This year has started ... well, the year has started. I have had shiny days full of quiet sparkle and gratitude, and then days like today, when by the end of it, I just want oblivion in sleep. Except sleep has been elusive lately...and not always for good reasons.

I have been looking for apartments, ignorant of the glaring fact that B is still in our 'home' and I am still guilty enough to keep forking out for it. Pete, Betty and M sat around the table at the pool and berated me - in the gentlest way they could - and told me that it's time to move on this decisively.
I'm trying, and I'm so tired of being a 'nyuszi' - a wuss rabbit who is scared to speak her mind. And then one day, after too much whisky I will just explode and say things I'll regret for a long time.

So that's what I started to write last night. This morning, all rabbity traces are gone. I parked the car at the apartment, and lo and behold who walks out of my apartment, looking for all the world as though she were at home - why it was Balint's ladyfriend. And she was the straw that broke this camel's back. The same way it was Damien Rice that did it with Sacha.
Tomorrow is the last day I pay the rent. From there on in, it's no longer my responsibility. No more Mr Nice Guy. I felt wooooo charged up with assertive power. I've written the email, had it checked by Pete (I think he's feeling pretty proud of me today) and sent it. I'm nervous, of course I'm bloody nervous, but enough is enough.

The other big thing that happened yesterday was my bidding farewell (and christ it was teary) to the best Little Car this side of the black stump. Seeing what I had done to it again was pretty awful, but a lesson has been learned.

The apartment search continues apace... with little success thusfar, but I'm not giving up. I'm geographically certain of "home", now I just have to find an abode to complete the picture. Either that or pitch a tent on Monument Hill...

the indistinct rustle of the radio filters down the too-long hallway to the bedroom, where I am lying in the gathering heat, wondering what words I can find to fit the start of what promises to be a good year. Better than the last in any case.

If I had to sum up 2009 I would use words like work and compromise. I don't regret any of it, but I never expected it to be so hard. To build up another little existence, my banana coloured bubble in this corner of the world. I didn't think it would be this hard because I thought B and I were on the same page in terms of what and how we wanted to build. Alas, naivete on two legs strikes again, and for all the name calling and silent arguments I can accept being selfish if it means being able to look in the mirror without flinching.

I know what I want - maybe it won't happen this year, but I won't settle for less just because I'm getting older. I also know what I'm capable of giving, and how much pleasure I get from that giving. The pleasure comes from knowing that I am not being taken for granted, that what I do is not expected, but appreciated.

I want to keep playing, without the false sternness (word?) of adulthood peering over my shoulder. I have loved the last few days - this has been the best Christmas season I can remember. I have had beautiful company - people that made me feel alive, and worthy and special. Happiness.

Today will be 39 degrees, I am borrowing Zoli's camry while my injured little car is in the hospital (possibly the most expensive fucking hospital ever), and in two days I will be driving down to Bremer Bay with Sandy, Paul and kids. Life is good, I must never forget that.

Hugging Ross and Mel - arguably some of the best huggers in Australia - and hearing them say again how much they miss me, how like the old Anna I am again - I know for certain I have found my place. Building the nest may take a little longer than I expected or hoped, but I've got time.

So now, with a cold slice of rockmelon, I am going up to the balcony, to look at my cranes, and complete some more elementary sketches.

Happy new year.

. . .