homeless [check]
HA! That's it. It's all done. I am now officially reduced, after having everything stolen/losing stuff/donating the rest to charity, to one 30kg bag. Is it as nice and as liberating as everyone says? Sure, I suppose. Would be a lot more if I was 22 and leaving the country for the first time... but I digress.
TheGreek and I have been doing a mover comparison. We each have hired our own guys to do the moving thing over the past couple of days. I got a dude, his mate, and a mini-bakkie (pick up truck) thing for R450 to move my charity stuff from the flat to the school. They came, they packed, they tied the stuff down, they got stuck in a driveway for a while then they moved it. Fabulous. Relatively painless. Of course, as soon as the stuff was gone I had a bit of a cadenza and Cold Feet were in effect big time. TheGreek was like: You have nothing left. You have no job. Everything you wanted was stolen and everything you didn't want you gave away. What are you going to do, rugby tackle the 8 year old underprivileged child for the blow dryer you gave away then rebuild it from there? I debated this for a moment. Then I listened to some Vanilla Ice and it was ok. Ice! Ice! Baby!
TheGreek got a guy for R540. He showed up today after I had left. It was the dude and his bakkie and that was it. theGreek, ever the efficient handyman (I say with a twinkle in my eye and chuckle in my throat), was like: can you move this all on your own? And dude was like: um, yes, except for the couch, the bed, the fridge and the hall stand. HA! So guess what theGreek spent the afternoon doing? HAHAHAHHAHA. I laugh. I'm sorry, but I do.
But, my moving-in-with-theGreek-movers take the cake. That was the piece de resistance of moving. The Michaelangelo, if you will. Or the Gaudi. Take your pick. I called this dude, Mr September, and asked him to move me. He quoted me R650, and I thought: I don't care as long as I don't have to move it myself. On the day, Mr September rocked up in a pimped out late 80s Eclass Mercedes, with rolling mags, playboy stickers all over and the following wording on the back of his vehicle: "I'm pimpin' and I'm stylin' and I know you want me". Ok, this was my mover. I asked him how we were going to move. He said: here comes my truck. As sure as the sky is blue, this FkN BEAST of a truck, like a full on long haul transport truck that was old old old and grunting the entire way, reversed up my road. It stopped. And, as sure as the sun is hot, a veritable army of men hopped out the back of that truck and looked at Mr September. Mr September tossed a hand in the general direction of my stuff. They loaded me in 12 minutes flat, with me screeching after them: No! No! Please don't bubble wrap my orchid!. Then, they followed me in the Bullet (not TheNotTheBullet, the actual Bullet herself) through town and into Sea Point, where they unloaded me in 17 minutes flat (including the stairs).
Best R650 I ever spent.
Thursday
Wednesday
the new 12 sleeps
All this '+' and '-' sleeps is confusing the hell out of me now, so I'm just gonna start the count over again.
I'm looking at this right now. You know, just cuz....
I'm looking at this right now. You know, just cuz....
Tuesday
-1 sleeps + 14
I'm glad my thesis and I are on good terms again. We had a fight a couple of months ago and stopped talking to each other. We went through a phase of each trying to destroy the other, like two old, angry, slightly demented dogs of war lost in a tropical bush somewhere with nothing but a pocket knife and a bone to pick.
But we got over it. We talked it through and hugged it out. Now, we are on good terms. In fact, I'm galloping on a big black horse towards a tower.... nah, change that...The thesis is galloping on a big black horse towards a tower, where I am waiting to jump out a window and on the back of that horse so the thesis and I can go careening into the sunset together. We're getting there, dear thesis, we are getting there.
But we got over it. We talked it through and hugged it out. Now, we are on good terms. In fact, I'm galloping on a big black horse towards a tower.... nah, change that...The thesis is galloping on a big black horse towards a tower, where I am waiting to jump out a window and on the back of that horse so the thesis and I can go careening into the sunset together. We're getting there, dear thesis, we are getting there.
Monday
0 sleeps + 14
I should be home in 12 hours. Aaaaaah-las, I am not.
In fun-and-exciting news, my thesis supervisor suggested that I add another chapter in my thesis dealing with jurisdiction issues. Who-hoo! [high fives] *misses* (cries)
I'm already bored of being unemployed. Seriously, what do people do with their time? Over the past five years I've become so accustomed to working full-time, studying my LLB / LLM part-time and training like a demon that I don't know what it's like not to have a 12 hr day at minimum. I stopped training about 6 weeks ago just to give my body a rest before flying back and now on top of that I don't work either. Boooooooooooooooooored. Like, Donkey in Shrek 2 in the carriage on the way to Far Far Away - that kind of bored.
At least of I've got the thesis! Ha!
In fun-and-exciting news, my thesis supervisor suggested that I add another chapter in my thesis dealing with jurisdiction issues. Who-hoo! [high fives] *misses* (cries)
I'm already bored of being unemployed. Seriously, what do people do with their time? Over the past five years I've become so accustomed to working full-time, studying my LLB / LLM part-time and training like a demon that I don't know what it's like not to have a 12 hr day at minimum. I stopped training about 6 weeks ago just to give my body a rest before flying back and now on top of that I don't work either. Boooooooooooooooooored. Like, Donkey in Shrek 2 in the carriage on the way to Far Far Away - that kind of bored.
