a long time since writing.

--another old one I found, wanted to share it though, this would be from January or February. ---


I haven't written in a long time, a really long time! I don't know why, I just haven't found the motivation to sit down and put my fingers to the keyboard. Dealing with a computer so much at work that is so frustrating and pathetic I don't have much of an urge to get onto it when I get home. A lot has happened since I last typed though, many thoughts and feelings, ups and downs. We have gone on holiday to Australia and ended up seeing a bit of Singapore due to an unfortunate illness.

I have been thinking a lot, though I am not sure if it is more than normal I am actually getting somewhere with it. You know, like those great revelations that feel like the something from oh, I don't know... the past 10, 15 or so years of your life has suddenly been explained. I have been seeing a "counsellor" if you will to help me figure out a few things, it has helped a lot, though most of it I really knew it is making me think of it in a different way. Cognitive behavioural therapy. I am beginning realise how hard I am on myself.

One of the problems I had, though I honestly didn't think it could be solved as it is something I remember dealing with from a young age was death. Though I am sure it is an uncomfortable topic for many, it causes weird little mini anxiety attacks in me. If I am lying, it forces me to sit, if not stand up sharply, quickly. If standing, I must pace around... there is a pattern or stream of thoughts that flutter themselves through my head and they are triggered from nothing, often times quite the opposite, from pure bliss this horrible pattern emerges. I have come a log way on dealing with it, and I am beginning to understand some of where it stems from.

We were watching a movie the other night, the beginners... very cute and quirky, I would recommend you watch it. The story goes back and forth between what is "now" and the time leading up to his father's death. The main character makes a statement, it is just after the hospice worker gives him the news that his father has passed away. He talks about how quick it all seems to happen after that. His father is a life loving man, and the main character (the son) ends up in a relationship that made me realise how much alive it is that I feel, how in love, and how inspired by every moment.

Through the part described I realised something, what hospice meant to me, and how horrible and unfair I felt life was. For those that don't know, my best friend growing up lost her mother when we were in the 6th grade. I remember seeing it all unfold from the headaches to the hospital visits to the treatments and then to hospice, the funeral and figuring out life afterwards. You like to think that the old age of 11 or whatever it is you are in the 6th grade that you know so much, but looking back I realise that the only person I had known to die before this point was my papaw, and I didn't have much of a relationship with him. That was not how life was supposed to go, you aren't supposed to grow up without a parent and in a nice way, I now realise how much the whole situation really just pissed me off. I was the supportive friend though, and then I was the supportive role again senior year when another good friend lost her mother, between the two during freshman year I lost a friend that was my age. Senior year also held with it saying goodbye to my grandfather only to move into uni where thankfully things stayed calm. In grad-school it was then my uncle and once I was "an adult" finally in the real world, it was my mamaw. I know I have spoken about her before, if not several of them.

I realise now how confused it left me, how unfair I saw life and what a distorted it left me that it was somehow normal to lose people early in life. I am slowly learning to realise though that it isn't.

Christmas blues.

--Another old one I never published. --

I knew these days would come, the ones where Alex is at work and I am home alone. The previous two I have had were not too bad. Things have been looking up and they still are, I realise how fortunate I am to have so many things go right for me. I am so happy with so many things, I feel so comfortable in my own skin, and am in a wonderful happy relationship.

I am not sure why, but today was one of the most difficult I have had so far. Every facebook bleep that popped up from a friend brought me to tears. I was wrapping a few presents and couldn't stop thinking about my mom and I's annual Christmas shopping trip to Kansas City, the lights and bonding. I couldn't help but think of Christmas morning, and my parents, half-brothers, and Molly. And, not only because I am not there (other than Molly, I'm sure, she wouldn't go to my parent's without me there) but I don't think it will be anyone other than my parent's for Christmas this year. It will be the first time for them in at least 26 years, if not longer. I don't know if the boys were with them before I was around. That thought alone makes me pretty upset, which I am sure doesn't make much sense, I am not worried about my Christmas.

Alex does an amazing job at making sure I know how much he loves me and am supported by him, and we've been invited out by some friends for Christmas eve and then to Alex's family's house for Christmas dinner. I am confidant it will be a good day, though I have no doubt it will be a difficult one.

Anyway, that doesn't do much to explain why I am a blubbering ball of tears today. I honestly don't have much of a clue, but wouldn't mind it going away!

