conversational ability

I rarely write out conversations that I have with people. I just write about something that I am ruminating on.

Yesterday, I took the morning to work from home because I had to schedule an Argos delivery. Yes, I know, argos. Chavvy chic. But, they had some storage items and I couldn't find it anywhere else. Delivery mix up as is wont to occur. To save myself from going to almost Birmingham and picking it up, I said deliver Wednesday morning and risked that my boss would approve a morning from home. She did. I received delivery of a paltry few things, then rushed in to the City for a 2 hour meeting. "Did you you get the things delivered all right?" says Mrs. Boss, with a sweet if crooked smile. Yes, yes it was fine, if not a hassle of course. I had not told her it was to fix a mix up, nor did I reveal the argos source. Then she continues, with veiled stereotypical cultural passive aggressiveness that the American who has been in therapy side of me detests, "you know, John Lewis will deliver on Saturdays for a small extra fee, it is quite convenient." I look at her. Aghast at frankly how rude this is. Then I say " oh really, how nice and convenient. Funny how fate conspires against you even when you try your hardest thought This delivery was supposed to come on my flatmates move day, but they messed up of course, so to try to not deal with the hassle of them sending it back to the store, me being charged, having to obtain a credit and then rebuy, I begged them to come Wednesday morning again. London! What do you do!" ….Take that.

I went to see my friend Fliss in her office down the hall. I said " how goes it?" She says" allright but I am really tired of writing this article". "What is it on" I enquire? She says"oh the usual, boring employment law cross border concerns when companies are acquiring divisions in other eu countries. It has been done so many times, it is just a bore to right. 2000 words and 1500 more to go." I said, "hmm, does sound boring. Just like my stuff. Why don’t' you jaz it up, by inserting subliminal words". "subliminal words, like what, she says?" "Well, like words that have a sexual connotation". We start giggling. "You know," I say, words like "conjoin, hot, sexy, intertwine, lace, hard, penetration". Giggling escalates. She says, "you know, I just ought to do that. I feel a new inspired with a new energy". I said "there you go, feel, make sure to use feel in there. "and Moist, I have to use that one too". "well done Fliss, send a copy to me!" An example as to how crazy magic circle law firms really can be.

I am in kung fu on Tuesday. As always, I am trying to compartmentalise the attraction I have for KFI, place it in a box on a high temple at a Buddhist retreat in China (metaphysically), and focus on learning kung fu. Class begins and ends, and during the class, besides trying hard, making mistakes, feeling stupid, and berating myself for feeling stupid, at one point I take my socks and watch off and throw them by the fireplace next to where I am standing. At the end of class, WKI, who has complimented my new trainers ("nice shoes holls") and used my shortened name rather than my full name, is halfway across the room. I am taking several steps towards my pile of crap by the fireplace, which happens to have an overhanging mantle. In my peripheral vision, as I am bending down to get my stuff, i see him rushing over to me, and says "be careful holls, don’t' hit your head coming up". By the time he says coming up, he is by my side. What? "that's okay, I will watch myself, although you must know that' completely in character for me to do, especially the way this day is going". And I thought to myself – that is positive flirting with me without any instigation on my behalf. Cha. Ching. Or wing. Chun…okay that was bad, sorry.

