On Friday morning, at exactly 5:55am, I will climb aboard a plane to take me around the world and back home to the Pacific Northwest.  I haven’t seen my parents (or my dog!) since Christmas and I am EXTREMELY excited about this visit.  I’ll be home for just over two weeks and will be attending a wedding, a bachelorette party, a rehearsal dinner/July 4 BBQ shindig, a family reunion at the beach and a birth (if the baby in question can be so kind as to enter the world on schedule).  Don’t worry, they’re not all for the same person. 

So I can’t wait to go for long runs with my dog, catch up with my family and EAT.  I’m dying for some Krispy Kremes, Cold Stone Ice Cream, Jiffy Peanut Butter, TONS of Thai food (where is the Thai takeaway in Glasgow?  WHERE?!), Oregon strawberries, white cheddar cheetos and twinkies.  No, I don’t normally eat like this, but for some reason I really miss all the junk food I can’t find in Scotland.  Except it usually only takes one twinkie and one krispy kreme and I realise why I never really ate that stuff when I lived at home.  But everything I can’t get on a regular basis suddenly gets this nostalgic glow and there I am, eating twinkies!

I’m excessively excited about this visit home not just because of the wedding and the family reunion and the imminent birth.  It’s also because over the past few months I’ve been feeling very homesick, something that honestly hasn’t really happened to me since I moved here almost four years ago.  I’d get a bit homesick but I’d go home and when the time came to go back to Glasgow, I was very ready to come back to Glasgow.  This time though, I’m feeling really really homesick and I don’t think it’s of the easily-gotten-rid-of variety.  I think it’s more of the is-it-time-to-move-back-? variety, which is much harder to know how to cope with.

I’ve been feeling sort of unsettled lately, in that way in which I don’t really know where my life is going or where I want to be, but I know I want and need a change.  I desperately miss my family and very much want to be back home near them, but at the same time I’d be very sad to leave my good friends here.  I hate that everything I own or consider buying has to fit into a suitcase, because I know that I’m not really going to be settling down here.  I very much want to buy some furniture, own my own place, even get a pet, but I have no idea when that will actually happen.  I’m terrified about the prospect of applying for a job again (because seriously, what is worse that job searching?) especially since all of my experience in my chosen field is in another country.  Who’s going to hire me?!  Plus I wonder if I’m wasting all of my prime dating time living in a country in which I’ll never actually find the love of my life, because men here all seem to be conservative and homophobic and all are very far away from my home and family!  And then I feel completely lame for even considering changing the course of my life for a man I HAVEN’T EVEN MET YET. 

Needless to say, pretty much every day all of this is swirling around in my head constantly and I’m nowhere near getting closer to a decision.  Do I stay or do I go?  There are a lot of things that are impacting on this decision: money, friends (there and here), family, employment.  It’s a huge step to take, moving back home, because I’m effectively saying that I’ve finished with the whole ‘living abroad thing.’  It’s having to admit to myself that this period of my life is over and I’m actually growing up.  That I care more now about family and settling somewhere than about having amazing experiences and being that crazy world traveller that everybody thinks is pretty cool but says ‘I’d never be able to do that!’ to at the high school reunion. 

Living in Scotland was something that I yearned for with all of my being when I was 24.  I used to hear about people who’d lived here and moved back home and pitied them, because they gave up on their dream.  I was so sick of living at home, I wanted to get away from the same old place and the same old people and really LIVE.  I still don’t really know if I’ve LIVED in the all capitals way, but I’ve definitely had a great life here.  I sometimes find it hard to write funny little Scottish anecdotes for this blog because it’s just my life now, I don’t even really notice when things are a bit strange.  They’re just life here.  But as much as I love the Scottish life, I can’t help the yearning in my heart to be closer to my family and to actually be able to settle down for awhile.  I do love it here, but it’s not my home.  Nor will it ever BE my home.  It’s just a stopping place for my twenties, a place to learn and grow and hopefully mature (just a little bit) before returning home a bit more settled.  Hopefully with a bit less wanderlust, or else my mom will probably start handcuffing me to the house to keep me from travelling away from her again.

So now I’m torn.  It basically comes down to this.  When I got my job, I agreed to work here for three years and the organisation I work for agreed to pay me $2000 per year as a bonus for staying the full three years.  If I leave early, I have to return the money.  I’ve been here a year and a half, January will be my two year anniversary.  In order to be a more attractive hiring prospect when I return home, I need to work here for at least two years.  So my big dilemma is, do I leave early and forgo the money that, frankly, I sort of need in order to actually accomplish the move in the first place?  Or do I stay here another year (well actually a year and a half from this moment), thereby spending more time with my friends here but also postponing the next chapter of my life?  I kind of feel like I’m in a holding pattern if I stay because as much as I adore my friends here, I also know that it’s ultimately not where I want to be for the rest of my life.  So I’m sort of postponing my LIFE, in a way. 

