Not Anonymous

Good evening.

It's the night before Erev Rosh Hashana (New Year's Eve) and I'm freakin' exhausted.

Those of you who follow me and are active on twitter will know of the saga of the window that has been haunting me since Friday morning.

What is the saga of the window you might ask? Let me tell you from the beginning.

My bedroom had carpeting put approximately 20-odd years ago. It was brown. In the late 1980's early 1990's I assume this was he height of floor fashion. I was a mite too young to appreciate it. Nevertheless it was brown. My parents decided my room needed a renovation and put in parquet. It looks lovely, really it does and it makes the room look bigger and lighter than the god-awful brown wall to wall carpeting - a thing I will never do in a home of my own, it is a horror to clean (when one bothers to do so) and collects dust and hair and insects.

Insects.

If you've been reading me for long enough, you know I have a terrible phobia of cockroaches. You see, last summer the humidity and temperature were ideal for these cretins to spread their wings and fly. And so father put a mesh net over the inside of my window as an attempt to keep the creepies out. It worked for the most part, but looked ugly as sin and it was a bitch to clean my shutters and window panes.

And so, along with a brand spanking new floor a new window was installed.

Only on Friday when everything was supposed to have been done at the same time, floor and window, there were malfunctions.

The window workman brought a torn net panel that was designed to be on the outside of my window to keep my mortal enemies outside my domain. So... it was decided he'd come back on Sunday.

Only on Sunday he decided he couldn't make it.

So he came on Monday. Only when I got back from work that evening I was told that he'd torn the mesh net again.

I swear, I felt like I was going to have a tantrum that rival my 2.5 year old niece! You see, all my stuff, all my property was in a pile in a living room while we waited for this incompetent ass to get his act together. I spent my nights in my childhood bedroom, where my nieces and nephews sleep when they come visit. It wasn't bad, but I was stressing out because it was taking so long and on the Saturday when I started cleaning up the floor and rearranging my bookshelves a baby cockroach flew on me.

It was creepy!

But this afternoon my mother sent my a text in which she told me "Tonight's the night!"

My reply was "Hallelujah! :)"

Yes, smiley included.

So tonight I sleep in my own bedroom, in my own bed, with all my stuff clean and tidy.

It was a rough week because as I said, I was stressing out and I everything was going wrong and my mom was resenting my bad mood, which made me resent her and her bad moods like fucking whoa!

But we got through it and it's now over.

Tomorrow the whole entire clan is coming over to celebrate Rosh Hashana. I'm so glad alcohol is a mitzvah.

How is it Friday already? Time rushed by this week, but also not, it felt very very long and I don't really know why.

It was kind of a crummy week at work, I felt my boss' disappointment in me, but I hope I made up for it by working extra hard yesterday.

Still, I don't really want to care all that much about work, it's not the thing that gives me meaning in life, though I do spend the majority of my life in that office, and it helps when you do enjoy it.

Which I am. A lot. I also like the majority of my co-workers, but argh... it was a crummy week.

Unaided, maybe, by the fact that I really did my best to do as much editing as I could on the fic for fannish_advent/fannish_advent tomorrow and only finished it, like, minutes ago.

It's now with the beta again. My stories still need another once over before I feel confident to let the public see them.

It's really all about you, people.

As usual, on weeks where work consumes me as well as writing projects (of which I don't have that many much to the dismay of ideas banging at my brain) time seems to slip though fingers.

Add to that that tomorrow I've got a family Hanukkah gathering, because you know, it's a holiday and we love the holidays that includes scarfing on fried food, lighting fires (candles, but same-same) and getting chocolate money. I don't begrudge the fact that I've got my family around this week, but it's like I never have time to myself.

Except today where I spent all my time drinking coffee, eating chocolate and cheese, and flailing at my fic.

That was my day. And my week. Same all when you think about it.

I'm so glad it's been boring for me (don't ask me about local politics).

Tumblr crosspost

Laziest day thus far.

I begged off fishing with my father. As it turned out, it was just him, a couple of the young boys and one of my bros-in-law.

I woke up sinfully late, half past 8, had a lazy breakfast with the majority of my family, seeing as some of them decided to sleep in even later!

After breakfast I donned my bikini and frolicked at the beach and in the lagoon for at least two hours. Within those two hours I had to take care of a boy who had sand flung in hi face, swim along the little island and breakers with my father, brother and brother-in-law. I had to make sure none of the progeny (ages ranging from almost 2 to 11) got thrown overboard; for you see, we have an ancient blow up boat my mother would love to see abandoned.

However, we all love it.

