As most people know, suddenly you become a parent, or pregnant for that matter and everyone and then some have unsolicited advice to give you. We've been told everything under the sun and then some, but have really stayed true to ourselves and our Henry, listening to his cues and what works the best for us as a family.
With Henry on a seemingly fast forward version of these childhood milestones I feel that he is understanding to some degree what we say, what we're talking about and his experiences. He will be one right before Christmas and thus begins talk of Santa, followed by the Easter bunny, tooth fairy, and so on. I first thought about it while pregnant, and suddenly developed a feeling on these creatures that I hadn't put much thought into before. Essentially it feels like lying, I know it is "tradition" and fantasy, imagination, and the like, but I can't help but feel like its lying.
I remember when I first realised that Santa wasn't the wonderful old jolly man that I believed him to be providing me with many presents a year as I was such a good girl. We were at my Mama's apartment in Dallas, I got into position for the night to slip into sleep on the floor, as I lay there fighting sleep with excitement of what Santa would bring in the morning I hear my half brother say something to our Dad about going to bring the presents in from the car, my interest was perked and my mind could not believe what it was processing. My parents had been imposing for years as the jolly old man coming down the chimney, they were eating the cookies I had so carefully put out! Ah the deception! I soon concluded that they may just be the masterminds behind other such characters I had never met in person. I waited an entire year before revealing that I was onto them, I was terrified. What if they were upset with me for knowing, or I suddenly wouldn't get as many presents because now Santa wouldn't visit, my teeth might no longer hold value if a mythical fairy didn't need to sneak into my room while I slept and swap out cash for my tooth. It was the first truly awkward conversation I remember having with them, it was looking back the first time I truly felt separated from them.
It is for these reasons along with others that Alex and I are planning on not playing up the hype of these characters, we'll let him know who they are, what other people might be talking about but that they are for fun, made up and not to seriously worry about a chubby man coming into our house on Christmas Eve. Most people we've spoken to about it seem to not have put much thought into it and have simply followed the cultural norms of sharing these stories. Though that isn't quite our thing. People say how here crushing his imagination, though I'm not too worried about that, I have an imagination that is probably too active for my own good, and Alex isn't lacking in that department either. We speak in made up voices and dream up alternate worlds, Henry has a tee pee in the corner of his room to crawl into with books, toys or whatever and hide away from the greater world. We will travel, experience and dream and believe. But what I don't want is for him to feel separate from us, that we are hiding something from him or ever would, he is one of us, part of the team and along for the ride of this crazy life with us.
I'm interested to hear other peoples opinions on this, and if anyone has tried this with their children or been a child who was raised in this manor, and what experiences have been.
Monday, 30 June 2014
Monday, 23 June 2014
Aspen... alternate world
As we approach our second year of living in Aspen, I'm not sure it's become any more "normal." It truly is a bubble, one that warps your perspective of so much of the outside world. What is a reasonable price to pay for anything? What does an "average" person look like, how does most of the world live? And, what's legal, what's not?
As I sit at this cafe drinking my coffee, the coffee shop just down from me has a double sided sign which reads: side 1: put some pep in your Prada wearing step. side 2: Coffee the second most preferred stimulant in Aspen. What is number 1 you might wonder.... cocaine. Not that it's legal here, but there is a blind eye turned to it, it is a glamorous drug after all. Not too many poor people adopt it as habit. We live in a state that has now made marijuana legal (which I fully agree with, make it legal, tax it and make a profit... people who are high are just getting fat, and being lazy, they aren't really hurting anyone). There are no open container laws, you can even have it on a bus, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who is overweight, poor, uneducated, much ethnicity (96.1% white as of 2012), or decently well travelled. The majority of the people here eat only organic, locally sourced food if not vegetarian or vegan, are democratic for the most part (during the last presidential election the republican headquarters was egged twice by young "unruly" locals). People don't lock their doors, tend to trust everyone, let their dogs roam free and party hard. We have festivals for everything, each season brings it's own annual traditions, it is truly the biggest small town you will find. Some how we have moved to some weird little blip in America.
It's all fine for a bit, though I don't want Henry growing up not knowing there is more out there, not knowing that there is pain and suffering, people who struggle to purchase food to feed their family, people of other colours and religions, different ways of thinking living and behaving. He has to see the absolute wonderful beauty in diversity and the differences in people. We plan to travel, and often if we do stay here well into his teenage years, push him to experience the broader world, and understand that all of this is not "normal."
