this post is going to be complete and total utter rubbish. it's 1.56am, exactly 56 minutes past my usual self inflicted bed time. Only time i break this rule on a week night is for boyfriends or very very very very serious dramas (like when i locked my keys in the car with the pizza INSIDE and the RACV man took his sweet arse time)
i'm sleepy but i'm not. i really wish tomorrow was Saturday so i wouldn't have to be stressing right now that i'm going to be a babbling moron at work tomorrow due to sleep deprivation.
i lay in bed at, what? maybe 11.30. uploaded some pics onto facebook while simultaneously reading Bridget Jones the edge of reason (we'll get into that later). So bored and not tired I even reinstated my speeddate account (shit, am writing this post in wrong blog if going to start talking about dating... double shit, sound like Helen Fielding, fuck Bridget Jones). anyway - lunatics, absolute lunatics on that thing, but it's kinda cool that you can do it from FB. what the fuck am i even talking about, i'm so tired but not.
1.37 - i was closing my laptop, turning off my lamp... heard stomach grumble. Stupid part of brain convinced the rest of my body that i wouldn't be able to sleep if i was hungry, despite the fact that i had more than a decent amount of vegetarian nasi goreng with oyster sauce for dinner. got up, and ate the following:
-half a loaf of italian bread
-a can of chilli tuna
-green tomatoes, pickled
-eggplants, pickled
-an entire mini tub of philadelphia
truth be told, after the first 5 mouthfuls i was totally satisfied. but in my stupid BJ (oh jesus christ, i was going to refer to Bridget Jones as that, now there's another meaning for my blow job acronym) mood i ate myself to the point where i'm now sitting in my bed thinking about vomiting onto my futon.
it's all my co-worker's fault. she told me a few days ago that she loves going to sleep on a full stomach, helps her sleep. must have been in the back of my mind when i decided to eat myself to death.
strangely - don't feel guilty about overeating anymore. ever since i started this vegetarian thing that has RUINED MY LIFE i'm hungry 24/7 and havne't put on any weight; if anything, people have been telling me non stop that i'm losing weight. humph. the first sentence of this paragraph sounds like i ever did feel guilty for over eating. pfft - no, but i think under normal meatarian circumstances i would have thought it, at the very least, insane to be eating like a maniac at this ungodly hour.
it's 2.09
i hate not eating meat.
wonder how long exactly it's been. going to work it out. i recall sending an abusive fb message to the person who sent me the vile link right after i'd watched it which was the same second i became vegetarian.
going to fb now...
29th July 2008. fucking prick, why would he send it to me?! agh!
and i think my wrists would be better if i was eating meat. do you have any idea how often one uses their wrists?! (my god this post is horrific)
-to brush their teeth
-to spray their deodorant
-to turn their car wheel. uh, sleepiness must be upon me, i meant to say steering wheel.
-to put on and unclip their bra
-and a few other things which, even in my over-stuffed-becoming-sleepy state, i know should not be mentioned on a thing as public as my blog
anyway - i can't DANCE! cos the guys are tools and it feels like they're attempting to break my hands off from my arms. i'm sure that's not the intention, but geez that's what it feels like. i even did a dance exercise class at the gym tonight, and i turned around, as per the routine, and the wind on my hands hurt my wrists. clearly, i have to go to the physio if the wind is hurting me.
ok, well i'm going to try to sleep. last comment is that my friends are turning me into Bridget Jones and i know i always say i'm right... but i really think i am, and i really think they are all reading too much into stuff. actually that's totally another post.
goodnight!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
is there such a thing...
as being too considerate?
several years ago, my Nonna had a stroke early in the morning. Mum ran into my room while it was still dark, pulling on her coat, explaining in a flurry that her mum had haemorrhagged in her brain, giving me details of exactly where the blood clots were and what state she was currently in. She sped off with Dad.