At least of I've got the thesis! Ha!
Saturday
2 sleeps + 14
Aside from all the delays and changes, one thing that makes me pat-self-on-back proud of myself is the fact that, from the moment I started this blog, I actually got the number of sleeps right. Well done, T-Lo, well done!
Friday
3 sleeps + 14
I am sitting at Primi in Camps Bay, enjoying the after-effects of a facial and massage from the Little Mouse, drinking coffee and watching the ocean. I could get used to this being-unemployed-thing.
Otherwise... hmmm... pretty chilled. ....
AH!
AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
My tastebuds have just been ASSAULTED!
Gross! Ewww!!!!!!! Yuck! Blech!
[spits, scrapes tongue with knife]
[drools a bit]
WTF.
I ordered a bite to eat with my coffee. One egg, one piece of toast, 2 pieces of bacon and some roasted tomato.
There I am, merrily eating away when suddenly, out of nowhere, my tastebuds are attacked! Then, in self defense, they crawl into the recesses of my tongue, screaming for mercy. Seriously, there are claw marks on the inside of my mouth right now. I'm so grossed out.
Dear Primi;
Do not try to inspire 'global fusion' to your dishes by artfully decorating the plate with swirls of Marmite. If I want that horrible brown sludge on my food, I'll ask for it.
Love,
T-Lo
Otherwise... hmmm... pretty chilled. ....
AH!
AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
My tastebuds have just been ASSAULTED!
Gross! Ewww!!!!!!! Yuck! Blech!
[spits, scrapes tongue with knife]
[drools a bit]
WTF.
I ordered a bite to eat with my coffee. One egg, one piece of toast, 2 pieces of bacon and some roasted tomato.
There I am, merrily eating away when suddenly, out of nowhere, my tastebuds are attacked! Then, in self defense, they crawl into the recesses of my tongue, screaming for mercy. Seriously, there are claw marks on the inside of my mouth right now. I'm so grossed out.
Dear Primi;
Do not try to inspire 'global fusion' to your dishes by artfully decorating the plate with swirls of Marmite. If I want that horrible brown sludge on my food, I'll ask for it.
Love,
T-Lo
Wednesday
5 sleeps + 14
Car-less [check]
Clothes-less [check]
Job-less [check]
Money-less [almost check]
Home-less [ ]
One to go!! This is fun again :) :) :)
Bring it on! Bring! It! On!
Huzzah!
Clothes-less [check]
Job-less [check]
Money-less [almost check]
Home-less [ ]
One to go!! This is fun again :) :) :)
Bring it on! Bring! It! On!
Huzzah!
Tuesday
6 sleeps + 14
Denied! Delayed! De-can't-believe-it!
Passport issues... thesis issues... ah well, what's another two weeks at this point? At least now I'll have a chance to check out this joint with a couple of mates before I go. I met the owner / chef the other night... he told me that they are doing a 6 course winter special for R150. Not bad. Not bad at all. I know it will be fantastic as the chef has won a series of national and international awards and the restaurant itself received glowing reviews in a Conde Nast publication recently.
One thing that the Mother City does well (which the Hammer / Toronto do not) is restaurants. Mother City restaurants are generally locally owned and tastefully done and waiters are likely to suggest a decent wine pairing with your meal. The Hammer / Toronto, on the other hand, are dominated by The Chain Restaurant and the decor mimics every other chain restaurant in existence. Like, you could be at a Swiss Chalet in the Hammer, which is the exact same as the Swiss Chalet in Toronto. Likewise for the Keg or Kelsey's or any other chain... and the waiters, instead of offering a decent wine pairing, are likely to offer to supersize your curly fries with your meal. Curly fries. *shudders*
Passport issues... thesis issues... ah well, what's another two weeks at this point? At least now I'll have a chance to check out this joint with a couple of mates before I go. I met the owner / chef the other night... he told me that they are doing a 6 course winter special for R150. Not bad. Not bad at all. I know it will be fantastic as the chef has won a series of national and international awards and the restaurant itself received glowing reviews in a Conde Nast publication recently.
One thing that the Mother City does well (which the Hammer / Toronto do not) is restaurants. Mother City restaurants are generally locally owned and tastefully done and waiters are likely to suggest a decent wine pairing with your meal. The Hammer / Toronto, on the other hand, are dominated by The Chain Restaurant and the decor mimics every other chain restaurant in existence. Like, you could be at a Swiss Chalet in the Hammer, which is the exact same as the Swiss Chalet in Toronto. Likewise for the Keg or Kelsey's or any other chain... and the waiters, instead of offering a decent wine pairing, are likely to offer to supersize your curly fries with your meal. Curly fries. *shudders*
Friday
10 sleeps part 2
Ok, I've written about Big A and I've written about Big E [ha!] but I've never written about the Prez, so here's one for him.