We also live in a county that has alarmingly high suicide rates. It is often said that if you can't be happy here, you can' the happy anywhere. Though there is so much pressure here to be so much, and there truly is a great divide between the locals, the semi-locals and the visitors, even the visitors at different times of the year. Living here I know when the prices drop on the hotel stays, that is when people come to see Aspen, who couldn't afford to in the peak seasons. There are the semi-locals, where this is one of their 3,4,5 + houses. They often like to say they live here when you ask them, though most full time residents aren't as.. we'll say flashy or dismissive. Those who do live here year round, they are laid back, comfortable, as likely to show up to an event in head to toe yoga wear (likely lululemon) as they are in their Dior dress.
It is a truly unique area, evolving into a parody of it's self possibly to it's own detriment but only time will truly tell. Constantly trying to prove to no one other than the others here that it is something to be reckoned with.
As I sit at this cafe drinking my coffee, the coffee shop just down from me has a double sided sign which reads: side 1: put some pep in your Prada wearing step. side 2: Coffee the second most preferred stimulant in Aspen. What is number 1 you might wonder.... cocaine. Not that it's legal here, but there is a blind eye turned to it, it is a glamorous drug after all. Not too many poor people adopt it as habit. We live in a state that has now made marijuana legal (which I fully agree with, make it legal, tax it and make a profit... people who are high are just getting fat, and being lazy, they aren't really hurting anyone). There are no open container laws, you can even have it on a bus, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who is overweight, poor, uneducated, much ethnicity (96.1% white as of 2012), or decently well travelled. The majority of the people here eat only organic, locally sourced food if not vegetarian or vegan, are democratic for the most part (during the last presidential election the republican headquarters was egged twice by young "unruly" locals). People don't lock their doors, tend to trust everyone, let their dogs roam free and party hard. We have festivals for everything, each season brings it's own annual traditions, it is truly the biggest small town you will find. Some how we have moved to some weird little blip in America.
It's all fine for a bit, though I don't want Henry growing up not knowing there is more out there, not knowing that there is pain and suffering, people who struggle to purchase food to feed their family, people of other colours and religions, different ways of thinking living and behaving. He has to see the absolute wonderful beauty in diversity and the differences in people. We plan to travel, and often if we do stay here well into his teenage years, push him to experience the broader world, and understand that all of this is not "normal."
We also live in a county that has alarmingly high suicide rates. It is often said that if you can't be happy here, you can' the happy anywhere. Though there is so much pressure here to be so much, and there truly is a great divide between the locals, the semi-locals and the visitors, even the visitors at different times of the year. Living here I know when the prices drop on the hotel stays, that is when people come to see Aspen, who couldn't afford to in the peak seasons. There are the semi-locals, where this is one of their 3,4,5 + houses. They often like to say they live here when you ask them, though most full time residents aren't as.. we'll say flashy or dismissive. Those who do live here year round, they are laid back, comfortable, as likely to show up to an event in head to toe yoga wear (likely lululemon) as they are in their Dior dress.
It is a truly unique area, evolving into a parody of it's self possibly to it's own detriment but only time will truly tell. Constantly trying to prove to no one other than the others here that it is something to be reckoned with.
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
the rest of our lives...
There are posts to come before this, but they haven't been finished... so it will just have to go in this order and my writing will have to come from the heart.
I have been on maternity leave, had friends in town and right when it was time to start back to work, my mom came to visit... she left today, and it is now time to begin "the rest of our lives." Now it is time to sort out how we will manage as a family all on our own, working, living and managing life. To say I am freaking out a bit, might be an understatement... to say I have absolutely no clue how it is all going to come together, but just have to trust my husband when he reassures me that it will is the truth. Many people out there do it, part of the problem in my mind is that my friends don't seem to, either they don't have kids, or they don't work, or for the lucky few (ok 1) she works from home/ road and in road I mean running, where she can take her little girl with her or set up "babysitting" for an hour or two.
I wouldn't change a thing for the world, I love Henry, I love Alex, I love the amazing beautiful place we live. It's amazing to have family in Australia and the US, maybe I would change that bit though, as it would be nice to have a parental "support" network here. People who would more than happily steal my smiley little boy away for the night to allow more date nights.
When I first started maternity leave, I wasn't sure how I would manage. We moved, I worked on setting up our house. Then of course our little man came along (a few days late) and we got to know each other while continuing to paint and make our house a home... and then there were the friends, visitors, mostly foreign. Then came my mom... and now, our "empty" house. I thought I would be so bored, that the time would drag. I've never been much for doing nothing, I like to be active and have stuff going on. I thought I would for sure go stir crazy, which I did a bit. The day we got home from the hospital I may have begged one of my friends to go out for a walk with me. I HAD to get outside, after being cooped up in the hospital for 2 whole days, that was more than enough! But friends filled the gaps, projects abounded and I ended up really enjoying the quality time with my little man.
