Nesting

It was Valentine's yesterday and had someone hadn't reminded me, I wouldn't have remembered and I think that's the way I like it. For me, there shouldn't be one designated day to make an effort to show someone you love them...it should be apparent in the relationship everyday. And there are so many little things that happen in my world to know that I am loved and not just by my partner but by my friends and family too.

The past couple of weeks Lo and I have been trying to build up our home. It's old and has some querks but we're slowly starting to work with them - there are times of course when I long for that Victorian with the wooden floors, original fireplaces and high ceilings - I think I always will until I have it (it will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine...) but I am lucky and count myself so every day. I have a space now to fill with small things to keep me feeling like I'm at home for the next year. It's been tough, I must say, things aren't easy to get in Bali, not in the slightest! Something pretty is always out of budget and if you really want something unique, you have to haggle your arse off for it and everything else, the simple things like a butter knife or a colander just don't seem to exist...they are seriously two things on my mission list to find.

And when you do find what you want and cannot carry it home, the delivery charge is the same price as the item. But through blood, sweat and tears, Lo and I have managed to find just a few simple pieces to get our place feeling like home and one thing in particular, that I loved the minute I saw it, is this painting that we found in Ubud (nic-nac heaven for artsy/hippy/New Age people)


And how I knew I was truly loved in that moment? Loic spotted it first, said nothing out loud but thought to himself 'that painting is so my Stephanie and she's going to love it when she sees it' - and I really did! He saw my eyes light up and then haggled the artist for it. And when we got it home and hung it up and put the other little bits and pieces together we'd bought in Ubud, we stood back and looked at the room, it's now looking a bit more us.

Loic knows how much I love property and interior design and trusts me completely to pick things out for the house, I put as much love into putting together a room as I do into my relationships - every little thoughtful detail matters. And although this is just a temporary home, it's a project I've been longing for, for absolute years. I've moved house way too many times and have painfully watched my stuff get packed into people's attics and garages far too often, all I ever wanted was to nest. I get giddy when a new series of Location, Location, Location comes on, Kirstie Allsop is my domestic idol and I think I squealed through most of her C4 series Kirstie's Homemade Home. I used to get kicks out of walking around Habitat, Next Home, Ikea and anywhere else that sells homewares and Ideal Homes magazine is my porn. I've mentally decorated so many times that my fantasy world isn't a Disney fairytale or a snapshot of a peaceful tropical beach, it's a room of bespoke furniture, colours, fabrics, art, wooden pieces, handmade rugs, stained glass, bookcases, antique lamps and handmade crafts. The only thing missing is some beautiful cake recipes for me to try out (another way I nest and present my love to others is to bake) but we don't have an oven - another item that is a rarity in Bali. But we have to make sacrifices, of course.

And so, aside from trying to create a cheap domestic Nirvana, I have been adoring my time with Lo. And when my heart aches a little from missing my family, my friends and my dearest, dearest Rocky boy, he soothes it with the palm of his hand and tells me that he knows how hard this all is for me. Another reason why I'm so lucky. And although I can't invite any of you around for a cup of tea and a chat, I know that this is a building block to our next home back in Europe where I sometimes long to be again to receive that love that you all send my way, in person and not just through email, Facebook or Skype. But I'm sending it to you and I hope you can feel that as you are always in my thoughts, everyday, and not just one. I don't need St. Valentine to remind me what love is.

I've Become a Sleepy House Cat

Yawwwwwn. The past few days, I haven't seemed to break out of the habit of having daytime naps. Although these naps have turned into three to four hour long sleeps. And I'm sleeping again at night too! I expressed this guilty habit to my boyfriend and I suggested that it's either due to extreme tiredness (clocked up over the last few very busy months), laziness (I'm more reluctant to admit this one) or boredom. Lo put it down to boredom. Our new house is still missing some furniture and I really do think it'll make a difference once there's a living room set up so that I'm not horizontal for most the day. The living room gets the best light in the house too so I think I'd feel a lot more energised if I was being soaked in sunshine while sat upright to write and read and get the other things done that my brain is nagging me to do.

Lo has been working late lots this week and worries that I'm feeling a bit imprisoned. I'm not, I have just succumbed to the stagnant energy in the house. It needs brightening up a bit and so do I. No more of this flopping about hazily on the bed.

The other solution is a bike to go out on. I wanna be a girl about town, riding to the bakery, the beach or just out having a bit of a cruise. I don't think I'll really feel like I'm living in Bali until I'm independently going about my day so this evening, my beau Lo and I are going out to get one. I'm a little anxious though, I haven't ridden a bike properly since I was about 13 so it's going to take a while before I venture far and confidently.

