Vale Bonnie

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die... Eccles. 3.1

I had to say goodbye to my best friend yesterday. She'd been in my life for 11 years.  

Life was kind of shitty when we first met.  I was going through college, carrying out someone else's idea of my life.  I'm not too sure how my sister and I finally swung it - but the parentals had finally agreed to let us have a pet dog.

Mum and I rushed to the pet store this Friday afternoon.  I could even tell you what I was wearing, as if that mattered.  There were a couple of different kinds of puppies for sale. In one enclosure sat a white, fluffy, delicate little thing, and next to that there was a shy, fuzzy, brown bundle we deemed most likely to be loved by Dad.

She was so small, you could comfortably hold her in one hand - soft and lively, delicate in her own kind of way. I wish I could tell you about the ride home with our new puppy.  I wish I had been smart enough to soak those minutes in so that I could recall them in full-colour-high-definition now.  I suppose I was just too excited to be going home with our special little bundle.

We thought about names overnight, made lists, but nothing stuck. I remember 'Tess' was on the list (as I recall, "Mcleods Daughters" was popular with us girls at the time) along with many other possibilities.

Saturday morning came, and I had to go to my crappy part time job, a place where you weren't allowed to call the boss by his first name. He was a naughty boy stuck in a bearded mans body. 

I finished work, slipped off my wretched shoes and found she had a name: "Bonnie".

Bonnie was so small, she got lost in vastness of our backyard.  As a young pup, she took pleasure in bathing herself in her giant water bowl, and rubbing herself all over the green lawn.  As she grew, she loved to play - she got big enough to enjoy the toys we'd brought her, when really revved up, she would run in circles, huffing in excitement with her tail tucked under as if conforming herself to a more aerodynamic shape.

But, she had little frailty's too. She became nippy, and at times short tempered, especially after we had her spayed. We'd wondered if abuse was in her past.  She wasn't great with new people, tall people, or people with booming voices - she would crawl with her tail sideways, and urinate if they reached out to pat her. Poor Bonnie, she was a bit damaged, like me - and that somehow made her even more special.

She'd bark when the roller door opened, and when the doorbell rang . She'd chase nearby doves like a warrior when someone caught her by surprise, and took pleasure in keeping cats out of her territory. If she were inside when you got home from work, she'd be first at the door, greeting you with her shy little shuffle.  It wouldn't matter what had happened that day, she was a reason to crack a smile.

Like me, she loved her food, and I was always happy to share my peas with her.  She loved spaghetti, and roast chicken and had an uncanny ability to hear the peeling of a carrot, or the opening of the biscuit barrel.

Most nights I'd have a cup of tea, she'd wake and share some biscuit with me. It was our routine, our tradition.

Life is made up of increments of time, pieces of things put together to make a whole day. Bonnie was so ingrained in almost every part of my life, I'm utterly devastated by her absence now.  Now there are wide, gaping holes in the days - the silence is crushing, time has slowed to snails pace these past two days - I feel sick when I remember for certain she's gone.

I could go on and on about her, but I won't.  I know some people don't understand how animals can be grieved so fiercely. And to me, those people aren't such great 'people'.  My Bonnie - for all her faults and flying jumps was beautiful. She wasn't conventional, or easy to understand, but she was my friend and the best kind of 'person' I might ever know.  Up until yesterday I don't think I've ever felt so alone.  My 'almost Tess', my friend under the table, my hello at the door, I will miss you forever.  And forever feels like a very long time right now.



Rest in peace my little Biscuit.

A Year in Review

So, it's been while.  So long in fact, I had wondered if I would even remember how to do this.  Good news though, it would seem I haven't slipped into premature senility just yet.

So, a fair bit has happened since we last met. I finally got out of that horrid workplace. So, I'm now in a totally new job, which has brought along with it more than a few challenges.  Not sure that I've found my niche, but for the moment, as I find my feet, I am grateful to be in a workplace that values me.

My body and I continue to be at odds. Some days we stand eye-to-eye 'till one of us cracks, but then other days I'm waving the white flag from the floor.  So, it's still a bit of a juggling act, and lot of mind-fuckery.

