since I feel that my day was productive, let's list the accomplishments and see if it's true.

1. I am now employed at the SPCA.
2. I finished 75% of the homework for next week's classes.
3. I wrote my intro, thesis, and a vague outline for my History essay.
4. I talked to my daddy for his birthday.
5. I talked to my boyfriend.
6. I ate a FULL-SIZED bowl of pasta with sauce, veges and noms.
7. I cycled 38 kms at the gym.
8. I took my too-small clothes to the Salvation Army.
9. I bought more chocolate, for a rainy day.
10. I registered for fall classes.
11. I cleaned my room.

Feels like a productive day. Now, to reward myself with a movie. What to pick, what to pick...
WolfGrrl

Judgmental Jane

I prefer deliberate insults to thoughtless ones. It's difficult to yell at someone for being thoughtless.

I am, at heart, a selfish person. I judge quickly and while I often rescind these flash judgments, that doesn't change the fact that I make them. I know that I'm judgmental. I know that I need to work on it.

Today's example is case-in-point: my roommate took a shower before informing me that my laundry was finished. It's irritating that she didn't tell me my laundry was finished so that I could set it to dry, clearing the washer for her laundry and limiting the time where we'd both need the drying racks. I spent forty minutes grinding my teeth and puttering because she annoyed me. Maybe I need a sign that says 'Doesn't play well with others.'

I haven't explained this well. I'm also having one of my hyper-active-and-thwarted days, where I throw myself into cleaning and tidying in an effort to avoid thinking. Thinking about what, I'm not sure, but I know my avoidance methods.

Did I say that I like school breaks? I do, when I have some sort of routine to follow. (Make my own? You crazy person, what kind of suggestion is that?!)

I can't go to the gym. Nothing is open because it's a holiday. My boyfriend is busy/not answering texts. My friends and family at home as busy with their lives. I really need a job. Or a pet. Ugh.

Well, there's no sense in being sulky. It's such a beautiful day - there's no reason to waste it being a brat.  I am waiting for my sheets to dry and then I can make my bed. Surely I can entertain myself for an hour or so. I'm a big girl, after all.

I don't want to be a big girl. I want something to do. 

WolfGrrl

Happy Normal Things

Thank God for school breaks. They make me a better person.

As we approach Easter weekend and the week-long holiday associated with it, I find myself in a very zen place. I feel like a balloon: light enough to float above all my problems and fears and up high enough to see them for the molehills they are. Mountains are reserved for national parks and skiing. 

I feel so...peaceful. Oh sure, minor things crop up like dropping my book while on the stationary bike or tripping over a pile of dirty clothes and (nearly) maiming myself, but since I've finished my first batch of assignments and talked to all my lovelies (both in NZ and the US), I'm happy. 

One area that has contributed to my languid happiness is clothing. In the US, I have many hang-ups regarding size (I think most people will agree they do too) that make it hard to be comfortable while shopping for clothes. Here, I can't be bothered to worry about what size it says on the jeans because a) I haven't a clue what the size difference is between countries, b) I've never before bought clothes in NZ and c) it's all expensive. I find myself jettisoning (or planning to jettison) clothes I've struggled to let go of for years and replacing them with things that fit who I am now, not who I was. 

A second contributing area is books. I love to read; I love it so much, I become a zombie. I disconnect from the world when I have a book in my hands. My boyfriend finds it annoying, as does anyone trying to get my attention. (I wouldn't notice if the flat burned down, to be honest. It's that bad. Or good.) Getting my local library card was like getting the keys to every toy store in the world: I have been a happy, busy bee this week as I plow through the first bag of books I hauled home. 

A third area is Weather. I hate the rain. I hate being cold, I hate being damp. I hate when it's humid and I hate when it's broiling. I love sunshine and breezy air, the smell of leaf mold (JK, although I do think that's the smell we identify as 'autumn') and the crispness of fall mornings. The weather this week has been fantastically gorgeous; warm during the day and cool at night. (I sound so bipolar right now, complaining about the changeable NZ weather in one post and praising it in another. LOL.) But, really, who doesn't love gorgeous scenery set off by beautiful weather? Every time I walk from the university to my flat I see the hills rising in the distance and start humming "The Sound of Music" theme song. 

