December 30, 2005
I think the future is looking a bit more like Blade Runner at this point, but then again, I am a cynic.
2005 is nearly over. As I was walking into the village this morning to pick up some white wine I had a long think about what 2005 really was, and how it will go down in the annals of my dodgy memory. Although the adult years are easier to remember than the childhood years (and not just because I am getting old), I still forget a whole lot of shit as I go. Or, rather, it's all the shit I remember, which is part of the problem.
2005 didn't see the revolutionary changes that 2004 did. I didn't move into a new country, new job, new house, and all with a lovely new man. I didn't walk into an airport and head into a new life on the other side. I didn't bring my girls over from Sweden to live with me, and I didn't walk with wonder into Dream Job's office building for the first time.
But 2005 has a quiet goodness to it in many, many ways.
It has some serious suck factor, but some of the highs make the year.
The worst things about 2005? Has to be the job. No question about it, hands-down, what's-the-point-of-this-question, the job sucked a clown's ass. I survived it, I maybe even did well, but at the same time the job? Yeah. Not my life anymore. In 2005 I learnt that managers are not to be trusted, that no one gives a fuck if you work yourself to death, and that telecom still is a man's world. Having a woman in this man's world only has the same reaction as using a stick to stir up an ant hill.
It was also a turbulent year in the home market. After three failed sales, we finally lifted the great white elephant known as Angus' house in Brighton. There was much champagne, much elation, a bit of sadness on Angus' part, and a return to being able to sleep at nights.
We also had the Blackberries, we lost the Blackberries, had it, lost it, and now have it again. The bad news is the Blackberries is now in a unique English real estate situation called a chain. Chains are the bane of the average home buyer's existence. Say you own a house and want to sell it and buy a new one. Maybe you sell yours to a nice young couple who are selling their flat, and you buy a house from an elderly woman. The elderly woman in turn buys a house from a family moving to Spain, who can't move until they find a house in Spain. So all of us are waiting until each part of the chain moves on, we can't move into any propertt until it does and if any part of the links fail, the whole chain collapses.
We are in such a situation now. The woman selling us the Blackberries had arranged to buy a property. When the sale of our house in Brighton fell through in October, she therefore lost the house she was buying. Now that we are ready to buy hers she has to find another property to buy, but this process can take months and can result in all of us being in another chain.
In other words, we have the house of our dreams, but aren't likely moving anytime soon.
In terms of blogging, I think I am making progress to sitting my butt down and trying to write something down. I have low confidence, and on top of that am a bit lazy about writing long-term things. I also have to write in strict conditions-I tend to need to be alone, and I do better with no distractions. Blogging this year has become less of an "I MUST write 5 times a week" and more of a "Dear God, please let me have time on the train to write my next blog post" kind of activity. But I still love it, I still get a lot out of it, and although I visit other blogs daily I almost never comment, so please don't hold it against me.
In Blogland, I met her this year. She has become my drive-by buddy, my vent for infertility, and the one who seems to tolerate "Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld" with the greatest aplomb. I love her, even though she can wear lite tampons when the Period Fairy comes (did I mention to you, S, that I found a new type of tampon here, one called-I kid you not-extra super plus? It's like using a toilet paper tube stuffed with a bichon frise! I love the things!)
One of the greatest highlights this year is when I reached out and grabbed a therapist. Once a week I sit in a Scandinavian style loft, in the middle of an Edwardian neighborhood (the dichotomy, she kills me). Once a week I try to sort through the smoldering ruin inside of me. What I have found is that I am more profoundly damaged than I ever thought was possible. I have also found that with this therapist, I can be fixed, and if I can be fixed then I will no longer be an imposter among the living.
Someday, I can just be me.
Now that will be a hell of a blog post when it happens.
I travelled this year, to Hawaii, Egypt, France, California, Finland, and an all-expense paid number to Monaco, where I learnt that I can not only not gamble, but that I am in no way, shape or form a Versace girl. This year Angus became a certified diver, and the two of us, we love it. Up next is his daughter getting certified, and when his son is old enough, the four of us can see amazing things together. Our next holiday is coming up in February and we are aiming for warm places that we can dive, swim and snorkel in. When we return, I can't wait to start the nose sprays, as I think of that other childless woman who will be my partner in IVF every day.
2005 passed with a strong current of loving the norm. My two cats are so firmly entrenched in my heart and thoughts that they take away the still-daily sting of missing my dog. The cats drive me nuts, they try my patience, but I swear I'll maim the first person that hurts one of them and I'll enjoy doing so.
So 2005? I travelled on trains, I drank my Starbucks, I shagged my lovely Angus and I loved curling up on the couch with him. I forgave my father, gotten closer to my stepmother, and missed my grandfather. I fed the wild birds, I made killer risottos, and I loved this semi-normal life that I seem to have found. I stressed out before his kids visit as I want things to go well, but when they are here they are noisy, exhausting, and utterly and completely hilarious.
2005 is nearly over, and in thirty years when I think back on 2005, I hope to have one memory spring to mind:
Last night we went to our local curry restaurant, advertised as the county's finest (which, in my opinion, it bloody well is). We ate far too much curry and naan bread, we laughed and talked and had a brilliant evening, and as we walked back it was snowing. Angus picked up his son Jeff and carried him for a while, hugging him, the two of them smelling like korma and fireside evenings. Melissa came up to me, grinning, and linked her arm through mine. She demanded we skip home, and I showed her how to skip the Wizard of Oz way. We skipped home a la Dorothy and the Scarecrow, both of us giggling hysterically, the way lit by the twinkling tree lights of the homes on the cricket green, the chatter of Angus and Jeff beside us, and we left behind us complicated footprints in the snow.
Now that is a good 2005 memory.
Happy New Year, and I can't tell you how glad I am that you've been here, that the roller coaster of 2005 didn't have to be alone.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
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