While on my flight the other day, I happened upon the Fleetwood Mac song 'Dreams'. Every time I hear it, I gather a little more meaning from it. Today, it is my soundtrack.
Now here you go again
You say you want your freedom
Well who am I to keep you down?
It's only right that you should
Play the way you feel it
But listen carefully to the sound
Of your loneliness
Like a heartbeat .. drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost ...
And what you had ...
You know what you lost
Oh thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
They say women they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean you'll know
You'll know
Now here I go again I see the crystal vision
I keep my visions to myself
It's only me who wants to
Wrap around your dreams and ...
Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?
Dreams of loneliness
Like a heartbeat .. drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost ...
Who says what you had ...
Ooh and what you lost
Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
They say women they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean you'll know
Oh thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
They say women they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean you'll know
You'll know ...
You'll know ...
You will know
Ooo you'll know
I have returned from my break, and what did I learn? Only that you can't leave your problems behind for long. Silly me; I thought maybe I could run away, pack my thoughts and feelings into a suitcase, only to scatter them over the sea and away from me. It just doesn't work that way...
I was hoping to come back an improved version of myself - but all the little things have already caught up with me - and they bring me back down. I figure I'm going to have to put on that mask again, the one that tells people I am 'together', I am logical and focused; I am ok. All the while underneath, I feel like I am eroding like a sand dune - so slowly that it goes unnoticed, until one day someone happens to see that my pile of sand has shifted completely.
SB xx
Showing posts with label roadtripping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label roadtripping. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Greetings From Hotel Di Shithouse
My absence from the land of blog was not self-imposed, but instead work related - which meant I was city bound and PC-less. It was difficult losing access to that portion of 'me' and not being able to read the blogs of those that I follow and have come to adore.
It was a big week; one of learning that required tolerance, and involved nasty cab drivers, bad showers, reduced personal space, irrational bed-bug fears, minimal sleep and some spew for good measure.
My week was spent in the big city; home of the ipod society. It never ceased to amaze me, just how many people would walk in the streets and in the shops with their ipods firmly implanted in their ears. It surprises me that people in the city are so desperate to tune out of the 'right now' that they would choose to be permanently plugged into a soundtrack that overrides the sounds of everyday life. I. Don't. Get. It.
I went along with two other ladies from my work, and it proved challenging at times to say the least. Both ladies, are fine company in small doses - but a five day stint was tough for me to bear. I think perhaps I'm just the kind of gal that needs a little space, and less talking... much less wordiness. The hotel we were staying in (and I use the term 'staying' very loosely) was a disaster.
It was the kind of place where one might expect to contract some form of hepatitis if you were to sit down... and we won't even mention the kitchen utensils. There were the three of us, sharing one room, three beds, a very small TV, no windows, no escape. My favourite design element was the 'false' deadlock on the front door, but the winning item would have to be the bathroom. Gross at day, but oh, at night when the light went on - a whole other dimension. One of those thoughtful switches that combines the light and fan into one user friendly switch. Said fan, had the auditory presence of a small aeroplane - an aeroplane, moments from crashing in flames that is. And the shower head was a beast of misery - its performance could be likened to the feeling of being spat on by The BFG - in a generally random and unpleasant manner. Can't believe I survived it. Can't believe my room mates survived me surviving it.
The actual purpose of the trip was for training. The training itself went well, although made my head hurt at times. The facilitator was charming, interesting and motivational. She was the kind of person, who just by the way she conducted herself, you knew her life was a series of fantastic moments and stories all stitched together into a fine thread of existence.
