Hacker

Is it the long list of pressing things that need to be done,
by a certain date, certain time
Maybe it's the ever-present drizzle
And the fear of slipping on the concrete in shoes not designed for wet weather.
Is it the forced imbibing of a book, published in 1986, that turned out to be pleasing to read, cocooned in a nest of featherdown with eyes itching from tiredness?
The leftover coffee foam is sugary sweet, remaining on the walls of the glass in a way I can't quite explain (perhaps because it's separated from the rest, just like this?)
I hid my disappointment in my generic choices, my wide and expansive choices
'I hate accounting, I hate numbers, I just don't understand them. I refuse to study something I hate.'
'It's education' he said. 'Sometimes you don't get a choice.'
I told her about this
As well as this vice of mine, that I maintain isn't an outpouring of emotion (I hate that, in a public forum).
Maybe it's because I need a response, a 5pm Monday response, that's why I'm this way inclined, today, yesterday? (Write it, write it, write it).

I'm just sayin'

1. 'We're dreaming of a bright white Christmas (and I'm crying like a newborn baby)'

In my dream I say this to you while I'm singing it, and secretly grin on the inside while I watch your forehead terse in disgust and confusion. I wait for the familiar spiel that I now know, and dream-like me doesn't feel the cold so manages to find it that much funnier. I mentally prepare myself to ask the questions I already know the answers to.

'I've been through this with you before - snow isn't pretty. It might look pretty while it's falling down in little flakes but the next day it turns to slush, and then it turns to ice.'

'But at Christmas isn't it pretty, you're inside with the lovely fire and all the Christmas images that are plastered all over everything match how it actually is outside.'

'No, because it hardly ever snows at Christmas, it's just fucking cold. And we have central heating, not a roaring fire.'

'I still think snow's exciting, I really hope it snows again here before you leave.'

'Why do you want that? Do you not remember when it snowed last time and it was just really really cold and all the sidewalks and roads were slippery with ice? You fell over in the middle of the street, remember, and you complained about it for ages. Don't tell me you want it to snow.'

'Well it hurt, that's why I complained, I can still feel the egg on the back of my head. And I do want it to snow because then we can make snow angels.'

'I'm done talking about snow.'

In my dream, I don't feel the cold, and I have wings. The Pacific Ocean is a puddle, and 5c pieces are worth a thousand dollars each (I've got a jar of them on my windowsill, just imagine that).

I'm going to cut up my roast dinners and put them in my Thermos too

1.

‘He said it was overwritten, I don’t even know what that means.’

‘It means just really over the top descriptions and paragraph-long sentences that are filled with all these rare adjectives. You visualise everything really intensely and use too many metaphors.’

‘What? That’s not fair, I thought this was the one subject where I’m allowed to do that.’

I could visualise what she was doing while we were having this conversation, separated by the Hay Plain (the most boring stretch of land known to man) and 8 hours of vehicular control. She wouldn’t be sitting still, she’d probably be lurking from one room of the house to the next. She might pause in front of the glass door that looked out into the backyard, but not for long. The fridge door might open and she’d pick at something like cheese or a salad or dish that had been made the day before, but never take a plate and fill it up like I would. She wouldn't eat it while we were on the phone either, having screeched at me before if I took a loud sip of tea close to the receiver. I could visualise the expressions on her face and her body language while she spoke, and be able to predict what she was going to say before she did. Her listening fillers were usually in the same tone, same emphasis, though I suppose mine were as well.

2.

‘I saw a girl get her shoe stuck in the escalator at uni yesterday.’
‘Ha! Did you? Did you tell her that I did the same thing?’
‘First I started laughing hysterically, like I couldn’t stop. Then I said to her “My friend will be so relieved to hear that this has happened to you, it happened to her last week..” She was much calmer than you were about it though.’
‘How on earth was she calm? Were there waves of people coming behind her so that she couldn’t get her shoe back?’
‘Yeah and she was just waiting there with this really tired expression on her face, her shoe was more mangled than yours as well, it was a Haviaana that was all caught up in the teeth of the escalator and flapping around.’
‘I don’t know that I feel any better after hearing this story.’
‘I thought it was pretty funny. Are you going to use the rest of that soy sauce?’
‘No, you can have it, can I have some of your miso?’
‘No, you can’t, you’re sick. And you’ve made me sick, I can feel it already. I have a very low immune system.’
‘There is no way I could have made you sick this quickly, a cold incubates for 3 days at least.’
‘You have.’

3.

‘This is what people do, they work all their lives at jobs they don’t even like so they can come to Ikea on a public holiday and spend their money on a perfect house that looks like it came out of the catalogue.’
‘Everyone wants a perfect Swedish house, don’t you?’
‘No I want to move to Paris, but you won’t let me.’
‘Yes I will, I want to move to Paris too. That’s why we’ll be together forever, because we both want to move to Paris.’

‘Did that movie really have an effect on you or something?’

The first one was 3192

It’s not love – you never swept me off my feet. I struggle to believe that anyone would be able to, but even you, with the broken diamonds in your teeth and glitter in your eyes, and that swagger, even you couldn’t manage it.

I’ve always been able to think about other things rather than you, but you were a better option than the alternative. With that said, I feel more than endearment for you and I don’t know that I could turn my back without a moment’s thought. We’ve progressed over the last few months from a mutual and grudging affection, to an acceptance.

You terrified me at first. I was certain I could never really know you, wasn’t sure that I wanted to. The first few weeks after our introduction passed quickly, blurrily. I didn’t trust you and didn’t trust myself around you. What did we even do those first few weeks? They left me drained, wrung-out with exhaustion. I used to wake up at 4am and be near-death by 4pm, blind and deaf with tiredness. Though our union was chosen, I sometimes questioned that choice, wondered if the other one might’ve been kinder to me, easier. Carrying a steel midbeam by myself on the tram that rattled down Burnley Street made me ask that question, so did the lunch room conversation and so did the colour of our bedroom walls, a slightly off mint green that was punctured with old Blu-Tack. I won’t lie and say that the question wasn’t asked.

I strayed. I needed to, needed to make the comparison and to be reminded of the right choice. Needed to have the sugar bowl filled back up to the brim, swap the batteries over so I could look at you and say yes, instead of no. It was only a couple of days, and I came back, didn’t I?

I’ve never liked you for the same reasons that everyone knows you for, never really seen the characteristics in you that others guffaw over. It took me a while to see past the bravado, but I guess luckily for you, I liked what I saw. You took some things from me, gave me back others. I never thought about it too much because my head was busy deciding what to do next. You had taken all my money, so there were some choices I would have to make. You and your bravado took it from me when I wasn’t being careful, while I was caught up in the newness and excitement of it all. Then there came the moment where I was able to grab what I wanted, and there was purpose and drive behind our existence together. Everything was screaming out a reason.

I’m thankful for the year, happy about it, I don’t look at it with any scorn or vengeance. On days where I don’t feel like leaving my feet planted on the ground, I live where there is an accent on top of the ‘e’. It’s become a comfort of sorts, this thing between you and I. Perhaps it’s still not easier than the one who pronounces their vowels properly, but I know you well now, so there are fewer moments that startle me. So here's to that year.