Basically I have NO idea what I want to do.  All I know is that I’m going home where I can hug my parents and cuddle my dog and not think about all this crap for a few weeks at least.  And maybe the answer to all of my questions will fall out of the sky and hit me on the head and I’ll just KNOW where I want to be.  Seems better than my choices at the moment, which so far have included going on long runs, watching lots of tv and constantly dithering about what I want to do with my life.  Go home?  Stay here?  Go home?  Stay here?  SOMEONE JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!!

I know a lot of people get over a breakup by going on endlessly about their ex’s bad points.  They list out the annoying little habits they had or the mean things they said or point out all the reasons why the relationship was doomed to fail.  I don’t want to do that, not because I couldn’t, because I could.  I don’t want to list all of the ex’s faults because I still like and respect him as a person and I don’t think that’s particularly fair to him, to present such a one sided view.  Plus, I’m sure if he made a list of all of MY bad points, it’d be a pretty long list.  I’m a very nice person but I sometimes think I’m not the best girlfriend.  I’ve been single a bit too much in my lifetime and I’m quite used to my own space and doing what I want.  Plus I’m stubborn and tend to argue.  And I hate holidays.  Especially Valentine’s Day.  And I always think I’m right, which is one of my worse faults.

SO.  Let’s not focus on the bad things, shall we?  Though to be fair, I am repeating them over and over in my head so that I can keep reminding myself why it WAS a good thing that we broke up.  It still hurts, but it’s getting better each day.  It also helps that all my friends agreed with me that it was a good thing that we broke up and that, as much as they like the ex, if they were in my position they’d have done the same thing.  So at least there’s that.

I’m trying to look at this relationship as a learning experience (as all relationships are).  What did I learn this time around?  What can I do better next time?  If there’s something I’ve really had to face up to, it’s that I’m not so good at reinforcing my deal breakers.  Everybody knows what those are, they’re those relationship things that you just can’t live without.  Or can’t live WITH, as circumstances dictate.  They could include manky toes, a love of cats, or the inability to take out the garbage.  But usually they’re significant, important things.  Must Love Dogs.  Must Adore Me and Vice Versa.  Must Agree With My Politics.  Must Not Be Crazy (well some are just self-explanatory).  

One thing that is a dealbreaker for me is that I have to agree with my partner on politics and values.  It’s just a must for me.  I can’t be with someone long term that’s conservative.  I’m probably more liberal and ‘politically correct’ than most, but you can blame my social work training for that.  I know this isn’t the case for some, but for me I have to be able to see eye to eye on certain things.  Probably a lot of things, if I’m completely honest.  Everybody has their list in their head and I have mine.  I knew it as it was going on, but the big problem was that I came up against a deal breaker, but I didn’t let it break the deal.  The ex made a few comments and I let them go.  I challenged him on a few things and he seemed to see my point so I let that go too.  I think I knew in my heart even then that it just wasn’t going to work.  But see, I liked him!  He was a good person, I found him extremely attractive and we had a lot of similar interests.  I convinced myself it was enough.  Well, as everyone knows, it’s not.  I grew to love him very much but the deal breaker was still there.  Eventually, I had to face it.  I probably should have faced it sooner, but that’s my issue to regret.

There’s a website I love, Strongly Worded, and I particularly love reading Dori’s upDATEs.  One thing I respect so much about Dori is that she knows what she wants and when she comes up against a dealbreaker, she’s doesn’t hesitate to end a relationship that’s not right.  I envy her that ability to say ‘this isn’t right’ without apologizing for that.  I still have a lot to learn in that respect, but I know now that if it’s not right, it’s just not right.  And it’s never going to become right, no matter how much in common you both might have.  

And since I’m supposed to actually let my deal breakers break the deal, I’ve been thinking lately about what mine actually are.  You know, other than politics.  So far I have these few:

-  Must like dogs AND cats.  Because I do.  And I’ll probably want both at some point in my life.

-  Must like his family and know how to get along with them, most of the time.

-  Must be kind.  

-  Must have his shit together.

-  Must have his own separate interests and allow me to have mine.  MUST NOT be needy.  

-  Must accept and love a child even if it’s born disabled (this one based on a ex who said he wouldn’t ever want a child with a disability.  He’d want an abortion before a disabled child.  Not too much of a stretch to understand why he’s now an EX)

-  Must stand up to me.

-  Must challenge me.

-  Must like books and subtitled films.

-  Must be open minded.  Not homophobic, racist or only eat in chain restaurants.  Must respect other cultures.

