It’s quite unnerving to keep hearing my name in the context of United Future, but at least it’s spelled differently. And FM seems nice enough, if a little misguided. She’s so young and bright and enthusiastic about changing the world, and when at the Amnesty candidates meeting on Foreign affairs I almost got persuaded to vote for her. But when it comes to conscience issues... she's in the Vic Christian Union, which means that she's towards the opposite end of the spectrum of Christianity to me.
I am so sick of the election already. I’ve stuck a vote green sticker on my car, posted this entry, and now I declare my input into the election debate officially over.
Any commenters who mention the E word on this blog will be severely punished.
*
Our cat has developed an annoying habit of standing on people’s faces during the night. I kid you not, she puts a front paw on each cheek, hind paws on forehead or throat, and tail whacking against an ear. You think that’s amusing? It’s not at 4am trust me. Sure I can kick her out but then she yowls like you wouldn’t believe.
She just loves being on top of things, whether it’s the bookshelf, an open door, the printer... she keeps on pushing the buttons, printing scans of nothing. Then she jumps on top of the desk and knocks everything to the floor.
*
What is it about the brain, what triggers it at any moment to suddenly throw up some random information from the past? What makes the mind suddenly dredge up a song from that cartoon movie you went to with your first boyfriend (you held hands, and later, during a game of truth and dare, he kisses you on the cheek). And now you spend the whole morning trying to remember the lyrics to one of the verses. Crazy.
*
I’ve been watching some really really bad TV lately. Because it’s there. And because I’m tired, and I don’t feel like doing much else.
The Will has got to be amongst the worst of reality TV. Don’t the contestants realise how gross they make themselves look? *shudder* And yet I just can’t turn away. Call it morbid fascination.
CSI and House are over for the season (and CSI Miami just isn't the same show), so there’s even less worth watching. It’s not all doom and gloom though. I can’t wait for Monday’s to roll around, bring Desperate Housewives (Susan is so hot). And NZ Idol is all good clean fun (Jackie is so hot) but I just can’t believe Keshia is gone! *sob*
*
It’s funny how you can hear a phrase so many times, and not really think about its components, about its precise meaning.
Grief-stricken: The way it contains the word stricken.
strike ( P ) Pronunciation Key (strk)
v. struck, (strk) struck, or strick·en (strkn) strik·ing, strikes
v. tr.
1. To hit sharply, as with the hand, the fist, or a weapon.
2. To penetrate or pierce: was struck in the leg by a bullet.
3. To collide with or crash into.
That’s it exactly.
Sometimes it stings like being slapped when you were expecting a caress.
Sometimes it pierces you, sudden as lightening.
Sometimes you come around a corner and collide with it, and for the rest of the day you carry bruises.
Grief. I identify with your description:
'Sometimes you come around a corner and collide with it, and for the rest of the day you carry bruises.'
Yes, it can be just like that. Exactly. Unexpectedly overwhelmed. Just gotta go through it it seems. No shortcut. Grief, just like Katrina's effect on New Orleans, changes us forever.
Posted by: adagio at September 6, 2005 05:51 PM