I’m just writing a very quick post to say I’m going back to London today. I’ve had a good time here despite frustrations with parents and others. It’ll be good to come back though. A text me last night and said he’s ordered a table at the Italian restaurant we had our very first date at. Tomorrow is my job interview, so hopefully I’ll have some hot sex and media to report on tomorrow!
My blindness is not something I write very exclusively about simply because it’s not really very important. It has shaped my identity, but it’s only a small part of what has made me who I am today. I do believe I’ve experienced a few things I otherwise wouldn’t because of it, such as being a youth delegate for Norway in a youth hearing in the EU parliament. I do consider myself to be one of the lucky blindies. I’ve had parents who’ve raised me well swell as mum and dad2. I’ve always played in the streets like other children, I got involved with fights in the school playgrounds and I cycled on my own. Now I am a very ordinary young woman getting drunk, caring about make-up and the way I look, caring about my flat, cleaning, cooking, making love, the list just goes on. The only times I see my blindness as a problem however and the only times I wish I could see is when someone has the nerve to tell me it limits me in any kind of way, which I believe it doesn’t, and when my mum tells me everything which is wrong about me. Let’s take my mum first. I have to prepare mentally a few days before I am about to see her. Mum did raise me well alright, but with her little baby girl being blind, she thinks it’s easier to shape me into her ideal daughter. I know how mum wants me to look. Nice and stylish, but classic. I dress like that most of the time. It suits me and many people tell me I’m fashionable, so I’m not worried about looking weird. Then my hair. It has to be in a certain way, not too short, not too long, not too straight and not too curly. Then my body. Have I put on weight since I last saw her? All this is very stressing, but it’s worth it. The more “perfect” she thinks I look, the less criticism I’m going to receive when I get home. For example, I was comfort eating in my 1st year at uni. I weighed about 60 kg when I got home which isn’t fat, but more than I’d weighed before. The first thing my mum said when she saw me was, “Hi Angel, you’ve been eating lots of good food this year haven’t you?” I remember going to bed that night crying, disappointed in the welcome I received after six months of not seeing each other.
I thought I was well prepared for when I got home this time. I know the lack of exercising hadn’t done me any good in terms of my figure, although I was at least 5 kg less, I think that 12 lb or something, or about 2 stone, than when I came home after 1st year of uni. My hair I thought looked good and it was nice and shiny after the black hair products A has gotten me into using. I made sure it didn’t look greasy and assuming that five different people wouldn’t lie to me, especially not TG who laughs at people looking just a bit stupid. I thought my clothes were ok and I was all settled to go back. “What have you done to your hair?” was the very first thing she asked me. “It looks horribly dirty.” Then both she and dad who’s very over weight, my dad that is, said they noticed I’d put on weight and that I needed the exercise. I was frankly quite hurt. I really didn’t think different people lied to me about my hair, and I also didn’t think A lied to me when he said I have a gorgeous figure. Then, there are little things such as how I do the dishes, how I put them back in, how I lay the table. Things aren’t to mum’s liking. She even critiqued the mooncup. I’m sure she’s gonna try to get me back to using tampons again, but sorry mum, that aint happening! She makes me tired constantly saying these little things. She even tells me how to eat. “Now you can take another bite, now, put the fork down. Sit back and chew. Enjoy the food.” My blindness is caused by my optic nerve being detached from my brain. This means I can’t see any light or darkness. A person with absolutely no perception doesn’t have the advantages of being able to orientate in a room by focusing on sources of light. I use echo location a fair amount plus I have developed quite good mobility skills over the years. Mum however, still likes comparing me to somebody who can see light. “She’s much better orientating than you,” she said once when I had a friend over who had good light perception and who can work out shapes and shadows. I pointed out that the criticism wasn’t fair as she had those advantages and said that she was lucky that I did as well as I did without any fucking perception. She replied by saying, “I know that having light perception gives you some advantage” a reply that frankly made no sense whatsoever.
