Yeah ... after writing yesterday, I did a three-month reading with my tarot cards (I'm actually falling in love with them, saaaaad) ... I think I was up until about 1, deciphering it all. It kept saying the same thing over and over and I wondered if all the cards were near each other in translations ... but nope, not so much. Basically, my cards talked about a lot of money coming my way, and focus/progression in my career, and someone moving out (and no love) ... I can see most of that. Except the money, of course. Remind me what that looks like again? (I jest, I frequently am responsible for up to £2000 in cash. I see it every day. I'm sick of Andrew Bailey's signature). But yeah, basically ... I think it was telling me to get over my hang-ups and send my stories off to agents.
So that wasn't good. And boy taking over an hour to eat an apple, almost falling asleep in the bowl but refusing to let my sister take him to bed hasn't helped tonight. And my feet have hurt all day, and now my back does ... and it's not over.
I need a mental health day. A day just for me, where I can do what I want, wii all I want, read and write and go to the cinema and walk in the park or lay in a forest, sunbathe at home ... or whatever. Boy pushing bedtime out like it isn't good for a happy mummy, because I can't even remember the last time I had a bath now ... quick shower tomorrow morning instead (that is, if my sister would stop hogging the damn bathroom when I need to use it) but it's not the same for aching limbs.
I got invited out clubbing tomorrow night too. I want to go, since I rarely go out, but I'm watching cash and have a driving lesson the next morning. I think hungover, I'd definitely crash.
But I will go see Eclipse on Friday (because Kellan Lutz and Jackson Rathbone are pretty yum, though Jackson loses man-points for having absolutely no butt) - I wanna go with a few people, but they don't like each other, so I have to pick my battles. I don't like you, battles. You suck.
I'm off to bed now. Once I've sorted out clothes for tomorrow. Meh.
Showing posts with label Jackson Rathbone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jackson Rathbone. Show all posts
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
Friday, 23 April 2010
My big wish
This is something I've been talking about since I was ten.
It changes a little, but the main picture is the same.
When I was a little girl (and reading Francine Pascal/Ann M Martin books) I decided I wanted to move to America. There were two girls at my school who'd moved from Michigan (their parents were working at the local car factory, which I think now just does tractors?) and another of my friends was moving to California about the same time these 2 Michiganites were moving back.
And I was jealous. I still am (Ida hated California, she sent long colourful letters saying so ... last I saw on Facebook, she went to Michigan State. So she didn't completely hate America). They were so different, even if they didn't seem that way. They fascinated me. One girl, Laura, I got on with better. I remember going to her house and having peanut butter on ritz crackers and homemade lemonade. She brought sugar cookies in for halloween in pumpkin shapes and I learned everything I know about the presidents and Thanksgiving and everything from her.
I had this grand plan. I was going to California (Not LA. Maybe Anaheim, maybe San Diego) and I'd meet some blonde haired muscled surfer guy and he'd be my boyfriend.
I've moved on since then, obviously. Muscles are gross. I prefer darker-haired guys (like Jake Gyllenhaal, Jackson Rathbone, Mark Ruffalo). Surfers are cool but I'd like him to have more going on.
And obviously, I'd need more going on than hanging around on a beach with no money or a job waiting for aforementioned surfer guy. And it doesn't have to be Cali. There's so much of America I want to see.
As it stands now - I wish my job would expand the trade-outs system it has. I could work in Hungary, or Norway, or even China if I wanted for a few months. America isn't included in the system (though our company started in America. I saw the state on some packaging the other day, but it's slipped my mind). So, this is my new grand plan:
-Train to be a teacher.
-Teach for a good couple of years.
-Apply for a transfer to an American school (for a year, for 5 years, ad infinitem)
-Get visa's sorted for me and the boy.
-Get boy into preschool/kindergarten/first grade.
-Live the American dream.
Alternatively my writing career could surprise me and take off and I'll move my millions over there, where I'll have a complex big enough for all my friends to drop in uninvited. We'll have a live in nanny, so don't worry about the boy.
I still wanna go there so bad. We go on holiday there every 12-18 months (and I try and go between times) and every time I'm there it's amazing and I love the food and the clothes and the weather and the way shop assistants say 'have a nice day' without sounding dumb and I hate, HATE getting the flight home. The only thing it has going for it is the take off. Time is different in America, the days have more potential, I can fit more in. I feel good out there, more carefree. I love the way the money works (yeah, a 40p candy bar over there costs a dollar and has a stupid name - every time I eat a dove I think of soap, not galaxy - but a £15000 car is $15000, so I can take the candy bar hit when it's $1.53 to a £1! Plus, in a slightly run down area of Orlando, on the way from our time share to Florida Mall, there are little houses that have $1 a day rent. And 24 hour day care ... this is the good thing about reading every word that comes under my nose).
