Ian - may I present one Scottish grass-skirt-and-coconut-shell-clad lassie for your viewing pleasure.
Please excuse the white knickers, not part of the standard outfit but then looking at the sparse skirt perhaps a blessing she still had them on!! Or maybe not!!
And I'll have you know this cost me a bottle of dry white hastily consumed in the room - glass still in hand in the first pic.... and looking decidedly non-hulaish in that one!!
It's 5am and I haven't slept. Which makes a grand total of six hours' sleep over the past three days (two hours on the plane, four last night, zero tonight).
Jet lag - worst I've ever had, not sure if I'm Arthur or Martha
Angst - some things said by my mother
Heartache - if loving him is wrong, I don't want to be right
Starbucks - I have to wait until 7am but they are going to chalk up a venti soy latte with, well I think I might have to make it an eight-shot
I feel numb and no it wasn't mass consumption of mooncakes, I had only a half of one and it was a three-yolker so it didn't leave much room for the lotus paste!
Update:
Me to Starbucks barista: Good morning, one venti skim latte (decided against soy) with four extra shots, extra hot and no foam please.
Silence...I smile at her
Starbucks barista to me: Four extra shots?
Me: Yes, please
Barista: One two three four?
Me: Yes, one two three four
Barista: In one venti latte
Me: Yes, thank you
Barista: Wow I've never made it like that before, that's really strong, it already has three shots
Me: I might be back in an hour for another one
Barista: (Wide-eyed and with a smile appearing)...I can give you a bag of beans to chew on
Me: I'll take one to go!!
I love a sense of humour in the morning!!!!!!
As per Wikipedia: Mooncake 月餅 is a Chinese confection that is traditionally eaten during the Mid-Autumn Festival, although they can be eaten at other times of the year as well. Typical mooncakes are either round or rectangular puck-shaped pastries, measuring about 10 cm in diameter and 4-5 cm thick. They have a relatively thin crust (2-3 mm), which surrounds a thick pasty filling and may contain yolks from salted duck eggs. Mooncakes are typically rich, heavy, and dense compared with most Western cakes and pastries. It is usually eaten in small wedges accompanied by Chinese tea.
While I was away, we celebrated the Mid-Autumn Festival here. Part of that is the consumption of vast numbers of mooncakes. I have something of a penchant for these delectable little pieces of scrumptiousness (yes, I know that's not a real word, but it should be!!). So, I asked that someone get me one as they have a very short shelf-life and once the festival is over, so is the supply of mooncakes.
I arrived back to not one mooncake! Nope, not one.... but SIX full-size and two minis. I personally am not keen on the eggs and tend to dig them out, but it doesn't do much on the calorie front as the egg's role is really to be a relief from heavy sweet lotus paste. "Usually eaten in small wedges"? A small wedge would never be enough for me. But I need to remember that one mooncake has reportedly close to 1,000 calories in it.
So I'll be sure to drink lots of Chinese tea!!
Apart from that I'm totally wiped out with jet-lag, too many time-zones in too few days. But I shall revive myself and get to work sorting out my pics into those that are not too blurry or dark (Rhona had major problems with her camera, it's a new one and she's not worked out the flash rules and so on).
I've a few tales to tell, memories to recount, snippets of my last two weeks to write about. And some affairs of the heart, too.
Well, streets and bridges to be precise. I got into London last night and after a few hours' sleep, and with it being a relatively warm and clear Sunday, I took a walk along the riverbank (north) then crossed over this bridge (The Millenium Bridge)
walked along the southbank and crossed back over this bridge (Westminster Bridge)
I've quite knackered myself out as the saying goes! Sitting here drinking a bottle of Marks & Spencers freshly squeezed lemons....soooooooooooo good!!! Next I'll be doing my London postcards so be ready all of you on my list.
Will be home on Tuesday and then sort out the photos, of which there are many and not all of them good. I did get Rhona into a grass skirt Ian, get yourself ready for that one.
Gosh I'll be glad to get home. I've missed you all.
I promised pics and posts and I've done neither...sis and I are having a blast though!!! We have been out and about and enjoying so much. I'll post about it in a few days if things quiet down any!!!
Ian - I'm still trying the grass skirt thing, something has made sis a little shy but here are a few pics :
The view from the hotel balcony - that's the first day, it was a little cloudy but it has been sunny ever since!!
Sis and I riding the local bus to the north coast...to see the surfer dudes but unfortunately a weekday and small waves...not too many were about!!!
( updated - hahahahahahaha I realised that probably most of you won't know who is who - that's me on the left, with the sunkissed face :) )
Aloha and running out to do something else!!!!!!!!!!
If I break into Japanese it`s because this damn keyboard has some hidden keys I tell you!!! Like the apostrophe is hidden somewhere and i`m having to use that reverse one.
Just waiting to board another plane like the one in the pic. Bless Yahoo for providing free unlimited internet access even though everything is in Japanese and there is nowhere to turn it into English so all the instructions even here on blogger are in Japanese, thank goodness I remember where everything is.
Beautiful departure from Hong Kong, the weather was lovely and we took the route right over the city, I waved to the office and passed over the apartment. Stupid me though didn`t take her camera out of her ONE handcarry item but I shall for the approach into Hawaii. Here it`s awful, grey wet, yukky. Am glad I`m only passing through!!!
Whiled away the four hours on the plane by watching two movies...or rather one and almost three-quarters of a movie...now I have to find Basic Instincts 2 to watch the final 20 mins. Actually upon reflection I may not bother.....dear oh dear Sharon you should have opted out of the sequel darling!! RV did have some very funny parts. I think I was annoying the person next to me with my chuckles and guffaws.
Soon onto another plane for 7-plus hours, I have a book, no doubt more movies and maybe a sleep. This time zone thing is too weird. I actually will arrive there before I left Hong Kong, basically I get to do my Tuesday twice. Once in the air and at airports, then once in paradise. Guess which one I really am looking forward to.
I think I might go and write some postcards and see if I can find a mailbox. But if you get them from Hawaii you`ll know why.
So now it`s .... sayonara from Tokyo. Next post will be aloha from Hawaii.
P.S. I didn`t mistype "konnichiwa", when you write it, it is konnichiHa. I learned that today.
