So I think that the world has recovered sufficiently since my last blog to suffer some more… Not that people should or will pay attention to what I have to say – I mean why would they, I don’t have anything particularly wise to say and like most women I’m only talking out loud. I read once that Men talk to each other to resolve and women do it just to air, by and large I think that’s accurate.
Since I was a little thing I’ve always read, for a lot of the time I haven’t had anyone to do the airing with, I think that’s why I write, I’ve had I think about 12 blogs and there would be easily three to four times as much that I’ve written that was never posted, never read.
This isn’t something I regret, or something anyone else should, be thankful!
I’m going to be 33 soon and I feel calmer in my thirties, things still piss me off, nightmares still happen but I don’t hunger, I’m not cold or on the edge of destitution – haven’t been that for half my life now. I wish I’d become wiser – in a lot of ways I don’t feel any more learned in the ways of humanity than when I was a silly kid mixing potions out of what was under the sink in the name of invention.
I have a PhD now and a dog, she is by far the more wonderful thing and that last bit of paper I revived from my Alma mater seems more irony than anything.
Fortuna has smiled on me more than she has kicked me it seems but wisdom – that’s still illusive – so is a tool/potion/spell to quiet the dark thing that lives inside my head.
Week after next I’m going on a holiday – as opposed to what I do day to day which is nothing – to the block of land I purchased in Queensland – finally I will live somewhere by the sea which is never cold. If you’ve ever lived on the street it’s one of your personal horsemen you’ll dislike in particular.
I walk that place that isn’t built yet in my mind, two buildings joined by a continued slab of concrete with lots of glass, with a roof garden who’s drooping vines all but hide the place. I’ll have all the artwork I’ve collected over the years, my preposterously huge collection of books to finally read, and sea breezes to sweep me to sleep.
The drawings I’ve shown friends have elicited responses of awe but questions about coldness and starkness, most people like more wood and carpet, colour and furniture. I’m small and so is my dog, I want plain and easy to maintain, I’ve always loved concrete and the kind of buildings Mies van der Rohe would build. Why live somewhere beautiful and not see it? I’m not really fussed if people can see in – it’s not like everyone hasn’t seen me naked before.
I like the idea of living without clothes, if I had my pick I would have been a sea creature preferably one without a shell, they are too hard to shed and drag around with you.
Friends say they’ll visit but probably won’t that’s OK, I’m not good at keeping those and good at making them, at least casual ones. Though really I’d still like something to do, I’ll probably finally plant a decent garden and vegi patch. I’ll snorkel the rest of the time and the near by town has a few cafes and pubs. I’ll grow into that weird old lady in the strange house – actually the only thing I have to do there is age.
I thought about getting a motorbike and a boat, I don’t really like cars any more – they all look the same I’ll try make due with those, they are two holes in my off-grid plan, maybe in the future they’ll make those that’ll run off my solar.
There’s no real point to this, which is how I see most things.
Enjoy this rowdy band most music these days is boring and lifeless, hopefully that’ll be a reward for getting this far down this post.
Mammonelle 