But at least I've had plenty of net time to stay connected, do research and get inspired. I've come across a few blogs to keep me ticking over like Retrogasm where awesome retro pictures like this are posted:


And The Final Sentence, a blog dedicated to compiling final sentences of great literature which I think is a fantastic idea and sometimes I'll read one and think 'wow what a bloomin' good ending to a book!' you'd think it would spoil wanting to read the rest of the novel, but for me, if it's a beautiful ending then the rest of the book must be beautiful too...

This Amazing Planet does what it says on the tin. It's a blog that posts breathtaking photos by various photographers of the most stunning locations on Earth (like these below)...it really is visual joy.


For more silly entertainment I've been following Nightmares and Boners, a blog written by a twenty-something chic who lives in East London and writes (quite openly and comically) about the mishaps of her relationships and sex life. It's just good for a chuckle and some light anecdotal amusement.

And while I was looking for pictures of sleeping cats (and there are thousands - each so bloody adorable) I came across one of the most hilarious blogs I've ever seen: Barely Feral. Someone has posed themselves the question: "what if there was a porn site designed by cats for cats?" and has come up with this gem. Just...take a look...it's brilliant.

Ah, the things I do with my spare time...

New Digs and Crazy Dreams

image from We Heart it

I am now an expat. A weird thought indeed; and before I left the UK in September, I don't think that was a word I ever used before. But I'm in Bali now, after a stint around the world and a month at home, I've got me a new place and a box full of exciting opportunities.

London, I love you and I miss you for a few things: you've got my best friends and my family and you've got those favourite spots I sometimes went to whenever I wanted to leave the house. All I needed was the Oyster fare and I could immerse myself in history, art and esoterism - and if I had extra change for a coffee well then that would just make my day.

But I had to leave you, you see there was more for me out there - there is more for me. And to not miss you at all, I have to think of the things that annoy me the most about you: the biting cold, the shoulder-barges and tuts on a crowded and uncomfortable tube journey; the outrageous prices of decent food in the supermarket and the shoebox flats that you insist people should pay most a months' wages on. But one day I'll come back and it won't be too far off - even if it is just to go back in time and sit in The Bedford in Balham, my family kitchen in Polards Hill, the mini-haven in The Cloisters, The Penderals Oak in Holborn and The Starbucks in Victoria Station because it is these places where I find time again and spend love on my favourite people.

But things will be different for a year and I've been given time and love to spend with one very special person in this tropical territory and a house to get my itchy, decorator hands on. These delicious, brand new things in my life have seemed like a dream and I never want to wake up from it when I'm looking into green/amber eyes on the pillow next to mine. And although bedtime for me has been the stuff of lullabies, when I've slipped into sleep, I've had crazy and awful dreams.

Reality and dreams flipped? Or a need to clear some unwanted energy?

The first day in our new house, I wafted a Banishing incense stick around every room in the house and swept but I can't help but feel that it needs more to transmute the energy - oh to have a singing bowl and my Goddesses to help raise the vibration. But I'm going to have to come up with something because, either there are some deeper issues in my psyche that are showing themselves in my slumber or there are influences coming through the veil from times past in this place. I love my new home and I'm never uncomfortable but last night I woke up after what felt like hours of anxiety dreams. A narrated (and very vividly so) thriller story that at first felt like fiction but then had me throw my eyes open with an intense case of goosebumps and then a panicked dream about getting to my cat whom I'd left with a friend but could never seem to catch the bus I needed to get on to reach him - ok, so the last one maybe a little closer to home.

So tonight I ask the Moon to bring me a dreamless sleep because I don't need them in the night. The morning brings me the most wonderful vision of a glorious future reflected back at me by those green/amber eyes on the pillow next to mine.

Journeys

On Friday night I went to see the play "Journey's End" in the Duke of York Theatre. As my friend and I waited for the production to begin, I got this shot of the stage. The curtain was printed with the iconic World War 1 "Your country needs you" poster.

The play was sensational and every single actor was stunning at their role. The set was dimly lit and intimate, allowing the audience to observe this Dugout from just the right distance. Just like with any war film/novel/poem/memorial etc this play got me a little choked up and damp in the eyes.

Then I thought about this phrase again: "Your country needs you"...no, it doesn't. The world does. As I prepare for my three and a half month trip across the globe, all I can think about is the Native Americans that I am to be helping out as a volunteer. They need a spare pair of hands and I really need them. I'll be leaving behind a post-riot London and the rise of rail tickets and all the other depressing things I've seen sailing through the media lately and quite frankly, this trip couldn't come any sooner.

