you pull me under.

i dont know what to do anymore. or what to think. or which way to go. whats best for me. shouldnt someone else tell me whats best for me? as lately im thinking i’ve had no clue. ive been too busy trying to think of whats best for everyone else.

its 9.02am and im here at work. where i spend most of my hours in a day. and my refuge amongst the clutter and computers and sculpture of metal and wood, is my blog. or random emails from people i love. or sometimes, work itself, when i actually get around to doing it and i give it all i’ve got.

i am tired of running to people who have heard it all before. its like ive stripped layers of my skin everytime i’ve turned to them when shit goes down, and now im raw and everybody can see everything. the weakness and confusion and the most frightening part, the real part, the part where i have nowhere else to go. the part where i dont know what to do.

i dont have a boyfriend sometimes, i’ve realised. i have a 24-hour teacher. we have driven each other up the wall, especially last night, to the point where we couldnt even talk anymore and the only things that came out were stutters of some word or another, and i was treated like a child, being told not to speak, to go to the other room, to sit quietly and sulk.

is this what i want in life? for i know if i try harder it could be ok. he wants the house. and the travel. and the security. and all that. but is that what i want NOW? i know i want that later, i’ve always wanted that – for later – but what if this all just scares me shitless, and i run and i run, and i look back and regret for taking off and not trying just that little bit harder?

then in the middle of the night. me in one room, and him in the other. the silence that exists when you’ve turned the light off, and you cant sleep. the little noises you pick up with eager ears – the rustling of sheets, when he moves, the sigh. then, in the middle of the night. the weight of him sliding next to you, and enveloping you in his warmth. the apologies. the promises. the questions: are you going to leave me?
i dont know.
i dont want you to leave me.
i dont know.

i dont know. i dont know.

imperial glory.

you didnt know then the habit that people have,
of coming back.
by way of dreams. or a note. a cigarette, a word.
even the way the sun shines on a certain angle, on a certain thing.
an accent. a dream.
a cigarette, a word.

you’re nobody till somebody cares.

two weeks. of nothing but sun, surf, bottles of red and champagne, beer at one in the afternoon, tan lines, Vogue and Marie Claire, and novels i’ve been meaning to read but never had time to devour. there were barbeques and never ending card games with mooch and amanda, j and me, and dean when he was down for a couple of nights. silly drunken moments involving dean sleeping with a watermelon, skinny dipping in other people’s swimming pool at 1 in the morning, racial revelations in Anglesea pub where a table-full of blokey blokes couldnt stop looking at Dean (“Um…im an Asian Gay Boy at an Aussie pub. Blame them?”), late night D&M’s about love lost and love gained, racist UNO competitions, one swollen eye, one brother who’s sexuality was truly questionable, one fight over my smoking, one rolled ankle and a guitar.

i needed so much to get away from all this monotonous, stressful work slash xmas and new years drama. there was nothing better than waking up at 10am and realising that there’s no need to get up at all, only to shower, and have a slow breakfast, read the paper, then head down to the beach for a tan.

we did day trips to Lorne for seafood platters, and d and i went to airey’s for fish and chips where he proceeded to pretend he was part of the chinese tourist group, and tried to board their bus to see if the conductor would notice. we played pool and pretended to be hardcore Aussies, so much so that it rubbed off on dean and next thing you know he’s on a surfboard in his Diesel boardshorts. we drove and sang to Alanis, just like Alanis did. we drank beer and sang to Wonderwall over and over again. it was a break down to the truest definition of break, for we did nothing but relax and i could almost feel the oxygen running through my veins, reviving what layed dormant for so freakin long being in this office day in and day out.

*sigh*

and so now i am back. my shoulders are dark and peeling into bizarre little shapes similar to butterflies and maps of australasia. i woke up this morning at 7am, first time in weeks, and thought of family members dying flew through my mind just so i can stay in bed. my email count: 46. replied email count: 24. and its already 3pm. welcome back! welcome back! the clients are saying. hmmm thanks.

on a brighter note however, both bosses have told me we are hiring a Mini Paulina to take over my workload so i can take over bigger projects and take on THEIR workload. i hold interviews tomorrow. i aim to not hire anybody who may prove to be smarter than me, or more capable for fear that i’ll be dethroned. it’d be nice to get a little side-kick. someone like Ugly Betty, to send off for errands, like strong lattes and dry-cleaning. hmmmm.

up a hill. and down again.

sometimes the most mindless stupid shit come out of my mouth. almost always around people who know me well, so its not all that embarassing. i am excused for a fleeting second, because they know that im not really that blonde. but note the word ‘fleeting’, because shortly after, they realise i actually mean it. and they’re such good friends that i hear nothing but

silence.