I’m writing all this now because it’s been bottling up inside me during the time I’ve spent with her. I moaned to Mad, my long lost friend who’s blind too. Like me, she has no light perception. She’s a semi celebrity in Norway. Her dad was a famous jockey when he lived and she lost her sight in a traffic accident. She, like me is very independent. She’s married, has a little girl and a second child on the way. She’s a marvellous cook and keeps her house clean. She could tell me that her mum was exactly like mum. And when she asked her mum: “Look, everyone’s telling me things look clean and nice. I’ve even had compliments on clothes and things in the house. Then you are the only one coming in telling me it’s not good enough. Shall I trust you or them?” Not very well written, but I hope you get the gist. Her mum answers: “Well, I’m your mother and I want the best for you.” This is just like mum and I. I’m just wondering why they are like that. Do they wanna break us in some kind of way? Maybe it’s the mother thing about feeling not needed after kids have grown up and trying to make us depending on them again? I don’t know. I just know it hurts me and it shouldn’t and I should rise above it, but it’s hard.
We watched a documentary last week about Ben Underwood. The Californian teenager with the fine echo location skills. We = mum, dad and I. At first I hated the documentary. Of course the boy was clever. He skated and cycled around just using echo location and not anything like a cane when he was walking around. “Ben has an independence other blind people can only dream of” the comment woman said at least twice. I wanted to get up and punch the screen. Not that that would have helped, the wide screen TV would be broken and my parents would have been fuming. I know that although my echo location skills might not be as fine as Ben’s, they are still pretty good and I can hear trees, cars, walls and lamp posts, but I use a cane which made me feel less able than him. I sat there knowing both mum and dad thinking “Wish our daughter could be like that.” I felt a little better though when Ben’s arrogance finally made him lose track of where he was and he got a blind mobility teacher to train his echo location skills further, but also teach him how to use a cane. At first Ben didn’t want to hear of it and thought he was champion of the world. He behaved like a little bugger until at the end of the documentary he did start to use a cane. It was good to see blindies like me who were some of the worlds most independent and efficient with mobility use a cane and it made me feel slightly better.
Then, the society. They have so many misconceptions and they think it’s ok to talk to me any time of day just because I’m blind. Too tired to write about that now though, so will continue tomorrow. It feels good to write all this down.
I said I loved Norway when it’s glittering white with snow before and at Christmas time. I also love Norway during the summer. In fact in that season, I think Norway is one of the world’s most beautiful countries. I hate it the rest of the year though, like now. It’s supposed to be spring and the flowers are supposed to peak out from the dirty melting snow. The suns supposed to shine and the temperature’s supposed to be above 0. People are supposed to walk around happily smiling to strangers and sit down for the first out door beer. Wrapped in a thick jacket perhaps, but still let the sun caress their face while they sip their cold drink. I wish! Temperature is at least -2 and the roads are so icy you can’t walk without looking like a 90 year old great grandma with a hip problem! The only entertainment is staying inside someone’s house and drink coffee. Alcohol’s too expensive, *I don’t drink during the day anyway and not on a weeknight really) going out to eat is out of the question because it’s too expensive and waiters look at you if you order a cocktail like San Francisco Fling or Singapore Sling. Well, I was out eating yesterday at TGI Fridays where they happen to have these cocktails because the majority of the staff is Aussies. You actually have to speak English in there which is kind of cool. Anyway, having ordered them, the waiter asked how the heck I knew about them as they don’t sell them in Norway. Knowing the recipes though, they made them especially for me and Len since they’re quite popular in Australia. The food’s expensive too. You can’t get a carton of fresh orange juice for less than £1.50! And this is the country I might be moving back to in a few months?
It’s not fair on poor Norway to curse it like this, but the thought of perhaps having to move just makes me depressed. I’m gonna miss the urban city life, the eating out, the cheap drinks and calling drinks in London cheap just goes to show how expensive Norway is. I’m gonna miss my friends, all the shops and foods they don’t have in England and I can’t bare the thought of having to move away from A now that things might be developing in a positive direction. This is all due to me being stubborn though. If only I was the average graduate interested in charity work, accounting or investment banking, but God didn’t want it that way. I want to be a journalist, a full time one and it does look like I have a much better chance of getting that in Norway, at present anyway. I just pray I get the job I’m going in for an interview for on Friday! If nothing else, it gives me another 7 or 8 months to start hating London so much I might just belonging to go back. My Norwegian contacts respect the organization I’m going to get interviewed by on Friday and said that I should take it if I got it as it is longer than the summer contracts I will get here, and because other opportunities inevitably will come up next year. Ah well, I guess all can do is, if I don’t get the job, cross that bridge when it comes to it and as I believed I’ve said before, if it’s meant to be between me and A, it will be sorted out. We might perhaps both go to Norway for a bit and then go back to the UK, or somewhere else. I think it’s just a matter for me to settle in the trade, get my name known to the right people and then opportunities will open elsewhere. I will also be one of the first blind journalists in Norway, something I’m not going to be too keen on as it will be me educating them on how I work. In the UK I know quite a few who have walked the path before me. You might think being the first one would be a challenge I would enjoy. Having perhaps read my blog for a while, you know that I’m not the kind of person to back off from a challenge, but I was the first blind student in all my schools and my university, so I’ve always been their little testing animal If it comes to a point very soon that I have to move back, I’ll probably, over time, while building up yet another network and getting settled in a job etc. learn to appreciate things about Norway.
