Insight

Dear Corks,

I’ve decided as I can’t write you another story, I’m going to do something different. This letter is all about how weird I am! It’s my way of getting you to admit your weirdness back! *grin*

You know how every body has got really strange things that they do. My mum has a thing about wet cutlery. It drives her nuts if we wash the dishes and don’t dry the cutlery straight away. Apparently it leaves waters pots on her delicate forks and knives. Hmmm.

G has this thing about planning. The idea of doing something spontaneous seems completely foreign to him. I rang him one day and said that I had planned for us to go away that evening for a nice weekend in the country. It took me hours to convince him. In the end he had such a great time, but admitted that it was rather stressful for him to just up and go. He says he loves that I make him do spontaneous things as each time he does he realises just how much fun it is.

Me, well I have a few strange habits.

I can’t stand making plans like ‘oh lets hook up next week for a drink’ If I make this plan on Monday, I am almost certain to cancel it by Tuesday. I have no idea why I do that, but plans for meetings that have not reason to them other than just to catch up should always be spontaneous in my mind.

I dust my feet before I get into bed. My mum used to make us do it when we were little. If you’re guessing she had a compulsive cleanliness nature, you’d be right. It has become a habit I can’t break and I make G do it too now. *raised eyebrows*

I scoff food down like it could be my last meal. Sometimes I eat so fast I actually choke because I try to inhale and swallow food at the same time. It is really embarrassing. Even when I try it is impossible for me to eat slowly. When it happens I go all red with embarrassment and pretend that I am choking on a chilli

When I am sad I write. When I am happy, I forget how.

I hate my hands and my feet. I hate my bum and my legs too, but not nearly as much as my hands and feet.

My favourite type of food is seafood, but if I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life it would be Spaghetti Bolognaise. (Go figure)

I need to be in control. If I’m not I have mini anxiety attacks. I’ll tell you that we can do whatever you want and then when you suggest something I’ll make my suggestion and very subtly change your mind. I don’t realise I am doing it until I get my way. (That’s evil isn’t it? *cringe*)

In the face of disaster I can build a brick shelter and cook a feast on a can of beans. In normal every day life I can barely tie my shoelaces.

I love tomatoes with onions and salt otherwise I hate them!

I can’t stand Roast chicken, I’ll eat it, but I hate it. On the other hand I love any chicken that has been cooked with a sauce ie: Curry, Chinese, etc..

I don’t like the smell of Roast Pork. It reminds me of when we ate it in the south pacific. Sometimes they would slaughter them and accidentally pierce the bladder. Then all the meat would smell like urine. It put me off pork. I like pork chops though.

If someone is walking behind me I’ll cross the road just to get them away from me. I hate strangers walking behind me, it makes me nervous.

I suffer from mild claustrophobia. When it happens I start sweating and can’t breathe properly. Then I start running in any direction I think there may be space.

I have an insane love of dogs. G made the mistake of taking me to the Battersea dogs home. You can imagine what happened.

My recent addiction is chilli. I smother everything in it of late. Also I love salt. There is nothing yummier than sour mango and salt.

When I left home to come back to London, I cried most for my little dog I left behind. Her name is Winnie and she is a Maltese terrier. Whenever I ring home, my mum puts her on the phone! (Yep, it gets weirder). When I sing, she sings with me. You can imagine that it’s no platinum album.

I know I have found the man I want to spend the rest of my life with because he dusts his feet for me and thinks its funny, he loves food as much as I do, he is protective when I get claustrophobic, he gives me all the chillies on his plate, he points out dogs to me on the street, he doesn’t want me to get a Maltese Terrier because it would be like replacing Winnie, he tries to remember all my strange food dislikes, I barely write anymore because I am so happy that I'm breathing on my own, and he lets me take control when I need to.

I know I love him because I don’t try and subtly get things to go my way all the time, (only sometimes) I wake up smiling and go to sleep smiling, I do the bum dance for him and he thinks its funny and I am not embarrassed that he’s seen it, after my shower in the morning I race back in the room and nose dive back into bed with a silly grin, I talk like a baby (that is worse than the bum dance) and I am always excited when I see him.

Wait, I have more. Actually, I found this in my in-box from Zman ages and ages ago. You read and then you fill it out and send it back to me.

Ok, I am cringing... but I said I would send the true answers...

1. Which CD is in your CD player right now?

Coldplay

2. Sweet or Savoury

Savoury

3. What is the first thing you notice about someone you're attracted to

The way they move, their smile, their eyes.

4. How old where you when you went on your first date and where

14 - swimming at the local pool. Then he tried to mop my face with his tongue. I still have nightmares.

5. Most disastrous night out with a date

Melbourne. I was 17. We went to Bilboard nightclub. As we walked in I tripped on the top stair and tumbled all the way to the bottom. Aside from the sheer embarrassment and physical pain I was in, I broke the heel off my boot and had to spend the rest of the night limping around. I stuck it out, after which we went for hot dogs. As I bit into the hot dog it squirted tomato sauce and mustard all down my front. I'm all class!

6. How would your best friend describe you

Like an emotional cocktail. Tasteful, intriguing, warms you from the inside and if you're not careful you could find yourself dizzy and intoxicated with too much of a good thing. he he

7. What makes you cry

The little things. A letter, a smile, lingering touch, mournful eyes, masked pain, suffering, the underdog, the struggle, the flinch, the expression that was not meant to be seen.

8. Most inspirational person

Mother Theresa and Mum

9. What is it in people that draws you to them

Their laughter. Their love of life. That their cup is half full and never half empty.

10. Would you throw punches or walk away

Anger management... hmmm. I'd lilke to say I would walk away, but in the past I haven't. If it is aimed at me I can walk away, but if someone I love is being treated badly, attacked, etc... I'm like a bull at a gate with a red rag.

