The very odd passage of time

All things considered the last six years have passed in the blink of an eye. 2343 day it may have been, but it felt like nothing in light of all that we have done.

Given that, it is really quite irritating that the last two weeks have moved in the same sort of eons that are required to form glaciers or giant redwoods.

Twelve and a half more days is impossible. I will lose my mind before it gets here.

I am in manic mode. Give me a task that should take a week and I get it done in hours. I'm begging for work. I'm nervous and jittery and fidget constantly. I can't settle to read a book, my mind is going over the same details again and again.

Sleep is a challenge and waking hours are flitting butterfly like from distraction to distraction.

I've finished a book a day for the last week. I can't even speed read.

I don't know how to focus myself or my mind to make this rather bizarre situation speed up, when it has already been faster than we ever imagined it would be.

I really don't know what to do or how to explain the insanity to anyone.

So, if you're in Canberra and you come across a slightly crazy eyed blonde girl spinning around in a park full of children who are wide eyed in confusion, perhaps you could point me at a cafe and get me a calming chamomile and pat my hand, or something?

Cause of the nutty? Surely not. 

Surreality

It's been just about a week since Americo's visa got approved. I still feel like I've entered some kind of surreal reality that isn't the reality I was in before the visa got approved.

I know it's really real. I've read the approval letter 100 times. I'm constantly checking the flight confirmation just to be sure I really booked it. My bank balances are a scary daily reminder that I am really going to have my fiance in under three weeks, and he's going to be my husband in 38 days.

Yup. Not only is he moving here, but I was mentally deranged (or PMSing) enough to decide to get married with just 6 weeks notice.

That doesn't feel real either.

I have shoes.
I have ordered rings.
I have a dress ordered to be delivered with my husband to be.
The celebrant is set.
The venue is arranged.
I've given everyone a heads up.
I've spent 3 lunchtimes at work making invitations to send out tomorrow.

Now, even taking into account that some of this had been semi organised anyway, it needed to be for the visa, it's so ... odd to think I'm going to be a married woman so soon. So much sooner than we had planned.

I probably pushed this too quickly, all things considered. From a money perspective it would have been sensible to wait until after Christmas so I had my bonus and stuff in to pay for the wedding, but I was so keen to get married in 2013, it has been such a good year for us after all.

Thinking about how blessed we were with timing of the visa, the flights, and all our deliveries arriving, I can only hope that fate keeps blessing us for just a little bit longer and helps us pull this off without destroying my good credit rating.

And until he's here I think my brain will just keep being confused by this strange new reality where I'll no longer have to spend 12 hours a day on a computer.

Lucky 13

Last year as I put my Christmas tree up, and cried over another Christmas without Americo, I sobbingly declared it was our last Christmas apart.

Though I was determined it would be so, I had a lot of doubt we could make it happen. I'd have to save so much money, the application was so expensive, there was so much paperwork to be done, and of months the waiting. 

Immigration were so clear it'd be 5-12 months, and we didn't get the paperwork in until August, so we wouldn't have Christmas, but maybe we'd get lucky for valentines day. 

Today, on a day off from work, after two days plagued with migraines, I was hoping to sleep in. Instead Americo called me at 6:30. I was nauseous and tired, wanted more sleep, until he told me he was coming to Australia. Forever. 

No more 3 months here or 3 months there. I can finally plan the wedding and plan for the future. 

More sleep became impossible, of course, so I decided to check flights. Obviously Air New Zealand decided it was fate we be together, and was having a fare sale allowing us to score flights for $1000 including extra luggage. 

And now, as it turns out, my husband to be will be here in 26 day. Less than two pay periods. 

We get to have Christmas, and new year, and valentines day. My birthday, his birthday, the birth of princess Santa Jesus. We get to have anniversaries and dinner parties and find a new house. 

And on 25 December 2013 I get to wake up with my man, I get to play Lego marvel superheroes all day on the PS4, we get to cook pulled pork and raspberry BBQ sauce, or visit my mum, and we get to do it together. 

Despite all my doubts and stress, 13 yet again turns out to be my lucky number, and it is with slightly confused shock that I retire the "Ruth and Americo 2014" tag and replace it with "Ruth and Americo 2013".

