9: love my life: for the work i do...

and but oh do I do a lot of work for others! It seems as though I pretty much do nothing but things for other people. 

I’m not complaining here though…  I love the work I do… I love every single little tiny thing I create and every single little smile I generate on another person’s face as a result. 

The obvious things I do are my cupcakes. My cupcakes always make me the happiest because they are something I tend to offer exclusively to other people. When I bake, I tend to bake just for other people and don’t often eat any of the cakes myself.

I bake, lovingly mixing all the ingredients whilst singing along to whatever words I have placed on my megamix for that specific day. 

I decorate, carefully piping, glittering and placing each and every decoration with love and attention.
I watch. 

This is my favourite bit… watching people eat my baked goods. There is very little I love more in the world than to sit smugly as I see all the muscles of the recipient’s face turn into putty and fall in love with me, my cakes and all things sweet. I love that people come and hug me after I’ve baked, I love that I am known, seemingly around the world, as ‘The Cupcake Lady’  or ‘Danie Cupcake.’ I love, love, LOVE my baked goods. 

Alongside my cupcakes are the things I make. The woollen toys, hats, scarves and any other miscellany you can conjure. These things come fewer and further in between but generate the most amount of glee… most of my creations lately have been for Pow, but no mind, as his happy face is one of my favourites. When I present him with a new bizarre toy or idea I see his eyes go bright and the corners of his mouth immediately turn up into a smile not dissimilar to that of a toddler on Christmas. 

Alongside all the things I do (my actual job, sewing, tidying, cooking, tanning pigskin, etc) I feel that even the most simple things, that wouldn’t ordinarily be considered ‘work’ to people, are often taken for granted as gifts to other people. 

A mere smile or squeeze of the hand can be life-altering for some people, depending on the day. I am a firm believer that every single little thing that one does alters the world, much like the old adage about if a bird flaps it’s wing in America then  someone will feel a breeze in Japan or something (I don’t know quite how it goes), but everything everyone does is crucial to someone, somewhere. 

So for now, I will continue creating, smiling, baking, writing and taking photos, as I believe these things are the biggest and most special gifts that I give to people…. 

tuesday and ting

This Tuesday I don’t FEEL like hearting… I FEEL like curling up on my bed and just existing between dreams and the words of Chuck Palahniuk for the entire day… 

I’m tired despite a fairly excellent sleep, I have a headache despite the existence of paracetamol in my system and I’m cold despite the incredibly beautiful weather we have been gifted today. 

My life is anything but unpleasant. I am aware that I have been blessed with a life that most people would die for. I am spoiled rotten, quite gifted when it comes to baking and arts and crafts and I seem to have good luck smile upon me on a daily basis… I don’t mean to complain, but it just feels like, despite all the magnificent things that my life is made of, I just really, really can’t seem to pull myself out of this stupid slump I am in. 

Like, I’m pretty certain I know WHY I’m in this slump… the combination of moving house, moving continents, gaining citizenship and everything that has to do with all of these things, they’ve taken their toll on me… they’ve left me feeling quite tired and I’ve not taken the time to have a nap in amongst all of this. I’ve just been running and running and running and not stopping to smell all the flowers (metaphorical relaxing days for myself) and taking for granted the wonderful helpers on the side of the road who’ve been offering me cool bottles of water (metaphorical respite and rejuvenation). I have just been bulling along through my days with my own stupid agenda and now, as of like, last night, I just feel like it’s genuinely taking its toll on me. I feel like I am destroying all the special, beautiful little things in my life. 

Yesterday, despite having had an amazing weekend, I felt raw, arsey and bored. I started the day deciding I was going to only exist for me and laid in bed with a cup of tea and re-reading haunted by Palahniuk. I laid there for two hours and whilst I don’t typically enjoy activities such as this, I really, really loved it (as you will read further on down).

After an hour or two I got on with cooking a meal for Pow and me, working on my newest project and watching films. I spoke to Muffin in the morning and it was alright… as I said above, I felt bored. After our chat I meandered into the lounge and threw myself on the sofa and said I felt strange. Pow asked me what I felt strange about and I went on to explain how I have developed a feeling of complacency… 

several weeks back Muffin had told me that he was busy and that he didn’t have the time to contact me as much as I wanted and that he worried if we had to go a day without talking I would fall to pieces. Well, ever the spiteful little lady, I spent the following two days not talking to him, purely to show him that I was able to do it. since then I’ve severely cut down my talk-time with him which has, in turn, left him emailing me less and… well… let’s just say we only really talk during the brief calls he makes to my mobile, which SHOULD be good enough, but when he spent the first two or three months grooming me with between three and six LONG and incredibly emotional, lovely emails a day and photos and videos and OMG… 

I’ve been left feeling a little like a deflated balloon. I’d gotten so used to having him there, always sending me emails and taking photos and things… 

Now, I just feel complacent. I feel like I’ve backed off SO MUCH that we’ve created a distance that makes me feel really ugly inside. I don’t feel as excited as I used to when I see him come online…. I still DO get excited, but nothing like I used to. People at work have started to notice that I don’t talk about him as much and I guess I just generally have this fear that when I get to america it’s either going to be incredibly good or really, REALLY bad. 