Update:
Now THIS is what I'm tawkin bout:
I'm down to 24 hours now and my last day at work. I see a big pile here, however I am already in the 'gone' mood and just can't seem to get worked up about it. Plus I work so well against very tight deadlines, so I can see myself chilling this morning and then working like a demon until 9 tonight!!
I'm about ready, purchased all the last-minute little bits n pieces, travel size toothpaste, travel size shampoo, travel size conditioner, extra-large sunscreen (that sounds like a protection garment when I put it like that!!), etc., etc., etc. I hate the baggage rules into and out of Europe and Asia, 20 kgs (44 lbs) total, while I can take two pieces into and out of the States and each of those can be up to 32kgs (50 lbs). IATA please explain yourself. And packing for two climates isn't going to be easy - tshirts and sweaters, flip-flops and boots. And it's not like sis and I can share, she's got a model's figure and I, well I haven't!
She's had a bad sinus infection so I asked if she's been to the doctor. I got this reply:
no time to go to the docs fion!!!.....i just hope it will clear.......am taking rhino blast at the mo which is pretty powerful but it aint shifting.......feel like me face is gonna explode........and so much to do......get me minge waxed.......load up on dog bikky.....get keys cut.....clean the flat and do loadsa washing.........ahhhhhhhh
As you can see, at the top of it is 'get me minge waxed'. Yes at the very top!! The woman has a serious sinus infection. Bad news for a) flying and b) as a professional diver she hasn't been able to work for a week thus depleting her holiday funds. But hey let's make sure the minge is waxed. She now says she'll try and get to the doctor before her 11am flight to London. Oh dear, she really does crack me up.
By the way my minge is travelling unwaxed.
Update: Lunch today, California Rolls
'Scuse the terrible scrawl. As you can see, there's still room on my list so please yell out if there's anything Hawaiian or Scottish you'd like. I promise not to stalk you if you give me your address - I'm too far from anyone to do that anyway!!!
The plan is to photoblog while I'm away and as she's a dab hand with the camera, I'm sure my sister will make a fair contribution to the visuals (no LePhare, not due to her being in a grass skirt and coconuts...well OK OK that WOULD be quite a contribution!!)
Only four days to go until aloha och aye.
Today, I understood something in such a different way, thanks to my dear friend Chele.
We were emailing a little about relationships and the like and Chele was in my life when, earlier this year, I lost someone so dear, so precious to me. Someone I loved. Today she said to me:
"There is a purpose for everything under the sun..we may not know what they are..but they have a reason and someday we will understand why..what happened to you was terribly sad and heartbreaking but for some reason James was put in your path..or maybe..Fiona.. YOU were put in his..to make his last time here..the best it could be..so that he could leave this world knowing real love. Thats what I think."
James and I had been friends for the longest time, online friends, telephone chat friends, for about five years when things changed between us. I'd just extricated myself from a two-year relationship and he was in the throes of making his own changes. Over the space of about six months we grew closer and closer together, we made plans for our future. In February, I travelled to Canada to spend some time with him. We were going to be together in June.
A month later he was in hospital for bypass surgery. It was supposed to be routine, well as routine as that can ever be. Over the phone, he comforted me, assured me there was nothing to worry about, after all we had so much to look forward to. "Just a little bump in the road", he would say to me.
I spoke to him only hours before he was to go into surgery. There I am in tears and he's making me smile. Describing to me, the beautiful view from the hospital window, of the mountains around Vancouver, of the water. Making me laugh with stories about his ward-mates, and telling me about the kindnesses of his nurses and doctors. That is just how James was, a wonderful, caring, warm, sensitive, beautiful man.
He came out of surgery into post-op care and the next day he coded. They revived him, he coded again and they got him back again. But not a third time. He was gone. Gone forever, gone from my then and gone from my future. Just suddenly gone. At 45. I never even got to hear his voice again. How I grieved for him, how I ached at the loss. How I cursed the gods for taking him from me. I was numb so deep inside.
And all this time I've been thinking, he was taken from me. But what Chele pointed out to me today is this. Maybe he wasn't taken from me, perhaps it was I who was given to him when he needed me. And because of that, it all seems so different. I can smile when I think of him now, not weep as much.
James wasn't taken from me when I needed him most, I was given to him when he needed me most. I was there in his life because he needed to know love, real love, before he left us. And I was there to give him that love and to let him feel loved.
Suddenly it all makes sense. Because for all these months I've been thinking of it as so totally senseless that I lost him. And now, instead, I understand why he found me.
Thank you Chele.
Update: where I spoke of James first.
Also known as Scottish Highland Cattle. But in the lingo they are 'hairy coos' and it must be said with the requisite Scottish burr!!
And if you ever thought that English is spoken in Scotland, check this out - I need an interpreter when I'm there.
As I have grown personally, I have found over the years that my ability to love has changed. As has my reason to love. I don't love based on availability, nor the love being returned. I love from my heart and soul when it feels right, not when it fits the parameters of a love that can be.
It's not always neat and tidy and pretty. Loving someone can be rough and ragged, with torn edges and wounds to heal elsewhere. It can cause as much hurt as it brings joy. Not everyone wins when two people grow in love together. And love doesn't always win. Sometimes obligation does. But, and I know this for a fact, obligation doesn't complete a person. Loving and being loved do.
We don't choose who we love, love happens to us. I have never targetted someone to love, I have just grown in love. The sad part is that for almost all of the men I've loved, there in the back of their minds was someone else they would rather have been with. I endured lovemaking always in the dark, I have been called someone else's name right at the moment it was really the last thing I wanted to hear. There is nothing more vile, more soul-destroying, than realising the man making love to you isn't making love to you at all. I have, I'm ashamed to say, found my way into the email account of a man I was involved with, to get the proof he was playing with me while still declaring his love for his ex-wife. He kept lying to me and I needed the truth. Another time, I convinced myself that a man loved me enough to make changes in his life, which in truth I knew he never would.
These have all been learning experiences for me, relationships that have helped make me grow and in so many ways, helped me respect myself a little more with each lost 'love'. I am glad that I've been strong enough to walk from the relationships that were damaging me, as well as the ones that didn't enrich me. I have been a bridge for some men to find bigger happiness elsewhere, and they, too, have sometimes been a bridge for me to a better awareness of what I am and wish to be.
