A Startling Revelation

I was just reading a book, minding my own business and getting nicely lost in a world that doesn't exist. Sometimes it is nice to do such things on a Saturday night rather than trawl through the drunken masses.... Any way, I was reading and all of a sudden it hit me. Out of the blue and with such violent force than my breath actually caught in my throat, it hit me.

I'm in love with my best friend.

I wasn't even thinking about him at the time. But there it is, in cold hard pixels.

And now I cant stop thinking about it. When I see my future I see him in it. And it's beautiful and it's perfect and its ever lasting. And it is entirely fictional - and always will be.

I cant tell him, that much is clear. No matter how day-time drama that notion is; I know him and I'm not even close to being the type of woman he goes for. Besides, he's in my life now - importantly and majorly. It wouldn't do to break that bond over something so tenuous as love.

It will be far better to keep the link alive as it stands now and banish this ridiculous notion from my mind. Now that it is out there, in the open and out of my head, that should be achievable.

Magical Lists

In the spirit of being more organised and have actual goals to work towards, I have called upon the assistance of Rachael - who from this point forward shall be known as Special Agent Redra - and initiated the magical list of 25 things to do before we are 25. Our birthdays are so close that I figured a month in either direction wasn't going to kill any one.

Now, I know that the idea of such a list is not new, or novel. But it is what we are doing, and we are sticking to it (this will not be a New Years resolution repeat). I will have a list - and I will kick the butt of this list.

Yes, I may have control issues at the moment - but there is so little about my life this year that I actually am in charge of so this helps. Taking back my life one step at a time.

We always think when we are younger that by the time we reach our early to mid twenties that we will have all the answers we need and will be grown ups making our way in the world. It's a bold face lie. I'd like to think that there is no magical number that exists to marker the change from young to old... And I refuse to have a quarter life crisis because things are not going my way. Having control issues seems safer somehow.

So its time to enjoy the free fall, December starts in a matter of days and then its time to get serious.

Success

I did it. I reached the NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000 words in a month - well a little under a month any way. Over 50,000 words in 25 days. And while I knew going into the process that reaching the goal would be an achievement, I was unprepared for just how... amazing I would feel.

The shear wave of... unadulterated joy. The confidence boost of knowing know that yes, I can do it; yes I am capable of achieving something. When surrounding myself with so much rejection and so much failure, the notion that I am capable of a success - however it might seem to others. It warms me.There are those that don't understand - of course there are - but that is fine. Just because there is no real physical 'prize', the knowledge that I can - that this writing thing is doable - that is worth more than any amount of money or swag.

And that attitude, that sense of accomplishment surprises me.

I am, by nature, not one to diminish or ignore the material aspects of life. I like the tangible I wont deny it. But this seems more somehow. This is something that I have done, I have created with my own two hands. Maybe that is why my feelings of success are so great.

But the ultimately the whys don't matter. I am going to relish in the feeling, use it to propel me even further forward and drive me in my future goals.

Because there will be future goals. Now that I have found this process of working toward aims I am unwilling to let it go. Perhaps I should have listened to all those teachers that tried to ram goal setting down out throats in high school...

Pike River and the Media

My heart and my thoughts go out to the families and friends of those 31 miners who were unfortunate enough to be own the Pike River coal mine at the time of the explosion. Even more so to those of the 29 still inside. It is a terrible tragedy and a horrible loss and wish them all the best in the trying times that are no doubt ahead of them. I have no wishes to diminish or trivialise their pain, for it is very real and I understand that.

But, having said that, the media coverage of the entire event has my blood boiling every time it comes on the TV and radio. It started with the constant coverage of absolutely no news; it moved on to them terrorising grieving and worried families, dragging in any one that has even so much as looked sideways at the mine to get their opinions on the place, finding long lost relatives who have had nothing to do with those trapped for near on a decade and has now moved on the worst sin of all (at least in my book), blame casting.

Perhaps I feel it more keenly through family ties to the emergency services, or perhaps I am just more... logical or empathetic than the media, but what ever it is, it really annoys me when people become determine to place the blame for either natural, or undefined tragedies.

It is the first principle of an emergency that the rescuer must first mind for his or her own safety. I was taught that in primary school so it is not like it is a complex or new idea. It would do nobody any good if those that were sent to help got into trouble themselves. That was the principle that they used during the earthquake here a couple of months ago, and that is the principle that they used at the mine. With methane levels of 95% that hardly comes as a surprise.

And yet people still find it acceptable to claim that the rescue teams are not doing enough. They are doing all that they can and the police superintendent deserves praise for the work he is doing, not judgment and condemnation from an American nobody that is so far removed from the situation that they probably still thing that New Zealand is a part of Australia let alone the location of a small West Coast town such as Reefton.

I can understand that the families are worried and they want answers and their people back safe to them. Believe me, I understand that.

But the rescuers - they have families too. How is sending them to their deaths going to make anything better?

And how does the media storm always find the one disgruntled relative to talk to - or is it just that that is the only one that will ever talk to them. That's probably more like it.

So, just for the record, the rescuers are not to blame, the government is not to blame, the police are not to blame and neither is the CEO of the mine. The fault lies in an explosion with an unknown cause and the fault lies with the nature of coal. It is as simple as that - no matter how callous that sounds (that is not my intent) - nature is nature and no one person can change that.