I am at my flatmates birthday drinks, last Friday night. I have a quasi-date with me. It is one of those times where the last time I was with this guy, he kissed me, and he instigated going out, but he is still giving mixed signals as to where he wants to be – friends, or dating. Ignore the UK/US differences in dating for now. We go to the bar, and have been talking and laughing on the tube ride there. Actually, he had me in stiches, telling me how he was thinking of how to set my telly up in my room when there is really now room for it. We get a drink and are talking. Strange because we are talking and I am flirting, but from my perspective, his body language is actually quite reserved and standoffish. Yet, he is saying things like, well "blob, blob about my ex girlfriend, although I know you shouldn't talk about exes". We talk about jobs, career paths, dreams and goals. " I would like to live near the beach someday. Not London near the sea live, but proper live by a beach. And if I truly believe in that, then perhaps I need to start thinking of when and where. " "By the beach? That is for old people. Why do you want to do that? Beaches are full of old wrinkly people who have retired there". "excuse me, but do we have the same concept of beach? As far as I know, lots of non-elderlies live in Miami, LA area, San Diego, the Caribbean (Caribbeeeean, he corrects me, into the English pronunciation, what have you, I say)". "oh, I see, when you say beach I think of English sea side." "well, that isn't what I mean, and actually I definitely mean not when I am old. I want to do it while I can still look good in a bikini" "well, if you get a place in Miami beach, you let me know, I would love to come visit" "okay, I will, but if I do it will have to be in the next 8 years, when I can still wear a bikini". "okay, we get the image holly, you in the bikini" "excuse me," I say, and look at him. I can't believe he said that. About 5 minutes later, I find something to say, "We get the image, you don't have to go there again". Yes, I throw the quote back in his face. He looks at me. "Fuck off" he says, and turns his head. "Did you just tell me to fuck off!" I ask, a slightly stunned and shocked tinge to my voice? He turns his head slightly, as if attempting to look abashed, minimally, almost challengingly so, and says "yes, I did, and we wonder why I don't have a girlfriend".

How do you define Career

Stay in this country. Find another job. Enjoy what I do for work.

These are the goals that I would like to conjoin into a master life plan that would zoom me into the room of success. By success, which is a subjective term that like love means something different to each of us, I mean meet each of those while keeping myself in a comfortable manner. It is all relative, but I think that currently I am on the low end of a comfortable manner.
To meet these goals is not an easy task or I would be here writing and saying did that. It is not easy to be a legal expat. Finding another job assumes I know what other job I can do and that the job can take care of the first point. Enjoying work means I have determined that there is a path that I would enjoy and that I can make money from. And that path will allow me to stay in the country. Each point is connected to another and what may fulfil one point, another point would bust. An answer to one question implicates an answer to another. And what one decides creates a new experience; and this is called, my life. It is a large tangle that frustrates me quickly.

What I do now is act as a training lawyer assisting clients and normal solicitors regarding a small, specialised area of law. It is a small niche with not much further growth opportunity, other than spinning the same wheels, and perhaps making more money for doing it, well, more. What I would like to do is use my skills now and broaden my industry experience by moving into management consulting. I am going to look for a job in that field, located in London with potential for other global experience, this summer. Should I whack myself on the ass and further refine my CV with the goal of nabbing such a job. But then how much have I accomplished but to put myself in another career pool, working for a company behemoth, enjoying the challenge initially but probably becoming bored and frustrated that I do what I do to make money and not because I enjoy it.

But not everyone is someone who enjoys there job. The economy of strong countries wouldn't survive otherwise. So I ask myself, which side am I on? The questions I really wish I could answer, and I can only do so if I take some risks, is can I go out there, start my own business doing xyz that I enjoy and make money at it while not being kicked out of the country?
This is a question I do work on; I have drafted business proposals and am starting to network and have meetings with people about the concept and starting up a business overall.
However, there are broader goals that I aspire to as well. Those items that are filed under "fifty things I will do before I die" type of chapter. I want to live by the (warm) ocean, I want to live in the mountains, and I want to own a flat in London. I never know if find partner for life and have children should be part of that chapter. I think I can control whether I live in the Caribbean. I do not think I can control whether I meet someone to share my life with.

I will be taking my journal and sketching out thoughts on these themes this weekend. I leave for Texas this weekend to spend a short break with my family. I am really excited but I am wondering whether I will be the object of a petit intervention. The what are your plans, isn't this enough and when are you coming home. Probably with some money thrown in. It is a possibility, and there have been a few rumblings over the past year. I hope they don't mess with the potential fun and happiness vibe by trying to push me in a corner that I don't want to inhabit. But I will just be honest with them, and I do have my own purse to fund my life. Just say Non to emotional blackmail.It does not escape my notice that going from amazing life in London to plush family home in Texas is a massive blessing. I will do what I can to not take it for granted. Cue: sslluuuuurp…she sips from icy margarita in sunny garden….

Ive got my orange crush

His hair is not orange, but a dark auburn. but absolutely do I have a crush on him.
My wing chun instructor (WCI). Who I have mentioned before.
After allowing myself to fruitlessly analyse the situation until I wore holes in the fabric, I he just might find me attractive too.