But before I go, I am making sure to spend as much time with nicer parts of my city as I can and all the people that I love who are in it. Besides checking out The Museum of Broken Relationships and going to see "Journey's End" on Friday night, I enjoyed my Saturday at a baby shower (hosted by rocker mums) during the day and then teamed up with the South African lot in the evening for a few rums and a Jager Bomb. After a shot, scuzzy old Intrepid Fox doesn't look so scuzzy.

And so, with my plane tickets and a couple of hostels booked, the egg-timer has been turned and it's a mad dash from here on out to get the lists ticked off.

Before the last grain drops I'll be going to a pub quiz, a hen night, a wedding, a birthday dinner, my work leaving do and then finally I'll be getting all my favourite faces together one last time to toast me 'bon voyage'. I get the feeling that getting a little choked up and damp in the eyes will be quite a common occurence in the next few weeks.

Twisted Air

Feeling like the raven hours of the night

The air twists around her

It spirals towards a familiar

But confuses them both

What she receives is distorted

A thousand snakes over sound

Vibrate and shake her for a feeling

Pulsate until she reacts

She wants to exist in several worlds

But none can contain her anymore

So she stays, writhing

With the snakes, the sound and the twisted air

Feeling like the raven hours of the night

Until she knows what she is

To him, to her and to you

(image from we ♥ it)

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

It's All in Those Moments

On the train home today, I was reading Writing Begins with a Breath; a book that I bought after having a good old sulk about my disconnection from my writing relationship. We've been involved for seventeen years now and I still don't think I've put in enough TLC and time to make this relationship work.

I needed to take a pause to think whenever the author metaphored this relationship with love nuances and how we should move into these moments as opposed to running away from them or missing them completely.

Awareness. It's fundamental.

And then in one of these pauses I looked out at the blurry greens of Middlesex suburbia and I thought about how much of this awareness I had tapped into recently and what these different degrees and moments meant to me. When the train stopped and I was snapped back into my immediate surroundings, a man with the most beautiful long hair sat down next to me. Sure, I was a little amused by his surfer shorts and gave a quick thought to how it wasn't warm enough to wear them. But I was captivated by his Anthony Keidis (circa "Under the Bridge") hair. I fell in love for fifteen minutes.

Then I realised that I have been living through this movie of mine by clinging to mere moments of falling in love. Whether for fifteen minutes, two hours or six weeks; I have moved into these moments to catch my breath, feel it rise and fall in synch with my heart.

I've not written here for over a month. April - just gone. She wasn't here because she was with me; I was too busy falling in love with all the moments she gave me.

From Colliers Wood to Stockwell, it was the man with the Rubix Cube. He looked like a character from a John Hughes movie and I loved him for the twenty-five minute ride as he sat there seducing the cube with his dedicated hands. He'd chosen this instead of an Ipad or Ipod or an I-something. He won my heart for this alone.

I fell in love for 10 seconds with the air in the middle of Baker Street station because it held the scent of familiar skin.

I fell in love with a vintage typewriter for 3 minutes because it took me back to my seventeen year old stories - the ping at the end got re-acquainted with my heart.

I fell in love with a tattoo for six weeks because of the way it felt when I traced it with my fingers and how it accented the ribcage.

And yet, I still surprise myself when I think of how much love I have to give to these moments - can I give it to my writing? Fully commit for life and not just for twenty-five minutes or six weeks?

I've finally moved myself into May now. I'm accepting her company and letting my curiosity drive me like the reader who follows so closely alongside the protagonist. What moments does she have for me? Because she has big shoes to fill. April:

When I bathed in the sun on my living room floor and painted on a canvas using my five-year old hands. When I felt the history of a 2000 year old tree and was in the audience of the perfect gig. When I heard four sincere words that were just perfect in the moment that I heard them.

A hug that lasted for a time I couldn't record because I was lost in it's warmth and the many words that it spoke.

I couldn't keep them or the hug.

Just like all those other moments I had to let it go. But after these waves of love that occured in these brief encounters all I can say to them is this:

"Thank you. I shall remember you always. And I sure as hell am going to miss you."

Whirlwind Spring

March has carried me away with the blossoms on the wind and I've forgotten how to get back down - twirling this way and that. Time seems to have kicked things up a notch; such speed...where are all the days going?

Events are all compressed like the items in a suitcase - squeeze one more thing in!

It's been learning, reading, lunching, healing, sketching and honouring...meditations, birthday salutations, racy situations, giggles and impersonations, natural disasters and uplifting mantras, heartfelt exchanges, plans and rearrangements, mysterious dreams, the brightest moon ever seen, flowers, reunions, new friends, old flames, dead frogs, lost ducks, lots of coffee, loads of smiles, playful times, hard-working times, such little time...

yet one quiet morning I had a moment so still to take a picture of this tree:


I placed a hand on its trunk and I thought about just how much in one month, the universe has amazed me.

