I...fail at blogging, really. LiveJournal...well, I almost want to start a new one with a name less full of reminders of people from middle school who turned out to be, well, posers, (to put it nicely.) Huh. Maybe I'll set up a new LiveJournal. I'll post the new name here, if I do. This needs some thinking.
So yesterday I get a slip telling me to come to the South City Delivery Office today. So I get a shoddily drawn map and directions from Dave ("It's a small roundabout. Like...you might even drive OVER it. I mean, it's REALLY small!") and set out with my friend Angela (aka AmericanGirl. She lives down the street in another L'Arche house. Anyway.)
I nearly turn left into a fence.
It IS a very small roundabout! Actually, it's a circle painted on the ground and I was the only one who drove around it properly. Everyone else was like "...whatev, four way stop."
I feared I was inadvertently on an entrance ramp for the highway, which is very hard to get off of until you hit Douglas or Rochestown or whatever and then I'd be in Douglas anyway, which is useless. But then there was a teeny sign saying Post Office so I followed that to the big-ass distribution facility I've seen sometimes FROM the highway, so, yeah.
I wait in line, nearly grab another person's package by mistake, but then they call my name and I get a box with my address but no clue who it's from, really...except a sticker that screams AUCKLAND from amidst the postal symbols and codes.
So after an amusing scene wherein I recounted the section on mail-bombs I just read in The Gift of Fear (which I'm working my way through,) and in response to which Angela shakes the packet and holds it up to her ear. (It's SCIENCE! "*shuff-a-shuff-a* Well, it didn't explode. *listens* And it's not ticking...")
And then I was confused as all get-out because the sticker on the package said AUCKLAND and at first I was wtf-ing and bzzork-ing all over my brain trying to think if maybe it came from one of you people reading in Australia and somehow it got routed through NZ, but, whatever. Curiosity finally killed the Canadian and I opened it and lo! Kris sent me a book for Christmas and a really heartwarming note. :)
I'm thrilled enough to let the mystery of New Zealand rest. (Maybe the packet went with the mail to the East rather than going West across America and the Atlantic? It's hard to think which way would be faster...though I think east-west makes more sense, somehow...)
...*cough* Let it REST. Leave it a mystery, because I don't think I'll ever solve it.
...I finally have a place that feels like HOME. (Operative word being FINALLY...what, I've only been here...10 months?)
The internet situation is quite frankly bizarre, (wireless everything but despite having the network key and a strong signal, I can't connect, and there's nothing resembling a modem around here,) so I'm going to try to get that sorted out starting on Tuesday because it's a bank holiday long weekend so nothing will be moving on Monday.
I'm...really, really tired. Today was generally okay, but it was rough around the edges because of an old dog, new tricks kind of situation which I ended up not coming out the victor in, because I was too much of a wuss to hold my ground when the moment came to start an argument which I could not possibly lose. Because even though I could have argued my way into the Right within ten seconds and won, I was still all "...eeeee argumentage! *shrinks back*"
My head is going to explode. I'm at the point where I realize that life is being really, really horrible right now in a multitude of ways, and even as I strive to make things better, the universe is eternally cock-blocking me at every turn.
Please join me in a moment of silent prayer and finger-crossing that I may somehow, miraculously, find a way to get to my VERY IMPORTANT MEETING this afternoon, because if I don't...my heart will break, most of my insides will die, and I will be stuck in hell for the next three months.
I have been wanting Out pretty much since last January. I have a chance at Getting Out. I feel like I'll do anything to take that chance...even if I have to use my last scraped-together pennies to get a frickin' taxi, I will GET TO THAT MEETING OR PERISH.
Have been for...just over two months, now. Work is just shy of being overwhelming. I've not slept a full 8 hours straight in weeks due to said work, even on days "off." I'm being driven closer to violent fantasies by my colleagues than I've ever been, before. Maybe it's the close quarters, but I find myself swearing under my breath and wanting to smack people a lot more than usual.
Well I arrived home on Sunday (although I left the Philippines on Sunday, too, flew backwards and lost 14 hours.) All is well, there'll be photos as soon as I can be arsed to upload/edit them all. (Look, I've barely started unpacking my suitcase and doing laundry. It's been five days!) Yesterday I finally got in touch by phone with Kathy from Cork--all is set for January, and I've only to book my flight(s) and trains and/or buses and then let them know when and where I'll be arriving. Had a massive talk with my sister the other night about the disappointed expectations of what home/parents will be like after having been away and been "grown up" for the first time, for a while. Eventually got around to the notion that we've no idea what the future holds and heck, I could be married in a year, for all I know. It's an adventure. So last night I got taken out to the Garrick's Head Pub, where I had 1 pint of Keeper's Stout (local brewery,) followed by 3 pints of Guinness. Heather told me upon arrival to "drink faster" and then she got MAD later when she'd seen that I'd pounded back the Guinness. I did NOT throw up, though I felt like it for a bit and my brother said he'd pay me 100 dollars to vomit in public. Tiina got me chewing some gum and Heather made me sit up. ("The trick is to PRETEND you're sober!") Also--who puts washrooms DOWN STAIRS in a pub? I fell up them only once, though I fell down the stairs later at home when I remembered I'd forgotten to take off my shoes and tried to do an about-face on the bottom step. Anyhow, we left about 10.45 and Heather was enraged to discover Starbuck's closed at 10 and not 11, as she was the DD and mostly grumpy and full of ginger ales by then. We came across Kathleen and her friend, I forget her name. Kathleen was pissed, but it was nice to see her. She hugged me and threw her drink cup on the ground--I condemned her for littering, but then we both started giggling. Heather said although we'd aimed at plastered, I was really more on this side of tipsy. I don't much care--I was already feeling kind of awful. Got home, drank much water, went to bed at 12. Woke up at 5.45 and eventually got up and had a cheese and pickle sandwich at 6.20. Now I feel kind of gassy and vomity, but I'm really not certain what to attribute that to.