Year: 1991
Location: the attic
Time of year: Hallowe'en
Hallowe'en is huge in Canada. Everyone loves to participate.. regardless if you are three years old and wearing your first Spiderman costume or whether you are a 17 year old high school student desperate for an outfit so you can go out and collect candy / get drunk with your mates.
So brings us to this tale. The Prez and I shared the attic of the family home in the Hammer ... I had the room at the front of the house, he had the room at the back with the staircase (we both wanted that and whined to my dad about it, who used his gentle fatherly skills to tell us to 'fight it out, but no bleeding on the furniture', which we did, which I lost, and for which I have been practicing martial arts for four years in order to avenge the loss of the room with the staircase... but that's another story). It was after school, he was in his room listening to Metallica, I was in my room listening to Madonna. He came into my room, in a cloud of cigarette and marijuana smoke, and said that he needed help picking out an outfit and could I help him.
He wanted to dress as a prostitute, you see.
Now, don't think it's weird. The men on my dad's side - all of them - have a thing about dressing up in crazy 'feminine' outfits when drunk. It never fails ... half a Coors Lite in and they start demanding taffeta and feathers. Anyway, the Prez wanted to go out as a prostitute for Hallowe'en. And, clearly, he thought my wardrobe contained items that were suitable to fulfill this costume requirement.
Soooo... we trawled through my wardrobe. We found a nice, tight, black embroidered Guess miniskirt, a pair of black stilletto heels, a low-cut gold lame tank top and some gawdy costume jewellery. Now, on their own and paired with appropriate pieces, these items were not 'skanky'. Combined... we had hit the payload! It was skanky! It was slutty! It reeked of low classed-ness! It demanded a 5 dollar bill to be thrown at it! Then, I did the Prez's make up. Red lip stick, dark dark gaudy eyes. I gave him a quick lesson on how to Strut in those stillettoes.
Satisfied with his outfit and complete transformation into the quintessential Prostitute, off he went, strutting down the street, hips a-sashay-ing, dreaklocks a-glitter-ing, shoulders a-strutt-ing. He saw his friend walking towards him, so he strutted a bit more. His friend passed him, with hardly a second glance, said "Hey T-Lo" and kept walking.
WTF?!
Year: 1991
Location: the attic
Time of year: Hallowe'en
Hallowe'en is huge in Canada. Everyone loves to participate.. regardless if you are three years old and wearing your first Spiderman costume or whether you are a 17 year old high school student desperate for an outfit so you can go out and collect candy / get drunk with your mates.
So brings us to this tale. The Prez and I shared the attic of the family home in the Hammer ... I had the room at the front of the house, he had the room at the back with the staircase (we both wanted that and whined to my dad about it, who used his gentle fatherly skills to tell us to 'fight it out, but no bleeding on the furniture', which we did, which I lost, and for which I have been practicing martial arts for four years in order to avenge the loss of the room with the staircase... but that's another story). It was after school, he was in his room listening to Metallica, I was in my room listening to Madonna. He came into my room, in a cloud of cigarette and marijuana smoke, and said that he needed help picking out an outfit and could I help him.
He wanted to dress as a prostitute, you see.
Now, don't think it's weird. The men on my dad's side - all of them - have a thing about dressing up in crazy 'feminine' outfits when drunk. It never fails ... half a Coors Lite in and they start demanding taffeta and feathers. Anyway, the Prez wanted to go out as a prostitute for Hallowe'en. And, clearly, he thought my wardrobe contained items that were suitable to fulfill this costume requirement.
Soooo... we trawled through my wardrobe. We found a nice, tight, black embroidered Guess miniskirt, a pair of black stilletto heels, a low-cut gold lame tank top and some gawdy costume jewellery. Now, on their own and paired with appropriate pieces, these items were not 'skanky'. Combined... we had hit the payload! It was skanky! It was slutty! It reeked of low classed-ness! It demanded a 5 dollar bill to be thrown at it! Then, I did the Prez's make up. Red lip stick, dark dark gaudy eyes. I gave him a quick lesson on how to Strut in those stillettoes.
Satisfied with his outfit and complete transformation into the quintessential Prostitute, off he went, strutting down the street, hips a-sashay-ing, dreaklocks a-glitter-ing, shoulders a-strutt-ing. He saw his friend walking towards him, so he strutted a bit more. His friend passed him, with hardly a second glance, said "Hey T-Lo" and kept walking.
WTF?!
10 sleeps
... of the day:
Quote: "Your rabid enthusiasm for your thesis overwhelms me."
Word: obstreperous
Look: Face Like Thunder mashed up with Quite Frankly, I Don't Give A Damn.
Search: Where be the new passport? Where? Be? It?
Book: The Essential Calvin and Hobbes.
Goal: Four points and a half snap.
Post-It Note: Remember to sign Colleague XX to porn junk-mail site as revenge for numerous disturbing emails containing pictures of fluffy little animals accompanied by 'words of wisdom'.
Almost Jail Moment: [slaps hand] "Bad cop! No donut!"
Desire: velveteen fire engine red knock off Ed Hardy leisure suit with raised gold flower detail and diamante snakes. Haaaawt!
