While doing some research on childrens fiction recently, I recalled one of my favourite books from my childhood, one that I still enjoy to this day. It’s called The Squealies by Joan Flanagan, and follows the adventures of a young boy and his very unusual family. It is essentially fantasy, but based in the real world, and what I loved most about it was how the author ignored the laws of common sense and liklihood and just embraced the absurdity of the scenrios she created.
Within the space of one afternoon, I had been struck by inspiration, and the outline for my own story began to solidify in my mind. Much like Joan Flanagan must have done, I am allowing my imagination to go to town here, rather than dismissing ideas that are just too “fun” to make sense of. The Squealies makes no apologies for colouring outside the lines, and its only now that I’ve realised that when it comes to childrens fiction, thats really the only way to work.
I am so excited by whats going on in my head at the moment, its hard to concentrate on work and study, but while I make notes and work out who my characters are and what motivates them, I will be eagerly awating the day I have time to sit down and bring this story to life.
After several days of anxiety and a moment or two on the verge of sheer panic, I got my blood test results back yesterday. I am not diabetic. I am not even pre-diabetic. This is fantastic news, and the relief I felt was phenomenal.
According to the test results my hormones are fine, my trace elements are all where they should be and even my cholesterol is OK (except my triglycerides are high, but duh, I’m a chub!). My blood sugars were really low, but thats mainly because it was a fasting blood test, and was to be expected.
My beautiful Russian Dr Katya has put me on several different medications though, including Metformin to help control my insulin resistance, as well as recommending I take massive doses of omega-3 on a daily basis, to assist my wellbeing.
In addition to the fistful of prescriptions, I was given 3 referrals… one to a dietician, to make sure I know how to control my energy levels and get those pesky triglycerides back where they should be; one to a sports physiologist, so I can learn to run again without aggravating my existing injuries; and one to the Black Dog Institute, and this is where the bad news starts.
Seems I have been fainting because I am stressed out of my gourd. I am literally worrying myself unconscious. This is fairly displeasing, because I honestly thought I was managing alright. The captain of my brainship however, seems to disagree.
Some time next week I will need to go and have a mood assessment with the friendly people in white coats and go from there. I already know what they are going to say, and in a way I feel like the last 12 months of my life have been leading me to this point. Its all very confronting and a little scary, but also brings more of those feelings of relief.
I need to do this, I need to stop pushing all the feelings aside and internalising the stress, because if I dont deal with it now, the next time my coping mechanisms fail, fainting will be the least of my worries.
There is this girl, who likes this boy, but they cant get their shit together to make it happen.
She is pushy, moody and tends towards aggressive behaviour, while he (from her perspective) is dealing with past hurts, and while he is outwardly confident and says the right things most of the time, he is more insecure than he is willing to admit.
In person they get along well, but dont really progress beyond chit chat. With the protective anonymity of the internet between them, they both open up more; a double edged sword that lets them not only share themselves more easily but also say things that hurt each other more readily than they would if they were there to see the tears fall.
The other problem lies in the lack of emotive expression when dealing with typed messages. When she lashes out, he cant see the fear in her eyes, and she cant reach out to touch him and reassure him that he is allowed to say whatever is on his mind without being judged. There is nothing technology can do to replace the unique little gestures and movements that help friends and lovers read each other moods and respond appropriately.
True friendship is gained only with the passing of time and through shared experiences. Can two people who have a reasonable amount in common and a comparable sense of humour really be friends if their face to face hours can be counted on one hand? Can literally thousands of emails really substitute for genuine conversation? And similarly, can webcams really be a surrogate for intimacy?
Its a well known fact that excitement of any kind (stimulated by sex, food, gambling, shopping etc) releases dopamine in the brain, which makes you crave a more of what you want. Once you have had your fill, prolactin floods your brain to neutralise the dopamine. There is a great article that explains the process better, but the gist of it is, once you get what you want, you dont want it anymore.
This is especially common with people who use porn. In a dopamine high, the most depraved and taboo thoughts and images can be the biggest turn on ever, but once the itch is scratched, those feelings of desire are replaced with feelings of revulsion, both for the object and for oneself.
