I have just realised that I haven't blogged in a few weeks. I don't want this blog to quickly disappear into the depths of obscurity. It's not that I haven't had ideas. I have had a couple of ideas that I thought would make great blog entries.
I just haven't had the energy. I am so tired all the time and constantly feeling sick so I went to the doctor a month or so ago, and my blood tests came back abnormal. For what I don't know. I did another blood test, and that also came back abnormal. So back to the doctor I went, where I did not have to wait even a single second when I got there and the doctor was actually pretty concerned. I don't think it is anything too major, but we're doing all the right tests to work out why I am feeling like this. She thinks it is possible that I might have picked up some nasty in South America that is lurking in my body.
Hopefully I will have some energy to write an awesome blog entry soon, but at the moment, I just can't do it.
Have a wonderful Christmas my small little smattering of readers. Mine will be lovely, pretty chill and with my family. I actually really enjoy Christmas day with my family. It is pretty chilled out, and all the niblings and siblings are there and really, Christmas is for the kids, so it's nice to have them there.
I've done most of my shopping. Now I just have to work out what the hell I am going to get my super fashion conscious, super cool 13 year old niece. I was never cool. I was never fashionable. I have ABSOLUTELY.NO.IDEA.
I'm the "cool aunty". My presents can't be "lame"
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
I used to own that!
I went to the op shop the other day with my mother. An op shop, for the un-kiwi-initiated amongst you is a secondhand store. Not one connected to a charity such as The Salvation Army, or Oxfam but one designed to make money. Here the clothes are a little more expensive (although still cheap on the grand scale of things) and for the little more expense, you get all your clothes separated into colour and type (eg red tops, jeans, coats etc). It makes it a lot easier to find what you want rather than scrambling through a huge pile of clothes, and is a hell of a lot more civilised than several pairs of hands grabbing at the same item, yelling "it's mine!, it's mine!".
These shops also have a book section, which I always visit, usually after the despondence of not being able to find a single top that I like or fits. The books won't let me down, I think as I run into my comfort zone (I actually HATE shopping for clothes) and inner sanctum. And they didn't. Gleaming at me was an almost brand new copy of Fingersmith by Sarah Waters, a fantastic book set in Victorian London with a lesbian slant with the characters. I LOVE this book and looking at it in all its shiny $3.50 glory, I picked it up and clutched it to my chest. "My precious"! I was excited as I had always liked this book since I read it, and now I would own it.
I got home. I looked at it, and from somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain, a little message was trying to get through. Finally it emerged.
I used to own this book.
I lent this book to a friend 3 years ago.
I still don't have it back.
It didn't worry me about this book, as I now own this book again, and my friend can keep it. However, it worried me that if I could forget that I once owned this book, how many other books remained separated from me.
Recently I have started writing my name in the front page of a book that I lend to people, but I have been burnt too many times now that I hardly ever lend my books out to people. I'll lend them to family or people that I know will look after them and that I see regularly.
HOW can people not use bookmarks and fold the corners over, or bend the front cover/ How can a book get that mauled?
When I was about 13 years old, I lent a 1000 page book to a friend of my mother's friends. I thought it would be in safe hands with an older, responsible lady. I, a 13 year old had read this book with just a couple of lines on the spine, so I figured it would be ok. She returned my book (that's a start I suppose), but it was so mauled and damaged that I still, 16 years later bring this story up to the chagrin of my parents who tell me to just get over it.
I couldn't. My book was ruined. I understand that a book should be read but I personally think that if you borrow a book and you return it in a state markedly worse than it was given to you in, you should buy them a new book. Am I the only one that thinks this way?
So I have a lovely new copy of Fingersmith. I think I might re-read it. I certainly won't be lending it out to anyone without writing my name in the front, and writing down who I have lent it to.
Next week I'll pop back to the op shop to find a top (I only have 3) and perhaps buy another book that I used to own.
These shops also have a book section, which I always visit, usually after the despondence of not being able to find a single top that I like or fits. The books won't let me down, I think as I run into my comfort zone (I actually HATE shopping for clothes) and inner sanctum. And they didn't. Gleaming at me was an almost brand new copy of Fingersmith by Sarah Waters, a fantastic book set in Victorian London with a lesbian slant with the characters. I LOVE this book and looking at it in all its shiny $3.50 glory, I picked it up and clutched it to my chest. "My precious"! I was excited as I had always liked this book since I read it, and now I would own it.
I got home. I looked at it, and from somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain, a little message was trying to get through. Finally it emerged.
I used to own this book.
I lent this book to a friend 3 years ago.
I still don't have it back.
It didn't worry me about this book, as I now own this book again, and my friend can keep it. However, it worried me that if I could forget that I once owned this book, how many other books remained separated from me.
Recently I have started writing my name in the front page of a book that I lend to people, but I have been burnt too many times now that I hardly ever lend my books out to people. I'll lend them to family or people that I know will look after them and that I see regularly.
HOW can people not use bookmarks and fold the corners over, or bend the front cover/ How can a book get that mauled?
When I was about 13 years old, I lent a 1000 page book to a friend of my mother's friends. I thought it would be in safe hands with an older, responsible lady. I, a 13 year old had read this book with just a couple of lines on the spine, so I figured it would be ok. She returned my book (that's a start I suppose), but it was so mauled and damaged that I still, 16 years later bring this story up to the chagrin of my parents who tell me to just get over it.
I couldn't. My book was ruined. I understand that a book should be read but I personally think that if you borrow a book and you return it in a state markedly worse than it was given to you in, you should buy them a new book. Am I the only one that thinks this way?
So I have a lovely new copy of Fingersmith. I think I might re-read it. I certainly won't be lending it out to anyone without writing my name in the front, and writing down who I have lent it to.
Next week I'll pop back to the op shop to find a top (I only have 3) and perhaps buy another book that I used to own.
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