Gotta Have That Funk

Last night I went to a Roller-disco for my sister's birthday. I had my flares on and I was ready for the music and the disco lights but not so ready for the skates. Now, I'm an 80s kid and I had blades and even then I didn't make it past beginners level let alone make it to intermediate. So when I handed my battered, yet trustworthy boots over in exhange for a rather hefty pair or rollerskates, the hope I'd had for a boogie completely sank as I realised that I couldn't skate to save my life!

We all helped each other into our skates and off the couch; holding on like eighty year olds trying to get up from an armchair after Sunday lunch. Wobbly like a newborn calf, I braved it out onto the dancefloor. Round and around everybody went, I got jealous everytime I saw a pro disco-dancing backwards and sideways...I could only just get used to skating by the end of the night, let alone work in some moves too! Oh how I wanted to work the moves! From as long as I can remember I've been grooving my shoulders and hips to the classics of the 70s; recreating Jackson Five routines when I was still an infant. I was obsessed with 70s music and films (I still am really) and all it took was a funky beat to put a glittery disco grin on my face.

But my first experience of whizzing around on skates to Carwash was a very challenging yet exciting one and it jolted my fondness for funk again. Just yesterday afternoon I was putting together a CD I'd made as a present for my sister; a compilation of all the greatest hits of 1976, the year she was born - what a year for music that was! Play that Funky Music and Love Hangover were just a couple of the gems that had me groovin' on the playback as I decorated the sleeve with bubble writing and rainbow coloured stars.

I think all the happiness that this music envokes has elevated my spirits and reminded me of all the things that make me smile. It was only just last week that I heard a song that made me want to pick up a bass guitar again; caught myself air-bass playing, pulling the classic bass player pout and everything!

I went to see my energy healer yesterday morning and he told me that this was the most harmonious I could be at this point in my life. I've been dancing and smiling lots you see, and he reckons I'm ready to complete this cycle of healing and move on to the big plans I've got up ahead. I'm excited for what's to come and I'm going to approach it all with a little funk in my step.




Music Playlist at MixPod.com


Just had to put this song up, never fails to make me grin like the Colgate-sparkle Bee Gees themselves. The innocent cheese in this video is just wonderful and this classic tune also reminds me of the dancing scene in Airplane! my absolute favourite comedy movie...ahh what a winner.

Flu, Fatigue & Flights

So the whole month of January has sucked me into a vortex - it's been absolute disruption, chaos but most importantly, life-changing. Only from experiencing chaos can we finally understand how we can begin to create order again.

I was attacked by a very nasty flu that weighed me down and kept me pale and shaky for two weeks. Perhaps my punishment for a rather indulgent New Years but it gave me some very well needed time to rest my bones and gain a sense of my present. It allowed me to think about my surroundings and how I was feeling beyond my common flu symptoms. The fog in my head was thick and I was feeling that some sort of change was coming, like right before a thunderstorm. I also knew that these changes depended on my own choices...

...in between trying to heal and catching up on ridiculous amounts of work, there were thunderstorms brewing again and one day the lightening finally struck. Through the dense clouds of tiredness I took my imagination to a place I had taken it before and worked through a 'mind movie' but this time I stuck around to take note of the credits, observe the lighting, reflect on the plot, get a feel for the tone and setting and I watched it to the end. My life can be like this, I thought to myself, smiling for the first time in weeks. I worked this plan out for a while, talked it out and slowly I could see it unfolding as if events were slotting into place because of this realisation. And it still continues to do so.

I have always wanted to meet and spend time with Native Americans (a back story that requires a blog of its own), I have always wanted to do something stimulating and rewarding with my life; something that gives me the opportunity to help and care for those who need it. I have always wanted to stand amongst history and feel the energy prints of the past in beautiful countries; observing ancient worlds in my modern one. I have always wanted to have my breath taken away by megaliths and mountains and lagoons and temples and forests and all sorts of wonder. I have always wanted to connect with myself 100%. I have always wanted my spirit to be free...

...and so when that lightening bolt flashed, I saw myself travelling for a few months.

I set about looking things up and to my delight, all these things are in fact very accessible and financially possible. I found a volunteer programme to spend time in a Navajo community, to learn their culture and to help them with construction, educational support and community projects. I booked onto a TEFL course that grants me the ability to teach English in other country; Japan is first on the list. This, I believe is my golden ticket to anywhere in the world where I can have my breath taken away...my eyes have been dazzled by photos of Bali and Peru.