I am lucky. So, so lucky. I am loved, I am pampered, I am strong and I'm smart(ish). And I get to do things that are absolutely amazing! I get to read book after book in puddles of New Zealand sunshine while calling my friends on Skype to tell them about my lack of stress (and about how much I miss them). And my beautiful boyfriend is talking to me. I love that most of all. (I'm such a romantic sap. And it takes so little effort to get me there. Sigh.) 

Now I want to go to sleep. My neck has cramps. 

WolfGrrl

20 Things Different

Hi everybody.

Now that I've been overseas for roughly three months, I thought I'd write a little post about things that I've noticed about New Zealand. If most of them are things that annoy me, well... Let's not go into that.

Right, off we go.

1. They use real sugar, not corn syrup.

2. Coins can actually be used to buy things. Like food. And books.

3. There is no turning right on red. Or more accurately, there is no right-hand-drive equivalent to turning right on red. (Primitives.)

4. You can buy alcohol everywhere. Liquor and lollies are cheap and easy to find.

5. The Weather. I change my clothes six times a day. 'Nuff said.

6. $26.00 a kilo for limes. WTF? I don't want that many limes...

7. There is no such thing as a crosswalk. Or rather, there is ALWAYS such a thing as a crosswalk.

8. The wildlife is oddly loud. And antagonistic.

9. Stupid EFTPOS machines. I spend so much time verifying that I am myself.

10. These people are too energetic for me. I feel like a slug. (I am a slug.)

11. It costs more than God can afford to pay. And that's with a decent exchange rate.

12. My friends are noticeably NOT PRESENT. Three thousand miles, pshh.

13. You can buy beer/wine at the movies. Shocking... (This should go under #4.)

14. Dan Brown is considered good literature.

15. It's called a Cashpoint, not an ATM. I fail.

16. I wear a size 3 shoe.

17. Not enough babies in my life. Except for that one party...

18. I have to convert everything.

19. I am still far away from my boyfriend.

20. Everything needs to be turned on twice. Even my computer.

Dunedin Hills

I haven't got any kind of personal profundity to record here today, except to note that making cookies with Cadbury drinking chocolate is a bad idea. They are too, too, TOO sweet. And I only ate the crumbs. Bleh.

I consider myself settled here on the other side of the world, yet no matter how quickly I've become accustomed to right-hand drive, military time and the addition of 'u's in all my words, (colour, favourite, etc.) this place just doesn't feel like home. Obviously, it feels more like home that the uni does, or Auckland airport, but there is overall a lack of something I can't easily identify. What to call this unnamed quality that haunts me even in sleep... If you think of a name, let me know. I'm stumped.

How is it the end of March? A year ago I had moved back home and was declaring a second major as I considered starting anti-depressants. In a little under a month, I will be celebrating one year with the man who still makes me laugh, smile, sigh and cry. I'm blessed, that's for sure. And he is too, hehe.

I'm definitely not who I used to be, and I'm grateful for that. I'm a lot less awkward, a bit less dramatic, and a nicer person. I'm definitely not jealous of the old me; how unhappy she was, and then how very very happy. (Ok, I might be a teensy bit jealous, but only because reliving the first few weeks of a new relationship would be a nice one-year gift.) So what's with the melancholy?

I've discovered, in the past few years, that I like to think out loud. It helps me solve problems and gives me a chance to hear some of my thoughts out of their mental context. I've also discovered that other people see my problems more clearly than I do. Not exactly rocket science, but it's a baby step.

Sometimes I feel like life is similar to the Dunedin hills: on clear days, you can see past three or four sets of hills and on misty days even the hills right within the central city are hidden from sight.

If that's not profound, then I'm not bored.

