30 October 2006

Happy Birthday

Wednesday is the first anniversary of this blog. Say hello if you're dropping in between now and then!

27 October 2006


Whenever I drove past the end of my grandmother's street, I'd always look down it to her house. It gave me a sense of reassurance, seeing her house. I felt that all was right in the world.

One day I went out with some friends to play billiards. As we drove back, we passed my grandmother's street, but I looked up too late and didn't see down it.

For some reason I felt a brief feeling of panic. I wanted to ask my friend to reverse the car so I could look down her street. I wanted to leap out of the car and run back. But I dismissed the thought as silly superstition, and we kept going.

If I'd gone back, I would have see my father's car in the street, and my uncles' and aunts' cars. I would have seen the ambulance in the driveway, and the police car. Maybe I would have seen them carrying her body out of the house on a stretcher.

It's been four years now, and I still miss her.

18 October 2006


Today when I checked my email I found an invitation from a kayaking centre to do some kayaking in hometown.

WTF? I thought. How did they get my email address? How did they know I love kayaking? I never did it in hometown!

In the end, I realised they'd ripped my email address off some other mailing list I'd signed up to.

I went kayaking only once. Someone convinced me to; it took a lot of convincing. I wasn't very fit. How the fuck could I kayak for ten kilometers?

But I did it. Ten ks down the Brunswick river. It was beautiful. I got the hang of it quickly. It was easy. And afterwards I felt so powerful. I thought if I could do that, I could do anything. It gave me confidence to do some other, bigger things.

In some ways, moving to a new town is like kayaking. It takes a leap of faith, the belief that you can do it. Settling in can be as hard or as easy as you choose to make it, as fast or as slow as you feel comfortable with. But in some ways it's not like kayaking at all. There's no point now when I can say, "Just around the corner and I'll have reached the end". You never know where the end is; in a way, there is no end. You just keep weaving yourself further and further into the new place. And it's not a smooth ride. I thought settling in would be a slow steady progression, like paddling down a lazy river. But instead it comes in fits and bursts like the tide.

Thankyou everyone for your comments on my last post. You all said much the same thing in essence - that it's my headspace that determines how I feel, and that home is where you make it. So very true.

8 October 2006

Settling in

Ever since I was a child, I wanted to leave my hometown.
As an adult, I watched a bunch of other people leave, while circumstances kept me there.
"It's great!" they'd gush, telling me about the fun they were having. "I'm so glad I left!" And finally, I left too.

It was hard. No one ever talks about how hard it is, how incredibly frustrating and lonely it is. Did they not feel that? Or do they do what I do, and just put the happy voice on when they talk to people from hometown?

I wonder sometimes why it's taking me so long to adjust. How long will it take?

I'd made a whole bunch of mistakes when I was young while living in hometown which kept haunting me (as things do in a small town). I'd wanted to leave, but always thought if I left I'd be trying to run away from my problems. I stayed until I'd sorted myself out and learned the skills needed to deal with them. Now we're alreading talking about moving again, but I haven't yet learned the skill of settling in. I want to learn how to adjust to a new place - how to find my way around, how to read the seasons, how to recognise the insects and the plants, how to make new friends. If I keep moving, I won't get the satisfaction of knowing that I learned that skill - I'll just feel like I'm running away from my inability to adjust to a new life. And then how can I have any confidence that I will adjust to the next place, If I never managed it here?

It's funny, because the more you settle into a place, the harder it is to leave. But I'd rather the regret of leaving something good behind than the regret of leaving an unsorted mess behind. I want to feel like I'm expanding, not slinking away.

Any advice from people who've moved about? Dzer? Maegen? Anyone?

5 October 2006

Erogenous zone

A mutual friend introduced us.

"I think you'll have fun with him. He's got a few tricks up his sleeve," winked the mutual friend.

He was very young, but so was I back then. I thought, 'what the hell' and invited him over.

And he knew what he was doing. He touched me like an expert. He had a sexual wisdom far beyond his years. I sent a silent thankyou to whoever had been his teacher.

One night he kissed me slowly, moving down my body. He kissed my legs and my feet. He began sucking my toes. He concentrated on one particular toe for quite some time. It felt warm, and wet, but not particularly erotic. 'What's with the toe?' I thought.

Then I had an orgasm.

Wow. An orgasm from toe-sucking. I never knew that was possible, and certainly not for me; it was hard enough to push me over the edge at the best of times. It was an important lesson- I'd always thought, up until then, that orgasms came only from the clit.

I've had a special fondness for that toe ever since, and the secret power it holds.

1 October 2006

Get up and play

I'm a musician.

I've been performing in public for nearly 25 years.

So why do I get nervous now? I never used to.

Here I go again. Wish me luck.