I get to see my gorgeous man in 26 days, and this time I don't have to give him back. 

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

A wonderful thing happened on the way to the mall

I had to head into the mall today to meet my mum. A major effort in the face of a morning facing a pretty epic migraine.

Parked the car, making my way up to the Apple store and a text message arrives telling me my gorgeous fiancé is, in fact, not a criminal. The FBI said so. The state of California has also said so.

The confirmation of this already established fact was received today from the FBI, completing our very long trek to pull together a rather large folder full of paperwork that is currently residing at the Australian embassy in Washington.

With the receipt of the FBI check we now just need to wait for the case officer to consider the combined application and decide if we, as a couple, are worth the risk.

Are we established enough, do we have enough evidence of our relationship, have we done enough to prove that we're the real deal.

It'll be an anxious wait, no matter how sure we are of our paperwork.

This has been such a huge emotional and financial effort and I'm still not prepared to invest in too much in hope.

But I'm also not too invested in fear or anxiety.

We're just waiting, as we have been since August, as we'll continue to do until word arrives, positive or negative.

Neither of us are the type to ask for your thoughts and prayers. We're not the praying type at all. Come to think we're not the power of positive thinking type either. But if you are the thoughts and/or prayers type, we're not going to be unhappy if you add us to your list of things to hope for.

Regardless of how things turn out, we're grateful for everyone who has invested in this journey with us.

Waiting...

It's a month today since we received the email from Immigration asking for the final information for our application.

The medical is done.

The police check received.

The FBI check has been lodged and we've been waiting 3 weeks for it to arrive.

And it feels like forever.

This process is so much about waiting. This whole relationship has been about waiting. I feel like every minute of the last six years has been set to a count down timer, but this time there is no count down. There is no way to know when the waiting comes to an end.

With the waiting comes fear, doubt, worry.

What if we don't have enough evidence. What if the medical results aren't enough. What if we're denied this visa and we can't get married here, he can't live here, we have to keep doing this for even longer.

There's so much now that is out of our hands, and in the hands of someone on the other side of the world to me that doesn't know me, doesn't know us, and yet has complete control over our fate.

How can we even resolve the uncertainty of that type of situation? How do you cope with it day to day when you're alone and dealing with so much in your personal life without your partner with you. We have so much amazing technology, and yet, it's not the same as having someone to hug and cry with at the end of the day.

I miss my fiancé.

It's a year since I've seen him, held him, kissed him.

I'm tired and I want my husband.

I want to be able to properly plan our wedding. I want to put a deposit down on this gorgeous cafe

I want a wedding ring to go with the perfect engagement ring I finally have on my finger. 

We have waited for so long this, and we deserve it.

I desperately hope we can progress this soon.

It is done.

It's completed. It's in the envelope. It's going in registered post tomorrow.

I will now actively commence not stressing in the slightest because Americo has threatened to withhold my engagement ring if I start going crazy(er).

Were I the praying type I would be actively doing that. A lot.

Checklists

I hate checklists. I hate "to do" lists. One would think, given my slightly (ha ha ha) compulsive nature, that I would love the organisation associated with lists, but not so much.

My theory, and preference, is that I should never have enough to do to hit a list. My workload is, or should be, under control. I have a good memory, so making a list is a bit of a waste for me. I know where shit is at. The same applies to my personal life, if you're organised you don't need lists.

My current state of listing is irritating. I have lists within lists. I have three immigration lists and two personal lists related to our immigration application. I have lists of documents, lists of what money is coming in, lists of what needs to get done, lists of who I need to talk to, lists of money going out. Sublists to each thing I have to do to indicate whether there is a form to go with outgoing/incoming money on x date. I hate it.

My passport arrived today (how great is this nail colour).

It ticks a lot of boxes in a lot of places. It's on nearly all the lists and was causing me a lot of stress. 

With this out of the way the list gets smaller in a lot of ways, and that gives me a bit of peace. 

