Roll on tomorrow.
Roll on posh dinner cruise.
Roll on getting to be all dressed up and stylish together.
Roll on the weekend.
Roll on showing him off to my family.
Roll on yet more wonderful time together just beingtogether.

Message recieved from mother unit in Edinburgh in response to my statement that I absolutely want to be in Europe for Christmas. Or else:

"Ok got the message. Glad that someone is decisive in this family. We'll have a European Christmas. Dad is on the phone now and says he fancies the south of France with Aunt Julia and the Bontouxs. Look forward to having you at home. Bye for now ducks, love from Dad and lurve from Ma"

Oh. My. God.

I thought I was being an unholy whinging bitch when I emailed her back...and it turns out I was being *ahem*DECISIVE. I really must try this more often...Mum...I've decided...you're going to buy me a new car, and it's got to be an Audi...
Or maybe not.

But it is nice to be listened to, she probably recognised the signs of a daughter on the verge of a nervous tantrum.

I feel really homesick; at least I think that's what it is. My Mum is pushing for their visit this year to be at Christmas, rather than in the fall, with me going back to Edinburgh for Christmas as we have been discussing. I've been in the US for 9 1/2 months now, already the longest period of time I've ever been away from Edinburgh. Planning to be back there around Christmas meant it didn't really bother me, but if I don't get to go back then I probably won't be able to until Christmas 2003, it's when I can take the most time off in a block.

It's not just getting to be home, when we see each other at Christmas we don't get the chance to talk like we would at other times, everyone's busy with it being CHRISTMAS. I'd asked them to come out sometime in fall so that they could see the family here, and I could take them around San Diego a little, we could actually spend the ubiquitous quality time with each other and then be together again at Christmas anyway. There was also supposed to be a family do comprising my Dad's side of the family then, which would be the first time that side's done Christmas together, I don't know when that got dropped out of the running.

I just got an email from Mum which she signed off saying that it would, of course, be the "right" thing to do to see Granny at Christmas, and to let her know what I think. What I think is that I've told both my parents about four times that it's really important to me to get to be back in Edinburgh around Christmas, and if they come out in Fall then we get to see each other twice instead of only once, with the whole Christmas chaos making it harder to talk and catch up.

Home is not a place, it's people, but sometimes I get homesick just for the place. The city has already changed a great deal since the first time I came out to San Diego in 1999, it will never be how I remember it, that's just what happens with cities, but is it really that terrible to want to know I'll get to see it after two years, rather than after three?

Random Thought For The Day
I miss my black sheep mugs: it's only a set of plain and ordinary white stoneware mugs, each one with a sheep painted on it in monochrome, cute, fluffy white, innocent little sheep, with flowers next to them. Except for the sixth sheep, who is entirely black and spikey, with a cheesy demonic grin. He was MY mug.

I guess I'm having a somewhat domestic streak, and feeling the need to have all my belongings around me, unfortunately some of it still lives in Edinburgh. Perhaps this has been brought on by the realization of just how long it might be before I can actually afford to rent a place that is entirely my own, and is larger than your average broom cupboard that is.

If anyone reads this, and actually cares, please keep your fingers crossed for a certain Matthew M to get a certain position as a Navy Technical Instructor, he most certainly deserves the promotion, and it would mean he'd be able to get that nifty offroading bumper for his Xterra...

I read this article [>] yesterday, and it is still resonating with me, so I'm linking to it, and to the blog it came from.

Depression is something that doesn't just go away, but we learn to live with, around and through it.

~Ash, the depressive {but coping} faerie

Well, if I was glad we were limited to the weekends before, I now know I was justified in my reasoning: it would be way too easy to fall into living in each other's pockets, and neither of us needs/wants that to happen. Having seen him both Monday and Tuesday evenings, yesterday I felt like there was something missing. I got the impression he was feeling something similar too, though maybe not in the pathetic "I need a hug" way I was. I spent Monday night and much of Tuesday sorting through some of my own ghosts. It left me feeling scattered, and very grateful for his presence that evening, even though I spent a large portion of it talking to his Mom on the phone, trying to glean additional information, make sure she understands that Matt and I can't work magic on this one, while simultaneously reassuring her that all is not lost…

The past week and a bit has tired me out more than I thought it would, all in all the brother situation seems to be a LOT better that it could have been from what we'd been told, but the revelation that we hadn't been told everything at first threw both of us into a panic for a while. Neither of us can take responsibility for this young man's life, we don't have the time, energy or training to do it, all we can do is share our stories and hope that he sees his own way forward. I'm glad that my own experiences with depression can potentially serve to help another work his way out of the hole, but if he can't or won't do it himself there is nothing I can do to fix that. If there's one thing I have learned from the past few years it is that the only person I can look to for happiness and success in life is me, and that she's actually pretty good at getting me there.