Yeah, I have no idea either. But I tried! We all have odd days...
WolfGrrl

Tombstone Tickets

I swear, these Air New Zealand tickets are going on my tombstone. They can fly my dead body to Wellington and back at the end of April, for I'll have committed hara kiri by then.

Let this be a lesson in over-preparing: I booked too soon, let me rue the results.

(I'm making too much out of this, but ugh. I think I'll take the hit on the money and just go with it.)

WolfGrrl

Only Human

I am a pair of eyes that finds wonder in you;
I am a jigsaw of smiles and tears;
I am the soul that glows when you're near
And the hands that would lift every shadow from your face.

I am imperfect, only human -
Often incoherent, often incomprehensible.
I am not magic, but flesh and blood;
I bleed, I cry, and I laugh for you.

I am sorry for being human,
But humanity is what I have to offer;
Humanity and an open mind
And a hesitant heart that loves too fiercely.

I can't promise mountains and rivers of gold
Or perfect happiness in every moment
But I will try -
I'll try and not count the cost.

That's what love is, I guess:
Not counting the cost of words and deeds,
But weighing that cost
As though tomorrow depends on it.

I don't fight with big actions, but small ones;
I struggle too, to find my way.
It's so new, this world we've built
And so terrifyingly fragile.

I don't want to break it.
But I also don't want to break.
After all, I'm
Only human.

I Want To Go Home

I want to go home, but I don't know to which home.

I have a home in the States, with my parents, sister, dog and cat. And I have a home with my boyfriend, whether he's in Wellington, Auckland, or on the moon.

I don't know which home I want, because wherever I am, there I'm not.

While I don't think I'll ever be too old to crawl in my mother's lap and demand a hug, I want to crawl into my boyfriend's arms and have him banish my sadness.

I miss the insane cat and my stuffed animals. I miss my friends at home. I miss my doctors, and the normality of a system that I understand. I miss...my life.

I like it here; I'm not miserable being here. It's just that my ability to self-sustain is cracking, a little.

I want my Max. I want my Mommy.
I can't have either right now, and it sucks.

WG

Big Girls Don't...Waffle?

I don't mean the kind of waffles that can be burned. I mean the verb 'to waffle' or to remain indecisive.

Obviously, the first flaw of my title is that everyone is indecisive. Being abroad has given me a new perspective on myself and how I function; this is excellent news for personal growth, and a bit disquieting for personal security. I'm changing and I'm not sure I can handle it.

Recently, I've been doing some thinking about what I want, what I like, and what makes me happy. School, which for a long time was the main constant in my life, no longer excites or enthralls me. I enjoy attending lectures and absorbing new information, but I have less inclination to do assignments and assessments than ever before.

It's annoying, really, to feel mildly guilty about being a slacker while doing other things that are more fulfilling, like cooking, cleaning (yes, I'm weird) and talking to people. I can't decide if this is my life balancing itself out, or if I'm losing it.

I don't really feel like I'm losing it. I'm happier than I can remember being (waffling aside; maybe that should be my constant. I can't accept stability and contentment without wondering what I'm not doing). I'm sleeping better, eating better, and generally feeling better. I look ahead to the future with anticipatory joy. So why the feelings of mid-education-life crisis?

God only knows. Really. I have a few guesses, a few theories, none of which are coherent enough to be aired in public. Part of my growing-up experience is trying not to judge myself (and others) quite as harshly as I used to. It's working, but with the disadvantage of leaving me without a means of measuring myself. Even unhealthy habits are reassuring; losing them, or changing them, is unsettling.

I don't like to think that I'm prone to giving up. I've seen what I can manage when I stick to my guns. I've also felt regret for missed opportunities. I save those for when I feel pitiful and abused. A good pity-fest usually disgusts me enough to negate those regrets.

Now I've lost my train of thought. Oh, yes, waffling. My boyfriend likes to say that I always have a choice, and in a technical sense, he's right. I could decide not to finish my education and just go ahead and find a job. But, I was raised in a society and a household that value education as security for the future. I don't want to be dependent on anyone, and I do want to be able to have fun without counting every penny. Education gives me options. Every girl needs options.