I am walking into the future full of hope, full of conviction that there is a man out there who will not only love me for who I am, but adore me for what I am not, yet. I already know his name and he knows mine.
When Doors Open
When a door opens, walk through it. Trust that the door has opened for a reason and you have been guided to it. Sometimes we have a tendency to overanalyze or agonize over the decision, but it is quicker to simply go through the door and discover what's there as that's the only way to know. Even if it doesn't seem right at first, opening this door may lead to another door that will take us where we need to go.
Doors open when the time is right for us to enter a new space, metaphorically speaking, and we can have faith that walking through is the right thing to do. Sometimes we linger in the threshold because we are afraid of leaving our old life for a life we know nothing about. We may have voices inside of our heads that try to hold us back or people in our lives saying discouraging things. These voices, internal and external, are known as threshold spirits, and they express all the fears and doubts that arise at the beginning of a new life. Nevertheless, none of these voices can hold us back, and they will fall silent as soon as we cross the threshold.
There are many doors that open in the course of our lives, leading us into new relationships, jobs, friendships, and creative inspirations. Our lives up to this point are the result of all the doors we have walked through, and our continued growth depends on our willingness to keep moving into new spaces. Every time we walk through an open door, we create a sense memory that encourages us to move into the new fearlessly. When we enter the new space, we almost always feel a thrill and a new feeling of confidence, in ourselves and in the universe. We have stepped across the threshold into a new life.
Yes, I have had some thresholds I gladly, and sometimes madly, stepped over. Sometimes to find they didn't hold the promise I thought they would. But I do believe that each led to another, then another. And that all my thresholds have a purpose in my life. Even if I didn't recognise that purpose at the time.
I am still on my journey of where I need to go and where I am meant to be.
I'm a very tactile person. I like to touch in all ways. To reassure, to emphasise, to comfort, to bridge a gap. And most of all to show affection from my heart to the person I love. I crave the warmth of another body pressed into mine. I want to kiss and be kissed without boundaries.
I've never been involved with a tactile person. I suppose the closest I got was my ex-husband and he loved to touch, for an audience, but not when we were alone together. And he had HUGE intimacy issues, which led to the demise of our relationship.
The last guy I was involved with told me he loved to snuggle and kiss. And lo and behold I found that to be a total untruth. To the point I felt I was smothering him because when you do touch and caress and hug and snuggle and kiss, with a reluctant partner, that's how you feel. I was being me and expected from him what he'd told me and instead I ended up feeling so bad for being so tactile. So I did what one does, I adapted to his level of intimacy which was almost non-existant. I tried to make it work, despite these differences, for two years but had to admit defeat in the end. I want to be with someone who fires my soul, who drives my passion to an even higher level and all I got was, well, routine and structure and frankly so little excitement I couldn't even bring myself to want what little was offered.
We split up, mutually agreeing it was best, but he quickly decided he had lost something good and I'm not going to disagree with that! But I still need the man who will fire my soul, drive my passion and, quite honestly, leave me in a puddle on the floor. He will never do that for me. But he insists he is a changed person, he insists he knows he needs to be more tactile, to hold me, to kiss me, to cuddle with me. I listen and I really do appreciate he wants to try. But I don't want someone who has to TRY to love me and show his love for me.
I want someone who knows he loves me, who touches me and wants more, that even touching isn't enough to satiate his desires. I want a man who will possess me and let me possess him. I want a man to intertwine my heart and soul and mind and body with. I want a man who touches me no matter where we are, who will pull me to him and hold me as though the world is about to end. A man who can't get enough of me and who breathes fire through his nostrils with a need for me. I want a man with a heart and soul open to mine and god, my god, I want to be touched in every way possible. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually.
I think I just met him.
"k den yo sistah we gonna grind and talk story and lesgo get us some mo bettah mokes and brok da mout grinds - don't you be giving me dat stink eye - ass right"
Meaning...ok Fiona, we'll eat and chat and let us go and find some better large local tough guys and eat delicious food - don't you look at me with a mean look - that's right.
I kid you not, a moke is a 'large local tough guy'. If nothing else, I'm sure she'll sweet talk some mokes into having their picture taken with us.
People...save me from my sister, she's already talking in the local lingo!!!! And she not only wants an aloha shirt, she wants the grass skirt and coconut shells too!!!!
OK anyone wanting a postcard from Hawaii and Scotland, email me your postal address.
Today is dedicated to 9/11...September 11....gau yaht yaht (as it is referred to here)
In memory of those who perished, those who lost loved ones, those who found it too hard to go on afterwards.
And..to Bill, wherever you are. My thoughts, and my heart, are with you today.
updated at 4pm with photo essay
In getting to know me, someone is asking questions that are peeling back my rings. It really is amazing how we add on those rings from each 'spring' of our lives. And how it takes looking back to realise the way they were added. And what consitutes a ring.
I'd love to be able to take a section through my soul and examine the rings like we do with a tree. Analysing them to determine a rapid growth period, versus a slow one. Would life's tribulations appear as impact scars as they do on a tree?
In architecture, a keystone is the stone at the top of an arch. It is the supporting element for the entire arch — without it the arch would collapse.
How many of us become the keystone in our relationships. Being the one thing that holds it all together. Sometimes enduring great sacrifice by having to take up that role, that all-important load-bearing role.
I suppose some of us would revel in that responsibility, that feeling of being indispensable. Some of us may even seek out that type of not-so-symbiotic relationship. I've been the keystone once and I really wouldn't like to be it again. I want a relationship where we share the importance of being the keystone. Yes, sometimes I will need to take on primary responsibility for keeping the arch intact. And sometimes I may need him to be the keystone in the whole thing.
But most of all, I want the joy of knowing that together we can hold this magnificent structure, this beautiful arch of our making, up together.
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn...
~ Veronica A. Shoffstall ~
Well, it's done. Flights are booked for me approaching Honolulu from Hong Kong and my sister approaching it from Tenerife via London. That was QUITE the marathon. After deliberating about flying with her from London, I dropped that idea very quickly when I discovered I'd be flying (never mind ground time) for over 32 hours, to basically get somewhere that is about 10 hours from me!!