We'll make it and never look back, I know... just some "teething issues" I'm sure... to begin... "the rest of our lives."
I have been on maternity leave, had friends in town and right when it was time to start back to work, my mom came to visit... she left today, and it is now time to begin "the rest of our lives." Now it is time to sort out how we will manage as a family all on our own, working, living and managing life. To say I am freaking out a bit, might be an understatement... to say I have absolutely no clue how it is all going to come together, but just have to trust my husband when he reassures me that it will is the truth. Many people out there do it, part of the problem in my mind is that my friends don't seem to, either they don't have kids, or they don't work, or for the lucky few (ok 1) she works from home/ road and in road I mean running, where she can take her little girl with her or set up "babysitting" for an hour or two.
I wouldn't change a thing for the world, I love Henry, I love Alex, I love the amazing beautiful place we live. It's amazing to have family in Australia and the US, maybe I would change that bit though, as it would be nice to have a parental "support" network here. People who would more than happily steal my smiley little boy away for the night to allow more date nights.
When I first started maternity leave, I wasn't sure how I would manage. We moved, I worked on setting up our house. Then of course our little man came along (a few days late) and we got to know each other while continuing to paint and make our house a home... and then there were the friends, visitors, mostly foreign. Then came my mom... and now, our "empty" house. I thought I would be so bored, that the time would drag. I've never been much for doing nothing, I like to be active and have stuff going on. I thought I would for sure go stir crazy, which I did a bit. The day we got home from the hospital I may have begged one of my friends to go out for a walk with me. I HAD to get outside, after being cooped up in the hospital for 2 whole days, that was more than enough! But friends filled the gaps, projects abounded and I ended up really enjoying the quality time with my little man.
We'll make it and never look back, I know... just some "teething issues" I'm sure... to begin... "the rest of our lives."
Monday, 8 April 2013
Travel.
Last night we watched Argo, which was absolutely amazing, if you haven't you need to, and soon! Tonight, we are watching Zero Dark Thirty, I know the result will be much the same. I will be much the same. I/ we will want to go, go to these amazing places, and be angry and disheartened that we can't go, or feel like we can't due to safety concerns for a while. This is something that has angered me about so many places for a while. Being a girl, blonde, American, I feel like such a target. I am sure this is a combination of parental concern given mostly by my father since before I can remember, my own paranoia and the general media. I have friends from so many of these countries that I feel this way about. Most of them men, all of the absolutely wonderful. They have done nothing but shown me Love. So why is it that I am still so fearful to go to these places? Are those from Pakistan, Iraq, Iran, India and several countries in Africa, that I know the nice ones, I have a hard time believing they are the only ones. Are they more western thinking or open to women and women's rights? Possibly, they do live outside of these countries now. Though I really think it is a lot of the media, the fear that is spread when one little thing happens in these areas, especially if it is to an American or a woman. All I know is that I am beyond thankful for my friends, each and everyone of them and how they have shown me love and how beautiful their cultures are. I know my desire to go to these places won't go away, I want to go everywhere, experience everything... I mean why wouldn't you. I just hope that I have the chance to go, experience and enjoy these cultures for what they are! And again, thank you to all of those who show love, and not fear, even if it is chanting USA at me, you know who you are! :)
Friday, 5 April 2013
ourliveslived
I have recently decided to change the blog a bit.... I want to share more of the things we love, the foods we cook and what makes up our lives. I've managed to set up twitter @ourliveslived, tumblr: ourliveslived@tumblr.com, Pinterest, and instagram... Wish me luck! :) I have two helpers on my side this adorable little guy, Baxter shown with me here on our trek across the Atlantic and the love of my life... Alex, shown here at one of our favorite pubs in London, The Spaniards Inn (http://www.thespaniardshampstead.co.uk ). So, Keep an eye out for the happenings of our lives, let me know any thoughts, questions, really anything!