For the first time in my life I reread over my uni lectures and notes. I knew I knew, but I just had to be more than sure. I sat on the green leather couch in the family room, by myself in silence while my brother and sister slept, and I resigned myself to the fact that Nonna was going to pass away within the next 48 hours.
I sat on the couch and waited until it got to 9am. I called work and told them I wouldn't be there for a fortnight. Before I began speaking, I specifically asked to speak to a certain supervisor that I knew would be level headed and matter of fact and not feel bad for what I was telling her.
I then called Liza, my best friend. I explained what had happened, I asked her to not contact me at all for the next three days, and also asked her to contact the rest of my friends and tell them about Nonna and for them to not send me condolences. I told her I would tell her when the rosary and funeral would be. I purposely kept the call short and I cut her off so as not to leave her hanging in the air in awkward silence with me, the lunatic who was prematurely grieving. I felt guilty for putting her in that situation.
I then called my closest uni friend and told her where the blood clots were and her symptoms. She was studying linguistics with me, and our current topic was the brain and stroke victims, and various results from clots in different areas. She knew, without me saying it, that she was going to pass away. I asked her to tell my close uni friends and not contact me. Again, I didn't give her much room to talk, and I got off the phone.
2 days later she passed away.
I called my friends and told them of the rosary date and time. I thanked them for not contacting me and asked them to continue to do so. I apologised to them, for what I'm not certain, and told them that they didn't have to say anything. I felt relieved that all my friends, who usually contacted me on a very regular, sometimes hourly, basis, would know that I wasn't ignoring them and that my phone was off for a reason. i loathed the idea that someone would think there was something else wrong. i found a tiny peace in knowing that they all knew what was going on with me, and that no one was wondering why i dropped off the face of the earth temporarily.
I remember lying in the spare bedroom at Nonna's house with my cousins, while visitors drifted in and out giving condolences, for hours upon end. All the adults sat in Nonna's lounge room, and us kids all lay in the bedroom, sometimes sleeping, sometimes awake, sometimes at a horrible inbetween moment of sleep and nightmares. we stayed there for days, talking, not to anyone in particular, just voicing the thoughts in our heads. at one point i remember all 7 of us laying on one another in some way, like when you play pick up sticks on carpet. i think perhaps we found comfort from touching one another, even if it was just a foot resting on another's foot. we would pass around one of Nonna's cardigans, inhaling it deeply and weeping silently, that smell of borro talco and nivea that i still sometimes wake up dreaming that i can smell that perfect combination.
i remember that my cousins, after the first day, began bitching fervently about their friends and work. they started, and couldn't stop, getting angry at stupid things that people around them were saying as their condolences. I recall listening, and giving my thoughts, but not having any examples to give of my own. their friends were sending them smses, and they were angry that they didn't have the balls to call. they were calling them, and they were pissed that they had the audacity to call when clearly this was family time. their friends sent them flowers - they were furious because the flowers were bright, not morose, and they clearly weren't thinking when they chose the bouquet.
i wasn't angry with my friends. they hadn't done a thing wrong because i hadn't given them the slightest chance to. the thought of them losing face with me was more important to me than losing control of myself; the thought of them accidentally saying the wrong words to me during that time was just so wrong to me and I did everything in my power to stop my friends from feeling at a loss of what to do or say.
i'm not sure where this post is going. i think it's been triggered by the way i react when someone tells me news that i regret how i've immediately reacted to it. honestly, as my mouth isn't attached to my brain, i wish that people around me would shield me from myself.
RIP Caterina Sabatino - I miss you ever so much, and I love you with all my heart. I hope I dream about you tonight Nonna. although, if you do go into anyone's dreams tonight, let them be Uncle Dom's, and in the dream tell him to put a bit more salt in his taralle so they taste more like yours when i dip them in wine! i love you i love you i love you xxx
several years ago, my Nonna had a stroke early in the morning. Mum ran into my room while it was still dark, pulling on her coat, explaining in a flurry that her mum had haemorrhagged in her brain, giving me details of exactly where the blood clots were and what state she was currently in. She sped off with Dad.
