San Diego is in California, I am in Australia.

I’m down to single digits now, and I’m not just talking about my IQ.

My wordpress account has alerted me to my page viewings, seems that on the most popular day, I got four views. One of them would no doubtedly be me, and probably one was my grandma, so to you two people out there, hiya!

Not that I do anything for readership, mum can’t understand why people read blogs. I haven’t read anyone else’s for a long time, probably because I’m self-centred and the world revolves around me. I’m single after all, who else is there to care about?

Noone seems to know ‘Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?’ If you do, please comment and vindicate me for choosing this name for my blog. It was a significant era in my life as a child… I really thought it was more common.

My hot water has heated, Friends is on and I’d much rather be with them than with you. It’s all about me, after all.

 

: )

k-dawg. ACME detective.

God Gave Free Will (to my hair)

The things that are making me happy today:

• Dr. Phil
• New Undies

This is contrasted with the strong free will of my hair who wants to do whatever it likes. I ordered it to get into line, that often works with people… not so effective with hair. We may need couselling with Dr Phil. He wants to get me excited about my life. Oh I am, Dr Phil, I am. Just not with my hair.

grrr.

sigh.

whinge over.

 

Negative Five

In the spirit of still not talking about my Canada trip (directly I mean, because everything revolves around Canada at this point), I’ve just finished my interesting experience babysitting 4 boys under the age of 12 for 26 hours.

That’s 6pm to 6pm to 8pm for all those who won’t do that maths.

I used to want 14 kids awhile ago. I think after today I want negative five kids.

Well, no, I’m being hilarious as usual, it wasn’t too traumatic and I suppose I still want kids one day (but that’s a whole other topic altogether). Right now though, I’ll take some adult conversation.

Hershey, I might add, didn’t help out at all.

Two Weeks

Today is not tomorrow. Tomorrow I am talking to some people about the fact that I’m going away to Canada. I almost feel like shouting, ‘IT’S REALLY NOT THAT LONG’. My perception of time is hard though, because I have very little regularity in my life, so it’s just another adventure that I’m on. I mean, look how fast Africa went by. At least, how little I remember of it now…

The last two weeks are always a bit eerie eeriy eeiry.. uh, let me ctrl+n, dictionary.com this. Eerie. I was right the first time.

The last two weeks are always a bit eerie. Maybe because I often seem to leave in winter, the skies grow darker, the wind gets stronger and more significant – and I don’t mean that in terms of volume. Despite the fact that I’m disconnecting, it’s usually now that I never feel more connnected. Maybe it’s in the breaking that we find where we were strung.

My last shift, my last Desperate Housewives with mum, my last coffee with a friend – it’s all starting. No, it’s well into it. I’m saying goodbye.

The last two weeks are all about saying goodbye, spending time with the people who won’t see you while you are gone, catching up with people who you wouldn’t see in that year anyway. Surrounded by people and yet, because I’m leaving, I’m growing alone.

Not lonely, just alone.

Me and the world and existance.

And God overlooking it all.

So that when the countries and people and passports and immigration and aeroplanes blur around me, all I have to do is look up, and He’s there.

Mr. Doctor and Me.

So it’s not Canada related, but seriously, I can’t live every moment in the shadow of my leaving.

I visited the doctor’s today, us two are becoming quite tight since I just see him all the time now. Check this lump for me, write this prescription for me, do some micro brain surgery on me… you know, the usual. I should put him on speed dial, maybe he’ll give me a bulk consultation discount. Wait, isn’t that what Medicare is all about? I never know, I don’t use it… yet. With all my receipts from mr D. I think it’s about time that I try to figure it all out.

Today was the said brain surgery, he went in through my neck. Quite gruesome. The most ironic part of the procedure was the local anaesthetic really hurt… irony people, irony!! I toughed it out because I am one, and mr doctor left me for about 15 minutes for it to… soak in… I suppose you might say. I discovered at that moment that I actually hate the feeling of numbness, ESPECIALLY on my neck. Icky..

He came back after seeing an old lady (I could hear them down the hall, what a way to make money, consult while your poor extremely-loyal patient lays in wait) and then went at it, hacking around to yank out some awesomely gross growth. Hating all things medical, it made me feel quite icky while he did his cutting dealio and it seemed to take forever for him to squeeze it out. The lump that is, not my brain.

Eventually I could feel it had come out but was still attached to tissue and he was pulling it and I could feel it and it was SOOOOOOOOO gross but also mildly satisfying… like popping a pimple that’s ready to go (I get some sick glee from those experiences). He had to cut the tissue more and more and you’d feel a snap and then he’d go back for more, probably making sure he’d got it all which is FINE BY ME because if it happened to be cancerous then I’d rather him not leave a bit hanging around as a souveneir.

He finished and sewed me up, now it hurts to move my head and everytime I turn I am scared all the stitches will come flying out which is silly because they are covered in a nice water-proof dressing that took him three goes to put on properly.

What’s another scar compared to my thyroidectomy one?

Scars are like badges of countries you pick up on the way showing where you’ve been.

Hershey didn’t come, he’s hopeless in situations like this. I told he was useless and to go home and to put the bins out (but the jokes on him because the bins don’t go out today).

Mutilated and thriving, this has been another Kezza blog.

The Boredom is in the Details.

The countdown would appear to be well under 30 days now, but I can’t be sure of the exact number since my countdown application is on Facebook and the computer which I now hate with a hatred so fierce is refusing me access. So I’m leaving sometime.. soonish. Probably.

It’s well time for another update on the (mis)adventures of Miss Kerryn, still in the gloriously diverse land of Australia. I went down south for several nights to get away and rediscover my soul and all those good things. And I did. Much recommended. I caught up with a few mates (who graciously allowed me to crash on whatever bedding they had… ranging from 5 star hotels with included lotion bottles to the back of a caravan annex with an outdoor toilet) and was also able to get much time by myself. It sounds weird, but I love being alone. It’s almost like a drug to me, I could easily get addicted to solitarity (that is SO not a word)… oh, solitude, that’s the word. I would succeed way too successfully as a hermit me thinks, so a life in the ‘burbs is probably good for me. Nevertheless, time on the stormy Margaret River beaches with my camera and the zillion Switchfoot cds I now own, allowed me to connect with the inner me. She’s alot like the outer me, only quieter and more normal.

And that would be my last vacation until Canada.. although really SYG should count, there is nothing vacation-ie about running flat out with a tennis/soccer/volleyball for a whole long weekend. I’m getting old me thinks.

Plans to fly are almost done, it’s only the details that I am onto now (nice feeling!!!). Details however, are not my friends, even though I’m neurotic about them. Putting them off for weeks is something I’m prone to do. NEVER AGAIN, I say to myself. And I try to force my personality to conform to a mould and get everything done but it’s an effort. Much more relaxed to leave things til the last minute. That is of course, until the last minute when I thrive on the STRESS of the situation.

Like losing your passport…

*thinks*

.. no, that’s completely different.

Hershey is helping me with all the forms I have to submit and photocopy and keep a track of. He’s quite reliable, I should probably pay him more. Not that he did anything while I was away… ingrate.

Before I go, here’s my plug. Get into Switchfoot. Oh, nah, don’t worry about it, I might keep them for myself. Jon Foreman, the lead singer, has a new solo EP out, well, four actually and they rock my world. Well, the two I have. Anyways, that’s what’s playing in my Windows Media Player at the mo… what about yours?

Signing off,

Kerryn Switchfoot.

(that would be my name if I married them all. oh, come on, like you’ve never done that before)