The only thing is ... I'm scared to go over with no place to stay, no money, no job ... how would my tax credits work out? Would I lose them, and child benefit, and CSA? Does America have schemes like that for immigrants? I feel like beaurocracy keeps me here. That and my mother (I swear, she wishes we were italian so she'd have an excuse for wanting us all near).
But my Uncle did it. He moved to Melbourne, Australia. I would love to pick his brains on how he managed that ...
... if nothing else, when the boy moves off to uni, or for a gap year, I'm going to drive around America for as long a visa as I can get. I wanna hire an old pink Cadillac or a classic Chevy to do it in too.
It changes a little, but the main picture is the same.
When I was a little girl (and reading Francine Pascal/Ann M Martin books) I decided I wanted to move to America. There were two girls at my school who'd moved from Michigan (their parents were working at the local car factory, which I think now just does tractors?) and another of my friends was moving to California about the same time these 2 Michiganites were moving back.
And I was jealous. I still am (Ida hated California, she sent long colourful letters saying so ... last I saw on Facebook, she went to Michigan State. So she didn't completely hate America). They were so different, even if they didn't seem that way. They fascinated me. One girl, Laura, I got on with better. I remember going to her house and having peanut butter on ritz crackers and homemade lemonade. She brought sugar cookies in for halloween in pumpkin shapes and I learned everything I know about the presidents and Thanksgiving and everything from her.
I had this grand plan. I was going to California (Not LA. Maybe Anaheim, maybe San Diego) and I'd meet some blonde haired muscled surfer guy and he'd be my boyfriend.
I've moved on since then, obviously. Muscles are gross. I prefer darker-haired guys (like Jake Gyllenhaal, Jackson Rathbone, Mark Ruffalo). Surfers are cool but I'd like him to have more going on.
And obviously, I'd need more going on than hanging around on a beach with no money or a job waiting for aforementioned surfer guy. And it doesn't have to be Cali. There's so much of America I want to see.
As it stands now - I wish my job would expand the trade-outs system it has. I could work in Hungary, or Norway, or even China if I wanted for a few months. America isn't included in the system (though our company started in America. I saw the state on some packaging the other day, but it's slipped my mind). So, this is my new grand plan:
-Train to be a teacher.
-Teach for a good couple of years.
-Apply for a transfer to an American school (for a year, for 5 years, ad infinitem)
-Get visa's sorted for me and the boy.
-Get boy into preschool/kindergarten/first grade.
-Live the American dream.
Alternatively my writing career could surprise me and take off and I'll move my millions over there, where I'll have a complex big enough for all my friends to drop in uninvited. We'll have a live in nanny, so don't worry about the boy.
I still wanna go there so bad. We go on holiday there every 12-18 months (and I try and go between times) and every time I'm there it's amazing and I love the food and the clothes and the weather and the way shop assistants say 'have a nice day' without sounding dumb and I hate, HATE getting the flight home. The only thing it has going for it is the take off. Time is different in America, the days have more potential, I can fit more in. I feel good out there, more carefree. I love the way the money works (yeah, a 40p candy bar over there costs a dollar and has a stupid name - every time I eat a dove I think of soap, not galaxy - but a £15000 car is $15000, so I can take the candy bar hit when it's $1.53 to a £1! Plus, in a slightly run down area of Orlando, on the way from our time share to Florida Mall, there are little houses that have $1 a day rent. And 24 hour day care ... this is the good thing about reading every word that comes under my nose).
The only thing is ... I'm scared to go over with no place to stay, no money, no job ... how would my tax credits work out? Would I lose them, and child benefit, and CSA? Does America have schemes like that for immigrants? I feel like beaurocracy keeps me here. That and my mother (I swear, she wishes we were italian so she'd have an excuse for wanting us all near).
But my Uncle did it. He moved to Melbourne, Australia. I would love to pick his brains on how he managed that ...
... if nothing else, when the boy moves off to uni, or for a gap year, I'm going to drive around America for as long a visa as I can get. I wanna hire an old pink Cadillac or a classic Chevy to do it in too.
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