Dear Kay,
I'm waiting for Squidge to get here so I can go to bed, and feeling tired and hot and a bit kind of dizzy and strange. He's been on the coast with his mum for the last few days, though, and so I'm really looking forward to seeing him. Really, really.
While he was away he sent me a couple emails and left a message on my phone this morning, which just said he hoped I was haing a good day and he was thinking of me. It was so sweet, and I was telling Lara about it, and she said that he's started doing that thing where they make pointless contact because they miss you. Awesome!
But today was not good. I was going ok even though it was insanely busy with enrollments, and doing my best and yeah, moving and shaking. Got to lunch time, had lunch, chilled out, thought I'd drop off to the loo on the way back to the office. I will forever tell people I had a panic attack/migraine, but I need to tell someone the truth. I didn't get to the loo in time and wet my pants. I spent ten minutes trying to rinse them out and then dry them with the hand dryer in the bathroom, to no avail. So I put them on and squelched home, had a shower, and wondered what the fuck happened. How fucking embarrassing. I won't ever tell anyone except you.
Anyway. That was my day. And Squidge is here. Nighty night.
--K.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
February 14
Dear Kay,
Am both pissed and bored, at the same time. Work is sucky today. There's nothing going on, totally bored out of my brain. Did most of my work by 11 this morning and have been coasting since. Have awesome shoes on, though, so it's not all bad.
And I'm pissed because I just asked my team leader about my leave for Easter and she says she has to think about it, because everyone wants time off then and it's school holidays. So basically, I'm being penalised because I don't have kids. Nevermind that I've been working non stop without taking any leave since April 12 last year, and that it's the first time I've ever asked for leave, and I'm the last one in the office to take any at all, when other people who want it have had multiple leave periods since I started. Maude is getting preferential treatment because of her son, who is 15 years old. 15! He's not going to give a rats arse if she's home with him or not. There are others will school aged children but they don't want the same times, so I don't really get it. I really don't. And it just feels like if I have a six year old hanging around my ankles, it would be approved in an instant.
I'm so sick of picking up the slack for people and their kids. The number of times we've had to cover for someone who can't come in because their sprog has the sniffles. And everyone except Lara and I are part time so that they can care for their offspring, which means that we end up doing 120% of the work around here. And I still don't get preferential fucking treatment.
That's the other thing as well, which I just thought of...she's all concerned about maude and shirani's leave when they're both on 48/52 now and will soon be getting one day off a week anyway. I can't say this enough. I haven't taken any leave for almost a YEAR. Nothing. I worked cup day and labor day and the Queens birthday.
If it's not approved I'm going right over her head to Amanda, and having the whinge to end all whinges. It's bollocks, pure and simple.
Anyway. Just wanted to get that off my chest.
I told Squidge last night that I think Valentine's is awful and terrible, but I still wanted one. He laughed, but understood. I don't know what he's going to do, and I'm sort of strangely excited even though I don't really think he'll do anything much at all. I just like the idea of it, which is what I was trying to get across to him last night, I think. I don't know. I'm so used to shit Valentine's that I find the idea of this one being any good sort of foreign. Honestly, a box of chocolates or a card would instantly make this a record breakingly awesome V-day. Or flowers, even, but chocolates would be better (of course).
Should probably get back to work. Only another 2 hours.
Thanks for listening.
--K.
Am both pissed and bored, at the same time. Work is sucky today. There's nothing going on, totally bored out of my brain. Did most of my work by 11 this morning and have been coasting since. Have awesome shoes on, though, so it's not all bad.
And I'm pissed because I just asked my team leader about my leave for Easter and she says she has to think about it, because everyone wants time off then and it's school holidays. So basically, I'm being penalised because I don't have kids. Nevermind that I've been working non stop without taking any leave since April 12 last year, and that it's the first time I've ever asked for leave, and I'm the last one in the office to take any at all, when other people who want it have had multiple leave periods since I started. Maude is getting preferential treatment because of her son, who is 15 years old. 15! He's not going to give a rats arse if she's home with him or not. There are others will school aged children but they don't want the same times, so I don't really get it. I really don't. And it just feels like if I have a six year old hanging around my ankles, it would be approved in an instant.