I hate the distance and it’s making me tired. I had forgotten how much it hurts to have to be so far away from someone you have such a burning for. I can’t remember what emotions I felt before I moved to England… what worries I had… 

I can’t remember if I was terrified that I would show up and it wouldn’t be good. I can’t remember if I feared that he wouldn’t love me anymore when he had to live with me for good (which, to be fair, DID happen, so really, if I DID fear that, then it wasn’t completely unfounded). I perhaps should go back to old blogs and see what went through my head then and how I coped with it at that time… 

Is it normal for me to be so scared? Does it make me look like an idiot when I say that I worry that we won’t work out despite the fact that we have invested so much time, energy and money into this? Am I a bad person because I am making sure I book my ticket’s return primarily to save me money, but also with the knowledge that if things don’t work out, I will have a backup plan? 

God, I am so terrified. I will be buying my ticket in four days and I am scared. I have never been more scared of anything in my life. I KNOW that when I book my ticket on Friday morning, that’s gonna be it… I WILL be leaving and I can’t turn back. Once I have clicked on that button I can say goodbye to that £600 and keep my fingers crossed for the proceeding 62 days… crossed in hopes that Muffin and I work out and I won’t have wasted all that money on a pipe dream. 

I am aware that I am most likely in a tizzy at the moment because I am scared. I realize that perhaps my mind is creating this fabulous series of doubts in an effort to stop it from having to process all the scary stuff, I AM going to persevere… I AM going to go to america and I AM going to give this time with Muffin a proper go. I know I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t. 

Urgh, let’s not focus on this junk…  just, that’s where my head is. Scattered. 

Now, on to better things! Things I heart!

Janeyvisit… I decided on an impromptu visit to see my janeyface for this weekend. This occurred to me when I realized that I only have NINE WEEKENDS left in the country and seven of those weekends are already full. I booked the other two weekends in to travel down to London to see janeyface, which means I will only be seeing her four more times before I leave (oh dear, just typing that out then, it took me a little short and I got a bit misty, sorry). I will be travelling down early Friday afternoon for a weekend of drinking, clubbing, tattooing, meeting her parents,  and eating more sushi and buns than I ever knew possible. I have been craving sushi like nobody’s business and there’s nobody I love picking-out and eating sushi with more than my janeyface. I can’t actually believe that this is going to be it. this will be the first of only four visits with her before I leave. I can’t believe it. I want to arrive and make sure that I spend as much time memorizing as many of the moments we have together as possible. I love her so much and to think that I won’t have her on the same land-mass as me for thirteen months breaks my freaking heart. She’s such an amazing person. I love her and her beautiful face so much. I’ve no idea where I would be in England without her… obviously in derby, but like, where would I be mentally. She has brought me out of myself in a way nobody else could have. I have more fun with her than I do with most people. She’s an amazingly beautiful and fun person who I can’t help but smile when I think about.  

Lying in bed reading… I’ve never been one to do this. I’ve always found myself far too caught up in just GOING in my life to stop and just enjoy a couple of hours in bed with a book and a cup of tea. I took this opportunity Sunday and relished every single second. I laid on my bed and listened to the hum and vibration of the songs Pow was mixing whilst I let the words from the book crawl into my brainspace and create images and memories for the characters being described in the book. I laid there, under my new duvet and fell in love with my space, my book, my hangover and my afternoon. It was a special series of moments that I took purely for me and my mind and body thanked me for it.
Artificial apple flavouring… particularly sour apple… NOM! 

Nick Parker… again. Such an outstandingly beautiful man… he’s helped me in so many ways, ways he most likely doesn’t even know.the bursts of love i have for him at the moment came in the shape of friday and saturday night. friday night i entered the pub and got myself a drink and he and i sat in the corner heckling the football in between bursts of me attempting to shriek in support of the English team. we talked about the pub and the game and then we talked about me leaving. he told me how much he is going to miss me and said that he wanted to get a tattoo for me before i leave. the next night i fell in love with him again... the moment it happened was when he was performing on stage with Amy... he was performing and wearing a blonde wig and the light made my heart hurt. made it hurt because i have no idea how i could live without the likes of him... how i am going to go a year without seeing his little face and cuddling him, i have no idea. he is such an amazingly beautiful man. so much fun and so beautiful. i am now attempting to ensure i spend as much time as i can with the people i love the biggest in the next sixty-six days... i need to make sure i have as many memories and photos as possible. i heart nick parker and have no idea what i will do without his little face for a year. 
old, disused buildings
Pow's handwriting
Goncalves
calculators
chlorine
the ducks and the way the front one JUDT peeks past my hairline
cardigans
having a fag in the bath
looking back on all the 'looks' i've seen Pow go through
blood orange juice
prawns
the smell of old patient records
sausage dogs
hoovering
ben edmonds
thomas truax
swimming
Poland
knowing i'm better than a lot of people
post-it's
m & m 's
sleeping with the window open
living alone
Energizer Lithium batteries
photodays with Pow
acoustic guitar
remembering times or days when i didn't hate my husband
homemade spaghetti
my drunk tattoos... mmhmm, i'm a winner. a week or so ago i went to the official opening of my tattooist's new shop and everyone got drunk... three cans of cider in, Tara, Kevin's fiance, came to ask if i wanted a tattoo... i was drunk enough to bumble immediately upstairs and pick out the perfect colour to allow two people who've never tattoo'd before to have a go at my arm. i am now the proud owner of two new, very special tattoos, both of which has the individual who did it's name on... so yes, i now officially have two people's names on me and two tattoos i will never, ever cover up. 
body butter
NOT tired days
over-thinking
planning my leaving party
compound words
80's fashion
my memory
Bon Jovi
texts from Nick Parker
my tiny pomp
when black people have the surname 'white'
when friends announce they are pregnant
finally closing the 7 palmerston street book... as depressing as it was, i can't help but feel a massive wave of relief for not having THAT responsibility anymore... it's so, so lovely to just be able to come home at the end of the day and not have to worry about having to care for a house all by myself. i am now on the home stretch back to america and i can't help but be pleased that all the bits and pieces are finally being tied up into parcels with nice little bows. 
glass-collecting at Bar One

