Fantastico Mexicano

My sister's birthday party was the weekend just past. Being a twin, it was kind of mine too; even though i didn't want to have a party at all. It was all round good fun. She got Wasamba to play so if i liked it or not, i was going to be there performing. But that was a real blast. I was lucky enough to get out of cleaning the aftermath of it too.
On Sunday i met with two old friends; we spent most of our time just laughing and walking miles. I liked it.
I've only had work since then, and i really don't want to waste my time writing how many different ways i detest the place. I found myself in a spot of just plain arguments this evening, about nothing. I need my own space and no one else seems to understand that. i hope it all resolves itself soon. I am oh so tired of arguing every day. It has become just a way to past the time even. That and watching re-runs of the gilmore girls.

This has, and always will be

The ffilm that shaped my childhood. I would watch this atleast 3 times a week.
Now all i need to do is find my video of it again...Ah, George Pal.

In the wee small hours of the morning.

My days are long. I wait for the final hour, where i can stop pretending to care and drag my feet home. There i slouch in a chair for a few hours; complaining to myself about all the things i have and haven't done, and what i should be doing.
After that, i sometimes get up and sing to myself in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of my clumsy fingers trying to grasp a glass from the bottom cupboard. If i'm in a good mood, i'll read my book; an easy escape from reality. But at the moment, i just sit. Preoccupied by something.
Next thing i know it's the evening, and the sound of disagreements and animals wanting attention fills my ears. This is where i have discovered the wonders of my bed. The sweet shelter of the white feather douve, and my soft pink pillow.
Soon, this will all be different again. We are moving house. My "new" room has an orange and blue wall. Not your typical bright horrible playschool kind of orange and blue, but a desert kind. If you get what i mean.
So i have decided my room will have a nice take of the great western desert. Which is why i am in search for one of those big paintings of the Latino woman in the great red dress. And i will only have smokey dim lighting, And some cowboy leaning up against the wall; chewing on a toothpick.

Ah, my sanctuary.
But that's about it. I doubt it will happen. For now i am not in the mood to be optimistic. I'm just going to lay in my bed and wait.
Goodnight.

care to share.

rose hip and chet

This is the first day i have had to myself since i returned home. I decided at 7 this morning that i did not want to participate in the daily grind of answering telephone calls and pretending that i do care about the ups and downs of real estate.

So i plan on using my time wisely. Have a bath, practise piano (finally!) and finish my book.

These certain things, i hate to do when others are around. And this is quite the rare ocassion. The sound of just myself clicking these keys and my dog softly sleeping makes me feel a lot more calmer and content than i have been feeling since returning. I realise more and more each day that i really do like being on my own sometimes. Not forever ofcourse, for i like to entertain and feel affection. But for the time being, this is nice.

Even if the bath is cold, the piano keys will not agree with my fingers and the book is boring.

Woes.

I get along without you very well, of course I do;Except when soft rains fall and drip from leaves, then I recallThe thrill of being sheltered in your arms, of course I do. But I get along without you very well.I've forgotten you, just like I should, of course I have;Except to hear your name, or someone's laugh that is the same.But I've forgotten you just like I should.What a guy! What a fool am I?To think my breaking heart could kid the moon.What's in store? Should I 'phone once more?No, it's best that I stick to my tune.I get along without you very well, of course I do;Except perhaps in pring, but I should never think of springFor that would surely break my heart in two.

What kind of fool I am.

A fool to believe i was in love.
A fool to believe i was loved.
A fool to think i knew i was right.
A fool for thinking you were wrong.
A fool for following.
A fool for leading.
A fool for thinking the way i do.
A fool for hoping the way i do.
A fool for seeing everything that way.
A fool for taking my shoes off when walking in the dark.
A fool for declining your offer.
A fool for wasting my time.
A fool for eating too many sweets.
A fool for being indecisive
A fool for breaking that window.
A fool for mixing the colours with my whites.
A fool for leaving.
A fool for returning.
A fool for thinking that this was for the best.

In the eye of the beholder.

When i was much younger, my family owned a business.
It was fairly easy then. We had many things that made us very comfortable.
My granddad and grandmother owned a boat, called Front Runner. We would take that boat all the way to Rottnest; my granddad driving, at least 2 times a year. That boat was my granddad's escape. He loved it.
Then one day, We lost that business. We lost our luxuries. And then, my granddad lost his boat. I think he didn't care that they took anything; but not his boat.
Although that was a long time ago now, and we have all seemed to start again. My grandmother still bringing up the subject once in a while, but never my granddad. He just pushed through these years with nothing to say.

Today he came to me, asked me to photocopy a document. There was about 6 pages and they were pink. I held them in my hands waiting to hearwhat someone had to say to me, as my eyes secretly drifted on to the page.
"Renewal of dock, Council of Rottnest Island"
Signed and paid for, my granddad had paid for the dock of a boat he no longer has, and has been ever since he lost it.

My heart sank. I never ever have thought about my granddad as having such a sad tendency like that. He has always been the very formal man, who sits at his desk on the weekends; writing important things he needs to do. Plans must be followed. There is no time to be upset.
They took his boat. And the only thing that still makes him feel like he owns it, is to pay for an empty dock that once held probably the only thing he loved. I don't think i have felt that sad in a long time like i did when i realised it all.

And now only today, when i looked over at him sitting in his desk; i saw an old man. A sad old man who has spent his whole life trying to hold on to things he loved, really only to have them taken away. Today was the first day i really got to see what he was like under his suit and tie. I can hear that small break in his voice now. And now i love him even more.