My arguments are thus. When I met him I instantly thought wow. I don't mean the thought oh he is nice looking, I mean chemistry wow; your body is reacting without your brain working in conjunction. This rarely happens to me. I seldom have true chemistry with someone. Unfortunately, when I do, I am deluded into thinking it is special and make rash judgements accordingly. However, the few times I have had chemistry with someone, as opposed to "liking them", the physical bit has always been reciprocated. Up to a point. What one has to learn is, reciprocity does not equal relationship. . So from there, I think that chemistry does not equal love, but to be in love you need chemistry as an ingredient in that primordial soup.

Unfortunately, and why I rarely have relationships, every guy that I have experienced chemistry with has been emotionally unavailable for a relationship. Lesson: G, the guy at work. the only guy in the UK that this has happened with. and No, definitely not with my last boyfriend. Whether chemistry is there because of unavailability, or I have bad luck, is an entirely different post. Thus, from my pov with WCI, chemistry is present, and history supports a high probability that he feels something too.

There had been a month hiatus of class because we ran out of a venue. WCI attraction aside, I really enjoy this class. I prodded the business owner R to start them up again (send an email to prod, of course I did). I could not go to last week's first-time back class, but went last night. And here are the signs that I am presenting for analysis.

A group of us entered the venue together and WCI was there already; upon seeing me he smiles and says "hayyyeee" in greeting. To no one else.

After initial drills we relax our drills stance, and my back hurts so I do a stretch and kind of go, "mhhmmmhm", like a low moan. Now, I am in back of the class, and my back began to hurt a bit because I have been moving boxes relating to flat move, for over a week (first to and fro, and now internally in our flat). I bend back up and he is looking at me, concerned, and mouths, are you okay? I smile and say yes, fine. It seems as if, although I am at the back of the room, and there are 7 other people, he is looking at me. And I am not making a production out of my stretch. Conclusion, he is paying me attention.

His assistant, A, helped myself and my drill partner on some moves. Eventually WCI came over and watched and then gave some help and said, "good job". I said, well, A has been helping us, ie I am only doing well because I have been helped. Then he laughs, makes eye contact and says, you sound like you are emphasising that A has been helping you and not me. I pause for a second because I am thinking, this sounds like flirting, and I said, no not really, but now that you say that..., [and smile back].

Class ends and I begin talking to Miss K, another drill partner I had, who is also a lawyer. We walk out together and I decide to leave without saying hi, or thanks, to WCI. What is the point of the extra face time? There are several newer people in the class, including women, and they might think, oh so she is the one that flirts with WCI. That and being shy is the easy route. I walk back to the studio where I had changed (and where we originally had our classes), retreived bag and walked around the corner to the bus stop. I was hoping to have seen him after I grabbed my bag, but I know he drove to the venue so I thought oh well, mentally blowing him a kiss in my head.

As usual, but this time fortunately, the bus was not arriving any time soon. Then I see three guys walking my way towards the studio: the WCI, A and a guy who helps run the studio. We see each other, and I wave. Guy goes to studio, A walks by me along side WCI, and asks him if he wants some noodles from the takeout place. WCI says no and stops in front of me to say hi. Do we get that, he walks over to me to chat. The other 2 guys go other ways.

So we chat. Blob blob work, class tonight, he asks if I plan on continuing and if Tuesdays is good, were my drill partners okay, blob blob. Is your back all right? how have you been during the break, you did a good job, ...all the while we are smiling at each other, mirroring each other's body language, and well, I do believe flirting. Then he takes his leave and goes to the studio. Considering that was his destination, he could have waved to me and gone straight there. But no, he came over and chatted about blob all for 5ish minutes.

Well. That is my analysis. I have no idea what to do with it. Maybe I will turn it into a short story with some steamy sex scenes. We live in single world searching for someone to share with, who wants to share back, but being single is so much fun too. So i have found orange crush...lets move on to dr. pepper and mr. pibb....as long as they are going nowhere anyway, let's just add to the pile.

