Blah blah blah

* I sold my car.
Billie the Shoebox has been handed over to a 17 year old. He is being loved and cut & polished to within an inch of his life, and looks like a new car. Meanwhile, I am carless. De-car-ed. For the first time since I was a teenager. I walk to work. I walk to the markets. I get the bus, or taxi, or train, to where I need to go. I cancelled my car insurance today. It was a nice moment.

* I got my motorbike learner’s licence.
Much to my mother’s horror. I promise, Ma, I have even less interest in hurting myself or dying than you do. Promise.

* I realised my boss wants me to stay and thinks I might leave. Thinks I could walk into a job at a higher level. And is prepared to try to keep me.
How odd. I don’t think I’m a bad worker but I’m pretty sure I’m replaceable. Here’s hoping my boss doesn’t realise that any time soon. Weirdly, it’s this more than anything else that has made me want to stay.

* A crush was born, and it died, and no-one noticed except for me and the poor bastards I whinged to about it.
This is why I am single; this chronic inability to act, 素直になれない. Or as K says, because I’m so good at talking myself out of things. At its height, my hands shook after I talked to him. How is it that I can be confident in my work, in my life in general, but when it comes to attraction, I’m suddenly all I carried a watermelon? Gah. It’s been a while since I was this interested in someone else’s story. Did I tell him that? No. Because I am the world’s biggest fraidycat. But today there was a moment where I realised he wasn’t interested in my story. All evidence to: he thinks I’m a twit. Ah well. Fish, sea, something or other (but I wanted that fish…).

* A weekend ahead to fill up my heart.
Did you know? I am surrounded by the most incredible people. Some of them are in Brisbane, some of them are scattered across the country. Tomorrow, after a morning spent with two of my most favorite people in the world, I’ll fly south to bask in the varied presences of some other top folks. And I’ll be all, “romantic love is shit, it’s all about your friends.” And it will be true.