I really have the most magical nephews in the entire world. I am just so in love with the world right now just because of spending a few hours with them.
I had just read them a bedtime story, and as I always do to try and do something to encourage some imagination I asked them what they were going to dream about.
James said "dinosaurs!" and talked for ages about a place called Dinosaurworld that really exists, but no person has ever been there and he wants to go there when hes old like me (charming!)
Owen was being quiet and contemplative, and so I asked him again what he was going to dream about. James was still talking about dinosaurs and Owen had gone shy, finger hanging from his mouth thoughtfully, big brown eyes sparkling at me. I held eye contact with him so that he'd know I was listening to whatever he had to say.
"What are you going to dream about tonight, Owen?"
"Everything"
And he said it with such wonder, such love, such excitement for a world he was still growing into, I was taken aback and still am by the absolute awe in his tiny, one worded statement. He is so little, not even four yet, but he summed up so perfectly in one word how I think about the world, and if that's how he thinks about it too I will just burst with love for... everything.
A beautiful song
Thursday, 2 October 2008
Saturday, 20 September 2008
a tale of magic and hope
I don't know why this confuses me but I feel awfully confused. We all know my raging and unhealthy obsession over fittie is rife. I just think he's fantastic. Hilarious and nice and all of these adjectives people use to describe people they fancy. But it's strange, and it sounds gay to say it, but I've always felt in my obsessed and unhealthy mind like there was some kind of wavelength thing going on here. So different but somehow he seems to get me and I think in a way I get him too. He was guidance when I was unsure what the fuck I was doing in my job, and maybe that's the basis of all this, but I'm not unsure anymore and I still feel weird every time he walks past.
I feel like I want to write a book about this just so I get to dwell on it.
Anyway, he wanted to see some of my writing. I didn't have anything accessible so told him to give me a subject and I'd write him something. (Yes, Pixie, that old chestnut!) He said, "A 12 year old Latvian forced to join a travelling circus. It's a comedy".
Now really.
So I wrote him a story, and named the 12 year old Latvian after him, and filled it with references to a book by an anonymous author that I'm convinced Fittie wrote and mentions of work stuff. I sent it to him and he liked it, amazingly, and said he wanted to turn it into some kind of relay thing.
Now, he's written me things before, always fantastic and imaginative but not exactly the norm when it comes to writing stories or poetry. I've loved them all and have always been impressed, but thought in this story writing experience he'd have the ideas and I'd have the sentence structure. (haha I know).
He stayed late at work last night and wrote his chapter and sent it to my personal email address. "A tale of magic and hope by Serena May and Josh Lover".
I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought maybe he had stolen it from somewhere but seriously, where would he miraculously find a piece of writing about a 12 year old Latvian who has just killed everyone in the circus. He projects this image of being a bit of a sports jock type, a ladies man with a conscience, he scratches his head and feigns confusion with everyone else at work but he's so sharp and quietly takes on the world and wins when nobody is looking. He's mysterious and the more I learn about him, the better he gets, even with all the flaws and rough edges and failings.
The chapter he sent me was amazing. Truly, utterly amazing. He describes the landscape like he could touch it, like he was standing there. He uses the most incredible phrasing, words that don't seem to go together get married up. I was wowed, amazed, impressed. I feel like I'm in awe of him now, whereas before I could deal with the fact that he was the extreme of all of these things. I'm trying to kick a pedestal from under him but there isn't one, because every time I get over the fact he's amazing in one way he does something else that blows my mind.
I really don't know. I'm going to get some balls though. I'm going to tell him how amazing this is, and leave out the bit about the unhealthy obsession, and see how freaked out he gets. Maybe it's better that it goes back to him forgetting I exist and me getting on with my life.
He's still moving to Mexico in December though. Fucks sake!
I feel like I want to write a book about this just so I get to dwell on it.
Anyway, he wanted to see some of my writing. I didn't have anything accessible so told him to give me a subject and I'd write him something. (Yes, Pixie, that old chestnut!) He said, "A 12 year old Latvian forced to join a travelling circus. It's a comedy".
Now really.
So I wrote him a story, and named the 12 year old Latvian after him, and filled it with references to a book by an anonymous author that I'm convinced Fittie wrote and mentions of work stuff. I sent it to him and he liked it, amazingly, and said he wanted to turn it into some kind of relay thing.
Now, he's written me things before, always fantastic and imaginative but not exactly the norm when it comes to writing stories or poetry. I've loved them all and have always been impressed, but thought in this story writing experience he'd have the ideas and I'd have the sentence structure. (haha I know).
