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Big Emotions – BIG Love for ABM!

I’ve kinda had a soft spot for Liza Weil ever since she declared, ‘I want my ABM!‘ Seeing her this season as Aster’s therapist, Dr Glass, has only confirmed my belief that ‘Anyone But Me‘ has some serious talent involved in every part of it. I’ve never been a big believer in therapy, this coming from someone with a Psych degree, but Dr Glass is pretty damn cool in my books.

If the ABM love wasn’t enough she’s married to one of my current favourite TV doctors, Paul Adelstein – aka Coop in Private Practice, and he shares my addiction! I want my ABM all the time too. During the ABM hiatus I’m definitely going to have to search out what else Liza Weil’s been in. IMDB tells me her resume includes the ‘West Wing’ and, like ABM, I never need an excuse to watch that show.

I’m so glad she came back in the new ep and I’m really hoping she makes an appearance in S3. I’ve got a gut feeling that Aster’s going to need someone to talk her to her senses. As much as the season finale of S1 left me with the biggest grin I fear the writers won’t be so kind this time around. I would happily be wrong on this though if the ABM gods (Susan Miller/Tina Cesa Ward I’m talking to you) feel the same way.

Anyway, enough of me – have at it…Ep2. 9 – ‘Private Rooms and Public Spaces


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Crack Addict

I’ve been on the Crack for almost 2mths now. A reticent entrant into the Cult of Crackberry I am now a loyal and subservient follower. My life is controlled by that little red flashing light. I feel like those bugs in ‘A Bug’s Life’ that are drawn to the bug zapper, ‘I can’t help it. It’s just so beautiful…’ *BZZZZZT* Like a beacon on the darkest night it calls to me and wills me to check what urgent matter requires my attention now.

I fully knew what I was getting into. I’d witnessed each of my friends in turn become Crack Addicts. Their thumbs continually tapping away on the device that seldom left their hands and was always within reaching distance should the light beckon. Even those friends that weren’t particularly techy, and I have always been techy, were transformed by this world of *PING*s and apps. Those that haven’t been initiated into the Cult very much want to be.

Now I love my Sony X1. I have always loved Sony Ericsson phones and when I don’t get one in my upgrade I am always counting the days until I can. I will always advocate them over any other phone. Nokias are fine if you want a phone that’s easy to use, Motorolas are very pretty if you don’t mind going into menu upon menu to access the most basic of functions, Samsungs are fine – they’ve afforded my sister trips to South Africa and me a Wii in their promotions. I am brand loyal to Sony, however, I am now most definitely a Crack Addict.

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29¾. That’s exactly how old I am today. Three-quarters into the final year of my 20s. One of my bestest told me she thought we were too old to fractionalise our ages. I told her I prefer it. I joked that it helps negate the years that come before. I like being twenty-nine though, I’m sure many people enjoy being twenty-nine – again and again. I like it despite what comes next.  I’m quite happy to be turning the “Big 3-0”.

I think partly that’s because I didn’t think I’d get there. It’s not because I harboured hopes for an early demise, far from it. I just always thought that if I did get there, I wouldn’t last for too much longer. I didn’t mind getting old, I know that it’s a privilege denied to many. I simply couldn’t see myself getting past that age. I’m still not sure that I do, but I certainly hope so.

Of my years I have one regret. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred if you offered me a trip in a Deloreon I would turn you down. I cannot guarantee that my life would be as it is had I not made the choices I have, and I believe that my life is currently what it needs to be. Still there is that one moment, that one time in a hundred, where –  if I could, I would like to see if it could have turned out differently. One moment I’d consider risking today for.

I have been a great many things to many different people. Not all of them fun, but perhaps necessary. Today I am me again. It’s only recently that I’ve started to feel that. Yesterday I said the words that confirmed I’m back. When others know of my choice I know that they’ll question it but I could never do sustained happiness, it’s not who I am. Even when the scales are pushed in my favour, I can’t. I have learnt that I require balance. I begin to see too darkly without it. When there’s a part missing, you need to replace it. I’m better this way.