For the first time in my life I reread over my uni lectures and notes. I knew I knew, but I just had to be more than sure. I sat on the green leather couch in the family room, by myself in silence while my brother and sister slept, and I resigned myself to the fact that Nonna was going to pass away within the next 48 hours.
I sat on the couch and waited until it got to 9am. I called work and told them I wouldn't be there for a fortnight. Before I began speaking, I specifically asked to speak to a certain supervisor that I knew would be level headed and matter of fact and not feel bad for what I was telling her.
I then called Liza, my best friend. I explained what had happened, I asked her to not contact me at all for the next three days, and also asked her to contact the rest of my friends and tell them about Nonna and for them to not send me condolences. I told her I would tell her when the rosary and funeral would be. I purposely kept the call short and I cut her off so as not to leave her hanging in the air in awkward silence with me, the lunatic who was prematurely grieving. I felt guilty for putting her in that situation.
I then called my closest uni friend and told her where the blood clots were and her symptoms. She was studying linguistics with me, and our current topic was the brain and stroke victims, and various results from clots in different areas. She knew, without me saying it, that she was going to pass away. I asked her to tell my close uni friends and not contact me. Again, I didn't give her much room to talk, and I got off the phone.
2 days later she passed away.
I called my friends and told them of the rosary date and time. I thanked them for not contacting me and asked them to continue to do so. I apologised to them, for what I'm not certain, and told them that they didn't have to say anything. I felt relieved that all my friends, who usually contacted me on a very regular, sometimes hourly, basis, would know that I wasn't ignoring them and that my phone was off for a reason. i loathed the idea that someone would think there was something else wrong. i found a tiny peace in knowing that they all knew what was going on with me, and that no one was wondering why i dropped off the face of the earth temporarily.
I remember lying in the spare bedroom at Nonna's house with my cousins, while visitors drifted in and out giving condolences, for hours upon end. All the adults sat in Nonna's lounge room, and us kids all lay in the bedroom, sometimes sleeping, sometimes awake, sometimes at a horrible inbetween moment of sleep and nightmares. we stayed there for days, talking, not to anyone in particular, just voicing the thoughts in our heads. at one point i remember all 7 of us laying on one another in some way, like when you play pick up sticks on carpet. i think perhaps we found comfort from touching one another, even if it was just a foot resting on another's foot. we would pass around one of Nonna's cardigans, inhaling it deeply and weeping silently, that smell of borro talco and nivea that i still sometimes wake up dreaming that i can smell that perfect combination.
i remember that my cousins, after the first day, began bitching fervently about their friends and work. they started, and couldn't stop, getting angry at stupid things that people around them were saying as their condolences. I recall listening, and giving my thoughts, but not having any examples to give of my own. their friends were sending them smses, and they were angry that they didn't have the balls to call. they were calling them, and they were pissed that they had the audacity to call when clearly this was family time. their friends sent them flowers - they were furious because the flowers were bright, not morose, and they clearly weren't thinking when they chose the bouquet.
i wasn't angry with my friends. they hadn't done a thing wrong because i hadn't given them the slightest chance to. the thought of them losing face with me was more important to me than losing control of myself; the thought of them accidentally saying the wrong words to me during that time was just so wrong to me and I did everything in my power to stop my friends from feeling at a loss of what to do or say.
i'm not sure where this post is going. i think it's been triggered by the way i react when someone tells me news that i regret how i've immediately reacted to it. honestly, as my mouth isn't attached to my brain, i wish that people around me would shield me from myself.
RIP Caterina Sabatino - I miss you ever so much, and I love you with all my heart. I hope I dream about you tonight Nonna. although, if you do go into anyone's dreams tonight, let them be Uncle Dom's, and in the dream tell him to put a bit more salt in his taralle so they taste more like yours when i dip them in wine! i love you i love you i love you xxx
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