To do:

• complete two application forms with passport number 
• sign one application form
• get certified copies of:
• drivers licence
• birth certificate
• marriage certificate
• divorce decree
• passport
• Finalise letters of support
• Complete document index and email to Americo
• Courier the folder of death to Americo
• Spend $3000 just for kicks
• Americo get medical
• Americo get police check
• Make Americo get certified copies of:
• drivers licence
• birth certificate
• passport
• Make Americo go through each page of the 200 page folder with me on Skype to make sure everything is perfect and signed where it's supposed to be signed. 
• Send to the embassy
• wait
• wait
• wait
• wait
• wait
• spend $2000 on flights
• get married

See why I hate the list. 

Shit be getting real, yo.

I think it would be fair to say that when I decide to do something, I throw myself into it fairly hard and with no small measure of intensity.

It's not that I'm one track focussed, I can focus on multiple things at one time, and give them equal attention, and equal intensity, but when I decide that x is going to happy by a certain date, fuck you I'm going to make it happen.

Exhibit A. I realised that once I had my tax return Americo and I would be in a financial situation to finally bring this long distance shit to an end. And it was like a light bulb exploded over the entire district of Gungahlin. I was going to make this shit happen. No ifs, no ands, no buts, 2014 my man was going to come to this country, and my golly he was not going to leave again. He would be mine forever and that was that.

The last week my brain hasn't been able to go 5 minutes without seeing that goal. All of a sudden the oh so daunting 26 (x2) immigration forms were completed. The clarifying phone calls to immigration I'd been putting off were done and clarity received. The 190 pages of evidence I hadn't wanted to collect was done and put together and in a nicely psychotic folder with a 3 page index.

My ridiculous and at this point slightly problematic obsessive behaviour is nicely detailed below. Dodgy redactions of personal information not withstanding.

Since we decided to kick this shit into high gear we've put together a whole application together. Skype logs, email captures, paypal records, amazing order, twitter conversations, facebook relationship, travel records, we've found a celebrant, lodged a notice of intended marriage (a legal requirement), and got a statement from the celebrant that we can give to immigration. My passport is 40% processed, we've organised a credit card to cover the shortfall in our savings. We've asked questions of the embassy and found the ONE doctor in the Bay area who can do an immigration medical. 

And if we lodge everything by the end of July there's a chance that we'll pull of our guesstimate wedding date of February 2014. 

And my brain is going to explode. 

For six years (next month) we've done this whole relationship on a computer, basically. We've done our time together, always amazing, but our relationship has been sponsored by Skype, really. And the reality that there's a time, a time not far away, that just maybe I might be able to get a hold on this dude and NOT have to give him back is filling me with spectacular butterflies. 

I could do without the unexpected expenses of the celebrant, and spilling water on my computer, and medicals, and character checks and every other damn thing which is stressing me out, but I am loving the feeling that there is a light at the end of the very long tunnel and that I'm going to get to get married sometime in 2014. 

Six years, and finally we're here.

And really all that's left is to hope, pray, beg, for the department of immigration to approve our prospective marriage visa. I have never wanted anything so hard in my life. 

I will be absolutely destroyed if we're rejected. 

It continues - Update 1

Previous post http://ruthico.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/it-begins.html

Step number 1 on our very long list of requirements is that I need to have a current passport. I actually do have a current passport but it's in my old name.

When I changed my name I actually put in an application to change to my new name, and there was some problems with that. Problems possibly caused by me writing the passport office a letter telling them that they're antiquated and sexist. Regardless, 18 months later I need a current passport in my current name to bring Americo to Australia.

I jumped onto the passport application site and followed the instructions to the letter. It was one of those interactive forms, type in your name here, press next, type in your date of birth, press next. There was little pop up instruction boxes for if you don't know how to fill in your name, etc. Webforms for dummies type stuff.

Being an ICT professional I was careful to read all instructions and follow them to the letter. I know full well how particular the government is and I didn't want to give them any reason to delay things.

Do everything I'm told, take it to the interview at Australia Post, and get turned away because my form was printed on double sided paper. Now, website said nothing, it said ready to print, press ok, it printed. No pop-up, no make sure it prints single sided, no nothing, but the idiot asshole in the post office refused to accept it printed double sided. And was rude about it as well.

And then the kicker, he gives me a hard copy form to complete. A double sided hard copy form. DOUBLE SIDED hard copy form. Tells me to make an appointment in two weeks and they'll reconsider.

Of course I lost my shit. Maybe I said he looked messy and unprofessional and should learn some manners. Maybe I overreacted a tiny smidge. MAYBE.