how natural it feels to live with Pow... i can't believe how easy it is to live with him. how easy and wonderful it is. we just get on so well and it's like living with the most wonderful, fun, safe person ever. i've never lived with someone that i've been so close to before and it makes me happy to come home every day  to make dinner, pick out a film and lounge on the sofa, creating fabulous things together. he'a my best friend and i have no idea, after living with him, that i will be able to leave him at the airport. 
IKEA
integrating my things with other people's
the USA vs. UK world cup game
my stripey, long-sleeved top
when muffin is being cute
Franny
big brother
prawns and cocktail sauce
popping my joints
women with shaved heads
washing my face
really old books
anatomy books
the seashell animal shelf Pow and i have set up
pesto
salami
doing washing-up
lava lamps
west-country accents
australian accents
snake anatomy
crude people
fluffy robes
oranges
caramel shortcake
really heavy rain
thunderstorms
Gok Wan
IKEA meatballs
Shrek
onions
really good mugs
rotary telephones
charity-shopping with Pow
finding letters or cards from my mum
days when Pow's stable
Alan Carr
my dentist teeth
8 out of 10 cats
really pale girls
Beyonce
Tim Baxley
Stephanie Smith
wigs
my gogol bordello shirt
good hair
feeling helpful
stethoscopes
cowboy hats
snakeskin boots
empire dresses
bowler hats
listening to music as often as possible
builders
posh english accents
the fact that people describe my hair as "hitler hair"
braces
moles (the animal)
my drawings
Ali's signature
Cheerios
milk
the sound of a VHS rewinding
sudden realizations
easy-to-peel oranges
when Pow's in a good mood
when people randomly make animal noises
having a really good surge of creativity
burlesque at Bar One
my Danni Filth tattoo
good dreams
other people's handwriting
scottish accents
shortbread biscuits
smoked bacon

at least once a day...

At least once a day he asks me that question… 

“How are you settling in?”


Every single time I chuckle to myself and tell him not to be silly and that I settled in six years ago… the only difference now is rather than a fiver a day on taxi fair back to mine, I’m only dropping 50 calories as I mince up the stairs and flop into my bed.

I have officially been moved out of number 7 for three days, although I’ve not slept there in six.


The last two visits to the house were the worst, beginning Saturday. Saturday saw me packing all the bits of my tiny life into a van piloted by Mr Tree. All the stuff that had previously adorned the walls and shelves of my bedroom, lounge and dining room were stowed away within their own cardboard prisons, unsure of whether they would be allowed to escape for the next year or not. I reluctantly packed away all the tiny bits and pieces of my life that I had so carefully dotted around my house so as to allow for ample smiles, memory induction and general comfort-clutter.

That Saturday, everything was gone. All that remained in the house were the cast-offs that I was unable to fit into any boxes.

Well, I COULD have fit them, had I not been retarded. I had SO much notice for the move but kept putting it off because it was just far too painful to face. I love that house so much and I thought that perhaps, if I just left it until the last moment something otherworldly would happen and either everything would suddenly and magically be packed for me, or I would be allowed to stay, rent-free for my last ten weeks.


Because of this fabulous lack of preparation, I left the house that day in a state that perhaps resembled some sort of memory-hurricane aftermath… I closed the door that Saturday morning and immediately had to lean on the brick wall that made up the corner of my bay window…. I had to lean, otherwise I would have crumpled into a heap on the street and Tree would have had to have carried me into the van and then carried me into the new house. I leaned and let out a tiny whimper before climbing into Tree’s van and driving off to the new house.

Photos, toys, drawings and ticket stubs, they were what scattered the floor of every room in the house… they were the painful things that I had to approach on Tuesday with ruthless force. Pow and I arrived at the house for noon armed with bin liners, a hoover and cleaning products. I told him that I just wanted everything to go into the bin, no exceptions, and charged upstairs to begin bagging up all the remnants that were strewn about my old bedroom. I knelt and the first thing I found was a stuffed-monkey… a monkey Christopher and I had named ‘Burt Reynolds’ and hung proudly on every door or stairwell we could on a rotating basis. Christopher had won Burt for me at Frontier Days the summer of 2004 during his visit. I cuddled Burt to my chest, smelled him and wept… Pow came in from the spare room with a silly hat on and asked if I was okay. I gave him a thumb’s-up and shoved Burt into a bin bag… suffocated him in his plastic tomb with all the other memories that he would have to live with for eternity.


