One shade the more, one ray the less.
I had some smashing update typed before LiveJournal decided to eat it. I am inclined to dig my fingernails into something or perhaps even scratch them across a chalkboard, or dig them into the goat that seems to be the antichrist.
Anyhow. I'm in New York. This is home. Home isn't a place. I can't make home my flat in London or Sydney, you can't make a place home. Home is truly where the heart is, and perhaps that's the beauty of it. Home can change several times in a lifetime, you have to let yourself go, let yourself take risks, let yourself love. Two days ago, I would never have spoken these words. I feel rejuvenated now, refreshed, content, happy. I didn't expect to feel this way again, but sometimes, if we are very fortunate, we are rewarded with a second chance.
My cheeky wanker who was downgraded to an appalling wanker has now been upgraded to a cheeky wanker again. Two days ago I didn't want to see his face again. Today I can't see enough of him. I didn't tell him I was coming to New York. I told him I would consider it, I didn't mention when. I boarded Drea's jet that he was most polite enough to allow me to use, and I came to New York unannounced. Only Maggie knew I was coming, and she sent a spare key to the airport. I was waiting at Jake's flat when he arrived back from dinner. I know I surprised him. I don't know if he thought he was drunk and hallucinating or dreaming, but the look on his face was most priceless. Most priceless perhaps was the twenty seconds when he pinned me against the wall before I decided to make the most of our very compromising position.
No, I didn't take him by the hand and drag him back to the bedroom, I made him dance with me, cliche and overworn as that sounds. Do each and every one of you really realise how much you take for granted each day? The way a person looks at you, kisses you, brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, says your name? The way your siblings are looking out for you in the worst times and you may have a few moments where you want to bloody murder them, but in the end, it's only in the name of love? The way your best friends write bad poetry that isn't really bad, and want to be your platonic wives right now?
I don't think I'll be taking any of those things for granted for awhile. Maybe through this entire catastrophe, I've learned to value things a little more. I wanted to stop believing in love, but I'm most fortunate that a few people wouldn't let me. I'm fortunate for my sister, who's always watching, no matter what (she makes kick-arse icons as well, *cough*), my Maggie (how did I ever live without you?), my Kristin, and so many others.
I was thinking about home tonight. Is home a place, or can you take the lass out of a home and still have a home? I think I have several different homes. I wouldn't be able to leave London because of my Kylie, my job, my Duncan, my Adam, my Keira, and my Gareth, I wouldn't ever be able to forsake the States because of my cheeky wanker and my Maggie, and then there's Canada, with my good bad poet.
If someone asked me to choose one, I couldn't. I'll live life as a nomad or vagabond and be happiest. I'll globe trek my whole life to keep everyone happy if I have to.
Plans for the week: some Warped Tour or other tomorrow, lunch or dinner or both and shopping with Madde on Thursday, the rest of the day for my cheeky wanker, and from there to eternity with my cheeky wanker. He's just kidnapping me for awhile. If you want to reach me, you'll have to take it up with him. Don't look at Jake's icons, by the way. He's awful.
Anyhow. I'm in New York. This is home. Home isn't a place. I can't make home my flat in London or Sydney, you can't make a place home. Home is truly where the heart is, and perhaps that's the beauty of it. Home can change several times in a lifetime, you have to let yourself go, let yourself take risks, let yourself love. Two days ago, I would never have spoken these words. I feel rejuvenated now, refreshed, content, happy. I didn't expect to feel this way again, but sometimes, if we are very fortunate, we are rewarded with a second chance.
My cheeky wanker who was downgraded to an appalling wanker has now been upgraded to a cheeky wanker again. Two days ago I didn't want to see his face again. Today I can't see enough of him. I didn't tell him I was coming to New York. I told him I would consider it, I didn't mention when. I boarded Drea's jet that he was most polite enough to allow me to use, and I came to New York unannounced. Only Maggie knew I was coming, and she sent a spare key to the airport. I was waiting at Jake's flat when he arrived back from dinner. I know I surprised him. I don't know if he thought he was drunk and hallucinating or dreaming, but the look on his face was most priceless. Most priceless perhaps was the twenty seconds when he pinned me against the wall before I decided to make the most of our very compromising position.
No, I didn't take him by the hand and drag him back to the bedroom, I made him dance with me, cliche and overworn as that sounds. Do each and every one of you really realise how much you take for granted each day? The way a person looks at you, kisses you, brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, says your name? The way your siblings are looking out for you in the worst times and you may have a few moments where you want to bloody murder them, but in the end, it's only in the name of love? The way your best friends write bad poetry that isn't really bad, and want to be your platonic wives right now?
I don't think I'll be taking any of those things for granted for awhile. Maybe through this entire catastrophe, I've learned to value things a little more. I wanted to stop believing in love, but I'm most fortunate that a few people wouldn't let me. I'm fortunate for my sister, who's always watching, no matter what (she makes kick-arse icons as well, *cough*), my Maggie (how did I ever live without you?), my Kristin, and so many others.
I was thinking about home tonight. Is home a place, or can you take the lass out of a home and still have a home? I think I have several different homes. I wouldn't be able to leave London because of my Kylie, my job, my Duncan, my Adam, my Keira, and my Gareth, I wouldn't ever be able to forsake the States because of my cheeky wanker and my Maggie, and then there's Canada, with my good bad poet.
If someone asked me to choose one, I couldn't. I'll live life as a nomad or vagabond and be happiest. I'll globe trek my whole life to keep everyone happy if I have to.
Plans for the week: some Warped Tour or other tomorrow, lunch or dinner or both and shopping with Madde on Thursday, the rest of the day for my cheeky wanker, and from there to eternity with my cheeky wanker. He's just kidnapping me for awhile. If you want to reach me, you'll have to take it up with him. Don't look at Jake's icons, by the way. He's awful.