I'm so sick of picking up the slack for people and their kids. The number of times we've had to cover for someone who can't come in because their sprog has the sniffles. And everyone except Lara and I are part time so that they can care for their offspring, which means that we end up doing 120% of the work around here. And I still don't get preferential fucking treatment.
That's the other thing as well, which I just thought of...she's all concerned about maude and shirani's leave when they're both on 48/52 now and will soon be getting one day off a week anyway. I can't say this enough. I haven't taken any leave for almost a YEAR. Nothing. I worked cup day and labor day and the Queens birthday.
If it's not approved I'm going right over her head to Amanda, and having the whinge to end all whinges. It's bollocks, pure and simple.
Anyway. Just wanted to get that off my chest.
I told Squidge last night that I think Valentine's is awful and terrible, but I still wanted one. He laughed, but understood. I don't know what he's going to do, and I'm sort of strangely excited even though I don't really think he'll do anything much at all. I just like the idea of it, which is what I was trying to get across to him last night, I think. I don't know. I'm so used to shit Valentine's that I find the idea of this one being any good sort of foreign. Honestly, a box of chocolates or a card would instantly make this a record breakingly awesome V-day. Or flowers, even, but chocolates would be better (of course).
Should probably get back to work. Only another 2 hours.
Thanks for listening.
--K.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
February 12
Dear Kay,
There is something truly terrifying going on on my tv. It seems to involve Anthony Callea and a lot of shiny but unflattering dresses. I may be distracted.
So. Yesterday was Squidge's birthday. It was...amazing. Best Birthday I've ever had and it wasn't even mine.
It started at about 12:30 Sunday night, about half hour into the 11th. He came over and I lit up the room with tea light candles and had the new Goldfrapp playing on the stereo, and he came in and the first thing he said was, 'Oh, this is gorgeous..!' And I felt gorgeous, too.
Anyway. I made him lie down on the bed and close his eyes and I ran and got his present. He took a million years to open it, seriously. A MILLION YEARS. But he eventually got it open and was so surprised and happy. A new spanky iPod. I wish I was my girlfriend.
Monday morning we drove for about two hours to the coast and mucked around in the surf. I took him to a secluded beach that I basically grew up on, and we had it completely to ourselves. There was skinny dipping, but only on Squidge's behalf. Was hilarious, actually, seeing his little white bum skipping over the waves.
We went for lunch, scoffed about three kilos of hot chips and got back into the city in time for a birthday dinner with the siblings and his mum. She called me Jane within two minutes, but only did it once. Everyone rushed to correct her, while I cracked an awkward joke or two. What the freaking hell?? It's not like we've been going out for two weeks. Anyway.
Other than that, it was awesome. Lots of giggles and chocolate mousse and paella. I stayed the night at his and asked him how he thought it went. He said I was awesome, defusing all the tension but being funny and cool at the same time, like he knew I would be. Lovely. Gave him a hug for that one.
He said it was a perfect day, and I totally agreed. It was really lovely. Really chilled, really casual, and just the two of us enjoying being with each other. He makes me laugh, and it's great, and I make him laugh, and that's better.
Work sucked today, though. After such an awesome day, leaving him this morning was absolute torture.
Freakin tired, too.
And I miss you.
--K.
There is something truly terrifying going on on my tv. It seems to involve Anthony Callea and a lot of shiny but unflattering dresses. I may be distracted.
So. Yesterday was Squidge's birthday. It was...amazing. Best Birthday I've ever had and it wasn't even mine.
It started at about 12:30 Sunday night, about half hour into the 11th. He came over and I lit up the room with tea light candles and had the new Goldfrapp playing on the stereo, and he came in and the first thing he said was, 'Oh, this is gorgeous..!' And I felt gorgeous, too.
Anyway. I made him lie down on the bed and close his eyes and I ran and got his present. He took a million years to open it, seriously. A MILLION YEARS. But he eventually got it open and was so surprised and happy. A new spanky iPod. I wish I was my girlfriend.