Every single little thing I passed my fingers across held its own special memory that I replayed in my mind and that broke my heart… the stars hung on the wardrobe, the toucan gravy boat and the bottle of Advocaat. Every single one of those things, upon picking them up, whisked my memory bank to the middle of the ballroom in my mind and performed a heart-wrenching and emotional rendition of some sad production or dance routine that left me feeling weary, weepy and some other suitably sad ‘w’ word that I can’t even think of at the moment. 

Pow had to leave early, so I forced him to take one final photo at number 7... the photo that is effectively one of my favourite photos ever...

At the end of the day I left number 7 with my giant lily in my arms and Nick in front of me.


I left the keys on the table along with a letter I wrote to my landlord.

I left the house I had fallen so, SO madly in love with three years ago for the last time.


I maintained my composure without crying purely because Nick is precious and hysterical and I couldn’t help but laugh at the visage of myself holding my giant lily plant, freshly dug out of the garden and placed in a bin liner (the only thing big enough to hold the plant’s giant roots) as though I were some off-beat beauty-pageant queen with the biggest bouquet in the history of the world. I pranced around in the hallway before making my way into the fresh evening sunlight and closing the door for the final time.


Nick dropped me off at the new house, which was thankfully devoid of housemate, we had a cup of tea and he left me to it. I immediately didn’t know what to do… I felt a little lost. I stood in the kitchen that I was so familiar with and stared at the mess the combination of my life and Pow’s had created. I set on to tidying it, did all the washing-up, completely re-organized the kitchen cupboards and transplanted my lily before washing my hands and settling down on the wheelchair in the garden with a cup of tea, my book and chevy for my first relaxed sit-down at my new, temporary residence.


The last three days have been blissful. The house has now been perfectly tailored to suit both of our needs and living with him is one of the best things that I could have imagined.


I spent the two weeks prior to the move fretting over the fact that me moving in with him was either going to be the make or break of our friendship… sure that he was going to HATE living with me and would kick me out within a week.


We exist in a wonderful way that has been described by people as ‘combining two of the exact same people in one house.’ We have restful evenings watching films and creating, nice walks to the shop and just the right amount of time away from one another to make our random antics throughout the house all the more perfect.

My moving-in seems to have been the best thing for both of us. I get to spend as much time as I want with my squishy-face and he gets to have his PA living with him and helping him sort his life out for ten weeks. He seems happier and I am so, so much happier.

He is such a safe place for me…  someone that I can really just sit and be completely relaxed and myself with. I love his house, him and my life at the moment. I couldn’t possibly be happier, even if I tried. 

 my bedroom

i worry...

I was just this moment thinking, I was thinking about Molly. I stumbled across thoughts of her and her tiny, precious face in a very, VERY round-about way, but none-the-less, I have done now and cannot seem to stop. 

It started because of a conversation here in my office just today. A couple of colleagues and myself were talking about birthdays and the fact that Al, my favourite colleague, has a shocking amount of things that she has to celebrate in June (birthdays, anniversaries, etc). From there it branched into how difficult it is to purchase presents for a lot of her family members… THEN we went on to discuss Father’s Day, which takes place on the 20^th, Sunday and the fact that Al’s daughters are having a hard time trying to pick something out for their father for Father’s Day. 

Okay, so firstly, I don’t have a dad, so I’ve never had to place much thought on the day. It wasn’t really until six years ago that I even registered it as a special day for any reason… the reason for my notice of this particular holiday was born from the fact that my ex-husband has a horrific memory and I had to be the person that was familiar with all birthdays and holidays on the calendar so we didn’t get into trouble with our nearest and dearest were we to forget a special day. 

So, in the tradition of having to be the rememberful wifey, I have made certain I have reminded Muffin on a regular basis to get a card for his father. 

Anyways, back to the conversation, kind-of. Al’s discussion re: Father’s Day reminded me of a conversation I had with Muffin last night… I drifted off into my own world, away from the office conversation and went on to think about the details of what was said between Muffin and me last night… I had asked him if he got his dad a card… his response was, “well, I’ve gotten my Pop a card, I’ve not gotten one for my dad yet.”

It only took me a moment to recall the fact that Muffin has a biological father (Morris) and a Step-Father (Dave), both of whom he is in regular contact with. I had completely forgotten for a moment and scolded myself briefly for allowing that to happen. 

Anyways, THAT’S not the important bit… when we were having the discussion I didn’t think much more about it, it was only this morning, sat here at my desk, with the remnants of a Kellogg’s Special K Bar stuck in the crevices of my teeth that I began to think more about the anatomy of that conversation… what the meaty bits were made of. 