And indeed, my brother in law rowed the boat quite a lot. When he offered me a ride I said yes. Of course I did.

We rowed quite a long way out, to where the lagoon becomes the open sea and thus a bit choppier. I wasn't worried, I'm a good swimmer and the water is fairly shallow due to the rock formations. What did concern me was the fact that this blow up boat was slowly sinking under the combined weight of two average sized adults. He's rather tall and I'm rather short, so together er make two average people. Um. *stagadush*?

My littlest niece is almost 2 and she was very cute in the water considering the fact that her water wings could float a blimp. Once she got used to the water she did a great many floating tricks, like showing us her "socks" and bringing her feet up for us to nibble at! Boy did she laugh her little head off!

I was exhausted to say the least and we still had a hike to do later in the day.

I didn't wear a bra until then!

I woke up at 6 am this morning to go fishing with my father, nephews, niece and brother (who came along as a paparazzo). It was rather fun, except that the boys got on my nerves and the girl decided I would be a better seat as opposed to the rocks of the natural breakwater on which we conducted our expedition.

There was a lot of wailing and whining, which is to be expected from people under the age of... whatever.

My oldest nephew (11 years of age) was nearly swept away when a wave pushed him over. All was well, seeing as he ended up wet and skinned at the knees. Understandably, my dad got a bit worried, so we moved from one edge of the breakwater to the other.

My big, fabulous straw hat flapped in the wind but stayed mightily attached to my head. I was quite impressed with it.

My mood became a bit sour when I offered my t-shirt to my wet nephew complained about being cold and wet (it was a fishing expedition, of which there have been several over the years, so he really should have known what to expect). You see, he took it, put it on and then removed it claiming the shirt was pink. Regardless as to whether it was pink or not, the way my shirt was accepted and then rejected because of the colour was insulting. I was actually hurt by his behaviour (and if anyone says "he's a boy" and "I'm over sensitive", you will be summarily ignored because him being a boy and young isn't actually an excuse to be rude by rejecting my shirt for it's colour - he could see what I was wearing and said simply, "no, thank you."). I asked him why he would do that. His answer was, predictably, 11 years old.

Still, not an excuse.

When we got back to the shore I told my sister (his mother) what had gone down.

I honestly find the anti-pink attitude offensive. It's a colour. When I challenged my nephew to explain his attitude he had no answer, as I knew he wouldn't, because admitting the reason would be admitting his anti-girl sentiment, something his 8 year old brother has no problem admitting next to his cousin (my niece) and me.

And so after that I was feeling a bit sour, as I said.

I wasn't the only one, considering my third nephew (whose sense of danger is non-existent) kept aggravating my father by challenging his decision to go fish where no one would be swept away by the waves.

I didn't get to fish. I had to be the other adult.

I make it sound worse than it was, but the pleasant stroll along the rocks, feeling the sun rise and go on about the magnificence of my hat is utterly unappreciated by the rest of humanity - okay, so my sister called it fancy - doesn't provide the stimulating narrative that generational conflict does.

Not to worry, more to come!

Hello my pretties! I'm back, a little worse for wear.

Oy.

Let me tell you what went on from Thursday afternoon to Sunday morning. Hopefully, you will be entertained and also willing to commiserate.

I managed to document, chronicle, write down some of my adventures throughout the weekend, so it's written in the present tense. I'm sure the immediacy will appeal to you ;)

I just got back from the Cirque Du Soleil!

Holy shit it was gorgeous, I'm so happy I made the decision to go, drag my parents along with my niece and nephew to the show.

The show we saw is Alegria and I was a bit overcome at some point, feeling tears in my eyes at such a beautiful spectacle.

I'm really not sure what the over all story we were the audience was supposed to perceive, but I didn't care, I was seeing people fly through the air, contort into shapes I didn't know were humanly possible and clowns who were actually hilarious and not grotesque; you couldn't understand a word they were saying, but they managed to emote everything.

The acrobatics started with the a double flying trapeze act, two trapeze artists doing cork screws in the air and hanging by their ankles on the apparatus. The gasps in the audience were audible throughout; my hands hurt after every act.

The tumbling on the trampoline were death defying, I kept expecting the artists to crash into each other - the trampoline was an X shape on the floor of the stage (uncovered for the act, and covered up again to be a hard surface)the somersaults were out of this world, just superb.

There were several acts with the clowns, all of them bellyachingly funny, but the act after the Russian Barre (which had a little stumble, but like a cat the acrobat looked like he had meant to do that by doing a backwards somersault onto another bar and nailing the fucker like it was a hop and skip down the road) was by far the best, because they mocked the act and had a member of the audience be all shocked and awed at being up there with them.

