what a weekend. i have had one of those strings of weekends that have all been so ridiculously eventful – and at the same time, uneventful – that i havent written about any of them.
thats what happens. i write Encyclopedias about the most mundane things like how i can’t sleep, and my spasticated bones and how i hate oysters. and when too many things of actual importance happen – i dont write about it.
one of four of my girlfriends who got engaged this year had her engagement party on Saturday night. a glorious affair – an expensive, beachfront restaurant hired for the event, 150+ guests, white tablecloths, pretty dresses, boys in suits. all the girls were there – even the ones that went overseas for years have returned, and our little fabulous group was miraculously complete. for a moment i stopped, mid-fourth and fifth glass of Sauvignon Blanc, and realised that my god we are all so… mature.
i avoid the term ‘older’ as that stings a little too much. i can hear you say ‘you are only as old as you feel’ and its ok, because at that very moment i didn’t feel old. at all. i felt fabulous. and extremely happy that us girls have managed to stay together and at the same time move on. here is E getting engaged and it felt like three years ago when she was running around my house in Kew, with an ice cream bucket hanging around her neck, dry-reaching from too many UDL’s.
sigh. how Wonder Years Flash Back.
the party went from glamorous to trashy (without losing any decorum. we are, after all, perfect products of the ultimate Private, Catholic School). i was however, woken up the next day by Dean calling from Canberra, and realised when i sat up that i’ve grown a third knee. it was black and blue and completely bung, and i lied there in bed trying not to vomit on myself due to 1) Feeling like i drank Mexico and 2) Did i, in my throes of drunkeness and fabulosity, join Wrestle Mania wearing my new 11cms heels and rumbled in the jungle of Robarta with a female Steven Segal without me knowing?!
So needless to say, Sunday was spent feeling very sorry for myself, nursing my head by crying over Spanglish (burnt illegaly by mother dearest) and hobbling to the Supermarket to buy a packet of Panadol Rapids and Benson and Hedges wearing my Wayfarers in the rain. to add further insult to injury, my mother calls me and starts describing how her world is full of nothing but utter hopeless prospects devoid of any resuscitation.
i am sooo stressed, Paulina. *sigh*
i know ma, i understa-
NO YOU DONT, Paulina. there are too many new things at work…i am 51, did you know that?
Yes mum i kno-
I should know all these things by now, technology, all this typing business… if only i came here when i was your age, i am too old for all of this… i have no luck in any part of my life.. there is a funny bump on my tongue….why do you sound like shit Paulina WHY?
*under my breath* Because i have had two massive weekends of complete debauchery mum, last night ended up hurting my knee and was too drunk to remember, my right eye is a little bloodshot and is starting to get really itchy and i crawled into bed this morning most probably when you were getting up.
SO ANYWAY. i am sooo stressed Paulina, last night i was thinking – should i jump off my balcony? Or drink bleach? Which way is better to go you think? Bleach would probably take longer, no? But cleaner. Much cleaner.
An excerpt of the sort of conversation i’ve been having with who i regard is the strongest, most put-together woman on this earth.
I refuse to put past tense on that sentence, because i know this is a phase that surely must pass. i am completely lost as to why she’s become so utterly unreachable, and weak. how everything in her life has suddenly become all too much. everything is to blame and thoughts of dying is in her mind. its freaking me out and no amount of cajoling or presents or dinners from me seem to be working lately. and both money and food always work so brilliantly with my mother.
i am at a complete loss. the strongest anchor in my world is showing me that she has, in the harshest reality, a breaking point.
who ever wants to know that?