A Moment of Reflection

Having moved all of these blogs over to the one spot, I have taken the time do do something I rarely do. I’ve been reading back over them all. It’s amazing to see the journey of the past two years in such a personal way. These blogs are almost like a diary and the arc of this journey is interesting to look back on in such detailed hindsight.

Life here happens so quickly, this city moves at such break neck speed – it’s a rare thing to be able to listen to your voice within it’s clanging.

These two years backing London have felt like an eternity. I claimed recently that although I’d only been back two… I must have aged ten. But when I think about it… it could have been yesterday I got off that plane.

Time is such an abstract thing.

Reading these entries, I can see the girl who came back from America change and grow. It’s almost laughable how little I knew, how full of bravado and fury. I hear the tone of her voice changing and I can see her path change direction. Perhaps its because only I know what was really going on behind all of these tales… or what it all felt like – I can truly see what she was going through – what humour was real, what jokes were a defence - why cynicism was a shield – what moments really hurt.

It’s just interesting how such a relatively small space of time can bring a journey that has felt so large and long, with great changes, challenges and achievements… And I can only assume it will pale in comparison with what is surely yet to come.

I read a great quote today - "Most of us do not accept, or even believe in, the continual flux of life. However strange this may seem, once we truly accept this at a physical level, we will not need to search for certainty... As you tackle the tribulations of life, insights help you from taking yourself, your challenges, and life itself too seriously, because you will know that not matter what situation you are in, good or bad, it will change. This insight into the changing nature of the world will give you equanimity and joy."

The Things She Should Have Said - Part 2. A Fictional Piece.

She peeled her eyes open – the grey dawn was breaking outside her window. What time was it? She had no idea. She could hear the birds chirping which normally meant it was sometime after about five. It was Sunday. She knew that. God… where had the week gone? The past few weeks had floated by without her even noticing. She reached for the glass of water beside her bed. As her American friends would say – she was “parched”. The cool drink felt sweet in her mouth. She sighed. She lay back down and closed her eyes.

His breathing changed beside her – he was finding his way out of sleep. He’d be awake soon. She ran her hand over her chest and nestled her head into his shoulder. He felt warm. This felt nice. His skin had been softer than she remembered. Guys like this, they almost always had rough hands, hard fingers… it had been a surprise when his hand had brushed hers in the bar earlier that night. A surprising touch that was… unexpectedly gentle.

It had not been her intention to wake up next to him when she had agreed to meet for a drink. A friendly catch up was the only intent. A couple of beers and the standard “so what have you been doing for the past eight years” type of conversation. This is where it had all started. But as the night wore on and the familiar banter returned, she began enjoying the feel of his soft skin and gentle hands.

He coughed and jolted himself awake.

“You want some water?” she asked

“Nah – I’m alright love”

She knew his use of the word love was in no way a reference to what was going on between them – merely a turn of phrase. He closed his eyes and dozed off again. She watched him the rising light.

She smiled. Damn it. She liked this one. She always had.

There’d always been a soft spot for him, but as can sometimes happen, life had taken them in two completely different directions. Opposite sides of the metaphorical and physical world. She would often enquire as to how he was… checking in every year or so – waiting for the day the answer from their mutual friend would be “he’s moving in with her” or “he’s getting married” - but so far, that day hadn’t arrived. She wasn’t dreading it; hell she’d be happy for him to have found someone. She had always wanted him to be happy.

They had stumbled out of the cab and up to her apartment late last night after too many beers. She gave him the grand tour – it took all of twenty five seconds in her tiny apartment. They had sat on the couch. He had run his fingers through her hair and let them linger on her neck a little too long - the way he knew she liked it. It’s strange, she thought, how our bodies have a memory of one another. The way hands, arms, fingers and lips can remember where they once sat comfortably, many years ago.

“You know” she said “There are two spare beds here tonight… you can sleep wherever you want. Please don’t think you have to spend the night in my bed… if you don’t want to.”

She was doing it again. After the “crash of 2007” she seemed now to give her “gentlemen callers” a get out of jail free card. An option to escape should they want to now that they were faced with the full Technicolor of the reality of her.

He just looked at her. Smiled.

She hated to admit how much these situations scared her these days. She just couldn’t shut herself off like she used to. Her heart had burst open a while ago – and seemed that no matter how hard she tried to slam it shut - time and time again, the door creaked open. At least she knew she could start to feel it all again. But to be honest, this is what terrified her the most.

“You are” he whispered “a thousand times more beautiful than I remembered you. Does that answer your question?”

She smiled and looked away. These kinds of comments made her uncomfortable in her own skin. She never knew what to say to this.

“Thank you” she had mumbled and buried her head in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her. She could have spent the entire night right there. But she didn’t. They moved off the couch, down the hall and into her room. The night moved on in the usual way.