best,
Amy, Alex and Baxter
Ourliveslived
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
a visit
I don't think I have ever wanted to go... just be transported for a week or two so badly as I do now, to lovely jubly old London. If I could just wiggle my nose like Something from bewitched I would pop up in good ole London town... First I would probably stroll wherever I could find my friend Ilya, I know he would be on the adventure with me wherever I might go, We would then go to Twinings on the strand where I would hope to possibly surprise Natalia and visit Phil, Karen, Lucy, Mark and all of the wonderful people who are there, we could go to the sandwich shop around the corner, who's name escapes my memory.... i would choose tuna melt and it would of course be a sunny fabulous day where we would bask in the sun... I would go on to meet up with Karolina and Safina and tour whole foods kinsington, walk from there to Sloan street and buy baxter something from Mungo and Maud. Then we would go on to meet seriously every last person we love and adore at some shit but lovely up centrally, and hang out drink/ karaoke until we absolutely had to take a taxi home (Seema should know a great place). The next day Alex and I would some how make it to chili pepper jelly ( I can never get the name right) for breakfast, take a walk through the book shop and waitrose along with all the corner shops then pop into blue legume for a little dessert, before popping into jacks to get some cider to take back to Niall and David's where I assume we are staying..... where everyone could once again meet on the roof top garden and we could party until the sun came up. I must stop by the art shop in covent garden, cos on regent st., liberty, greensmiths, fortnum and mason, and hattchards and bond street! and another cocktail at the ritz and a run into cordings with ilya and see Chloe (whom I felt was my very first friend in London ever!) , churches on bond street.... make that everywhere on bond street, a mani - pedi with Desi wherever she recommends and whatever Lola says is the best new place in town. Catching up with Szabina and flat planet and Liberty with Kash, and trying to hold every list bit with me forever and ever until I can come back again......... I would do absolutely anything for this to be where I am going tomorrow... next week, anything... but I will wait, patiently, but I cannot wait to see you all again, so soon and soak up every last little bit of London that I can!
Friday, 7 December 2012
longing for a memory...
We have been here in Colorado for a few months now and are settling in well, we both have jobs and are making friends. The quality of life is amazing, there is little stress and so many of the things that we longed for in England. We can finally buy the appliances we want (I realise this sounds ridiculous, but it is a sign of settling.) I know that we made the right decision, I know that this is beyond right for us.
Though there is still a bit of impossible longing somewhere deep inside. It isn't that we moved from the "big city" as so many people around here to think it is. There are very few places we would even consider living back in the US and the roaring fork valley won... we moved here because of exactly what it is. It is slow paced, and adventurous, it is active and cultural. It is the biggest small city ( I'm not even sure if it can be considered a city, it's really more of a town) that that I know. What it isn't and what it can't be... is simply put London. I was far from enjoying my every moment there and realise I look back on it with only the fondest memories. It was the first that was really my own, our own. It was where Alex and I began to make a life for ourselves and even added the best puppy ever to our family. We conquered it together, truly!
London holds within it so much to me, things that cannot be explained. I miss the transport and the views, the cafes, the friends and how they are from all over the world! I miss the chaos and the calm, the passion and the apathy, roof top gardens and the parks... oh the parks be it sunbathing, picnicking, and drinking in them. I miss the culture of each borough and how individual and similar they all were. The beauty in the ordinary and the freedom to be. I miss being where all the magazines were focused on and what felt like the centre of the world. I miss Mo Farah and Paula Radcliffe, Fortnum and Mason, Liberty, and all that as there, all that was history. Oh, and I miss the ease of travel, the great sense of adventure with so many countries and continents all being so close.
These along with many other things are what I miss and thus what I remember. I don't remember the bad, which I am glad. I do force myself to recall the troubles and trials to remember why we left and acknowledge decisions made.
I miss London and cannot wait to go back and visit it along with all of our other favourite places but I am truly happy for our decision to live here.
Monday, 17 September 2012
Everything is bigger in... Texas, no... America!
We landed on U.S. soil and it didn't take long before we noticed some real size differences. As we were waiting on my parents to pick us up from the terminal (we arrived into Brooklyn via boat, the Queen Mary 2.) We knew there would be a bit of a delay but had no idea how long it would be. As I had an unrelenting headache and the start of hunger pains were starting to set in Alex set off to find relief from both. He shortly returned with: 1-diet, 1- tuna sandwich, 1- bottle of beer, 1- New York times, 2- pain relievers. Immediately I grab for the med's and coke to wash it down, the coke though didn't quite sit in my hand as I was used to, it was larger. No, he hadn't picked up some liter or sharing size or anything, it was the "normal" standard grab and go size. We began to eat some of the full meal size of tuna sandwich which we could happily share as Baxter tried to get in on the action too. We made our way to Missouri over a number of days with supersize meals, cars, drinks and I am sure many other things along the way.
Once back to Missouri we took upon an adventure to go grocery shopping with my mom. Here we were astounded by the supersize veggies, fruits packages and bundles of foods. My mom really only drinks decaf coffee, Alex has a ritual of caffeinated coffee every morning. So, while we were at the store she was sweet enough to pick up some full coffee for the house. She picked up a jug (yes, literally a jug) of coffee that was larger than my head. She then remarks that it used to be bigger and began searching for the larger container of coffee. Why on earth someone would need a larger container of coffee that was not a business was beyond us, though that is the norm here... lots of stuff, and big.
