When Words don’t come easy

I usually have something to say. Words hardly ever come difficult for someone like me. Sometimes I have so much to say that I talk inside my head, and probably out loud now and again like a proper mental. And I would often write poems if I feel like I have more to say. But not on that particular lovely day in August.

I have dreamt of it many times before. I have fantasized and thought over and over in my head what I should say first because I had an awful lot of things that I wanted to say. I have worried that my nerves might get the better of me and I might not be able to say anything at all. I was partly right about that bit. But it wasn’t because of my nerves. In fact, I wasn’t nervous at all. His face was so familiar like I’ve seen him so many times before. And then it hit me – I have stared at his face on my computer screen so many times that it had become engraved on my memory. I watched his face carefully half-knowing I won’t see him again, and thought “Ah, so this was the bloke who sang to me whilst playing his guitar over the phone, probably cost him a lot. What was that song again? Ah, Slide by The Goo Goo Dolls. I even wrote a poem called “May” after that, I remember”.

But I just sat there in the passenger seat of his car with nothing to say like an idiot. I guess in some way we have become strangers. I’d usually throw a compliment or two to people, but I couldn’t at that point in time. Even after he said I looked more gorgeous than he remembers. Or that I look totally amazing. I wish I could have thrown him something nice to say apart from a lame ‘you smell good’. It’s ridiculous I know! I was somewhat relieved that we both didn’t know where to go to have a sit down for coffee and a chat. Well, I kind of did know one in the town but it was too awkward. And I felt like we had nothing to talk about. And to be honest, I kept thinking of nasty things he had done and said to me and I struggled to remember something nice. To top it all off, he walked in front of me, which just costed him a thousand good points. Apart from that though, he had been nice and polite. Too polite as I thought he could be. He even said that bum squeeze might be inevitable as that is how he hugged, but when he gave me a hug his hands didn’t even go anywhere near the small of my back. I teased him about it just as he was leaving and we had a little giggle. He had said that if I am still here in two week’s time, he could call again and stay longer. I think I just grunted a short “hmm..” because I just didn’t know what to say. Even after he’s left and sent me a text message reading he was so close to turning back, and he asked me if he was what I expected. Even now I can’t answer that question. I suppose fifteen minutes is not enough to give an honest answer to that question. So I am going to leave that for now, and when I have a fair answer to it, I will tell him.

Some time ago he had told me that he came so close to going to the Philippines to see me, but then he thought to himself that I wouldn’t have done the same for him. So I guess he never really knew me after all. I always think that if you care enough about someone, you wouldn’t have to think about such a silly thing. It doesn’t matter if that person would do the same for you if they could. Love finds joy in doing something special without being afraid that it won’t be reciprocated. Unfortunately, he is the sort of person who likes to take more than give. And there is nothing wrong with that – unless you know well that you can give more but you still don’t and you just keep taking anyway. It’s very selfish and insecure.

Love really is blind, isn’t it? I will never think of him this way back then. I met my husband on the internet as well, but we have never run out of things to talk about even on the first day we ever met each other outside the virtual world. There is no competition there. But I could do with a friend here in England :-p And he seemed like a nice person, a bit different from that one he portrays to be on the internet. And well, I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to be friends with me. But it’s not like we live anywhere near each other and besides, I am not sure words will come to me the next time we see each other again. We’re as good as two strangers could be. It’s really hard to pick up the pieces when they have all been blown by the wind to the sea, and drowned by the water.

“So how come you two broke up? Maybe you should try patching things up since you seem to love her very much.”

“Well I don’t know. It just wasn’t working out and she’s decided to move to Sheffield, and it's hard. You know what it’s like, you’ve been there.”

“Ha ha Yeah, Sheffield and Bristol really is like England and the Philippines”

That is just most ridiculous.

It's a rather small world.

Life is so full of surprises and unexpected turns. Sometimes I am not sure if my life is especially different from the normal ones of my friends and family.