like for instance, a few days ago when it was 35 degrees, j and i went to the beach. driving home, all salty and sunned out, we were driving up a steep hill with speed bumps. and i say: why would they put speed bumps on a hill? its not as if people speed UP a hill.
j: some people do. but its a two way street.
p: yeah but i seriously doubt people speed UP a hill. i mean driving DOWN a hill i can understand…
j: yeah paulina. its a two way street.
p: oh yeah! the hill goes down too!
*silence*

case in point.

under one roof.

j came home in the middle of the night, drunk and talking crap. he crawls into bed and he starts: im so sorry im such a sht bloke i never want to disappoint you you mean the world to me its good its cold its raining farmers must be happy i love you im such a shit bloke you are my world….
meanwhile im lying there wondering why it takes a slab of beer and some Chivas for him to open up and say all these things i always want to hear all the time but for fuks sake can it not be 5 hours before work you think?
the fact that these patches has given me temporary insomnia for the past or week or so wasnt helping his case (for five days straight i’ve gotten up at 2 in the morning to watch complete series of Sex and The City back to back, on my couch, basting in the midnight heat) so he’s lying there stinking of alcohol and cigarettes talking about his childhood and his emotions most of which he wont remember by 10am the next day.
fuk me dead.
so im back to work. 24 emails, half of which i’ve plowed through. feeling very in charge and resourceful, as though my insides have started chugging again like ol train wheels thats sat idle for a little while.
i like work. i like being busy at work. dont get me wrong the holidays were … eventful. i got a tan. i did some reading. had dinners fuelled with wine and long conversations. slept in. watched mindless tv. i spent time with people ive always wanted to spend more time with. i took mum to the movies. i ‘broke’ up with j after a competely inconsiderate night out and gave him my one month notice, while D and A sat outside in the car, engine running, cigarette ready to shove in my mouth. white car shining under white full moon.
i spent days after in relative calm and silence, polite conversations, slow walks to 7Eleven eating calipos in the heat. it was as though we had both put up the white flags from each end, and we were airing our wounds. that, or it could be a move to temporarily sweep shit under the carpet. how silly. for i write this down in full knowledge that that doesnt really mean its a good thing. i suppose its a bomb just waiting to go off again. but it has given J extra time to redeem himself it seems. he’s being very cooperative, like a child. just then he just rang the office to tell me how proud i’ll be when i get home. as he’s vacuumed the entire place, made dinner, washed the dishes, made the bed.

props to the man as he knew he was dealing with a woman at the very end of her patience.
props to the man as he knew food, and a nice tidy place, is a good initial step to calming my wrath.
nothing better than waking someone up by your absence.

but there were days i thought id go crazy during the holidays. idleness breeds contempt, i reckon. especially being in each others’ faces all the time, and its not exactly a big apartment, and there are only a few things i can amuse myself with if he’s in the other room and im in the other. note: must sell old computer. must buy new mac laptop.

so being back at work isnt that bad at all. i am lapping up the little chores i have to do like a puppy in the heat. punctuated by blog vomits which ive needed for oh so long.

had spanish with imma and D and A. one word: paella. i felt so sick after that i grew a second navel once i stepped out of the restaurant. opened our very belated xmas presents. it was really nice. and a beautiful end to the holidays.

how’s the patch going you say? well im down to my last one. which i didnt put on today, in hope that i can sleep tonight. that and its a bit of a waste, being 40 bux a box and all, for i smoked yesterday and downed at least three this morning.
but hey. im trying.

much love to andy and dean. for without you these holidays i’d be a pyschotic blundering lonely biatch. you are my angels.

wisemen.

it is very rare that i am stumped for words. very rare. because i made it my personal business to work with words as much as i can as long as i can see alright. or write alright. but today – lately – i am stumped for words.

i can talk about xmas, and how my mother met J’s family. i can talk about NYE but even that’s a big dark mess in my head right now. i can talk about relationships but i am probably the worst person to preach about it at this moment, seeing i dont exactly have my relationship down pat.

so much so that last night, for the first time ever, i walked away. d picked me up, and i slept in their spare room on a mattress and stayed up for a little bit – not too long mind you – thinking whether im doing the right thing, or even – what the flying fuk am i doing exactly?

the whole dismantling of a life that you built with one other person and starting from scratch doesnt bother me. it makes me nervous to an extent, but i know i can do it. D’s done it. Mum’s done it. Will Smith in Pursuit of Happiness did worse. And look at that guy he plays now? Everyone’s done it. But i havent. But i know ill be alright. Im always alright.

Im always alright.

what scares me the most is that years from now, or months from now, ill look back and regret this move. for i may never find that one person which for some reason im always freakin looking for. and theres been moments that i think Yup this could be the one and i fall on my arse and realise that i just deluded myself. what if months from now, i catch up to J’s phase in life that he’s in now – and its too late? i will become an old lonely single 30-something desperate woman with roots and lots of cats with pyscho names. what if its too late? too late?

thank god for dean. for without him id be walking the messy streets of my mind on my own.