JJ and I had a reasonably surreal experience today. We were at a cafe, chatting, as we do, and discussing the trip to Thailand. It's a country where you take off your shoes before you go into someone's house. So we were talking about getting sandals or flip-flops because it'll make it all easier, and it's the hottest time of the year over there.

Of course, as we're both Aussie girls at heart, we called them thongs. Just two girls talking about getting thongs because they're so easy to take off, which we'll be doing a lot of, and because it's so hot... totally oblivious to the two boys at the next table whose eyes were popping out of their heads!

So, of course, as we were clearly brazen hussies, they tried to pick us up. Wow they were disappointed to learn we were talking about shoes. And that we're a couple, with the usual necessary follow up, interrupting them about to suggest something with, "no, we're real lesbians, I'm afraid."

They were nice enough boys though, and we had a pleasant conversation. You have to love language differences; it's one of the great things about travelling.


--------------------


I just wish I wasn't so nervous about this trip. I know it'll be fine, but I can't stop the butterflies somehow. I've travelled a great deal (though never to that region), and I've undertaken this kind of job before, and everything looks great and fine. I just can't shake having a bad feeling about it, like a premonition. Maybe it's because it feels like we're moving, away from Emmy. We'll most likely come back to Australia for a bit, and who knows when we'll be back.

Oh, well, I'll be brave! Onwards to the future!

So, did I win this year's April Fool's? How did JJ and I get started on this whole tradition of trying to get one another with such enthusiasm? Oh yeah, it was when she damn well convinced my Aunt I was pregnant!

So here's what happened this year. I have to say first though, my original idea for this year, from about 8 months ago, I shelved for being too evil and came up with something else instead. Now I think I might use it next year, ha!

Julia got me first. See, she's really good at making this caramel/chocolate brownie type thing, though she only makes them now and then, and when we came home from travelling last week, she made a whole bunch to celebrate. We just kept them in a plastic container in a cupboard, and I'd been having one with morning or afternoon tea, like a good Englishwoman, you know. The important thing was that Julia set this up a few days before April Fool's. I was used to the presence of these things. So on April 1st, when I was enjoying a cup of tea in the morning and then took a huge bite out of one, I wasn't expecting that she'd replaced them with identical ones only with the added ingredient of pureed Habernero chillis. I pretty much thought I was going to die. Fortunately, I had cream on hand... and a laughing JJ, who, once I'd recovered sufficiently, I tried to force-feed one of the slices!

Although, chilli and chocolate is actually quite nice. Just not in that concentration. They're good if you just nibble on them though.

Okay, so she got me first. However, it wasn't long after that she went to have a shower and I struck back. We have an ensuite bathroom (which is a Godsend, let me tell you), so I was in the bedroom trying not to giggle as I waited for my trap to engage...

Sounds of the shower starting, water trickling, a minute passes and then... commotion and Julia calls out - "Hollie!" - and a few seconds later, there she is the doorway, naked and mostly coloured blue. I run for it and she chases after me, threatening to rub herself all over me... erm, *blush blush blush* Lucky we had the place to ourselves. Of course, I was a little half-hearted running away I have to say, hehe. That's about as scant as I can be on details, I'm probably already TMI, lol. Safe to say, we both ended up blue.

See, I know JJ, and that she never gets under the shower until the water's running properly and she's tested its temperature, so it couldn't be an immediate effect. So that morning, I'd unscrewed the shower head and used the hairdryer to completely dry it out. I'd acquired some large water-soluble gelatin capsules and filled them with a water-based blue body dye. I put them into the shower head. I'd previously tested the system using coloured water, and after a minute in the water flow, the cases dissolve enough to release their reservoir onto the victim. And why blue dye? Well, I didn't want it to be an upsetting colour like red, but it had to be vibrant, and hmm, I don't know why but blue body dye has sexy connotations to me...




Ahhh, right.

I'm composed of such violent paradoxes, extremes in opposition, in so many things—especially the absolute refusal not to be totally independent and self-sufficient yet having such a strong yearning for being part of something, a band of people, a family, a love...; hating and loving people at the same time—that I think I actually appear to be quite a mild person on the surface.

I tend to see things from multiple perspectives simultaneously, which I believe is the core talent of mathematics (as it allows complex structures of meaning to be held within the imagination, so all the links and patterns can be seen. Plus it most likely explains why I like puns, daydreaming and why I tend to fall over things so often). I think this leads, partly, to a fear of being defined, as to be defined is to be limited. Like an electron exists in a cloud, a probability distribution, existing in all its possible states of being, until it is defined by observation.

Is growing up a gradual acceptance of how you've been limited?

