In which I just did some exercise!

Today I traversed around Point B's major park, employing an exercise technique suggested to me by a friend: run 100 steps, walk 100 steps. Yikes. I made it half way using this method, before an old injury started to seize up. Still, quite impressed at half way, and I hope I'll be able to keep it up enough to do better in time.

While walking I had plenty to look at, including two black swans and their bebbes (odd time of year, surely, for baby swans), various dogs and at one point a huge gaggle of geese, advancing from the lake to lay waste to the rest of us. Why are geese so much scarier than ducks? Is it because I'm convinced they have teeth, and it's only because no one's managed to get near enough that no one has reported this? Who knows.

Look at them, being all cute and cuddly, until...

AAAACK! Now you tell me those aren't teeth!

The topic of recreational hunting was brought up in conversation recently, and I must confess I'm surprised that a) it exists at all in this country, which after all has a no-guns policy, and b) that anyone - especially in this country, which has none of the history or regrettable need of Africa - should want to do it. Seriously. Ricky Gervais once said that it's the mentality of people who hunt for pleasure that disturbs him, and I'd have to agree (although I also object to the killing of an animal for sport. I eat meat, unapologetically, and so I have been told those two statements don't reconcile with each other...it's not an argument I can address simply, so let's just stick to the "mentality" thing). How can it really offer a rush, and should it? Should we indulge in taking pleasure from another thing's death (this is how I feel about a lot of computer games, but that's another kettle of fish, really)? But this is probably a debate that could go on for infinite web space, and I find it hard to do without sounding judgemental and high-horse...ish. Suffice it to say I'm confused by it all. But then I'm confused by the popularity of the Twilight series, too. :)

Back in the park, today, while I was in the middle of 100 steps of walking, I was passed by a group of cyclists -- there always seems to be a pack (what's the collective noun? Google offers a few peoples' suggestions, including "pedali) of cyclists whizzing round -- and in the brief snatch of conversation I heard "...she ended up marrying his best man, from their wedding!" Hee. Not only deliciously tantalising but hilarious to hear from a bunch of cycle-mad men (I would've said "butch" but it didn't feel right when applied to cyclists). I love imagining the context of this conversation.

Whoever says boys don't gossip as much as girls has no idea.

In which I debate the merits of chocolate cake. And travel. And wayward green pigs.

So a friend has given me a recipe for chocolate-cake-in-a-mug-that-takes-five-minutes. It is, as may well be guessed, disastrous as regards the whole "not gaining weight" thing. But it's the ultimate in comfort food, chocolate. If only it didn't come with the evil, evil calories... And quite unexpectedly, even after my cake-induced moaning and stomach-rubbing the other night, I did the inevitable and made another one last night. Oh yes. I am THAT stupid.

Nice though. Chocolatey.

Moving on. Another friend of mine is in Africa at the moment, and my parents just left for the UK, while my flatmate is five weeks away from jetting to the USA. It's all making me pine for travel, and especially to the first two destinations (I could take or leave America, although DC was pretty great...and Disneyland...). I miss the heat of Africa (although sometimes I could've done without it) and the sunrises and sunsets. The quiet majesty of the mountains and the early morning walks through the jungle up in Hodespruitt. The yawning roars of the lions and the eerie whoops of hyenas. Playing with the honey badgers, and tracking leopards in the camp. I miss the deep bright green of England, and the grey-mossy brown and green of Scotland. I miss the smell of the air, and the sense of history...and the bustle of London, and even the tiny soot-blackened mice that you find running around on the tracks of the underground. It's the things you wouldn't expect to miss, but because they were part of the whole you end up feeling quite sentimental about it all.

Sigh.

Better be careful, or I'll need another chocolate cake!

(Don't do it! cries my poor stomach, while my tastebuds jump up and down in a collective mexican wave, shouting about how the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few)

Yesterday I caught the middle of Disney's Alice in Wonderland cartoon. My word, but Mr Carroll had a special kind of imagination. Excellent use of onomatopoeia. I love words like "brillig" and wabe". Mome raths. They sounded like such sleepy little creatures. Although there's certainly a big difference in what people expect from them. Observe:

versus:

Hmmmm. The original text has Humpty Dumpty describing "raths" as "a sort of green pig", while "mome" is suspected to indicate being lost. One only guesses at how this reached the above depiction at Disney.

Ah well. Time for food!

In which I rescind my criticism of Northanger Abbey

Oh god. Oh god. I just ate more chocolate cake than I should have. Why?? Why didn't I stop?

Mistaaaaaaaaake!