Once back to Missouri we took upon an adventure to go grocery shopping with my mom. Here we were astounded by the supersize veggies, fruits packages and bundles of foods. My mom really only drinks decaf coffee, Alex has a ritual of caffeinated coffee every morning. So, while we were at the store she was sweet enough to pick up some full coffee for the house. She picked up a jug (yes, literally a jug) of coffee that was larger than my head. She then remarks that it used to be bigger and began searching for the larger container of coffee. Why on earth someone would need a larger container of coffee that was not a business was beyond us, though that is the norm here... lots of stuff, and big.
Friday, 14 September 2012
Fresh Veggies
We have been hit with a few culture shocks since moving back to the U.S. I will later post as to why we moved back but also several of these instances on later posts but the one most on my mind at the moment is the overwhelming generosity and friendliness of the people here. I find myself being a bit of a cynic though have been fighting the urge to doubt the authenticity of some of the kindness but for the most part it seems pretty legitimate.
We stayed with some friends for the first week we were here, they have a garden and we have been beyond blessed with fresh vegetables straight out of the ground. They also have some cattle that they kill and sell once a year which they gave Alex some of the meat to try. Another girl that we have just met last week that lives in the building of lofts next to ours kindly dropped off Alex's hoodie that we left at their place during a party the other night along with a heaping back of fresh vegetables from her garden. We have been eating some wonderful dishes inspired by what we are receiving from very generous friends.
Other than that, the entire population almost seems to be on something in comparison to London. Everyone smiles, offers assistance and goes out of their way, to help make your day that little bit better. I have even tried to get mad about things. For example, someone is in our parking spot, we have a parking garage below our building with secure parking and assigned spots to coordinate with your loft. Someone has been in ours since we moved in. Granted it has only been 3 days now but it is annoying none the less. They first told us to park in guest parking though at times this has been full, forcing us to park in handicapped parking in fear of throwing the system off balance by taking someone else's individual assigned spot. I felt very uncomfortable about this and marched in to tell the guy whom we rented from that something must be done. He was not worried, "oh, just go ahead and park in 212." Today I see that there is a note on our car from 212, kindly asking us to move as they have moved in and need their spots. I again march in, beyond annoyed, as now I look like the bad guy and and ready to give this guy a piece of my mind. Again, he calmly says it was his mistake, he will apologize to them and that I was to park in 214. This would have not been the response I would have gotten in London, at least not from our letting agent or managing company.
I am slowly getting used to this new kind wonderful world, but things are looking pretty good!
We stayed with some friends for the first week we were here, they have a garden and we have been beyond blessed with fresh vegetables straight out of the ground. They also have some cattle that they kill and sell once a year which they gave Alex some of the meat to try. Another girl that we have just met last week that lives in the building of lofts next to ours kindly dropped off Alex's hoodie that we left at their place during a party the other night along with a heaping back of fresh vegetables from her garden. We have been eating some wonderful dishes inspired by what we are receiving from very generous friends.
Other than that, the entire population almost seems to be on something in comparison to London. Everyone smiles, offers assistance and goes out of their way, to help make your day that little bit better. I have even tried to get mad about things. For example, someone is in our parking spot, we have a parking garage below our building with secure parking and assigned spots to coordinate with your loft. Someone has been in ours since we moved in. Granted it has only been 3 days now but it is annoying none the less. They first told us to park in guest parking though at times this has been full, forcing us to park in handicapped parking in fear of throwing the system off balance by taking someone else's individual assigned spot. I felt very uncomfortable about this and marched in to tell the guy whom we rented from that something must be done. He was not worried, "oh, just go ahead and park in 212." Today I see that there is a note on our car from 212, kindly asking us to move as they have moved in and need their spots. I again march in, beyond annoyed, as now I look like the bad guy and and ready to give this guy a piece of my mind. Again, he calmly says it was his mistake, he will apologize to them and that I was to park in 214. This would have not been the response I would have gotten in London, at least not from our letting agent or managing company.
I am slowly getting used to this new kind wonderful world, but things are looking pretty good!
Saturday, 28 July 2012
Feelings building visions...
I have these visions. OK that sounds weird, but it's not as weird as that sounds.... I mean when I have some feelings I see some almost cartoon version of these feelings being acted out at times. There are really three main ones.