For the past four or so years, JJ and I have lived together, with my wonderful Aunt, in a particular way. I'm the student, with long holidays (the longer the holidays, the more prestigious the school *ahem*), and waitressing and tutoring on the side, and JJ is the working gal (I like to think of her at work acting like Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday, or perhaps Jennifer Jason Leigh in The Hudsucker Proxy).

Now because I'll be home during the day when JJ's at work, there's been overtones of me being the 'housewife' and her being the 'breadwinner'. And as usual, it both delights me and horrifies me. I love taking care of her, I love cooking, glomping her in the hallway when she comes home, all that domestic stuff; yet the idea of taking a traditional housewife role is awful to me. It's never felt like that ever for us, obviously, but whenever I read novels or see people in those traditional relationships, it always sends a shiver down my spine. I would hate it, it's completely wrong for me, even if one day I do want children. (It ties into my dislike of families as well, of course).

It's yet another reason I'm glad I'm a lesbian, as the relationships are more undefined, without the weight of custom and politics, so much more likely to be between equals, which is how I like it. You don't have roles to fall back on, a path laid out before you. You need to work it out yourselves, and there's no resistance to things changing, no one telling you how to be together (society usually tells you not to be at all, if anything).

So I've loved any overtones over the last years concerning it, but the theorectical idea of being defined as a housewife (or anything), is a deeply unpleasant one for me. Do I just hate tradition, or structure, or being frozen into a role, like a mosquito trapped in amber?

You know the best thing about this Thailand job? Total role reversal. JJ won't be working, I'll be working. Ahh, I'm so going to play this up. "Honey, I'm home! Is supper on the table?" hehehe. Maybe I should buy her a gingham dress? *grin* And I know JJ won't mind the teasing really. It's just another phase in our ever-changing relationship. The only thing that never changes is the fact that we love each other.

I suppose my ultimate point is that it's so wonderful to be in love and get to make it all up as we go along, and that suits exactly who I am!

This is the fic I entered into the Shatterstorm Winter Calendar. Hope you like it!

Author's Note: This is an original story, the characters are my own. This is a fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is probably an unfortunate, embarrassing oversight.




A Study In Orange



Pages rustled.

A sigh sounded.

Claire lay on her bed, peering at a textbook, head propped on her hand, propped on her elbow, placed on a soft quilt. She felt she could resist all temptation associated with studying on her bed due to her orientation away from the headboard, which in her mind was the opposite of sleep.

She sighed again.

Red hair passed across the frame of the open doorway. Not only red hair, of course. It was attached to a girl, but eye-catching enough to be the only impression left by a glimpse. It'd take a full second before your eyes would migrate to her ass and realise it was equally as spectacular. Or her sparkling blue eyes, or those long, cool legs leading up and up or her... Claire giggled to herself. She'll come back in a minute, she nodded mentally. That was just a sighting run.

Moments later, the red-haired girl returned. This time she lingered in the doorway, leaning into the side with one leg bent coyly, rocking on the tips of its toes. A hand casually stroked her midriff, artfully pushing up her white singlet to expose the curve of her belly. Claire was deliberately trying not to look but could see her in peripheral. Enough to know what she was doing and to be aware she was also wearing purple boxer shorts. That wasn't fair — talk about fighting dirty!

The girl continued to mooch for a moment to prove the point before speaking.

"Still studying?" she asked.

"Uh huh."

The girl paced a few steps into the room, taking any kind of verbal response as an invitation. "Wow, you've been going for like, two hours."

"Uhhh huh." Claire's focus never shifted from her book.

The girl pouted then bit her lip, hesitating at a distance. Her eyes traveled over Claire's supine form, something not missed by the subject of her attention; smiling to herself, she moseyed over to the edge of the bed.

"You could probably use a break then," she declared brightly.

Claire still kept her eyes on the page before her. "No. I told you. I have to study. I have an exam tomorrow."

The girl snorted, "Come on, you always ace exams. If anything you study too hard..." she paused as she slowly moved her hand to brush some of Claire's chestnut-coloured hair back from her eyes, over her ear, noting with satisfaction the barely suppressed thrill the motion elicited in the other girl, "...it isn't good for you."

"Harry," Claire started, closing her eyes, still not wanting to look at her girlfriend but having read the same sentence half a dozen times, "You know I really love you... but I'm gonna have to ask you to fuck off for now, okay?"

"Ah," Harriet smiled in reply, "I can see you're tense, babe. That's why I think you need a relaxing massage!"

Claire tilted her head to finally look up at Harriet, eyebrows raised slightly over a cool gaze. "Yeah, I think we both know as soon as you get your hands on me there'll be no more studying," she decisively turned back to her book. "Not of textbooks anyway."