-  Must be the kind of man that if my son turns out just like him, I’d be proud.  

 

I’m sure there are others, but those are the basics.  Am I asking too much?  Now I just have to actually learn how to say NO to a guy if he’s not one of these things.  I may just get more practice on that breaking up thing I hate so much.  

So did I miss any?  I know this is a fairly common topic, but what are YOUR dealbreakers?

 

Update: OH!  I forgot one.  Must weigh more than I do.  Sorry, but you do.  You just do.  

Breakups are never easy.  Never ever EVER.  I said to a friend once that I hate breaking up with someone and I wish so much that I was better at it.  ‘That’s not exactly something you want to be GOOD at though,’ she said.  Very very true. 

The Boyfriend and I have broken up, which while I knew was coming, is still extremely, heart-breakingly upsetting.  The reasons for it are many (some very important, some not so much) but it all comes down to the fact that when I think of the man I want to marry, he’s just not it.  Which doesn’t make him a bad person or a mean person or anything negative at all, just not the right person for me.  We’ve been together for almost a year now and I care about him and love him so I’ve been ignoring what I’ve known in my heart.  There are certain things that are insurmountable and unfortunately there are disagreements between us that just can’t be changed.  He won’t change.  I won’t change.  Which means that ultimately, it’s just not going to work for us.  This is such a horrible situation to be in, because I can’t point to any one particular thing.  How do you explain that to someone without making it sound like it’s about him?  Because it’s not HIM, it’s US.

I had no idea what to say to him but I did my best.  I tried to explain how I was feeling and the concerns I had.  Even though he agreed with me I could see that he wasn’t expecting it.  Which just made me feel like a total and complete shit for doing that to him.  He left last night and I cried and cried, not because it was the wrong thing because it wasn’t, but for the pure unfairness of the world that it should come to this.  That two good people who care about each other would have to end things for no concrete reason, just that it’s not ‘right.’  I know all the logical things, the things we say to ourselves to try to make it a tiny bit better.  That it would have been worse if I let it go on any longer.  That it’s better to end it now, before it gets mean and petty and nasty.  That you can’t change who you are and what you want and that even though it hurts now, it’s for the best.  But all I know is that I lost my friend.  That he has never done a single bad thing to me and has always treated me with respect and care and sweetness and love.  And I hurt him, this person that I love.  And it’s just not fair.  Over and above everything else, it’s just so very very unfair.

I know it could be so much worse.  I’m so utterly thankful that we ended it now, before we started resenting each other.  It could have been a fight, he could have been mean, I could have been hurtful with my honestly.  It wasn’t any of that, just a quiet, honest breaking apart of a relationship that had lasted a year.  Maybe I feel the pain more for that.  If he had been mean, maybe I could hate him or feel justified in the break.  If he hadn’t always been so good to me, maybe I wouldn’t feel so completely guilty for not being able to love him like he deserves. 

I know I’m getting upset about things that are just part of relationships, that are part of the search for that one right person, but right now, I don’t care.  I’m feeling upset and guilty and like I’m a horrible awful person for hurting someone who trusted me not to ever hurt him.  He’s not the type to show his feelings very much, but that one tear that fell down his face was enough to break my heart.

And when he stopped on his way out the door and asked me, ‘are you sure it’s not something that I did?’ it shattered.  

 

 

So this is what I was doing this weekend, how about you?

    

 

 

 

 

 

 Though to be fair, this isn’t actually me, unfortunately.  I wish it was, but I didn’t bring along a photographer with me this time.  However, this IS the route we did this weekend so we can all pretend it’s me because honestly, how cool does that look?!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This past weekend was amazing and we had glorious sunny weather and NO RAIN so all of you with your happy thoughts, very well done!  My first foray into outdoor rock climbing was a resounding success and I had so much fun.  I did a few climbs that I never ever in a million years thought I’d be able to do, so that feeling of success has still been glowing within me for the past few days.  It was exhausting, my arms and legs are still sore and totally covered in bruises and scrapes.  But it was far and away the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done in my lifetime.

I thought we’d start out small, with shorter single-pitch walls, to ease me into the whole ‘climbing outdoors’ thing.  Except the beautiful sunny weather had a downside.  There was no wind, so there was nothing to blow the midges away.  Midges are these horrible biting gnats that fly around in huge swarms and basically attack you as soon as you stop moving.  It’s been three days and I’m still nursing midge bites.  We turned up to the lovely, short, EASY wall and the midges basically engulfed us all.  I had them in my ears, in my eyes, if I tried to breathe I was inhaling them.  It was the awful and the only way to get away from them was to keep moving.  Except that when you’re belaying, you’re sort of forced to stand in one place at the bottom of the crag, attached to a rope with your climbing partner at the other end.  You can’t move at all because the only thing keeping your partner from falling is you, keeping the rope tight.  But with the little blood-sucking fiends, we all made an executive decision to move elsewhere.  Of course, elsewhere meant out of the valley and up into the mountains.  To where the big, scary NOT EASY walls live.