I had a nice stay at the cottage. It was nice to see our friends again and we were eating, drinking and talking non stop. The mother in the family told us that she’s known Martine Vik Magnussen, the Norwegian student who got killed in London just before Easter. Martine had worked in the same clothes shop as her during the uni holidays and apparently, she’s a lovely girl. Ellen, the mother had a few texts Martine had sent her, such as Merry Christmas etc. that she has decided to keep after her death.
Yesterday it was back on the exercise bike after all that lovely food. I am starting to get happy with my body shape, but I need another month or so to be truly happy. Afterwards, I went to see Len at her ex’s place. I didn’t know he was her ex, so when he told me he’d married a Romanian guy, I got quite shocked. I knew he was bi, so that it was a man didn’t shock me, just the fact that he’d married while I thought him and Len were going out. After that, Len and I headed to TGI’s were we were gonna meet her very sexy Greek cousin, but he didn’t turn up due to damaging his knee while skiing earlier. It wasn’t serious, but he had to get it fixed immediately. We still had a good evening though.
Happy Birthday to me folks! Also, a very happy new year to the Iranians and a happy mother’s day for the Arab women blessed with Children. Happy women’s day to all Nigerian women, make sure you take over that country!
So it’s my 23rd birthday, and for the first time in four years, I’m spending it at home. Mum is downstairs baking a cake for me and I’m soon gonna go out to lunch with my cousin Irene. After that I believe I’ll have a quiet day, dinner with my family and little else, but I’m happy with that.
Apart from being totally lost in one of the better crime novels I’ve ever read, Snømannen, or The snowman by Jo Nesbø, I have undergone a form of torture best known as exercising. As I’ve mentioned previously, I’m not very happy with not having the means to do a decent work out. I find gyms too expensive and although I am one of the more independent blind people I know, I can’t really go for a random run in the park unless there has been a little bit of route planning before hand. I don’t have a dedicated running partner either, so every day; I have dragged myself out with mum and our neighbour VV, twice a day for a power walk. Once in the morning and once in the evening. I love to feel my body slowly shaping up again, but I am aching all over. Last night there was a heavy snowfall, so I decided to stay inside today and had a long ride on our exercise bike instead. I weigh around 55 kg, approximately 125 lb, and wanna lose 3/5 kg, but don’t ask me how many lb that is. Anyway, it’s not really that interesting to the general public how much I weigh. I’m not over weight though, not by any stretch of the imagination as I’m a European size 34, UK size 8 and US size 4. It’s got more to do with body shape than going down a size which I won’t anyway. Oh my god, I sound like an obsessive, but then maybe I am. I’m so glad I got my step back in London now so that I can keep up whatever fitness I get while here.
Tomorrow we are gonna go stay with some family friends we’ve known since just after I was born. They have a luxurious cottage in the mountains and they are very nice people. They have two daughters, but only the eldest, who’s 3 years older than me will be there. I believe it will be a lot of fancy foods and wines, their speciality and probably a lot of exercising, walking in the mountains in snow. Most Norwegian families with respect for themselves have either got a cottage, a caravan, a boat or two or three of the above mentioned. We’ve got none, but that doesn’t really bother me as we rent these things should we want them and my family2 have a lovely cottage.
I didn’t get that many presents today. Dad’s gonna by me a GPS, which’s gonna give me so much independence and I got a few things from my London friends. The best thing though is, Out of all the texts I’ve received today wishing me a great day, and A sent the first one!
I’m enjoying a break away from London, but I’m a little scared too. I’m worried KS is somehow going to find out about me and A and that I’m going to come back to a disaster which I really don’t think I can handle now. I just hope and pray that it will be all ok when I get back, that A and I are going for the weekend away we have been talking about. That A still wanna see me and possibly be with me!