"Do you think I'm some kind of animal? Just let me be a good girlfriend and help you relax, and then you can study without being all cross."

Harriet's proposal met with silence and determined concentration. She flopped her head, and addressed the ceiling. "Here you are, provocatively lying in bed, door open, willing me into the room, luring me with..."

"My flannel PJ's?" Claire interrupted.

"Yes!" Harriet gestured, arms out, looking down at her, wide-eyed, "You know what they do to me, you hussy!"

Claire let her head drop onto her book as she laughed, no longer able to contain her amused frustration. "Harry, you're killing me!" she declared, her voice muffled in her book and fallen hair till she peeked upwards once more. "Fine! Go on, have your way then."

"I can have my way with you then? Mwahaha!" Harriet bounced onto the bed beside Claire, her momentum rocking the brunette, who cried, "Just a quick massage! No funny business."

"Oh, sure," Harriet agreed, "I'll have to take your shirt off, of course."

"What? No, just do it over it!"

"Ah, but my leetle eclaire," she purred, pulling a small bottle from the waistband of her boxers, "I can't very well pour this fragrant oil onto your PJ's, can I?"

Claire laughed, "Oh God... I knew you were hiding something. Well, push it up then, you're not getting me naked."

Harriet pouted at her, but complied, lifting the hem of her shirt and pushing it up her back, smoothing her hands over the bare skin, slowly and sensuously. Claire shivered at the touch of her girl's hands, so soft and silky, gentle but firm. Mmm, reason number one hundred and twenty seven why I have to be a lesbian, she thought, — soft hands. So soft and warm... wait, she even warmed them! Someone's confident, sheesh. A sense of release flowed where the hands went, a wonderful easing within her. She really had been tense and wound up. Credit where it's due, she knows me well. The hands reached her shoulders and massaged her taut muscles, causing Claire to moan as her body yielded beneath her girl's ministrations.

Harriet chuckled, "See? You needed this."

"Mmm, yeah," she groaned, "Oh, Harry, I do love how you knead me."

They both giggled. Then Claire sighed and started reading again, causing her masseuse to object. "Hey, can't you just take a break for a minute? You know this stuff back to front."

"Yeah, well, you know me back to front too but doesn't stop you revising, huh?"

"Ha!" Harriet resumed her massage, trying to jostle the tension from her girlfriend. "You'll be fine, babe. Don't worry about it."

"This is history!" Claire complained, "I'm not used to memorising history." She turned a page, grumbling, "Damn electives."

She kept reading, page after page. This stuff really is incredibly dull. What the hell had made me choose Ancient Greek History as an elective? grrr. The attentions of her girlfriend calmed her though, imbuing her with a warm, pleasurable hum. She became drowsy, sinking into a sleep more and more seductive, with soft hands running over her, pressing and moulding her. One hand lifted from her for a moment before she felt warm drops of liquid fall onto her lower back as the scent of oranges filled the air. Mmm, oranges. Just the fragrance I wanted. How is she reading my mind? Her skin became silky and wet, a heat permeating through her back, pressed into her with her lover's palms. She was slipping into the pleasure of it, yet she resisted. She tried to re-focus on her book and let the massage aid her to absorb knowledge. That'll work, right? Mmmm, she's so good at this, she... her eyes widened suddenly.

"Hey!" Claire cried in surprise, staring back over her shoulder.

"Whoops," Harriet exclaimed, holding up her arms in innocence, "Sorry... um, my hands slipped! It's the oil, I swear."

"They both slipped at the same time, huh? And cupped?"

Harriet snickered at her and received a glare in return.

"What can I say? It was an accident...," she moued and looked askance, "maybe if you ever wore bras..."

"Maybe you can grab your own tits next time!"

Harriet chuckled, "It's not quite the same, babe." Then she frowned seriously, lifting a hand aloft. "I promise, I won't do it again. Well, for now, you know... I don't promise forever, I'm not giving that up... I mean, it's quite nice... but, um," she stopped at the reaction she was getting, and placed her hand over her heart, "I'll be good."

Claire contemplated her girlfriend sitting astride her back, vulnerable beneath the dominant position—at her mercy. On the surface she appeared contrite, yet she glimpsed the undercurrent of naughty glee flowing through her. And she knew her. The massage was, however, too good to give up. "Fine. No taking advantage though!"

She resumed reading as her sufficiently scolded girlfriend restarted the massage. This time she concentrated more successfully, though she had to admit to herself, her nipples were still buzzing from the brief contact, the thought making her blush. In a way, Harriet pushing the rules like that fired her up, and it seemed to be helping her study somehow. She managed to finish revising the chapter she'd been working on and moved on to the next one. Okay, Harry was right, she really is... hang on!