It took us an hour and a half to hike in and once we got there, we headed to the bottom of the Weeping Wall.  The climbing was great and not too difficult for a total outdoor newbie like me.  Unfortunately, when we got to the top of this wall, The Fear got me.

Every rock climber is familiar with The Fear.  It’s something that every person I know has had to get past when they first start to climb.  Fear of heights (or more accurately, fear of falling) is one fear that is almost universal.  Almost everyone has it to some extent or another.  It takes time for climbers to learn to trust the equipment and to climb without being afraid of falling.  Yes, you might fall.  Everyone does at some point or another.  But you can get over the fear of falling if you trust your equipment and believe that even if you DO fall, you’re not going to be hurt.  I have absolutely no problem with The Fear in the indoor climbing wall, I trust my equipment and my climbing partners completely.  Outside though?  Well, 60 metres up is a LOT higher than I’d ever been before.  Not to mention, when we reached the top, we were standing on a ledge about eight inches wide, hanging off a sling wrapped around a big rock.  Our belay stance wasn’t even wide enough to stand on.  So there I was, hanging off the wall 60 metres up and all I could think was, ok, I’m ready to go DOWN.  NOW.

I was really afraid I wouldn’t be able to get past this.  I was dreading the following day, especially when our instructor told us we’d be going up to Buachaille Etive Mor.  This is a huge-ass mountain, the top of which is a Munro (hills over 3,000 feet).  It would take a pretty significant hike/scramble just to get up to the bottom of the wall, much less before we even started to climb.  Of course there was no way in hell I was going to say I was scared!

The next day, after a VERY hot climb up, we made it to the bottom of Rannoch Wall, where our climb, January Jigsaw, was awaiting us.  This one was even taller than the last.  I knew I’d be able to make it up part way, but this climb was three pitches long and the last one was 30 metres with some serious climbing.  It’s very exposed and very VERY high.  I made it up to the second belay stance, a larger ledge where I could sit and regroup.  I didn’t feel comfortable climbing first - I would have had to put the protection in, which would have meant climbing for long sections between clips.  If I’d fallen, there would have been a long fall before the ropes caught me, probably anywhere between 10-15 feet.  I was already too nervous, so the Boyfriend went up first with the instructor.  I sat there by myself, belaying out more and more rope and he got higher and higher and I started to get very nervous.  Finally the rope stopped and he called down that he was safe.  It was my turn to climb.  Still terrified, but I was determined not to let it get the best of me.  So I climbed.

The interesting thing was, that last 30 meter pitch was the most fun I had all weekend.  Once I started climbing, all the fear melted away.  THIS I knew how to do.  I was all alone on the rock, just me and the skills I’d been learning for the past year and a half.  I didn’t even notice the height or the exposure, or anything else except each move I had to make to get to the top.  There are a lot of things I can’t do -  dribble a basketball, throw a baseball, throw or catch ANYTHING really - but the one thing I can do is climb.  And it was the most amazing, thrilling, wonderful experience I’ve ever had, being able to do that on real rock, up a real mountain.  

This is Rannoch Wall, but unfortunately it’s a bit hard to see where we actually climbed.  This is January Jigsaw and we also did the first two pitches of Agag’s Groove.  Absolutely Awesome day.  I can’t recommend it enough.  If anyone has ever thought about rock climbing before, DO IT.  It’s a high I can’t even explain.  

Just a few more gratuitous shots of Glencoe because it’s just that beautiful.  And do you see that blue sky down there?!  That never happens here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well The Boyfriend returned yesterday (he works away for a month at a time then returns home for a month).  I haven’t written much about him here, mostly because I want to protect his privacy.  He doesn’t know I have this blog and I don’t think it’s very fair to him to write about him when he hasn’t been able to give his permission for that.  I know a lot of people write about their significant others (and yes, they DO give a LOT of blog fodder) but for me I’ve chosen to keep this part of my life private.  I’m sure that eventually I’ll write about him, but for now I’m just mentioning him as an explanation of why I’ll be missing in action for the next wee while.  The Boyfriend and I are going up north on Thursday for an outdoor rock climbing course, so for the majority of the weekend I’ll be dangling from a rope up a rock face in Glencoe, which will be excessively awesome.  I’ll be praying for NO RAIN and if any of you spare a thought for me, well, spare a thought for me climbing in NO RAIN please.  That’d be great.  More updates to come after the weekend!