I did lodge a complaint, I did get an interview for today at a different post office with nice people.

I did read every single line of every single instruction on the damn form. So did one of my staff who was acting as guarantor that I'm not a bad person. We still managed to miss him completing his date of birth, but thankfully the rest of the form was complete and correct.

I lodged it today. I hope to have it in two weeks.

Next step: Money. Always money.

Money for the doctor. Money for the application. $2684 for the application alone. Non-refundable.

And not just the money, but the timing for the money. The medical only lasts for 12 months, and sometimes it takes more than 12 months to process a visa, so you want to wait til the last minute to do the medical. But you need to pay for the application to be lodged around the same time. And then you need to send all the paperwork within 7 days of paying for the application.

I hope to have the money for everything by the start of August when I get my tax return back. The plan is to have all the forms completed and evidence gathered by the end of July, by which point I will have passport and money.

And then the long wait begins.

It begins...

Today I officially officially kicked off the start of the visa journey to get my darling man into this country for good. Or at least for longer than 3 months.

I got the information I needed from Immigration.

I got my passport forms completed, got my passport photos, and made an appointment to lodge my passport paperwork. If you're anything like me you're totally astounded that I need a passport to bring my partner here when I'm not actually leaving the country, but let's agree to move part that for now.

We've decided that we're going to go for a Prospective Marriage Visa, rather than a Partner Visa, despite our motza amount of evidence to prove our relationship because the processing times are shorter, and less evidence is required so we have a slightly better chance of getting things approved.

The downside is it cost us an extra $1000 to convert it to a partner visa after we get married, but if that means he gets here sooner and I get to get hitched sooner, then so be it.

It takes about four weeks for my passport to process, which gives us four weeks to get all our paperwork together, and for us to get the last little bit of money we need to lodge all the forms, and then, all things going to plan we're lodging this sucker in early August.

I'm not the optimistic type so I'm trying not to let the words "christmas miracle" get into my head, but I've seen Miracle on 34th Street a few too many times, so you know....

No doubt you'll be seeing updates as they occur, if you're interested in that kind of thing.

Winter

For many winter is a time of depression. The world is grey. The weather is dreary. It's cold. So so cold.

For me, for the last four years, winter has been a time of joy. Something to look forward to. Winter is always the time I get to spend with Americo.

Winter is cozy blankets. Mainlining a TV series. Trips to Starbucks for pumpkin spice lattes. Spicy Chinese shared for lunch. Late nights. Late mornings cuddling.

Winter is our time.

Until now.

There is no trip this year. There is no Halloween. No Christmas trees. No sunsets on windblown beaches. No pecan pie. No family Thanksgiving.

There is just me.

And I can rationalise it. I understand it, I really do. It's been long enough with the trips back and forth. We want this visa. Desperately. There is nothing I want more than the thing where I get to pick him up from the airport and not give him back.

I dream about it constantly.

Picking him up at the airport, straight to hotel to change, wedding in the Asian Gardens in Darling Harbour, a week down the coast soaking in warm winter sunshine and watching spectacular storms crashing across the bay.

And so I have my first winter without him in four years.

My first whole year without him in four years.

I will not see my fiancé in 2013 and I have no words for the heartbreak of that.

Winter is here. The world is grey. Rain. Wind. Storms. And cold, painful, biting, down to my bones, freezing my joints cold.

This year there is no sunshine to brighten my winter.

Like the song says, there ain't no sunshine when he's gone.

Love Story

I get asked pretty regularly how I survive my very long distance relationship. And I get asked pretty regularly how I've done it for nearly 6 years and we're still trying to get into the same place permanently.

The first answer is easy. We have Skype, we have email, we have iMessage. We talk to each other constantly. I talk to him 5-6 times a day and message all day. We share photos of our day, we relate our lives to each other in minute detail. And then we get home and we Skype we catch up on the news, social events, constantly talk tech, politics, gaming, comics, movies. We watch movies together because we can perfectly time our Apple TV's so we're in sync. We talk pretty constantly for 3-4 hours on Skype, plus during the day.

We have everything you have in your in person relationship, except that we're cooking for one and we desperately miss the cuddles, the kisses, and the intimacy that comes with being in the same country.

