strange things

Like Love. Love is a strange thing. Love is hard work (or is that just relationships?)...
And today I was surprised by how much B actually loves me. Shamed me, really, because I've been thinking so selfishly about wanting to stay here because it's good for me, without giving a hell of a lot of thought to how he feels.
I know he's not that keen on Perth. We've also talked about how I am the only person we know who can be happy at the sight of a green feather, let alone a whole parrot! Woo! But not everyone can find joy in everything, and not all the time. So, would I be willing to move to Melbourne? (I have well and truly crossed Budapest -and probably Europe altogether- off the list of places I would consider)- but I don't want to consider anywhere... I don't know if I'd be willing, and step heavy footed and blindfolded into uncertainty again.
I have increasing trouble loving the question. I can't fly by the seat of my pants anymore - partly because they drag me down- the seat of my pants grows larger by the day.
Could it be that I love myself just a little too much? But then, isn't this what I'm always preaching to Mum as well- that you have to love yourself first before you embark on love with anyone else. I don't know.
I'm not being very graceful in my writing tonight but it's been a day as heavy as a boulder. As murky as 2am in Wray avenue watching a white Pajero pull away from the kerb. As frightening as absynth and weed. Okay, clearly that Malaysian satay I had for dinner had some bad things in it...

Somehow I can't keep up with this 'online diary' with sufficient regularity. I should have spent weeks writing about how I got the job :) and how much I love going there, and how I look up to Dave and how I also think he's bloody fragile. How this is the nicest group of people I've ever worked with (Embassy friends notwithstanding, that's another category).

I should have written about how amazing it was when Mum was here for five weeks, and she understands about Perth and loves Freo as madly as I do. How she and Dad made friends again, and I am a girl with parents again. God, I love them.

I should have written about that night when Dale called, out of the blue late one night and just by accident i happened to have some good news to tell him, and he let me talk and talk, and then quietly he said "I don't want to rain on your parade" and then I knew. I sank into the chair and listened to him tell me how he'd talked to Kat's dad and asked his permission to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. How he had bought the ring and was going to pop the question up at Hotham. I am happy for them, but somewhere my heart still broke. And after I had handed the champagne over in Melbourne, and congratulated them I realised (for the 82nd time) that it's not Dale I want, but that security, that certainty. it's a beautiful thing.

I should have also written about the arrival of Ben, who came three weeks early, but perfectly timed. I only wish I could have been there, but I've seen him on screen and heard his sleep-whisperings.

But, i haven't written about all these things, and I don't have the time to pedal backwards.

It's a thick and emotional evening, I've worked pretty much non-stop for 12 hours (save for the adventure at the green grocer) and now I think I will take Ramona Koval (or at least her voice on the radio) into the shower and waste a little water. Just a little.

Oh and one more thing- Bizet, I know now, for a fact, is a beautiful genius. I saw the Pearl Fishers with Mum and Jeff, and it was so unmistakeably Bizet. So full of verve and oomph and tragedy.

-have also developed an unhealthy habit of wailing along to Neil Diamon when I'm in the car driving alone.... okay, don't even get me started on the car and how much I love it....