He stayed late at work last night and wrote his chapter and sent it to my personal email address. "A tale of magic and hope by Serena May and Josh Lover".
I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought maybe he had stolen it from somewhere but seriously, where would he miraculously find a piece of writing about a 12 year old Latvian who has just killed everyone in the circus. He projects this image of being a bit of a sports jock type, a ladies man with a conscience, he scratches his head and feigns confusion with everyone else at work but he's so sharp and quietly takes on the world and wins when nobody is looking. He's mysterious and the more I learn about him, the better he gets, even with all the flaws and rough edges and failings.
The chapter he sent me was amazing. Truly, utterly amazing. He describes the landscape like he could touch it, like he was standing there. He uses the most incredible phrasing, words that don't seem to go together get married up. I was wowed, amazed, impressed. I feel like I'm in awe of him now, whereas before I could deal with the fact that he was the extreme of all of these things. I'm trying to kick a pedestal from under him but there isn't one, because every time I get over the fact he's amazing in one way he does something else that blows my mind.
I really don't know. I'm going to get some balls though. I'm going to tell him how amazing this is, and leave out the bit about the unhealthy obsession, and see how freaked out he gets. Maybe it's better that it goes back to him forgetting I exist and me getting on with my life.
He's still moving to Mexico in December though. Fucks sake!
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Thursday, 21 August 2008
Nasal drama
I hate having a face.
On Tuesday, I had a bit of a calamity. It was a well timed calamity and everyone is telling me to sue. That feels a bit dramatic though, really. I'm not the suing type, I'd rather shut up and get on with my life really. I'd love to get paid for doing stupid things occasionally, because that's all it is isn't it. But I don't know, see what you think.
Our facilities management company sent out an email containing the minutes of a recent meeting. One of the issues raised was addressed as follows;
Q: A number of people have reported tripping on the atrium staircase, can we investigate the new stair tread thickness as it is a tripping hazard.
A: There have not been any accidents of this nature reported to the *company* Accident Reporting Helpline and consequently this makes it very difficult to assess the risk. The staircase has been inspected by myself and Another Person who is the Facilities Manager for Bristol and Bath. We are both of an opinion that the stair treads replaced in April 2007 which are only between ground and the first floor are not raised and do not pose a trip hazard, whilst the texture of them might be slightly thicker than on the other stairs they have a tapered leading edge which is perfectly safe. I can only advise that people using this staircase take care whilst doing so.
This was sent at 1.20pm on Tuesday. At 1.45pm, I was on my way down for a cigarette, when I tripped on the aforementioned stair treads and fell down a flight of stairs. All I remember is the ground disappearing and the stairs flying towards me, the crash of my back against something just after I had closed my eyes and suddenly something mashing my nose against my face. When I landed I was on my knees, and remember saying something like "oh shit, I'm bleeding" - which was obvious as after the first few drips it was pretty much pouring out of my face. There were two people behind me who I knew, and they were immediately there - one poor guy who was pretty squeamish and made a polite but desperate exit almost immediately afterwards, and one lovely lady who I have called Mum for yonks because she just looks after people constantly.
The atrium is in the middle of the building. It is not a very subtle place to twat it onto your face and then sit there, white and shaking, while everything you can see slowly turns red. The crowds formed quickly but everyone was nice, either concerned for me or appalled at the bloodbath or both. (To date, only one person has laughed in my face. "What's not to laugh at?") I've heard from several sources that of the people who tried to have a look, not a single person thought it was funny. I work in an office full of cocks so I don't think this is bad going.
Apparently I went white, apologised to everyone a hundred times for being such a bother was not very good at all at being so crowded by concerned people. Polite though, and I didn't cry. I'm quite proud of how I handled the entire thing. This is my blog and I can be a twat if I want to - I was pretty great.
I wanted to go somewhere out of view so was helped into an office while some kind people mopped up the blood. I got very dizzy and quite sick, and was pretty close to passing out. When the colour came back and I was a bit more lucid, I realised I was covered in sweat even though I was ice cold. I don't know if I mentioned this but there was quite a lot of blood, you know. Oh dear god, the blood.
The FM company then sent this:
Ladies and Gents,
Following an unfortunate accident on the atrium staircase this afternoon, a decision has been taken to close off this staircase from the 1st floor down to the ground floor whilst a full investigation into the accident has taken place. Please could I ask all staff to use the lifts or alternative staircases during the investigation.
Apologies for the inconvenience caused.