How do we do this for nearly 6 years?

Every day with him is a gift. All my previous relationships involved me giving more, being more, than my partner. I had to sacrifice so much to be with the person in loved. In a couple of relationships I nearly sacrificed my sanity to be with my chosen love. In this relationship we are equal. He encourages me to have my career, my passions, he builds my strength and confidence in myself every day, and he has never judged me for how I manage my fairly constant anxiety. He has never once asked me to not take medication. He has never once told me it's all in my head. He supports me every day through all my choices and I do the same for him.

Over the last 5+ years I have learned so many wonderful details of the man I love. From his terrible handwriting, to the time he spends in the shower, to the fact his poems always rhyme and he has no idea how to cook Spanish rice, but can tell me how to cook Spanish rice, it's all contributed to this glue that is us and what we're becoming.

Every day I learn new things, about what he loves, what we share, the passions and hopes we have for our future together and the children we want, the life we hope to live when we manage to make our dreams become a reality.

All those things are magical to me. And so, when someone asks how it is we can do this thing for so long, it mystifies me, because how can we not?

My dad always told me this story that he said was from Norse mythology.

In the beginning there was no man, no woman, there was just one being, one whole, perfectly balanced. Then the gods shook the earth and the being split in half and the halves were scattered all around the world, destined to search high and low for the other half that achieved the perfect balance. Sometimes that perfect half is a perfect friend, someone who understands you when you don't even understand yourself. Sometimes it's a life partner that gives you the strength to be all you want to be. They bring your soul peace.

In my life Americo is that. Both perfect friend, and perfect life partner. He is yin to my yang. Together we are the balance that allows us both to find where we are supposed to be. We never step in front of each other, trying to be first, we simply side by side provide the support that makes us bother stronger, better people.

There is no answer to why we keep doing this, how we can be this strong, this committed, this enduring. We simply are, because the alternative is that to be without each other doesn't make any sense at all.

Because we are us. And us is amazing.

I had a plan...

I was going to be good today. I had a plan. It involved being calm and listening to podcasts, and getting through the day just fine. I wasn't going to dwell on Americo going home, I was going to focus on the fact we're finally getting our shit together and next year we'll make the visa thing happen.

I was going to put together a checklist of things I had to do to start pulling together all the visa paper work (again), hook up the printer, and start doing instead of sitting around sobbing.

I wasn't going to dive into a bucket of donuts and a giant bowl of pasta.

I wasn't going to throw up all over myself.

Obviously, this plan was pretty unrealistic.

Airport, totally fine. Got moved to a direct flight, kept his economy plus seat even though he changed flights, we did the quick goodbye to avoid the inelegant airport hysterics, I paid my $20 for 30 minutes of parking (I wish I was joking) and got on the road.

Aisha Tyler's podcast is a delight. Nathan Fillian and Wayne Brady charming and delightful guests. I had a fabulous cheesecake in Goulburn and all was well. A tiny tear in the airport, a catch in the throat when he called before boarding, no problems. I'm a calm, put together, type a control freak, I can just keep moving and get home.

And then, what I can do is go to the supermarket, burst into tears while trying to pick a leek, and then get home and vomit all over myself because I cried til I couldn't breathe, which for me leads to hurling.

So, plan fail. Spectacular fail. Chocolate mousse cheesecake vomit fail.

Btw, chocolate mousse cheesecake is not something you want to vomit all over yourself. It doesn't taste good coming up. It's sticky. And no grown up should ever have to clean vomit out of their hair unless they're absolutely wasted after too many mojitos.

I don't really know what to do next. Go have a shower and wash the vomit out of my hair, I suppose. Make pasta, eat donuts, get my shit together and start planning. Even the shower seems pretty impossible right now. Food total idiocy. Getting my shit together is probably the most hysterical concept of all.

I don't remember how to plan days that don't involve coming home to him. I don't want to remember.

I just wish this shit wasn't so fucking hard. Love shouldn't have to involve leaving someone you love at an airport. It just shouldn't.

Leaving on a jet plane

It is not at all surprising that I'm not feeling great this week. Or last week. My man leaves this week to go back to San Francisco, after 9 weeks with me. It's sad, and I know I have the 'right' to be sad, because this is one of those times where sad is 'normal'.

