It's true! One can forget about a blog for a few days the world won't come to an end. Once the delirium tremors stopped life began to refocus a bit.
Nah I'm just just talking shite. That's what you expect from me, right?
Ok not entirely. maybe some - always a little. I've been thinking, as one does at the new year, about where I'm going and what I'm doing with the rest of my forevers and in the short term, next twelve months. There's the getting ready to move to Australia which is quite a checklist but at the moment it's not urgent as we're still in the waiting for visas stage and that could go on for another 2-6 months. Then getting the house ready to sell, but all that is for the good of the group. What about me. Little ole' me. Granted the going to Oz is my dream and they're caught in the dream too and are on board 100%, but am I making sure I'm taking care of what I need in the now? Well the answer is no. I'm not. Tying to figure out what I need is a whole 'nother thing. I mean...what the fuck do I really need? I mean, I got the basics. I got the food, clothing, home and love of my family. After that, everything is a want. After x-mas and birthday should I really be brokering about with wants?
So here's what I broke it down to: I want to write that fucking book I've been moaning on about for four fucking years. No I really do. I also want to overcome the total and crippling anxiety I get when I even try to write it. Find the time in my day to write it and to be honest there's plenty when I remove the internet and TV from my daily life. I could write the novel in a week. (Yes that's a deliberate exaggeration - have you met me? I also like to torture myself with unrealistic goals. )
So there. I want to write my book. Before Micky Rooney dies. That's a realistic goal right? (Quickly check IMDB...) yeah that's still a good goal. Overcome the anxiety - face it head on, talk it down small and kick it out the door. Cut out a lot of TV time even though ANTM series 11 and Boston Legal starts soon - and don't be a kant and ruin it for me either as I've not seen who wins - so they could be reward shows for writing to schedule? Fuck I just don't know. I have my Marshall plan workbook and I should just follow that and get it going.
Until then, I've been obsessing over weird stuff. Like at the weekend I bought a packet of chicken liver paté and when I opened it to have some I read that it was actually chicken liver parfait. Parfait? Are you parfait-fucking kidding me?? I even went and looked up the definition of a parfait:
1. a dessert of ice cream and fruit or ice cream and syrup in alternate layers, often topped with whipped cream and served in a tall, narrow, short-stemmed glass.
2. any frozen dessert in which fruit, nuts, etc., have been folded into whipped cream or egg custard.
Mactools: says the same and won't let me copy/paste; the fuckers.
1 : a flavored custard containing whipped cream and syrup frozen without stirring 2 : a cold dessert made of layers of fruit, syrup, ice cream, and whipped cream
Concise Oxford - noun
1. a rich cold dessert made with whipped cream, eggs, and fruit. 2. a dessert consisting of layers of ice cream, meringue, and fruit, served in a tall glass.
You get the point. There should never be chicken liver in a parfait! The paté isn't even layered! It's been doing my head in and everytime I get it to spread on a cracker I'm reminded of the most vile dessert ever conceived; chicken liver parfait! Also, we walk about quoting Donkey "Everybody likes parfait!" but does everybody like chicken liver, cognac and mushroom parfait? Hell no! So as you can see, this has me a bit wound up. I mean really, parfait!
We stayed up to watch the Derren Brown special on C4 last night and I was annoyed by my left foot as it was sore and a bit swollen and my hip was bothering me too (No more jogging on icy sidewalks!), so I figured a good sleep was in order and I took and ibuprofen and also a paracetamol/codeine mix, something rarely done but it really works. I remember dreaming that there were crackers in my eye and I was trying to get the crackers out. I woke up a bit groggy and my eye was really sore and itchy, it was a couple minutes past 4 in the morning. When I touched it, it felt puffy. I went into the bathroom and put on the light and my left eye was nearly swollen shut and the inside top eyelashes were rubbing on my eye. I was a bit freaked but went to the kitchen and got a bag of frozen peas and cooled it down. I don't know what was going on, but I figure I was rubbing my eye in my sleep and my hands are a bit rough and I must have irritated it. It's still rather swollen today but it doesn't hurt or itch and there's no goop. So I'm wondering if it's a histamine response? Spider bite? clueless really. I bought some eye drops to keep it clear and if it's not better by tomorrow I'll go to the GP. He's going to be sick of the sight of me soon. But I think the drops and another couple peas-packs will sort it out.
I was then woken up by a weird dream a few minutes before the alarm went off at 7. It was the Ex again. Why does he have to come into my dreams during these episodes of reflection and life planning? Wish my subconscious mind would cut that tie. I mean really, The ex? And the dreams are always the same, where I'm annoyed at him for not being what I hoped for and I'm ready to move on and he's giving me guilt for not being there for him. This time he was moaning because I didn't make a fancy lunch for him. I told him he didn't deserve the nice lunch - those are for people I love. I was thinking I wanted him to just go out my house and fuck off already but he acted like it was his house. In reality it was a dream house - nothing I've ever really seen. I know it was a representation of the mental process of where I'm going, what I need and he seemed to be what I didn't need but really - did I need that particular reminder? No, thank you. I have it sussed, so can we cut that particular association, please?
Time for soup.