A friend said to me last night "this will either make or break your relationship"and I agree, I've been continually pleasantly surprised by all our interactions, and how we've dealt with these new developments, both separately and together. I'm optimistic, but not counting my chickens. So far I've been maintaining an attitude of hopeful caution, and it's working pretty well for me. I don't know where this will all lead, I hope the path is long, and remains so scenic, but I do know that wherever it leads, I will be ok, and chances are I'll be more than ok. That girl in the mirror seems to be figuring out the dance steps pretty well as she goes.

WOOHOO!!

I get to go see the breeders [>]

Long live the LoFi semi-punks! Yeah, yeah, LoFi's a UK term for music, but it just fits.

Have been saved from black mood by entertaining and intellectual conversation with a fellow blogger.

Have been told that is's sexy when one says "vituperative"

Have also somehow reverted back to Bridget Jones style of writing.

I must be having an "English" day...

I need medication.

Good strong medication.

No, not for that, just a little muscle relaxant to convince the knots in my shoulders that it's not really a good thing to spend the day impersonating bad tempered bricks.

After a week of pointless b******t, what better than to give some exercise to the uninhibited side?

Inviting myself to stay over at Matt's, laughing like a maniac while barely escaping thwacking my head off the roof of his Xterra during an offroading trip (he likes to try to turn his passengers into giant human milkshakes by the end of the day) running through every random accent I can possibly think of in an (almost successful) attempt to make the Brothers Morrison die laughing...curling up by the fire ring on the beach until 1am...inviting myself for a second night, spending a good few hours flaked out on the floor reading/conversing.

Sometimes it's good to take a holiday from the ridiculousness of it all and escape intoreality.

Blah.

Yet again outside tensions took over the dynamic in our apartment. Here's hoping I get better at remembering to keep objective, and not let it get to me.

Still, considering the past couple of months, only getting affected once out of three is pretty good going for me, the incredable "it must be me" girl.

I may be a bug under glass, but it doesn't do me much good to continually worry about the eye above me, much better to get on with it and only worry about the eye when it become attached to a bug-squishing device.

It's generally not a good idea to bring up sensitive subjects at lunch, when people have to go back to work and be productive. I suppose it all needed to be said, eventually, but did you really think it WOULDN'T affect me? Am I over-emotional or numb from ignorance? I doubt I'm both. Just because I stopped crying to you about my past doesn't mean I no longer weep.

I guess maybe you hadn't noticed the slight distance I purposely put between the two of us, I'd be surprised if you didn't agree that it was needed.

I am glad you chose to bring up your side of things in person this time, it's very important to me to hear it first from the horses mouth when someone has a problem with me or my behavior; just don't assume you've seen the whole of my picture. Some things cannotbe displayed until they are nearly completely processed and settled. I learned that one from you, and it was a valuable lesson. You say I need to learn what MY part in all of this has been, I agree wholeheartedly and I already have some of it: my tendency to look to others to mend my problems. I'm trying my damndest not to do that any more, so it stays internal until I feel sure of something. People are sounding boards, nothing more, and I need to figure things out for myself and by myself, and that's just what I have been attempting to do.

So tell me when I hurt your feelings, but think really hard before you make a comment on my coping mechanisms or general mental health. Even if it just means waiting till the end of the day when I can have some down time after the conversation, that can make all the difference. Otherwise it leaves me feeling as though in your mind I really don't have any true emotions at all, I'm just a construct of behaviors in a noisy foreign packaging.

Having read Who Me?'s [>] post for yesterday, I feel the urge to add my own first memory, well two of them actually.

