A year to the day …

Given my busy schedule, with the baking/shopping/working, and of course Skyrim, it’s hard to believe that I actually had time to notice that a year has passed since that fateful afternoon I spent with Ms L. But I did. In truth it’s hard not remember, given that it coincided with my brother’s birthday. Well technically it was the day before. The fallout started on his birthday. 

So, a year on, where are we? Nowhere.

Whatever friendship there might have been is long since dead. Sad, but such is life. I’ll be honest, part of me is still disappointed at how things turned out. I extended the olive branch more than once, but got nothing back. Given that we are in the same profession, and in the same city, I had hoped we could at least have parted amicably. Nothing makes a conference or industry event more awkward than being introduced to someone who would quite happily scratch your eyes out (I know this from experience, but that’s a story for another time). While the situation hasn’t presented itself yet, I am aware of the possibility, and have prepared a response accordingly.

Long ago I mastered the ancient art of civility. I don’t often practice it outside of work, mostly because my friends accept me for the cranky bastard that I am, but it is a skill I possess. I harbour Ms L no ill will. So if our paths cross, I will smile and nod, engage in polite conversation (if the situation calls for it), and then be on my way.

But I won’t be offering gingerbread. That’s only for my peoples.

Sitting quietly

I am not very popular with Miss R right now. What have I done? Nothing that I think justifies the wobbly Miss R had. Now it’s no secret that most of us shorten names. Anything two syllables (or longer) is fair game. Miss R does not share this view. In fact she sees my need to shorten names as pathological. She had never had anyone shorten her name before me, and while she is prepared to accept it as something that I do, she’s not happy for anyone else to do it. 

Here’s where it gets tricky. She won’t actually tell anyone that she doesn’t like it. She’s too nice for that sort of directness, (which is probably why she did so well with Japanese). So as the instigator, it’s all my fault, and I will be yelled at accordingly. 

I should point out that I find this all rather amusing. In the grand scheme of things I can’t see any of our friends having an issue with using her whole name, provided she ever works up the courage to tell them. I also know that most of the steam is a result of Miss R not getting enough sleep. However, while she is working on her garden (and has both a sledge hammer and a metal hoe within reach) I am going to stay out of her way. 

Safety first.

Familiar pain

Miss R is very annoyed with her best friend. This friend is stuck in a loop of her own making. She wants a relationship, with a good man, but instead hooks up with losers (who do the “I just want to be friends” dance, usually just after she’s finished blowing them). Now I’m not making any judgments. What a person does with their body is their own business. And we’ve all put ourselves in dangerous situations at some point. However, most of us learn from our mistakes, rather than repeating the behaviour and crying “Why me?” when everything goes to shit. 

 

Miss R started out being very supportive, but she has reached her limit. Now she is channelling her inner Hawm. And it feels good. She is normally the nice one, as anyone who knows her will attest to, so this new attitude is a bit of a shock. But it gets the job done. It won’t last long, the guilt will eventually be too much. For the moment she’s getting on with things and taking no prisoners, so I’m enjoying the show.

What’s this got to do with pain? Good question. Part of her friends problem, and something many people also suffer from, is the inability to leave a wound alone. As human beings we take perverse pleasure in wallowing in our own pain and misery. Rather than let the scab heal we keep picking at it. We read text messages/emails/letters from people who’ve hurt us. We listen to music, watch movies/tv shows, read books they recommended when they were still part of our lives.

Why do we do these things to ourselves? Lots of different reasons. Mostly, I think, it’s because we don’t really want to let then go. Even though they treated us like shit, even though we are better off without them, even though we know it’s wrong. Computers and the internet have made this harder to avoid. Now you can check that persons facebook/twitter/myspace/blog/webpage etc. anytime, from anywhere. Every email/tweet/message you ever sent each other is there. Every click keeping the wound open.