So we'll be meeting up in Honolulu rather than London. But then we'll fly back to London together and up to Edinburgh (then the train down to Berwick-upon-Tweed and by car back across the border into Scotland) to spend some time with our mum. We'll have 5 nights in Honolulu, 5 nights in Scotland and 2 nights in London. And various nights on an assortment of aircraft!
I can't deny that there is some guilt involved, she and I will be off holidaying together and spending time having fun, when those extra days could be spent with our mum. However, I think we both need and deserve a holiday too (knowing time in Scotland is never easy time) and we haven't been away together for over 20 years.
My sis works hard, earns next to nothing and takes care of the most precious things in my life - my dog and two cats. She has done that for the last five and a half years and in exchange I give her my apartment to live in. Even then, though, times are hard in her chosen profession. She works as a divemaster in the dive centre I set up and then sold, Aqua-Marina. So Hawaii is a little gift and to say she's stoked is an understatement, she's already learning the local lingo!! Expect photos, she's a natural with a camera.
What I'm not looking forward to is all the planes I'll be on:
Hong Kong to Tokyo
Tokyo to Honolulu
Honolulu to Denver
Denver to Chicago
Chicago to London
London to Edinburgh
Edinburgh to London
London to Hong Kong
And because of the fact it's cheaper to buy a round trip than a one-way ticket, I'm holding Hong Kong to London and London to San Francisco sectors which I can't use on this trip. Methinks another trip will be up my sleeve before too long!
From Aloha
To Och Aye
By everythingness and nothingness.
Work is overloading me that's for sure. And it doesn't look like it will improve anytime soon. I have vacation time coming up and that always stresses me into worrying how things will be done before I go, and then worrying me that I'll be away when something needs to be done. About 10 days ago I was at melting point. I was at a place where it felt like it was tumbling down around me and I didn't know how to deal with it. But I've managed to shore it up again. It took me an hour on Friday night (after pulling a 15-hour day) to just get things sorted into folders from the pile that had erupted on my desk that day.
My heart feels pulled in every which direction. People have come into my life. Then left it. Then want back in. Why didn't they just stay in the first place? Am I a 'filler' yet again when things go wrong for them? I ask myself why do they keep coming back and sniffing at the door. For some I know why and it has nothing to do with the heart, more to do with basic financial needs being met. And I will not be anyone's bank account - not again anyway. And then there is a newness about some feelings and they, too, scare me a little. Why can't I just relax and let what will be, just be.
I spoke with my mother the other day and her voice is getting worse (she has a cancerous growth next to her vocal chords) and I fear for her. In ways I didn't fear for my dad, maybe because she will never let us in. At least he did, he let us feel his pain and his fear, he let us 'participate'. How awful to want to participate in a parent's death but it really did help knowing every step of the way what was happening and how he was feeling and what he needed from us.
And you know there is nothing that I shouldn't be able to handle, nothing that I can't handle. So why this feeling? Over the weekend I felt dizzy, and yet not dizzy, just off balance, physically. Like I was toppling over. Almost a feeling of being hung over. And as I don't drink, it certainly isn't due to that. I feel I've been pushed off my axis. I'm discombobulated. And plain overwhelmed when I should be able to cope.
Too much everythingness and in reality it's nothingness.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
~ Pablo Neruda ~
100 Love Sonnets (Sonnet XVII)
Probably my favourite poem of all time. If it sounds familiar, you may be recalling it as the poem Robin Williams' character reads to his wife in the movie "Patch Adams".
Gone. Finished. Over.
I'm tired of walking on eggshells, tired of being made to feel bad for making a reasonable request. 26 weeks of intense bonding thrown away in five minutes for refusing to compare something about him that I haven't even experienced, with someone I had realtime three years ago?
Why on earth would someone a) ask me what I will see in his eyes when we make love, when I haven't even seen his eyes in a picture and b) want to compare himself to someone I stopped seeing over three years ago? And c) when I refuse to even try to do that, he cites that as grounds for throwing me away?
Even if he somehow manages to redeem himself, an important part of us is broken. Irreparable.
Such a damn waste of a possible future.
An oldie but a goodie - I just love this poem!
My mother's mother was not a nice person. She lived with us for several years when I was a child and in that time alienated her grandchildren from each other by pitting them against each other for her 'favours'. I didn't see it then but she was a masterful manipulator. She came between my parents many times and pushed her own personal issues between them. My mother once told me that when she became pregnant with me, her second child, her mother accused my father of being a pig and that he was using my mother for sex. I suppose this is a value of the generation she belonged to, one mired in the 'sex is dirty' thinking.
My mother is dying of cancer. I love her as my mother but I don't feel the connection with her I wish I did. My sister has the hardest time with not having been loved and nurtured. My dad was away at sea for much of our childhood and when he finally did come home to be with us, I suppose we had by then found ways of coping within a family where love was never expressed, let alone acknowledged. Being the baby of the family my sister was spoiled by my brother and I and perhaps we did her a disservice by doing that, by not letting her toughen up like we have. She has continued into her 40s to have emotional problems and while we are, I believe as adults, responsible for ourselves and our lives, she is fragile.
My father told me he loved me for the first time in 2000. I'll never forget the moment he said "Fiona, I love you and I hope I've been a good father to you". My mother never has, I tell her I love her and the best she can do is "love you too". It's so different from I...LOVE...YOU. She's never taken an interest in my life or my relationships and when the man I loved died recently, her comment was "You don't have much luck with men do you" and moved on to telling me something about one of her neighbours. I understand that for her she's uncomfortable and unable to express, and I do realise that a lot of this has come from her own upbringing. But each of us can break that chain. Each of us can say I will not be like my mother/father. I've never had the joy of being a mother but I do know, I would not have been like my mother.
Nana, I wish you had given your daughter more love in her life because if you had, maybe she'd have given us more too. Maybe, just maybe, before we lose her forever, my mother will say to my sister and I
" I LOVE YOU "
A the drop of a hat these days. I don't know why.
I feel my eyes filling and then the salty fluid toppling over the edge of my lower lids, leaving big fat hot tears to run down my face. I'm not crying or sobbing, just weeping. No sounds, no gasps, no drawing of breath. Just the tears.