The years have been unexpected, in the best possible way. I don’t think I could have predicted a single moment, I know given the choice I probably wouldn’t have chosen them. Sometimes it’s better that those decisions are out of your hands. The final stretch, almost certain to be as much of an adventure as the rest of it has been. Though I believe tomorrow is promised to no one, I still find myself smiling at the possibility.

Twenty-nine years…and three quarters. Wow. I made it.

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Mess of A Dreamer

Their face everywhere. Now I choose to see. Too long that part of me denied, never gone. The shadow cast not them, but me. I realise that now. In the darkness where I stood and smiled at the light I know that this is what I have chosen.

That happiness, that joy, so many smiles. It could never be sustained. I was never built that way. Though surrounded, that’s not how I know how to live. Blinded. The brilliance too much for me.

With new words still lost to me and the old too hard to say I let myself be found. Unable to reconcile those parts of me alone but knowing I need both. To value what it is I have, to know the consequence should I let it go, I need to be reminded how many times I have lost.

I returned to where I knew I would be asked the questions for which I did not have the answers they wanted to hear. I heard the apology given without the meaning needed behind it. Unknown that the word that always fell so easily from their lips contained a promise to do better. A promise that could never be kept without the knowledge behind it.

Decision made. My life so very full. Left off-balance when the scales were tipped too far. I can no longer exist in extremes. The newly reclaimed piece needing to find its place without being forced. The picture incomplete without it. Slowly. Tentative placement. I need it to be whole.

When no one else was looking I knew I would go back. When no one else was looking I found myself finally hearing the words. When no one else was looking, I couldn’t be anyone but me.

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Back to Me(?)

The first week of a new year, a decade is over. To say that I’ve been feeling out of sorts since the new year is either apt or an under-statement, at least I hope it’s one of those. I know this feeling, I know how to feel this way. I know it because it’s how I used to feel – and I hope this isn’t that.

Today I stopped as I cleared away old newspapers. One article: ‘The Year of Living Joyously’. It was the ‘joy’ that caused me to pause. That small three-letter word that describes perfectly how I felt for the second half of last year. In those months the glass was more than half full, it overflowed. Life was mine and it was good. And even when it wasn’t, all it took was for me to remember, and it was easy again. I appear to have carelessly misplaced that so far this year and I wanted to feel it again, so I read.

‘Have you been put under a spell? Have you been tamed and domesticated? Or can you still walk on the wild side when you need to?…Long ago, for reasons that were appropriate at the time, you toned down a part of your personality that could be scarily fierce at times. You learned diplomacy, discretion and patience. Arguably, you learned it too well. You started to accept situations that ought to have been challenged and changed. You began to fear the consequences of controversy.’

Strip away the words to their bare bones and that’s how I feel. Like I have denied too long who I am. It’s not just recently. If I am honest I’ve always questioned whether I had changed. That shadow I thought was the mask, perhaps it isn’t. Maybe everything else was the illusion.

I’ve made the mistake before; thinking that if I closed that part of my life off that sometimes made the laughter scarce that it would have no effect. I was wrong. I saw it every time it surfaced. I still see it now, permeating through the cracks in the smiles even though I have chosen those most destructive parts of my past no longer have a place in my present.

Certain words still resonate too loudly in empty halls. Feelings evoked I choose to ignore no longer. Instead, like a fallen but not defeated soldier I take this time to sit and let the wounds heal. I rest my eyes for a moment knowing that I will rise eventually. When the pain subsides I shall return to my feet having known what it is to fall.

In the quiet time when I realise how far I have come, I must first remember where it is I started. Too easy to fall back. Temptation calling me to test how strong my resolve. That’s the only true test after all. Happiness is easy. When everything that is good in you is because of those you choose to surround yourself with, it’s easy. Who you are without them, that’s when you learn who it is you’ve become.

Time for me to decide who that is, and accept the decision.


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