How much simpler thing were, when you could just burn the letters and move away. That is always my policy: destroy everything and move on. But it doesn’t always work. Sometimes the pain still lingers, even months after the wound closes over. Every day, it’s still there. Granted it is not as sharp as it once was, and it no longer fills the entire space, but it is still there. Most of the time I can ignore it, but I’m not having a good few days. Unfortunately another familiar pain has come back to visit, which is making me more cranky than usual.

My body is on the warpath, which means my pain levels are up. I’m due at the blood bank, so I can’t take any painkillers, and I’m stuck doing everything with my left hand. I’ve got an appointment with the torture merchant tomorrow morning, so hopefully things will improve. If not it’ll have to cancel the blood, and hit the hard stuff.

Meeting up with my cousin and her mum in the city tomorrow. Should be interesting. Hopefully I’ll be able to move my arm by then.

August in review

I know I said I'd blog more this month but I just haven't had the time. That means another bullet point post. Next month will be better. It has to get better.

• Four year anniversary. Miss R has been putting up with me for quite some time. In fact, this is now the longest relationship I've been in. Not always perfect, but we haven't killed each other in our sleep. Though she has been tempted to kill one or two others ...

• Spent 45 minutes explaining to a library patron why librarians study to do our job. I don't think she realised that she was being offensive, but telling a librarian that anyone could do their job is like waving a red flag at a bull.* I managed to make sure she was fully informed and she left in awe of librarians everywhere. She also came back to let me know about a better job going at different library. There was much rejoicing in the workroom too.

• Scared the girls at the blood bank by having an ectopic heartbeat. Every fourth beat was doing a twostep. I felt fine, but it made them nervous so I have a chat with my Doc. ECG says I’m fine, according to the technician. Was a moment where it looked like she was going to have to shave my chest to get the pads to stick, but we managed to part the fur.

• After much consultation I decided to withdraw from one of my masters subjects. I’m just not getting enough out of it by doing it online, so I’ll do it face to face next semester. I’ve kept all the notes so I’ll be better prepared. My sanity is worth more, so if it takes an extra semester to finish so be it.

That’s about it for the time being. Slightly less uni work for now, but more time to put into the subject I’m still in. Off to the Melbourne Writers Festival next weekend. I’ve got tickets for a few events so it should be fun. I may even treat myself to dinner at The Chocolate Buddha. I’ll be the one in the corner watching the big screen. 

Tonight I’m off to dinner with Miss R and her family. Let’s see if I can get to the end of the meal without trying to kill myself with my chopsticks. **

*For the record, yes I know bulls are colour-blind, but the saying conveys a point rather than factual information. For more information on cows please take yourself to 636, or ask your librarian for assistance.

**Miss R’s family aren’t really that bad. Her father and I just have different politics. If he starts on about climate change and global warming being a myth again ...

mini post

Two quick things to share. Actually more like three.

1. I'm finding I have a slight addiction to playing WordFeud on my smartphone (scrabble type game). I've anyone cares to join me just search for Hawm. My spelling may be atrocious, but my vocabulary (and multitude of dictionaries) make up for it.
2. I just read The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss in 3 days. Get yourself a copy of The Name of the Wind first, and then read them both.
3. This is an example of why Miss R and I are well suited. I'd still rather have my own castle (and not live in an earthquake prone area), but still very cool.

That is all :)

Convention for those wounded in love

I should be doing my assignment, but I thought I would take a moment to post this up. More than a few people have been having less than stellar personal relationships of late. Some of us are coming out the other side of our funks, and some of us are still wading through. I found this a while ago, and reading it helped. It seems appropriate to put it up now.

Convention for those wounded in love by Paulo Coelho

General provisions:

A – Whereas the saying “all is fair in love and war” is absolutely correct;

B – Whereas for war we have the Geneva Convention, approved on 22 August 1864, which provides for those wounded in the battle field, but until now no convention has been signed concerning those wounded in love, who are far greater in number;

It is hereby decreed that:

Article 1 – All lovers, of any sex, are alerted that love, besides being a blessing, is also something extremely dangerous, unpredictable and capable of causing serious damage. Consequently, anyone planning to love should be aware that they are exposing their body and soul to various types of wounds, and that they shall not be able to blame their partner at any moment, since the risk is the same for both.