 

 

 

It’s taken me awhile to get this review written, not because this book isn’t good because it is, but just because I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.  I generally like Jon Krakauer, I read his book about the 1996 Everest disaster, Into Thin Air, and thought it was well written, if a bit one sided.  I felt that Krakauer was definitely writing that book from his own perspective, as opposed to writing the book as an investigative journalist would have.  I have issues with that book that go way beyond his writing style, however, I think that is because Krakauer wrote that book so soon after the storm that killed eight people and clearly affected him deeply.  My view on that book could be a whole review of itself, but I’ll just leave it with a recommendation.  If you’ve read Into Thin Air you MUST read The Climb, by Anatoli Boukreev, a guide who was up on the mountain that day.  It’s a far better written book in my opinion and also better researched, due to it being written several years after the disaster.  I also think it’s important to read this book because Krakauer is very condemning of Boukreev’s role in the events of that day, going so far as to blame him for acting irresponsibly.  However Boukreev was awarded a commendation for bravery by the American Alpine Club for his role in the events on Everest - their most prestigious award.  He saved many lives that day, which is hardly mentioned by Krakauer.  It’s unfortunate and unfair that Krakauer’s book has become the better known one when it presents Boukreev in such a negative light.  Beyond that though, The Climb in general is also a fantastic book about high-altitude mountaineering.  Definitely recommended. 

ANYWAY, sorry about that tangent there.  I think Krakauer writes good books, if not necessarily comprehensive ones.  I’d heard about this book and was interested in reading his take on the Mormon faith.  I’d done research on the Latter-Day Saints in high school and I’ll admit right now, I have a lot of concerns about the Mormon faith.  But I recognized that what I knew was very limited and I wanted to learn more about the contemporary Mormon church.  I’d hoped that this book was the place to find that information out.

Unfortunately, it’s not.  Heaven is an interesting book, but Krakauer focuses almost exclusively on fundamentalist Mormons.  These are the subgroups (like the group in Texas who had all their children removed after accusations of abuse) who have been excommunicated from the Mormon church and practice polygamy.  He jumps back and forth chapter by chapter, telling the story of the modern polygamous sects combined with the history of the founding of the Mormon church.  He describes Joseph Smith, Brigham Young and all the various moves that led the Mormons to eventually settle in Utah.  Don’t me wrong, it’s fascinating to read a description of the founding of such a large church.  Most religions were founded so long ago that all but the most basic information has been lost.  In the case of the Mormons, a huge amount of historical documents still exist.  According to Krakauer a great number of these have been bought and kept secret by the LDS church (especially documents that disagree with or disprove Smith’s claims), but these documents are still there.  As a lover of archaeology and anthropology, I find all of this fascinating.

But still, what is lacking from this book is an explanation of what the modern LDS church actually believes.  Krakauer focuses on the fundamentalist Mormons and largely ignores the rest of the church.  For some, this might be exactly what they want.  He does focus on all of the controversial, intriguing stuff, all the polygamy and multiple wives and signs from god that 60 year old men should marry 14 year old girls.  For some, this may be extremely interesting, but I just found it kind of sad.  I know this stuff exists, but I also know that these sects are rare and have largely been shunned by the rest of the Mormon Church.  Krakauer claims that these sects are actually still very connected to the mainstream Mormon Church and that if higher up Mormons had their way, they’d all still be polygamous today.  I realise this may be true, but I really really hope it’s not.

I kind of went with it though, persevering in the hopes that if Krakauer was going to spend so much time writing about polygamy, he’d at least explain why this kind of life was so convincing to so many people.  He said over and over why specific people were ‘convinced by the scriptures’ that Smith’s Doctrine Section 132 was correct.  132 is the revelation Smith made granting men the divine right to take more than one wife.  Now, I know nothing about Mormon scripture, but even to me this sounds fishy.  Basically Smith wanted to take another wife, but his first wife, Emma, was having none of it.  She said if he was going to take another wife, she’d take another husband.  So conveniently, Smith then received a revelation from God saying that men could have multiple wives but women weren’t allowed anyone except their husbands.  Even more conveniently, it named Emma specifically multiple times and said she was to obey her husband or she’d be destroyed by God.  I guess Smith really WAS a very charismatic man, because apparently everybody bought this.  My problem is that if so many people are convinced by the scriptures, I need a little bit more than just ‘the doctrine said so’ and then suddenly everybody is convinced.  These men were continually described as the big thinkers and scholars of their day, so why did everybody believe this stuff?  I realise that focusing on a bunch of religious scripture and doctrine isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but it left a big hole in the discussion about polygamy for me. 