Monday morning we drove for about two hours to the coast and mucked around in the surf. I took him to a secluded beach that I basically grew up on, and we had it completely to ourselves. There was skinny dipping, but only on Squidge's behalf. Was hilarious, actually, seeing his little white bum skipping over the waves.
We went for lunch, scoffed about three kilos of hot chips and got back into the city in time for a birthday dinner with the siblings and his mum. She called me Jane within two minutes, but only did it once. Everyone rushed to correct her, while I cracked an awkward joke or two. What the freaking hell?? It's not like we've been going out for two weeks. Anyway.
Other than that, it was awesome. Lots of giggles and chocolate mousse and paella. I stayed the night at his and asked him how he thought it went. He said I was awesome, defusing all the tension but being funny and cool at the same time, like he knew I would be. Lovely. Gave him a hug for that one.
He said it was a perfect day, and I totally agreed. It was really lovely. Really chilled, really casual, and just the two of us enjoying being with each other. He makes me laugh, and it's great, and I make him laugh, and that's better.
Work sucked today, though. After such an awesome day, leaving him this morning was absolute torture.
Freakin tired, too.
And I miss you.
--K.
Friday, February 8, 2008
February 8
Dear Kay,
Looking back on my last letter to you, I suppose I can blame my behaviour on extreme fatigue. I don't think I even realised how tired I was, but it seems like I got to that all pervasive, fuck-everything, inconsolable state of sheer exhaustion. Bloody awful, and I can only really see it now that I've had a better week, with more sleep. But not before I made things complicated and fucked it all up, of course.
Thursday night, was getting to the totally bereft stage of exhaustion. Was emotionally spent, even if not necessarily physically. Was weepy, grumpy, massively moody. Was listening to sad, emotional music and lying in bed when Squidge called. I don't think I'd spoken to him in a while. He sounded busy but ok, and I couldn't be bothered trying to sound decent. I must have sounded down. Anyway, we hung up and I was sad because I'd so hoped he'd invite me around or invite himself around. I felt like he was pretty much the only thing that was going to cheer me up, and I wanted more than anything else just to feel his arms around me for a tiny little bit.
But it didn't happen, and I got back to being bereft, and weepy, and tired. After half an hour he messaged, 'do you want to stay here tonight?' and I cried. Because I really did, and he had known it. And I thought to myself, for the millionth time, 'God I love him.'
So I went over. And he did cheer me up, and I did start to feel better, and clothes came off and things led to other things and it was lovely. And after we were lying nose to nose and I had my hand on his cheek and I whispered 'I love you.'
He gave me a quick peck. Then nothing. Longest silence of my entire LIFE.
I rolled over, while trying to play it cool, trying not to make it a big thing, but my head was kind of spinning out of control. Realising that I'd pretty much ruined the only good thing going for me right now, trying to decide who'd get my savings after I topped myself, or if I'd tell the parents to spend it all on an awesome funeral...or give to the ex, who needs it? What to do...what to do...
Anyway. He thought I was falling asleep and went downstairs and I was finally able to cry, which I did. Possibly a bit too loudly, because he came right back upstairs, turned the light on and told me to look at him. He looked like he was about to cry, too. I said 'I'm fine.' (cry cry cry). 'I'm a dumbarse, but I'm fine.' Long long long silence. 'But you have to say something.'
He said he knew he had to say something but didn't know what it was. He said he was scared, because he doesn't know where he is right now. He's scared of committing his feelings to me (and I thought oh! at least there are feelings!) when he has no idea where he'll be in six months, or what he'll be doing. I don't really know what to do with that. I knew that he felt like that, and I even discussed it with Katie weeks before over lunch, when she made the very accurate comment that it felt like it could go either way, this relationship. But it was hard and awful to hear it from him, just because you never want the person you love to say anything other than it's a sure thing, and you'll never ever get hurt, and it will all be roses forever.
And I was wondering what to do. What to do with this information but also where it lead. I thought, is this when I should be walking away? But it didn't feel like it. Because there are feelings, even if he can't express them, and I knew it.