Something is spilling over from inside me and I haven't figured out what it is yet. It doesn't take long for them to start either. And it doesn't seem to matter where I am.
I wonder if they are helping. Am I releasing something that needs to be released? Or am I simply a wimp?
There is a part of me inside that aches and yearns and needs. But I don't know what I'm aching for, or yearning after, or needing so much.
Perhaps a life not yet lived. A love not yet shared. A meaning not yet found.
From Sunny's blog *S*
1. My roommate and I once: This is strange, I know, but I've never had a roommate - I moved from living with my parents into my own place.
2. Never in my life have I: Learned to drive.
3. The one person who can drive me nuts, but then can always manage to make me smile is: My online luhvuh.
4. High school was: A waste of my time. I should have taken it more seriously. When I finally did I had to work my ass off.
5. When I'm nervous: I pick at my fingernails and cuticles.
6. The last time I cried was: About a week ago.
7. If I were to get married right now, my bridesmaids/groomsmen would be: Non-existant. I'd not want anything that formal.
8. Would you rather run naked through a crowded place or have someone e-mail your deepest secret to all your friends? Me naked. Oh no. What secrets do you want to hear?
9. My hair: Used to be so pretty. Now there's not enough of it to matter too much one way or the other.
10. When I was 5 : My baby sister was born.
11. Last Christmas: I don't 'do' Christmas.
12. When I turn my head left: I am looking out of my office window and it's raining....again!
13. I should be: Working on the budget for 2007 but I can't seem to get into the right mood for it.
14. When I look down I see: My black stocking-clad feet out of my heels. Shhhhh don't tell anyone.
15. The craziest recent event was: Being with my family just after my dad passed away (see 20).
16. If I were a character on "Friends" I'd be: Who's that dude in the coffee place? I don't know why but I just so relate to him!
17. By this time next year: Please let me be having sex again!
18. My favorite aunt is: In Edinburgh - actually she's the only aunt that I know.
19. I have a hard time understanding: Vanity and narcissism based on lucky genes.
20. One time at a family gathering: My family doesn't gather. We've been spread too far and wide for too long.
21. You know I like you if: I tell you that I do. And trust me if I don't like you I'll either make it pretty clear or just not hang around you.
22. If I won an award, the first person (people) I'd thank: An award? Me? Good grief what on earth for?
23. Take my advice: What goes round comes round. Don't ever think it doesn't.
24. My ideal breakfast is: Poached eggs on toast or hotcakes with honey.
25. If you visit my home town: You will be amazed at the pace and 'busyness' of it all.
26. Sometime soon I plan to visit: Hawaii, with my sister. Aloha!
27. If you spend the night at my house: We'll order in pizza and watch DVDs.
28. I'd stop my wedding if: Hell I wish I had stopped my wedding! <--- ditto Sunny!!
29. The world could do without: Warmongering, hatred, intolerance, evil people who harm children.
30. I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: I would NEVER lick the belly of a cockroach....those things seriously freak me out.
31. The most recent thing I've bought myself is: A whole bunch of TV series on DVD
32. The most recent thing someone else bought for me is: Ice Breakers Sours and they are GOOD - thank you Chele!
33. My favorite blonde is: My sister is sort of blonde - she's in the sun all the time and is sunbleached. Strawberry blonde - Sunny.
34. My favorite brunette is: My bestest friend in the whole wide world. My chosen sister.
35. My car must have a sign on it that reads: If I had a car it wouldn't matter, it would be parked and never move (see 2) .
36. The last time I was drunk: An awfully long time ago - almost six years ago.
37. The animals I would like to see flying besides birds: Horses - there's just something about Pegasus that is so beautiful.
38. I shouldn't have been: So generous to those who didn't deserve it.
39. Have you ever shaved your pubic hair? I have yes.
40. Last night I: Had a really good chat with my online luhvuh.
41. There's this girl I know who: Deserves to have that next baby and I hope with every fibre of my being that it happens for her.
42. I don't know: Why he won't let me hear his voice. One day though, one day....
43. A better name for me would be: I can't imagine me as anything but Fiona.
44. If I ever go back to school I'll: Study psychology.
45. How many days until my birthday?: 87
46. One dead celebrity I wish I'd met is: Sylvia Plath
47. I've lived at my current address since: 2001
48. I've been told I look like: My maternal grandmother but I never saw her.
49. If I could have any car, it would be: I saw this wonderful Lexus convertible once and it was just the sexiest thing!
50. If I got a new cat tomorrow, I would name it: I couldn't get a new cat, I have two who would never forgive me because they don't get to live with me. It would feel wrong.
But as she has grown, her smile has widened with a touch of fear and her glance has taken on depth. Now she is aware of some of the losses you incur by being here - the extraordinary rent you have to pay as long as you stay.
I figured it was time to put my name on here as I have used it when commenting elsewhere...so hello, I'm Fiona.
Though I do love that name 'Acushla', from the Irish oh+cuisle, pulse of the heart, or shortened form of 'cushlamochree' and used to also convey the word darling.
On the 13th of September 2001, I flew to Tenerife via London. That required me to spend a few hours on the ground at Gatwick airport. Yes, I flew just two days after 9/11.
The plane itself out of Hong Kong was almost empty and the security procedures were extremely rigorous. Even with a plane at best only one-quarter full, it took over an hour for the secondary check right before boarding (subsequent to the first security check to get into the departures area). Computers had to be turned on and booted up, containers of liquids had to be opened and tasted in front of the security team, every little thing was examined, all sharp objects removed, including eyebrow tweezers.
The whole trip was, I'll admit, an eerie experience to say the least. As I sat there listening to the drone of the engines, my mind kept playing back the images I'd seen only two days before on my tv, images of such death and destruction and incomprehensible carnage that it was difficult to believe it wasn't a dream. A very, very bad dream. I had watched for hours as the story streamed across my screen and, being 12 hours ahead, I stayed up into the early hours of the next morning watching that day in New York unfold. Then the following day at work it was the subject of all discussion. The disbelief, the struggling to try to make sense of the senseless.