Overall, I’d say this is an interesting book.  The problems I had with it weren’t necessarily the fault of the book itself, but more that my expectations of what this book was about weren’t totally accurate.  I wouldn’t say I learned anything particularly new here, but it did flesh out what I kind of already knew.  Actually, that’s a bit of a lie, I did learn about one historical event, a massacre of 150 settlers by Mormons in Utah.  I couldn’t this had actually happened and that I hadn’t ever heard of it before!  

I don’t really want to get into a discussion about my opinions about the LDS church, mainly because they’re probably not very popular and I know the worst thing to do is to make comments on politics or religion on a blog.  And I don’t have any problem with the millions of very lovely Mormons living their lives throughout the country.  I’ve met many of them and they’ve always been extremely nice to me (heathen that I am).  But I can’t help but be a little bit nervous about a church that is growing so rapidly but only allowed black people to be members in 1978 and still won’t allow women to hold any position of authority or power.  From my understanding of Mormon doctrine, women aren’t allowed to speak in the temple or teach on any subject, ever.  Oh, and interracial marriage is forbidden.

So yeah, if you want to learn a bit about fundamentalist Mormonism, polygamy and the history of the LDS church, then this book is for you.  Oh, yeah, there’s also this whole other thread about how these two guys got a revelation from god and killed their sister-in-law and her 15 month old daughter, their own niece.  Did I not mention that?

 

 

I was away seeing my friend Emma’s baby this past weekend for her christening.  I was actually a bit nervous about this because I’m not a very maternal person, at all.  I’ve never been a baby person and am not at ALL a toddler person.  How do you talk to someone who has no sense of reasoning past I WANT THAT?  I think babies are cute, but have never had any sort of urge to have one.  Anything that impacts on my required eight hours of sleep is not something I’d voluntarily choose to bring into my house.

Not only that, most babies, they are not very fond of me.  I pick them up and they cry.  I think babies are actually much more advanced than anyone actually knows, because babies?  They can SMELL FEAR.  I see those tiny little bundles of supposed-joy (anything that cries and poops that much can’t be filled with THAT much joy) and I immediately get scared that I’ll drop it or break its neck by not supporting its head or infect it with all my non-maternal instincts.  And I swear, those babies can tell!  They smell the fear!  It’s kind of like, when a person has been out drinking a LOT the night before and that stale alcohol smell starts coming out of their pores?  It’s like that.  Except it’s a not-very-maternal-person smell and the babies smell it and they just know, here is a person who doesn’t know to support my head.  This person, she will break my neck.

So now, I was going down not only to be around babies all day on Sunday, but I was also staying with my friend Emma.  In a Baby House.  A house that possesses a baby.  A baby that cries.  I only have one other friend who has a baby and she lives back home in Portland so I only have to see her baby once a year, at best.  I figured there would be a great deal of smiling at the baby and waving things in front of the baby’s face, but wasn’t really too sure.  Except that the baby would be near ME, so I figured there would be quite a bit of crying. 

Well.  My friend Emma has been blessed.  Because her baby is AWESOME.  She picked me up at the train station and I sat down in the backseat next to her baby, did the whole ‘hello baby!’ thing and then pretty much ignored the tiny person.  Her baby stared at me the entire drive home, this really intense, assessing stare.  Then, right before we arrived back at the house, I glanced over at her and she SMILED AT ME.  A baby actually SMILED.  At me.  First time in my life that has ever happend.  It was like tiny fairies had come and kissed my cheeks and baby puppies were licking my toes.  The baby liked me!  The baby liked me!

Of course I later discovered that Emma’s baby was probably the most laid back baby ever born.  48 hours at her house and I honestly never heard that baby cry.  Ever.  She’d fuss a bit when she was tired and she’d get a bit upset during the night, but she’d never really cry.  Plus she loved people!  Every single person!  At the party after her christening she was passed from person to person to person and she was happy with every single one of them.  Not only that, she’d eat anything that was put in front of her and she’d even go to sleep in her car seat so we could go out to the pub.  She’s just sleep away next to us, not caring about the noise of people talking all around her.  And even though I KNEW that this baby was like, the bionic baby, I still thought to myself, yeah, this motherhood thing doesn’t look too hard!  I could do this! 

Then I came back home on Monday and discovered new neighbours had moved into the flat next door.  With a baby.  After getting woken up for the third time in one night by the shrieking banshee baby, I rolled over, put in my earplugs and thought, yeah, I totally couldn’t do this. 

So the other day I was talking to my friend Essaytch about our blogs and anonymity.  Just as an aside, I consider it a friendship requirement to distract your friends while they are working as much as possible.  And lucky me, I’m in the perfect circumstances to do that!  With the eight hour time difference, by the time I get home from work all my friends are just getting to work.  Commence many hours of babbling on about random things.  And yes, in case you were wondering, we DO talk about Battlestar Galactica and Stargate: Atlantis.  A lot.

