My puppy

I played at the Majors Creek folk festival last year (in 2009, that's weird) for the second year in a row. We had an amazing crowd on the Saturday night. We were the last band to play on the main stage and we had a crazy dancing audience which drove us to play as fast as we could. I really enjoyed it. If I can work out how, here's a picture or two of the crowd (for they're far more exciting than us on the stage). I enjoyed playing. It had been a while.

When I got home I found out we were getting a puppy. To tell you the truth, I didn't think we deserved a new dog. Our last one died from rat bait. I think that makes us bad owners. I blame my parents for leaving it where they did. I also blame myself for jinxing the poor dog a week before it happened. I told my parents the dog would eat it. They said I was silly. Then she died.

So the latest addition to our family is Bella. (I'm not a twilight fan,

but I'm aware of the connotations. As a result, I tried to get the name Ninja to catch on for a while, but then stopped because I thought it might confuse the poor dear.)

So this was Bella when we first got her. She is a toy poodle,

and she was the tiniest and cutest thing I'd ever seen.

The first time Bella and I spent any time apart, disaster struck. My sister's kid, so the story goes, threw my poor baby off of my brother's deck. Why his parents didn't think he didn't need to be watched, I do not know. My folks were out and the parents delivered a massive fail. But it's ok. I will never leave her again. She is now my puppy.

She has a fracture, so she's in a cast. She's had two so far, and will have them for another 3 weeks or so. She's grown. But she's still so cute. She's so well behaved and coping really well with having a cast on. She's on massive amounts of pain killers, my poor baby, but she's mending well.

Recovery, Part 2

Life appears to have returned to normal. Life is filled with the same things as before. Some things have changed, but all in all it is balancing itself out. Love has increased. Hate has increased. So they are still in equal proportions as before. Is it impossible to love something more without then liking something else even a little less? Do they go hand in hand, or is it purely coincidental?

When I got out of hospital I was more sure than ever I was on the right course. I didn't doubt myself, or those around me. It's funny how people can say one thing, planting a seed without even realising it, and then you start to doubt. This doubt is harder than any I've had before. I don't doubt myself; I'm more sure than I ever was. I know who I am and how I feel.

It was scary enough before; having just put myself out there. But my words were met in kind, and the world was falling into place. Now my words are still met in kind - but there's something else there, too.

So what am I to do? Do I carry on, and wait until one day you seem to definitively decide you'll stay or go - in a convincing fashion? Or do I drag you to that point now - and risk pushing you either way?

Recovery, Part 1

I feel the need to write. My life has changed. It's different. But it's still exactly the same. I'm still lost. I still have no direction. I still have choices to make. I'm still confused. Indifferent. Vague. Scared.

But I'm not scared. I had a tumour. It's gone now. It might come back. I'll deal with that then. Now I'm dealing with my recovery. It's slow and it's hard. It's frustrating. Not being able to do simple things. Like get out of bed by myself. Not being able to lie down by myself. Having to sit in the same position every day. Not being able to stand up straight. Not being able to walk more than 200 metres at a time. Not being able to sleep. Some times being unable to bring myself to eat anything. Do anything.

But it's still better now than it was before. I was scared I wouldn't wake up. I was scared of waking up after. The pain. I'd never been to hospital before. Now I've had major surgery.
I got through it. It was easier than I thought it would be. Physically. Emotionally, it was harder than I thought it would be. I'm willing time to move faster - begging it to fly by. I want... I want to do more than sitting at home day after day. I want to feel useful.

Comfort.

I forgot to mention.

I'm trying to think of ways to describe how I feel right now.
I'm freaking out, I'm stressing and I have a million things to do.
At the same time I'm happy. I have something I'm almost sure I won't lose, but at the same time you worry every now and then that it might slip away and you'll have no power with which to keep it from doing so.

All these things running through my head. But still, one overriding thought... At least it's a good one.

Anyway. I think for now, the way I feel is best described by the following picture.
I don't know which one I am, but I know it doesn't matter.

Soldiering on

I haven't written in a long time. I haven't sat down and let my thoughts take me on a bit of a journey. A thoughtless journey, but all the same I haven't let my mind wonder free for quite some time.

Truth be told, I don't have an outlet to do so any more. I used to have a few, but I left them all.

Now my mind feels cluttered. It's filled with so much junk. Some of it I need to function, but the rest... The rest is taking up space. The thoughts I do need don't have enough room to roam free! I need my space back.

The question is: How?

Tomorrow

It all worked out in the end. Apparently. What an odd feeling. I don't know what to make of it. I don't know if I deserved it... And I'm wondering whether it really matters in the end. What matters is what I make of it now that I've managed to make it to this point.

I want the same things as I did at this time last year. Only now I have more to lose. Which would be silly. I'm so much closer to getting where I want to be... But that's good. I feel like it's actually achievable. And I still want it.

This is good.

Take the power back?

Ever feel so small you want to die?

So petrified of what is coming that you don't know what to do?

So terrified that you're about to fail, which breaks your heart. But even worse is the punishment to be dished out by someone that should just there to support you?

So ready to move on and take control, but so incapable of doing so?

It breaks my heart even more. I feel so useless. And so helpless.

So pathetic.