I thought briefly about the fact that Muffin has two dads and wondered what that was like (given that I have NO dads)… he loves both his dads so much and talks about them both with very high regard. I often wonder what that must be like, what it must have been like as a child… 

I then thought about a programme I was watching on telly the other day, a talk-show that had a guest who is currently a step-mum and had a step-parent when she was a child. given her experience with all things ‘step,’ this marvellous woman is writing a book on what it is like to be a step-parent and a step-child… what emotions can go on from both ends and how to deal with things in a ginger and appropriate manner when certain, unavoidable situations happen. Again, I did not offer this show or this woman much of my brain-power at the time, but now, I find myself thinking, realizing that in a short time, whenever I am ready, I will be a step-parent. I will very suddenly be thrust with the responsibility of having three step-children.
Granted, I will not see a huge amount of them, given the personal situations between Muffin and all their perspective mothers, it is still quite daunting to think that I will be even slightly responsible for small children that are not my own. It is a foreign concept to me… foreign but not altogether unpleasant. 

The one child I am most daunted by is Molly, the OTHER female in Muffin’s life. This is praying on my mind most right now, not because he’s got a child and OMGIHATEHIM for it, and not because he and I will never have a child (yes, THAT is another blog topic all on its own), but mostly because I can remember something very specific… 

Alexis. 

Alex is my brother-in-law’s daughter, my sister’s step-daughter. 

My sister, Carmen, came into Alex’s life when she was six and has been there for the last eleven years. Carmen has been there for her and helped her with countless homework assignments and growing-up problems. Carmen has done her best to be a warm and giving person (which, if any of you have ever met my sister, is no easy task for her, as she is a very awkward and cold person who tends to find it difficult to show any sort of emotion) to Alex, offering her anything that she could possibly need, only to have everything she ever gave Alex thrown back in her face last November during a fit of adolescent rage. 

It had been a slow incline towards ugly for the last year or two, but it seems Alex turning sixteen was the straw that broke the camel’s back. For a year prior to last November Alex could be found lashing out at school, but only on the weeks that she was staying with her dad and my sister. She would shout at her teachers, got into a car accident and was found on several occasions sending texts to her biological mum calling Carmen really horrible names and making claims that she was abusive to her. 

Last November, during Paige’s birthday party Alex caused a massive scene and decided to go live with her mum in Colorado. She did this, stating the cause was my sister, that she was horrible to her, alienated her and made her feel awful about herself…  all of these things are untrue. Carmen has always put every effort in to making sure that Alex was comfortable and felt just as loved and appreciated as the other two children. 

Having had a front-row seat to this spectacular show, from the opening curtains to the current intermission (as I presume there WILL be a second half and I bet it will be breathtaking, making people laugh, cry and want to call their brothers), I find myself terrified that something similar will happen with Molly and me. I will be entering Molly’s life at a similar time that Carmen entered Alex’s and the thought that she will view me in any sort of negative light makes me hurt inside. 

I am well aware that Molly’s mum hates me and will most likely slander me often, trying to smear my name so as to turn Molly against me, but I would like to hope that as someone who will hopefully be in Molly’s life for a long while, she will eventually see that I am only going to be there to love her, teach her to bake and crochet. I just generally want to help make her happy and as comfortable as possible. 

I don’t even know where to start with his boys. I don’t know what kind of a relationship that will be or how it will be approached, but I can’t see them being as big of a hurdle as Molly. She already has a defined life, a mum, a dad, a step-dad and now, soon, a step-mum… I just hope that I can integrate into her life as easily as possible, because no matter how terrifying it is to think that I will have to share Muffin with another girl, there is NO other precious face I would rather share him with than this one… 