ANYWAY.  Anonymity.  I’ve only had this blog for a few months but I considered starting one for many months before that.  One of the reasons I didn’t, besides the whole ‘why would anyone read what I have to say?’ thing, was the fear of someone I know finding my blog and figuring out who I am.  Let’s face it, other than not using people’s names, I haven’t done much to hide the details of my life.  If someone knows me and stumbles across this blog, it’s pretty obvious it’s me.  Stealthy, I am not.  And yet, I still worry a lot that people from my life who I don’t particularly want to read this stuff about me, might just read it. 

I think everybody who chooses to expose parts (or all) of themselves on the internet has to face up to this at one point or another.  Anonymity or total exposure?  Hide myself or just write?   I hate the idea of having to censor myself because of a fear of someone I know reading it.  And yet there have been moments where the fear of my sister or my ex boyfriend finding this site has made think about not writing on it anymore.  And it’s not like I even write about anything that scandalous!  I do follow the general rule that if you wouldn’t say something to someone’s face, don’t say it on the internet.  Which is definitely a very VERY good rule.  

But the thing is, that fear of someone I know reading this blog has nothing to do with those people.  The fear has more to do with me, that I can’t control what the different people in my life know about me.  That my sister might find out my insecurities, that I’m not always the totally together big sister that I like to pretend I am.  That my crazy ex-boyfriend might find out ANYTHING, such as where I now live or where I like to hang out.  It’s better he not know those things.  Trust me.  

My sister once asked me, why do people keep blogs?  At the time I didn’t really know how to answer, but after having one for awhile, I’m getting closer.  For me, it’s nice to have a place where I can write whatever I want, about whatever I want.  If it’s boring, who cares?  And I can be exactly myself, without having to try to be cool or together or always in control.  A part of me wants to just forget about the anonymity and be totally open about everything, post pictures, tell my family, all that stuff.  I’m not up for THAT just yet, but I’m starting to become a little less nervous about someone I know reading this.  Because this IS me.  And maybe it’s not such a bad thing that I become a little bit more open about who I really am.  I’m not going to post my name on here or anything like that (I have to make it at least a LITTLE bit difficult for people to find me!) but I’m making a strong effort not to be so worried about the anonymity.  If someone finds this, well, that’s life I guess!  Of course I’ll probably just keep telling myself that it won’t happen.  Ignorance is bliss…

Except for that ex-boyfriend.  In that case, I might just have to move.  

Today at around 3:30pm the following words actually came out of my mouth: ‘Ooh!  I have cookies!  I will now eat the cookies and they will make me feel better.’  OH yes, I was fully in the grips of One Of Those Days.

I’m dealing with multiple hospital discharges at work (I manage care packages and about a billion other things for people when they go home, when they can’t manage stuff like showering or making meals on their own).  So I had the intense pleasure of talking to discharge nurses who were telling BIG PORKY PIES (aka lies - love that cockney rhyming slang!) about the state of their charges just to get them out of the damn hospital already.  I had one nurse who was swearing up and down that this particular man now needed to be discharged into a nursing home, even though the last time I saw him (Friday) he only needed a bit of help to shower and make dinner.  How can he now simultaneously need 24 hour care and yet also not have any medical needs that require him to be in hospital?  It boggles the mind!  And then there was the woman who refused carers from particular areas of the city because they just might gossip about her.  Even though if they DID, they’d be fired.  And honestly?  Carers have better things to do than talk about you.  Seriously.

When my ear started hurting from being on the phone so much, I thought, ok, time for me to go home now.  And then the phone rang again.  Because going home?  Not so much an option when I am required by my job to stay here, until the work day ends, and answer that damn phone.  Some days, I HATE duty.  Just go away, all you people who are phoning here with your problems and your ‘oh they’re going to gossip about me’ issues (NO THEY WILL NOT.  THEY HAVE LIVES). 

Seriously, I’m not this bitchy to people when I talk to them.  I am a good social worker, I swear.  I mean, I actually listened to the woman with her gossip issues and then spent three hours trying to find her a care package that she liked, instead of just telling her to take what we were offering and live with it.  I’m just mean to you guys!  I swear!

The cookies did make me feel better though.  Sometimes all you need are a few cookies.  Then I went rock climbing, because even though I love the cookies, I don’t want them to remain on my thighs forever.  And what cookies can’t fix, a bit of dangling up a wall with sweat dripping off my face managed cure!  I might just be able to face tomorrow after all.  

And from the ride home: which is worse - fear of heights or fear of public speaking?  I’ve never really had either, though a healthy bit of fear the first time you go 50 feet up is pretty normal.  I’m not afraid of public speaking either, more annoyed at being asked to do it.  But I know they’re both pretty standard fears most people have.  Is public speaking really that bad?  Or is rock climbing worse?  Discuss!