Four years ago, I met someone online who took my virtual breath away. He was gorgeous on his photo and even on the crappiest of web cams. We talked a lot online and on the phone. You could say we were part of each others life. I would tell him every thing, even some things I wouldn't dare tell any one. He did some very thoughtful things, some I could only vaguely remember because we have had many disagreements and arguments that have clouded my best memories of him. At his best, he was the man of my dreams, but at his worst he is an absolute, self-centered pig. I don't know how it was possible at all. The man of my dreams is a chauvinist pig? OK, well perhaps those are too strong an adjective but I can't word it any better. We have got nothing in common as far as I remember and this makes me wonder how I could have possibly thought he was the one. Well he is tall, blond, surfer dude, animal-loving person and absolutely fantastic on the guitar - in a perfect world he was my dream guy. But he thinks football is for losers, he hates the music I like, he hates the bands that I really like, he thinks computer games are gay... OK, I just remembered something we have in common: we love animals and the beach, we like the stars and the sunsets. Definitely not enough to hold us together when things around us starts falling apart. In the four years that I have known him though, we were only in-touch for less than half of that. We just kept falling out until I decided I can't take any more shit from him. Men were not at all in short supply, quite the opposite actually. And that was when I bumped into James' fake profile (See what I mean? My life is full of drama). But I am not going to discuss that right now.

He wasn't all bad as I would not have liked him so much. I simply didn't complement his personality. We both have strong, aggressive personalities and as a result, we crashed all the time. I'm sure he will be a great partner to someone who is less aggressive than me, and less argumentative.

Did I cry over him? Yes, I did. I cried because I have accepted the fact that he is not meant for me. I cried for always liking someone who is too far away. I cried for falling in love for the first time and finding out it was impossible, so yes of course I cried. I cried most of all when he sent me emails saying he missed me and thought of me all the time, only to get another one the following morning saying he was just drunk when he wrote it and that he doesn't mean what he said in it. He didn't mean it both times he sent me what I call "drunken email". I am not stupid, I know he meant it. If he was that pissed, he wouldn't even be able to switch his computer on., let alone type out a long ass email to me. A week before I got married, I have sent him a text telling him the news, and I got a reply which read: "I'm happy now so don't text me again". Later, after watching my wedding videos online, he said he thought I was joking and only wanted his attention. This disgusted me and decided he is the biggest ass in the world. Why the hell would I have to do such thing to grab his attention? I'd much rather send him a picture of me in a bikini if that was my intention. He thinks so highly of himself and he thinks I worship the ground he stood on. To be honest, back then, all I wanted to do was spit on that same ground.

But years have passed, and so have the strong emotions. My life has changed and I had been blessed with many wonderful things since. I am no longer angry with him and I no longer take him seriously. They say first love never dies, but I disagree. Your first love will teach you how to recognise love when it comes and how to respond to the feeling. Your first love may teach you an awful lot about life, but when you find your one TRUE love, your first love is only a part of your diary, a chapter in your life just a bit more special than the others. You may find yourself looking back to the time when you recognised love for the first love, but don't we all reminisce a part of our life one time or another? Just because there are things still reminding you of your first love doesn't mean it never dies. It simply means that you have not found your One TRUE love who will make you realise you deserve more. And since I am confident that I am over him 101%, I agreed that he can come see me on his drive back to Bristol. It wasn't so much as I wanted to see what he is like in the flesh, but more like I wanted him to see what I am like in the flesh.

So four years later, I came face-to-face with the man that is Gareth. I gave him a kiss, and I was right after all, even if I didn't think so at the time. As goodlooking and appealing as he is, he is not the one for me. Looking and talking to him for a brief fifteen minutes seemed longer than it was. My heart was so steady and calm. That is all I have to say. The only exciting thing about it is the fact that out of all the many countries in the world, who would have thought I'd marry someone from England? Gareth and I were meant to meet, just as we have thought. He told me it was a shame the circumstances were different as he first hoped, I nodded and smiled, but in my head I thought: "Thank God for that". Shame he doesn't look anywhere near as good as he did four years ago. But on a positive note, it was really nice of him to say that if I ever need anything, I should not hesitate to give him a ring. Classic G: when you're just about to decide what an ass he is, he says or does something to counter this. Well, maybe he had been wrong when he said we can never be friends. The world is so small, and England is but a dot.

