I woke up really early but I went to sleep pretty early, too.
I still haven't made it all the way through War Horse.
Not sure I like the main actor.
He overdoes it.
He reminds me of me when I played the Captain of the Saucy Sal in Dick Whittington when I was a student at Greenwich College, re-doing the high school exams I ran away from, because, well, I ran away just before they started.
This is why I entered university one year late, and it wasn't because of a Gap Year, although sometimes I pretended it was.
'Greenwich College'.
And this was years before I thought about purchasing my own pleasure vessel.
Hmm. I really need to give my deck a good paint job.
I think it would be therapeutic to be on my boat whilst lavishing attention on it.
I think it would be a good way to decompress from this year.
I wish that Mexico didn't get so bloody hot and that it didn't have a hurricane season.
It kind of makes it hard to plan the coming year.
I want some overland travel but I also want some Water World.
Decisions. Decisions.
Whatever. I'm just thinking to myself. Just musing.
I'm in love, right, but I also feel the need to be 200% in control of my near future destiny because when I left it up to love before, I wound up pretty bored and on my tod and did less travel between 2009-2011, than at any other time in my life.
Which is kind of ironic.
That will not happen again.
Sometimes I wish I could take love out of the equation. I feel that it holds me back because I want more than just love. I want to feel like I am getting somewhere, that I am achieving something, that I am challenging myself, and if my only challenge in life becomes 'how to be a loving girlfriend' and that is all, then I know that it will be the equivalent of having a kid that ties me down, which I have avoided doing for good reason, because even in freedom, sometimes we cannot feel free, and I don't mean that I want to be free to fck around, stupid stuff like that, which I abhor, I mean free to feel the good challenges of life, free to be a twat who makes mistakes, free to learn something new each and every day.
This desire to challenge myself was what led me to buying a boat in the first place.
I knew it wouldn't be easy (I also didn't realise how hard it would be, too) but I knew that the challenge would keep me on my toes in life, that merely plodding around the planet on land, in the same vortex as the Gappers, wasn't going to be enough for me.
Anyway, we shall see. If anything, this nightmare of a fcking year, and pockets of nightmare that came before, has made me extremely protective of my future, especially since I discovered in the US that I am so damaged now that I sometimes scream like a caged animal and lash out.
I hate that.
I actually hate who I became.
I want to be the real me again.
Feeling fulfilled with adventure, challenged, screwing up in a good ways, succeeding in good ways, a good and happy person from the inside-out.
Enough of this madness.
Really. I.have.had.enough.
Which is why I'm gonna start running tonight.
;)
I think we'll finish this post with a guest appearance from my half-sister, The Beast
This pic was taken last month. Blimey, she's changed.
The full story is here
http://www.shropshirestar.com/news/2011/12/20/jumpers-needed-for-former-battery-hens-at-sanctuary/
I can really see mum in her. I think we both look like mum but different parts of mum's face.
I'm not sure why The Beast got the fat gene, especially since she's been vegetarian since 8 years old. Maybe it's karma for stealing all my old baby/childhood photos and brass candlesticks.
Or it could be the salt and vinegar crisp and salad cream sandwiches she likes, but I reckon it's more likely to be from her dad's side of the family, not that they were fat; her Indian grandfather was a tall, healthy muscled man, who came over from the Punjab after WW2, starting out as a wrestler and then building a little empire with market stalls and a corner shop, but he was a big man, so maybe she has more of his genes than her maternal grandfather's genes, who is Grampy (see above) who I think I'm pretty much the spitting image of, with regards to my height, figure, Russian peasant cheeks and big Mrs Claus nose.
I still haven't made it all the way through War Horse.
Not sure I like the main actor.
He overdoes it.
 |
| Greenwich College. The ugly annex. |
This is why I entered university one year late, and it wasn't because of a Gap Year, although sometimes I pretended it was.
Yah. I went to Goa.Hmm. 'Captain of the Saucy Sal'.
'Greenwich College'.
And this was years before I thought about purchasing my own pleasure vessel.
Hmm. I really need to give my deck a good paint job.
I think it would be therapeutic to be on my boat whilst lavishing attention on it.
I think it would be a good way to decompress from this year.
I wish that Mexico didn't get so bloody hot and that it didn't have a hurricane season.
It kind of makes it hard to plan the coming year.
I want some overland travel but I also want some Water World.
Decisions. Decisions.
Whatever. I'm just thinking to myself. Just musing.
I'm in love, right, but I also feel the need to be 200% in control of my near future destiny because when I left it up to love before, I wound up pretty bored and on my tod and did less travel between 2009-2011, than at any other time in my life.