The trail of bikes...

--- Just going through drafts of blogs I never posted... so this one is from maybe around last summer (2011). I would also like to add a note that since this was written we have sold the last bike mentioned and he now has two new bikes, one that is built and "a piece of art" one that is waiting for further funding and space to be assembled. ---


Few people know the distance that bikes have travelled with Alex and then myself on our journey around the world. He began with a road bike which he rode often in Australia and found it a necessity to bring it to Canada on his move there (which lasted 10 days). He made it to Seattle with the bike, it was a pain to lug to the hotel, but we had it checked away so it didn't take up heaps of space. After leaving the hotel, he again lugged it to a bus which took him to Vancouver. From there, he left the bike with all intention of going back to get it or have Hilary (the friend he left it with, bring it or mail it down).

Upon our trip to Colorado and Utah, on our mountain biking adventure up a literal mountain on rocks bigger than houses he decided a mountain bike with his rugged tires is what he would need to cycle to work in London, it would be able to stand the elements better and go through the ins and outs of London traffic. So, we purchased a mountain bike in Aspen, loaded it in the car, and worked the luggage around it, taking it on the long drive back to Missouri.

We then asked Hilary to sell the original road bike and bring the bag (full of Hockey gear and Lord knows what else) with her when she came to visit us in Missouri. After being stopped and questioned at customs regarding the contents of the bag, the officials asking if there was a body in it (aptly it is named a 'Body bag") her informing them that no, it was sports equipment, no, not hers, someone else's. Accepting responsibility for what was in the bag, since it was not her own.. they let her come through. Once packing to move we again packaged the bike in hockey gear and vacuum packed bags of clothes and loaded it into the back of the truck along with the 13 other bags... once in St. Louis, we transported it to a friends apartment, then as she so graciously drove us at 5 am to pick up our rental car (ie. the biggest SUV they had, I think we had a Ford Explorer or something absolutely massive!) We went back to her place, and just get everything to fit, and began our drive to Newark New Jersey that was scheduled to take.... 23 hours, with a pit stop somewhere to too far from NJ for a few hours sleep. We check into our hotel at 6 something AM, leave our luggage stored away and catch a train into NYC. Upon leaving NYC after a few days, we then loaded all 14 bags, into the shuttle then into the airport, with a bit of assistance from the staff, onto another shuttle and off to Brooklyn Harbour we went. We now passed off the majority of the 14 bags to the men who would load it onto the ship, and put it in our state rooms for us. Once in our room for the next week, we tucked all pieces of luggage away as much as we could and enjoyed ourselves.

Upon landing in South Hampton UK we collected our luggage, had an interesting time getting it to the next transportation shuttle and pissed off a grumpy middle aged woman whom was not happy that she was asked ... by the bus driver, to move seats from her emergency exit (extra leg room) spot so the bike could go there, as it would not fit anywhere else. The coach took us to Victoria station, and Alex went to check in a few bags to ease the struggle, after proving that we still needed to deposit more bags for overnight storage, we lugged, painfully, stressfully the remainder of the bags up and down several stairs and escalators through several stations finally into a cab and out to Sid (Alex's great uncle... I think would be the actual relationship) whom was so gracious to let us stay with him for the first few weeks of getting our feet on the ground here in London. The next day we returned and made a similar, painstaking journey. I had bruises up and down my arms and legs... it looks like my husband beat me. Life flashed before my eyes on an escalator when the huge and heavy cricket bag I was in charge of transporting began to tip backwards and pull me with it to tumble down the long, sharp set of stairs. Luckily Alex was there to push the tumbling bag and myself back into up-right positions. But, we made it, bike and 13 other bags, then moved them all to our first flat on Finchley road, and now to our flat in Crouch End.

Alex then talked me in to him purchasing a road bike, because it would be much better for riding to work, save heaps on tube travel cards and give him a work out, I of course... was persuaded by my little law man. We locked the rough and tumble mountain bike up outside with a super thick cable lock, and made a spot for the new road bike (it's a piece of art you know) inside.

