the old Coburg High School — I adore this building and wish every time I drive by that it will one day be restored into apartments in my price range

 
I found my special drink, and its name is Cookie Monster: vanilla vodka cream liqueur, creme de cacao, Baileys, milk, Oreo cookies and ice blended together, with chocolate sauce lining the bottom and edge of the glass. Yum.

I was in such a good mood this weekend that I started talking to the universe again while in my car. This time I was all, “Thank you, Universe!” And the universe was all, “Yo, just doing my job!” And I’m like, “Cool, later.”

Not sure specifically what I was thanking the universe for, but, like last time, the outburst was totally spontaneous and can’t be explained away.

But I am pretty thankful at the moment. Despite all the crap I’ve had to deal with, I’m an incredibly lucky person, and I feel so happy to just be alive. My life is so full of laughter and joy. Sure wish I could bottle this feeling because I’d make a fortune.

Without going into detail, I will tell you that this week I have turned something that could have been really, really awful into a very positive situation. So I am delighted about that.

Also said a sad goodbye to Mr S.T. last week, only to get a text message tonight that he is still in town — almost like a voice from the dead. Not sure if I will see him again, or how much longer he’ll be around. Strange how things work out like that.

 
Each time I think I should really learn to play the guitar, I hear a song that totally captures how I feel, in a much better way than I ever could.

Song of the Week has been “A Shot in the Arm” by Wilco, the best bit being when Jeff Tweedy sings “You’ve changed… Oh, you’ve changed”, with such passion.

Another brilliant line from the same: “What you once were / isn’t what you want to be / anymore”. And I love how the lyrics are juxtaposed with such happy, uplifting music.

 

another view (through the chain-link fence)

 
Melbourne now has 51 completely vegetarian restaurants (not including veg-friendly restaurants or those outside the metro area). I have been to 22 and Kristy 23. Our new goal is to visit the rest of them, and maybe review them somehow?

Six of them are in my tiny suburb alone. For the record, my hometown (population ~500,000) has zero. I’m waiting…

winter solstice bonfire at Collingwood Children’s Farm

 
I think I might have psychic powers.

I’ve always been an intuitive, perceptive person, but I’m extra-sensitive right now in a spooky kind of way. Spooky to me and spooky to the others I’ve correctly predicted things about. Well, “predicted” isn’t so much the right word as “felt”.

I’ve felt a few things pretty accurately lately (Mr Honey’s recent attempt to get back in touch being one of them), and Kristy and I have a $5 bet on my next prediction. We’ll see who’s right, eh?

It’s kind of like when I used to be able to predict the weather with my bad knees. Kind of a fun party trick, but really more of a curse than a blessing. But I suppose if it’s all part of being Super Honey, I’ll take it on. Knowledge is power.

 
Had a second date on Saturday morning with someone new entirely. He asked me out for breakfast, which I thought was sweet. Very nice, but no spark from my end — yet. I’m not ruling anything out, though. As Paul Kelly sang, “From little things big things grow…”

Mr S.T. has not left town — yet.

Neither has Mr Honey. I had my first phone conversation with him in nearly three months, and I’m totally OK. I am so comfortable with myself right now that the stuff he said didn’t faze me. I love being Super Honey.

The truth is that he hasn’t been a part of my life for quite some time now. I don’t need him, or anyone for that matter.

There have been a few people in my life who have acted in a not-so-nice fashion over the years. But I have an amazingly large heart and am willing to let anyone back in if I feel he/she understands where he/she went wrong and is truly sorry for what happened (Mr Past is one of them). Honesty and integrity are all I ask.

Say you screwed up. Say you’re sorry. Mean it. And do something to make it better. (I’m sure Sherry will back me up on this right now.)

We are all human. We all screw up. But we can also forgive. The elasticity of the human heart is brilliant. But where are the Lloyd Doblers of the world, those who aren’t afraid to take action and put themselves in a “dare-to-be-great situation”? I wonder if they exist. I seem to know of too many people who are sorry from afar and often silently, which does no one any good.

The ending to Garden State was so, so bogus. I’ll bet Zach Braff didn’t have the guts to right his wrong, so he wrote that ending to make himself feel better.

Make it good, people. Before it’s too late. Yeah, you might get a lecture or other backlash, but know that what you feel needs to be said. Or it isn’t worth anything.

—–

Alcohol I have tried recently but not fallen in love with:

 
Special Drink, I know you’re out there somewhere, but what and where are you? (If anyone reading this thinks they know, please tell me. I like sweet stuff.)

Greenvale Reservoir, today (I’m quite fond of the city skyline in the background)

 
I’ve fallen in love, with an album.