I remember the first, I had when I was younger... I grew up having two step brothers that lived far away, and though they often promised they seldom visited (at least that was my feeling, but I am not sure that it would have ever been enough, I craved their attention.) My dad was also gone often, he travelled with work and would be gone for month's at a time. He often came home by surprise which was sometimes wonderful and sometimes scary dependent upon the method of surprise. At this stage in my life I often envisioned one of these wonderful men in my life appearing down a street, me running toward them, them running toward me and a wonderful embrace with them picking me up and swinging me around. This happened, at least in my memory when I was between 8-12 probably, at least in my memory, but it was wonderful.
The one I seem to have more often than not is of someone pulling me by the feet, my face down, nails most likely dug into the floor/ground. There is probably some combination of kicking, screaming and tears. Though it is usually not all too dire as I know that the things that bring this feeling on are usually things I want but am scared of. It is what I see often before a flight, I don't remember if it was there before the move to London, but it sure is there now... daily.
I know that I want to move, I know that I am excited, but it is difficult to see that at times. I absolutely love London, beautiful, rainy, overcast, chaotic, diverse and unexplainable London. I have loathed and loved it in these two years and now that it is coming to an end I have very mixed feelings. I am very glad to say that there are not any days that I am at my breaking point, that I just can't wait to get out of here. This is for the best, as it would be a horrible feeling to leave hating London. Samuel Johnson speaks true, though I feel we are intellectual, and that is why it is time for us to leave, at least for now.
"Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
— Samuel Johnson
If you have not visited this wonderful city, like so many wonderful places you are truly missing out, though even at visiting, it depends how deeply you dive into the city to find the pieces that have grown the dearest to my heart. The places that remain on my list to go to again, after I go to them time and time again.
I remember the first, I had when I was younger... I grew up having two step brothers that lived far away, and though they often promised they seldom visited (at least that was my feeling, but I am not sure that it would have ever been enough, I craved their attention.) My dad was also gone often, he travelled with work and would be gone for month's at a time. He often came home by surprise which was sometimes wonderful and sometimes scary dependent upon the method of surprise. At this stage in my life I often envisioned one of these wonderful men in my life appearing down a street, me running toward them, them running toward me and a wonderful embrace with them picking me up and swinging me around. This happened, at least in my memory when I was between 8-12 probably, at least in my memory, but it was wonderful.
The one I seem to have more often than not is of someone pulling me by the feet, my face down, nails most likely dug into the floor/ground. There is probably some combination of kicking, screaming and tears. Though it is usually not all too dire as I know that the things that bring this feeling on are usually things I want but am scared of. It is what I see often before a flight, I don't remember if it was there before the move to London, but it sure is there now... daily.
I know that I want to move, I know that I am excited, but it is difficult to see that at times. I absolutely love London, beautiful, rainy, overcast, chaotic, diverse and unexplainable London. I have loathed and loved it in these two years and now that it is coming to an end I have very mixed feelings. I am very glad to say that there are not any days that I am at my breaking point, that I just can't wait to get out of here. This is for the best, as it would be a horrible feeling to leave hating London. Samuel Johnson speaks true, though I feel we are intellectual, and that is why it is time for us to leave, at least for now.
"Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
— Samuel Johnson
If you have not visited this wonderful city, like so many wonderful places you are truly missing out, though even at visiting, it depends how deeply you dive into the city to find the pieces that have grown the dearest to my heart. The places that remain on my list to go to again, after I go to them time and time again.
Wednesday, 13 June 2012
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.
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!
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!
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 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! :)
Sunday, 10 June 2012
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, 3 June 2012
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.
Saturday, 28 April 2012
Visit "home" ?
Stepping foot back on US soil for the first time in a year and 1/2 was... interesting. I am not sure what I was expecting, I think Alex knew from his experience that it would be different.
I can't say it was good or bad, though it was, very very different. I cried, every day, I don't think anyone knew other than on Sunday, my birthday, though it didn't feel much like one. I am notoriously a birthday princess, everyone around me did everything in their power to make it a great day, but I was leaving the next day, and not with my best friend (Alex). I can't say I always cried because I was sad, or happy, it was a range.
I cried when I landed, I was relieved to have made it, the first time I had flown alone in a long time let alone without Alex! I cried when I played with Riley the first time, She has gotten old, has a limp and a deep breathing rustle in her lungs. She tries and still shows so much love, and it simply brings my heart to crumbles. At night I saw something in the yard, when I asked my mom about it she told me that was Fagin (our dog who passed away a few months ago) grave, she then hesitated and began to say something about the space next to it, she didn't finish, though I knew what she was saying, it was a spot reserved, for my precious baby Riley. She was a present to me for Valentines day my senior year of High school, a perfect surprise though I had been badgering my parents for a yellow lab for months. I love her and always will, her health does concern me, though to me, she was still my Riley racing me down the drive way on our mini jogs.
