Moving Day

I've moved apartments. And am completely and utterly exhausted.

Moving has shown me a few things:

1. I have very poor estimation skills.
After the open inspection of what is now my flat, I described it to my friends by comparing its size to the size of rooms at uni or at other people's flats. Which made them think I was moving into a midget house. Which it isn't. And it's not my decriptive skills that are bad. Karly and I went bookcase shopping and I was worried that the one I bought wouldn't fit in my lounge room. The bookcase arrived yesterday... the space I set aside can fit two more.

2. Lots of boxes can fit in baby cars, if they're arranged correctly.
6 years of my life in 4 carloads. Kinda sad, when you think about it.

3. Too much storage space can be perplexing.
This is especially true if you have nothing to put on the shelves. All of a sudden, there's an urge to fill cupboards upp and reorganise your entire organisation plan. Then you end up sitting on the kitchen floor, wondering how you can logically justify putting a wok with a colander on the same shelf. Or maybe that's just me.

4. Music and sugar have the power to rejuvenate the weary.
1 milky way bar, Alicia Keys and Usher singing "My Boo" on the radio, and Karly and I were ready to lift 3 tables from the register to the Kmart carpark. And then to move them into my new flat AND assemble them. (Alas for the lack of a screwdriver...)

5. When moving, make your bed first.
At the end of the day, when you're tearing your hair out in frustration and are still surrounded by boxes, you can relax knowing you have a nice bed to sleep in, with newly laundered sheets.

6. Never underestimate the power of best friends.
If it weren't for Karly: I'd still be struggling with my 20th car load; my bed wouldn't be made; and I'd be eating take-away from the pub since I would have lost my cutlery somewhere.

An Anniversary

Anniversaries are funny things. There are those that commemorate events that have had a widespread impact -- be it on a world, national, or community scale. There are anniversaries of things that the world would like to forget -- like the Holocaust, September 11 or the Bali bombings. These days of remembrance serve to honour those lives lost, and to remind us of just how fragile human life is. There are anniversaries to remember people's lives -- national heroes like Rizal day, Bonifacio day, Remembrance Day. There are annivesaries that celebrate a start of something -- Independence days, National days.

And then, there are personal anniversaries. Little reminders that our individual lives are peppered with significant events. Birthdays are one. They invite us to take stock of the year gone by, and look forward to the year ahead. There are death anniversaries, when we remember those whom we have loved. Special events, like graduations, can sometimes be remembered on a yearly basis, depending on the person's sentimentality. Sometimes, though, these can fade into the background and you have a vague "sometime in 1995" memory.

Relationship anniversaries. The biggest ones, of course, are the marriage ones. When a couple remind themselves about why they're together, and look back on the life they've created together. (Not having been married before, I can only assume this is what happens. But it's a nicer sentiment than thinking couples reach each milestone and think "wow, we've made it this far?!")

Everyone thinks it's the girl who is obsessed with remembering anniversaries. Like, it's the girls who feel that their partner is remiss in their love if they aren't showered with presents on a regular basis. In my relationship, it's my boyfriend who is obsessed with dates. We've celebrated every month-aversary. And he knows what day of the week the 6th of every month falls on. We aren't big on presents, I have to buy my own flowers if I want some colour in my flat. For me, it's about spending time with each other and remembering what makes us so special, and discovering something new about each other. I like to think that we do this every day, but with the hectic pace of day-to-day living, etc, sometimes this can get pushed into the background. For us, the 6th of every month is about us. A day we forget about everyday stresses and enjoy each other, like it was our first date.

Happy 7 months, babe.

A day at the cricket

When I was about 16, I thought that functional relationships only existed between 2 people who were exactly alike. Which is probably why I never had a boyfriend until I was in my 20's -- I was too busy looking for the guy who was doing med, appreciated literature and could read a book a day, could speak on the phone for hours and could serenade me when a romantic urge hit. I met him when I was 17. He bored me.

Fast forward 9 years later. To last weekend, to be precise. My current boyfriend is a sports-fanatic. No, make that sports-obsessed. An inclincation I do not share. I never could understand the need to watch a sporting event and not participate in it. Added to which I have minimal hand-eye coordination skills, which made my PE classes painful. But I digress.

Anyway, last weekend, Daniel took me to the cricket. Australia vs New Zealand at the Adelaide Oval (the most picturesque cricket ground in the world, apparently) Now, I never understood cricket. To me, it's a baseball game in 2 innings without the diamond and where the players don't lift the bat. And why anyone would watch it was beyond me. A test match goes for 5 days. For 7 hours each day. With a break for lunch at 1, another one for tea at 3:40, and 5 minute drink breaks every 40 minutes. When a friend found out I was going to the cricket, she asked me "are you sure? it's like watching it on TV without being able to change the channel or make fun of the ads!" Still, I decided to go and see what the fuss was all about. I mean, there had to be a reason do many people, my boyfriend and best friends included, raved about the cricket and made going to matches a yearly event.

I am proud to say that I made it to the end of the match. Well, to the end of the 3rd day (6:30 pm) of the 5 day match. In cricket terms, I made it to stumps. I can't say I understand the fascination with the game. Not that I didn't try. Daniel had to put up with my incessant questions (so what happened there? what does that mean? why didn't he run? etc.) , his answers adding to my knowledge of the basics of the game, but not to my understanding of its drawing power.

I can't say whether or not I'll ever go to another cricket match. (I don't know whether Daniel will be able to put up with any more of my questions!) I'm glad I went, though. It was one of the few times I saw my boy completely relaxed in public -- we were on his "home turf", after all.

And I don't think I was the only girlfriend dragged to the cricket. On my way back to our seat from a toilet break, I looked up at the stands and noticed a number of couples. The boys were eagerly and intently watching the game. The girls were reading the paper, or sms-ing, or, in some cases, sleeping, looking up only when the crowd cheered. I followed their lead and settled in with a book. I even caught Daniel sneaking in a read over my shoulders a couple of times, though he'd never admit it.

Which brings me to my point. (Yes, there was one) My idea of a fantasy relationship at 16 would never have worked because there were no surprises. Grown-up, real world relationships require work and compromise. Adaptability is an important attribute. And should I find myself the cricket again, I will remember to take a book and not to complain. After all, the next big event is a med one.