It was one of those listening-station episodes where I didn’t even get past song 3. I just bought it. And, Kristy as my witness, I was vigorously shaking my booty in the store with the headphones on. (Barb and Bethb, you would’ve done the same.)

Then I fell asleep on Saturday night while listening to my favourite track on repeat. Thank goodness my neighbours couldn’t hear it.

I so heart Dan Kelly.

—–

This weekend was crazy — a ton of stuff to deal with that I don’t really want to go into, but I’m glad I plodded through it. I’ve learned this year that creative projects are a brilliant way for me to channel my grief or any sort of uneasy feelings. As corny as this sounds, I felt like I put love back into the universe while working on this weekend’s projects. It’s all about the love. And I felt better when I woke up this morning, like I’d accomplished something.

Too bad that something wasn’t housework because my apartment looks like a bomb hit it. When I relayed to my mom that I was having an organisation-related bout of procrastination, she said, “I have two words to motivate you. Do you know what they are?” She then uttered the name of my creepiest uncle, and I shuddered in disgust. He is the poster boy for how I don’t want to live.

Thanks, Mom. You always know the right thing to say.

 

another crazy-cloud pic from today

 
You know how I’ve been having all those blasts from my past recently? Well I saw Katti, my unbalanced housemate from my student days, at the Vegie Bar on Friday night. I was shocked to see her, one of two people I haven’t seen since 1997 who I’d always wondered about. If I run into my crazy host mum or her kids, I’ll know something’s up and will start looking for the video cameras.

I wasn’t sure if it was her same boyfriend sitting across from her or not — 8 years is a long time, after all — but I’m pretty sure it was her, and she looked fantastic. Really, really good, and super confident, in a super-low-cut black dress with much longer hair. I wonder if she’s still evil. And I wonder if he’s still as sweet and saintly for putting up with her as ever.

I didn’t have the guts to say anything. My stomach was jumping just from seeing her, so I can’t imagine what I would say. I’m pretty sure she didn’t recognise me, but I got a jolt all the same.

I sent fellow ex-housemate Pats a text message about my Katti spotting, and she sent a one-word reply: “Fark!” So I know my memory isn’t rusty.

—–

My boss is returning this week, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Sure, it’s fun to be the boss sometimes, but I’ve been there, done that. I crave just being a lowly employee (albeit in middle management) again.

the miniature sushi train at Chadstone

 
Friday is a long working day for me. My highlight of the day is juice from Juice Bar, which comes with a haiku sticker attached. The poems are quite funny and sweet, and I’ve been collecting them for a few weeks now.

This past Friday, there was no haiku — the main reason I buy this brand of juice. Instead, there was a sticker of the usual size, announcing a competition to win a Vespa.

I. was. pissed. off.

Much in the same manner as when my newspaper doesn’t get delivered in the morning.

So I went to their website and fired one back at them:

Where is my haiku?
I don’t care about Vespas
Why oh why oh why?

After reading this, however (thanks, Jo-Anne), I suppose it’s not a haiku after all but a senryu. So technical.

I wonder if they will reply?

—–

front of the sushi train

 
Had dinner Friday night with Mr S.T., who is still in town for another week or so, at a place in Chadstone with a miniature sushi train. It’s not as fun as it sounds, unfortunately, but the company was good.

We’ve been hanging out under the ‘friends’ banner again. Yeah. For those of you who aren’t very good at math, allow me to work it out for you:

no physical contact + no haiku = cranky Honey

Yearrrrrrrrrrrgh.

I have boys coming out of my ears right now, but I’ll tell you about it later. It’s starting to get messy interesting.

—–

Went to DFO with Kylie on Saturday because I don’t seem to be gaining the old weight back, and most of my pants are too baggy. I got a cute pair of jeans that were just a bit too short for my liking. I let out the hem but didn’t like the faded white lines where the folds used to be, so I coloured them in with my navy blue twin-tip Sharpie. It matched so perfectly that it almost disappeared into the rest of the fabric — you can’t tell at all. Yay me.

I also got some nice work clothes and charcoal grey Chuck Taylors to replace my beloved 13-year-old pair that had to be thrown away. It was a productive trip, but I didn’t really need to make myself sicker than I already was/am. My cold turned into a throat infection last week, and I’ve been on antibiotics (but working through most of the week).

So today I stayed home and bought the biggest inspiration/cork board available at OfficeWorks and worked on that and my quilt. The quilt prompted a huge flood of emotions — some good, some bad. The worst was a super-sweet memory that popped up out of nowhere on Friday and consequently felt awful to think about.

It’s a process, right?