House-mate Adventure: When giving directions to the dinner party, leave out a turn or two. Time how long it takes him to find it. Question his ability to take directions.
Wanna-be Superhero: Optimus Prime. Transformers... they are more than meets the eye.
Advice Offering: Don't do your Masters in Law unless you really really really want it bad.
Scolding from Parental Unit: Enough is enough. It's time to come home now.
Annoying Song Lyrics Actually Stuck In Head: "Mahna Mahna... Do Dooo D' Do Do... Mahna Mahna! Do Do D'Do!"
Soothing Song Lyrics Stuck That Should Be In Head: "...Pick up the phone off the cabin wall / I listen to you moan that I have it all / You cruise with a tight crew all night bru / And you bruised your sight through the fight too..."
Quote: "Your rabid enthusiasm for your thesis overwhelms me."
Word: obstreperous
Look: Face Like Thunder mashed up with Quite Frankly, I Don't Give A Damn.
Search: Where be the new passport? Where? Be? It?
Book: The Essential Calvin and Hobbes.
Goal: Four points and a half snap.
Post-It Note: Remember to sign Colleague XX to porn junk-mail site as revenge for numerous disturbing emails containing pictures of fluffy little animals accompanied by 'words of wisdom'.
Almost Jail Moment: [slaps hand] "Bad cop! No donut!"
Desire: velveteen fire engine red knock off Ed Hardy leisure suit with raised gold flower detail and diamante snakes. Haaaawt!
House-mate Adventure: When giving directions to the dinner party, leave out a turn or two. Time how long it takes him to find it. Question his ability to take directions.
Wanna-be Superhero: Optimus Prime. Transformers... they are more than meets the eye.
Advice Offering: Don't do your Masters in Law unless you really really really want it bad.
Scolding from Parental Unit: Enough is enough. It's time to come home now.
Annoying Song Lyrics Actually Stuck In Head: "Mahna Mahna... Do Dooo D' Do Do... Mahna Mahna! Do Do D'Do!"
Soothing Song Lyrics Stuck That Should Be In Head: "...Pick up the phone off the cabin wall / I listen to you moan that I have it all / You cruise with a tight crew all night bru / And you bruised your sight through the fight too..."
Wednesday
12 sleeps part 2
Now that the whole phoenix rising moment has passed, I can pass on to the other thing I was thinking about between 3 and 5 am. I'm a multi-task thinker...
A dear friend of mine from high school uploaded a photo of a few of us from 1995 and I was instantaneously snap! pop! transported back to those days. I've been thinking long and hard about my oldest and dearest friend Kiki. We met when we were four, went to the same schools growing up, did our undergraduate degrees in the same city, lived together for 2 1/2 years during that time then went around the world together. Amazingly, we only fought a few times. It's amazing how much history you can build with a person like that. Aside from the usual growing up stories...practicing for the band, walking to school, getting mad life lessons from mothers over peanut butter sandwiches...we've got a larceny of intensely personal history stories as well.
We actually used to celebrate our anniversary by buying each other flowers (it will be 31 years this September). I used to cheer K up after a bad day by saying, in a 70s smooth Great Gazooba radio dj voice "But your eyes, they are like a river of diamonds in a sea of blackness" then go on and on (and on) from there. We used to dye each others hair, from red to blond and back again until one of us had their hair fall right out of their head. We shared a 3/4 bed (with my cat) in my York University residence for three months after K split with the Chop. When we jumped to Japan, we traveled with a ghetto blaster (pre-digi age) and a bucket load of CDs that we each had collected over the years.
Some bits I remember:
During the Toronto days, I was walking home from the subway station and saw myself on the other side of the road (that is a very weird sensation), then realized it was K because she was wearing my clothes. She thought the same thing at the same time and for the same reasons.
I tried to teach K to drive during the Cape Town 97 days. When she did a left turn across three lanes of traffic on two wheels, I made her pull over and gave her the "The Rearview Mirror Is Your Friend" speech.
We were away for a weekend in the Cederburg at that time. K was yapping away by the fire, looked up, stopped suddenly and asked why the wood planks had knots in them. I had a huge beautiful story about squirrels and nuts that went on for about 10 minutes. Proud of myself, I sighed when I was finished. K looked at me and said "OMG, you are so full of sh*t T!"
We used to play Horse in her mom's shop when we were young. She was Princess Nancy, the prettiest horse in the land, revered by many and desired by all. I was the Black Stallion and no one could catch me.
We took the subway home after a night on the town during the Toronto days. K was tired. I was in charge. I decided it would be fun to get off at random subway stops and switch subways. I was running between trains, between lines, with K shouting after me. Finally, she asked if I knew where I was. I said yes. I looked out the window until the subway came into the station. I said "Dundas". She said "We're going the wrong way!" and I said "There is no wrong way! Only a fun way!"
A dear friend of mine from high school uploaded a photo of a few of us from 1995 and I was instantaneously snap! pop! transported back to those days. I've been thinking long and hard about my oldest and dearest friend Kiki. We met when we were four, went to the same schools growing up, did our undergraduate degrees in the same city, lived together for 2 1/2 years during that time then went around the world together. Amazingly, we only fought a few times. It's amazing how much history you can build with a person like that. Aside from the usual growing up stories...practicing for the band, walking to school, getting mad life lessons from mothers over peanut butter sandwiches...we've got a larceny of intensely personal history stories as well.