The contortionists, hand balancer, fire dancers and object manipulators were all mesmerising. The contortionists moved from one position to another like their made of liquid silk.

I have a soft spot for fire dancers, because I'm afraid of fire, so seeing them light their torches with their tongues and hold the flames on their feet, I'm not ashamed to say the hairs on the back of my neck and my arms stood on end like I had an electrical current go through me.

The final act was the flying trapeze. I think I've used up all my words. Let's just say my mouth was hanging open.

And that's what I did this afternoon.

I do believe I win.

But we celebrated anyway.

My birthday is actually this coming Monday, but life being what it is, it was celebrated today and much fun was had.

My siblings got me exactly what I wanted. The "Hawaii Five-0" first season box set! Which, omg, yay!

This is especially good, because I've gotten my parents to watch the show and it will bu much easier to watch the episodes through the DVD machine, rather than hooking up my computer to the big tv screen every time we want to watch an episode.

So much fun.

Speaking of my parents, they got me a tablet.

A tablet.

With a touch screen.

It's 7" of goodness, on which I'll be able to read e-books, fanfiction, watch television and take my computerised life with me wherever I go.

I honestly can't believe they got me a tablet. It's currently charging and it doesn't have a name (I name all my computers), but tomorrow once I've played with it for a while I'll know what's what with this little machine.

I have H50 and a tablet!

I can't believe I have these things now!

Hello my lovelies.

Shall I regale you with my continuing saga of ordeals, making my unremarkable life a series of events one can only coin as "unfortunate".

I don't remember if I mentioned, but my parents have gone on holiday and I am house sitting for them, spending time like a single lady with a cat. I had procrastinated most of Sunday and Monday away, the most productive thing I had done was write a few words of fic, send out a few resumes and set up a job interview.

The job interview was set for today and there's not much to say about it. The interviewer wasn't impressed by me and so when I get the call back, the rejection shan't sting. Still, as my sister told me as she coached me, "have fun and gain experience". It was fun to dress up and look around a be utterly out of league when it came to this kind of place of employment - high end kitchen design halls just aren't for me I guess.

However, prior to the interview I lamented the fact that my good pants were in the wash and I had no decent shoes!

[Sexy!Roommate], bless her, works a hop and a skip away from my home town and she very generously brought me my good shoes from our flat up north.

I was out of the house for two hours or so.

When I returned, it was like a scene out of Titanic.

My red All-Stars were soaked as I stepped into a puddle of water and I literally gasped. I just, could not believe what I was seeing. I followed the water to my parents' bedroom.

My mother's Crocs were floating.

The pipe of the en-suite sink had burst and was spraying water everywhere.

Every-fucking-where.

I had to call my neighbours to help me turn on the mains for the water and I was holding it together by a thread. A thread.

By the time the plumber came I'd already cried to my parents over the phone - they tell me they are proud of me, that I handled things well. God, I hope I'm never in a real flood or other natural disaster, I would not do well, I tell you!

That said, I did my best to scoop the water - but the carpeting in their room was soaked, as was the carpeting of my childhood bedroom. It was pretty horrific.

There's something poignant and tragic about taking pictures of ruined pillows, boxes and pictures to send off to the insurance company.

And today, the plumber returned to repair and rip up the carpets - had this happened in July or August, we may had been tempted to air our the rooms and let the carpets dry, but in March it's still too chilly and damp.

The cat, of course, is utterly stressed out. He shat all over the place and I've mopped up the floor twice already. It doesn't help that he's old and has a cough. I'm taking him to the vet tomorrow for the first time in... many years. He's a very anxious and indoors-y creature, he doesn't do well with these things, if we're going to understate things.

It's funny, when I spoke to my mother she asked me if I had blogged about my exploits and I said, no, I hadn't. I wasn't sure whether this would read as hilarious anecdote or an over share of pity. I suppose it's a bit of both.

When speaking of all the above to my siblings I reiterated that I must be cursed. How does all this plumbing shit happen to one person, over and over again, in less than six months?

My eldest sister suggested I become a plumber - in my addled mind - that idea is beginning to sound pretty damn good. Don't think I haven't been looking at technical colleges!

I have another job interview lined up soon.

I march on. One soggy socked foot at a time.

A lot of the choices I've made, throughout my life and especially the last couple of years, have been due to the fact that I've had the privilege to make them.

