New Abode
The Toscat is sort of leaning, sitting up next to me as I type. My back hurts, but I don't really mind. I'm exhausted, and that's okay. I'm home. I am where I'm meant to be. I love my new dwelling.
I feel like I'm in a boat because the room is narrow, yet when I look up there's a window that fills the whole end wall (just beyond all the stuff I haven't unpacked). In the morning, the light comes through that window (it sort of looks like another ranch slider until you get closer and see that the windows open outwards). Through that ranch slider like facade you see only native bush and the a few hints of other houses in the far off distance. I can walk around naked, and if someone is willing to get out their binoculars to see it, then they can go for gold.
Much thanks goes to Handsome Rob, the Sexy Ex and Da Mamma for their help in shifting all my marvelous and extraneous crap. Handsome Rob turned up with a trailer and despite having a number of other really important things going on in his life, still chose to spend hours helping me. I couldn't help but think about friendships once again, how someone can be in your life in 1992, and then shit, here we are in 2012 and it's still easy to connect with this person.
What's going on when you have a friend for many years and you didn't recognise that they were a narcissistic, passive aggressive, self loathing A- hole ... and yet there are other friends you haven't been in touch with for a million years and then they glide back into your life so sweetly and kindly? Is that a sign that I am standing up for myself finally? That I'm not willing to be quite so understanding (ie; doormat?). I guess you can be understanding to a point, but if that point means taking abuse (even quiet abuse, the kind that with holds love as punishment), then the point has been lost.
Here's to the discovery of points. Ha, I'm not even making sense anymore, I'm so tired.
Jobbie:
Teaching today was a bit ramshackle, and I haven't got a lesson plan for tomorrow. I'll get up early and do it, I'm just fried right now. I don't have enough hours, but I'm really excited about what I can do to help these women improve their English skills and build up their confidence. I just hope they don't bring their children tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I love children, of course I do. I'm brilliant with them. But not when I'm trying to teach English to adults. Kind of hard when the mother whips out her breast and keeps feeding the demanding little beast during her English proficiency test. Another woman had this super ADHD child who was completely jacked up on sugar. The only way to shut him up was to draw pictures for him. I whispered to him as I drew, which he fortunately copied. I quite liked him when he whispered. He seemed less like the spawn of satan that way.
Oh, I'm not pregnant either, phew! I wouldn't mind popping one out if I had a consistent and committed partner etc, but it wouldn't be easy to do it in the current circumstances! Ha! Imagine that blog entry. I did wonder what on earth I'd do, and had decided I'd have managed fine, and that of course it would have been a very cute and well loved sproglet. Shit. It would have had the biggest eyes and lips ever!
The night away in Whangmata to get Nanna's ashes buried in with Robert's was really good. A number of rellies couldn't come or didn't want to, so it ended up being really intimate which was brilliant. This man we'll call Pat presided over the burial. He and his wife had known Nanna and my Step Grandad (he also got re-buried on the same day) for about 35 years.
It was kind of funny, because Pat talked about my Step Granddad like he was the most awesome man in the world, yet he was a creepy, violent old fuck head with a tendency to feel you up if you didn't wriggle away quickly enough. Ooh he loved a good tickle did my Grandad. I don't care, I forgave him years ago for feeling up my barely formed right breast as he shared a bible passage with me during my 11th year of life. Gave it a good old massage. He liked little breasts. Preferred them to grown ones I do believe. He had also done similar things, and worse, to both of my aunts. Perhaps my mum escaped such attentions due to the large size of her bosoms? It's all speculation now of course. Imagine asking him directly. "Grandad, before you die, I just wondered ..."
Pat was describing how great my step Granddad was with children. Ha! Yes indeed, you could definitely say he had a way with them, that's for sure. Adults thought we were squealing in delight as we ran screaming from him. I was screaming with genuine anxiety. I knew what sex was, and that was the vibe I got.
I looked over at my Aunt during some prayer in which Pat said "none of us are perfect". She was also open-eyed. I winked at her. I'm not usually a winker, but this occasion seemed to call for it. Dirty old Granddad was quite the winker. We smiled at each other. My Aunt is a fiery one. She's the sort that will just tell you to shut the fuck up if she feels the need to. I used to be really freaked out by that, but I'm not anymore. I'd tell her to fuck up too if that happened now. And then we'd hug. Maybe not right away, but we would.