Their whole reunion had been sweet, intimate and sentimental. A moment where the two of them could be in an oasis of one another. A moment of what could have been.

But now… as the grey light brightened… she could feel time ticking, the oasis was sliding away and reality falling over them like a fog.

His eyes were open – he was staring at the ceiling.

“What time is it?” he asked.
“Too early to have to know” she answered, rolling towards him and rubbing his chest.
“Seriously hon… you know I have a train to catch… what time is it?”

Apparently he had reached reality before she had.

“Oh… its… um… nearly seven” she answered.

“I should get going… I don’t want to be late.”

He got up and started looking for his clothes; she rubbed his back as he sat on the edge of his bed.

“This was nice,” She said.

He turned and looked at her. He had a lazy smile about him, like the cowboys who look over their shoulders in movies. The ones who tip their hats and ride off into the sunset.

“Yes… it was…” He rubbed her shoulder and kissed her forehead. He looked at her again... she loved how utterly vulnerable she felt.

“Don’t go. Stay. Stay in this little pocket of time. Don’t let it end. Don’t wake up and let the fog fall. I don’t want to go back to the real world, I like it here where we can pretend that this is perfect and that this is us. That there would never be a problem with us, that we would be happy and sweet with soft skin forever. Stay and let me always bury my head in the endless caverns of your neck. Keep looking at me like you understand, keep resting your nose on mine, keep this fantasy world alive. Don’t get on the bus that will take you to the train that leads to the plane that takes us right back to where we never got to go. Stay here with me in this sleepy happy daze. Don’t let the mess of the real world come on in and fuck it all up.”

But instead she said… “Do you want a cup of tea?”

All too soon the sun was up, bags were packed and they were at the bus stop. The air was crisp and fresh. It woke both of them up much more than she liked.

“So… it’s some life you’ve got yourself here babe.” He said, looking out at the river.

“Yeah. It’s ok.” She replied. “It’s not always easy… but it’s what I wanted right?”

“Yeah. You always did.”

The bus appeared from around the corner.

“Well…” he said, picking up his bags “Here’s my ride.”

“Yup”

“I guess I’ll see you in another eight years.”

He smiled at her again and laughed.

He kissed her on the cheek.

“Take care love. You’re awesome.”

She smiled. There was nothing left to say. She had to let this moment go.

And just like that he got on the bus… and drove off into the sunrise.

The Things She Should Have Said - Part 1. A Fictional Piece.

She jiggled her knees and hugged her cup of coffee. The weather felt like it was seeping through her skin and into her bones. She was cold from the inside out. This is ridiculous she thought. Where the hell is the train? For the life of me, I will never get used to this ridiculous cold. She sighed and hugged her coffee tighter. She could see her own breath disappearing in front of her.

People were gathering around, all staring hopefully down the track – of course the train was late. They’re always late. This was Britain after all. She pulled her sunglasses over her eyes and snuggled down into the steel chair. She didn’t care that the sun wasn’t shining – wearing her sunglasses always seemed to put a barrier between her and the rest of the universe. A way for her to not actually have to interact with those around her, not that she would know anyone here anyway.

The anonymity of this country was what she liked about it. Her brief brush with notoriety in her teens had taught her quickly that privacy and obscurity were the most valuable things she could own. Her false start of a career as an adult had placed her happily up stage right of the spotlight and in recent years, solitude had become her happy companion. Yes, at times the loneliness was palpable but the feeling was now so familiar she regarded more as a welcome friend. One that, in recent times, had sat beside her while she slowly stitched things back together.

She leafed through a magazine. She liked to read when she travelled; it immersed her even further into her own world – distorting the other people who were packed like sardines around her. I-pod, sunglasses, hat, scarf and magazine – nothing could make her happier on this Sunday afternoon.

“Can I sit here?” a voice said.

“God damn it” she thought. She had put her bags purposefully on the chair beside her in an effort to dissuade people from sitting there. Living in such an overcrowded city had made her far more protective of her personal space. She looked up, absent mindedly to answer. The face that met her took a moment to register.

“Hi” she said, pulling her sunglasses off.

“Oh god… hi” he answered. “I didn’t realise it was you.”

“Yep” she stammered, “It’s me.”

They stared at each other.

This was the moment they had both been dreading. Neither of them had thought it would happen in a train station.

“Well… can I sit?” he asked

“Um… yeah. Sure. If you want to.”

“Of course I want to, don’t be an idiot.”

Oh god this was awful. She had played out this particular moment in her head thousands and thousands of times. She’d prepared all the carefree remarks, the witty asides and the long, touching monologues. She knew exactly what she wanted to say – here was the moment… and all she wanted to do was vomit.

“So how are things?” he asked.

“Good… good. They’re good.”

Don’t tell him anything she thought. If he really wanted to know about your life he would have called to ask months ago.