My problem though, is not the normal level of sad that other people feel when their partner goes back overseas for an indeterminate amount of time, it's the potential for sad so bad it knocks me on my ass for 3 weeks and prevents me functioning like a human.

The last two times we did this, after I left San Francisco, and the last time he left here a year ago, it came after two weeks of solid depression to the point I was nearly unable to function. The two weeks before I left San Francisco I was almost totally incapable of getting out of bed.

I'm terrified of that happening again. Terrified of being unable to get out of bed, unable to eat, unable to work, unable to think of anything other than how wrong it feels to not be in the same country as my guy.

I think about all the things I'll get back to doing when he's gone, to try and make myself feel better. I'll start working out again, not because he prevents me doing that, but because I'd rather be with him for the time he's here, than spend 75 minutes o a treadmill. I'll start eating better again, not because he stops me eating well (the exact opposite in fact) but because I like to not think about portion size and skipping dessert when he's here. I like trying new food with him, and I don't care that it's making my cholesterol sky rocket. I'll be able to save money faster just because I'm only feeding one, which obviously halves the grocery budget.

These are ridiculous thoughts, because of course they don't even come close to making it ok that I sleep better when he's here. And I'm less afraid of life, because I don't have to face it alone when he's here.

I am terrified this time, more than the other times, of having to go back to living on my own again.

All the other times he's left, or I've left, I've come home to someone. I had a housemate to distract me from the terrifying aloneness that I feel when he's on the other side of the ocean, and this time I don't have that.

Thursday is getting closer by the day, and him leaving is awful and heartbreaking, and not the worst of what I'm feeling as the time gets closer. The thing that really has me in a tizzy is coming home to my empty apartment, my empty bed, empty fridge, empty closet, and no distractions to get me through the 15 hour flight until he's on Skype.

I fear what that 15 hours is going to do to my sanity and the shreds of emotional control I've built up over the last year.

Have I built up my sense of self and internal control enough to survive Thursday's heartbreak?

Guess we'll find out.

A perfect moment

I turned 34 today. It was pretty awesome all round, though the dread and depression has been building for weeks, as it does.

Got my hair done, had awesome cupcakes, went on crafty adventures around town, had a fuss made over me, and got a few perfect presents from wonderful friends who helped me (without even knowing) through the birthday blues. 

And to end the day a perfect moment...

Sometimes Americo, when he's really tired, falls asleep when we're on Skype. And it's perfect. I can hear him breathe and it's like he's here with me, even though there's such a huge distance between us. 

This is the first birthday I've been without him in three years. It's been tough, but that perfect moment of hearing him sleep, it made it better. 

I love you smoosh, this year I get to have you here for your birthday, and that's going to be just about the most perfect birthday present you can give me. 

Time Travel

For me, music is memory. I hear a certain song and it takes me to a time, a place, a moment that is special to me.

I hear Rossini's William Tell Overture and I'm at my fathers old house, listening to a crackling fire, drinking hot, sweet, milky tea, and listening to dad read me and Yolande the Hobbit with all the voices.

I hear Peter Paul and Mary and I'm on one of hundreds of long car trips with mum and Davy going to Melbourne, or Sydney, or Brisbane, or driving across America listening to Davy sing along to every song.

Because of this attachment to music, which I'm sure is genetic, the gift that Americo got me for Christmas this year is probably the best gift I've ever been given. He made me a mix tape. Of all the songs that are "us". Our Rockband favourites, the ones that we'd hear in the car when we were driving around San Francisco or from Sydney to Canberra after a long plane flight, or the ones that just remind us of each other. Every moment of our four and a half years together, all on one USB drive.

I went for a long drive today and listened to all the song and it was like he wasn't 12,000km away, it was like he was in the car with me. I could smell the Cool Water and feel his hand on my leg and every song was perfect.

And since they're all in my head, a list, and some of my favourite memories:

Hey there Delilah - Plain White Tee's
It was probably near midnight on a Sunday night and I'd been called into work to do some testing. And the road was empty and it was cold and this song came on the radio and it just reminded me of him. We didn't know where we were going, friends, something more, was it too soon after my divorce, was the long distance too tough, but in that moment, listening to that song, I thought of nothing but him. And that was that, all the questions were irrelevant, we'd make it work.