So many people told me not to fly but I had to. I had to go on with my life and my plans. I was not going to be pushed into a corner fearing the 'what ifs'. The US was still shut down. People were stranded everywhere. And when I got to Gatwick airport to wait for my connection to Tenerife, I found it crowded with people just trying to get home.
Squeezing myself into a solitary empty seat between an elderly gentleman and the feet of a sleeping child, I developed a morbid fascination as I watched people, wondering which of them was facing a personal tragedy. That's where I met Bill. He was seated on my left in jeans and a plaid shirt, with a NY Yankees cap on his head. I'd asked him if the seat next to him was taken and he smiled and said no. I couldn't escape the look in his eyes though, even through his smile. An emptiness, a fear, his sky blue eyes red-rimmed I thought from lack of sleep.
We started up a conversation and it turned out that his son worked in the WTC and he hadn't been able to contact him. Bill was a widower and William (Bill Junior, he told me with a small smile) his only son. A single man, so no wife to try to contact. I felt helpless and any words I could come up with seemed such platitudes. He told me that his cell phone's battery had long since drained and there were huge queues at all the payphones. I offered him my phone to use and he made some calls. I tried not to listen, to intrude any further than I felt I already had, into his personal tragedy. He seemed to be talking to people a long way away from New York, asking if they had news. He handed me my phone back with thanks and an offer to pay for the calls. I said no, absolutely not. Then as we sat talking they announced they would be holding a three-minute silence and a request that everyone observe it.
When the sound of a bell rang out to mark the start of the silence, Bill bowed his head and his shoulders started to shake. I saw tears roll down his cheeks and fall to the carpet between his feet. I did the only thing I could do, I reached out and took his hand in mine. And he held on so tight as he let his grief take over, for just a moment. From what little I'd come to know of him, he was a strong man who wanted nothing more than to hold onto hope. That day, as I sat holding this man's hand, this father's hand, in the still of an airport that had stopped in its tracks, I felt more than at any other time, the depth of this horrific tragedy that has beset so many.
I still wonder if Bill's son made it. If Bill got home to find him safe. And if Bill still remembers the hand of a stranger in his, when all he needed was another human being to hold onto.
"So much COULD happen...how many let those coulds stop them?"
I found this comment by Sunny on lePhare's blog and it has has had me thinking all afternoon.
I'm not one to let could stop me. In a way, the risk of could is often what makes me want to do it even more. Am I tempting fate by always running head on at my coulds?
Some of my coulds have come true, that's for certain. I could have lost my shirt investing in a business with an ureliable partner. Yes, I could and I did.
And sometimes coulds are good things. I could get hurt by letting myself love him. Yes I could, and maybe I did a little. But I'm so very glad I got to share what I did with him.
Don't ever let the coulds limit the possibilities of your cans and wills and shalls.
I love this place. While somewhat crowded with over 7 million people crammed into 426 square miles, there are still lots of beautiful unspoilt places - after all three-quarters of that 426 square miles is actually parkland!
The city by day
The city by night
The nightly lightshow (for Steve) 
*Apart from the lasers, the buildings actually change colours and display moving light patterns
The old and the new 
oh and the old and the new from my office window
Unspoiled beauty that few visitors get to see
*Not for swimming though, it has a treacherous undertow and people die there almost every year. I almost did!!
Dear God
I asked for a million dollars
a career, a reputation
a marriage
a fine house by the sea
And you gave me restless feet
a life of wandering
the infinite path of myself
I asked to see the rest of the road
and you said watch your feet
I asked for a guru
you gave me a blood-red rose
I asked for freedom
you took away everything I had
I asked for a savior
you said listen to the drumming
in your heart
I asked for a sign
you said here’s a cliff
step off it
I asked for the answer to the mystery
you said sorry, start again
I asked to stop asking
you gave me another question
I asked to be a great spiritual leader
revered by the masses
and you pushed me down in the street
on my face
in front of everybody
I asked for enlightenment
and you rubbed my face in the dark
until I could see nothing
but light
I ask for a new coat
and you give me the wind
I ask to be wise
and you show me
my empty heart
I ask to be loving
and you show me the wall
around my soul
I ask to put an end to suffering
you show me the demon in the mirror
I tell you
I’m in a hurry
and ask where the hell do I
catch the next train
you give me a lizard
sunning its back
I ask for an ordinary life
and you give me the universe
~ Lisa Garrigues ~
Well this isn't the post I intended to write today, that was on disappointing and being disappointed. It will keep for another day.
Today I wanted to refer to an awesome post by Julia on Jul of the Day - I have her link there on my list. If you don't stop by regularly, please do, she is an absolutely incredible writer and wonderful woman, and her photographs are brilliance itself in how she ties them to her posts. True jewels every day.
Emergence. The easy part is coming out of our shell. The hard part is letting it go.
So.....emergence and letting go of our shells. I know I, for one, hang on for dear life to my shell. And it's not even a pretty one. But it's mine and I'm awfully familiar with how it feels. I have peeked out of it a few times and been both energised and scared to death, usually separately but sometimes concurrently. So back into my shell I've gone. Sometimes slowly and sometimes like a snail whose horns have been poked.
There are times I feel like another person when I come out of it, quite literally. I almost act out, roleplay, pretend I'm this other person, not me. And you know she sometimes has a whale of a time. But then, I remember I'm me and back in I slide.
I recently wrote about the world being my oyster and shucking it and swallowing it whole. Another reference to a shell there. I haven't moved forward with my plans yet, I'm still trying to decide where and when. And truth be told I'm secretly hoping that someone I'd like to meet finally agrees to it. But so far he has avoided my very direct questions about it. Why can't I just say, well screw you then, I'm off? Well because a part of me is afraid by doing so he'll say fine, go, don't bother looking for me when you get back, that's the sort of psychological game he plays with me. I know he doesn't mean it, in reality he means the opposite of that, but I'm not ready to risk losing him. And he, it seems, isn't ready to take our five-month relationship to another level even though he professes missing me so terribly if we don't speak (or rather type to each other) for a mere 24 hours.
Why oh why am I so stuck on holding onto my shell? And to the damn limpet* that has attached itself to my oyster?