WOW Family

My brother and his wife's characters:

• Keldar - Level 70 mage
• Aamira - Level 70 Warlock
• Bentsplinter - Level 70 Druid
• Nayumi - Level 70 Paladin

Mine and James's:

• Foxychick - Level 70 Hunter
• Vivien - Level 70 Paladin
• Jamesav - Level 70 Priest
• Electra - Level 70 Shaman
• Icyheart - Level 70 Mage
• Athenajpa - Level 70 Warrior
• Mika - Level 70 Rogue
• Level 26 Horde Lock and Priest on Aerie Peak with same name as the first two ^_^
  

My sister and her hubby's:

• Maxs - Level 70 Hunter
• Daniganda - Level 70 Shaman
• Chachu - Level 41 Warrior

**All characters on Kazzak Realm**

Spot the difference!

April 2008



August 2008

My First Day in College

Today was my first day in College. Something came up that I didn't make it on Monday, so Tuesday it was. It's James's day off today so he took me to there and renewed the books I borrowed from the Library for me.
It was quite an easy process, I filled in a form, I read and signed the contract, I gave Carla the check that Maddie has prepared for me on Saturday night and she gave me my Student Record Card and my workbook. She then showed me where the loos are and the coffee machine, and through another door was the private workstations. Apparently, the workstations outside , which is the first thing that you will see upon entering the building, are for government-funded students. It made sense to both James and I after finding that out.
Carla started me on Word 2003, after determining from my interview that I don't need to be taught "how to use the computer" and Keyboard Basics. It was more interesting than I thought it was going to be because I actually learned a few stuff. But of course there were quite a number of times where I did not follow exactly as the audio lesson said because I am use to using hot keys instead of clicking on the standard toolbar, like ctrl + c for copy etc. I completed five lessons and five exercises with only one mistake. I think I may have deselected the title when I changed it's font size so that it didn't take effect. All in all, I did 7 hours today and I made my own schedule and I reckon I'd be able to do 40 hours a week, Mondays-Thursdays.
At 4PM, James came and collected me and we went for a walk around the town, and he bought me a really great looking and fab feeling white coat from Bay. And a really nice fashionable top, as well as a long-sleeved black top that has a ribbon around the waist so it's still sexy. And now he's just brought me my tea, ready meal tonight as he didn't feel like a full meal, and I don't either, so the creamy chicken cottage pie will have to wait till tomorrow evening. And I've got to eat before my tea gets cold, so I will write more later xx

So what's up with me? I bet you're dying to know.

Yesterday, James and I had a productive day as what his mother would call it. Since being ill for two weeks and mending my right kidney, it was great to actually be out to town again with James. At 11, we were in SpecsSavers for my sight test, which my mother-in-law has booked for me. She had been wishing I'd go for an eye test since noticing that I squint when I look at her when she speaks to me. And I admitted that I could not make out her facial features at a certain distance, that I would not recognise her until she utters a word. She felt I needed to see an optician, and that's what I did. After a series of test, mostly reading letters and telling the optician which looked clearer to me as she adjusted each picture, (which made me really dizzy and I wouldn't doubt if the test made my sight even worse) the optician has told me that I definitely need to wear glasses, especially if I start driving, and she would suggest wearing them at all times so it doesn't get worse. My prescription states that my right eye is worse than my left, -1.25 and -1.00, whatever that means because nobody really bothered explaining it to me. I'm guessing I'm short-sighted since I find it difficult seeing distant objects.
Now the dilemma is whether to get glasses or not. If it were up to me, definitely NO. Firstly, Prescription glasses may cost James up to £150, which is really ridiculous. Secondly, glasses don't suit me, and thirdly (to counter Maddie's suggestion of contact lenses) I hate contacts! I have tried them before because I looked cool with grey eyes, but it's a huge pain in the arse to put in, let alone to take out. My vision was perfect before I got here. My mum was amazed how I can read really small text on the computer from the far side of her bed, and now I can't even watch the telly properly. I think it's a side effect of the contraceptive I have been prescribed. This all began when I started taking them, and I noticed a week later that I could not see my own reflection in the mirror, and I even told James that I can't see people's faces when we went to the supermarket the following day. Maybe my doctor can change my pill and my sight will be back to it's normal perfectness. But no glasses for me, thankyouverymuch.