“Well… you look good” he tried again.

“Thanks.” She said. “I know.”

She knew she shouldn’t have added it but she didn’t care. The two of them had already done so much damage to this relationship one more aside wouldn’t make a difference.

“I heard you finally made it out to LA… Did you love it?”

She smiled quietly to herself.

“You know I did. It was never really going to be a question as it?”

“I’m surprised you came back”

“Well I did try to marry the border protection guy at the airport so I could stay a little longer. Unfortunately he didn’t see the humour in the situation.”

He laughed.

Oh god please don’t laugh. Don’t get into this familiar banter. Don’t allow him to be charming. Don’t ask him questions you don’t want to know.

“I heard you’re seeing someone.”

You said it! You know you don’t want to know, why the hell are you asking?

“Um… yeah… I am.”

The words floated through her ears and into her stomach. Again. She wanted to vomit.

“Her name is Caroline… she’s and actress… she’s – “

“Aaaah no offence” she cut him off. “I – I don’t want to know anything more than that.”

She could feel him looking at her, but couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

“Fair enough” he conceded.

She nodded, smiling. Why the hell was she nodding? Why the hell was she smiling? She didn’t know. Anything to avoid looking at him.

“Well… what about you?” he continued. “Weren’t you dating that ah.. dentist guy?”

She closed her eyes, willing this moment to be over.

“Ah… yes I was… but now… I’m not. It… it didn’t work out.”

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.”

Not only did she want to vomit, but she could feel the tears welling up. Hurling in public would be one thing, but crying would certainly be another.

“Yeah… I bet you are.”

She couldn’t help herself. This kind of sarcasm had always been her coat of armour when it came to him.

He knew this.

“I mean it kid… you deserve to be happy.”

The words stung.

This was too much. She bent down to get her bags, dropping her coffee on the way.

“I’m sorry… I can’t do this.”

She knew it was just the kind of melodrama he hated. But it was killing her. She really wanted this to be normal, for them to be fine. To go on as friends – as those great buddies who “used to date but now get along great and can laugh about it.” But for now… in this particular moment… in this rediculous train station… she just couldn’t do it.

He was like a ghost. The ghost of relationship past that she just couldn’t escape. She was haunted by him and this safe conversation was simply too much. She hated this. She hated that she had become “that girl” but here she was and that’s how she felt and she simply had to go.

“Baby, don’t do this... come on…” he said

She snapped back.

“I’m not you’re fucking baby. You made that quite clear months ago.”

She regretted it as soon as she said it. She couldn’t move. She stared at the ground.

“Come on” he said. “You can at least look at me.”

She lifted her gaze and looked him in the eye.

And there… in the freezing train station… there was a crack in the planet.

“Say it. Just say it. Have the fucking courage to say that you are sorry. Stop ignoring the fact we systematically tried to destroy each other. Stop skirting around the conversations we should have had. The ones where you explain your behaviour. Where you tell me where you went and why. Tell me the truth. I can handle it. Did you just fall out of love as easily as we fell in? Did you get scared? Are you a liar? Did I push you away? Was it all a setup? A joke? A game? I’ll apologise. Fuck I already have. Many times. I’ve said I am sorry, I’ve explained my behaviour; I’ve told you everything you needed to know. Please. Your silence is impossible; your behaviour makes you a liar and for the life of me I cant work out what the hell happened. It all seems so warped now. So surreal and far away that I wonder if it ever actually happened. Did I hallucinate the entire thing? Did I script the conversations in my head? Did I make it all up? Or were you just lying? If you were, why would you do that? Why couldn’t you just talk to me? Why did you leave me to shoot the dying horse and then feel the following waves of guilt? And then why did you revive it again and again and again? Why does it still echo within me every day? Why is it… that when all the dust settles I still desperately want to make you proud? And why is your fingerprint everywhere I look? I’m terribly sorry but I can’t shoot the shit about your girlfriend while there is still so much left unsaid. And why… why can I not hate you? God knows it’s not for lack of trying.”

She sighed. These were the things she should have said.

Instead she smiled at him. The train was coming.

“I have to go. I’ll see you around… take care. I mean it. Be happy.”

And with that. She got on the train.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t vomit. She just looked out the window.

And locked her heart away… in the box with all the things she should have said.

That's It! I'm Done!

Ok, that's it. I'm done. I'm fed up and I can't take it any more.

I was at the Euro Star terminal today coming back from Paris (ohh la la how fancy do I sound?) and all I wanted was something to read. Just a magazine or a paper that would keep me entertained for the ride back to London.

But could I find anything that suited my fancy? No. There was not a single publication on the shelves I could take off their hands… why? Because EVERY SINGLE magazine has a picture of Victoria Beckham on it. I kid you not…. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. I can't take it any longer! What has happened to the female role models in this world?
Why is it that the majority of women on the covers of magazines, taking up the worlds headlines are underweight and over hyped?