*Limpet fits best as one of the definitions for it is: "one that clings tenaciously to someone or something". Or maybe in reality, I'm the limpet on his oyster and I'm the one who needs to let go?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And just for Sunny Delight.....*clearing my throat and bursting into song*
Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain
Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain
Oh, the dark days are done
The bright days are here
My sunny one shines so sincere
Sunny one so true
I love you
Sunny, thank you for that sunshine bouquet
Sunny, thank you for the love you brought my way
You gave to me your all and all
Now I feel ten feet tall
Sunny one so true
I love you
Sunny, thank you for the truth you let me see
Sunny, thank you for the facts from a to z
My life was torn like windblown sand
And then a rock was formed when we held hands
Sunny one so true
I love you
Sunny, thank for that smile upon your face
Sunny, thank you for that gleam that flows with grace
You're my spark of natures fire
You're my sweet complete desire
Sunny one so true
I love you
Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain
Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain
The dark days are done
The bright days are here
My sunny one shines so sincere
Sunny one so true
Sunny one so true
Sunny one so true
I love you
Yes I am. Totally!
At the end of last week there was a blogger system upgrade or something. After it was done, it had thrown my formatting out so that everything previously in the sidebar ended up at the bottom of the sidebar instead of being parallel to the first post.
So I dutifully (and bravely let me assure you) tried to fix it but couldn't find the problem. So I figured OK reload again. I did and it's the same. So I changed the template. And again there it is at the bottom.
I tried some other templates and they seemed ok...but I just didn't like any of them so I'm going to leave this one in the hope that someone can advise me. I realise it's probably some small but significant bit of coding in there somewhere (trust me I only cut and paste my links and sitemeter).
Anyone out there able to help a very techie-challenged blogger?
Thankee in advance.
NOTE: Thank you Sunny! The damn thing was annoying me so much I've used another template that looks OK on my browser. It's a little on the GREEN GREEN side but I felt unbalanced as it was!
ANOTHER NOTE: I've added a link to get Daily OM Inspirational Thoughts - try it please, they are lovely!
This is the 'Tamarind', built 20 years ago in Hong Kong, a traditional Bruce Roberts' replica of the famous Joshua Slocum 'Spray' design. Length overall is 44 feet and maximum cruising speed is 8 knots. She is all-wood, with teak decks and hull, and a yakal keel.
My dad decided one day he wanted to sail around the world when he retired, and once he decided that, he had his heart set on building a traditional wooden yacht. He did that from full-scale plans and she was built on a plot of land next to where we lived. She has an incredible attention to detail, from brass portholes recovered from scrapped vessels, to carved dolphins on the bulwarks.
I'm both proud and humbled to say that I helped to build her, devoting every weekend to the project. It took us about three years to build her, and we had the help of a couple of other guys who could devote more time than only our weekends. What an awesome thing it was to be part of creating something so beautiful. Sadly, due to my mother's health problems at the time, my dad had to shelf his plans and then he seemed to lose his interest in his dream. They did actually live on her for five years though, while in Hong Kong.
And we spent many a happy weekend out in the waters of Hong Kong, sails up and bombing along at a fair clip. A relatively heavy, low-draught boat, she took a lot of wind to get going and when she did, she was beautiful in her trim. Despite being a 'big black duck' (her original hull colour was black) she was incredibly responsive and such a joy to behold on the water.
She now calls the waters around Borocay in The Philippines, home, where she is a charter yacht. I hope those who sail on her feel as much joy as I did, no experience has ever matched laying on the bowsprit with her under full sail. That was my place, in charge of the genoa.
A friend and I were talking about rage and sanity and if one can over-ride the other. He said you're not insane if you can logically plan and execute something as awful as what Andrea Yates did, for example. I, however, believe there are things that make your mind stop functioning, so that you can no longer determine right from wrong. Temporary insanity. White uncontrolled rage. Something.
I felt in a position to talk authoritatively on the subject, having been the victim of such rage. There was a night, some years ago when my then partner, not liking the fact I challenged him about being out with another woman until the wee hours of the morning, instead of discussing it with me, formed fists with his hands and beat me. Over me asking where he'd been. Over me expecting him to tell me. Over me just wanting honesty. And yes, this was the man I had only three months before, uprooted my entire life for, to give him his dream.
I have looked into the eyes of insanity. The person who looked back at me was not the person I knew. It was like looking into the eyes of evil. I almost did not live to talk about it. At one point his fingers closed around my throat and he growled animal-like sounds at me through clenched teeth. A crazed look I will never forget.
Though I still am not sure how, I managed to wrest myself from his grip and get away from him. But he caught me and his fists beat repeatedly into my face and over my head, onto my arms when I held them up to cushion the blows. Then along my exposed sides as I sought to protect my head. I got away finally, to behind a locked door.
I discovered that night, that for all the force of his white rage, my will to survive outmatched him and I won. Good won over evil. The next day, all he talked of was the deep scratch on the back of his hand where one punch had missed my face and his fist had caught the edge of my earring. He sat there and complained about what I'd done TO HIM. Me with the bruises on my face and neck and arms and hands and head and sides.
Even if Andrea wasn't insane when she drowned her five children, one after the other, I am sure knowing what she did has made her insane with grief ever since. Or maybe her insanity keeps her from truly understanding it all.
Unfortunately good did not win over evil that time.
P.S. Oh, and in case you're wondering, no I didn't leave him after that beating. But that's another post for another day.
Just when I think I have learned the way to live, life changes and I am left the same. The more things change the more I am the same. I am what I started with, and when it is all over I will be all that is left of me.
~ Hugh Prather ~
Sunny Delight gave me the nudge I needed and I cracked the sucker!! I now have email and some links.
If I've put you there and you don't want to be there, please let me know. If I've emailed you with a 'please may I', please say yes. If I haven't because I don't have your email address, and you're a regular visitor here as I am at your place, please let me know if I may add you, I don't really want to post a comment somewhere on your board under a non-related topic.
Come one, come all, you know who you are.
And thank you Sunny, I was avoiding it and you gave me the gentle push I needed.
I have five weeks of annual leave (vacation) stored up and only four and a half months left in which to take it.