Your Mission is the read this post in under 5 minutes

I saw MI:III over the weekend. And I thought it was a positive entry into its genre. I overheard some lawyers in my elevator say they did not heart the film because it was a Cruise ego fest. But i think that they developed the baddies quiet well for this series, more so than others. I thought Hoffman gave a dead dry and evil character sketch that was never over done, just simply mean and greedy. And i think there was a veiled political commentary in Billy Crudup's reveal monologue at the end. At least, it made me begin to think about the philosophy of the good and bad, and the dialectic that connects the two. Without a bad, there cannot be a good. So perhaps those that label themselves as good promote the bad to effectuate their assumed positive advantage, politically and socially.

Okay, so maybe Billy wasn't really saying that and my brain that was trained on Xfiles loves to make up conspiracy theories.

Back to the movie itself. I know that i have lived in the UK for awhile when i recognize Simon Peg and Jonathan Ryse Myers, and can tell that Peg's accent is from Southern England (Gloucestershire to be precise). And who can't tell from those gorgeous eyes that JRM is Irish. I did not recognise the two interests of Ethan. Both are from JJ's career as tv writer/director. I rarely watch TV, even in the US, so those chics were unfamiliar to me. And I am proud of JJ because i think he transitioned very well from TV to screen. I could see the Alias allusions in his directing too. Now i know why that show was so good, aside from it's great cast. In fact, if at the end of the MI:III, Sydney was to walk through the door and say welcome to SD6, I would not be surprised at all. It felt like a parallel adventure/sci fi world was being presented to the audience.

So go see this film if you want a good action film and won't puke at the Cruise element. My only complaint was that the admonishments of normal relationships got drawn out, and that the ending was a bit too romantic; it could handle an edgy continuation.

House Rules for Residents of ~~~ Ca&&&wn Road

as of monday, my flatmate and i live somewhere else. She owns, i rent from her. and touch wood our relationship will stay as positive and special as it has been. She received a document via email, and this document contained the Rules For Residents. I have provided my amended version below. Apparently, we reside amongst Directors. and they have rule that are their duty to enforce.

The following house rules have been agreed by the ground floor flat of ~~~ Ca&&&wn Road Limited, and apply to any residents of ~~~ Ca&&&wn Road and any guests that they sponsor:

Noise Nuisance:
If you are going to make a noise, it better be because you are having a party, with a dj, free drinks, and a hot guy to girl ratio of 10:1. No other noise allowed.

Domestic Refuse:
We wish that the council removed all chavs stuffed in black bin liners, but it doesn't happen. Instead, no chav-ey refuse allowed as guests or in the common areas. Please try not to have your garbage out for several days, but we know people have to go on holiday, or get really busy.

Recycled Refuse:
We don't do sloppy seconds. Unless they are celebrity hot. Or celebrity mingers.

Communal Areas:
No storage of personal items can be made in the communal passages unless we can borrow it.
Residents are expected to pick up and sort the post if it is lying around whenever they have the chance. But we know that you might be in a hurry to go get ready for your date or a big party and that is more important.

The front door must not be slammed, unless you are mad at someone. All residents must pull the door shut quietly by hand to reduce noise.

General:
If any issues arise that cannot be resolved between parties residing at ~~~ Ca&&&wn Road, these will be referred to the ….what the heck? Who has time for this crap?...

The Directors will direct their own darn lives and mind there own business. If they want to arbitrate and decide what the appropriate, go have kids and move away.

PS
Please do not store dates' dogs in your rooms. Any stalkers will not be allowed. And no wanking in the common areas. Always leave ~~~ Ca&&&wn with a coat of lipstick and some mascara, and your keys.

A gorgeous word called Friday

Friday. Such a gorgeous word that deserves the gorgeous day that today is being. Walking to my tube stop today I told my brain to shut up, stop thinking about work and furniture, and just breathe in (whilst pretending no fumes) the spring blue sky and sparkling colours.

I have been shuttling crap (ie well…crap) back and forth each night. Tonight I may have a helper in the form of G, the GFW. In a hallway convo, I mentioned the move, and sweetly he offered his services which are made even better that he has his mom's car. Our relationship is an odd one. Six months ago I would be dreaming about how to seduce him. But it does seem that we can be friends without any of that getting in the way. maybe. at times i think is it worth it. when i decide that it actually hurts me to merely be friens, i will back away. but that isn't now. Anyway, but he may bail out because he is at a funeral today. And Saturday I have a birthday party to go to at Milk n'Honey. There will be some gay guys there so I am sure I will get lashed and talk fashion and style and teeth whitening.

