Mmm. Not sure if you grew up on that movie like I did, Blog, but I could repeat it scene by scene. So to make sense, the title has to be said with Yul Brenner's tone while conceding to Buddha to "give this woman...a house" (insert "Mrs. Anna" 's joyful face here). Anyway...
Houses. They've got me thinking (well, correction the perfect coffee just ingested and the backlog of SCOTS readings when crossbred with buying toaster yesterday and talking to friend about her impending housemove has me thinking. ABOUT houses. But details schmetails).
I can't cook particularly well. I can't. It's a fact. One I want to remedy but a fact none the less (although it's all perspective I spose. I've managed to feed myself and numerous others for years, so I spose I CAN cook, but Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver would likely frown at the presentation etc when it came to 'plating up'. (ohhh masterchef, what have you done to my brain? (wow, it's very early for brackets inside brackets inside brackets) ) ). And yet stores like House thrill me to pieces. Itty bitty domestic and tragically feminine pieces. My urge to nest is contrary to most other aspects of my personality, I think (irresponsibility and spontenaiety, being two that come to mind). But it's there. And drags me along on spending sprees re: jars and appliances and mugs and teapots, far too often.
If I wanted to get all oldschool psych on you, Blog, I'd suggest it was some kind of childhood of insecurities and feeling out of place, that drove me to be so thrilled everytime I migrated because it was another opportunity to make the blank ready-to-rent kitchen mine, to adorn bedrooms and living rooms with things that meant something to those dwelling there. To make cold open spaces cosy (with no talent whatsoever, don't get me wrong! I'm far from a skilled interior decorator. ). It's not even just the decoration though. The function matters also. Appliances that cook homely foods. Vacuums that clean my little world so nicely. A love of doing the dishes. It's all quite baffling.
So is the strange fact that the other night I had a dream that , in opposition to my assumption of the future, I wasn't working, I was childrearing. Since when was that my goal? Since when did I even WANT little rugrats running around my house-with-cat-and-rug ? Gotta love the dreams that jolt you into realising you're maybe not who you thought you were. Even thinking about it in daylight it makes a large amount of sense.
Are my twenties to blame for this? I don't know. I hope so. I hope it's that and not a sudden rush ( patriarchal society in a panic about it's downfall ? ) of subtle promotions re: women at home , that I've noted on tv, starting to get to me.
But at the moment, I actually see no problem with that. Combining work with it would of course be idea, but am definitely recognising that little developing-psychologically children (damn you subject, damn you for infiltrating my brain irreversibly) would likely have a similar effect to toasters. Re: the home / family / nest / world .. thing.
In the words of Alice.. curiouser and curiouser, that's for sure.
In other news though... It's sunday morning and 10am and I've already completed a fraction of the mountains of work to do today. And my ambition to make it slow, is well underway. I'm sitting here in baggy jeans and singlet by the 'fire' and have only stood up briefly thus far. It's peaceful. And interesting. And ... I don't know. I spose some might say I'm happy. Which is as disturbing as all the above. Because a lot of this is the direct and indirect result of the Boy. Sickening as it sounds, it's not JUST his presence and all the things he says and does, that is influencing my general life attitude. But it's also things he doesn't mean to do... he actually inspires me, makes me wise, makes me productive, makes me BETTER. why? how?! WHO CAN SAY :I but I like it. And therefore fear losing it. Which is a new thing. One I'm not a fan of.
But why dwell?
In other other news... I watched half an hour of that incredibly shit "Meteor" movie last night, instead of the years I've spent avoiding such horrific ideas. And instead of being sickened with fear, as the phobia of apocalypse would dictate, I just laughed and changed channels. So far from the Theresa who collapsed into tears with Swan in the middle of the quad at Queens due to being told that something was currently hurtling towards earth and was due in 2 days. My my..the times they are a'changin' ...
It's a bit scary to think I don't know where my mind will evolve to next :I but quite exciting. And turns out I have a fair bit of control over it afterall.....
Ah, life.
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