So there was a hospital visit, and lots of voicemails left for people, a bit of a nightmare trying to park followed by an amusing walk to the hospital where people shielded their kids from me, the blood stained monster who thought all the concerned looks were hilarious. When we got into the lift we were soon joined by a policeman who looked at me funny. "Are you alright?" he said, scratching his bald and shiny head. "Yeah, I've broken my leg" I quipped, then smiled and gestured with the bloody tissues I had still under my nose. "Oh" he replied, looking a tad confused. "Have you done something to your nose as well?"
The worst bit was the nurse cleaning me up. As gentle as she was, there's a cut on the bridge of my nose that must be the point of impact as it was bloody bloody painful when she was wiping all the crusty clots off of there.
I have to go see an ENT specialist on Friday, where he's probably going to poke me a lot. I'm dreading that the most, to be honest. Lots of people have said to sue the FM company but ugh. I'd rather just get on with my life.
Ho hum, eh!
On Tuesday, I had a bit of a calamity. It was a well timed calamity and everyone is telling me to sue. That feels a bit dramatic though, really. I'm not the suing type, I'd rather shut up and get on with my life really. I'd love to get paid for doing stupid things occasionally, because that's all it is isn't it. But I don't know, see what you think.
Our facilities management company sent out an email containing the minutes of a recent meeting. One of the issues raised was addressed as follows;
Q: A number of people have reported tripping on the atrium staircase, can we investigate the new stair tread thickness as it is a tripping hazard.
A: There have not been any accidents of this nature reported to the *company* Accident Reporting Helpline and consequently this makes it very difficult to assess the risk. The staircase has been inspected by myself and Another Person who is the Facilities Manager for Bristol and Bath. We are both of an opinion that the stair treads replaced in April 2007 which are only between ground and the first floor are not raised and do not pose a trip hazard, whilst the texture of them might be slightly thicker than on the other stairs they have a tapered leading edge which is perfectly safe. I can only advise that people using this staircase take care whilst doing so.
This was sent at 1.20pm on Tuesday. At 1.45pm, I was on my way down for a cigarette, when I tripped on the aforementioned stair treads and fell down a flight of stairs. All I remember is the ground disappearing and the stairs flying towards me, the crash of my back against something just after I had closed my eyes and suddenly something mashing my nose against my face. When I landed I was on my knees, and remember saying something like "oh shit, I'm bleeding" - which was obvious as after the first few drips it was pretty much pouring out of my face. There were two people behind me who I knew, and they were immediately there - one poor guy who was pretty squeamish and made a polite but desperate exit almost immediately afterwards, and one lovely lady who I have called Mum for yonks because she just looks after people constantly.
The atrium is in the middle of the building. It is not a very subtle place to twat it onto your face and then sit there, white and shaking, while everything you can see slowly turns red. The crowds formed quickly but everyone was nice, either concerned for me or appalled at the bloodbath or both. (To date, only one person has laughed in my face. "What's not to laugh at?") I've heard from several sources that of the people who tried to have a look, not a single person thought it was funny. I work in an office full of cocks so I don't think this is bad going.
Apparently I went white, apologised to everyone a hundred times for being such a bother was not very good at all at being so crowded by concerned people. Polite though, and I didn't cry. I'm quite proud of how I handled the entire thing. This is my blog and I can be a twat if I want to - I was pretty great.
I wanted to go somewhere out of view so was helped into an office while some kind people mopped up the blood. I got very dizzy and quite sick, and was pretty close to passing out. When the colour came back and I was a bit more lucid, I realised I was covered in sweat even though I was ice cold. I don't know if I mentioned this but there was quite a lot of blood, you know. Oh dear god, the blood.
The FM company then sent this:
Ladies and Gents,
Following an unfortunate accident on the atrium staircase this afternoon, a decision has been taken to close off this staircase from the 1st floor down to the ground floor whilst a full investigation into the accident has taken place. Please could I ask all staff to use the lifts or alternative staircases during the investigation.
Apologies for the inconvenience caused.
So there was a hospital visit, and lots of voicemails left for people, a bit of a nightmare trying to park followed by an amusing walk to the hospital where people shielded their kids from me, the blood stained monster who thought all the concerned looks were hilarious. When we got into the lift we were soon joined by a policeman who looked at me funny. "Are you alright?" he said, scratching his bald and shiny head. "Yeah, I've broken my leg" I quipped, then smiled and gestured with the bloody tissues I had still under my nose. "Oh" he replied, looking a tad confused. "Have you done something to your nose as well?"
The worst bit was the nurse cleaning me up. As gentle as she was, there's a cut on the bridge of my nose that must be the point of impact as it was bloody bloody painful when she was wiping all the crusty clots off of there.