We were just in time for my appointment in Pitman Training with Carla, good job it's just around the corner from Specs. Carla was a very tall woman, a bit plump to my standard but probably normal to James's English one. But she was very nice and friendly and polite. She not only explained the courses to me, but also suggested some things we could do to hasten the process. It's flexi studies so I make my own schedule, and just let them know. You know the feeling when you just want to get things done and over with, that's exactly what I felt, so I said I will sign up for the secretarial course which will run for 180 hours, over a period of 6 weeks, but I was told if I find a job during that time, they are open to make adjustments, but I doubt it. So at the end of the course, I shall have a diploma in Secretarial Course, and an OCR certificate from Pitman Training, but of course I would need to pass the tests after each unit. I get to choose two electives which is cool, I said I want to study Flash/Photoshop expert and Carla said I may do that but neither are really useful to being a secretary. I perfectly know that, me not being a complete idiot of course, it's just something I have always wanted to be good at. But anyway, my electives can be decided on much later in the training. So I start on Monday, quite happy about it actually. My parents-in-law paid for the tuition fee. £2,500 for a 6week-course and one diploma.The £5,000 tuition fee in Chesterfield College for an ICT course over a period of a year sounds cheaper to me now, to be honest. I never thought they will be so generous to me. I expected them to just be a snob and blame me for their son's failure to complete University. I mean, after all, if not for me, James would be getting his degree in Biology this year. He is very lucky to have a pair of wonderful parents. His upbringing is the best he could ask for, really. Sometimes it is so overwhelming that saying "thank you" is not barely enough, but I guess it will have to do.
It's just started raining here now, and I think I will finish my book by Penny Vincezi called "An Absolute Scandal" which is proving to be really engrossing.

The spirit that will guard the Allen Garden

It has been a week but it still haunts me until now. I'm always paranoid when I hear even the slightest noise against the windows, or the patio door.
James and I were having a lovely Sunday meal when we heard a loud bang on the patio door, it made us jump and look. At first I thought it was a football that the kids somehow managed to kick over the hedge that far into the garden. But unfortunately it was not a football, it was a pigeon what crashed into the patio door, a deadly crash indeed. I could never stand seeing animals get hurt and it made me sick to see the pigeon on the grass bed twitch for the last time and it was devastating to see its head sink into its body, and I knew it had breathe it's last. But I asked James to have a check on it if it's still alive perhaps we could nurse it better. Unfortunately, I was right and after we've finished our dinner (it had taken us quite a bit to finish our meal since seeing something like that is pretty shocking it took our appetites away), James said he's going to bury the pigeon and I went with him and plucked a purple flower from its lush bush in the garden, and buried it with the pigeon. I thought it was really sweet of James to do that, and not just chuck the carcass into the compost skip. He really is such a sensitive person and I adore him for having such high respect for all things living - in the case of the pigeon, well, was living.
James and I have agreed that we will have blinds or some sort of decorative curtains when we have our own place, to prevent this kind of incident. I don't want my house to be a death trap to birds. They really are lovely creatures, they sing for you, they even eat your stale bread!
It was really shocking, that. One minute the pigeon was flying so free, taking on the skies in all its glory and in a split second, it was all over. Coincidentally, the night before, I had a really scary dream. I was sat in the same chair as I was whilst eating Sunday dinner when the incident happened, and there were a group of people around me in the same table and a bloke who held a gun and pointed it at my head and fired it just as James entered the room. I actually felt it and when I dropped to the floor, I felt my head go all soft and then I woke up. Of course when I told James this, he said there is no connection to my dream and the pigeon's death, neither of us are superstitious, but I can't help thinking what if it was some sort of message being sent to me? Ridiculous, really.