Article 2 – Once struck by a stray arrow fired from Cupid’s bow, they should immediately ask the archer to shoot the same arrow in the opposite direction, so as not to be afflicted by the wound known as “unrequited love”. Should Cupid refuse to perform such a gesture, the Convention now being promulgated demands that the wounded partner remove the arrow from his/her heart and throw it in the garbage. In order to guarantee this, those concerned should avoid telephone calls, messages over the Internet, sending flowers that are always returned, or each and every means of seduction, since these may yield results in the short run but always end up wrong after a while. The Convention decrees that the wounded person should immediately seek the company of other people and try to control the obsessive thought: “this person is worth fighting for”.

Article 3 – If the wound is caused by third parties, in other words if the loved one has become interested in someone not in the script previously drafted, vengeance is expressly forbidden. In this case, it is allowed to use tears until the eyes dry up, to punch walls or pillows, to insult the ex-partner in conversations with friends, to allege his/her complete lack of taste, but without offending their honour. The Convention determines that the rule contained in Article 2 be applied: seek the company of other persons, preferably in places different from those frequented by the other party.

Article 4 – In the case of light wounds, herein classified as small treacheries, fulminating passions that are short-lived, passing sexual disinterest, the medicine called Pardon should be applied generously and quickly. Once this medicine has been applied, one should never reconsider one’s decision, not even once, and the theme must be completely forgotten and never used as an argument in a fight or in a moment of hatred.

Article 5 – In all definitive wounds, also known as “breaking up”, the only medicine capable of having an effect is called Time. It is no use seeking consolation from fortune-tellers (who always say that the lost lover will return), romantic books (which always have a happy ending), soap-operas on the television or other such things. One should suffer intensely, completely avoiding drugs, tranquilizers and praying to saints. Alcohol is only tolerated if kept to a maximum of two glasses of wine a day.

Final determination:

Those wounded in love, unlike those wounded in armed conflict, are neither victims nor torturers. They chose something that is part of life, and so they have to accept both the agony and the ecstasy of their choice.

And those who have never been wounded in love will never be able to say: “I have lived”. Because they haven’t.

indoor picnic

I love my friends. No really, I have awesome friends. I could try and list all the ways that they are awesome, but that would just make everyone else sick with jealousy or depressed that my friends aren’t their friends. It’s all true.

This afternoon’s picnic is an example of what happens when you put us all together:

• Miss A’s lentil and chickpea surprise (one of the few things I could eat, stupid body),
• Mr T (no, not that mister T) dates, cheeses, olives, crackers, tasty looking cob loaf (stuffed with lots of things I could eat, and one that I couldn’t),
• Miss J’s chicken pasta bake,
• Miss K’s zucchini slice (definitely something I can’t eat),
• Ms H’s fresh and hot non-denominational buns (with serious amounts of butter).
• Mr N provided the chocolate and walnut cookies, and I made my spicy Cajun capsicum, cheese, and corn loaf.

Lots and lots of food. Of course it’s not the food that makes my friends awesome. It’s more the loyalty, understanding, and the fact that no level of geekiness is too great (though four of us singing the “popcorn song” and could name the two games it was the theme music for was a very geeky moment). It's nice knowing that your friends will back you. They don't need you to explain. They are just there, no matter what.

It is shame that we don’t manage to spend more time together, but we have a few things to look forward to:

• Thor,
• Captain America,
• The Zoo (our gang of roving librarians [and a few non-librarians, we don't discriminate] will be enjoying ourselves, but are still prepared to leap in to action, correcting parents that are filling their children’s brains with rot),
• And a final Harry Potter marathon before Deathly Hallows pt2 is released. (I particularly like the idea of hiring the whole cinema for a bunch of us, but don’t know that we’ll actually go that far).

But first we have to survive work/uni, which means more assignments/hours/PhD proposal. Wonder if I can get zombies into my disaster management plan ...