Let me start with my birthday dinner. It all started like it usually does when my friends and I are having a get together, in other words, everyone being late. In this case two people, E and R were on time and I felt bad letting them wait a Leicester square on there own, so I decided to go ahead from Hammersmith where TG, KS and I were waiting for MM. I just thought it better to wait with my own guests. I arrived in Leicester square half an hour after the planned time, but had already informed E and R that I was going to be delayed so they didn’t stand around waiting. Anyway, KS, who didn’t see that some people were with me when they finally arrived at Leicester square had a go at me for being impatient, but shut up quickly when I introduced him to e and R.
When everyone had arrived, we went to pizza express. It was 8 of us. A missing. I tried calling him repeatedly remembering him saying that he was going to come, but he did not answer his phone. I gave up after a while thinking he probably had a good reason for not being there, but was very angry because he didn’t have the decency to call and tell me he couldn’t make it.
The dinner went well. You know what it’s like when you bring a few of your different friends together? Them all knowing you, but you not knowing if they will get on with each other? They all did, and the conversation was lively and friendly. The food was excellent. I had a pizza with Italian sausage, and olives. It was after dinner when the drama began. E and R had left and back in the restaurant were KS, TG, M, MM’s friend H, GH, a colleague from the restaurant and sincerely yours. We were about to leave and we’d all had a few drinks which is quite normal for a birthday dinner. KS was being physical. Wrapping one arm around me when we were talking and calling me hunny, baby and all those names. I didn’t feel comfortable with this, but didn’t say anything as I was gonna go with TG and GH to the restaurant anyway and we were gonna go clubbing from there. TG was gonna say by to her boyfriend who was going on holiday. For reasons I’m not quite sure of, I think it was because MM went the wrong way from the restaurant and TG didn’t wanna wait around, TG and GH left rather quickly and I was stuck with H, MM and KS. Now I was really starting to feel uncomfortable about the fact that KS was holding me and I took a step back to which he responded by stepping after me. I said politely that I really needed my own physical space and could he please give that to me? Not being on very good terms with my ex at the moment I very soon lost patience with him. I had repeated myself a few times and I was starting to get annoyed by his soppy behaviour. As I’ve mentioned before, I am not the most pleasant person to be around when I’m angry. A few drinks and the fact that the person my anger was aimed at was my ex didn’t make it any better. I can’t quite remember what I said, but I did say a few things that made KS switch. I have never seen anyone that mad in my entire life. I thought for a second he was going to kill me with his bare hands, but instead he chose to almost break the glass wall of the building we were leaning up against. MM had to calm him down and H had to assure me that he wasn’t gonna harm me in any way. A thing KS also had done to make me angry was to state that all Jamaican guys are players and he added, even guys like A.
After KS had calmed down from calling me lovely names like S L U T and telling everyone who cared to listen how I was “So below his league” and after I felt assured nothing was going to happen, we got on the tube. I must admit I wasn’t exactly at my best behaviour repeating how bloody unfair it was that TG had disappeared like that and how I wanted to go clubbing since it was my birthday dinner. I was thinking about how much fun TG probably had clubbing with our French colleagues. At Hammersmith things didn’t go so well between me and MM. MM bluntly told me how I was all wrong and KS was all right in what had happened, since I hurt him, he had the right to react the way he did. However, since I didn’t let him hold me and talk to me like I was still his GF, I didn’t have the right to tell him off. Well, that’s at least how I saw it then. MM also managed to start a disability related discussion and got pissed off with me when I said that only the disabled people who could present themselves well should be let out in the public and left, but he gave me a hug, so we might still be friends. Obviously I didn’t mean that, but my relationship to everything disability related is rather complex. We met TG and Twin A when H Ks and I got to the bust stop to go home. TG hadn’t been out clubbing because she was in a bad mood. Still sulking because I had to go home, I got on the bus, next to Ks who had apologized but still annoyed me. I had apologized to him as well. The good thing was, when I came home I fell asleep almost straight away. I’ll just focus on that first part of the night when I think back, because that was a good one.