Lets take a look at the news headlines of 2007 shall we?

• Paris Hilton went to jail.
• Jordan got a boob reduction
• Victoria Beckham moved to America
• Nicole Richie got pregnant
• Britney Spears shaved her head
• Jade Goody showed her true colours as an ignorant bully
• Kate Moss was broke up, got back together and broke up with a drug addict
• Lindsay Lohan went to rehab.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE? (other that the fact I have retained all of this information?)

To top it all off, Britain's illustrious new Prime Minister held up footballers wives as examples to young women because they have a few GCSE's between them.

Dear Lord.

Now don't get me wrong… I love a trashy mag at the best of times… but there is a line and point where this celebrity obsession has got to stop! "Celebrity"… what a word that has become. What was once a notoriety based on talent and ability is now a terrifying word that seems to refer to groups of women who clutter our media, gaining financial success and notoriety doing little more than falling drunkenly out of limos and night clubs (often sans underwear.)

It's a bombardment of the banal that has a knock on effect where women of all ages are actually caring if Kylie has had a facelift of if Jlo is piling on the baby weight. We become so used to seeing women behaving like idiots in public (shaving heads, crashing cars, flashing crotches…) that it becomes the norm and not only acceptable but seems to IMPROVE their careers!

WHERE ARE TODAY'S FEMALE ROLE MODELS I ASK YOU!? GIVE YOUNG WOMEN TODAY SOMEONE TO LOOK UP TO WHO IS NOT MARKETING THEIR OWN FRAGRENCE THAT REMINDS US ALL OF TOILET CLEANER!?

Don't worry – I am aware of the amazing women who are out there – the Cate Blanchette's, the Clare Smyth's, the Christine Amanpour's and my personal favourite Mika Brzezinski (the news reader who tore up her script in disgust at leading with yet another Paris Hilton story) but why oh why aren't these the people on the front covers being celebrated… not the binge drinking fools who dominate our media.

I say lets make 2008 the year of the decent female role model. The year when we hold up people who should inspire us… I can no longer condone the support of careers that consist of a stint on Big Brother and an exclusive deal with OK! Magazine.

As I said… that's it. I'm done!

Get on the Soap Box... a Political Piece

There are some things in my own little world that I am known for...

* messy bedrooms
* drunken phone messages
* spelling mistakes
* soap opera love life
* inappropriate behavior

The list goes on... however - nowhere on that list would you find "passion for american politics". But my friends... its there. In fact, it over shadows my passion I have for the politics of the country in which I was born in, and of the one i now live in. I don't know why.

Don't get me wrong, I love that John Howard lost his job and that Kevin Rudd is running the country from his Queensland Veranda, I also think that Gordon Brown is in no way the right person to be running the UK, but there is something about the glamour and razzamatazz of US politics I find increasingly fascinating. And my friends... we are indeed in an exciting time.

As we all know, 2008 marks the end of George W Bush's hideous 8 years in the white house - and as the rest of the world sighs with relief that the "misunderstimated" cowboy will be packing his bags and riding off into the sunset, the focus now tuns to the big question of who will be the one to replace him? Who is going to clean up this mess that George will leave behind? After eight years of clumsy republican rule... the spotlight is of course on the democratic race... who will win the election for them? Now up until the past couple of weeks I simply assumed that it would have to be Hillary Clinton.

First female president, already spent 8 years in the white house and really... anyone who can be married to Big Bill must have the diplomacy skills to run the USA... No... she is not against the war, but has that polished and maticulously groomed vaneer that would win over middle america and get all the baby boomer wives out and voting. It makes sense... her man cheated, she stood by him... now she gets to run the world. (Of course, I am not whittling the race to run one of the most powerful countries into the world down to who survived their relationship troubles the best... but there are people out there who do...) And really to be honest... I love Bill Clinton's arrogance and bravado... and i love the idea of him being the first gentleman.

Big Bill playing his saxaphone, smoking cigars and terrorising interns while Hillary runs the country...(some would say that was what happened during his presidency anyway...) Its a two for one deal - vote for Hillary but get Bill as well. A modern twist on a nostalgic return to the way things were before the horror of 9/11 and this rediculous war. Who can argue with that?

I had looked at the other candidates a bit, but it just seemed pointless as nothing could really beat the formidable force of team Clinton...

But then something happened. Pretty much the only thing that could tip Hillary's popularity with middle America's female voters. Something that I never thought would actually ever happen.

And that something... was Ms. Oprah Winfrey.

Yup. The most influential woman in the world got up and had something to say. She had just two words... Barack Obama.

