Famous Last Words.

I am wearing the shirt that I was in when I was caught up in the hurricane being an evacuee. I bought in LA a few days before that, and haven't worn it ever since that fateful day. I don't even remember its existence, until of course, two days when I moved house. Nope, no more scars or recurring nightmares anymore. It has been more than a year ago and it feels like yonks ago. Just a tad surreal and incredible how much guts I've got and if faced with the same situation again, I don't know if I would be able to pull it off again.

Settled into the new place pretty effortless, at least I didn't get the where-the-hell-am-I feeling when I wake up in the morning. It still feels like a hotel room, all nice and clean and comfortable, but no emotions towards it. It's all right, and I am not even missing the water view yet, the the bloody construction noise is a bit of a downer, and the U2 concert this weekend which I could probably hear. It doesn't help that I don't like them at all. But at least I have people to bleed my ears out with me, since I am having the house-warming party on the same night. That should be fun, but another round or shopping, preparation and cleaning up.

I am having a sense of deja vu with reagrds to my brother and his missus. They are talking through me, instead of to each other. This is how it has always been with mum and dad, and now another couple. Just what the hell is happening? And how much shit can I get embroiled in before I crack too? And how many times can a third party help? Considering the number years ahead of them, and at least 20 I must say going by normal human lifespan, they should at least try to sort it out between them. But then again, easier said than done. Communication is hardly easy sometimes between two people. And yes, this me talking.

Work is boring at the moment, just dealing with the usual stuff. Boring, boring. I am just cruising along for the remaining three weeks. Paycheck after paycheck, pay off the bills, get into the cycle of the new rent, save some for the upcoming, and a lot more for shopping and Christmas presents.

And yeah, for no apparent reason, on Tuesday, what was supposed to be a simple dinner in the city became a shopping spree and a drinking session. Half a grand down and I reckon I have done my retail therapy, for this week at least, till next Wednesday when the Chadstone sale comes around. So I gave myself the excuse that a guy would never have enough shirts, or Kiehl's products for that matter. I will wear them, use them, need them at any point.

Philip is still harping over the fact that the old folks are not willing to head up to Beijing for good. I still reckon for the most part, he scared them off, and yes, his wife too. The environment is just not conducive enough to convince them. Actually, I should have known better too, stupidly buying that expensive airticket.

Everyone is dying to see Amanda, but the baby comes with the burden of two bickering adults. Not to mention the whole bunch of narrow-minded village people who can't save their sorry arses from being caught up in the whole deadly whirpool of money and status. It's so frustrating and depressing that I wish I (or anyone in our family for that matter) have never gotten involved, but we did. Why the hell do we need people to make us feel bad about ourselves? I am not impressionable like that but I could do without such characters in my life, better off without actually.

I will still get on that plane no matter what. All I can say right now is 'well, we'll see'. Or should I say 'surprise me' instead?

Barfly

It's amazing what how many things can be done in one day, at least it is so to me today. Collected the keys to my new apartment, lugged my guitar case to the post office to be posted off, did some house shopping in the city, came home had lunch, went to the new place and gaveit a good wipe down, had a swim and a sauna session, went home to cook dinner, spoke to dad, mum, brother and sis-in-law, got embroiled in their little drama and stories, watched an episode of Grey's Anatomy, back to new place to continue moving and unpacking, and now sitting here writing this with a glass of wine. Geez, I am indeed a wreck now.

Have I mentioned I hate realos? And Telstra and all those logistics that come with house moving. It's frustrating and turned you into an absolutely bastard. with all the yelling and rude words and plotting and hounding and endless emails and phone messages. Like seriously, is it a pre-requisite to be a bitch or a wanker to be in either of these fields?

More moving tomorrow and a goddam early delivery of my new furniture, when is this gonna end? Times spent, money spent, brain cells killed, skin cells degenerate and muscle cells overworked. Is it all worth it one wonders.

So I traded water view for city view but it doesn't matter really, as long as it's not too noisy. One gets over the water view after a while. Or rather, one gets over any view or anything after some time. And yes, I reckon what matters most is that I have a place to myself again, after four years I have gone one full circle to be on my own again. I guess I am done having housemates and all the compromises and dramas that come with it. Just for wanting someone to split bills and say hello to you when you come home comes with a whole of other BS it seems. Time to move on alone.

And most randomly, I am gonna point out that Brothers and Sisters and Six Degrees are the latest TV shows that I have been following faithfully, and Ray LaMontagne has been on loop on my iPod playlist. Even right now, I am listening to him. Pretty good stuff, almost Mraz-like.

