I died. Well, in the metaphorical "I can't think of a better excuse for not having written anything for months" sort of way. And the thing is, I wrote the following in a draft almost 2 months ago!
I can't believe it has been three months since I have wrote a new entry. I am a BAD blogger... and not as in bad-ass but as in, "I suck at this"
But as I sit here in my apartment, on one of the last nights in my flat alone, I can't help but think about what lies ahead of me on the 7th of April. Moving in with my culture shock. As the rain pelts down (as it has been doing for 3 months now) and the sky threatens to suffocate me with its gray claustrophobic blanket, I can't help but completely freak out that i am on this grim island.
So I'm living in sin. Yup. And I'm even receiving emails from my mom that say things like, "When we were first MARRIED..."
And the parents who raised me a good moraly sound girl (luckily they weren't around for my Manhattan experience) are now the parents of a girl who lives with her, "partner" Sorry Mom and Dad.
But there isn't much choice in the matter. I blame it on cultural sensitivity. Which is often a feature in my relationship since I had to get fake-married in Tonga in the name of cultural sensitivity and now, in order to fit in over here in the land of people with no family values, I am not getting married. Although, my "partner" is happily waiting for the government to stamp us with a civil marriage due to the fact we have had the same address for a number of months. That way he can say, " hey, we're Married! Glad that's done with" and head down to the pub for a pint.
However, I'm enjoying my new house regardless of the weight of my left hand. Which has decided it enjoys having an uncluttered space to use fully for things like... hm what do you use your left hand for? (sorry lefties)
As of late I have compared to a "huge bird that goes around collecting random things to bring home" I'm not sure if this has to do with my taste or the fact that I am building a home with enthusiasm, but either way- I'm nesting. And it feels like I have developed a psychological illness.
I have suddenly taken an interest in flowers. Which is really too bad for the flowers. I swear I can hear them crying as I choose them to take home and slowly kill. So, I bought the compost and the pots, the hanging baskets and plant food. I even own a watering can. I potted and sowed. Watered and fed... then they curled up and turned brown or stubbornly stayed in the soil. And I cried. But then they started to sprout and a few new flowers emerged! And I beamed. Then they cowered under the cold sky and closed up... and the tears ran again. Oh, the emotional rollercoaster!
Well, I have to go. A student needs my help. Those pesky kids...
Till later... promise... sort of...