Now - if you know me well you will know of my love of all things Oprah. I think she is an amazing woman who is a formidable force and a fascinating person to watch. Her self made wealth, influence and power is truly something to behold and her micro managed image had never dared before go anywhere near the the world of politics in such a direct and partisan manner. Yes she interviews them, yes she pushed people to make informed voting decisions, but she has never openly supported a candidate to this extent. And like it or not... when Oprah talks... people listen.

So... I wondered what would make someone of her platform and stature make such a public statement of support and go on to actively campaign for his nomination? I did a little reading and folks... at this stage... I think she's onto something.

Think about it for a moment.... President Barack Hussein Obama. On a horrendously basic and watered down level, think of the value of this man's face. Consider the hypothetical. It's November 2008. A young pakistani Muslim, too young to remember a time before the bush years, is watching television and sees that this man is the new face of America. A brown skinned man whose father was an African, who grew up in Indonesia and Hawaii, who attended a majority-Muslim school as a boy, is now the alleged enemy. If you want the crudest but most effective weapon against the demonization of America that fuels Islamist ideology, Obama's face gets close. It proves them wrong about what America is in ways no words can.

The logic behind the candicy of Barack Obama is not, in the end, about Barack Obama. It has little to do with his policy proposals, which are very close to his Democratic rivals'. It has even less to do with his ideological pedigree or legal background or rhetoric skills. Yes, as many profiles prove, he has considerable intelligence - But so do others, not least his formidably polished and practised opponent Hillary Clinton. He is, moreover, no saint. He has flaws and tics, often tired, sometimes grumpy. By record he is a surprisingly uneven campaigner. but to be honest, I have always been one to prefer people who show their true flaws rather than the ones with a well manufactured vaneer that does not entirely ring true. (Stand up Mrs Clinton....)You can see why many of his friends and admirers have urged him to wait. He could be be president in five or nine years' time - what's the rush?

But he knows, and acknowledges, that the fundamental point of his candidacy is that is happening now. Just like the theatre, in politics timing matters. And the most persuasive case for Obama has less to do with him, than the moment he is meeting. A moment of massive change. It has been a long time coming. So much has happened in America in the past seven years, let alone the past forty, that people can be forgiven for focusing on the present and the immediate future.

At its best, the Obama candicy is about ending a war - not so much the war in Iraq, which now has the momentum that will propel the occupation into the next decade - but the brewing war non violent within America. It is a war about war- about culture and religion and about race. And like it or not... this bleeds into the rest of the world. Into the UK and into Australia - who are so heavily influenced and effected by what goes on in the States. The trauma of 9/11, the war and hurricane Katrina, has tended to obscure the memory of an unprecedentedly bitter election, and its aftermath. But its legacy is still very much with us... made far worse by Bushs's approach to dealing with it. Despite losing the popular vote seven years ago, he governed as if he had won in a landslide.

With 9/11, he had a "reset moment" - a chance to reunite the country in a way that would marginalize the extreme haters and forge a national consensus. He chose not to do so. Instead - his chose to terrify and polarise his country - filling many people with paranoia. This is the critical context for the election of 2008. Of the possible candidates, Obama seems to be the one who can bridge a widening partisan gulf. It isn't about his policies as much as it is about his person. The war today matters enormously and for people who want to get beyond the battles of an older generation and face today's actual problems - Obama looks to be the man. He is the only candidate who who has been against the war from its out set - and more excitingly - against it for the right reasons.

I quote his speach from 2002 - five months before the war -

"I don't oppose all wars. And I know that in this crowd today, there is no shortage of patriots, or of patriotism. What I am opposed to is a dumb war. What I am opposed to is a rash war …

I know that even a successful war against Iraq will require a U.S. occupation of undetermined length, at undetermined cost, with undetermined consequences. I know that an invasion of Iraq without a clear rationale and without strong international support will only fan the flames of the Middle East, and encourage the worst, rather than best, impulses of the Arab world, and strengthen the recruitment arm of al-Qaeda. I am not opposed to all wars. I'm opposed to dumb wars."

He is not against the use of force - but is flexable in dealing with it. He is the among the first democrats in a generation not to be afraid of ashamed of what they actually believe, he does not smell - as some others do, of political fear.

What I also love about Obama is his approach to religion. Which is a massive part of any American political debate. He was brought up in a nonreligious home and converted to Christianity as an adult. But - he is not a "born again." His faith is a modern, intellectual christianity. A difficult balance to find in todays world that moves forward at a terrifying technological and scientific speed. One of my favorite quotes from him so far is that "faith does not mean you don't have doubts."

Now... there are some very clear reasons as to why he has called on the almighty Oprah to help him out a month before the democratic leader is elected. His weakest supporters are middle aged women and African Americans. A large number of whom are backing a white woman for president. Obama has been accused of "acting like he's white" by Jesse Jackson, that he has spent too much time trying to get white America to love him. Its a racial mine field this man is walking right now. But - with Oprah's recent and very vocal endorsement - it can be tip toed around.

