So on Saturday these two finally get it all together. It's been awesome to read all about the development of their relationship, from both sides, and to have small little conversations with each of them telling me all about how much they feel for the other.

It's reminiscent of a time when I was the same, I was wanting and waiting and all 'hurry up already!' about things.

In a weird way, I miss those days. Believe me, that's something I never ever thought I'd say - as February drew closer my life reached this terrible stage where all I could do was go to work every day at ABSA, dealing with customers trying to draw money they didn't have, coming home at a time when my parents were so opposed to me coming to the UK and I would sit in the living room gloom of their feelings about my leaving; life was depressing and the days passed leadenly. So to hear myself say that I miss missing and being missed, is surprising.

But there's a lot to be said for those heady days of long-distance love - the times when Ian and I would only get to spend two weeks at a time with each other. So when I look at him now and he looks at me, and we both know that the other was there yesterday, is here now, and will be there in the morning, a little bit of the rush has gone.
It's been replaced with something solid, something long-term that reveals itself when I cook dinner for the both of us, when he calls and asks me to pick up milk, when his eyes meet mine and he can look away without a smile because he can smile at me the next time he looks at me, in two weeks we will still be in the same space to make eye contact again.

Sad in a way, great in another. This is the trade-off you make when you move in with the one you love. You run the risk of taking each phone call for granted, because what's the point when you're going to speak to each other at home anyway. You don't share the small interesting events with the other because hey - he was there when it happened.

But you do get to kiss him any time you want to.

You are growing up without me.

I speak to Charlene every week and she tells me about how he's doing. This baby baby baby honey pie isn't a baby anymore, no sir-ee, he's a little boy. He blabs to himself all the time and I wish so bad that I was there to smush my fingers with his and be annoyed by tantrums all the time. He doesn't speak properly yet, and still, he's bilingual. Cha told him to say goodbye to me over the phone, and she goes, "say bye bye!" and he goes "chjoes".
She says when he wants to look in mommy's coffee cup he says, "cubby", and he calls all food "nana" after his favourite fruit.
He pokes his finger into his belly button, complains because it hurts, and then a few minutes later does it again.

I'm not going to get all Dooce and address him directly, and besides, I didn't push him out so I don't think I'm entitled.
But I'm his aunty, I hope I'm his favourite aunty, the one he used to headbang when I had the littlest bit of time with him last year. He loved his birthday present from me, and the cake he ate for his very first birthday was the one I baked the day before I left my home to start anew in a different place.

And now he's becoming the small person I got a slight impression of back then, it's all coming out and emerging and I'm missing every day of it. I hope he remembers me.

Vientjie vientjie baba!

I know I chastise some of you when you don't blog - so when I don't, I do feel pretty hypocritical.
I know I've been quiet for a while, and before I launch into the existential crisis of my blog-sistence, I'm just going to pre-empt and let you know that I really don't seem to have enough time thesedays.

I used to dismiss Wa's argument of work taking up all his time for blogging as silliness, but having entered the 'real world' myself now *cough* I have had to come around to agree with him.
All time constraints aside, lots has been happening.

Yes, some guys tried to bomb the tube again, and today a guy was shot in Stockwell for some reason. It's all a bit crappy, considering that not taking the tube adds a good 40 minutes onto my commute home. Not great.

Ian got the job! I suppose as his site is still down, I'll announce it - Ian got the job he applied for to work directly for his company. And judging by the grin on his face all weekend and the sheer number of spec manuals from different car manufacturers littered around our flat, I'd say he's pretty damn chuffed.
He deserves it.
Of course his new job entails a move, but more to come on that later once we're done partying.

And other minor teeny things have happened. I invested in the I'm Alan Partridge box set, which, to my delight, my flatmates enjoy too (back of the net!); I bumped into three friends from uni pretty randomly - turns out they live just one tube stop away from me; and we saw REM (Damien's pics here).

Last but not least, a chat with Damien yesterday brought up RSS - I don't use RSS feeds, as I do feel like you lose out a little... but it would be nice to be alerted to new updates... can anyone give any compelling reasons to have / not have RSS set up?

My flipbook animation.

Make your own here.

I am not a person who overreacts in times like these. When the bombs were going off, I , like every other journalism graduate, went straight to the media and stayed glued for as long as I possibly could without getting fired.