My first definite memory is from the summer when I was three years old, of the 3 month family hiatus in Davis, NorCal, which is the source of my terminally confused accent, after a summer in California I never shook the slight American accent that has been the source of many people's disbelief of my Scottish upbringing. Little snippets of being put down for a nap in the middle of the day, and my parents trying to make me submit to this childish indignity by telling me it was really a "siesta" which is something all sensible grown-ups do at that time of year. Hearing the older members of the family splashing about in the pool outside my window and thinking that sounded suspiciously un-siesta-like to me...

The other memory is of a song, and this is music pure and simple with nothing accompanying it, because this song was sung to me before I was born. My mother would curl up around herself and sing Summertime by Gershwin to her "bump". So I can't remember a time when I have not heard that song, it always speaks to me, and it explains my addiction to swing music in general, and Ira and George in particular.

I'm not entirely sure what this feeling is, but I think they call it closure.

The moment I realised I was hanging around for an apology that will neverbe forthcoming, I knew it was time to close that door.

I finally reached the point where I could determine between willful denial of the past and ridding myself of unneccesary weight, all it needed was a couple of hours tending to a fire.

It seems an oddly random time, though it actually makes a lot of sense to me, if you can't figure it out for yourself: you know where I live, and if you don't know where I live then you probably don't get to find out.

Funny, I didn't expect my bed to suddenly be firmer once it was hoisted onto a frame. I kept thinking I was sleeping in a hotel, only with my sheets. It finally felt like mybed this morning. I suppose I should have put my cards back under my pillow after construction but that might have led to some confusion on saturday night.

Dead horse.

Stick.

It can be fun.

Honest.

FRIDAY!!

Go faster damned slow clock. Don't even think about that whole going backwards thing, I know you've done it before...

Fitting rooms are bad for one's mental health. Being forced to examine myself and the fit of various items of underwear and/or sleepwear in great detail, aided only by poor quality fluorescent lights almost always leads to my body ceasing to look like a body, merely a random collection of unaesthetic curves and bumps.

If you stare at anything, eventually it loses an element of cohesive reality, who needs abstract art when everythingcan look like a piece of modern sculpture if you gaze at it long enough?

Yes, yes, I did attempt to buy a new bra yesterday, how did you guess?

The argument over the average wind-speed velocity of an unburdened swallow (african, not european) gets just a tadout of hand:

I'll bite your legs off! [>]

*snort*

Ovaltine Decoder Ring...

Go check out the new random blog I found.

You know it's not good when an Afghan Whigs line strikes a strong chord with a past relationship:

"And please allow me to present you with a clue: if I inflict the pain, then baby only I can comfort you..."

If you're wondering what that's all about, I've been thinking a lot about my past behaviour patterns, and I realised that though it is essential in a relationship to be able to depend on your partner when you need it, or to call them at 3am when you've had a bad dream and need a reality check, this cannot be the foundation of a healthy relationship, because it essentialy builds on weaknesses and insecurities.

It's hard to put a finger on why I'm so happy now, but a lot of it seems to come down to the fact that our relationship is based on conversation, friendship and mutual interests, besides remarkably similar life outlooks. On enriching an already pretty decent life, not on being the only thing that can bring happiness to an otherwise dark and dank existance.

I don't know what it was that made the other kind seem acceptable, beyond the fact that at first it genuinely did help...I just hope I never get back to that place again.

I got to "meet" his mom last night, I spoke to her for 1/2 an hour or so, mostly about the little brother, who I'm to be strict with too apparantly. A little about me too, I told her a few of my experiences that have parallels with what's going on with Mikey.

It truly sounds like he's a good kid, he's just really unhappy and mad at the world, and because he's young he's not come across the realization that yes, life is hard, but you won't do anyone any good by being bitter about it, you've just got to get on with it. So I guess our task (should we choose to accept it) is to give him a kick in the ass, but overall a positive outlook. Hrm. Kick him in the butt while smiling and singing cheerful tunes?

Who knows, it might just work...

I surprise myself sometimes. I don't usually think of myself as the kind of person who'll come round and do your dishes for you, maybe it requires the proper inspiration. Like having a boyfriend who essentially works 12-14 hours every work day (except friday, only 8 hours...practically a day off), then spends the weekends with me, making time for housework rather hard to find.

Poor sleepy bunny. Poor sleepy bunny who considered his place a "dump" when there was still more than 70% of the carpet visible. Good thing he can't see my bedroom back in Edinburgh, it's debatable whether it actually still has a floor under there.

And yes, feel free to "check for glow" I think I'm practically a neon sign right now.