"We can have a crime policy thats both tough and smart If you're convicted of a crime involving drugs, you should be punished. But lets not make the punishment for crack cocain that much more severe than powder cocaine when the real difference between the two is the skin colour of the people using them. Judges think thats wrong, Republicans think thats wrong, Democrats think thats wrong, and yet its been approved by the republican and democratic presidents because no one has been willing to brave the politics and make it right. This will end when I am president."

I like what this man is saying....

Now for all intents and purposes - a campaigning politician is all sound and fury - full of the promise of a first date. Like imaging mini breaks and couples dinner parties - Barack gives me reason to imagine a positive and exciting leader of one of the worlds most powerful countries.

There is nothing to prove that he will be the president I am dreaming of. His record in high office is space, his performances on the campaign trail are patchy, his chief rival Hillary has beaten him often with her relentless pursuit of the middle ground. At times she has even appeared more like able than the skinny, sometimes crabby and morose newcomer from Chicago. Clinton instills a sense of security along with the smiling nostalgia of her husband. The thing is that she makes more sense if you believe that times are pretty good - that the environmental, military and racial crisis are not deep ones. That the lingering trauma of the Bush presidency and the polarisation of beliefs he has left in his wake is an illusion - the the argument for Obama is not that strong. Clinton will do and a Clinton vs. Giuliani race will be the predictable end.

But I think, that greater danger lies ahead - that the choices we make now are the crucial ones. Sometimes, when the world is changing rapidly - the greater risk is caution. We have had a white house filled with four years of Bush Sr, eight years of Mr. Clinton and 8 years of Bush Jr. As Oprah says... if we keep making the same choices... nothing is ever going to change.

I am not against Hilary Clinton for president - I would love a woman to be running that government... but i have to say... in light of my recent research... I don't think she's the one. I cannot vote in this election, nor can I tell any of my friends in the USA how to think or who to vote for. But I just think... this is an exciting time... and indeed an exciting opportunity in history.

There's hope for the future friends...

And now i will get off my soap box and go back to doing what i do best... messing up my room and drunk dialing my friends.

Going Away for A Little While.

**DISCLAIMER - ALL NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT INNOCENT VICTIMS IDENTITY**


So… I thought I would drop you all a little note to let you know I will be away for a while. I have made a major decision.

After much deliberation and reflection on my life, I have decided to go back to school.

I am enrolling in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

Seriously.

Yes… I am going to be with the X-men and learn to harness my powers.

I have finally realised that I am blessed with super powers. I say “blessed”… right now they feel more like a curse, but I am remaining positive and holding firm to the belief that, once learning how to control them, I will one day use them for good instead of evil.

You see… it seems that I have powers to drive people insane. More particularly men… actually to be perfectly honest (and let’s face it… at times like these, I really should be) I have the power to turn perfectly sane men completely psychotic. And how do I do this?

By dating them.

Yes. It appears that when I date someone for any degree of time… they lose their minds. With no rhyme nor reason… without warning… they go mad.

You think I am exaggerating?

Have a look at the past seventy two hours of my life.

• WHEN GOOD BOOTY CALLS GO BAD

I had a friend… let’s call him “Ken.” Ken and I met four years ago through mutual friends and through the haze of alcohol and a nightclub – decided we liked each other. Ken and I formed a nice little agreement – what happens between no-strings-attached-friends, stays between no-strings-attached-friends. It was casual, it was every now and then and it was fine.

In recent months, our “meetings” became a little more frequent… every month or so we would meet up and everything was fine. Until last week. Ken and I had both been away on different trips and decided to meet up for a drink to catch up on each other’s lives. We chatted, we laughed, we drank and then Ken looked at me and said… “What do you think about making this more of a regular thing? You know… you and me?”

I paused…and looked at him and said… “um… yeah… if you want”

This suggestion had come from completely left field. Every one knows you never try to make a relationship out of a booty call… but he was offering me trips away in February, a date on New Years Eve… and I thought… if we take it slow… it could be nice… one day at a time.

So we arranged to meet up the following night with his mates to go and see a concert in Brixton.

I get there… we’re laughing, we’re drinking, we’re having a great time… we’re in the VIP bar hanging out… dancing…laughing. We go downstairs… we’re in the concert, we’re all hanging out… he’s telling me he cant wait to take me home… that everything is fabulous… and again I think… yeah… if we take it slow… maybe it wont be a totally train wreck.

Then he goes quiet.

For about ten minutes.

Then… out of nowhere, he turns around and says.

“No… no… this is it. We’re done. It’s over. This is as far as we go.”

Um…what?

“We’re over Amy. It’s the end of the road. You need to leave.”

Um… sorry?

“I’m feeling really uncomfortable… you have to leave. Its over, it’s done. Just go.”

