tense

Somewhere between 6 and 7 in the morning, amidst blind grabbing for my mobile phone and repeatedly silencing the snooze button, I tossed and turned amid erratic dreams of those who once were. I remembered the people who left me behind, or rather those I left behind and couldn't retrieve. It still hurts when I poke at the memory. The cavity between my ribs when I roused was a painful awakening because I thought I was over it. It only took an innocent conversation with some girlfriends about emotional baggage for the nostalgia to rudely interrupt my subconscious once again. 

I dreaded the lonely car ride to work this morning, as it would have given me too much time to over-analyse my dreams and drive me to insanity. I asked RD to accompany me and, because of his loving nature and observant trait, he must have sensed the urgency and desperation in my voice and agreed without questioning. I appreciated the gesture, knowing it would be an inconvenience for him since he had to take the train to the city from my office due to the terrible peak-hour traffic.

Our drive was lovely. We talked about our dreams, and he lightened my mood by recalling the nightmare he had about his battle with two giant spiders. I confided in him, and he gave me his philosophy on dealing with past issues. At one of the traffic lights, he leaned over and kissed me mid-sentence. I didn't expect the display of affection and melted when he pulled me in for a hug, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. His romantic stunt really made my day, and I can still feel the warmth of his hug. I love hugs. I can't think of anything more comforting than a timely, firm bear hug from someone who genuinely cares. Sometimes, when we're fighting and no words of affirmation are convincing enough, a hug can win the hardest argument. 

As RD weaved through the busy traffic, I gazed blankly out the window, feeling the sad residue from my dream and being choked by my thoughts of the past. I felt someone's warm hand pressed on mine, and when I turned to my right, I saw my handsome present and future smiling back at me.

photo album

While going through my photos archive for Caz's wedding slide show, I stumbled across this webcam photo of little Shirley! I also discovered some horrific photos from High School, someone should have told me to pluck my eyebrows, seriously.

the escen

August was all about getting my ducks in a row, drawing up plans for the months ahead. September and October are when those ducks (hopefully) start marching in formation. There have been some new developments that I haven't shared on my blog because, let's face it, sometimes sharing isn't really caring. I usually avoid turning my blog into a play-by-play report, but I need to timestamp a few events for future reference.

I moved to the Inner West temporarily to see if I could hack it away from home. Spoiler alert: I couldn't. After seven weeks, I was back home with my family (pets included), boyfriend, and friends. I realised I had plenty of freedom, privacy, and independence at home, and the only perk of living away was being closer to work. I rented a furnished resort apartment, but thanks to the chilly weather, I didn't enjoy the facilities. Not that it mattered much since I don't play tennis, swim like a rock, and break out in hives at the thought of exercise. The sauna, though, I genuinely missed out on. Kat helped me move out, and we took a grand tour of the resort, pretending we were on a luxury holiday.

In other news, I bought my first investment property. I expected some fanfare when the settlement happened, but all I got was a phone call from my solicitor saying, "Congratulations, the settlement was completed at 2:30pm." No flowers, no fanfare, just a 30-year mortgage and a sobering look at my financial statements.

The whole process wrapped up in less than a month, and I've learned that it's not what you know, but who you know. I was blessed with a team of professionals who charged me mates' rates and pulled a few all-nighters to make the transaction smooth. Good help is hard to buy, but with strong friendships and trust, you can earn it.

shirley

I used to babysit my niece, Shirley, during school holidays because her parents thought my folks would enjoy having a kid around. What they didn't consider was that the assigned babysitter was an 18-year-old who had just finished the HSC and was eager to enjoy her newfound freedom. Perhaps my parents were fully aware and used babysitting as a clever form of house arrest.

Desperate to quit my unpaid babysitting gig, I tried to make her miserable enough to want to leave. I gave her chores, hoping she'd hate staying with us and beg to go home. I even blocked her on MSN because her phonetic shorthand texts and fluorescent fonts were driving me nuts. Once, I came home to find she’d ransacked my precious sticker collection, sticking them heartlessly all over my desk. The final straw was when she dropped my pet rabbit down the stairs, breaking his spine, and he had to be put down. I got in trouble for locking her out of my room after she woke me up every morning by banging on the door. Thankfully, I had conditioned myself to sleep through it.

When Shirl started primary school, we actually became friends. She helped me get ready for dates by curling or braiding my hair, tying complicated laces, and giving my outfit a once-over. Her creativity made my bedroom cozy, and she was handy in the kitchen, cutting up watermelon on hot summer days. I tricked her into cleaning the house with false promises of shopping trips. When I renovated my bedroom, she was my little handyman, assembling furniture with ease and showcasing freakish strength in heavy lifting. Some may call it child labour; I prefer ‘personal development.’ She matured quickly thanks to my rigorous training. My niece is smart, almost as smart as me. I sometimes see a young me in her (minus the handy work, creativity, and strength).

It almost seemed like she was the babysitter. You see, a good child minder allows the kid plenty of freedom and encourages them to be independent. I just took this method to a whole new level. My babysitting career ended when Shirl started high school, and her visits dwindled and eventually stopped altogether. I took her off my block list and was disappointed by the absence of her eager messages. Whenever I invited her over, she was busy and preferred hanging out with friends. Ouch. My little girl was growing up.

Shirley is now 15 years old and taller than me. She visited last Friday night, and I asked her to sleep over. To my surprise, she agreed, and I knew this was my chance to win her back. I pulled out all the stops: I let her hug my hot water bottle, let her pick a DVD for us to watch, and took her shopping in Paddington. We had Japanese in the city, and I bought her whatever drinks and snacks she wanted. I was at her mercy. 

We reminisced about the past and laughed about how we used to fight and slam doors in each other’s faces. She asked about my current love life, and I was pleased to hear she still hated boys. I made a mental note to ask her again next year. She showed me her Myspace page, and I made fun of her unoriginal teeny-bopper pouty-lipped pose. I'm glad we're friends again. Last night, she sewed the missing buttons back onto my coat. It feels like old times.