Which is kind of ironic.
 |
| My $1 pink windbreaker. I love it. |
That will not happen again.
Sometimes I wish I could take love out of the equation. I feel that it holds me back because I want more than just love. I want to feel like I am getting somewhere, that I am achieving something, that I am challenging myself, and if my only challenge in life becomes 'how to be a loving girlfriend' and that is all, then I know that it will be the equivalent of having a kid that ties me down, which I have avoided doing for good reason, because even in freedom, sometimes we cannot feel free, and I don't mean that I want to be free to fck around, stupid stuff like that, which I abhor, I mean free to feel the good challenges of life, free to be a twat who makes mistakes, free to learn something new each and every day.
This desire to challenge myself was what led me to buying a boat in the first place.
I knew it wouldn't be easy (I also didn't realise how hard it would be, too) but I knew that the challenge would keep me on my toes in life, that merely plodding around the planet on land, in the same vortex as the Gappers, wasn't going to be enough for me.
 |
| A special guest appearance from Grampy and NTG. This year will be the 8th year of his passing and the 20th year of my mother's passing. Unbelievable! |
Anyway, we shall see. If anything, this nightmare of a fcking year, and pockets of nightmare that came before, has made me extremely protective of my future, especially since I discovered in the US that I am so damaged now that I sometimes scream like a caged animal and lash out.
I hate that.
I actually hate who I became.
I want to be the real me again.
Feeling fulfilled with adventure, challenged, screwing up in a good ways, succeeding in good ways, a good and happy person from the inside-out.
Enough of this madness.
Really. I.have.had.enough.
Which is why I'm gonna start running tonight.
;)
I think we'll finish this post with a guest appearance from my half-sister, The Beast
This pic was taken last month. Blimey, she's changed.
The full story is here
http://www.shropshirestar.com/news/2011/12/20/jumpers-needed-for-former-battery-hens-at-sanctuary/
I can really see mum in her. I think we both look like mum but different parts of mum's face.
Or it could be the salt and vinegar crisp and salad cream sandwiches she likes, but I reckon it's more likely to be from her dad's side of the family, not that they were fat; her Indian grandfather was a tall, healthy muscled man, who came over from the Punjab after WW2, starting out as a wrestler and then building a little empire with market stalls and a corner shop, but he was a big man, so maybe she has more of his genes than her maternal grandfather's genes, who is Grampy (see above) who I think I'm pretty much the spitting image of, with regards to my height, figure, Russian peasant cheeks and big Mrs Claus nose.
9 comments:
Your Mom was beautiful and you look exactly like her. Yeah, your sister didn't take after your mom's side of the family. I think you are more of a vegetarian than she is, who eats a sandwich like that? Yuk.
Yes, my mum was beautiful. Sadly I don't quite have her looks, just little bits of her. I'm more goofy looking, like Grampy.
Yeah, I know, those sandwiches are the WMD of Food Terrorism.
You look a lot like your mother. I echo Jomamma: she was very pretty.
I am ripping music as we speak!! It's fun. Lots of Candiana coming your way. ;)
Thanks Duder! Can't wait!
Just don't, like, judge me if you don't like the "Doug and the Slugs" video I just put on my blog. It's a Vancouver thing. It might not translate. Hopefully you'll dig the rest.
At a minimum? You'll be well versed on popular Canadian artists. ;)
Send her "Bob's your uncle" for a good Vancouver band of the past, perhaps.
Jeez, that's your sister? Your younger sister? Do you share a bottom half? Because the top isn't working for me.
Also, I had a great sausage pasta last night. I think I look better for it, frankly. I wish more animal rights/vegans didn't look like either mad monks or insufferable prigs. It detracts from the otherwise compelling message.
Should I post a comment that a good material for a 50 pound goat sweater might be angora, or will that even be understood?
No place to put comments. Damn.
Funny you should mention she's 1/4 Indian, because I think she resembles Peter Sellers, known for playing Indians, pretty strongly. But not in a good way.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_R_Sqi0a8BRc/SscPzSLSTLI/AAAAAAAADL0/sMn8mgA1fKk/s400/Peter-Sellers-Smile-23.jpg
LOL Rhys, reading that blog post almost made me want to give up knitting. I decided that I'll just stick with sweaters and if anyone asks me to knit a sweater for a chicken or a goat I'll say Hell NO! Besides, I get angora from goats, they need to learn to run faster and they won't need a sweater.
He he he he R and Judith.
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