Again the tears came as I was so happy to see friends so happy to feel that people understood me and I didn't need to explain myself at every turn, these people know my style, parents, dreams and desires, they know my family and most importantly they love me because I am simply me. I realized this was what I was missing, this is what I longed for a desired with every bit of me. Through College I had arguably more guy friends than girls, though the guys have moved away or married girls who seem to not want to allow our pure and deep friendships to continue (this is a whole different issue). Though i realized it was my girlfriends I missed the most.
I also cried because I felt like I didn't fit, and I realized that I was truly a bit confused. I don't feel like I fully fit in London, nor do I in the US, or at least Springfield/ Kansas City, Missouri. Organic product was beyond difficult and awkward to find. So much of what I eat and care about is with organic food and produce, we recycle, a lot, I forgot how sparse the recycling efforts were, I walk everywhere (or take public transport) though quickly I wondered why someone was walking around Springfield, what a foreign image that is. Times when I need flour and milk, bubbly water (also really difficult to find!) I hate not having a car, and walking it home, though I try to think of it as a workout instead of an annoying inconvenience. I forgot the farmers market only took place on designated days, meat eating is everywhere accompanied by convenience and artificial food. I actually went so far as to take photos in Target so I could show Alex the horrible things I had encountered.
I left longing for England with the feeling my wonderful friends and family gave me. I love not having to "work" at friendships and things coming naturally, knowing history, joys and pains of one another and being able to be brutally honest. I felt it a bit in Australia, that overwhelming feeling of belonging and acceptance, though it wasn't really for me, it was for Alex and I got to benefit by default, the people there don't know me, but they still love me because they love him.
I guess this is a result of being so spread out, bits of my world now being sprinkled across the globe pieces of my heart around the world.
Wednesday, 25 April 2012
Someday... I'll laugh...
There are times that we look back at in life, and just laugh, at either our ignorance or sweet innocence or pure bliss, hard times, great times, there are millions of reasons. It is one thing when you do it, another when you know you will look back at your present time and not be able to do anything other than simply laugh.
I know this is one of those times in my life, it hit me as I was on my hands and knees again, it seems to happen a lot these days. Sweeping... we don't have a vacuum, we don't have a log handle mop, or broom ( I do at times borrow the building one that is left out sometimes.) I had already scooted my way around the living and dining room along with the kitchen, the bedroom had been hit and was onto the bathroom (our last room), wedged between one of Alex's bikes on the turbo trainer, the toilet and a storage stand I stretched to try to get the last bits of Baxter hair from our floor. That was when it hit me, once again telling myself that I could not wait until we had a vacuum of our own (I do have the exact one picked out). For various reasons we have not purchased one in the UK yet, some people out there understand more of why... others not but either way, I look forward to blissfully vacuuming around every other day with a beautiful purple ball trailing behind me. It really is the little things!
I know this is one of those times in my life, it hit me as I was on my hands and knees again, it seems to happen a lot these days. Sweeping... we don't have a vacuum, we don't have a log handle mop, or broom ( I do at times borrow the building one that is left out sometimes.) I had already scooted my way around the living and dining room along with the kitchen, the bedroom had been hit and was onto the bathroom (our last room), wedged between one of Alex's bikes on the turbo trainer, the toilet and a storage stand I stretched to try to get the last bits of Baxter hair from our floor. That was when it hit me, once again telling myself that I could not wait until we had a vacuum of our own (I do have the exact one picked out). For various reasons we have not purchased one in the UK yet, some people out there understand more of why... others not but either way, I look forward to blissfully vacuuming around every other day with a beautiful purple ball trailing behind me. It really is the little things!
Monday, 27 February 2012
The battle of my heart...
I don't think a day goes by that I don't swing from one end of the pendulum of my heart to the other. I have had some of the hardest years of my life, I fully believe that they will only get better, but they have not been bad in the normal sense. They have been necessary, rewarding, amazing and the actualization of my dreams. I for some reason always had this deep desire to really have to watch what I spent to decide between "dinner" or vogue.... It still thank heavens has not been so desperate, though not too far off. I feel that it has made me into a different person, a person I like much more, and one that is much better for the world as a whole. We have come a long way in our time in London, from calling on both sets of parent's (thank God for them!) for aid and assistance and transfers to be able to get a flat or to be able to have both a "Thanksgiving" meal as well as the ability to keep our ell phones on in hopes of getting a job in one case and a better job in another.
We eat well, really well, but not because we spend much, because we put thought and planning and we dress well, but it is mostly items we have had for years. We are truly happy, we have traveled a lot and we have bonded and grown and loved a lot.