We actually used to celebrate our anniversary by buying each other flowers (it will be 31 years this September). I used to cheer K up after a bad day by saying, in a 70s smooth Great Gazooba radio dj voice "But your eyes, they are like a river of diamonds in a sea of blackness" then go on and on (and on) from there. We used to dye each others hair, from red to blond and back again until one of us had their hair fall right out of their head. We shared a 3/4 bed (with my cat) in my York University residence for three months after K split with the Chop. When we jumped to Japan, we traveled with a ghetto blaster (pre-digi age) and a bucket load of CDs that we each had collected over the years.
Some bits I remember:
During the Toronto days, I was walking home from the subway station and saw myself on the other side of the road (that is a very weird sensation), then realized it was K because she was wearing my clothes. She thought the same thing at the same time and for the same reasons.
I tried to teach K to drive during the Cape Town 97 days. When she did a left turn across three lanes of traffic on two wheels, I made her pull over and gave her the "The Rearview Mirror Is Your Friend" speech.
We were away for a weekend in the Cederburg at that time. K was yapping away by the fire, looked up, stopped suddenly and asked why the wood planks had knots in them. I had a huge beautiful story about squirrels and nuts that went on for about 10 minutes. Proud of myself, I sighed when I was finished. K looked at me and said "OMG, you are so full of sh*t T!"
We used to play Horse in her mom's shop when we were young. She was Princess Nancy, the prettiest horse in the land, revered by many and desired by all. I was the Black Stallion and no one could catch me.
We took the subway home after a night on the town during the Toronto days. K was tired. I was in charge. I decided it would be fun to get off at random subway stops and switch subways. I was running between trains, between lines, with K shouting after me. Finally, she asked if I knew where I was. I said yes. I looked out the window until the subway came into the station. I said "Dundas". She said "We're going the wrong way!" and I said "There is no wrong way! Only a fun way!"
12 sleeps
Ah done gone thunk myself awake at 2am then ah done gone thunk some more.
I find I am particularly adept at thinking things through between the hours of 3am and 5am. I recommend you try it sometime. Because, you know, everyone is awake at those hours anyway.
As everyone who reads this blog, FB status updates and tweets knows, and everyone who is in within moaning distance of me knows, I lost my TheNotTheBullet the other day. Now, on top of that, my char has made off with the main sections of my wardrobe (long story, don't ask, it pains me to think about). At this rate, I'm going to be going back to Canada with the clothes on my back and a handbag. So, naturally, being car-less, mostly clothes-less, almost job-less and nearly home-less, I am feeling the pangs of stress a bit. Hence the 2am wake up.
There I was, at 2am, cursing the curs-ed universe and all the hell it has been raining down upon me (I can be a real drama queen when I want to be) and then I had a little pause. Then, a slight suspension. Then a flash. Then silence. Then stillness. Then a stupefied look on my face.
Now, it may seem dramatic and self indulgent, but I am like this dude. I am figuratively throwing myself on the pyre (let's keep it figurative, universe!) to get ready for the next chapter. And, I also realized that I haven't been given a life defining moment by the universe because, through moments like this and the one in 1997, I give them to myself. And, accepting that as fact, I feel much calmer now.
I find I am particularly adept at thinking things through between the hours of 3am and 5am. I recommend you try it sometime. Because, you know, everyone is awake at those hours anyway.
As everyone who reads this blog, FB status updates and tweets knows, and everyone who is in within moaning distance of me knows, I lost my TheNotTheBullet the other day. Now, on top of that, my char has made off with the main sections of my wardrobe (long story, don't ask, it pains me to think about). At this rate, I'm going to be going back to Canada with the clothes on my back and a handbag. So, naturally, being car-less, mostly clothes-less, almost job-less and nearly home-less, I am feeling the pangs of stress a bit. Hence the 2am wake up.
There I was, at 2am, cursing the curs-ed universe and all the hell it has been raining down upon me (I can be a real drama queen when I want to be) and then I had a little pause. Then, a slight suspension. Then a flash. Then silence. Then stillness. Then a stupefied look on my face.
Now, it may seem dramatic and self indulgent, but I am like this dude. I am figuratively throwing myself on the pyre (let's keep it figurative, universe!) to get ready for the next chapter. And, I also realized that I haven't been given a life defining moment by the universe because, through moments like this and the one in 1997, I give them to myself. And, accepting that as fact, I feel much calmer now.
Monday
14 sleeps
The Great Soup Disaster of 2008
One cold wintry Sunday, sometime last July, me and D on the G
Dom: I need to go make coffee... you want one?
T-Lo: No thanks.
...
Dom: OMG
T-Lo: ?
Dom: OMG!!!
T-Lo: ????
Dom: WTF is in the fridge?
T-Lo: ????????
Dom: There are some UFOs in the fridge.
T-Lo: What you mean?