I have to go see an ENT specialist on Friday, where he's probably going to poke me a lot. I'm dreading that the most, to be honest. Lots of people have said to sue the FM company but ugh. I'd rather just get on with my life.
Ho hum, eh!
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
Thank god I don't work in the call centrey bit of my company, I'd imagine most of the calls they get go like this:
Customer: Hello, I've broken my phone
Us: Right, what's wrong with it?
Customer: The toast won't come out
Us: What?
Customer: Yes, it's stuck, it won't toast, it's just white crumbly bread
Us: Why is there bread in your phone?
Customer: I'm hungry
Us: So why did you put bread in your PHONE?
Customer: So that I could eat some toast
Us: What happens when you try to make a phone call?
Customer: Um, I don't know, let me try it. Wait someone's on the phone, let me call you back when they're off the phone
Us: OK
*two minutes later*
Customer: Hello, me again, sorry the person on the phone was me
Us: You're using the phone with the bread in it?
Customer: Yes, of course, I only have one phone, what else am I going to use?
Us: The phone with the bread in it?
Customer: Exactly.
Us: Exactly?
Customer: Yes
Us: Ow, my brain
Customer: So, how am I going to do my toast?
Us: Do you own a toaster?
Customer: A what?
Us: A toaster. To make toast.
Customer: Well yes, that's what I'm using. Are you in India?
Us: No. And you're not, you're jamming chunks of bread into your phone. Where is the bread now?
Customer: It's back on the plate, I had to take it out so I could phone you back after I got off the phone.
Us: So is the phone still broken?
Customer: No, but it will be when I stop talking to you again and put the bread back in. It's just not getting brown though!
Us: Stop putting bread in your phone.
Customer: Right, ok. And then how am I going to make my toast?
Us: Buy a toaster.
Customer: A what?
Us: Maybe use the grill? Do you have one of those on your oven?
Customer: I think so, I'll have to wait until after Cash In The Attic though.
*EDIT* Ten minutes later I had the following phone call. This is actually real, only identifying details have been changed. (I just wanted to sound dramatic).
Me: Hi there my name is Katey I am calling from this company about the *blah* pod. Has the extension been installed ok?
Him: Ummm the what?
Me: The extension? It's like a phone line.
Him: I don't know really, how would I be able to tell?
Me: An engineer turned up and put a wire in there?
Him: Oh right. Hmm.
Me: Did a handset arrive as well?
Him: I don't know
Me: Can you go and have a look?
Him: I'm in the pod now
Me: Sorry... you're in the pod? Now?
Him: Yep
Me: And you're on the phone to me?
Him: Yep
Me: So there's a phone in there?
Him: Yep... ohhhhh! Yes there's a phone and an extension!
Me: And it's working ok by the sounds of it
Him: Oh, wait, I don't know if it is
Me: We're on the phone to each other. It's fine.
Him: Yeah I suppose it is isn't it. Great, thanks!
Customer: Hello, I've broken my phone
Us: Right, what's wrong with it?
Customer: The toast won't come out
Us: What?
Customer: Yes, it's stuck, it won't toast, it's just white crumbly bread
Us: Why is there bread in your phone?
Customer: I'm hungry
Us: So why did you put bread in your PHONE?
Customer: So that I could eat some toast
Us: What happens when you try to make a phone call?
Customer: Um, I don't know, let me try it. Wait someone's on the phone, let me call you back when they're off the phone
Us: OK
*two minutes later*
Customer: Hello, me again, sorry the person on the phone was me
Us: You're using the phone with the bread in it?
Customer: Yes, of course, I only have one phone, what else am I going to use?
Us: The phone with the bread in it?
Customer: Exactly.
Us: Exactly?
Customer: Yes
Us: Ow, my brain
Customer: So, how am I going to do my toast?
Us: Do you own a toaster?
Customer: A what?
Us: A toaster. To make toast.
Customer: Well yes, that's what I'm using. Are you in India?
Us: No. And you're not, you're jamming chunks of bread into your phone. Where is the bread now?
Customer: It's back on the plate, I had to take it out so I could phone you back after I got off the phone.
Us: So is the phone still broken?
Customer: No, but it will be when I stop talking to you again and put the bread back in. It's just not getting brown though!
Us: Stop putting bread in your phone.
Customer: Right, ok. And then how am I going to make my toast?
Us: Buy a toaster.
Customer: A what?
Us: Maybe use the grill? Do you have one of those on your oven?
Customer: I think so, I'll have to wait until after Cash In The Attic though.
*EDIT* Ten minutes later I had the following phone call. This is actually real, only identifying details have been changed. (I just wanted to sound dramatic).