"Harry!"

"What? Your butt looked tense!"

Claire held her gaze defiantly. "You just can't resist, can you?"

"Can't resist what?" The redhead was only barely containing her guffaws within a smirk. However, she sensed Claire was starting to get mad, so she leaned over and whispered softly to her, in the voice of the genuinely caring and supportive girlfriend she was. "You know I'm teasing. I do think you need a proper break, but if you really want me to leave you alone, just say the word."

Claire bit her lip. She didn't want to be left alone, as it happened. "Hmmm, I have to admit," she spoke slowly, "As evil as you are, it does kinda help."

"Mmhm, you know," Harriet grinned, in that contagious way of hers—that irresistible, devilish smile that always melted Claire—"I have a dare for you... whatever you do, keep studying... just keep studying."







Claire sat on a stone step, her breath fogging over the notes she was perusing, the air crisp and cold in the early morning. She was regretting the fact she'd chosen to wear a dress, as even though she was wrapped in her favourite long black coat, no matter how she positioned herself, a freezing draft kept managing to enter where it was least wanted. Her hair brushed into her eyes, and in batting it away with a mittened hand, she fumbled her pages onto the ground. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered, heaving herself up to chase them down. Damn Harry and her soft hands. This is her fault!

Her notes collected, she stopped to lean against the stone wall beneath the railings, breathing deeply in an effort to calm herself. She observed the courtyard before her; the small flock of birds flapping into the air, the trees fluttering their leaves gently, the other students milling about on the grass, waiting for the exam. All with an air of calm, like they knew everything.

This wasn't like her at all. She'd always been the nervous sort, which is why she'd always prepared carefully, so as not to let it grow to panic. Yet here she was with a weight in her chest and an uneasy, sick feeling of humming anxiety. Because of a vixen like Harriet. A smile flickered on her despite her distress but she lost it in a shake of her head. I want to be cross, dammit.

She blushed to think of the night before, her cheeks hot in the chill. She stared up into the sky — so serene and still, with no cloud in sight. Simply a vast blueness, open and inviting, like you could fall into it and float forever. Her heart beat faster, a quickening flowed within her, a flush of emotion. Every time with Harriet. Even after all of their years together, she so easily lost herself in passion to her. So easily and naturally. An irresistible link between them that never broke or failed, merely waxed and waned in unfathomable ways.

She never had put down the textbook...

Metallic clunks echoed as the doors to the examination hall opened and everybody shuffled in. Claire followed listlessly, up the stairs and into the long hall. The Ancient Greek history elective had been popular this year. There had to be at least a hundred people waiting to be examined. Claire's will firmed with determination. I will do well, I know this stuff, stop being a baby!

She chose her seat, hung her coat on the back of the chair and placed herself down. Pencils and rubbers were arranged in her set pattern: four pencils like little picket fences on her left, her rubber and extra emergency rubber at the top in the middle of the desk, in company with her sharpener. There was a palpable absence on her right where her calculator usually lay. She'd been pleased not have been silly enough to bring one to a history exam but now she missed it. She breathed consciously, closing her eyes for a moment to focus her concentration and waited for the start. Don't be nervous, you'll be fine. The thought echoed her girlfriend's voice, and she half-smiled, half-scowled at the remembrance.

The head examiner stood by the big clock, and as it struck the hour, he declared the examination to have commenced. One of these days they'll start using checkered flags. Claire opened the question booklet, flicking through. Nine questions, that's a good number. Okay, first one! It was a question on the Lelantine War, the causes and the details of times and geography. Claire had read all about it, yet now she was asked directly, she found she'd suddenly forgotten everything she knew. She clutched her pencil and thought, trying not to panic, but drawing a blank on the subject. I'm just nervous, my brain will tick over eventually. Damn history... Her arm itched, inside the elbow, and she distractedly brushed at it, as thankfully details flooded into her brain. 1710 to 650 B.C., ...the island of Euboea... mentions by Plutarch... Eretria, Chalkis...

She scribbled away, relieved to be under way. The first question answered, she read the second — "Name three City States during the Classical Period with different forms of governance, and explain their political systems in detail." Again, she thought of the topic and came back with nothing. What the hell is going on? My memory isn't this bad. She frowned at the examination paper and concentrated. Think! How is it possible to forget this stuff? Her earlobe was bothering her as well. One thing Claire did remember was Harriet getting a little carried away and biting her there the night before, gently but she had definitely felt it as more than a nibble. She did have a thing about her earlobes and didn't Harry know it... Wait, stop thinking about that, you're in an exam! Focus! She tried harder to recall, and rubbed her earlobe to get rid of the tingling distraction, and finally she remembered. Corinth and Macedon... Sparta, oligarchy... Athens, democracy...

