One Stumble Does Not End The Journey

Hope you have a great one Christian...

"No smoking"

xTom

No smoking thus far.

Didn't even smoke in front of M and L last night, although I did feel somewhat deceitful about that. Never the less, I didn't even want one, so it's all negated anyways.

You have a lovely day too.

christian

Yay for you!

One stumble does not end the journey!

Looking at doing my placement for social work at Vic AIDS council...

xTom

I've had two, thus far.

christian

I'll be writing over Easter, you can be assured of that, even if it kills me, which at the moment, it feels like it will. Blood from a stone, mate. Blood from a stone. But I've organised for dinner with me best writing mate Kym, next Wednesday and I have promised her stories, so now I gotta produce them. It's funny how my modes operandi is to promise things so as to force myself to produce. It's something I've realised lately that I do, to stop my natural laziness.

I'm bike riding over the chocolate festival instead of eggs. Four mornings of peddly-treddly around the bike tracks, over to my mum's for breakky and then back home. It did so lighten her sorry tone when I suggested it. Me poor old mum, she used to be such an independent lassie and now the neediness in her voice is palpable. It does fair break my heart, sometimes.

And now that I have said I will, I supposed I have got too. But it's a good thing, kind of locking me in, so as not to let my natural procrastinating, hermit-like propensity get the better of me.

I've got to shed these extra pesky kilos, forthwith. I was so slim and gorgeous – not in a egotistical way, you understand – when I was in Sydney last year, eating just food with dirt still stuck to it and jogging three times a week. But how does one replace the harbour for inspiration in ye olde worldie Melbourne, I ask you?

Four mornings in a row on the bike is going to test me sweet little arse, the legs usually manage okay. I’ll be shrieking like a girl that fourth morning the seat goes up my crack.

I just can't kick this wretched smoking habit. I'd quit for 10 days, count them, one two... and so on and so forth and I all I could feel was a constant gnawing at me guts, as it expanded by a few kilos to fill my pants. (And not in a good way, let me tell you) And me myself have been building up to pounding the footpath because of it. I used to love jogging, nothing quite beats that both-feet-off-the-ground feeling of freedom that it gives you. Skimming along in mid air, wind in your hair, stroke, stroke, stroke. Nothing can beat me now! Ha, ha! I am the king of the world! Although, I haven't done it yet, you understand.

That is not exactly true, actually. I did jog last weekend up at Bolago, first time for in a year and I felt 102 years old as I pant, panted along. But the gum trees were beautiful and only one recalcitrant Wallaby snickered.

M and L fly in to Hamburg this weekend, then Berlin, Amsterdam, London, Eurostar to Paris then it's off to God's own country and the remaining weeks in Italy.

It's funny that I feel somewhat free to do as I please with them out of the country, which makes no sense at all, I'll grant you, all at the same time feeling as though I'll miss them terribly, but there you go.

Time just for me... I don't mean that in a nasty desperate sense at all, just a whimsical thought, me here all alone in this big country without them. Does that make any sense?

I do have a half Italian/half Australia, cute as a button, boy who is just begging to be stooped vigorously. Jamie T. I've never known a bad Jamie, panting around the edges. But Manny now says that he'd be upset if I roved, despite him having a rather odd relationship happening concurrently with Glen.

So I shan't be visiting with Jamie of the delectable arse... well, I don't think I will. Or the 20 year old Lebo boy, who goes by the handle of Wog Nuts on the internet, who also wants to come and visit. Maybe late one night, when nobody could possibly know. Is that bad?

Actually, I still feel quite loyal to Manny, so probably I wont. Although, it is tempting. Wog Nuts, or Johnny as he's really called (And I've never known a bad Johnny) also has those favourite words in his profile, large and uncut. Slobber, pant!

But as Manny is now panting for it, perhaps I should be off. It always falls upon me to get us together for conjugal visits.

First, I should put my all good thoughts into action and go jogging for an hour. Sometimes I've just got to clear my head and move forward without another thought creeping in to stop me. Blind action, I think that's what I'm going to call it.

Tom was on Gaydar, yet again, so I sent him this message.

“Get off here miss and write something, for goodness sake.”

And then I got off, hit and run, so to speak.

I went to Manny’s

When I got back Tom had left me this message, in return.

“I’ve already written and sent my placement proposal to VAC thanks very much for your concern missy! Why don’t you follow your own advice!! “

So I sent him this message in return.

“A little snippy, what? If you noticed, I did follow my own advice.”

I’ve just spoken to Luke, he’s packing for tomorrow.

Now I’m going to iron a shirt and go to bed.