I chose to study the Humanities on my parent's dime, because I was able to do so with little sacrifice on my side. I took my time, four years instead of three, because I was not able to handle a year in which a lot of shit happened - so I let my studies go and had to re-do a year.

I still feel guilty about that.

I had considered taking a year off between BA and going on to an MA, because, well, obviously I'll be doing an MA. This is the way the life of a privileged middle class girl goes, right? But first, I should probably get onto a career path of some kind. I enjoyed the Library, I loved being in the Library and I had various Librarian role models that made me think that being a Librarian was a good idea.

Well, the studies made me want to kill myself and the more I thought about where I wanted to go with my life, the notion of being on that path looked less and less like the thing I wanted to be.

So I decided to drop out.

I feel guilty about that too.

It's "another" thing I started and didn't finish. It's another "phase" that fizzled out because I got "bored". Never mind that the studies, depressed me to a degree to which I hadn't felt in a long while, probably not the subject matter itself (though really, my brain felt like it was leaking out of my skull while I was in class), but the frame of being in school, again.

I enjoy learning. But studying...

I feel guilty about the choosing to veer away from this plan, without a backup plan. I'm still unemployed, living off my savings at the moment, working on the side for my father so that I don't sink utterly. There's not a bit of shame involved in that, despite it being a concious choice I made.

And wouldn't you know, I feel guilty about that, as well.

The thing is, my parents were paying for these studies as well and I just couldn't have that any more.

I'm 26, and moved out and still, my parents were paying for my life.

You know, I'd much rather suck up the shame and ask them for help with the rent, than have them help me coast through life just so I can be put on a career path that was numbing me out.

I'm still numb, because I am overwhelmed by death, disease and the feelings of failure that will probably not leave me until I get a job, because I am nothing if not a loyal subject to the economic system.

But ever since I made the choice of leaving school, I've felt lighter and more at ease with the my guilt. I feel guilty for letting down my parents, not for making a choice they think is a mistake - because it's not a mistake for me. I feel guilty for not being financially secure at the moment, but I know that's a dynamic situation that can and will change and it's less to do with me personally and more to do with the structure of work force.
I feel guilty that everything is coming to a head at a time where there has been a death in the family and we are about to begin to revolve around a disease which we thought we wouldn't have to deal with again.

But nothing goes according to plan.

So really, why feel guilty?

For now, it's an outlet for me. Feeling all my feelings through the prism of guilt. It motivates me to try and not feel guilty. Feeling guilty informs me that I am being manipulated, in one way or another.

Feeling guilty reminds me that it could be worse. It reminds me of my privilege, I suppose.

Yesterday though, a song came on my shuffle that really helped me put it somewhat in perspective:


Hand In My Pocket - Alanis Morissette
( no one's really got it figured out just yet )

Where does the time go?

I've barely updated here other than fannish stuff and even then, I feel like I'm forcing myself, I'm just lacking in energy I suppose.

But today I'm feeling good!

The majority of my huge nuclear family came to visit me in my flat far away from their regular abodes and brought with them stuff!

Stuff like food, a carpet (rug, I guess, but I call it a carpet), a bookshelf (along with a bunch of my books!), a mini stereo system that I can connect my little mp3 player to and a red coat hanger! Finally, I can sit on the chair in my room because my bag, jacket, jim-jams and tomorrow's outfit are now hanging up there.

And then we went out to Wadi Nisnas where there's a festival going on and so many are decorating for Christmas! There was music, roasted chestnuts, kanafeh (which my nephews don't seem to like, te mind boggles), crepes and a mish-mash of people, which I love.

My sister commented on how mixed my neighbourhood is and yeah, I like that, even though it's less neighbourly and more everyone being equally racist towards each other, i.e. ignoring each other's existence - except when there is, you know, mandatory interaction like saying "excuse me" in the stairwell.

You have no idea how much this means me!

Oh, and my signed A Study in Emerald now hangs over my bed. Finally, my bedroom is more than a room with a bed.

It actually feels like things are coming together.

Other than, you know, a leak I discovered in our bathroom - I guess two people using it at different intervals wouldn't notice, as the toilet is situated right next to the shower so the floor there is always kind of wet, but with more than ten people using it before heading out for a few hours on the town...

Yeah, there's a leak. I mean, I thought there was before, but wasn't sure and as such didn't call plumbers or my landlady (I try, to no avail, to avoid speaking with her, but she calls, a lot, on a fairly regular basis).

Well, there's always tomorrow. *sigh*

And in other news, I have a job! I work in a book store! Where my fellow workers assume I'm studying for what I'm currently doing; stacking books.

Oh well.

But life, it carries on and I can only keep calm.