Remember this is in the middle of a mosh pit at a rock concert in Brixton.

“Ken… you’re my friend… I’ve known you four years.. we’re friends… we’re chilled out… what the hell is this?”

He points to the door.

“Just leave.”

So… in total shock… I started to walk away… and then thought OH NO YOU FUCKING DON’T.

I went back into the mosh pit, grabbed his wrist and pulled him aside.

“You are being a complete psycho… I’ve known you ages… what the hell is going on.. you at least owe me some kind of explanation…I’m you’re friend”

“Amy, I don’t have the words to explain how I am feeling… we are over. You are no longer in my life. You have to leave.”

“Ken, ten minutes ago you were telling me you wanted to take me home and do all sorts of inappropriate things to me… you were going to take me away… you wanted to make this more of a regular thing… do you understand why I am confused? I have missed a beat here.”

“Amy… there are no words… just F*** OFF”

And with that… he pushed me into a crowd of people.

And perhaps in my classiest moment ever… I threw the C word at him and left.

I got outside, at 1am, in the pouring rain, in one of the most dangerous parts of London… and I burst into tears.

By some force of nature, a friend I had known four years had turned completely PSYCHO.

And then I started think… this is not the first time this has happened.

Step right up folks and welcome to the freak show… my dating history.

I swear to you that all of these stories are true…

• TURKISH DELIGHT
The Turkish bartender who assured me he was all rock and roll and that we’d have some fun and that was it…

Then… out of the blue he turned around and grabbed me by the face and whispered… while trembling…

“My love for you is terrifying… no one else will ever love you… I am consumed by it.”

The next words out of his mouth were

“Oh and by the way I am divorced and have been in jail on charges of domestic violence.”

He sat on my bedroom floor and cried for three hours when I told him I needed some space.

• THERE GOES THE GOOD CHINA
A friend of a friend had moved into town and I offered to help him get settled. We listened to music, we unpacked boxes, we cooked cheese on toast. I stayed the night – remained fully clothed – but the next morning I heard him mumbling to himself in the kitchen… “What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?” I came into the room to make sure all was ok... he threw a plate and it smashed against the wall by my head. He shouted “YOU RUINED EVERYTHING.”

I didn’t wait to find out what “everything” was.

• ICE HOCKEY MADNESS.
Well… the details of this one in are a previous blog titled “back in the sadle” on myspace.com/maidenamy – but here’s the basic idea:

Met in Starbucks – went for a drink – he was an ex ice hockey player. He called me his girlfriend after one kiss – sent me 75 text messages in one night about our future together - I asked him via text message to casually chill out – and he FLIPPED OUT – again… via text messages.

“You're a *bleep*… What a complete *bleep*… How can you treat men like this you *bleep*… You deserve to be *bleeped*…"

On and on and on they went… for three days…. Until either he got bored of my silence or his phone credit ran out… I think the last thing I heard from him was:

"You can play your mind games with the next guy you mess with… its just another notch in your bed you filthy *bleep*"

Methinks its one too many hits with the hockey stick…

• THE TERRIFYING CLOWN.
A comedian I met in Edinburgh, I thought he was sexy and funny. I gave him my number.

He texted me, we flirted – it was cute. However, upon agreeing to meet up for drink he turned around and told me he had a girlfriend and accused me of being a home wrecker who was trying to ruin his relationship.

I asked him if this was a joke… apparently it wasnt.

• THE CASTING COUCH
A wannabe big shot met I met at a party. We had common friends and he knew my ex. (Lets call the ex “Barry”) We drank, we laughed, we shared a cab home. I was not in any way interested, but he was a useful connection to have and if I could start a friendship that would be good. Apparently he had other ideas. During the ride home he felt me up whilst telling me his son was my age. To top it off, as I got out of the cab to go home (alone) he said “I bet I can F*** you like Barry did.”

Um… no old man… no you can’t.

• NOT SO ROCK AND ROLL NOW
The bass player I met with friends who got my number and started calling me despite the fact he had a girlfriend. Nothing ever happened, we lived on different sides of the planet, but when she found out he was contacting me – she dumped him. (Fair enough…) Then… a week later I get an email stating that his girlfriend is pregnant, that he could never again speak to me and that I am an evil temptress.

Ok.

• MR. BIG
A career minded man who dazzled me with the glamour of his world. He seemed perfectly normal and actually quite amazing… Infact I loved him. And probably always will.

But while he was away on a business trip my magical powers took a long distance hold and he sadly he came back yet another victim.

Yes… he hid it well, but the tell tail signs were there… I had done it again.

You see what I mean?

The evidence is clear – there is no other logical explanation to this behaviour other than I have magical powers to turn men insane.

And so it has come to this… I have no choice but to come to terms with it… and harness it. YES! I will sacrifice a settled life to rid the world of evil. I will date them, send them mad and drive them away.