11. Greatest fear that shakes you from the inside out

Loss.

12. Mortality or immortality and why

Mortality. I don't want to be left behind. I would imagine immortality would be like rice paper. You age from the inside out until you feel stretched and dry and papery and translucent.

13. If you were being watched what would someone see.

When alone, I have a bad habit of writing on everything. Napkins, receipts... once even toilet paper.

14. What's missing?

Home - my family!

15. What would someone do to melt you from the inside

Run me a warm bath, fill the bathroom with candles and soft music, and while I am languishing in the tub, play with my hair and talk to me about everything and nothing. Ahhh pure indulgence. Or just stroke my hair - it's the closest thing to heaven.

16. Swim with sharks or dolphins

Dolphins

17. If at the cross roads you took a different path, where would you be now?

I'd be a forensic pathologist

18. What is the one thing (tangible or non tangible) that if you gave it up would hurt the most.

My writing - it's how I breathe.

19. Which movie would you star in

Gorillas in the mist - as Sigourney of course or flashdance cause she is hot!!!! I'm torn between sensitive do-gooder and man-eating dancing queen.

20. What is one thing your friends probably don't know about you

I found myself on the streets for a time.

Wow, that was a long letter. Now you have to do your answers and mail them back.

Big kiss and all my love.

The Market

It’s hot. The market place is heaving with people some selling their wares, others bargaining for the best price and many milling about waiting for the perfect opportunity to pick a pocket.

Mum is busy arguing over the price of kau kau (sweet potato).

‘50 toea for 5’ she says

The lady agrees and my mother nudges me for a plastic bag to pile her successful barter into.

It’s humid. I swat a fly away from my face, stamp my foot and fan myself by rapidly pulling my t-shirt in and out. I have a love/hate relationship with the market. It’s so busy that after a while I always feel myself becoming claustrophobic, but I love the colours and at some point my mother always gives me 1 kina to go and buy the things I want. Nuts, Lau Laus, Guavas and sour mangoes. Sometimes the ladies sell rascal bands and I collect these with a passion. They are expensive at 15 toea each, but I love the way they look on my wrist. They are made of black rubber and used to line the mouths of 80 gallon drums. It’s amazing how resourceful you can be when the only jewellery to buy comes from a petrol drum.

We walk past more stalls and I flank my mother making sure her bag is between us. As we stroll through the market I look out over the fence and see our car. It has become a habit of mine to check on our car. It is our only escape route in the event something dangerous like a riot or fight kicks off.

As my eyes scan over the market place and back to the car, I see two men trying to break into it. I’m not sure I’m seeing right, so I cover my eyes and squint harder in their direction. I’m right, they’re trying to get in.

I throw the bags at my mother and yell

‘They’re trying too break into the f**king car again Mum’.

She looks, but before she can say anything I’m running, jumping over bags of potatoes and pushing past women haggling over fruit and vegetables. I scream,

‘Hey, hey you f**ks!’

I can hear my mother yelling from behind me, she’s trying to chase me with all her purchases. She wants to stop me.

‘Hey, what the f**k do you fucking c**ts think you’re doing. Get the f**k away from my car’. I’m so angry I can feel my body shaking and the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I race past the car. I have to run the length of the fence to get out the gate and then double back to the car. They’ve seen me coming and they back away from the car slightly, pretending they’re only looking at it.

I barrel around and as I get within metres of the car, sensibility kicks in and I’m wondering what the fuck I am doing, but it’s too late now. I let loose a tirade of foul language and square up to a man that is twice as tall and twice as wide as me and push him away from the car.

‘You f**king thieving bastards. This is my car, these are my things. F**K YOU! Every f**king week you bastards break into our car and steal our things. F**K OFF!’ Kai Kai Kun u! (this is the nastiest pieces of pidgin I know. Kai Kai means eat and if you put a t on the end of the kun, you’ll get what it means).

He grins at me through Beetlenut stained teeth.

‘Watch your mouth half caste’ (he says this in pidgin – our dialogue apart from the f**ks is all in pidgin). ‘or I’ll cut your tongue out’

‘Really I say’. It looks stupid, but I poke my tongue out at him anyway

‘go ahead'.

I’ve grown bold because I notice the police station behind me and the commotion has drawn a crowd. One of the officers comes to the door to have a look. He doesn’t do much more. They don’t like mixed raced people. They don’t like white people, but they don’t like mixed raced people either.

He starts to walk away.

‘Bastards’ I say

He turns back and whispers low enough for both of us to hear.

‘I’ll be back for you little girl, just you wait’

My mother has caught up to me just as he’s walking away. She doesn’t hear what he says and I am thankful. She glares at him and pulls the finger, which makes me want to laugh hysterically. Mum is Catholic, she barely ever swears and when she pulls the finger it looks comical. Not a firm finger up, but a slightly bent one like she is hoping God won’t see her doing it.

I tell my mother to get in the car. I’m 14, but in situations like this I become the boss. It’s been that way for a while now. I'm angry, infact I'm always angry and anger has a way of making you seem older and in control. I rev the engine and scream out of the car park nearly running a couple of men over.

‘Bastards, the lot of you, f**king thieving bastards’.

Mum puts her seatbelt on and we drive for a few moments in angry silence. In my head I am still swearing. We both feel violated. She’s dark skinned and I am mixed raced and together it feels like we don’t belong in either world. Instead we’re robbed by the people we feel most akin to.

‘I forgot to buy your fathers spinach’ she says


‘Fuck the spinach’


She clips me over the ear and tells me to watch my mouth. She’s the mum again and I’m the child and we file what just happened amongst all of the other things and forget about it.