But, there could only be one truly golden moment, and that had to be on my flight to the city. Sadly, I suffered a bout of travel sickness, right at the very end of the flight. I was a good passenger and I used the paper bag provided for me by the airline. I was exiting the plane, spew bag in hand - strangely saw no bins in the aisle as I completed my walk of shame. I came to the door that led down the steps to my freedom, and Fernando the flight attendant stood there to say goodbye. He wore the stock-standard Qantas smile, until I asked him politely what I might do with the bag, as I shook the paper shame in his general direction - quick as a flash, the smile was gone, replaced with a scowl as he told me to leave the softening, warm bag of spew on the shelf next to him. Really, I thought you want to leave 'that' to the influence of gravity? But, I did what he told me - whatever you say Fernando. I'm not going to argue with a man named Fernando, especially when he's in perfect position to push me down a flight of stairs.
And so, I leave you with a dedication. Enjoy...
It was a big week; one of learning that required tolerance, and involved nasty cab drivers, bad showers, reduced personal space, irrational bed-bug fears, minimal sleep and some spew for good measure.
My week was spent in the big city; home of the ipod society. It never ceased to amaze me, just how many people would walk in the streets and in the shops with their ipods firmly implanted in their ears. It surprises me that people in the city are so desperate to tune out of the 'right now' that they would choose to be permanently plugged into a soundtrack that overrides the sounds of everyday life. I. Don't. Get. It.
I went along with two other ladies from my work, and it proved challenging at times to say the least. Both ladies, are fine company in small doses - but a five day stint was tough for me to bear. I think perhaps I'm just the kind of gal that needs a little space, and less talking... much less wordiness. The hotel we were staying in (and I use the term 'staying' very loosely) was a disaster.
It was the kind of place where one might expect to contract some form of hepatitis if you were to sit down... and we won't even mention the kitchen utensils. There were the three of us, sharing one room, three beds, a very small TV, no windows, no escape. My favourite design element was the 'false' deadlock on the front door, but the winning item would have to be the bathroom. Gross at day, but oh, at night when the light went on - a whole other dimension. One of those thoughtful switches that combines the light and fan into one user friendly switch. Said fan, had the auditory presence of a small aeroplane - an aeroplane, moments from crashing in flames that is. And the shower head was a beast of misery - its performance could be likened to the feeling of being spat on by The BFG - in a generally random and unpleasant manner. Can't believe I survived it. Can't believe my room mates survived me surviving it.
The actual purpose of the trip was for training. The training itself went well, although made my head hurt at times. The facilitator was charming, interesting and motivational. She was the kind of person, who just by the way she conducted herself, you knew her life was a series of fantastic moments and stories all stitched together into a fine thread of existence.
But, there could only be one truly golden moment, and that had to be on my flight to the city. Sadly, I suffered a bout of travel sickness, right at the very end of the flight. I was a good passenger and I used the paper bag provided for me by the airline. I was exiting the plane, spew bag in hand - strangely saw no bins in the aisle as I completed my walk of shame. I came to the door that led down the steps to my freedom, and Fernando the flight attendant stood there to say goodbye. He wore the stock-standard Qantas smile, until I asked him politely what I might do with the bag, as I shook the paper shame in his general direction - quick as a flash, the smile was gone, replaced with a scowl as he told me to leave the softening, warm bag of spew on the shelf next to him. Really, I thought you want to leave 'that' to the influence of gravity? But, I did what he told me - whatever you say Fernando. I'm not going to argue with a man named Fernando, especially when he's in perfect position to push me down a flight of stairs.
And so, I leave you with a dedication. Enjoy...
SB xx
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The Memory Machine
I made it home. Home is where the heart becomes distracted. Even though my trip away was brief and less than exciting, it did deliver some moments where I was alone with my thoughts. I was alone with the traffic and the noise of a big city which should have proved to be a giant concrete diversion - but it actually served to bring my mind back to 'me'.
It's sad and pathetic to recount just how many times my mind turned to John. I fear that for as long as that boy is around, I will be under his spell. At best, all I can hope is that it subsides once he is gone from my existence. Whenever that may be.