I told him I was scared too. He said, 'really?' and I said 'yeah, absolutely fucking terrified.' I told him I was scared he was going to decide that he wanted to figure it all out on my his own, and he said he hadn't been thinking that. I said I was in the same place, that I didn't know where I was going to be in six months either, that my entire future is totally up in the air and I can't stand the idea of being in one place for more than a year. He seemed surprised, I guess, and really quite impressed that I already knew what he was feeling. I told him I knew what I was getting into when I signed up. But that in all the situations I imagine for myself in the future, he's there. In the background. And I asked him if that scares him, and he said yes, but not totally. And I laughed, and said 'well that's a start'. But I felt like I was going down a bad path, so I stopped there. I said 'it's ok if you don't want that. Or if you don't know what you want.' He looked confused, and thoughtful, and I dropped it, scared that I was scaring him off.
He said he didn't want to pack it in over this, didn't want to destroy things only to discover in six months under clearer skies that it wasn't what he wanted. I didn't think it was a deal breaker, because there were feelings there. I said the same, and suddenly realised how tense I was. Relaxed a little. Felt like I was steering the conversation into a better place. He'd stopped crying, I'd stopped crying. He told me he thought I was amazing, and that I had been a revelation for him. I told him that was pretty much the best compliment I'd ever had.
And I said, 'Do you think you might...? Love me?' And he said, thoughtfully, 'yeah...I do.' And I told him we could just go with that, then. For now, that's good for me. He asked me when I got so old, and I told him I was 23 going on 40 and he knew it. That we both worry too much, both overthink things, both have to get out of our heads and just feel it, just be together, just shut up and do it.
And, after more nudity, we went to sleep. In the morning we hung out but I was still stewing on it all, working it through in my head. Went out with Mum for dinner and we discussed the events over pasta, working it all through again. Stewing over it more, replaying it, forgetting bits and remembering them.
Saturday morning, we went to the beach, and it was lovely. And it was great, and it was the best. And he said it had been the best morning he'd had in a long time, and I felt just the same.
And all that was last week. I'm worried about the impact of the whole thing, and that we won't know the impact until much later, when things fall apart. I'm worried that we've applied the plaque, and now we just have to wait for the rot to set in. I'm trying not to let it bother me when I'm with him, to soldier on, but I still think about it, always. It's still stewing back there. I can't work out the overall feeling that I have about it, and I'm worried that I resent him and that I'll sabotage the relationship out of spite.
Things have been different, since. There's a lot more unspoken stuff going on, under the seams. And I feel like it's all just infinitely more complicated now, the way these things get when you're with someone and you suddenly put feelings in the picture. Stupid feeliings.
And I'm pissed at myself, because I told myself I was going to take it slow and not fuck it all up, and then BAM. The L bomb.
Just fucking muzzle me.
And I really wish you were here. I miss you.
--K.
Looking back on my last letter to you, I suppose I can blame my behaviour on extreme fatigue. I don't think I even realised how tired I was, but it seems like I got to that all pervasive, fuck-everything, inconsolable state of sheer exhaustion. Bloody awful, and I can only really see it now that I've had a better week, with more sleep. But not before I made things complicated and fucked it all up, of course.
Thursday night, was getting to the totally bereft stage of exhaustion. Was emotionally spent, even if not necessarily physically. Was weepy, grumpy, massively moody. Was listening to sad, emotional music and lying in bed when Squidge called. I don't think I'd spoken to him in a while. He sounded busy but ok, and I couldn't be bothered trying to sound decent. I must have sounded down. Anyway, we hung up and I was sad because I'd so hoped he'd invite me around or invite himself around. I felt like he was pretty much the only thing that was going to cheer me up, and I wanted more than anything else just to feel his arms around me for a tiny little bit.
But it didn't happen, and I got back to being bereft, and weepy, and tired. After half an hour he messaged, 'do you want to stay here tonight?' and I cried. Because I really did, and he had known it. And I thought to myself, for the millionth time, 'God I love him.'
So I went over. And he did cheer me up, and I did start to feel better, and clothes came off and things led to other things and it was lovely. And after we were lying nose to nose and I had my hand on his cheek and I whispered 'I love you.'
He gave me a quick peck. Then nothing. Longest silence of my entire LIFE.