The next day, I finally got hold of A. He apologized for not having contacted me, but said he had changed his mind last minute as KS was gonna be there and he didn’t feel comfortable. I was cool with that, but did tell him to never ignore me like that again and at least leave a message or phone call if he couldn’t or wouldn’t keep an appointment. He made up for it though. That evening, he picked me up in a cab and we went for a 6 or 7 or something courses Chinese meal which was delicious. We had wine and after the meal he came and sat next to me in the restaurant as opposed to opposite me which was what he had done all that night. We were full after the crispy duck, sizzling beef, sweet and sour chicken, special fried rice, crispy seaweed, prone crackers, and all the other dishes, so he just sat there holding me and giving me compliments. In order not to be seen together by KS or his brother, we had to say goodbye to each other at the bus stop near where I live and the cab took me to my gate.
Yesterday was the last day before I was travelling to Norway for my Easter break. I worked, luckily only one sitting, because one of the other waiters managed to spill red wine all over the starters I was gonna give out so I was very delayed. When I got home, A came around to say goodbye. We sat on my bed holding each other and talking. Both of us wanted to make love, but decided to wait till I came back to make it more special. He was wearing a golden necklaisse that night. It was thick and heavy with an Egyptian styled cross dangling from it. The kind of crosses which are circular on top. He had had this especially made for himself, so on the cross was a figure of Christ. It was beautiful and he honoured me by letting me try it on. The gold was cool and heavy around my neck. I pressed the cross against my heart, knowing that this was a piece of jewellery he valued a lot.
This morning I had to get at 04.30. After confirming that the taxi I had ordered wasn’t going to arrive, I phoned another company, and by 05.30 I had a cab. I got to Liverpool street station before the morning rush hour began and got to Stanstead an hour before my flight was due to depart. Perfect timing. Being at home is nice, although I always have mixed feelings about seeing my mum. She gives me the feeling of being a failure, because I don’t do things exactly her way. I buy the wrong food brands, soap brands, washing up liquid brands etc. And she loves finding things to criticize me for, my hair, my clothes, you name it. I really should get used to it, but it gets to me every time. Ah well, in 9 days, she’ll have shaped me back to who she wants me to be and it will only take a few days to become myself again when I get back to London.
On a light note, a large media company is interested in me and I’m having a job interview in 10 days. I don’t wanna hope so much this time in case I get disappointed. It’s for a communications assistant role.
I’ve just been on a wonderful date with A. We went to this Chinese place and had so much food we had to ask for a take-away as we didn’t wanna let that delicious food go to waste. We had such a greattime together and, we were holding hands! We’ve not done that before, so it felt great!
Yesterday was interesting, but I’m so full and tired that I don’t have energy to write the full story now. I’m justfeeling great and happy and admired right now! Dear God, please let it work out with me and A please!
I’ve been really angry for the last few days for several reasons. The main one was because I was deeply insulted yesterday by someone who thinks he’s so much better than the rest of the world just because he’s got money and an accent which is so posh it’s surreal! Basically, he works for this company helping young visually impaired graduates finding work. Yesterday he asked me to write a fund raising article for them in an hour. With absolutely no information, and not much time to find anything, let alone without any knowledge of how to convince people to give you money I sat down with my task. I’ve written case studies for charities before, but that’s a little bit different although case studies often serve the same purpose. I didn’t feel confident at all, and therefore concentrated a lot more on the language rather than the words. Surprisingly enough, (not) it turned out horrible and Posh bastard sat there for an eternity telling me how bad my writing skills were and that with my poor English, I could just dream of ever getting a top job in a newspaper or other well known publication. When I wrote my first ever news article in my first ever print journalism workshop at uni, the tutor told me my writing was shite. Obviously, being 19 and thinking I was the best writer in the world, well, not quite, but you know what I mean, I wasn’t happy to hear that. Was an alcoholised grumpy old Scot telling me I couldn’t write? Well, I had to prove him wrong didn’t I? Basically that comment put me in place. I realised I wasn’t the world’s new George Orwell or John Pilger, at least not unless I accepted that fact and started working my way up from where I was. Without being big headed I dare say my writing skills aren’t that horrible. The magazine I handed in piece to a couple of weeks ago has already asked for more and I’ve released articles elsewhere as well. I’m also due to do some freelance work for another magazine. Don’t you think the magazines I’ve written for would turn me down had my English skills been that poor? I guess I can improve, but my English is bloody fucking good considering it’s not my first language, although it feels like it now since I speak it all the time. I wasn’t gonna sit there and receive unfair criticism, but being the way I am when I get angry, the first words that popped out of me were,” Well I’d rather speak and write the way I do now than having your horrendous posh accent which sounds ridiculouss anyway.” I know, not the most thought through and grown-up answer I could have come with, but the prick laughed and said, “Oh, good, she’s fighting back,” to which I just sat there fists clenched under the table. “Anyway, he continued this is very bad, well; let me correct myself, not very bad, just bad. And you are going to get fired if you write like this in a newspaper. You have to learn to take bad criticism.” Do I have to accept people talking like this to me? Someone who doesn’t even know me that well and who slags off everyone anyway? I can take a bit of criticism. I’ve had work I’ve been proud of torn up and chucked out the window before. It’s not like I can’t take it, but usually it has been more constructive than what PBP, posh bastard prick came out with yesterday. I chose not to respond to the last little lecture, knowing that I’d either end up hitting him, or break something in the room. When I get angry, it doesn’t last more than a few minutes and I usually forget why I was angry once it’s over, but the intensity of my anger is scary even to me. In the few minutes I am angry, I better not talk or interact with anyone in any way, because I always say offensive things I don’t mean which can hurt others. I can also get physical, but not towards people. When I was a child for example. I used to throw my toys around my room when I got angry, but I’ve more or less learned to control my physical anger now and try to go for a walk or something in stead to wear it off.