On the third question, about the Peloponnesian War, once more she struggled to remember details. A disturbing, intuitive realisation came over her as her left breast started to tingle. She sat still, wondering if this could actually be happening. She glanced left and right self-consciously, aware of how very much in public she was. She blushed faintly as she moved her hand to stroke the top of her signaling breast, which was exposed by the cut of her dress, using her left arm in an attempt to block any view of what she was doing. What am I doing?? Somehow it seemed vaguely right yet not good enough, so she traced along and down to the side, eliciting goose bumps and a faint feeling of recall. Something about the battle of Cyzicus. Her fingers reached the underside, only the light cloth of her dress insulating her from the skin underneath — she hadn't worn a bra, it was an exam habit of hers, a sort of superstition. Some more details emerged as her touch explored her contours but they were fuzzy until she circled upwards then around her nipple and at last achieved perfect clarity as she stroked the tip, which hardened under her attention. Facts of history flowed through her mind.

Lysander... Syme... 410... the Lacedaemonians... It was like tuning a radio... then Claire snapped out of it and was abruptly aware of what she was doing and where she was. She flinched, unhanding herself and blushing crimson, placing her hands on the desk and lowering her head upon them. She now understood what had happened. Images flashed within her of her red-haired girl, smiling, laughing, touching, stroking, nibbling... Oh no. No way... that's not possible! The answers were mapped onto her body! Somehow the mix of study and sex had... encrypted her with Ancient Greek history. Knowledge had been erotically encoded into her very physiology. Oh dear God!

What could she do? What could she possibly do? Well, you could answer the question. Does it matter how? Come on, Claire, get it off your chest! She grimaced at the bad pun but she quickly decided that she just needed to get through this exam and she'd deal with the implications later. And so she did, huddling over as she wrote in an attempt to hide the fact she was cradling her boob as though it was the font of all knowledge.

So it went, each area of history corresponding to a different erogenous zone. On the next question, her belly bristled with knowledge of Sophocles. The little area between her clavicle and her throat revealed the cult of Pythagoras. The back of her knee emanated facts on the history of Christianisation.

She was beginning to associate the tingling with what Harriet had specifically been doing at the time, which was making her made her blush even more. She'd always experienced aftershocks following intimacy but not like this. She slipped off her shoe, then dropped her pencil onto the floor as an excuse to bend down and quickly tickle the arch of her foot, and thus answered the eighth question on Thebes.

Then she put her pencil down and paused, with head on hand, breathing rapidly. She'd reached such a height of embarrassment and excitation, she didn't think she could cope anymore. When I get out of here, there's going to be some serious scolding, for damn sure! There was a distinct edge of pleasure in what she was doing, something she was consciously attempting to ignore, even as it was quickening her breathing and... She couldn't focus on any physical symptom of her arousal and carry on. Mental focus, Claire, you can do it! She took a deep breath and readied herself for the finish, the last question. Oh, God, please don't have a question on the Athenian Golden Age. Please. You couldn't be that cruel.

She turned the page. "Detail the social structure of the Age of Pericles, otherwise known as the Athenian Golden Age..."

Claire gasped. She stared for a moment in shock. Then she felt the tingling sensation again. She closed her eyes and attempted to recall in what to her was now the old-fashioned way, but it didn't work. I can't possibly do that... it's only an exam and I've done most of it... She cast her eyes surreptitiously around the room. Could I? Even there? Still, no one seemed to have noticed her strange behaviour in feeling herself up over the last hour, and she knew deep down she couldn't resist acing an exam. She moved her hand, downwards, over her thigh, lifting up the hem of her skirt, gliding up and up, her breathing becoming erratic with her anxiety at her daring, and her excitement...

Oh my God! I'm so going to be arrested...







"Ah, my wonderful, brilliant daughter! Give me a hug!" Claire's beaming mother drew her in, squeezing her. "Mum! You've knocked my hat off," protested Claire.

"Oh, don't be like that. I can't hug my only daughter at her graduation? I'm proud of you!"

"Please, Mum," Claire begged, blushing effusively, "Don't make a big deal of it. It was nothing, really."

"She says it's nothing! Getting perfect scores on every exam, ever since that one on history." She tapped Claire on the shoulder, nodding. "See, darling, I told you doing that elective would be good for you, something outside of your comfort zone."

"Aww, she's so humble," teased Harriet, huddling in on Claire's other side. Her mother grabbed Harriet's hand. "And you, young lady, you've been wonderful for her, always so supportive. Thank you!"