I also found myself thinking a lot of my friend who is leaving work, and town next week. It is to be her farewell lunch on Monday. I thought about what I might say if I have the opportunity to speak at her farewell - it is not the norm for someone like me to partake in farewell speech-giving and I am not the type to be inclined to volunteer - but there is something so special about my friend J, that makes me want to risk public humiliation and discomfort just to remind people how awesome she is. I have some things in mind, what I'd like to say - that is, if I am able to cease sobbing into my chicken parmigiana for more than five minutes to do so.
The break from domestic duties was also what the doctor ordered - 48 hours where I could put myself mostly first was refreshing. I was able to centre myself, remind myself what was important and try to think of some strategies to deal with the coming weeks. I'm back home now, to familiar faces and settings, a weekend at my feet; still strange, a little stronger and more ready for what comes next... I think.
SB xx
It's sad and pathetic to recount just how many times my mind turned to John. I fear that for as long as that boy is around, I will be under his spell. At best, all I can hope is that it subsides once he is gone from my existence. Whenever that may be.
I also found myself thinking a lot of my friend who is leaving work, and town next week. It is to be her farewell lunch on Monday. I thought about what I might say if I have the opportunity to speak at her farewell - it is not the norm for someone like me to partake in farewell speech-giving and I am not the type to be inclined to volunteer - but there is something so special about my friend J, that makes me want to risk public humiliation and discomfort just to remind people how awesome she is. I have some things in mind, what I'd like to say - that is, if I am able to cease sobbing into my chicken parmigiana for more than five minutes to do so.
The break from domestic duties was also what the doctor ordered - 48 hours where I could put myself mostly first was refreshing. I was able to centre myself, remind myself what was important and try to think of some strategies to deal with the coming weeks. I'm back home now, to familiar faces and settings, a weekend at my feet; still strange, a little stronger and more ready for what comes next... I think.
SB xx
Labels:
john boy crush,
roadtripping,
where's your head at?
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
there's no place like home
I escaped my life for three days. Ran away from StrangeBird antics and dramas, and went to the seaside with my family.
It was nice. It's been a really long time since we've had a proper family holiday. Mostly, I managed to forget about work - except for a couple of moments where my mind wandered to John, and wondered...
But now, slammed back into reality - I feel as if the weight of work tomorrow is bearing down on my tired, sunburned shoulders - and I am incapacitated by it's mere threat.
As the sea reminds me - you can't fight the flow of things.
SB xx
It was nice. It's been a really long time since we've had a proper family holiday. Mostly, I managed to forget about work - except for a couple of moments where my mind wandered to John, and wondered...
But now, slammed back into reality - I feel as if the weight of work tomorrow is bearing down on my tired, sunburned shoulders - and I am incapacitated by it's mere threat.
As the sea reminds me - you can't fight the flow of things.
SB xx
Labels:
john boy crush,
roadtripping,
where's your head at?
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Country Bumpkin
I was away from home for around 48 hours, I took a quick trip to the city. Nothing remarkable happened, but I did have a few discoveries and thoughts, which I thought I'd share.
I think I'd die without music...
Driving along with my ipod plugged in and 1665 songs at my disposal, I realise how much joy I get from music. It could be just another one of my compulsions, like eating food and spending money - but I think I just love discovering new music - listening to peoples voices, and the stories they tell. And it amazes me, that so many people the world over can express the same things in such different ways. Love, hate, regret, joy, pain, sex, attraction... and it makes me wonder, will people ever run out of things to sing about?
Numberplate Madness...
So, I've previously documented my severe dislike of private number plates, but I did see an amusing one while I was away. On a hot little sports car was the numberplate SnotRod. What can I say, it gave me a giggle (and at least it was spelt right)... but I could just be biased, seeing as it's got 'snot' in it.
A most awesome last name...
McCrackin! I friggen love that name. Just imagine!? Go on, say your name out loud right now, and sub in McCRACKin for your last name. You'll be uplifted. Just remember, emphasis on the CRACK!