I was saving it on a 'just in case' basis as my mum is not well and there has been the possibility of her worsening quickly and me having to take the trip over to Scotland to be with her at short notice. Fortunately, the illness is progressing more slowly than once anticipated and a trip in September with my sister is planned. But that still leaves me with a lot of paid time off to take.
So here I am now with too many days off accumulated (and there's no pushing it forward after 31 December) and having to plan some time away.
Where oh where shall I go. What oh what shall I do. It has been long, long time since I had a holiday just for me, without family or partner obligations.
I need to shuck that oyster and swallow it whole.
I was organising my picture folders the other day and something struck me as I came across the folder with my own pictures in it. That my eyes hide nothing.
There are pictures of me as a child and pre-teen that show haunted eyes. Pictures of me growing into my early twenties with an incredible softness, maybe even submission, in those eyes. Then into my thirties I see a whole range of things shining through, running the gamut from good to bad and back again.
In my forties I seem to have been avoiding the camera, but there are a few from these times. I have one picture taken just over three years ago, when I was involved for the first time with a man who seemed to love me. My eyes did sparkle then. My heart and soul sparkled with what I was feeling. It later turned out to be another of life's disappointments though.
And now, looking at a recent photo, I see the strangest thing - that I seem to be expressing divergent emotions through each eye. They are a matching pair, unlike my mother who has one brown eye and one blue eye. But still, they seem to be saying different things.
Do you see it?
To me MY right eye (to your left) looks guarded and hardened - my past? While MY left eye (to your right) seems softer and more inviting - my future?
Perhaps eyes are like palms and should be read separately. Though together they reflect everything I am and everything I feel. And everything I see ahead of me as well as behind me. I wonder if, in the coming years, there will be more changes to them. If I have my way, my right eye will match my left eye in time.
Update from comments : Sad young eyes
From Miranda's blog:
| You Are A Chestnut Tree |
 And even though you're impressive and intimidating, you're also fun to be around. You can be irritated easily, and you sometimes act superior. Nevertheless, you are sensitive of others feelings and very loyal. Sometimes you feel misunderstood and are fiercely close to those who know you best. |
The day I discovered I'd forgotten how to eat.
One afternoon about six months into this terrible eating (or rather non-eating) regime, I sat down with my parents in the garden at the end of their lunch, when I judged it safe to sit at a table where food was being consumed. My father slid a section of the orange he had peeled in front of me and watched me. I didn't touch it for the longest time and he eventually asked me why I wasn't eating it. I felt backed into a corner, my heartrate shot up, I could hear my pulse beating in my ears. I was experiencing fear and I didn't know a way out. I was cornered with nowhere to turn. So I put it into my mouth.
And I didn't know what to do next. I'll never forget that moment of having something solid in my mouth for the first time in so many months and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to chew and it felt so ghastly sitting there on my tongue. But at that moment I realised how far down I had gone, how dangerous the whole situation was, how I was holding my life in my own hands. After several moments I moved it around in my mouth, not chewing, more sucking on it while my father's eyes stayed on me. I think I understood then that he knew something was terribly wrong with me and he wasn't going to move until he saw me eat this one piece of orange. Something clicked in my mind and I honestly felt it was a matter of life and death. Mine.
Eventually, after the longest time, I moved it in my mouth until it was positioned for my teeth to bear down on. The intensity of the flavour of the juice which spurted from it was so overpowering, I almost threw up. But I also knew that I was at a breaking point and if I didn't go forward I would be back further than I had slipped even then. That day, when I ate one piece of orange sitting in the garden with my father's eyes upon my face, I broke the spell. Or maybe he broke the spell for me. I know I'm one of the incredibly lucky ones who managed to out-think this horrible condition, who managed to find the strength I needed to see it for what it is, a killer.
But my journey wasn't over, for not long after I re-learned how to eat, I then went in the opposite direction and became bulimic, consuming vast amounts of food as some sort of punishment for perhaps what one part of me was saying was a weakness, eating. I hated eating with anyone and at family meals I managed to consume a normal portion. But behind my bedroom door I was cramming food into my mouth and swallowing. And this time there was a deliberate refusal to chew, I was merely swallowing. Swallowing until my throat hurt, swallowing until my stomach was so full my gullet remained packed with food and there was physically no room left for anything else. And I'd hold in my hand the next chocolate, or biscuit or cake or slice of bread I was going to consume as soon as there was space for it.
The laxatives continued. In larger doses than before and the pain of them working on all this stuff I was cramming into my stomach was like a drug to me. I was emotionally, physically, spiritually sated by the pain. I needed it and I sought it out while continuing to force feed myself. To the point that if I was out shopping I'd buy something to eat and go straight to a public toilet and sit there eating. Yes, I was that desperate for my fix. I had moved out from my parents by then and I'd go to a fast food restaurant for a take-away meal and order three or four of them so it looked like I was buying for a family and not just me (I had packed on the pounds again despite the laxatives) and I'd go home and eat it all, sitting in an almost hypnotic state just cramming food into my mouth and swallowing it, swallowing it until my throat hurt from the size of the pieces I was swallowing without chewing. Not even stopping to breathe and finding myself gasping for breath, my eyes, so often filled with tears, fixed upon an object to stop my mind from wandering and realising what I was doing. I was back there in my earlier years, desperately trying to fill that deep dark hole inside me.
I'm not sure which was worse, the ultimate control of anorexia or the desperate loss of control of bulimia. It took me years of struggling with my bulimia to find my way out the other side and in the process I think I have destroyed my appestat. I don't know when I'm hungry and I certainly don't know when I'm full. I'm happy to say, though, that I can manage these conditions better now than at any other time of my life. But I also know that there are days, albeit rare ones now, when I find it hard to stop eating. Like an alcoholic for whom one drink is too many and a thousand drinks aren't enough. But unlike an alcoholic, I have to have that one drink, a second drink, a third drink and more. I have to keep feeding my addiction while I teach myself to overcome it.
All this is a part of who I have become and while I do acknowledge I have sometimes been an enemy to myself, I also know that each step of this, my journey to me, has been necessary and important to who I have become. I am a strong woman with many scars, few of which are visible to the naked eye.
A mosaic of thoughts, musings, ramblings and reflections by a green-eyed woman living in Hong Kong
Atom Feed (xml)