I rolled over, while trying to play it cool, trying not to make it a big thing, but my head was kind of spinning out of control. Realising that I'd pretty much ruined the only good thing going for me right now, trying to decide who'd get my savings after I topped myself, or if I'd tell the parents to spend it all on an awesome funeral...or give to the ex, who needs it? What to do...what to do...
Anyway. He thought I was falling asleep and went downstairs and I was finally able to cry, which I did. Possibly a bit too loudly, because he came right back upstairs, turned the light on and told me to look at him. He looked like he was about to cry, too. I said 'I'm fine.' (cry cry cry). 'I'm a dumbarse, but I'm fine.' Long long long silence. 'But you have to say something.'
He said he knew he had to say something but didn't know what it was. He said he was scared, because he doesn't know where he is right now. He's scared of committing his feelings to me (and I thought oh! at least there are feelings!) when he has no idea where he'll be in six months, or what he'll be doing. I don't really know what to do with that. I knew that he felt like that, and I even discussed it with Katie weeks before over lunch, when she made the very accurate comment that it felt like it could go either way, this relationship. But it was hard and awful to hear it from him, just because you never want the person you love to say anything other than it's a sure thing, and you'll never ever get hurt, and it will all be roses forever.
And I was wondering what to do. What to do with this information but also where it lead. I thought, is this when I should be walking away? But it didn't feel like it. Because there are feelings, even if he can't express them, and I knew it.
I told him I was scared too. He said, 'really?' and I said 'yeah, absolutely fucking terrified.' I told him I was scared he was going to decide that he wanted to figure it all out on my his own, and he said he hadn't been thinking that. I said I was in the same place, that I didn't know where I was going to be in six months either, that my entire future is totally up in the air and I can't stand the idea of being in one place for more than a year. He seemed surprised, I guess, and really quite impressed that I already knew what he was feeling. I told him I knew what I was getting into when I signed up. But that in all the situations I imagine for myself in the future, he's there. In the background. And I asked him if that scares him, and he said yes, but not totally. And I laughed, and said 'well that's a start'. But I felt like I was going down a bad path, so I stopped there. I said 'it's ok if you don't want that. Or if you don't know what you want.' He looked confused, and thoughtful, and I dropped it, scared that I was scaring him off.
He said he didn't want to pack it in over this, didn't want to destroy things only to discover in six months under clearer skies that it wasn't what he wanted. I didn't think it was a deal breaker, because there were feelings there. I said the same, and suddenly realised how tense I was. Relaxed a little. Felt like I was steering the conversation into a better place. He'd stopped crying, I'd stopped crying. He told me he thought I was amazing, and that I had been a revelation for him. I told him that was pretty much the best compliment I'd ever had.
And I said, 'Do you think you might...? Love me?' And he said, thoughtfully, 'yeah...I do.' And I told him we could just go with that, then. For now, that's good for me. He asked me when I got so old, and I told him I was 23 going on 40 and he knew it. That we both worry too much, both overthink things, both have to get out of our heads and just feel it, just be together, just shut up and do it.
And, after more nudity, we went to sleep. In the morning we hung out but I was still stewing on it all, working it through in my head. Went out with Mum for dinner and we discussed the events over pasta, working it all through again. Stewing over it more, replaying it, forgetting bits and remembering them.
Saturday morning, we went to the beach, and it was lovely. And it was great, and it was the best. And he said it had been the best morning he'd had in a long time, and I felt just the same.
And all that was last week. I'm worried about the impact of the whole thing, and that we won't know the impact until much later, when things fall apart. I'm worried that we've applied the plaque, and now we just have to wait for the rot to set in. I'm trying not to let it bother me when I'm with him, to soldier on, but I still think about it, always. It's still stewing back there. I can't work out the overall feeling that I have about it, and I'm worried that I resent him and that I'll sabotage the relationship out of spite.
Things have been different, since. There's a lot more unspoken stuff going on, under the seams. And I feel like it's all just infinitely more complicated now, the way these things get when you're with someone and you suddenly put feelings in the picture. Stupid feeliings.
And I'm pissed at myself, because I told myself I was going to take it slow and not fuck it all up, and then BAM. The L bomb.
Just fucking muzzle me.
And I really wish you were here. I miss you.
--K.
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