I still battle in my heart every day though as to where we are to live. Where is to be our home, to fully settle and expand our family. Due to our past and our passions I am not fully sure that this battle will ever fully disappear though I pray that I get more used to dealing with it or that it settles a bit. Who knew that so many options would make life so much more complicated.
I cannot say that I truly know where it is that I want to be, at least not on a consistent basis. I miss the states like I would have never believed. I have realized a few things considering the U.S. I am truly myself, and this is both somehow simultaneously so dissimilar to the stereotype (thought others may disagree) yet so much the same. I miss the holidays, all the silly little holidays, and the over the top celebration of them, though I am so happy to have added in English and Australian holidays as well. I know I am like some in the U.S. though not the majority (these thoughts shall remain for another time). I miss my friends though I am not ignorant enough to believe that I would be happy there, where I was for the past few years, not all of my friends live there anymore nor did I want to remain. Things change, people grow up and move on. We develop into ourselves more and more.
I love London, I love being in the heart of it all, that our Lonely Planet magazine is focused on travels out of London each month, that we have multiple airports and feel simply at the epicenter of it all. Fashion week is at my backdoor, premiers are around every corner and the olympics are at my place of work.
Australia, ah what is there to say, there is a reason that people flock there, and dream of visiting there their entire life. It is amazing, the weather is wonderful, the vibe... casual, the food great, the beaches and wildlife beyond compare. Not the easiest travel to various other destinations other than Asia or New Zealand though it is a tough contender on the absolutely amazingness of it. I might be a bit biased as I lived a wonderful life while there, one that we could not obtain for a long while, though it is beyond words.
I hate and love that I cannot say I choose one country, that I hands down favour one over another or that I will not miss and regret and long to visit any country out of at least these three that we could easily live in. There are other options, the rest of the EU, though language barriers make general living more difficult, though there are several of these countries and cities that hold very special places in our hearts.
Today was a day more than ever that I felt this battle, there are some problems that are good to have, and this is one, though it is difficult to always feel that way, to hold a positive train of thought and not allow the emotions to overrun.
Feel blessed where you are, and appreciate it, love those around you and cherish your friends all around the world, it just makes more places to visit and more people to see, it makes the world seem that much smaller and it really makes the world your oyster.
We eat well, really well, but not because we spend much, because we put thought and planning and we dress well, but it is mostly items we have had for years. We are truly happy, we have traveled a lot and we have bonded and grown and loved a lot.
I still battle in my heart every day though as to where we are to live. Where is to be our home, to fully settle and expand our family. Due to our past and our passions I am not fully sure that this battle will ever fully disappear though I pray that I get more used to dealing with it or that it settles a bit. Who knew that so many options would make life so much more complicated.
I cannot say that I truly know where it is that I want to be, at least not on a consistent basis. I miss the states like I would have never believed. I have realized a few things considering the U.S. I am truly myself, and this is both somehow simultaneously so dissimilar to the stereotype (thought others may disagree) yet so much the same. I miss the holidays, all the silly little holidays, and the over the top celebration of them, though I am so happy to have added in English and Australian holidays as well. I know I am like some in the U.S. though not the majority (these thoughts shall remain for another time). I miss my friends though I am not ignorant enough to believe that I would be happy there, where I was for the past few years, not all of my friends live there anymore nor did I want to remain. Things change, people grow up and move on. We develop into ourselves more and more.
I love London, I love being in the heart of it all, that our Lonely Planet magazine is focused on travels out of London each month, that we have multiple airports and feel simply at the epicenter of it all. Fashion week is at my backdoor, premiers are around every corner and the olympics are at my place of work.
Australia, ah what is there to say, there is a reason that people flock there, and dream of visiting there their entire life. It is amazing, the weather is wonderful, the vibe... casual, the food great, the beaches and wildlife beyond compare. Not the easiest travel to various other destinations other than Asia or New Zealand though it is a tough contender on the absolutely amazingness of it. I might be a bit biased as I lived a wonderful life while there, one that we could not obtain for a long while, though it is beyond words.
I hate and love that I cannot say I choose one country, that I hands down favour one over another or that I will not miss and regret and long to visit any country out of at least these three that we could easily live in. There are other options, the rest of the EU, though language barriers make general living more difficult, though there are several of these countries and cities that hold very special places in our hearts.
Today was a day more than ever that I felt this battle, there are some problems that are good to have, and this is one, though it is difficult to always feel that way, to hold a positive train of thought and not allow the emotions to overrun.
Feel blessed where you are, and appreciate it, love those around you and cherish your friends all around the world, it just makes more places to visit and more people to see, it makes the world seem that much smaller and it really makes the world your oyster.
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