I've spun out from all these ideas, plans, research and most of all healing. Yet this is the most focussed I've been for quite some time. The clouds have bowed out now and the lightening has moved on to strike someone else. I see up ahead and the only thing in the world that will actually take me places, is me.

In the Midnight Hour

Boots, scuffed and muddy. Cold-air whips to the face.
I covered ground in a city that was not my own, but one I had frequented before...events unfolded swiftly throughout the night; all impossible to predict.

I let myself flow, wearing a bit of 2010 and a Stephanie I recall meeting before. She had been gone for a long while; remaining young and dwarfed in times of the past but coaxed out to greet her future self again for one night, given a chance to help her reset the clock.

Dancing within, like a priestess in a ceremony; heartbeat so tribal; writhing like a cobra to a flute. I lost the mechanics of my physical being and existed like water.

The universe seemed to sweep all fragments of me from all crevices and corners and put them together in the center; collected right where I stood.

And in the midnight hour, I didn't seem to recognise this existence but liked what it had to offer me once again. While paper lanterns carried wishes across a fresh sky, I bumped into my past there in the present, and wondered: had my future been there too?

And in the newborn days of January, my boots were still scuffed and muddy, cold-air whips still lashed at my face.

I stepped back into the city that had always been my own, washed the sticky remnants of 2010 away and stepped forward a little more polished, into 2011.

Feels Like Home

For Christmas, my mum and I went to my sister's house; the most homely place I know - full of children's joy, games, blankets, hugs and family photos.

For days before, my eyelids hung heavy and my head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. We worked hard all week, mum and I; 'Team Sanassee' lining the pockets of fat cats just in time for the holidays. When I had a moment to think or even breathe, I thought about how I had to pull myself out of this - the dark circles under my eyes become more sinister by the day, the fuzziness gets thicker. But how amazing to throw your bags down by the door of your biggest comfort and get hugs and kisses from the ones who look at you with unconditional love when you've been recoiling from yourself in the mirror.

It was good to spend time with my niece and nephews; it was so good to get some sleep! My mum, sister and I sat in the kitchen for many conversations and cups of tea. My sister's cat, Bambi fell in love with my baggy wooly cardigan and made me her bed, her purring soothing my restlessness. We talked about me travelling, we talked about the things I now need in my life. Mulled wine turned tiredness into softness and I sunk into the couch and breathed the deepest I had in months.

The kids' excited whispers was the nicest alarm to wake up to on Christmas morning and when I came down the stairs, everyone was swaying to Dean Martin and preparing coffee. With an abundance of new Wii games, my sister and I worked off our Christmas dinner by playing Just Dance 2 for about two hours, it reminded me just how much I love to dance, just how good it makes me feel.

We all settled down in the afternoon to watch Karate Kid; Jayden Smith reminds me a lot of one of my nephews, Kyi-Tien. He's my godson, my little star; the one that has the dream of being in the Winter Olympics and cheers me up by giving me cheesy winks and thumbs up, the 6 year old joker.

I baked my sister's boyfriend some chocolate and hazelnut cookies on Boxing Day (pictured below) because he's the kind to appreciate love that comes out of the oven. And after I had stuffed my face the entire weekend, I worked out a detox programme in my head. I'll begin this in the new year because the cheesecake that my best friend baked for me when I got home is flirting with me from the fridge and I can't possibly hurt its feelings.



The dark cirles are a little lighter, my head is a little less stuffed but new year decision making approaches. With a dose of home now in my heart, I should be able to set myself free.

All sorts and Astronauts

My nana used to say: "If you laugh too much on a Friday, you'll be crying on Sunday," a bit dismal I know, but I wondered if there was some truth to that this weekend. I've never laughed so hard on a Friday in all my life; Sunday took on a bizarre and somewhat sombre mood.

I was up on some kind of galactic high (or maybe I was just up on too many everffecent energy tablets). I got a burst of enthusiasm I haven't felt in such a long time; silliness loosened me up, widened my eyes and had me spinning. I tried to identify the stars on Google Sky Map that seemed to shine more brilliantly where I was.

There were also random one-liners about astronauts and electrons, a jaunt to Starchild (a shop name that apparantly needed to be sung theatrically) and altitude sickness from a monster set of steps - 118 of them, was it?

Natural highs...they're the best.

When you're up there you hope that you don't get called back down. Sunday forced me back down; there were tears aboard that ship; I landed with a thud. Nana would have wiggled her finger at me: "you laughed too hard on Friday."

I wanted to stay up there where my feet don't touch the ground and the joy is infinite.

Positive; "statically charged like two electrons" as someone once put it.