meh... tuesday

Over-thinking things… it seems this is my brain’s favourite thing in the entire world to do. Whilst I don’t particularly enjoy it, this learned behaviour that I’ve developed is something I’ve come to cherish… does that make sense? Particularly in these last few months, despite me HATING Christopher for his incessant over-thinking, I have honed in on the ability to over-think things in a most-of-the-time constructive way. The biggest things I am over-thinking at the moment, as you have read, are my move back stateside and my relationship with Muffin. It all just feels huge and whilst it is terrifying and a constant thought preying on my mind, it really does make me feel very adult, to see myself capable of making such huge decisions for without having to rely on anyone else. It’s nice and makes for some awesome poetry.
Schogetten chocolate
Halter-neck dresses
My mobile phone
Having disgusting hobbies… yes, danie officially has all the most disgusting hobbies. Hobbies that it seems I can only delight in with Pow. The most recent being the ascertaining, cooking and photographing of various animal anatomy. Two weekends ago I marched into the butcher’s with my tiny janey to pick up some reserved meat (two sets of pig lungs, 4 cow kidneys, 2 ox livers and 7 cow hearts) which were then safely stowed away in my fridge until the shoot which took place Sunday. Pow came round and we started shooting the meat; the whole process from taking it out of the fridge to cooking it, to preparing it to eating it (although, we only actually had the guts to eat the heart after I sautéed it in garlic, chilli and coriander for a bit). One of the hearts made its way to a dish which is where it lived until some early hour yesterday morning. because of the heat, Pow and I decided to attempt to get some shots of the heart covered in maggots, so I left the heart out for the local copulating, hungry flies. They took the bait and we got some incredible shots on Saturday, only to be trumped by the next ‘heart date’ which was due to take place last night… the date was cancelled because some stupid neighbourhood creature decided it wanted to steal my heart in the middle of the night. Anyways, long story short, I have excellent hobbies… be jealous.
My life… all exhaustion and fail aside, I have been relishing in the fact that my life is actually incredibly perfect. I have everything I could have ever hoped for and I love that. I know I love to complain, but when I look at it, everything in my life is wonderful and I love that every tiny little thing works out just perfectly for me… granted, this doesn’t come without a substantial amount of work on my behalf, but it is wonderful nonetheless. I have incredible friends and in the face of the adversity that my divorce threw up at me, things came together in all the right ways to make for the most thrillingly comfortable ride ever. I always seem to end up with the circumstances working out JUST in my favour and making me smile even bigger than I did before, from Muffin re-contacting me after the divorce to me moving into Pow’s because of RetardStacey. Everything works out for me in the end and I love that about my life. I love that I am willing to work as hard as I am to make it what it is, I love that I can look back and see exactly what stitches I put in this giant tapestry of my existence to make it what it is today. I love that I have had the strength to persevere and make my life what it is today, everything, and I mean absolutely everything I could have ever wanted it to be. I am a strong, fabulous person who people recognize on the street and who has an amazing amount of close friends that love her just as much as she loves them.
I’M A BRITISH CITIZEN... yeah, you read THAT right! Danie is now officially a british citizen. Since I posted my passport off to Liverpool nearly six weeks ago I’ve been hanging from tinder hooks, wondering when I would get it all back… I had vowed that as soon as my passport arrived back I would buy my ticket back to America and hand my notice in (so as soon as I get my deposit back I will be able to tell everyone when my flight back is), so everyone would ask me every day if I had received it. last tuesday was a horrible day. I was cranky, tired and generally sad about packing up my house, so my day at work was filled with lots of very abrupt responses and quiet moments to myself. I arrived home, dejected already because I was CERTAIN that it would not have arrived when I opened my door to an envelope unlike any other envelope I had seen before. It was postmarked Nottingham and addressed to Danielle Nicole Verlaque-Oldfield… I knew immediately and shouted “oh em gee” to the nobody that was in my house before scooping the envelope up and prancing up the stairs. I hopped onto my bed and ripped open the brown paper, turning the contents out and exposing my passport… my wonderful passport, covered in silver ink from a pen-exploding-incident. Along with the passport was a letter. The letter quoted that the receipt of my documents had been noted and they would not need to see them again… it went on to say that they were pleased to announce my application had been successful… it was that word, my new favourite word, that I started to weep… I scrambled around my room for my phone, desperate to ring someone, ANYONE. Pow was busy, Janey’s phone was off and Muffin wasn’t online. I rang Nick… I knew he was in London, bracing himself for the night of his life at the O2 arena on a date with Bon Jovi, but I was hoping to catch him JUST before he left. He answered in the sassy voice he always does when I call and asked if I was okay. I didn’t know what else to say but that I was a citizen.  I shouted it and was weepy. He was pleased for me and we spoke about his hotel room and how excited he was to participate in all things frizzy-haired and 80’s. We said our farewells and I posted a status update on Facebook announcing my new citizenship role. I went on to send texts to nine of my favourite people, people I knew didn’t have facebook or wouldn’t be on for a while and sat with glee, waiting for Muffin to come online… I was SO excited to tell him… his reaction left little to be desired and… well, that was it. at the end of the day, who cares?! Danie is a citizen now! yay!!
Compound-words
Fanta Icy Lemon soda
Brother’s Toffee Apple Cider
The Hippodrome
M & M’s
Drawing… I TOTALLY have the biggest crush EVER on drawing at the moment. Granted, my drawings aren’t THAT great, I still have fun. I try to draw one thing a day… something that inspires me in the morning, and I work on it throughout the day, during phone calls and lunch. I’ve borne some quite cute/funny fruit over the last couple of weeks and am generally pleased with myself.
Losing weight… I am still losing weight at a steady pace and it is making me feel so, so good about myself. I am able to wear clothes I could have never before viewed myself as comfortable wearing… I just feel so amazingly good about my body at the moment. I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror quite often, surprised by how much weight I’ve lost and how excellent I look now. I just feel so good… that’s all there is to that.
Having my passport back
Ashley Arneson
Planning to meet all of Ashley’s lovely ladies when I go back to visit
Curtis Baker’s new baby
Thunderstorms
Spaghetti Bolognaise
Good penmanship
When Muffin actually emails me
Buddy, the Bar One dog
Nights out in Bar One
Nick Parker
Planning my leaving party… because OMG it is going to be EPIC! I can’t actually believe how amazingly fun it is going to be. I’ve just slotted another band in and EVERY band that’s performing will be doing a cover of Caribbean Queen, which pleases me to no end. There will be SO much food, SO many cakes and the ENTIRE night will be filmed for me to take away and muse over on the long, sad days back in America.
Popping my joints
Sharpies
Facebook
Cinnamon
Being trusted with important jobs
Date-stamping things
Thomas Truax
Packing
Samosas
Kebabs
Pencils
Coat hooks
Bad horror films
Cola
Scissors
Tattoos
Popping spots
Stretching my ears
Lying in bed and reading
My capacity for remembering numbers
Painting my nails
News
Slow Club
Making fun of scenesters with Nick
Hugs
REALLY heavy rain
Purging things I don’t need anymore
The fact that Christopher and I are amicable

Learned Helplessness…

I HATE the sun...
I hate June for being so hot then cold...
And I hate this year for going by so quickly.