A few days ago, while I was in the kitchen doing dishes, Alex ran to take the trash out, and came in to inform me that the bike had been stolen, just like that... this thing that we had lugged to the other side of the world was taken from us, the cable cut with some crazy industrial scissors or something. Alex promises he isn't too bothered, that he has the one he really wants, and that we were asking for it by putting it out there, he says how it happens all the time. I am simply annoyed, as I HATE thieves. I am also annoyed, that I get crap all the time for the bags we brought... yes they were mostly filled with my clothes, but I have barely bought any since moving! Quite an accomplishment for me. Yet, I am very overly protective of these... the bike which now is gone, which took up so much space, which was so overly awkward... is now gone, and eh, no big deal! AH.... ah, all that I feel like I went through with this bike... and all the bikes for that matter! Let's all hope and pray that this one is with us for quite some time!

looking in.

I don't know what to call the problem that I seem to have, other than simply over investing, putting myself in it to much, or taking things to heart, whatever you want to call it... I do it, and too often for my own good.

It seems to come up in both personal and work lives, reviews, evaluations and well... just walking down the street. But I tend to put all of me, into all that I do, in turn... when someone sees it differently or worst points out something that I desire to change but cannot manage to make happen, it is all the worse. I try to look at it positively, to realise that they are not in my shoes so they don't really have the complete picture, but I still do get a little pain in my heart.

I know my life isn't perfect, my dog is absolutely insane, and my store is not absolutely ideal... but what in life really is, and if it were, would we be any happier? Would we realise it or is it part of human nature to be programmed to constantly think something is wrong? I am sure it isn't for everyone, probably just crazy ocd personality type A's like me.

It is easy to look at someone else, or something else and come up with a laundry list to improve, to change... but I do have to step back and realise that is healthy for people to do to me, for me and to realise just how small the things are that they are pointing out. It is because they feel like it is their job to do that, though their way isn't perfect either.

I have come to realise lately that I hold very high standards and "rules" not only for myself but for those around me, both people and things, basically everything. It is a bit freeing coming to this realisation, it really helps me to realise why I make some of the decisions I do. Why I feel a bit of inner battle when someone asks me if I wan to go out on a Friday night... usually it is because I don't really want to, but I feel like I should, then I don't have all that amazing of a time either because I simply am genuinely not having a great time or because I feel like I need to have a great time, thus putting myself under pressure to have a good time and in turn... not. It is a liberating feeling to realise that you can say no... and how wonderful it is to spend the time on your own, which I love doing.

That is one benefit of growing up as an only child. I don't feel like I need people around for me to enjoy myself, I don't need anyone else there to have an absolutely amazing time, which I think is a very good ability to have.

I hope everyone finds a bit of piece in their own lives, and realise that you can do whatever it is that you want to do... don't listen to the silly rules in your own head, go ahead and have chocolate cake as your dinner! :)

It all goes somewhere!

We have the Olympics around the corner, it feels like it has been next week, next month for almost a year now... everything is based on it. All focus is on the Olympics. I am sure it doesn't help that I work basically in the Olympic village, though I wonder what it looks like from the outside. The main village and the majority of the venues are in a place called Stratford. This is zone 3 of the London tube system. Without sounding too harsh, this area is ROUGH. I have debated multiple times about carrying my Louis Vuitton bags here. To be fare it is and has gone under a huge regeneration project, though the people, they are still the people. The ones that think Twinings is "Posh" tea (ps, it is not, it is cheap, I actually couldn't believe how cheap it was!) These are the people whom smashed my white company glass display jar at Christmas during a gang fight and who last week asked for Cinnamon... so I proceed to show them the teas with Cinnamon in them that we have. I asked loose tea or tea bags and she then told me, no it is like a long brown stick.... really people, it is called CINNAMON! you buy it at in grocery store, I suggested waitrose, though I am sure this is much too posh for my matching jumpsuit wearing customer as well. ah, the adventures.... though the piece of the Olympics that fills my mind the most are the threats, the terrorist attacks, be it on the shopping centre, the stadium or greater London.

There are plans to put several missile launching points throughout the city for any rogue air crafts during the time. The thing is, these missiles shoot down the plane, ok... so everyone on the plane doesn't stand a chance, though not only this, but they, whomever they are, they have a plan for these planes and missiles. They are planning "escape routes" for these issues.
The plane and missile have to go somewhere, obviously they are not choosing any prime spot in central London, so that leaves the surrounding towns, the bits of farmland around. To fathom the people sitting in board rooms choosing where to crash planes, where given each possible flight path they will try to bring it down as opposed to the intended destination initially selected by the "bad guys." It will all be very interesting to see how it all plays out, with any luck, we won't know where they have chosen to re-direct these rogue planes because there won't be any, there will not be any problems at all and we will all celebrate the blissful wonderful athletic display on our doorstep.