M, the Portsmouth builder, has been calling me consistently. I can't remember the last time that has happened. I look forward to going there next week. And getting to know him better.

I received a blast from the past this week; and I find those moments fantastic. But this one really floored me. Pumpkin, a guy lawyer at my old firm in Dallas, emailed me out of the blue to say, are you still around? I responded quickly, yes, in London, loving London, really glad you contacted, tell me your story. And he did. He has moved to LA, writing and filming, doing some freelance law, loves it and wrote in a style that was completely apposite his old self. In a very good way. I wrote back, is that you? You sound so much better, happier, etc. The odd bits are, he and I had a mild fling. He chased me, he was not my type (he loved George W, etc. etc.), I kept saying no, then finally, I said, ok, lets try dating. And audience, what does he do? Runs away. By the time, 9months later, I left for the UK, we barely spoke, and he was not even invited to my leaving drinks. In his email, he said, I think about you and I miss you… you were the highlite of Dallas. What, are we talking the same lifes here? I wrote him back , detailing my life, asking him more about his. And strangely, I have a trip to LA tentatively planned to see a school chum who lives there, as I will be in Santa Fe for a wedding. So I said, and btw Pumpkin, I will be in LA , so maybe we can meet up. He writes back, YOU MUST CALL ME AND LET ME TAKE YOU OUT….you are very unique and I hope you have figured this out…

Camera focuses in on me, I roll my eyes and sigh. Maybe I am entering the years when all the boys that ran away in the past, and there are many, are now men, and try to contact me. That sounds like a great chic lit book. But I am too snobby to write chic lit should I write a novel.

I read the papers and the news web sites. I listen to Radio 4 in the mornings. I miss NPR's All Things Considered. My brain does have other things to think about besides food and men and the lack of either in a material manner in my life. I was not shocked at Labour's rerouting at the local elections. I was shocked about the Cabinet reshuffle. Prescott's behaviour and his continuity as deputy astounds me. And he is still there! It also astounds me why the prettyish PA would do him. Ick to the nth degree. I know power can be an aphrodisiac, but I think he would have to be the world leader to have a remote effect on me. Bluck. I think Clark should have stayed and corrected the mess. I think the problems at the lower tiers will be compounded by the awkwardness of the transition to a new HO secretary. Maybe this is a good time for me to go on the DL, get another job with out a work permit….And Moussaoui received a life imprisonment sentence earlier this week. When I heard that news I thought, my whole state is saying as a collective conscious, if that trial had happened here in Texas, aint no way he would have not gotten the day-eth penalteee….i am not sure of my opinion of the DP. I used to be for, and now I am examining my opinion. But I am not disappointed in my country and its legal system because he received jail for life. The DP has several arguments. Two primary are punishment and deterrence. Deterrence. Start whacking the hands off of thiefs, and crime goes down. However, we know that due to the belief system of these terrorists, the DP will not deter them. And punishment? The key is who the punishment from who's point of view will you determine. The victim's society or the perpetrator. The victim's society is split. And religion and belief system becomes a factor as well. But lets assume that a majority of the country is like George W. Thus the DP is a greater punishment and Christian values will get shoved aside in this exception to the rule. From what I have read ( and I have read a great book, Al-Queda, by Jason Burke an Observer journalist) a DP for a Islamic terrorist is not punishment but allows them to be a martyr as they believe, and their sub-society believes. But life imprisonment, on US soil, has to be considered Evil for them. So, judgement aside, I am satisfied with the verdict. Notwithstanding, it does not do one iota of difference in changing the current geopolitical situation which will continue to promote hate, fear and its physical extensions by means of violence on innocent people.

Epi-Cure

My relationship with food is an odd one. I love food and eating and cooking. Unprocessed and organic products are important to me. But I insist on a thinish body so I have to live some of my food lifes and loves vicariously through others. Or pretend. Or fantasise about how much fun I will have when I am pregnant some day. Or have a wealthy husband and I am not working, just eating and working-out and providing heirs here and there. We have gorgeous food stores here in London, like Ottolenghi and my local butcher HG Walters. Yet it is the same for me as if I go to a Christian Louboutin store or a strip club in Marylebone (been there, done that): all look and no touch.