Dom: There is a jar with unidentified floating objects in the fridge.
T-Lo: What?!!
Dom: There is a jar, with carrots and broccoli and other random vegetables floating around in liquid.
T-Lo: Dominique. FkU. That's my lunch.
Dom: What. Is. That.
T-Lo: It's soup.
Dom: How is that soup? How IS that soup, Tany(ass)?!
T-Lo: I made it myself, from scratch.
Dom: I can tell. How did you make it?
T-Lo: I got a Hearty Soup pack from Woolies [a smattering of fresh vegetables that you make into soup yourself] and made soup.
Dom: Where did it go wrong?
T-Lo: Well, I decided to make soup...
Dom: Yes, we've been over that.
T-Lo: HEY! So, I got a pack from Woolies and boiled the veggies.
Dom: Good start.
T-Lo: But, I was watching AD at the time and forgot add the extras, like stock and spices and whatnot.
Dom: And those ingredients are called 'extras'?
T-Lo: HEY. Then, when I was done, I couldn't find my blender so I couldn't mix the soup properly. So I just ate it as is.
Dom: So, you made boiled vegetables in water.
T-Lo: It's soup!
Dom: Wa'eva. That's not soup. Not at all.
T-Lo: [angry face]
Friday
18 sleeps
For those of you that read this blog, the next two weeks will likely be filled with manic, self-indulgent, perhaps narcisstic, emotionally conflicting blog entries. Stop now if that bores you. When I started this blog, I decided it would be an online diary of how I feel about moving back to Canada after 13 years of travelling, warts and all. So, take it or leave it. If you are looking for the witty, fun, light-hearted T-Lo, she'll pop her head up here and there over the next few weeks, but serious self-critical T-Lo is in full effect right now. (did I just refer to myself in the third person? Twice?!)
OK. This UN thing. After debating with myself, my family, respected colleagues and loved ones, I've done the following:
1. Confirmed my willingness to do the assignment.
2. Uploaded my most recent CV.
The assignment starts 11 July. That means that I have six weeks in Canada to see how things pan out. I'm really caught over this whole thing. On one hand, I want to go back to Canada, chill with my family, get a 'proper job', settle down in TO, get a cat and call her McLovin (you see how I've planned?! I've already got a name for my to-be-grey kitten!), train with Alin, normalize relations with the Hammer...then, this F**KING UN thing comes through at the 11th hour, the last minute, the final hour. This is the job I have wanted for the last ten years. But sometimes, when you get what you want, you don't want it anymore, right? Like, you were focused on the wrong thing, you know? DomTastic (DomAss?) yelled at me in the midst of a self-indulgent moangroan session I was having: she said that maybe I have to look at it as the universe having perfect timing. Hmmmm......
I'll tell you, I haven't gone through a phase like this since June 1997. Then, I had no money and had everything I own stolen. I had no idea where I would sleep at night, where my next meal would come from, how I would earn money to survive.... That was on the front end of my little Africa adventure. Now, on the back end, I had my TheNotTheBullet stolen 8 days after I had the insurance cancelled (long story, don't ask, still beating myself repeatedly for that). Now TheNotTheBullet money was my 'transition slush fund' for when I got back..I would be able to take a couple of months to settle in, readjust, train properly and get into the groove of things before having to dive full on into some hectic work environment. That is no longer an option. I am using my move-everything-across-the-ocean money as my slush fund, which means that I have to get rid of everything here. I've reduced my life into one 30kg bag of clothing and one kist of books. And it's kind of sad to look at the one lonely, slightly overstuffed bag and the pitifully reduced collection of books and think to yourself - is this it? Is this what my life amounts to? Is this the sum total of my accomplishments? Some clothes and a few books?
I'll try to explain how I feel: I feel like, no matter what I do or how I plan or what I want, I have absolutely no control over what's going to happen with my life over the next couple of years (gawd I hope it doesn't last that long!). Like, you are paddling a boat, with that monkey on your shoulders, and you are coming up to a waterfall, and you try to eddy out or backpaddle away or sit behing a rock or hug a tree to avoid going over that bloody thing, but no matter what you do or how you do it, you are still going over. And you are going over right now.
OK. This UN thing. After debating with myself, my family, respected colleagues and loved ones, I've done the following:
1. Confirmed my willingness to do the assignment.
2. Uploaded my most recent CV.
The assignment starts 11 July. That means that I have six weeks in Canada to see how things pan out. I'm really caught over this whole thing. On one hand, I want to go back to Canada, chill with my family, get a 'proper job', settle down in TO, get a cat and call her McLovin (you see how I've planned?! I've already got a name for my to-be-grey kitten!), train with Alin, normalize relations with the Hammer...then, this F**KING UN thing comes through at the 11th hour, the last minute, the final hour. This is the job I have wanted for the last ten years. But sometimes, when you get what you want, you don't want it anymore, right? Like, you were focused on the wrong thing, you know? DomTastic (DomAss?) yelled at me in the midst of a self-indulgent moangroan session I was having: she said that maybe I have to look at it as the universe having perfect timing. Hmmmm......