Me: Hi there my name is Katey I am calling from this company about the *blah* pod. Has the extension been installed ok?
Him: Ummm the what?
Me: The extension? It's like a phone line.
Him: I don't know really, how would I be able to tell?
Me: An engineer turned up and put a wire in there?
Him: Oh right. Hmm.
Me: Did a handset arrive as well?
Him: I don't know
Me: Can you go and have a look?
Him: I'm in the pod now
Me: Sorry... you're in the pod? Now?
Him: Yep
Me: And you're on the phone to me?
Him: Yep
Me: So there's a phone in there?
Him: Yep... ohhhhh! Yes there's a phone and an extension!
Me: And it's working ok by the sounds of it
Him: Oh, wait, I don't know if it is
Me: We're on the phone to each other. It's fine.
Him: Yeah I suppose it is isn't it. Great, thanks!
Sunday, 3 August 2008
Yesterday was a lovely day of frolicking in London with some of the best people I know. But it was more than that in a way - as I was sitting on a train leaving Bristol behind me I really had the most strange zen-like feeling. I was just sitting on a train and I realised that I had been feeling so tense for months, and I only realised it when the tension was melting away. It was the sparkle reappearing, and I loved the world, overwhelmingly calm with my cheap as shit sunglasses perched atop my bad hair day and the guy next to me screaming down the phone in Nigerian.
When I got there, things that would normally leave me a seething wreck of passive agression weren't so annoying anymore - the crowds were pulsing and massive and that was ok, people with suitcases and prams cut me up at every two paces and I found myself smiling at the thought of them going somewhere nice for their holiday, and not scowling at them for having the audacity to exist.
People who are is really amazing therapy and I feel so much better and stronger over the last few days. I don't understand it yet and don't really want to talk about it because of that but god you guys are great.
This song is so chilled out and fabulous: Rehab - Sitting at a Bar
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
I'm thinking a lot at the moment about things that I wish were finite. I wish I believed in destiny and had something to relax on - I worry that my life will not be wonderful but wouldn't it be nice if I could just trust that it will be what it will be and regardless what I do will not change the way it is fated to be.
But I don't believe that. What do I believe? I don't know, really.
I certainly believe in people, and that we have the ability to save the world, but I also don't believe that will happen. I don't believe in any god, or any higher power, or anything ethereal that loves us relentlessly whether we want it to or not. If there is a god, he fucking hates us.
I believe you have to create your own magic in the world, and that sparkle is in every moment if you can find it, that those who can are blessed, and that those who can't are the ones who are ultimately unhappy. I believe appreciation goes a long way, that forgiveness is so important but that it makes no difference to the person or event that wronged you. I believe in love and I believe that love, of any description, brings magic and makes the sparkle brighter. I love hard and fast and blindly and I throw caution into the wind, I believe that love truly can conquer all but that it can't do it alone.
There is so much that I haven't quite figured out yet, and even if I ever do I don't quite know what I'll do then. How do we know which decision to make, which choice, which path? I have no clue. All I know is that within the last five years my life has not changed in any important ways and that realisation has made me feel really unhappy. I crave adventure but I am as alone as I have ever been.
What do we do when we lose something we never thought we would lose? I'm facing that at the moment and it's strange. All these plans I had and I keep thinking about these things and then catching myself, reminding myself that it's not going to happen now.
Maybe I've been too harsh, too selfish. Maybe not.
But I don't believe that. What do I believe? I don't know, really.
I certainly believe in people, and that we have the ability to save the world, but I also don't believe that will happen. I don't believe in any god, or any higher power, or anything ethereal that loves us relentlessly whether we want it to or not. If there is a god, he fucking hates us.
I believe you have to create your own magic in the world, and that sparkle is in every moment if you can find it, that those who can are blessed, and that those who can't are the ones who are ultimately unhappy. I believe appreciation goes a long way, that forgiveness is so important but that it makes no difference to the person or event that wronged you. I believe in love and I believe that love, of any description, brings magic and makes the sparkle brighter. I love hard and fast and blindly and I throw caution into the wind, I believe that love truly can conquer all but that it can't do it alone.
There is so much that I haven't quite figured out yet, and even if I ever do I don't quite know what I'll do then. How do we know which decision to make, which choice, which path? I have no clue. All I know is that within the last five years my life has not changed in any important ways and that realisation has made me feel really unhappy. I crave adventure but I am as alone as I have ever been.
What do we do when we lose something we never thought we would lose? I'm facing that at the moment and it's strange. All these plans I had and I keep thinking about these things and then catching myself, reminding myself that it's not going to happen now.
Maybe I've been too harsh, too selfish. Maybe not.
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