Later she said that if I hadn't winked, and if the dogs hadn't come when they did, then she was about to speak up and say what she really thought about stinky old Granddad. We were behaving for my Uncle's sake, and for the sake of Pat and his wife. Did Pat and Pattette realise that when this 'wonderful man' tickled their three year old son so much that he wet himself (a fun story they related at the graveside) that the poor kid was probably being molested when they weren't looking? Who wants to be tickled till they wet themselves? I didn't laugh. Oh how he loved children. Should really be on his little metal engraving.
The dogs came and saved the day. This other family were attending to their graves and their two amazing weird dogs ran over to explore. I called them over, and one in particular was ridiculously cute. It was a developmentally impaired bull dog. The owner ran over apologising as this amazing beast lay down on the grass by us and sort of spread eagled it's body flat to the ground. It truly looked like a stoned bull frog.We all were laughing and getting some much needed relief from all the Death, and the girl said "aw sorry, he's a bit retarded, he was the runt of the litter." I took a photo and then realised I'd left my memory card in the computer.
What was great about the graveside visit was describing Robert and Nanna. Sure, ole Granddad was a nasty bit of work, but Nanna loved him and I love Nanna. I only got to know her since Granddad died ... I think that was about 7 years or so ago. Robert was 13 (he'd be 44 going on 45 now!), but it was still good to acknowledge what I remembered of him. He was kind. He had lovely brown eyes.
Nanna had a blokey sense of humour, she was sharp tongued and musically gifted. She was cute. She was hard. She was coy. She was learning to paint in oils. She never gave up on love, deciding she would quite like to get married for a third time should a nice man come along.
I love how people can be so very many things. Whatever is going on for you, don't stop. It's only too late when you're dead, and once your dead, you're back into the Big Endless Love and will more than likely be recycled into a new life. You won't remember it, so just focus on this one for now.
The best parts of the Whangamata weekend were swimming in the sea with my lovely young cousin, and going down to the wharf with mum on the Sunday before heading back to Auckland. My cousin is such an intelligent and sensitive soul, she's adorable.
Oh, and the sun is shining these days. Very happy about that. Bring me the vitamin D!!
xxx
The Toscat is sort of leaning, sitting up next to me as I type. My back hurts, but I don't really mind. I'm exhausted, and that's okay. I'm home. I am where I'm meant to be. I love my new dwelling.
I feel like I'm in a boat because the room is narrow, yet when I look up there's a window that fills the whole end wall (just beyond all the stuff I haven't unpacked). In the morning, the light comes through that window (it sort of looks like another ranch slider until you get closer and see that the windows open outwards). Through that ranch slider like facade you see only native bush and the a few hints of other houses in the far off distance. I can walk around naked, and if someone is willing to get out their binoculars to see it, then they can go for gold.
Much thanks goes to Handsome Rob, the Sexy Ex and Da Mamma for their help in shifting all my marvelous and extraneous crap. Handsome Rob turned up with a trailer and despite having a number of other really important things going on in his life, still chose to spend hours helping me. I couldn't help but think about friendships once again, how someone can be in your life in 1992, and then shit, here we are in 2012 and it's still easy to connect with this person.
What's going on when you have a friend for many years and you didn't recognise that they were a narcissistic, passive aggressive, self loathing A- hole ... and yet there are other friends you haven't been in touch with for a million years and then they glide back into your life so sweetly and kindly? Is that a sign that I am standing up for myself finally? That I'm not willing to be quite so understanding (ie; doormat?). I guess you can be understanding to a point, but if that point means taking abuse (even quiet abuse, the kind that with holds love as punishment), then the point has been lost.
Here's to the discovery of points. Ha, I'm not even making sense anymore, I'm so tired.
Jobbie:
Teaching today was a bit ramshackle, and I haven't got a lesson plan for tomorrow. I'll get up early and do it, I'm just fried right now. I don't have enough hours, but I'm really excited about what I can do to help these women improve their English skills and build up their confidence. I just hope they don't bring their children tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I love children, of course I do. I'm brilliant with them. But not when I'm trying to teach English to adults. Kind of hard when the mother whips out her breast and keeps feeding the demanding little beast during her English proficiency test. Another woman had this super ADHD child who was completely jacked up on sugar. The only way to shut him up was to draw pictures for him. I whispered to him as I drew, which he fortunately copied. I quite liked him when he whispered. He seemed less like the spawn of satan that way.