In seventy-seven days, I’m leaving…  I’ll be packing up the last bits and pieces in my temporary home…  placing little things around Pow’s house for him to find eventually… things to help him remember that I love him and am thinking of him, almost as if I’ve not gone.

In seventy-seven days I will be a weepy mess… it hit me REALLY hard, like a ton of emotional bricks, last Monday afternoon. I was in Pow’s kitchen opening the rather difficult packaging around some Sainsbury’s Garlic Chicken Kievs and Pow was stood to the right of me.  He was happily packing things away into his fridge from our expedition to the shop for MEGAsnacktime treats. We were still covered in the filth, mildew and spider’s webs from our date in the Hippodrome and preparing ourselves for an afternoon/evening in with the telly, lots of garlic-based foods and each other. I was still contemplating the fact that my life is actually made of magic when Pow turned to me and said, “It just doesn’t seem real…”


I looked down at the Kievs and then over to him, puzzled, wondering what it was about these particular breaded-chicken products that didn’t seem real and asked for further explanation.

He went on to explain to me that the “it” he was referring to was the fact that I’m leaving… 

I’m leaving… 

No matter how many times I say it, the words still don’t seem real to me. in eleven weeks I won’t be doing my food-shopping anyplace I am familiar with, I won’t be eating anything I am used to and I won’t have any of the creatures I have grown so familiar with as my constant companions within walking-distance. The thought of it actually causes me physical pain. The thought of having to be so far away from people like Pow, Janey, Nick, Tree and Meek. The thought makes my stomach immediately curdle like last month’s full-fat, blue-capped milk. I’ve never been so terrified of anything in my life.

The terror of late comes not just from the fact that I will be leaving all my favourites for thirteen months, but also from other things… 

The first thing is that every single day I hear a new variation of why other people are finding my leaving hard. Every day my ears play host to words like, “I can’t believe you’re gonna be gone,” “I am going to miss you,” “it’s not gonna be the same without you,” and “I’m just pretending it’s not actually happening.” That last one killed me the most. The last one was said to me whilst on the phone to Jaacqy. It was said after I performed my regular rendition of, “how many days until Danie leaves now?!” he paused on the phone line and said that sentence that made my heart die a little bit.

Whilst it is nice to have people tell me how much they love me and will miss me, it just makes my heart ache more to know that I will be so far away from these people I’ve spent the last six years bonding with.  These people that have helped me in more ways than they will ever be able to comprehend. These people that actually care that I am leaving… something I didn’t realize before, that anyone barring Pow would care I was leaving.


The second thing is that Muffin and I have been weird the last two or three weeks… it may not be so much that WE have been weird, but more that I have been weird and I am projecting, but it most certainly feels like we are both in a weird place. 

I HATE it when one of us has a series of busy days, because typically the other one of us has the tendency to get quite clingy and needy and I can’t deal with that. I love when we talk and I love the fact that he and I are pretty much constantly on the same wavelength… what I DON’T love is the fact that he is most likely going to read this and freak out and think immediately that I hate him and don’t want to move to america. I so do, but whilst all of my time here is winding down and his time in Iraq is winding down we are talking less and less and it is hurting more and more. I feel disconnected, lonely and tired. He rarely ever emails me anymore and when I talk to him it is rare for me to feel anything but annoyance for the fact that I KNOW the conversation typically won’t last more than twenty minutes… that annoyance gets projected as venom onto him and makes our time spent talking mechanical, abrupt and difficult. I hate it. I just wish that he would email me more or anything, but… meh. I guess I am just incredibly worried that I will arrive in america and all the things I had been hoping for will have completely dissipated due to the lack of contact and we will have nothing left but a bit of sexual frustration which has to halt eventually like most things. I worry that I will arrive and all of these eggs that I have put in my basket will just get tossed around and broken and then what will I be left with? Nothing. I’ll be back where I started…


Oh who knows, this is most likely just a little blip in the radar. I’m tired, exhausted from my weekends and generally daunted by the upcoming weeks (the fact that I don’t have a free weekend for the next seven weeks) and just want to take a hot bath and not have to bloody worry about anything. The only time I don’t HAVE to worry about anything at the moment is when I am with Pow…

It seems that as of late, when Pow and I spend time together we are spending the bulk of the time making sure we don’t lose out on any precious time we have together. When we are together now we talk a lot more, hug longer and are generally closer. Every single little nugget of time we have together is super-important and it seems like he’s FINALLY realized that and is embracing it.


It’s now two days until I move in and we are both SUPERexcited about it. I can’t wait to have constant time with him… time to make videos, talk, create, watch films and generally just get a megadose of Pow.