When my underground train was diverted along the Bank branch yesterday morning because of a scare at a station way up, I carried on to a diversion station and took a connecting train. When the street outside my work building was closed off yesterday afternoon and the police sent a robot down the street to investigate an abandoned car, I looked on in curiousity as I knew I was too far away and on too high a floor to be in any danger.

But when my train this morning was diverted twice, from my original route and back again, I was initially happy; and when as everyone exited the train at Kennington a man started (for lack of a better word) screaming to everyone that the platform was being evacuated, and people were running wide-eyed towards the exits as my train pulled away - I was really scared, for the first time in this whole situation.

A man and his girlfriend were hugging and she was crying a little and everyone was eyeing everyone else out (especially those who had just boarded the train) and I just thought, this has got to stop.

I want to be defiant and 'stoic' and all of those good things, but I really felt like shrivelling up inside as the doors to the train closed that little bit too quickly, as the driver sped up that little bit faster than before. Because there you are, you're in what is effectively a long metal and glass tube in a long hole deep in the ground, and your mind runs through scenarios that will more than likely never play out.

Those poor poor people who are still looking for their loved ones. By now they must feel so hopeless.

three screen names i've had: nrgza, aminal, rockit

three things you like about yourself: my open mind, my seeming ability to attract good people into my circle of friends, my humility (ha HA!)

three things i don't like about myself: how quickly I sometimes get my back up, my incessant need to sleep, my paranoia about other people's intentions

three parts of my heritage: one side of my family is extremely racist (that will never change, sadly), I carry white guilt, I was born prematurely and as a result have weak knee tendons and very bendy elbows

three things that scare me: ominous displays at museums, the thought of being alone, death

three of your everyday essentials: mascara, chapstick, tea

three things you are wearing right now: trainers (in case the tube closes and I need to walk again), jeans, sparkly scarf worn as belt

three of my favourite songs: best deceptions (dashboard confessional), the wonderful future (our lady peace), feel good inc (gorillaz)

things i want in a relationship: friendship, passion, understanding

two truths and a lie: there are things that I will never tell anyone. I have never been comfortable in my own skin. I love avocado.

three things i can't do without: my phone, breakfast, a good night's sleep

three places you want to go on vacation: japan, new england, germany

three things you just can't do: dive into a pool, figure out my hair, wear a creased garment

three kids names: josie, chloe, jack

things you want to do before you die: have a child, own a pair of designer shoes, discover an immortality herb

three celeb crushes:Matthew McConaghey, Adam Brody, Napolean Dynamite (just kidding about that one)

And now your head is filled with unnecessary information about me. Suffer, fool!

About a day like today.

I am fine, everyone that I know here is fine. No one at my work was directly affected, other than having transport problems.

So why does it feel a little bit personal?

Well, I guess it's pretty obvious really. I take the tube into work everyday. And while none of the stations I visit were hit, the fact that I could identify with the people in those blasted carriages makes it hard to take today's events.
My mind flittered back and forth between feelings.
Annoyance that a defective train at Balham meant that my tube station at Colliers Wood was closed. Panic as I reached Waterloo and heard that all tube entrances were no-go and that the entire system was being evacuated - not because I was scared, but because I didn't know the walking or bus route from there to Charing Cross, and had never used the overland to get there before (and my 10am meeting would not be an option). Worry as I entered my work building, walking past the desks of people who were talking in tense tones about explosions. And horror as that picture of the bus was shown on Sky.

The rest of the day consisted of keeping in touch with all my friends here, ensuring they were okay, letting my parents and friends in South Africa know that I was safe, keeping up to date on any developments, meetings involving the whole company, getting to an overland station, squishing on sardined trains, Ian picking me up, more TV watching, a little nap and a curry.

What tomorrow will bring, we'll have to see. I'm hoping it'll be fine - that the tube will be up and running in the areas not hit, and that people will feel safe to sit and ignore each other in peace on the underground in the near future.

*applause*

That's right folks! Right here, right now, you have the chance (exclusive to the losers who read my crappy site) to directly affect the life of my boyfriend, whose site isn't working right now so I won't link to him.

*boo*

Yes, he should get that sorted out.