McCRACKin - StrangeBird McCRACKin... oh the possibilities.
You've got to expect a certain level of standard at a hotel where the roof is decorated with a spit-ball texture...
I think that sentence says it all. No elaboration required.
The secret to weight loss...
All you have to do, is eat as if there is someone watching you, always. Suddenly you won't be scoffing your food down in a hurry, because you don't want to look like a 'pig' in public. Trust me, it works. You may come off as a paranoid schizophrenic, but hey... at least you'll be a thin one!
SB xx
I think I'd die without music...
Driving along with my ipod plugged in and 1665 songs at my disposal, I realise how much joy I get from music. It could be just another one of my compulsions, like eating food and spending money - but I think I just love discovering new music - listening to peoples voices, and the stories they tell. And it amazes me, that so many people the world over can express the same things in such different ways. Love, hate, regret, joy, pain, sex, attraction... and it makes me wonder, will people ever run out of things to sing about?
Numberplate Madness...
So, I've previously documented my severe dislike of private number plates, but I did see an amusing one while I was away. On a hot little sports car was the numberplate SnotRod. What can I say, it gave me a giggle (and at least it was spelt right)... but I could just be biased, seeing as it's got 'snot' in it.
A most awesome last name...
McCrackin! I friggen love that name. Just imagine!? Go on, say your name out loud right now, and sub in McCRACKin for your last name. You'll be uplifted. Just remember, emphasis on the CRACK!
McCRACKin - StrangeBird McCRACKin... oh the possibilities.
You've got to expect a certain level of standard at a hotel where the roof is decorated with a spit-ball texture...
I think that sentence says it all. No elaboration required.
The secret to weight loss...
All you have to do, is eat as if there is someone watching you, always. Suddenly you won't be scoffing your food down in a hurry, because you don't want to look like a 'pig' in public. Trust me, it works. You may come off as a paranoid schizophrenic, but hey... at least you'll be a thin one!
SB xx
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Home bound
I arrived home yesterday. I didn't really want to stop driving. It wasn't the driving itself that I enjoyed, but the time with myself, by myself, listening to my music, singing to my music, feeling for one of the few times in my life that I was truly free.
My car-karaoke, golden moment belonged to U2's 'Love Rescue Me'. What an amazing song.
Love rescue me
Come forth and speak to me
Raise me up and don't let me fall
No man is my enemy
My own hands imprison me
Love rescue me
Many strangers have I met
On the road to my regret
May lost who seek to find themselves in me
They ask me to reveal
The very thoughts they would conceal
Love rescue me...
In the cold mirror of a glass
I see my reflection pass
I see the dark shades of what I used to be
I see the purple of her eyes
The scarlet of my lies
Love rescue me
I'm really not looking forward to work tomorrow. I know it makes it a short week - but I just don't think I'm ready to go back to the fight again. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach already making an appearance. Somebody, rescue me.
SB xx
My car-karaoke, golden moment belonged to U2's 'Love Rescue Me'. What an amazing song.
Love rescue me
Come forth and speak to me
Raise me up and don't let me fall
No man is my enemy
My own hands imprison me
Love rescue me
Many strangers have I met
On the road to my regret
May lost who seek to find themselves in me
They ask me to reveal
The very thoughts they would conceal
Love rescue me...
In the cold mirror of a glass
I see my reflection pass
I see the dark shades of what I used to be
I see the purple of her eyes
The scarlet of my lies
Love rescue me
I'm really not looking forward to work tomorrow. I know it makes it a short week - but I just don't think I'm ready to go back to the fight again. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach already making an appearance. Somebody, rescue me.
SB xx
Monday, July 12, 2010
At the edge of the world
I took a drive along the scenic coast road - and it's lovely. I can't say much for the Esperance people, but they do their beaches very well.
It felt empowering - just me and the undulating road, travelling along the edge of this great state... the edge of my world.