The other times I’ve been angry this week, have been connected to A. Him and have sat down and talked about where we want things to go. Basically, we wanna get to know each other as well as possible, each others good and bad sides before we consider ourselves a couple. Something I am impatient about, but deep down I think it’s very sensible if the relationship should have a chance of lasting. But the process will inevitably be very hard emotionally. A being very tired the other day, said to me that he could see me and twin a get together which really hurt me. After saying that “Haha, that’s not a very funny joke,” and after him repeating it and saying, “yes, it’s true I really can se it,” I got one of my bad angry fits and said I’d never go out with someone who was 20 years my senior, regularly had a cock up his bum hole from his gay lover and who was a twisted n!gg3r! The last word I never use, ever ever ever. I think its degrading black people and the majority of my friends in London are black. I guess I just said it to get my point across properly. Anyway, a wasn’t happy I’d used that word and after a very heated discussion he said sorry and that he was just tired. The next day he said what he said had hurt him too. Writing it all down, I am beginning to think his idea was sensible. Let’s clear disagreements to see if we can work.
On a much lighter note, I’m having my birthday dinner tonight. My actual birthday is on the 21st of this month, but it’s Good Friday plus I’m gonna be in Norway, so decided to have it today. We’re gonna be 8 people, hopefully a couple more will come, but it will be a small nice party I think. MM was so kind and booked a table at a restaurant in Leicester Square. I’m quite sad a couple of friends of mine couldn’t make it due to other engagements, but I know they would have been there if they could. Afterwards, I hope to go clubbing since I haven’t been in ages! I have a feeling it’s gonna be a good night!!
I wanna say that I’m in love, but I wanna be careful saying things too quickly in case things will go wrong. I can say though, that I am falling madly. It’s slowly and controlled though to the extent falling madly for somebody can be slow and controlled. I just don’t want to get hurt again. Mr A, or A as I’ll call him from now on has everything I could dream of in a potential long term partner. He has the brains, the humour, the personality, the looks, the cooking skills, the music taste, the cock… did I just say that? Anyway, a lot that I would want as a long term partner and, I know I get carried away by saying this, but as a potential father for my future children. I love his soft skin and the way he smells. The way he talks to me when we’re making love. Sometimes with the words of a lover and sometimes the way he’d talk to a slutty bitch. He came over last night as he has done so many nights this last month. After hours of lovemaking, we finished off the Thornton’s chocolate he got me for Valentine and then, for the first time, fell asleep in each others arms. I remember thanking God for giving me this beautiful beautiful man and praying that it would be right this time before falling asleep with my head on his shoulder. I woke up before him, just listening to his quiet breathing while stroking his kinky hair. He hugged me tight and kissed me first thing when he woke up. “I’ll call you babes,” he said before disappearing quietly out the door leaving me longing for him.
Things with KS are not as bad as they could have been. KS is mad at me, but he keeps it inside and we’re at peace with each other. Hopefully we can make good friends in the future. The guy’s still young and will find someone who loves him for exactly who he is, which I do, but as a friend.
No plans for today except from filling in a couple of application forms for TV jobs and then my bible study group in the evening. Only 7 days till I go to Norway. It’s gonna be fun!