I'll tell you, I haven't gone through a phase like this since June 1997. Then, I had no money and had everything I own stolen. I had no idea where I would sleep at night, where my next meal would come from, how I would earn money to survive.... That was on the front end of my little Africa adventure. Now, on the back end, I had my TheNotTheBullet stolen 8 days after I had the insurance cancelled (long story, don't ask, still beating myself repeatedly for that). Now TheNotTheBullet money was my 'transition slush fund' for when I got back..I would be able to take a couple of months to settle in, readjust, train properly and get into the groove of things before having to dive full on into some hectic work environment. That is no longer an option. I am using my move-everything-across-the-ocean money as my slush fund, which means that I have to get rid of everything here. I've reduced my life into one 30kg bag of clothing and one kist of books. And it's kind of sad to look at the one lonely, slightly overstuffed bag and the pitifully reduced collection of books and think to yourself - is this it? Is this what my life amounts to? Is this the sum total of my accomplishments? Some clothes and a few books?
I'll try to explain how I feel: I feel like, no matter what I do or how I plan or what I want, I have absolutely no control over what's going to happen with my life over the next couple of years (gawd I hope it doesn't last that long!). Like, you are paddling a boat, with that monkey on your shoulders, and you are coming up to a waterfall, and you try to eddy out or backpaddle away or sit behing a rock or hug a tree to avoid going over that bloody thing, but no matter what you do or how you do it, you are still going over. And you are going over right now.
Wednesday
19 sleeps
A moment with my housemate, theGreek
TheGreek came running into my room last night, waking me from my near-coma-like slumber (granted, it was only, like, 930, but anyway...)
TheGreek: T! T! T! Wake up! Wake the Fk up!
T-Lo: arghmmmphhphargh
TheGreek: arghmmmphhphargh!! Hahahah!! WAKE UP.
T-Lo: What's going on?
TheGreek: I've just come from gym.
T-Lo: [shocked into silence]
TheGreek: Can you help me put this on?
(holds up red bracelet thing that must be tied around his wrist)
T-Lo: Ok.
(tries to tie red thing-y around wrist)
TheGreek: You must say affirmations and give me positive energy.
T-Lo: [sniggers] [snorts]
TheGreek: Seriously, say things like: Love and Strength and Power and put positive energy into tying the knots...
T-Lo: [sniggers] [snorts]
TheGreek: [leaning forward and looking me right in the eye] You have made me shake hands with a bag of dirt. Now, do the affirmations and tie seven knots on my bracelet.
T-Lo: [owned] [silenced]
In other news, theGreek's gone through everything I own and claimed dibs on everything he wants. He's making off with my bed, my pots, my wine glasses, my colander, my inflatable roofracks, my towel sets, my masks, some of my books, my filing boxes, my flower vase and my blenders. Not bad!
In work news, this Congo thing is sitting with me. It's a one year assignment. And they want an answer by tomorrow.
TheGreek came running into my room last night, waking me from my near-coma-like slumber (granted, it was only, like, 930, but anyway...)
TheGreek: T! T! T! Wake up! Wake the Fk up!
T-Lo: arghmmmphhphargh
TheGreek: arghmmmphhphargh!! Hahahah!! WAKE UP.
T-Lo: What's going on?
TheGreek: I've just come from gym.
T-Lo: [shocked into silence]
TheGreek: Can you help me put this on?
(holds up red bracelet thing that must be tied around his wrist)
T-Lo: Ok.
(tries to tie red thing-y around wrist)
TheGreek: You must say affirmations and give me positive energy.
T-Lo: [sniggers] [snorts]
TheGreek: Seriously, say things like: Love and Strength and Power and put positive energy into tying the knots...
T-Lo: [sniggers] [snorts]
TheGreek: [leaning forward and looking me right in the eye] You have made me shake hands with a bag of dirt. Now, do the affirmations and tie seven knots on my bracelet.
T-Lo: [owned] [silenced]
In other news, theGreek's gone through everything I own and claimed dibs on everything he wants. He's making off with my bed, my pots, my wine glasses, my colander, my inflatable roofracks, my towel sets, my masks, some of my books, my filing boxes, my flower vase and my blenders. Not bad!
In work news, this Congo thing is sitting with me. It's a one year assignment. And they want an answer by tomorrow.
Sunday
22 sleeps
It's Sunday. I'm at work. Again.
I've just had to re-load Skype.
I've got a gig of memory left on my laptop. The Company IT guru told me I had to delete stuff to lighten the load, as it were. He gave me some choices:
1. some of the 25 gigs of music I have (uh uh)
2. or the 10 gigs of photos (no way)
3. or maybe some of my 15 gigs of fight movies (hell no); or
4. other apps I don't really use.
(Hmmm.... shows my level of productivity in these last "MinDays")
But I use all my apps. I swear!
He looked at me. Up and down. Like a purebred Persian looks at a drooling happy puppy. I looked up at him from my desk. Like a wide eyed child with a toy that she simply does not know how to use. After some back-ing and forth-ing and lots of foot stomping on my part, 'we' (he, with me moaning the entire time) decided that I had too many 'social networking / communication tools' and I could 'afford to delete some'. (oh no I can't!) So, we calculated. I've got:
1. This blog.
2. Facebook.
3. Myspace.
4. Twitter.
5. 2 email accounts with the Company.