Edited to add: I realize I’ve been doing quite a bit of whining around here these past few days.  I do apologize!  I promise to be much better in the future with less complaining and more enthusiastic excitement.  Or a least a few more book reviews.  But excited and enthusiastic book reviews!

I wrote this early saturday morning but have only had internet access once I returned to Glasgow today.  I’ll be posting more later, but here are some thoughts from the day after my birthday.  29’s still going ok so far…

 

It’s now 7:30am and I’ve been 29 for just over 31 hours.  It’s ok.  Not a bad age.  A lot like 28.  I’m currently on the train to Birmingham (England, not Alabama) for my friend’s daughter’s christening on Sunday.  When I planned this trip it made a lot more sense to get the train at 6am so I’d be able to spend time with Glasgow friends yesterday for my birthday and still see my friend in Birmingham for as long as possible.  It makes a lot less sense today with a blazing hangover after almost missing my taxi and by extension, my train.  I ran out of the house this morning after literally being up for five minutes.  Thankfully I’d packed ahead of time.  Unfortunately for my neighbours I’d also managed to sleep through 40 minutes of my alarm blaring.  Just for future reference, not such a good idea to mix rum, whiskey and white wine in one night.  Though those mojitos were VERY good.

The thing is, I’m not at all one of those women who are freaking out about turning 30.  I’m actually looking forward to it.  My twenties were such a disaster (ok, to be fair, my EARLY twenties were a disaster.  My late twenties have been pretty awesome.  Much less angst).  I figure my thirties can only get better.  30 doesn’t really scare me.  I say, bring it on, 30!  Unfortunately you may not have known that from seeing me last night.

A little background.  I went through quite a long period of time being quite depressed, at least I think so in hindsight.  I tend to view that time as ‘being a teenager’ but I digress.  It sucked.  I was sad ALL THE TIME.  I felt horrible and down and hated everything about myself and my life.  I started taking long naps when I got home from school.  My mom got me tested for anemia, thinking there must be a medical reason that I was choosing to sleep my life away.  I thought I just couldn’t face my life anymore and would rather just sleep.  I thought there was no other way to feel that that way. Thankfully, I managed to come out of that without medical intervention or therapy, but I consider myself very very lucky that it didn’t get worse.  I know it could have.  I’ve been much better for years now and generally consider that time a part of my past, not my present.

Well.  Last night that assumption knocked me straight on my ass.  I felt LOW.  Really low.  Sad and down and blue and every other word you can think of to describe feeling really really shitty for no conceivable reason.  And I felt bad about it, because it was my fucking BIRTHDAY.  I was supposed to be happy and smiley and thankful for the friends that came out to celebrate with me.  They came out and ate sushi, even though most of them hate it, just because that’s what I wanted to eat.  And I was thankful.  But I still felt shitty.  And no, it wasn’t because I was getting older or because my family is far away or any other reason.  I just felt sad.  For no reason whatsoever.  And there is nothing harder than trying to explain why you feel so crappy when there’s no explanation. 

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ll let you in on a little secret.  I hate crying.  I don’t mind when other people do it, but I HATE it when I cry.  I try to do it as little as possible because I don’t find it cathartic or freeing or helpful as a method to just get the EMOTIONS OUT.  I see it as a weakness, which I know is totally lame but that’s how I feel.  But last night I was standing outside the pub, with the tears flowing out of my eyes, feeling exposed and emotional and I just couldn’t figure out where these tears were coming from.  I kept wiping them away as quickly as I could, like if I could just keep them from actually hitting my cheeks, then I could deny they were even there at all.

This is the thing.  Sometimes that dark place just comes up and grabs you and drags you down and there is just nothing you can do about it. 

I really can’t say much more than that.  I know I babble on excessively most of the time.  I enjoy a good run on sentence.  I write pretty much how I talk, which is pretty much how I think, which is quickly and a lot.  But sometimes words just fail.  Sometimes things just get difficult and dark and there’s no explanation other than that life just feels too hard sometimes. 

But today’s actually turned out to be a good day.  I had friends last night to talk me out of my funk.  I have friends I’m travelling to see today.  Plus it’s spring, so this entire train trip I’ve been travelling by cavorting lambs and calves, which are just the most adorable things ever.  I have good tunes on my ipod and I’m shamelessly mouthing along to the words, even though the girl sitting across from me is looking at me like I’m insane.  Maybe I am, just a little bit.  But that’s ok too.  Because today, unlike yesterday, is a pretty good day.

Just as an aside, we pulled into the station at Crewe and I saw three year old girl wearing two inch pink high heels.  What is up with that?  Does anyone else but me think that’s a little bit strange?