"Well," Harriet replied, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek and grinning as Claire flushed even more red, "I'm just so happy I could help, in whatever way I could."

I feel like I've been really cranky and irritable lately, even if I've had some reason to be. So I'm sorry if I've been poor company to anybody. People just have to stop pissing me off though, lol. In any case, I thought I'd post about something that happened a fair while back, that I didn't post about at the time because it was too... sweet? Or cute, perhaps. Yeah, I know.

The city is ruthless, like any megapolis. Yet, the depths people can sink to are a continual surprise. Coming back home one day, I stepped off a bus and sat down at the stop to look through my ipod for something to listen to on the walk back. So armed, I headed off but only ten metres away from the stop, it started to rain. This happens sometimes in London.

It caused me to realise I'd left my umbrella at the bus stop, leaning against the seat. As I turned back, I saw a woman taking it from where it rested. Now, there's no way she hadn't seen me leave it there, as it had only been seconds. So I naturally thought she was picking it up so as to call out to me and return it. I'd thank her and blush and she'd say something clever about forgetting my head one day or something, and it would be Edwardian England all over again. Perhaps some birds would sing, accompanying me on the way home and I could put my ipod in my bag.

Instead, she looked at me for a moment, then turned and started walking away! I was a little shocked but I hurried after her, calling out, "Oh, excuse me, that's my umbrella! Hello... hey, what are you doing?"

She kept walking until I caught up, went around her and stood in front, and she had to stop. Our eyes met. She was about 30, well-dressed in office clothes. I was bemused.

"Are you actually stealing my umbrella?" I asked her.

"It's mine," she said, and started moving again, but I shifted to block her.

"We both know it's mine. Just hand it back, please." Her appearance had immediately steeled something inside me. She could easily go down the end of the road to the shops to buy one, but for her own convenience, she'd steal mine. Finders keepers would be enough justification for her. Well, no way was I letting this corporate umbrella-usurping bitch take my umbrella!

She claimed it was hers again, I said it wasn't hers, it was mine and to give it back now. She said no, and I replied I'd take it from her if I had to, and she said that was assault. Clearly she wasn't giving it up, and it was coming down to the fact that I was going to have to prise it off her and run. I was fully prepared to do it, and it was amazing it would come to this for a £5 umbrella. I may have even let her have it, let her attempt to live with herself, if it was an ordinary umbrella, but it wasn't — and that would be her downfall.

This was when a man in a suit came walking by and she called him over. I was really very angry. If there's one thing I hate, it's a bully. I was also starting to feel I knew the type of person she was, and so it was no surprise that when the man approached, she denounced me, crying, "This girl is trying to steal my umbrella!"

I felt sick. "No," I said, with that ill, sinking feeling, thinking my voice wasn't loud enough, too much like a little girl's, shaking slightly, "it's mine, she's stealing it from me!"

It must be some sociopathic impulse, some type of ugly pleasure she got that was making her do this. It wasn't about the umbrella anymore. It had become a symbol of power. Because you can see the problem — how do you prove it's yours? And then, who carries the most weight? Her, with her age and her fancy clothes, or me in my black jeans, t-shirt and boots; a youth, as we're called on the news programmes. I could see how she was thinking, and how she'd probably laugh about it later, how clever she was. Well, it was a symbol, alright. Just not what she thought. I was mad, but I was also very clear-headed and I had a plan.

The man's presence changed everything. I couldn't now just snatch it back off of her. He seemed to want to help though. So as the rain fell gently, she gave her story: how she'd been accosted by this crazy girl trying to steal her umbrella. I think it was undermined by how quiet but clearly upset I was. I mean, I'm hardly the typical image of a thug. I then gave my story honestly. I could see him wishing he'd walked down a different street. I think he believed me, but what to do? Offer to cut it in half and the one who gives it up is the mother?

I asked him if he could hold the umbrella till this was sorted out and she reluctantly gave it up. Then I dropped my bombshell.

"I can prove it's mine, as it happens. Because it's branded."

She just shook her head in confusion and I couldn't help smiling at her, even though I was still nervous. I looked at the man.

"Inside, there's some writing, near the top. I know what it is because it's my umbrella. She doesn't know because she just stole it from me."

She still bluffed, but he let me whisper what it was to him, and then he peeked inside and saw it was true. He gave her the chance to say what it was and of course she had no answer. And then her demeanor changed from bitchy to really ashamed. "Look, I don't know what came over me. I thought it was a lost umbrella, really..."

The man really laid down the law, I could have kissed him (if I was the sort to kiss strangers). She could be arrested for theft and so on, he said, and then I suggested that perhaps a sincere apology could settle the matter. She had been humiliated, which was enough for me as it was her own fault.