6. A Gmail account.
7. A hotmail account.
8. G-chat.
9. MSN Messenger.
10. Pandion.
11. Trillian.
12. Skype.
Now, I love all my 'social networking / communication tools' equally. I don't choose favourites and I don't judge. One day I'm on the G, the next I'm on MSN. It's fair that way.
IT guru said that surely I could delete some of the IM programmes, because all I do really is set my status to 'busy' or 'away' or 'invisible' and ignore everyone anyway. (Whoa. Fightin' words! I so do not do that! I! So! Do! Not!) Eventually 'we' (he, with me moaning the entire time) decided to get rid of Skype. That really p*ssed me off because I had just loaded it the week before (It guru: Uh, you really aren't supposed to download skype at the office. Me: Evil Glare mashed up with Face Like Thunder. IT guru: rolls eyes).
Off it went. The next day, I checked the space on my main drive. Still one gig. The next day, the same. Still the same on the third day. So I dragged the IT guru back into my lair and showed him the one gig remaining. Turns out the problem wasn't with the programs (ha!) but my laptop needs to be re-... re-... re-booted? configured? charged? Well, he's going to do that this week. In the meantime, I've reloaded Skpe, got my user name from Ms K (forgot it) and reset my password (forgot that too). Now I just have to figure out how to use it. Yay! Skype. Yay!
I've just had to re-load Skype.
I've got a gig of memory left on my laptop. The Company IT guru told me I had to delete stuff to lighten the load, as it were. He gave me some choices:
1. some of the 25 gigs of music I have (uh uh)
2. or the 10 gigs of photos (no way)
3. or maybe some of my 15 gigs of fight movies (hell no); or
4. other apps I don't really use.
(Hmmm.... shows my level of productivity in these last "MinDays")
But I use all my apps. I swear!
He looked at me. Up and down. Like a purebred Persian looks at a drooling happy puppy. I looked up at him from my desk. Like a wide eyed child with a toy that she simply does not know how to use. After some back-ing and forth-ing and lots of foot stomping on my part, 'we' (he, with me moaning the entire time) decided that I had too many 'social networking / communication tools' and I could 'afford to delete some'. (oh no I can't!) So, we calculated. I've got:
1. This blog.
2. Facebook.
3. Myspace.
4. Twitter.
5. 2 email accounts with the Company.
6. A Gmail account.
7. A hotmail account.
8. G-chat.
9. MSN Messenger.
10. Pandion.
11. Trillian.
12. Skype.
Now, I love all my 'social networking / communication tools' equally. I don't choose favourites and I don't judge. One day I'm on the G, the next I'm on MSN. It's fair that way.
IT guru said that surely I could delete some of the IM programmes, because all I do really is set my status to 'busy' or 'away' or 'invisible' and ignore everyone anyway. (Whoa. Fightin' words! I so do not do that! I! So! Do! Not!) Eventually 'we' (he, with me moaning the entire time) decided to get rid of Skype. That really p*ssed me off because I had just loaded it the week before (It guru: Uh, you really aren't supposed to download skype at the office. Me: Evil Glare mashed up with Face Like Thunder. IT guru: rolls eyes).
Off it went. The next day, I checked the space on my main drive. Still one gig. The next day, the same. Still the same on the third day. So I dragged the IT guru back into my lair and showed him the one gig remaining. Turns out the problem wasn't with the programs (ha!) but my laptop needs to be re-... re-... re-booted? configured? charged? Well, he's going to do that this week. In the meantime, I've reloaded Skpe, got my user name from Ms K (forgot it) and reset my password (forgot that too). Now I just have to figure out how to use it. Yay! Skype. Yay!
Saturday
23 sleeps
It's Saturday morning. I'm at work with DomTastic, listening to her go off on a rant of note, which is making me laugh, which is making me forget that I no longer own my TheNotTheBullet, which is good.
I'll definitely miss all my friends when I go back. I know I've got family and friends back in the Hammer, but it will take time to readjust. It's the day to day casual comfortable elements of having friends that I'll miss, like DomTastic's G-rants that start like this: "f**********[bangs head on desk]*******ck!", or theGreek dancing around the kitchen and singing I'm a Little TeaPot while cooking, or the Queen screaming "SANderson!!!!" from across the gym... I suppose it's the familiarity of the predictable that you get used to in day to day living.
DomTastic (Dom[ass]?) suggested that I take out an ad on Gumtree or Craigslist or similar. Like this: "Wanted: Friends. Short-sighted, partially deaf, self-proclaimed intellectual giant and martial arts enthusiast seeks friends. Have been told by current friends that have a warm personality - like a sunbeam across a cold cheek on a midwinter day. I think they mean it. Must be fun, childless, willing to put up with mad sms messages at 1am, vodka/lime appreciators. Must know all the words to the Sponge Bob theme song and not make spelling errors of any sort. No freaks."
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