Yesterday I finished reading Northanger Abbey, by Jane Austen, for the first time since university. I wasn't overly fond of it back then, and may have said some rude things about it, but on a second look, I really enjoyed the wryness of her phrasing. It's completely different than her other books, and though it reminds me of a first novel, it's a REALLY GOOD first novel. Poor Catherine's complete naivete and absolute honesty keeps her going through events as the only one who doesn't know what's really going on. Bless her. But perhaps my enjoyment was enhanced by the adaptation I saw a couple of months ago (BBC, starring Felicity Jones: go see it), because they really took the gothic sensibilities to town and had fun with it. Also the character of Isabella Thorpe really reminds me of someone I once knew...

But enough about that.

I've gotten back into knitting, after being taught a while ago by a lovely and talented knitter, and thought I'd put my idle hours to use by make some booties for a cousin of mine who is expecting. If I say so myself, they turned out pretty well, and I'm fairly happy with the job. Using slightly bigger needles will hopefully prevent these booties from being too small as soon as the kid is two minutes old. We'll see.

Today I was on my way home, consoling myself after a recent job interview (this just in: I AM bad at interviews) with a thrifty amount of groceries (these days comfort food is found in apple juice and pasta) when I saw a little black puppy (why is all my news about dogs? Am I becoming a "dog person" in the same way that people become "cat people"?) being slowly chased after by a small child. Small Child's mother said they were trying to catch it so they could see the phone number on the dog tag. Having also just bought some ham at the grocery store I lured the unsuspecting dog close enough to take gentle hold of its collar and call its owner. Having thus restored the poor little bugger to its own yard I felt pretty good about myself.

Obviously, it doesn't take much.

I've been craving junk food recently, which is a very bad sign, since I think my willpower has been eroded slightly in the last few months. It's neck and neck as to whether I gain back the 26 kilos I lost since I last allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted. Oh god. The vicious cycle. If I didn't hate throwing up so much I'd be in danger of becoming bulemic. (Not really. Don't do it, kids!) It's enough to make you hyperventilate. Why isn't lettuce as good at calming an anxiety attack as chocolate? Seems like a massive design flaw, if you ask me.

Lettuce. It's just not the same.

In which communism and chocolate share a blog

In a much better frame of mind today, despite not having yet been contacted by the last people I interviewed with. Huzzah! Inexplicable optimism!

This weekend past I got out and about a bit. Saw a movie (Inkheart: verdict: no. Why is it that production studios can take a great concept and through very little effort at creating a film version of that concept, completely fail to create anything worth watching? A lazy script, poor editing/directing, and failure to allow the audience to connect with any characters, to the point where I didn't know the names of two of them until about halfway through. I'm just saying.), wandered the shops, and badgered pet store employees again with requests to cuddle the little tiny jack russell puppy with the pink stripe on his back (we decided it was done to tell him apart in the litter), and had a chocolate/coffee/icy drink thing. Then visited some markets, an art gallery (how cultured!) and wandered through the park where a lot of people in red shirts were listening to some guy spouting what I took to be a random pile of shit, until I realised he was calling everyone "comrade" and there were people carrying signs and...

Well. Who knew that was an idea people were still bandying around here?

Anyway. Today I tried to stomp out some frustration by circling the park a few times. It did not work, but it gave me enough entitlement points to feel I'd earned the right to have dinner (after lunch I felt really full and, like all reformists, swore never to eat again). Then I got angry at myself for buying into the idea that food is bad for you. It's difficult, when surrounded by people who are, shall we say, very keen about the whole exercise/health/body shape ideal, to keep yourself from sighing in despair at your own reflection. I get quite angry, really, when people take it upon themselves to not only take on the philosophy, but to ensure that they point out to all others they come across that what they're considering eating is "bad for you". As someone who has had to lose quite a bit of weight at one point due to health reasons, and therefore someone who recognises the need to keep a healthy diet, I resent it when people who haven't even been through that kind of thing feel the need to judge. Why are people so intent on stepping into other peoples' business - even their eating habits? If asked, most people would probably disagree with the whole "size zero" culture, and yet they still buy it. And then they expect me to buy it as well.

Well to hell with that. I'm getting some chocolate.

In which I'm in a crappy mood.

Melancholy alert!

Heh. It occurs to me that the above exclamation mark is out of place, given the sentence itself.

Anyway. Wah. I've spent today noodling around on my computer, doing bits and pieces of work and wondering when or if I'll ever get paid for anything again, and why it should all hinge around getting paid, anyway, and why we can't all just be born rich and then feeling bad for assuming no one has it worse than I do. It's a complicated mood. Certainly my prospects of ever doing something I really love are looking bleak, since the world in general doesn't seem all that susceptible to my charms, and today I don't have the energy to buck up my spirits. Today, I am skill-less, direction-less, pointless. Today I am sad.