Lately our dates have featured a lot of talking… a lot of processing certain thoughts and emotions. One wouldn’t typically think that going to Pow would offer more than a little light comic relief, but I trust him… I trust every little opinion he has to offer and I appreciate everything he has to say. It’s all been particularly helpful as I’ve needed to talk a lot lately because I’m beginning to experience these stupid, tiny, pangs of doubt, which is distressing me…

danie NEVER doubts her decisions. danie MAKES decisions and goes with them at full speed with no question or serious thought behind them...

i do this because i am a firm believer that the first, pulling gut-reaction that one feels is more often than not the most real and right-for-you thing to go with when making a decision...

"hey, what do you want to drink?" DR PEPPER!
"yo, what's your favourite band?" MAGNETIC FIELDS!
"dude, what's your favourite film?" RAINMAN!
"are you going to be happy with dane forever?" ... uhhhh... mmmmmostly? Yes, i THINK so.

Yes, THAT'S where my head's at at the moment...

this isn't to say that i don't want to go to america and give it a go still... this isn't meant to be taken to say that i am staying in england and never talking to dane again... this should be taken for the fact that i am finally, for once in my life REALLY thinking about what i am doing (wait, does this mean I am ACTUALLY a human, capable of rational thought processes?! WHAAAAAAAAT?!)

The fuse on this doubt-bomb was lit by my ever-fabulous ex-husband three weeks ago. He and i were having a chat online when we had the following conversation:


ME:  how do you feel about the whole thing, Chris?
ME: what's going on in your old head?
EX: what whole thing?
ME: well
ME: all of it
ME: dane
ME: me
ME: you
ME: america
ME: divorce
EX: ok. The divorce? We both needed some space to gain perspective and change the things in our lives we were possibly blaming on each other. I don't think that it would have ever been 'seperate beds' space. That wasn't enough. But I've chilled the fuck out alot about lots of things and I feel like a better person now. I miss you terribly and I still know I meant everything I said but I've had to travel the path I have
EX: so its blah. Live and learn I guess. Time heals and all that jazz.
EX: About Dane? I don't really know. It isn't my place to judge. I feel like he has had a chaotic past and that might have an effect on his future. The whole moving/wedding/kids thing this soon after a LDR and stuff just seems insane to me based on how I feel
EX: but then it isn't me or my place and again, you've got a path to travel for better or worse. He makes you happy and thats good
ME: sure
ME: i know what you mean
ME: but i guess i feel i've come out of it shining a lot more
ME: and with a much more positive outlook
EX: shining and positive seems a bit patronising
ME: sorry
EX: it might seem that way to you
EX: but like I said, the way I feel about what you've come out and are doing isn't really my place
EX: but it seems totally crazy to me
ME: yeah
EX: I'm not in the position to say I've found myself or to take any 'forever' steps right now


now, this was most likely just me reading FAR too much into what he said, but, after being his wife for five years, i am fairly good at reading in-between the lines.... not only that, but he trained me very well in the art of over-thinking, which I’ve done in abundance since that conversation.

I’ve been wondering whether Muffin and I ARE moving too quickly.... (GUT REACTION: NO! is ten years too quick?!) the next day I mused over this with Muffin and Pow... we discussed the general outline of the conversation in different ways and they made things slightly more clear in my head... since then I’ve not been musing so much about whether we’re moving too fast, but more about the fact that I will now be living with someone again… I will now have to learn about how to mesh with someone in close-quarters. I will be in a relationship again…

Chris and I split up because I was too selfish and I couldn’t handle being in a relationship anymore…  I was mid-photocopy today, pressing a handful of warm sheets of paper to my face when it dawned on me that I will actually, actively be someone’s girlfriend again. We will be dating and sharing bills and generally be a couple that lives for and with one another. The thought of that terrifies me because of the grounds on which Chris and I divorced. I needed space, to be selfish and live just for me and so we split up. Within a month I was planning ANOTHER forever without any regard for taking time for myself. Granted, the time I’ve had since he and I split has TECHNICALLY been time for me, since Muffin’s been away in Iraq all this time and in nine months we’ve spent a measly two weeks together, but still… it’s daunting and makes me feel a tiny bit queasy.

But really, I need to STOP worrying about the relationship and just embrace what I’ve got going on right now, friends, music, cakes, wool and tattoos. I need to just live for the moment right now and stop worrying and letting things eat me alive. I’m not sleeping, barely eating and only just slightly awake most days. 

sigh... i guess i should get some more packing done. i've barely done any and i've got the lounge, dining room, kitchen and bedroom to finish... i may die. if not, i'll see you at Pow's in a couple of days. 

BARELY tuesday

just barely... i was at Pow's late last night, so i couldn't get one up last night... please, see my list for this week and enjoy:

when cats respond to my kissy noises
Rissotto
racist Janey texts
 when i post a good blog
cheap chocolate
bonding with people
the yellow sundress of Janey's
Lee's lists
Lee Howes
dogs in wigs
cats in wigs
days off work
Tim Baxley
foreign books
old books
denim
cardigans
polaroid photographs
making videos with Pow
bonding with people because of Henry Rollins
the news
Wrigley's spearmint chewing gum
1984 - the film made in 1956
long, good Pow hugs
Janeyvisits
drinking with Janey
The Eels
Johnny photoshoots
COGmachine
Nick Parker
animal hats
Pow moviedates
knowing people love me
The Hippodrome