Ugh. Maybe I have too many options. (Isn't that counter to what I was just saying? Nevermind.)

I guess what feels like waffling is in fact, me growing up. I'm weighing personal happiness and instant gratification against immediate Ehhh-feelings and long-term security. I'm all about security, though less so than I once was. And now I'm also about personal happiness.

There isn't any reason why the two can't be mutually inclusive. Obviously, part of being happy is being secure, and for someone like me, being secure makes me very happy.

Maybe waffling is a good thing; it encourages self-reflection, and that's always a good thing. I like knowing myself better. I like being predictable (only to myself, though. Mystery is an excellent trait to cultivate).

I know what will make me happy in the short-term: finishing this silly history assignment (700 words? Pfff I could write that in my sleep) and some lunch.

Cheers!
WolfGrrl

What About Them?

What about those moments of absolute terror and despair that strike you from nowhere? What about those, huh? I know I'm not the only one that has them. 

When I told my mother that I didn't want to disappoint her and my father by not going to graduate school, I thought I was going to be sick. In the US, school is considered to be of the utmost importance and a good education is seen by many as a gateway to a better life - to the "American Dream." 

Folks, the American Dream has air quotes because it's a myth. It isn't the American Dream we need to be chasing, but our own.

I don't want to continue my formal education. I love to learn, but not when it comes to regimented, assessed and cemented knowledge. I like to learn from people who are passionate about what they're teaching. I like to engage with minds greater than my own. I believe that I learn all the time, whether I'm buying shoes, getting ripped off, or talking through a problem with a friend. I don't think formal education will prevent me from making mistakes: it might, in some strange way, encourage me.

American society has raised its children to be so terrified of failure that we cannot imagine a future that deviates from the most vocally advertised path. So many of my friends are beating themselves bloody trying to 'get ahead' and forge a career that will make their parents, their society, and their culture happy.

Forget them. Make yourself happy.

I suck at it too, you know. I'm completely guilty of telling myself I 'should' be this or I 'should' do that. Now I'm calling bullshit (sorry) on that technique. The rest of the world, while it has its share of societal  and cultural fuckwittage, manages to produce more confident and secure individuals than the US.

Americans, don't give me crap about this; you know it's true. You see it in our economy, our military-industrial complex and our foreign relations. We chase the American Dream to the exclusion of progress, creativity, personal growth and personal happiness. We work too damn hard to be so damn miserable.

I want to be a person that makes other people happy (and makes a decent living). Is that such an impossible dream? SERIOUSLY? I want to watch my kids become happy, well-adjusted and mature individuals with a sense of communitas. Is that such an impossible dream? I want to love my husband, be there for my friends and herd my family together when we scatter.

Pooh Bear is a bear of very little brain, but often there's wisdom in that little brain. What makes his adventures so comforting is that he manages to learn and grow without losing himself. WE DON'T WANT TO LOSE OURSELVES, yet everything we do drives us further and further from who we think we are. A person can only make so many compromises before the deal loses meaning (mixing my metaphors; oops).

Listen to Christopher Robin, who, with the wisdom of childhood and the affection of an honest friend, told Pooh:

You're braver than you believe
Stronger than you seem and
Smarter than you think

So am I. So are you. So are the dreams you nurture in the shadow of the "American Dream."
Chase those dreams, dammit. Life's too short to spend time on cultural fuckwittage.

WolfGrrl

Other than Ordinary

I've never considered myself anything other than ordinary (daydreams and revenge fantasies aside). However, as I experience more of the world and I meet more of its denizens, I've come to realise something.

I like to make people smile. And I'm pretty good at it.

Maybe that's two things.

When I was asked what superpower I want to have, I said I wanted the power to make everyone I meet happy. It seems silly, but it really is what I want to do with my life. I get so much pleasure from helping others help themselves, and from brightening other people's days. I like to give them the absolute best I can, and I like to make them laugh.