Planet Earth… you are welcome.

Playing Catch Up

Ok…. So…. I know that I am a little behind in my blogging and for that I can only apologise, but when you understand what has been going on since I left Australia – you will forgive me a little.

I have never been one to do things by halves. Since I was a little girl I have lived a life of extremes, by the mantra of all or nothing.

As a child I would eat all the lollies in the bag - or I wouldn't have a single one. I would watch every episode of Degrassi Jr High - or I wouldn't turn the television on. The girl across the road would be my best friend forever, or I wouldn't speak to her.

In my teens and early twenties I would practise three instruments every day for hours, or I wouldn't touch a thing, I would drink the entire cask (yes… cask) of wine – or I wouldn't drink a drop. I would fall hopelessly in love with the boy in the rock band – or I would hang with the gay boys for months.

It seems, dear friends, that nothing has changed.

Last year I sat across a table from a virtual stranger on a first date and he asked me "what do you want to do with your life in London… why are you here?"

I rather sheepishly replied "well… um… I'd like to work for Disney again here, I really loved that… Um… I'd like to make money from my photos… that makes me pretty happy… but most of all… um… I'd like to be the artistic director of my own theatre company."

He smiled at me and said… "That's pretty ambitious… but I'd like to see you do all that."

A year to the day, and one hell of a roller coaster later… he did.

To fully explain what's going on at the moment – I need to segregate my life a little and therefore we will do this in instalments…

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you…

Amy's life with international Mickey.

In a big building in Hammersmith, on the eighth floor there is a tiny office for three people. This is Walt Disney Special Events. The people responsible for the appearances of any Disney character in the UK, EU, Arab Emirates and South Africa. These people are my bosses and colleagues. My job is what's called a character/production manager. Yes. I am Mickey Mouse's boss. Any time any of the characters (that's anyone from Donald to Dumbo) are needed for an appearane in any of our areas, someone has to go with them. A chaperone if you will. That someone, is me. I make sure that Mickey is looked after, that his performance is Disney approved and that all magical secrets are kept exactly that. A secret. They call me… defender of the magic.

Here's how is works…. The phone rings, they ask if I am available for work on certain dates, I say yes, I grab some gigantic bags, get on a plane, go somewhere completely random, do the job, come home, put back the bags back and then do it all over again.

Sounds simple? Um…no. Since when is anything in my life ever simple? Disney, as a company is international – a gobal sized corporation. But take it from me… when you get down to it, to the nitty gritty – when you are on the ground in Munich with 400 homeless children running at a giant bear screaming GUTTEN TAG BALOO – it aint always so magical. Europe – on a whole – does not subscribe to the highly Americanised ideals of the magic kingdom. So, negotiating the appearance of a blue bear and a monkey, or a yellow bear and a tiger, or two mice, or a duck and a dog…. You'd be amazed at the arguments you go through…. Here are a snippets at the things I have found myself saying:

• "I'm sorry mate, but Captain Hook is not coming to meet Thandie Newton until he gets his four bottles of water and a lock on his dressing room – you agreed to this contract and you will uphold that agreement."
• "No – Baloo cannot have his picture taken with the mayor of Munich because all Disney characters are non partisan, non political figures. To show a partial preference to any party would be a complete breach of Disney Corporation guidelines, which you have already been made aware of and will agree to wether you like it or not."

• "No – the actual stars of High School Musical are not here"

• "Um… no… I am truly sorry – but Mickey Mouse is global superstar – he does not get changed in a toilet."

• "NEIN – DAS IS NICHT GUT"

• "No – the actual stars of High School Musical are not here"

• "How do I say hello and no in Swedish?… oh… its just hi and no… ok"

• "No…I am sorry, Whinne the Poo does not know Nemo – Disney characers only know acknowledge the existence of characters within the realms of their own magical kingdom – Nemo doesn't live in the hundred acre wood and Winnie the Poo can't swim."

• "Yes, I know Zac Effron… No he isn't here."

• "Um… can we remove all the High School Musical Merchandise with a certain cast member's face on it? His picture's approval has been revoked from the Disney Store and if its on site when he gets here – its not going to be pretty"

• "Excuse me, Andrew Lloyd Webber – Could you stand a little to the left for the press? They want the shot of you and Mickey."

• "Oh my God Minnie it's JASON DONOVAN"

• "I have no comment on the naked pictures of the stars of High School Musical"

• "I don't care if he is a famous TV star in Romania, unless he gets his butt to rehearsal in three minutes he will not be performing with goofy and I will not be feeling very bloody magical."

I know its ridiculous… defender of the magic, subscribing so faithfully to a multi national corporation - but you know what? I wake up in the morning and I am excited to go to work… and proud of what I do.

And that… makes a very big difference to my life.