So with that said, big hugs go out to not only the families of the miners but also the rescue crews and people working on the rescue, the remaining staff of Pike River and the police superintendent. You are all doing wonderfully given the situation and should be proud.

The Nay-Sayers on the other hand, should be ashamed of themselves.

Creature of Habit

Is it possible for dogs to have OCD? If it is I'm sure that my dog has it.

Among other things (don't even get me started on the ritualistic pee cycle that you could set a watch to, the 5pm spazz out, the need to drink in threes and the ever growing list of fears), Misha has a blanket that sits on the end of my bed that he likes to sleep on in the mornings. A purple polar-fleece thing that he claimed as his own at a very young age - not that I minded overly, it stops him from going on my sinful (both in feel and expense) sheets. So this blanket usually sits on the bottom corner of my bed, waiting patiently for him and that is where he likes it, with just the right about of nesting to it. But I was changing the sheets on my bed earlier and naturally, all the blankets where thrown on the floor temporarily. Misha, bless his little heart chose that moment to come and investigate only to find his precious on the floor and not in it accustomed spot.

Oh you should have seen his face. For something so small and furry it is definitely expressive. He looked at the blanket, honestly glared at me then looked between the blanket and the bed before attempting to move it himself. Bearing in mind here, that he is a 6 kilo Bichon-Pekingese cross, and the blanket is the size of a double bed... Needless to say, he didn't get far.

He continued tugging until I finished making up the bed and folded his blanket back in its corner. He has been sitting there ever since, watching me - and I just know he is thinking 'I'm not moving so you can't take my blanket away again.' But for the sake of clean sheets I guess I am willing to deal with his bed-hog tendencies.

The Ex Factor

You never forget your first. That is a well known adage. And it is true for the most part. The first of no matter what you are doing is a very special and important thing; your first birthday, first word, first steps, first day of school. Your first boyfriend, first kiss, first lover....

All of them become ingrained in memory - some in yours, some in your parents. But all of them shape who you are and who you become.

Generally though, such past firsts stay in just that very place - the past. Maybe that is easier in some aspects. We can glorify them, remembering only the good; the warmth of the feelings of being desired and loved, the intense new sensations of a first kiss rather than the inexperienced fumblings... And that past through rose coloured glass can be good - who wants to remember the bad any way.

But what of when the past doesn't stay in its correct place. What of an ex that you are still in contact with? Some relationships end amicably - I don't mean those ones. Where both parties have agree that they are better without each other than with then I see no reason why some form of friendship can't still be salvaged. No, I mean the average run of the mill break ups where one person decides to leave. What of when those ones still result in periodic communication. Even if it is just something as simple as the occasional 'hey how are ya?'

It is hard to glorify the good of past firsts when the pain of the resulting negatives still reappears from time to time.

There is and always will be that tiny thought that flits through the mind. That one teeny illogical 'what if' that the rest of the brain wants to ignore; wants to argue 'but we are over this and have been for a long time'. And any other day of the week, that larger logical part would win. Its no mistake that I am better of without that particular flavour of person in my life. But every now and then.....

I guess the only thing to do is shake it off. Kids and wives are hard accessories to ignore, but indifference toward the guy can work a treat.

Besides which, celebration is caused for. The end is in sight - I can see it. I'm down to four-digit numbers to reach the monthly word goal. Less than 8,000 and I would have reached 50K. It truly is a feeling that both makes larger and lightens the spirit. And yes, it could be argued that I am using writing as a substitute for all the things in my life at the moment that I cant control. But I am - so what? I am doing well and what harm can feeling good about myself do?

Ego Boosting

A little boost to the ego never killed anyone. The joy of being praised for a job well done can be a wonderful thing. Especially when it is rare.

I catered a lunch today. My first ever paid catering job. It was nothing fancy, but to greeted by praise and congratulation before the food had even been tasted... it was truly warming. Even more so when the taste matched the looks.

Growing up it seemed that praise was never offered. It may have been and I simply was blind to it, but to me it seemed like every time I achieved something it seemed to get glossed over. It appeared - to me - that family would take the attitude of "well that's great, but now you've done that whats next?" There was never any time to just bask in the glory and satisfaction of a job well done.

To have that gratification, especially from relative strangers... perhaps I feel it more keenly because I am denied it from other sources (or at least my mind is denied it if it is offered and I don't realise it).

Maybe that's why, externally at least, failure doesn't seem to bother me. Regardless of my outward expressions the reactions I receive are no different. Always being met with an eye to future and what else can be done does take some of the gloss off the present.

Hmm, something to ponder on later.

I did have to laugh though. I look like my mother - that is no lie. Two photos of us at the same age and you could easily think it was the same person. Personality wise though, we are opposites, we always have been. Yet people, I have noticed, seem to treat me like I have the same sensibilities. I am not a prude; never have been, never will be. I am nearing (rapidly, though I ignore it) 24, joking talk of sex and strange piercings and naked neighbours is hardly going to shock - especially since I know the conversations I myself have with friends. And yet, in the minds of others....

Ah well, they paid me. Who am I to judge.

With money in the purse, the ego healthily fed, writing goals being met and the heavy constant rain pounding and beating in rhythmic time on the porch roof outside my bedroom window I think I shall sleep well tonight.