I like watching the ocean. It makes me feel insignificant, but in the good way. I am reminded that I am a small part of the universe, and that there are much more powerful forces at work, shaping the world, my world.
If I've been to the edge of the world, I've also been into the heart of it. The town jetty leads out into the ocean. The further you go, the darker and colder it gets.
I have decided that the jetty is a metaphor for life. I did have something completely awesome to back that up - but it seems to have escaped me at this moment. Trust me, it was gold.
SB xx
It felt empowering - just me and the undulating road, travelling along the edge of this great state... the edge of my world.
I like watching the ocean. It makes me feel insignificant, but in the good way. I am reminded that I am a small part of the universe, and that there are much more powerful forces at work, shaping the world, my world.
If I've been to the edge of the world, I've also been into the heart of it. The town jetty leads out into the ocean. The further you go, the darker and colder it gets.
I have decided that the jetty is a metaphor for life. I did have something completely awesome to back that up - but it seems to have escaped me at this moment. Trust me, it was gold.
SB xx
Vibrating rooms and other tales from the road...
So, I'm on my seaside break 400-odd kilometres away from home, and yes, they are actually odd.
I'm in the sleepy, lead affected town of Esperance - home of Sammy the Seal and crazy-expensive 'boutique' shops.
After I arrived yesterday, I went on a bit of a stroll to stretch the legs. As I strolled I might've been forgiven for thinking I had sprouted a third leg and turned an unsightly shade of green, as for the duration of my walk, I got looks from everyone; every car, every adult and adolescent - not excluding the canine variety. I'm not sure why everywhere I go in this town, it inspires such passionate spying for the town folk - but, I gotta say, Esperance, I'm not loving it. It's giving me a complex.
Oh yeah, perhaps it could have something to do with my flaming red hair that I had dyed two days ago. Damn it. Damn hairdressers and their winter colours! I'm not sure this colour is going to give me the results I was hoping for. Eeek!
As I was driving down, I came across "Truslove Road" and I wanted to go down there - just to see what was at the end. Alas, I did not. I figured truelove without the 'e', can't be all that true?!
Oh, did I mention my fucking hotel room is vibrating! It wasn't vibrating yesterday when I arrived, but today some little men in big machines are working in the giant sandpit that is my neighbour, and it is actually making the appliances (and my spine) rattle. I'm not sure these sounds and sensations are conducive to relaxation.
I've only thought about work a couple of times and only long enough to be glad I'm not there right now. I hate that it has become another portion of my life that I want to close off from.
SB xx
I'm in the sleepy, lead affected town of Esperance - home of Sammy the Seal and crazy-expensive 'boutique' shops.
After I arrived yesterday, I went on a bit of a stroll to stretch the legs. As I strolled I might've been forgiven for thinking I had sprouted a third leg and turned an unsightly shade of green, as for the duration of my walk, I got looks from everyone; every car, every adult and adolescent - not excluding the canine variety. I'm not sure why everywhere I go in this town, it inspires such passionate spying for the town folk - but, I gotta say, Esperance, I'm not loving it. It's giving me a complex.
Oh yeah, perhaps it could have something to do with my flaming red hair that I had dyed two days ago. Damn it. Damn hairdressers and their winter colours! I'm not sure this colour is going to give me the results I was hoping for. Eeek!
As I was driving down, I came across "Truslove Road" and I wanted to go down there - just to see what was at the end. Alas, I did not. I figured truelove without the 'e', can't be all that true?!
Oh, did I mention my fucking hotel room is vibrating! It wasn't vibrating yesterday when I arrived, but today some little men in big machines are working in the giant sandpit that is my neighbour, and it is actually making the appliances (and my spine) rattle. I'm not sure these sounds and sensations are conducive to relaxation.
I've only thought about work a couple of times and only long enough to be glad I'm not there right now. I hate that it has become another portion of my life that I want to close off from.
SB xx
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