this week i ave mostly been...

...feeling a bit sorry for meself again, it must be said. But I think I'm past it now, + thank jeeesus for that. I bore myself silly when I'm low, so hate to think how bored everyone else must be. This week saw a lot of unnecessary napping, chocolate eating + general grouchiness. I tried to balance it with Being Good To Myself stuff - long walks at the beach, plenty of vegies, Mewi's rescue remedy (go the placebo!) - but have accepted that sometimes I just need to wallow. It has to be done even if it doesn't necessarily achieve anything, no matter how good the Reasons To Wallow are. Maybe, at very best, it achieves a little balancing out of personality + renewed realisation that I prefer myself/my life/my experience of the world when I'm positive.

And there was still plenty to make me smile. Largely the people around me who I love + feel blessed by. (I posted some of this week's email banter because it demonstrates how little it takes to make me smile... a mere thimbleful of friendship, care, silliness.) A great dance class today where I got to literally shake off some of my blues. Having dinner snatched out of my hand by a cheeky seagull on Tuesday night. (Nature has a sense of humour and no respect for any of us!) Getting an invite round to Shady's + cementing a new friendship with someone gorgeous. Making the choice to stay home on a Saturday night - it might make me a geek but it's what I need + I'm getting better at recognising my needs. Manu. Margarita therapy with the work gang last night.

On that note, I'm posting the photo in spite of myself. I do hate it Bez, but I've been documenting you all week, looking silly for your conference presentation, so the least I can do is reciprocate. Next time we need to work harder on styling the Claire Looking Like An Idiot shot, so that I at least look like an idiot without a goofy hunchback and such prominent tuckshop-lady-arms. Ooops... I guess that's just what I actually look like... learning to live with it... still. Please note that I spilt the margarita prior to drinking any + only sucked it up off the table because everyone was egging me on (plus the fact that it was probably worth five bucks). It was that kinda week. New lows all round.

word of the week

punctate

1. Marked or studded with points or dots; having minute rounded spots, or (esp.) depressions resembling punctures, scattered over the surface; of the nature of or characterized by such markings.

2. As punctate-scabrous, scabrous with minute dots or points; punctate-striate, having striæ or streaks marked with dots, or formed of dots arranged in rows; punctate-sulcate, having furrows marked with dots.

3. Path. Having or coming to a definite point.

4. Having or ending in a point; pointed.

babay pig tigers

ME: You know what... I feel mildly better! Special presents and visits from Smokey, Bez's super-special shoes, morning coffee, a trolley-load of cake and birthday celebrations to plan. Thanks guys. You're the bestus! Grumpy Claire

S: B's shoes are fantastic however I heard that the shoes are made from the skins of baby (sorry babay) pig tigers who didn't make it i.e. eaten by mummy not-pig tiger.

B: hehe. s yr funny. i had to recycle those babay tigers because they were so special. don't be sad claire, there are lots of unfortunate people in the world, and you have lovely people around you, and you have lots of lovely shoes.

DISCLAIMER: All good ideas in this post blatantly stolen from Bez + Smokey.

me + mr t do philosophy

ME: Bez says there's something freaky going on with the stars. Any more news?

MR T: Yeh, I'm not sure. I'm more of a star enthusiast than expert. How’s things?

M: I've moved past my momentary interest anyway. I checked the Herald horoscopes + they told me I was feeling enthusiastic + energetic. Couldn't really be more wrong. Last night I decided that 2007 will be my year of accepting aloneness. No more pursuing of boys from 1 January.

T: We're all alone deep down no matter what, hanging out for those brief moments of intimacy... sigh…

M: You've come over all buddhist on me. I'm not too comfortable with the concept of embracing aloneness. But I'm learning to cope.

T: Just a case of getting to point where you enjoy your life well enough.

M: I live in serious anticipation of "enjoying my life well enough". Any advice on achieving that one, oh sage master? I don't think that baking in my own juices here in aircon deficient library land is aiding the cause.

T: Yeh I dunno, to me it seems that you've got everything in place how you want it, you're just craving some sidedish of man gravy to accompany it. You love your job (deep down), you dig wollongong (even more), + you like your place. So that's all pretty solid. You could take up big game hunting maybe?

M: You're right, as usual. I don't want to want the gravy, but I do. The merciless killing of large creatures could be the answer I guess. So could a good slap or my cold turkey approach. No one round to slap me so leaning towards the latter. I should have auditioned for that nunnery reality show after all. That would have made non-pursual of boys much easier.

word of the week

This week we have a toss up between envenomation and interconnectivity, both courtesy of Crazy Nattie + both beyond proper definition by the OED. Nat is a wonderful flame-haired
colleague of mine. As far as I'm concerned, every office should have one. She's an unashamed sci-fi geek, a font of curious knowledge + a speaker of her own mind. She's seriously dirty + brazenly honest. She peppers my day with such gems as "Are you on the rag yet Claire? Cos I'm overdue.", "Jesus people are full of shit." + "Have I told you to fuck off yet today?" (directed at her boss), exclaimed in the loudest of tones and accompanied by a cackling laugh. All management exercises are refered to under the blanket term of "corporate masturbation" + all colleagues are referred too as "luvvie" or "that arsehole". When she laughs you can hear it through the whole office + as the sound travels people's faces light up. I've been feeling a bit envenomated myself this week, but Nat never fails to bring a smile to my dial. We love ya Nattie!

envenom
1. To venom (a person, an animal); to poison by contact, bite, inoculation.
2. To put venom or poison on (a weapon, etc.); to taint (the air, ground, etc.) with poison; to render noxious or poisonous.
3. To infuse venom or bitterness into (actions, relations, etc.); to impart bitterness to (the feelings or words of a person); to embitter, make virulent.
4. To impregnate with moral ‘venom’; to corrupt, vitiate.

inter
Denoting ‘Between or among other things or persons; between the parts of, in the intervals of, or in the midst of, something; together with; between times or places, at intervals, here and there’

connectivity
The characteristic, or order, or degree, of being connected (in various senses).

PS: Interconnectivity = corporate masturbation.

illustration friday: clear

Finding clear space to feel what I need to feel.

you must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it

I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy… The matter is difficult to put into words. For fear, real fear, such as shakes you to your foundation, such as you feel when you are brought face to face with your mortal end, nestles in your memory like gangrene: it seeks to rot everything, even the words with which you speak of it. So you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don't, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.

From 'Life of Pi' by Yann Martel

mixed up...

I've been thinking about ideals + expectations. How pervasive they manage to be, regardless of how flexible we think we are or how loose our plans are for life. In the background there's always the unspoken recipe: the ingredients that we deliberately prepare + mix up, all a contribution towards a bigger whole. The hopes + dreams. Those little voices that say "if I head down X path, then Y will happen".

But sometimes Y doesn't happen.

Sometimes the recipe goes wrong, or you're missing a necessary ingredient. Maybe the sugar is left out + things don't taste as sweet as you'd hoped. Maybe - if the universal you is anything like me - you burn that last batch of biscuits + that makes you cry. All the frustration seeps out + the experience sours. Your cooking sucks! You'll never make a decent biscuit again! Why do you even frickin bother, when nothing turns out the way it's supposed to?! All fears + criticisms surface to spell out D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R. The internal Drama Queen springs from nowhere to box you round the ears. But as quickly as she arrives she's gone again.

A mate turns up to put the kettle on + dry your tears. She has a packet of honey jumbles in her bag + they taste just fine.

I'll have a pink one please.