So yes, after all the recent fiasco, be it with that ceratin someone, a coupla friends, at work or dealing with service people, I really seemed to have lost that certain edge that has always been part of me. A part of me that allows me to be indepedent and swift with moving on and be rational and most importanly, allows me to me as much as an individual would. I have almost let myself slide down to being a pushover or an all-around idiotic and characterless nice guy. I have to get it back, that edge. I have said this before but I will say it a thousand times more of that's what it takes to remind myself constantly and to push myself to get it back. Yes, I do like the mellower and more sensible and responsible me, but maybe it doesn't hurt at all if I turn back a few steps the other way from where I came from.

Can that be my new year resolution?

Take It or Leave It

Compounding sense of unease and frustrations, further aggravated by dealing with incompetent and irresponsible realos as well as communication breakdowns with friends. Ironically and very sadly, one is a very close friend, close in all ways, even in terms of proximity. He is driving me nuts, to the edge even. I can't, and have no wish to talk about him to any of my friends because I feel bad doing so. I never thought this day would come. I am losing respect for him day by day and that scares the shit out of me. Spineless, wimpish, whinny wuss of a man. I am only saying it here, I will only say it here. The 'show' will be over soon, it has to go on, I have to finish it with all the bright lights and applause and Kodak moments. It's all so fake and disgusting, but do I have a choice really?

This is only one side of the story of course. I may not be entirely right, and I am probably not. I may have been overly sensitive or just being a cranky old bitch. But yes, a few weeks seem like a long time at this juncture. Let me get out of here in a month's time.

I have been achieving solitude just fine lately. Walking down the streets alone, shopping alone, making plans alone, having lunch alone, drinking and smoking on the balcony alone, retiring to my room earlier than I should. I needed this. I am not depressed like a few months ago. I am just impatient, bored and tired of dealing with things and explanations and playing Mr Nice Guy.

I lost that edge, I need to have it back.

I have been to a coupla gigs and they were good. I feel alive again when I am surrounded by live (good) music and endless flow of (stimulating) conversations and drinks. And ordering my drinks, I seem to be always torn between all the favourite drinks of people I have felt something for, from Becks to Stella to gin and tonic but most times, I always just end up with my personal favourite of Mojito or Cooper's, or go one big round to end up with a Becks again.

So once again I found myself living with (and out of) boxes. I hate the feeling and I hate the smell of card boxes even more. I want to move but not entirely looking forward to it now that things have gone a tad ugly with the realo. I hate dealing with them more than the smell of card boxes.

Well, fucked-up realo is one thing (or one kind), being let down by your closest friends is another.

And then there are couples who make you feel bad about yourself being single and all and then there are couples who are perfectly fine to hang out with. And then there are high-flyers and professionals who make you feel that small about yourself and then there are some who are just way too cool to be defined by what they do or how much they have. Enough said. No need to name names here as always.

I never feel inferior, or annoyed or any of those 'predictable' emotions. I feel sad more than anything else. And I actually thought at my age, I should know my close friends really well and there will be no more unexpected stunts. I s'pose I was being naive and hopeful back there again. I need another slap (which I copped quite a few lately already, figuratively, of course).

Just like the (I dare say) excellent service and communications provided to people I collaborate with or deal with or even eBay with, I never get reciprocated in the same way from realos and most service providers. And most tragically, even for friends, I seem to be giving and giving and putting in effort incessantly but I seem to be the only fool who is doing it one-sidedly. Am I being naive and unrealistically hopeful here again?

Or am I just dellusional? Maybe I am a selfish and rude bastard of a Julian who has no bloody clue on manners and emotions. Whichever the case is, I am allowed to defend myself in all ways. I am not going to apologise and explain anymore.

A friend once said that actually, the sum total of what most couples go through in terms of compromise and grief really makes relationships less palatable. But then again, who doesn't want a soulmate eh?

She then went on to say that perhaps love is just the hope of a promise. It sounds a tad too tragic and practical for my liking, but of all people, who am I to dispute that?

I seem to have made a pact with the devil at some stage, where I traded good relationships for a good career. But then again, there are people out there, and one here right at home, who thinks science is a poor man's job that will never fetch the big bucks. True as it may be, but it is what I do and what I am probably good at. That's all I should care really.

I could have exploded, I could have stated my point of view or throw a hissy fit even, but I am beginning to learn to play the silent fool who just goes along with the flow. I could implode inside or write relentlessly here and I s'pose I could live with that. I have been vocal and honest before and look where that left me?

I am perfectly alright now but I still feel the miss sometimes and on some bad nights, still twist myself into a knot with all the memories playing in my mind and the highly fatal what if's.

Colleagues and friends commented that I am looking real fine nowadays and I am feeling great too, health wise. But hey, even celebs have their bad hair days, yeah?