How do you say it...

I/ we have been thinking  a lot about our future, and what we want, what is best for us. The problem is trying to get your message across, and not offend someone. How do you say to someone you don't want to live where they live, that it is not your choice location... that you don't want your life to be the same as theirs, that you don't want to raise children the way they have, or are. That you don't approve of their food choices or their clothing choices or lifestyle choices, that to you, that is just not good enough.

I am not talking about anyone, anything or any place in particular, though  to everyone in a way. Now that everyone can know that we are moving, it seems to in a way be making this more difficult.

I know I am a picky person, I always have been, along with very opinionated and judgemental.  Though those who know me (primarily those reading this) already know this, and hopefully love me all the same.

I have decided that it possibly boils down to ignorance in a large part that I hold little patience for. Those who think they must have meat in their lives, let alone everyday, or worse as part of every meal, as Alex said it during our lunch today, they simply cannot cook. To my thought, they are just lazy, uncreative, and unadventurous. (Please know that if you are invited to my house for a meal, there is a large chance there will be no meat, if there is, it will most likely be seafood and if not, it is only because Alex has talked me into some meat for himself and our "guest"). The thing that bothers me more of those who are frequent meat eaters is when they don't value what it is that they are eating, that it as a life, and has now been made into a meal to nourish and sustain their life.

I also have little patience for people that simply put clothes on their bodies as they need something to cover themselves and for no other reason. Those who excessively consume be it food, product, appearance, etc... I do know that I used to be somewhat the same, shopping to shop and I could not be more happy to have changed. I still have a love for shopping, fashion and all things included in that area, but I look at it much differently now, which I am happy about.

Though, I digress as my big issue at the moment is explaining to the British (or people living in London, why it is we are choosing not to live here at the moment), the Australians why we are not choosing at the time to relocate to their wonderful island or the Americans why it is where are not choosing their specific local for our future home. To some, the Londoners and the Aussies, why it is that they are not our current choice. We tend to go to "we can't afford it." though, in reality it is not that, or not that in it's entirety. We  can afford to live there, we an afford to live anywhere we want to, but not to the standard of life we know we can accomplish elsewhere. We know we are capable of more and deserve more, so we will "demand" more of ourselves and of our lives. We refuse to settle or keep ourselves in a one bedroom flat lacking in closet space for too long, we could move to a two bedroom, especially when we wanted to expand our family, but that would make all other things more stretched, we could do some kind of house share, but when you look at what we grew up with, what we are used to, we would go mad. We didn't move to England to live in England, we moved here to live in London, to be at the heart of it all and really take in all that it has to offer.

It is all about finding the right amount of tact to try to say why it is we are making the decisions we are, trying not to offend anyone but not to beat around the bush so much that it becomes laborious. 

What makes you come alive?

One of my favourite quotes, "Don't ask yourself what the world needs- ask yourself what makes you come alive, and then go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. by Harold Thurman Whitman. 

What a thought, doing what really makes you come alive, day in and day out. Not having to fill other time with work, that feels like work. On a recent walk Alex and I were talking about work hours, and how someone we know works something like 12 or 13 hour days, consistently. To us, the thought is insane, though I know many other do it, my father included. But then it hit me, I would actually love to do this, I would love for "work" to be the things I love, and loved so much that it didn't feel like work. The person we had been talking about, unfortunately this is not the case, it is some stressful, highly demanding job, though that is not what we are talking about here. We often talk that we work to live, we don't live to work, life was not made for work... as they say I doubt someday you will look back at your life and think... I should have worked more. 

Far to often in life we don't ask ourselves what makes us come alive when considering which paths to take, we far too often ask questions like what makes the most money, what will advance my career the most (but to what!?!?), what would my friends and family be proud of me for doing? Do ANY of these questions really matter, only to some very small degree, don't get me wrong, I have expensive taste, and like a nice lifestyle, but I think if you are really doing something that drives you and makes you come alive, lights a fire and drive in you then it goes a long way. I guess that I am also fortunate that I think/ hope that the things that do this for me would bring in some form or another of income. 

So, I shall continue to push toward the goals of something, one of the many things that really makes up part of me, part of my inner fire.