She did apologise. Then she went away in the rain, ha. I thanked the man and he replied, "I'm glad I could help. Good evening, Miss... Hollie?"

I grinned, "Yep, that's right!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

One morning, about a week earlier, when I'd been quite down about troubles with my family, I was out and about when it started to rain. I opened my umbrella and there inside, right at the the top where only I could see it was a little heart with the words "JJ + Hollie" written inside it. Awwwwwwwww. Julia had been doing all sorts of things like that, going out of her way to make sure I knew I was loved. She was always looking out for me. God that made me beam with delight.

Do you see what I mean about too sweet?

First of all, I'm perfectly okay and fine. No lasting damage. (Gill, I hope this doesn't trigger bad memories for you. Again, I'm totally fine).

Yesterday morning, I was doing what I usually do when I'm walking along by myself — daydreaming. I think it's the reason I'm so good at maths, as half the time that's what I'm thinking about. Much of the rest is blushworthy *ahem*. So I'm strolling along the pavement, then I suddenly and quickly became aware of a looming mass filling my vision and I was hit by a truck. I didn't really get a good look at it, just a peripheral sight as it came upon me from the side, but you could say it left an impression.

The next thing I know I'm waking up in the A&E, and JJ is next to me, with the last expression I ever want to see her with. Concern, worry and clearly having had the absolute crap scared out of her. JJ and Emmy are my emergency contacts, and JJ got the call first. All they'd tell her was that I'd been hit by a truck and I was currently unconscious. Can you imagine getting that call about a loved one? They wouldn't tell her I was pretty much fine; I think it's some insurance thing, just in case I wasn't. So until she got to me she was totally freaking out. I can't say how bad I feel about that, it's the worst part of it all.

I'd been walking along slightly distracted, like the ditz I am, so it was partially my fault, because even though I was walking where I was supposed to and everything, you still have to be aware and vigilant. But then when you're driving a truck, you shouldn't dart out of one of those little alleyways, way too fast to stop before you knockdown a pedestrian. So mostly the drivers fault, I say. Thankfully, he wasn't going really fast but he hit me flush and I banged my head and got knocked out. It was a case of perfectly bad timing: me stepping across just as the truck zipped out.

They said I could press charges but he was apparently pretty remorseful about it, and I'm ok in the end, so I said no. I have a really bad bruise on the side of my head though, as the worst of it. It's JJ I feel awful about, that I put her through that. Luckily Emmy heard it first from JJ, after she'd seen me.

The whole thing has really crystallised something for me. It's mostly likely the way I grew up, but I'm not used to being responsible to anyone. Not much family, no parents. I've felt I could do what I liked, I was a free agent. And I kinda enjoyed that. It's simple. The last few years, however, I've realised that by falling in love and being loved in return, and by finally finding an adult who is like a parent to me, my fate has been tied to other people. It's an incredible sense of belonging, something I've missed most of my life, yet at the same time it's such a responsibility. I think it's natural for most people, to know they're responsible to the other people in their life, but it hasn't been for me. I've had to learn it.

Seeing Julia like that... I mean, I've known, we've been together over five years now, so I know all this, how much we could devastate each other, how tied we are, but it very much hit me right at the core, emotionally. I need to take care of myself. I just have to. I can't be reckless. It's... a powerful feeling. Wonderful and terrible.

I'm just not alone anymore in my life.

Yeah, it's mostly wonderful.

Belinda Carlisle - Runaway Horses

Can't sleep tonight
I feel so shaken
Baby, the wind has changed again
You come to me
Straight out of nowhere
Taking me where I've never been

Suddenly all of my fences have broken
I'm cutting the reins of my life

Whoa Runaway horses
Take us through the night (our life)
You and I on Runaway horses
Ooo baby hold on tight

Out on this road
Everything changes
No, nothing ever stays the same
Faith comes and goes
Dreams are forsaken
We take our chances everyday

I want you here with me
Pray for our destiny
Here on this mystery ride

Whoa Runaway horses
Take us through the night
You and I on Runaway horses
ooo baby hold on tight

Racing through the darkness
Trying to find a light
You and I on Runaway horses
ooo baby hold on tight
ooo baby hold on tight

Open my eyes, there's so much light
I feel alive when I'm with you
With every end we'll begin again

Whoa Runaway horses
Take us through the night
You and I on Runaway horses
ooo baby hold on tight

Whoa Racing through the darkness
Trying to find a light
You and I on Runaway horses
ooo baby hold on tight
Hold on tight...

http://tinyurl.com/cb78dn

There's a power to pure pop music. Amazing how this song encapsulates how I feel at this point in my life, so, so well. Defiant, bruised, unsure, reckless but certain of that one thing, and finding happiness and courage there, whatever comes. I can't stop listening to it.