Oh, I'm not pregnant either, phew! I wouldn't mind popping one out if I had a consistent and committed partner etc, but it wouldn't be easy to do it in the current circumstances! Ha! Imagine that blog entry. I did wonder what on earth I'd do, and had decided I'd have managed fine, and that of course it would have been a very cute and well loved sproglet. Shit. It would have had the biggest eyes and lips ever!
The night away in Whangmata to get Nanna's ashes buried in with Robert's was really good. A number of rellies couldn't come or didn't want to, so it ended up being really intimate which was brilliant. This man we'll call Pat presided over the burial. He and his wife had known Nanna and my Step Grandad (he also got re-buried on the same day) for about 35 years.
It was kind of funny, because Pat talked about my Step Granddad like he was the most awesome man in the world, yet he was a creepy, violent old fuck head with a tendency to feel you up if you didn't wriggle away quickly enough. Ooh he loved a good tickle did my Grandad. I don't care, I forgave him years ago for feeling up my barely formed right breast as he shared a bible passage with me during my 11th year of life. Gave it a good old massage. He liked little breasts. Preferred them to grown ones I do believe. He had also done similar things, and worse, to both of my aunts. Perhaps my mum escaped such attentions due to the large size of her bosoms? It's all speculation now of course. Imagine asking him directly. "Grandad, before you die, I just wondered ..."
Pat was describing how great my step Granddad was with children. Ha! Yes indeed, you could definitely say he had a way with them, that's for sure. Adults thought we were squealing in delight as we ran screaming from him. I was screaming with genuine anxiety. I knew what sex was, and that was the vibe I got.
I looked over at my Aunt during some prayer in which Pat said "none of us are perfect". She was also open-eyed. I winked at her. I'm not usually a winker, but this occasion seemed to call for it. Dirty old Granddad was quite the winker. We smiled at each other. My Aunt is a fiery one. She's the sort that will just tell you to shut the fuck up if she feels the need to. I used to be really freaked out by that, but I'm not anymore. I'd tell her to fuck up too if that happened now. And then we'd hug. Maybe not right away, but we would.
Later she said that if I hadn't winked, and if the dogs hadn't come when they did, then she was about to speak up and say what she really thought about stinky old Granddad. We were behaving for my Uncle's sake, and for the sake of Pat and his wife. Did Pat and Pattette realise that when this 'wonderful man' tickled their three year old son so much that he wet himself (a fun story they related at the graveside) that the poor kid was probably being molested when they weren't looking? Who wants to be tickled till they wet themselves? I didn't laugh. Oh how he loved children. Should really be on his little metal engraving.
The dogs came and saved the day. This other family were attending to their graves and their two amazing weird dogs ran over to explore. I called them over, and one in particular was ridiculously cute. It was a developmentally impaired bull dog. The owner ran over apologising as this amazing beast lay down on the grass by us and sort of spread eagled it's body flat to the ground. It truly looked like a stoned bull frog.We all were laughing and getting some much needed relief from all the Death, and the girl said "aw sorry, he's a bit retarded, he was the runt of the litter." I took a photo and then realised I'd left my memory card in the computer.
What was great about the graveside visit was describing Robert and Nanna. Sure, ole Granddad was a nasty bit of work, but Nanna loved him and I love Nanna. I only got to know her since Granddad died ... I think that was about 7 years or so ago. Robert was 13 (he'd be 44 going on 45 now!), but it was still good to acknowledge what I remembered of him. He was kind. He had lovely brown eyes.
Nanna had a blokey sense of humour, she was sharp tongued and musically gifted. She was cute. She was hard. She was coy. She was learning to paint in oils. She never gave up on love, deciding she would quite like to get married for a third time should a nice man come along.
I love how people can be so very many things. Whatever is going on for you, don't stop. It's only too late when you're dead, and once your dead, you're back into the Big Endless Love and will more than likely be recycled into a new life. You won't remember it, so just focus on this one for now.
The best parts of the Whangamata weekend were swimming in the sea with my lovely young cousin, and going down to the wharf with mum on the Sunday before heading back to Auckland. My cousin is such an intelligent and sensitive soul, she's adorable.
Oh, and the sun is shining these days. Very happy about that. Bring me the vitamin D!!
xxx
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