Had to laugh a minute or so ago when I checked the usual length of time it takes to acquire citizenship from a particular country. The website said 6 months. Try 3.5 years, dipsh*t! Oh yeah, today I'm also depressed about nothing happening re my citizenship application. Pooh!

I'm aware, on some level, that if I wanted to have specific skills I could have trained in them, but at the time a decision had to be made I didn't know anything about what I wanted to -- or could -- do. Nothing I wanted seemed viable, and nothing viable seemed appealing. Sometimes I feel as if I've failed the great exam of Life. Sorry, O, time to sit in the corner with the rest of the D students. Here's a free pen.

Sigh. There's got to be some sort of cathartic therapy to be had in writing all this out, or maybe it'll just depress some other unsuspecting people (sorry about that). It's all just self-pity, I suppose. Again, some part of me knows that there must be plenty of people who have felt like this at some point, and I just have to keep on keeping on, etc. But today I don't want to hear it. I just want to curl up in the foetal position, moan softly and daydream.

Ho hum.

In which all is warm and cosy in the apartment.

Tonight I sit in my room while the sky outside purples and the cool air rushes in and blows my picture frames precariously about on the walls. I probably should go and check that one by the curtains, but there's a perverse pleasure to be had in waiting to see how long it'll last.

It all reminds me of the faraway Point C (where I ultimately wish to live), and I'm going to have to resist the urge to hole up in here all evening. I've been grocery shopping, and I'm enjoying the feeling you get in your feet after you've taken your shoes off following an hour or so of walking. Mmm.

The year is wearing on, and I'm determined to stay positive, re my prospects of finding a job/satisfaction in the city of Point B. Nevertheless, the travel bug has infiltrated my defences and keeps buzzing on about far off places and adventures to be had. If only someone would pay me to travel about and enjoy myself. Seems like a breakdown in priorities, if you ask me.

This last weekend I engaged in an ill-advised pasttime: gambling. Only ill-advised if you're like me, and have absolutely no luck of any kind with respect to these things. Pleasing enough to get all dressed up and sit under an umbrella, bobbing up every now and then to hang by the railings to watch the horses thunder past, though. The general toffery doesn't extend to the manners of the punters, though. No chivalry to be seen amongst the men, and the women, though faring slightly better, tended to be much more concerned with how they looked than with paying attention to what was around them (including people trying to navigate past with a drink). Still, it's always amusing to hear a bunch of people in suits and dresses start yelling "GO ZAPPERS!" at the top of their lungs.

Mostly, I liked looking at the horses - really fine creatures, and I kept looking longingly after the grey Racecourse horses as they cantered after the winners. I'm going to have to visit the nearby park and its horses soon.

Ack! It's raining! Batten down the hatches!

In which puddles and dogs are fun, but moving is not.

If there is one thing to be said about my current residence at Point B, it is the view of the city skyline, and in particular, the sky itself. Tonight, for instance, there is a spectacular lightning display flashing across the eastern sky, and it's only a recent article on multiple lightning strike victims that keeps us from opening the balcony door to the elements. One section of the sky is actually a luminous green, which isn't something I've seen before. The torrential quality of the rain is something to delight in, too, although 24 hours ago was a different story.

I'd just done a round of grocery shopping, possibly too much, although I still managed to forget the potatoes, and when I stepped on the bus it began. Rain. Lots of it. And when I stepped off the bus there was even more of it. Gushing all over the road and making the usually short walk home seem an eternity. There were two options, but waiting it out seemed like a futile one. And so instead I braved the wet and walked home. In thirty seconds I was soaked to the skin. And yet after a while there was something nice in not worrying about getting any wetter.

Puddles are fun.

All other news is somewhat limited to me taking a walk in the park, and today hijacking two scottish terriers (one white, one black) under the pretence of checking my foot for blisters (in something of an irony there was a massive one on my toe). Adorable things, although I was belatedly told that the black one had fleas. Sure, I probably shouldn't have gone and started cuddling strange dogs, but what is it with me and this kind of eventuality? (See previous blogs on the subject of ringworm in cats) Also am continuing to pass by a couple walking a teeny tiny black poodle which honestly looks as though it's the bounciest, fluffiest tiniest thing ever to walk on four legs. Its owners don't tend to let it out of their sight, though, so I'll have to stage another blister-check at some point. Nevertheless, dogs, like puddles, are fun.

You know what else is fun? Not moving, that's what! And after this weekend I finally have my stuff moved in, and after a brief setback involving hanging pictures, a heavy frame, and a crash in the middle of the night over my bed, things are well here in point B.

Now all I need is employment. Hmm.