With some beach trips and short skirt season on the way, I have entered the Diet Zone. Not a silly crash thing, nor am I counting calories. I am merely cutting out dairy and wheat for 2 weeks. I usually eat those on a minimal basis, but now it is zero. Thus I crave, dream and masturbate to the concept of pizza. I have given myself until next Friday, when I go to Portsmouth to see M, to stick to this way of eating. Combined with the nightly up and down stairs that is my workout regime dictated my my flat move over the next week, I should melt away those 5 lbs.

This weekend, knowing I was about to make many foods redundant, I expressed my love by actually eating some high calorie things. Joy!
M came in town from Portsmouth and I made us dinner. To start we had a salad of lettuce, pear, toasted walnuts with a sherry vinegar dressing. But he didn't eat the walnuts because he thinks he is slightly allergic to nuts. Which is why he did not disclose that when I asked "what is there you don't/can't eat" and he only said no fish. Sigh. Men. Instructions? Follow? Then organic beef fillet steaks on parmesan polenta, courgettes and haricot verts sautéed with olive oil, chilli and dwarf sweet onion, and a potato gratin. For pud we had chocolate/ginger ice cream on pavlova, topped with chocolate sauce. It all turned out really well. For my peace of mind, the menu had dairy, but it was gluten free.
Top all that off with too much obligatory drinking as one is wont to do with a visitor from out of town.
The next morning we went to Harlem in Notting Hill, which has an American brunch menu. I talked myself out of the pancakes, and we both had omelettes, sausages and corn fritters. I have yet to have a good omelette in the UK. It was more like a frittata. If I was French, it would have horrified me. But the corn fritters were so yummy – fried bits of cheesy corn batter, not too course or fine, and a very mild cakey sweetness. With a bloody mary to finish that off, I made the calorie faerie very happy. I needed my coffee fix so at Starbucks on the way to the museum I had a skinny mocha. I never have mochas – the sugar, the calories! But, i thought, we are so far down the path today, just pile it on the bandwagon. As my friend Kirk in the US says, if it is all at once, your body rejects most of it anyway instead of adding to the collection.

I did not have to eat again until dinner that Saturday evening when I was on another date, this night with P, the Swiss investment banker, which was at a great gastropub in Primrose Hill called the Engineer. A regular of the Primrose Hill set. I did spy any of the Set. There were some clever looking, quirkily artsy patrons there. One has to wonder if they are novelists, musicians, or film directors. They had that look which says I don't have to be beautiful to be cool and I am at such a level that you know I am Somebody but you don't know Who. Very typical London. Last summer I had been to the place for brunch but was not impressed. However, my dinner there was exceptional. I started with carrot lentil soup that had a varied texture with just the right amount of mild curry flavour with overtones of coriander and cumin. Not too much, nor was I eating something that was supposed to be a smoothie drink. My seabass for once was not overcooked, and on a pile of barely mashed jersey potatoes, devoid of unnecessary butters and creams, and drizzled with a recently made parsley pesto. I only needed a touch of fresh ground pepper for seasoning.
The overall theme of the food was spring rustic, nothing too formal and tasted as if just from the Garden. The food wasn't the only rustic item. I was aware of my own simpleness in the company of P because of his language proficiency. He can speak four. P doesn't intimidate me, but I do feel like I have to work on dusting the I am an American and thus poorly educated especially linguistically chip off my shoulder. And then I have to work to make sure that this effort doesn’t show. Don't mind me, just trying not to sound like a Philistine who can only speak English unless she is drunk (when she will launch sporadically into Russian or Spanish or Spussian). He does not make me feel stupid, but just question what I can bring to the table other than ignorance in languages. I believe I have identified an insecurity spot.

I didn't eat much for the rest of the weekend. I seared some tuna steaks, threw some lettuce in a bowl, and had my obligatory porridge. I had one more foray into the naughty with a box of popcorn at the movies on Monday. Now, I am planning my downfall pizza in a few weeks. Do I make it or buy it? How many cheeses? Veg or add meat? Tomato or white sauce…

Now home to move some boxes and work off that Pavlova. Which is Russian by the way.