If someone is attracted to a person who only exists in their world as an anonymous fetish object, its hardly surprising that after being gratified, their opinion of that person becomes confused. It can be hard to reconcile the now satisfied desire with any residual affection, especially when that person isn’t there to cuddle afterwards, to talk to while the brain chemicals settle down and emotional equilibrium is restored.
Tangent aside, the boy struggles with the “wtf am I doing?” conundrum on his own, while the girl is warmed by the shared experience, and when his internal conflicts are unable to be resolved he does the only thing he can think to do - he shuts off. He doesn’t want to feel this way, and he doesn’t want her to either. What he doesn’t realise is that while he experiences guilt, she doesn’t. In fact, if anything, for her it is the opposite. She is amazed at the trust shown and it only makes her want it more.
After being shot down, time passes in which the two dont talk. When enough time has passed, she send him a message to let him know he’s still on her mind, that despite his habit of pushing her away, she isn’t going anywhere. Soon enough things are back to normal. They dont talk about what has happened emotionally, because despite the fact that they have been lovers in their minds, in reality they are still almost total strangers, pen pals at best.
While she is looking for the Holy Trinity (best friend, boyfriend, lover) in one person, she suspects he has obstacles to overcome before he can consider even a single proper date. So she does what she can - she tells him what she wants, and when he asks “avec moi?” she says “oui”, because even though it may come to nothing, at least she knows that he knows.
This afternoon, as I was walking home from work, your mother called me. She had some news that she thought I would get a kick out of. Just moments earlier, you had picked up her mobile phone, turned it around so the screen was facing away from you, held it out as far as your arm would allow and said “Photo! Photo! Auntie Manda!”.
Your mother was right, not only did I get a kick out of this news, it brightened up my entire day and inspired me to write something other than my ill-fated and terminally plot-blocked NaNoWriMo project.
Though I doubt you are aware of this, you are only 19 months old. Since a few days after your birth I have made a habit of taking pictures of us together on my Blackberry - you on my lap or in a headlock to prevent you running away, me with my arm outstretched to get the best possible angle - and although its taken you a while to get used to this ritual, you now seem to enjoy it, to the extent that you actually climb on my lap to pose, bring my Blackberry to me when I ask, and now, it seems, attempt to duplicate the process even when I am not around.
You love my Blackberry, and sometimes refuse to give it back to me when I need it. You also love the TV remote control, the computer mouse, and more recently, my new camera. When I upgraded from my old Fuji FinePix 5500 to the universally delicious Canon EOS 500D, I pondered selling it on eBay, but decided to gift it to your father (my little brother) instead. As I secretly expected, you immediately claimed it as your own, despite the fact that it is way too big for your tiny hands, and you have no idea how to remove the lens cap let alone adjust the aperture. But you love it anyway, and walk around with it hanging heavy and enormous around your neck, bringing me and everyone else no end of amusement.
Only a month or so ago your mother told me you she had noticed you favouring your left hand to colour in with, to eat with, to hit people with. Yet another thing that had me punching the air in triumph, humming the tune to Eye Of The Tiger! You’re blonde like me, you love pigtails like me, you’re a lefty like me, and now you have adopted my compulsion for taking photos.
Once, when you were about 12 months old, I didnt see you for several weeks. When I finally had a chance to come visit, you refused to hug me and cried when I picked you up. You had forgotten me, after barely 4 weeks, and my heart was broken. Since then, there has rarely been a month where I havent seen you at least once, and more often than not I spend several hours with you each fortnight.
Six weeks ago, I had an accident and wrote off my car. Since then, I have seen you on only one occasion. While I miss seeing my friends, and I miss the freedom that accompanies motor vehicle ownership, more than anything, I miss you. I love hanging out with you, despite the fact that you are a lack-lustre conversationalist, and are also fairly demanding when it comes to matters of toys, books, food… pretty much everything. I dont mind though, because you child, are quite possibly my favourite person in the entire world.
For reasons relating to my health, my state of mind, and the recent dissolution of my marriage, I’m not sure I will ever have children of my own. This doesn’t worry me however, because I have you. I am by no means minimising the love I have for your brother Nathanael, but c’mon, he’s only12 weeks old and despite being gorgeous is yet to do anything to impress me! You however, are my minikin. We are so alike, I can see that already, and I want you to know that no matter what happens, how many siblings you end up with, or cousins for that matter, you will always be my favourite First Born Niece™ and I will always be here for you.