I'm selfish and morose and flawed; I'm not perfect and I don't want to be. But, there can't be this many nice people in the world. Aren't people supposed to be self-serving and judgmental? (Yeah, there are a few of those wandering around. Stay away from me, please.)

I don't love a lot of people. That's just my nature.

I love the saying "If you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours." It's a little thing to make such a big difference. I feel like a three year-old bestowing trinkets on passing adults.

"And a smile for Mommy, and a smile for Daddy. And a big smile for Max, and for my friends at home and the guys in my History tutorial who didn't seem fazed by my overly-caffinated self."

Wut.
WolfGrrl

Mmmm... Oops

It's been too long.

I haven't any excuses except the usual: I'm busy with classes and exploring New Zealand.

However, my flatmate and I collaborated to make a very delicious and very New Zealand dinner, so I thought I'd share the recipe with you, readers! It's very easy to make and takes a total of twenty minutes (ten if you're a person who can use a can opener properly).

Recipe for the Preparation of CORN FRITTERS and FRUIT SALAD

Corn Fritters

ingredients: 1 egg, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1 cup plain flour, 1 can (creamed) corn, a pinch of salt and pepper, 1-2 tablespoons of water to thin and some oil for frying.

preparation: in medium bowl mix egg, baking powder, flour and seasonings with water. This should form a thick paste (about the consistency of pancakes, maybe a bit thicker). Add corn and mix well.

In pan on stove heat 1-2 tablespoons vegetable oil (on low or medium heat). Add dropped spoonfuls of batter to oil. The fritters cook depending on size; for silver-dollar fritters wait 1-2 minutes before flipping them. Generally, follow the rules for making thick pancakes. Fritters should be browned on the outside and fluffy on the inside.

Eat with toppings of choice, and feel free to add extras like vegetables, bacon, or other ingredients to the batter!

Fruit Salad

Even special people like me can make fruit salad (excepting the use of a can opener). After mangling your can of peaches/pineapple/pears/whatever open, pour off juice and transfer fruit chunks to bowl. Add chopped banana, apple squares, grapes, and other fresh fruits to taste. Eat messily and with gusto.

Bon appetit, mes amis!
WolfGrrl

Across the World

I've been slack, but how can one find motivation when the weather is delightful, one's boyfriend is close, and there's a whole new country to explore? I barely use the internet now that I am abroad, but now I shall check in and let those of you who follow me know that I'm alive and busy.

My boyfriend took both these photos; I am not the most competent when it comes to photography. But I shall have to learn, because in two weeks I leave him to attend school 800 kms away. And I just have to document getting into my flat and trying to find my way around a whole new city. 

Ciao! 

WolfGrrl

Many Homes

It's evening here, and the gray winter twilight has crept up to the windows. I'm listening to music from some favourite shows and thinking about tomorrow.

Tomorrow, tomorrow - for so many months now my life has revolved around tomorrow. January fourth is my D-Day, folks. My departure day (yes, I know that's not what it stands for, I'm making an allusion).

What can I say? Part nervous, part hyperactive, part ecstatic, I don't count the hours. I'll be in the US for a good long while yet, but it's still something I can't wrap my head around. Here we all are, everyone being a little nicer than usual, a little sweeter than usual. Here I am, sitting on my butt in the living room, listening to the dog bark while my mother cooks.

It's not that I haven't tried to imagine being absent; it's more that I can't imagine it. (Oh, now the dog's sulking. Cute.) This is home, and I know that it'll always be home. That's the lesson I finally learned about traveling: home stays, but you can make portable ones as needed. I'm going from my first home to my second home; my boyfriend is picking me up in an airport across the world.

Big day and all that, but I thought I'd pop in and leave a little goodbye since I have a) been absent for over a week and b) I will continue to be absent (or at least more absent than usual) for a while yet. Because first there's traveling, then there's settling, and then there's exploring! I'll be so busy, I might not be able to find some internet and a few minutes to write out an update.

Now, now, I did promise that I'd keep up this blog, and that's what I'll do. Got to let the friends at home know that I'm alive.

Happiness and good luck to all of you in the new year!
WolfGrrl