Holy crap!

So I was idly playing with some mathematics this afternoon, just to kill half an hour, you know, and I came across something interesting. Something I thought would be easy, but something I suddenly realised I didn't fully understand. I couldn't see why it didn't fall into place easily. It taunted me with the fact I couldn't solve it right away like usual...

So, SIX HOURS later, I collapse on the floor, utterly breathless, exhausted with hundreds of handwritten pages strewn about me, the writing progressively getting more messy, unable to even think anymore, but there in my hand a single page - a perfect, elegant piece of mathematics that couldn't be more beautiful. And the vixen, Mathematics, she leaves me in her wake, hating and loving her for what she just did to me, knowing I couldn't resist. She pauses at the door - the harlot, the temptress - turning back with a smirk, blowing a kiss at the wreckage she wrought. She laughs.

"See you soon, honey!"

I haven't updated in a while, mostly because I don't want to talk about the stuff that's been happening lately...

So I've ruthlessly stolen this off my sister, Tristian

Obviously, there will be spoilers. And it's going to be long, because I'll babble.

( Day 01 - ( A show that should never have been cancelled ) )

( Day 02 - ( A show that you wish more people were watching ) )
Day 03 - ( Your favourite new show (aired this TV season) )
Day 04 - ( Your favourite show ever )
Day 05 - ( A show you hate )
Day 06 - ( Favourite episode of your favourite TV show )
Day 07 - ( Least favourite episode of your favourite TV show )
Day 08 - ( A show everyone should watch )
Day 09 - ( Best scene ever )
Day 10 - A show you thought you wouldn't like but ended up loving
Day 11 - A show that disappointed you
Day 12 - An episode you've watched more than 5 times
Day 13 - Favourite childhood show
Day 14 - Favourite male character
Day 15 - Favourite female character
Day 16 - Your guilty pleasure show
Day 17 - Favourite mini series
Day 18 - Favourite title sequence
Day 19 - Best TV show cast
Day 20 - Favourite kiss
Day 21 - Favourite ship
Day 22 - Favourite series finale
Day 23 - Most annoying character
Day 24 - Best quote
Day 25 - A show you plan on watching (old or new)
Day 26 - OMG WTF? Season finale
Day 27 - Best pilot episode
Day 28 - First TV show obsession
Day 29 - Current TV show obsession
Day 30 - Saddest character death

I love my satchel. It's such a student thing, but it's so much easier to get in and out of shops than with a backpack. I hate having my bag searched. Anyway, mine is a bit of a bermuda triangle; I essentially use it as a giant handbag. It has pages filled with maths notes and scribbles, my scientific calculator (it's funny how schools teach on those powerful graphics calculators now, as real mathematicians never use them, ha), my pens and pencils, and all the usual paraphernalia of makeup, phone, tissues, lozenges, jelly babies - all the girly stuff. It has all sorts of pockets and I always tend to have money that I've completely forgotten about stuffed away somewhere in it. Whenever I'm paid for tutoring or waitressing I just shove it in there. I like that, it's like I'm never broke, I just haven't bothered looking hard enough yet.

So, I was walking along the street looking to do some shopping, with my satchel, enjoying the new Spring sunshine that would actually be like Winter back in Australia, when suddenly something leaped inside my satchel! Like an explosion of force, but it was definitely something moving quickly inside it, and it was still twitching! It scared the crap out of me, and I threw the bag off onto the ground and stood there shocked, hands to mouth. What the hell was that?? It was definitely alive, the way it kicked... Immediately the thought came to me that somehow a rat had got into my bag. I don't know why, probably cause it's the worst thing I could think of. Then it hit me that the worst thing would be something weird, like a mutant baby or something. Safe to say I was completely creeped out. I'd also gathered a small crowd of people whom I'd startled as well. They watched as I bravely approached my bag.

Daringly, I opened the clips on the front, ready to jump back at the slightest movement. As I released the pressure something moved inside, pushing outwards, and I gave a little yelp, and almost leapt away but then I thought I had to know! So I pulled it open in one go and the monster inside popped out and expanded!

It was my umbrella. Something had pushed the quick release button and I hadn't done the strap up properly so it'd shot out and opened... Of course everyone's chuckling now, and I'm blushing my head off, but I had to laugh too. "It's okay, everyone, I've defused the situation. Move along!" I get a few pats on the shoulder, hehe.

The thing is, this type of stuff always happens to me! I seem to have a talent for it, and no matter how many masters degrees I earn, this is why I'll always be a bona fide ditz!