*applause*

Back to the main attraction, namely your interferance. Basically, Ian and I have this deal - we cook on alternate days during the week. We haven't really settled on what we do on the weekends - but hey, it's only been three and a half months, people! That's only 14 weekends, to figure out something so complex! Curry or no curry, cook or order in - these are difficult choices, and not ones to be taken lightly.

So tonight, it's my turn. Generally, I like to think of myself as the more creative of the two of us when it comes to dinner, although every so often Ian does pull one out of the bag and surprise me. So, in an effort to keep things fresh, I'm appealing to YOU to decide what I'm going to cook tonight.

Bear in mind that half the day has already passed, and I still have no idea what to cook. I'm desperate, and frankly, quite sick of pork chops and baby potatoes.

So go on, please enter your suggestions in the comments below, and I promise to bore enthrall you with photos of the result (loving this delete tag!). Please note that anything containing olives, raw onions, very hot spices and tofu are automatically veto'ed.
Ian also doesn't like mushrooms. But I can bypass them. Not that I have been already. Ahem.

Recipes welcome.

During the inevitable 'did you watch Live 8 / Madonna has had work done / Coldplay were a letdown' conversation rehash at work yesterday, this totally cynical guy came up with the following gem about the attempt at poverty eradication:

My uncle, god rest his soul, told me this: if you took all the money in the world, bunched it together, and divided it up equally among everyone, within 30 seconds you'd have 100 people with billions and a billion people with hundreds, because people who don't know what to do with money give it to someone else or frit it away.

Now, I don't know this guy's uncle, or whether he actually did enter a parallel universe to try out this experiment and place such a definite time frame on the projected outcome, but this kind of cynical 'people is stoopid' thinking really rubs me the wrong way.
Essentially, he taking a valid point and twisting it to the end of saying that poverty will never be eradicated and that people currently in poverty should just accept their lot in life.

Sure, capitalism is ultimately self-defeating and sure, it relies on there being haves and have-nots, but it really got my goat that this man in his suit and tie feels entitled to make that call. I'm sure he feels better about not giving to charity or supporting as revolutionary an initiative as live 8 as a result.

Two minutes later, he's convincing us to go in on a work ticket for the European Lotto.

Pssssh.

Just when I thought I'd enter this week with nothing of much interest to blog about, Gillifer goes and gifts me a flickr pro account.
Having just ordered a USB cable for my phone, this means there is much photo-age to come! I know she 'doesn't do blogs' but I must thank her on the offchance - this teeny tiny little act of kindness has brightened up my week considerably already, and just knowing that the crappy pics my phone takes could never amount to 2G a month means I can snap and upload away.

I feel prompted to do something similarly kind for someone else this week, so beware - maybe you'll have a smile on your face sometime soon.

Did anyone else catch Snoop Dogg rock Hyde Park on Saturday night?

In the meantime, the first pics from the visit to the Natural History Museum are here; more to come.

Every now and then, ever so randomly, Ian and I have these heavy conversations. The process is usually as follows:
a) There is an issue
b) Whoever is feeling strongest about the issue talks, the other listens
c) The other talks, the first speaker listens
d) Some sort of understanding about the feelings of both speakers is reached
e) Similar or associated issues are brought up
f) Repeat steps b - d.
g) A little bit of joking.
h) NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS.

On different occasions, the catalysts for these conversations vary. Sometimes it's something minor, in which case the above process is somewhat amended to the situation and the whole thing is generally speeded up a bit.
But when the process is potentially relationship-rethink-worthy, it can be a bit scary. In these cases, I usually end up crying a little (hey, I'm a girl, you've seen the photos) and this is down to the fact that I am reminded that this is a relationship not to be taken for granted.

As Ian says, relationships often need to be assessed - are you getting enough out of it to warrant it going on? And if you're not, are you going to do something about it?

Warren, Candice, have I scared you enough yet? :)

I never ever want to let this, the most important relationship of my quarter life, fizzle out due to a lack of 'getting enough out'.
It does frighten me that with enough 9 to 5 days, Ian and I could eventually get to the point where we live around each other.

And with this new potential job prospect for him, there's another aspect to us that has to be considered... we could become a full-time weekend couple.
One week until I have some clarity on that. In the meantime, we're as we always have been; water that is poured into each other's own specific cup, taking the shape of the other, while trying to stay as true to our own original form as we can.