So, work is horrendously busy and intense - but lovely. Real migration policy and project development work. It all ends next week but then I have to attend the big S.Caucus debacle meeting - it is all handled by my office partner S, but it still involved my nerves and constant tummy turmoil. Looking forward to it all in a slightly sick way. This is the low-down kiddies; last week was chockablock with going out. So bad that I just wanted to curl up in bed and watch SATC. So, decided this week would be “stay at home” week and now, WED, having stayed at home Mon, Tues and Wed - I'm going STIR CRAZY!! Wok me baby! Sorry, I badly pun at such times. No fun, but plenty of pun. ha ha.
I can't really complain, I went to Londres for the weekend on the Super Bro’s tab and it was really ABFAB! Saw lots of old friends and new cousins. Felt at one moment I was back in NYC - nothing had changed on meeting the lovely old roommie and his wife/my friend. Realised that old friends mean something - we have moments captured on mental film that no one else has access too. Like mum in the grocery store buying beers, like putting up our Xmas trees, like rooftop parties, keg stands, bad punch, sitting on the couch chit chatting on a Sunday morning, walking past the drug motel, calling the fire station, the old lady on the stoop, the other awful roommies, the one I got for life, and, and much much more. Had a bizarre back to school moment as well. Sigh - how many Fridas have there been since that point - back at Tenby Mansions and heading out to St. John's Wood or down to Leicester Square with Mr. PKG, standing outside my window or on my doorstep for one last kiss? Very old school, road trip back down memory land sort of thing. Lovely, lovely, lovely - and all done with the bro.
Realised the other day, I have very few total ‘secret’ secrets. You know, most of the stuff that enters into my life I share with one person at least -- mum, the boy, the bro, the girls, etc etc. Very little is kept only to myself. I'm not secretive by nature and keeping a secret, when I have one, is f*ing hard. While I wouldn't necessarily share it with just anyone, I usually tell people who share secrets with me that they should expect me to tell the boy. Had to promise to roommie #2 (the cool one) that I wouldn't tell the boy about our detailed sex talk as she would get embarrassed (though really, we didn't delve into what we do with our boyz to such a horrifying level). I've discussed worse:-) But, I realise that I never create my own secrets - that is until >>>>>>>>>>>
Baby, I feel like a teenager. This is the truth - I'm about one month or less off from being 31, but I don't feel like it. Yes, I've learned to say NO more easily and that I don't have to be loved by all, (or learning the above), and how to say ciao and walk away. But, deep down, I'm still 16 -- walking into the Trocadero and feeling energised by people and music. Fact is, I like a fun life - drinking, dancing, dressing up and dreaming (4 Ds). I like cool new lipsticks, seeing friends for dinner, a cute boy across the room, a lovely die-for dress or pair of shoes in the shop window, a fabulous movie or some amazing song coming out loud and clear at the gym or a car stereo. I like dreaming of my future - and possible other selves - something that becomes harder and harder the older you get. And for this reason, this deep down love of being young, having potential to reinvent myself and redraw my life, I love and respect Madonna. There you have it - the crux of this whole piece. Hung Up has me hung up and has (SECRETLY) inspired me to go to the gym. There it really is - the secret. Sigh, ok – there it is – spilled into cyber-space; Ms. Richie, reborn into her blue jeans and farah fawcett hair has me going back to the gym. Sigh. I'm off to bed now.
oooh and james blunt:-) Do love James!!
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