30pictureschallenge: Day 9

this mug reminds me of a pillowcase i saw recently, in an article about tavi gevinson where they put in some photos of her in her room. the pillowcase in question has "here you will dream of endless kissing" on it, and i sort of wish it was mine.

i have a bit of a love-hate relationship with love. wait, hear me out. i'm a reader and sometimes a writer (a lover and sometimes a fighter) and so the concept of love to me is sometimes that it's a thing of power and awesomeness, like all you need is love... like the moulin rouge guy, wasshisname mcgregor (kidding- love ewan and all of his accent and face). maybe it's the first parts that come with being in love that i love so much. the parts where you're bulletproof and giddy.

i don't love in halves. when i love a person, that's basically like saying, i really like them quite a lot. i could write poetry and songs and let's face it, drop them into blog entries as much as i can.

or i have in the past, anyways. but after this last particular failed relationship, i can't help but feel a little suspicious of love. like love is a bit of a tricker and a heartbreaker. i suspect that i'm overly enthusiastic about being in love, and that probably what i should do is just chill the fuck out and play it cool, let love sneak up on me, impress me, buy me flowers. oh wait, that's not love - that's just a nice boy.

i've managed to date a whole collection of people who may have, collectively among them, bought me flowers 3 times in an accumulative total of 7.5 years. i am clearly picking the wrong people, and those people are picking the wrong flowers (by that i obviously mean: no flowers at all). i've always hoped for them, much like i've always hoped for commitment and a little emotional maturity, and yet here i am, me, the friendly blogger, without flowers or commitment or any of those things of the fairytales.

it's a tricky thing though, because even after all that whining, i'd take the endless kissing dreamt of on a special pillowcase, or the warm coffeecup kisses. i'd take them and run away with them, all the way to a dream place full of adult men with aspirations and goals, flowers, and -let's face it- failing actual facial hair, at least the ability to grow some.

love, huh? tricky bastard.

30pictureschallenge: Day 8

i would like some 'be cool' cupcakes. i reckon they would make me cooler. as long as they were gluten free, otherwise they'd just make me sick in my tummy.

if it was as simple as eating a cupcake or two, imagine how much cooler the whole planet would be. no conservative, money-grabbing politicians. probably everyone would bike everywhere, or drive renewable energy cars. there'd probably be no plastic bags, no clothes would ever need ironing. women would work alongside men in the highest-paid positions; men and women would be able to take paid time to care for their kids when the need arose.

you could walk down the street in the dead of night in the highest heels and the shortest skirts (if that was your thing, because i prefer knee-length and flats, and i want to be cool too) and not worry about being safe. you could leave your kids in the hands of pretty much anybody and know, for sure, that they'd take care of your children.

if everyone would just eat a 'be cool' cupcake, it wouldn't even be a thing that some people look different to other people, some are fat and some are thin, some speak different languages and have different beliefs. that would be fine, and merely a point of conversational interest at the table. countries would help each other out, and no leave people floating about in the sea on boats, pretending they don't exist.

there'd always be allocated sleep-in days, and plenty of good coffee to go with those cupcakes.

man, it would be good, if everyone would just be cool.

secret: the wistfulness that comes with illness

For some reason, whenever I've been sick a few days I start thinking about doing all the things I want to do that I haven't done for ages. 

Today I really want to play some guitar and sing a little. But I have a whopping great head cold. And I haven't played for so long that my calluses are gone and my memory has rusted.

I'd like to learn some new songs, or maybe even write a few. Build up those calluses in time for summer, and travel the country with a guitar and a ukulele and some good company, a bottle of wine and a bottle of whiskey, in my little van and some sand in my shoes.

I'd be playing "Young Man in America" by Anais Mitchell.

secret: the start of the list

some things on my list- are they so much to ask?

someone who gets it

Someone who laughs at/with me

Someone who can read

Just what it says on the box

Someone who makes me laugh

Someone who makes creations for me, including paper flowers

Someone who's ok with their sensitive side/can knit scarves

Someone who makes my heart go all giddy and ridiculous

Someone who can Adventure

Someone who can make a bit of conversation

secret: all i want

it's true, really, if i break it down. in fact, i think it's the secret to humanity *cue brain exploding in glorious realisation*

i have some love and i have plenty of good music; new favourites and old.

all i'm missing at the moment is sleep. i want it, in my ears and eyes and all over my body and all up in my brain. a warm cocoon of peace and safety and happiness.

that's not all i want, but it would do, for now.

treasure: the good times, the better times

Can I just offer up a little "yikes, sorry!" for the months of silence? I've been reading back to myself the type of writing I was doing this time last year, and for the year before that, and I feel a little wistful and disappointed in myself for dropping the blog-ball (it's not really a bouncy ball, more a slightly slippery one with a mind of its own).

I'm quite proud of the various bits of nonsense I posted here while I was in Whistler last year and for the years before that. I guess Life As Vacation lent itself a lot more easily to blogging, but perhaps that's not an excuse. I'd like to think I still have some things to say, but sadly just now I do not know what they might be. I have a few more hurdles to jump, like the not being incredibly angry that things didn't work out how I wanted hurdle (I seem to have to battle with this hurdle once every year or so), as well as the make peace with the situation and be patient while you set yourself up for something more exciting hurdle.

Patience is a virtue I hear, (or a vulture, depending on what your subconscious makes your fingers type) which is a struggle for the not-particularly-virtuous (that would be me). I just want to go somewhere, and soon. Honestly I really would be running to escape my head, and the funny thing about the head is, it's attached to the body (traditionally, anyway) and so no matter where I go, or how I get there, there my head will be when I arrive.

So I'll bide my time, save my pennies and hope that by the time I do hit the road, I'm not so caught up in myself that I miss the view, the people sitting next to me, the myriad of funny things that make for good travel writing. This is the goal.

More to come on plans and wishes. And just generally, more to come.