It's almost a year since I joined the world of online dating, and... well... the thing is - nothing has happened. Which makes this little fun fact, a little disconcerting...

Every. Day? In The World vs. StrangeBird, the score  is 1 to nil. Or is that 3 000 000 to 1. That's a lot of fucking zero's. The Supremes said "you can't hurry love", but Jesu - must I wait until I'm a pensioner?

Other news that has adversely affected me:

Joe Manganiello got engaged dammit. And...

Joseph Gordon-Levitt got married!  I would've taken a hyphenated name for you Joseph?! 

And I found out these two pieces of news in the same week.  It's been rough.

Still, we gotta keep moving. Until next time, "take a card, take a seat"...

quietly devastated

I sent a very brief email to John today - not expecting much. I just wanted to say goodbye really. Deep down, I wanted him to answer, but I didn't know he would. He did, and I got the heartbreak I expected. He tried to be lovely about it, but he wanted to be honest. He said I am "a good friend" and that's how he "wants it to stay". I guess I knew this would be the response I'd get - but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some small attachment of hope that it would go the other way. Because he addressed all this via email - I had to read this in public, at work...and somehow keep myself together enough to continue functioning - or at least pretending. It was one of the hardest moments I can recall.

So, electronic heartbreak - its speed is deceptive - you forget that such a mighty blow can be delivered from such an unassuming act of clicking 'send'. Wow. It was so hard to read; but it was never going to be easy was it? I am torn, and saddened beyond imagination. When I think about it too much, a feeling of nausea washes over me - a heavy stone lodges itself in the pit of my stomach as I recall the dream sequences, that will forever more be confined to my imagination. Ouch. That's a lot of images to re-write.

As the day wore on, thoughts of his email cropped up less and less; until home time, when I knew I'd be free of distraction, free to feel it. Except I stifle it still. If I were alone, or in the company of someone who knew what I had done, I would been a mess. But there is no one to share this pain with. Besides, I created it, I should be the one to carry it to it's grave, on my own.

I don't want to give up - on life and love and possibility. I really, really thought he was 'it' and it's just really hard right now to think about finding someone real to fill that void. If I thought he was real, but he wasn't - how hard is it going to be to find the actual real thing?

I'm so scared my destiny is to become a weird cat lady. Do you suppose this is how cat ladies are made? With stories such as these? I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be second, third best - I want to be somebodys first. Where am I going to find them?

I've been warned a couple of times about the amorous nature of the Italian and Greek men - it's not something I would normally seek, and I have my doubts about my ability to be on the receiving end of such affections, however, at this moment I think I could really use the ego boost. Just a little one.

On the inside I am a little girl crying in a heap on the floor, and all I want is for somebody to collect me into their arms, wipe my tears, dust me off, set me on my feet and tell me someday this will be ok, and this feeling will go away.

I wish I had the ability to split myself in two, scoop my sadder half into my arms and tell her it's all going to be ok, eventually. That this will pass. Except I can't do this, and I don't know if I can see 'ok' right now. It all hurts so much.

We've all got stories haven't we, of the ones that got away? I guess it's whether we let the story define and shape us. Right now, the wave of the emotion is sweeping me away.

I look forward to a time, when going to bed, does not mean crying until my eyes burn - when I can hear his name and not flinch; when I can look upon this and say it's actually ok.

SB xx

will you still love me, tomorrow

It's an absolute shame, and here is why.

Such a sad day for what might have been.

SB xx

remember today

Another day, another ending.  Today, legendary Australian band silverchair announced they would be going into "indefinite hibernation". 

As a teen, I grew up listening to these guys - idolising them.  Their music became the soundtrack of my awkward teenage years. Posters of the boys lined my walls; I collected articles and pictures; I was in love with Daniel Johns.  Hell, who am I kidding? There's nothing past tense about that last statement - I still think I'd be the girl to make him happy.

A celebration of greatness.

Miss you boys.

SB xx