Bubbly - Colbie Caillat
Just one of those songs, it was probably the lyrics, but we just loved it. The lyrics reminded him of me. And it just become special over time.

California Love - Dr Dre Tupak 
Obviously.

Oh Sherrie - Steve Perry 
So ridiculous. For a week on my first trip to San Francisco he had this song stuck in his head and had no idea what it was or who did it. Then we were in a winery in Napa and they were playing it in the background and we were both singing along with it trying to remember the name of the song. It was a great moment.

Sweet Child O'Mine - Guns'N'Roses
Once upon a time I was telling Americo about a crush I had when I was 14. This crush, wannabe poet and bad boy, gave me a love note once that was the lyrics to Sweet Child and Americo thought that was pretty pathetic. And so, he rewrote Sweet Child with new lyrics, just for me. It's somewhere in my house on a piece of paper, but I can't find it.

I'm Afraid of Americans - Bowie
Ha!

Piano Man - Billy Joel
Wake Me Up When September Ends - Green Day
Superstition - Stevie Wonder 
ABC - Jackson 5
Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen
our favourite Rockband songs. Some mornings when I was in SF we would wake up, before even coffee, and start playing, singing our throats sore.

Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons
Every time we got in a car in San Francisco EVERY TIME this song was on the radio. And we'd sing along like idiots.

New York Minute - The Eagles
From the West Wing episode Somebodies Going to Emergency, Somebodies Going to Jail, one of my favourite episodes of my favourite show. We've watched it together a few times, and watched it apart a few times. Just this Christmas I started watching it, and was a couple of episodes into season 1, and then he decided he wanted to watch it too. So I spent whole days half watching where I was up to, and more time listening to the episode he was watching. And we'd talk about politics, and the characters, and science, and language and just talk for hours. About everything. And it was perfect. He's my Toby, my amazing writer.

Land Down Under - Men at Work
He taunts me with this song. Constantly.

And dozens and dozens of other songs that were moments of our lives that are precious and wonderful and just make me love him so much that he would sit down and think of these songs that mean so much to us.

Thank you, love, it means so much that you know me "us" so well. And that you know me so well that you knew I'd love this.

Now every time I get into the car instead of listening to a shitty radio show with sexist hosts and bad music I get to remember all the great moments we've had together. And I'll probably be far less cranky at work.

Tempus fugit

This time last year I was packing for a 3 month trip to San Francisco. I was winding down at work, getting my new assistant ready to be hurled in the deep end, and stressing more than a little about what it would be like to not work, not have responsibilities for 3 months. And oh lord I was anxious about how I'd fit in with Americo's family.

As this blog will attest, it was an amazing trip. Looking back on the photos, and the occasional real post, is a reminder that I had the trip of a lifetime. I met amazing people, spent a grand amount of time with my dear friend Amanda, had a Thanksgiving of a lifetime with a wonderful caring family that have inspired me for many years, and I got to wake up with Americo every day. And not like we do here, with my alarm going off at 6.20, but with knowing that for the most part we don't have to do anything but what we want.

There is nothing quite like that joy of knowing that you get 3 months of paid play time with someone you love.

A year later, and it feels like loneliness has taken over my life. I live in a mild despair that I don't know when the next trip is. For him or me. We don't know when we'll see each other next and it's a constant pain in my mind, a constant hurt that I can't fix.

It's turning me in a cold bitch and more than occasionally a sobbing mess.

And I don't know how to fix it.

And so, the temptation to take this blog down is huge. The photos are a painful reminder now, of when things weren't so tough and I was full of hope about what 2011 would bring. 2012 looms large on the horizon, and it doesn't feel like hope it brings with it. It feels like it is bringing more loneliness and depression, with only a sprinkling of "your time will come".

I wish I could find it in me to cope better with this, but as it turns out, I'm kind of bad at coping.

I'm here, he's not, and fuck the whole world.

Everyone that knows me is probably pretty sick of my long distance relationship whining. Which is fair enough, because about every 3-4 months or so I do one of these posts about how despondent I am after leaving my fiance at an airport.

This post is no exception.

I picked up Americo at the Sydney airport on April 4th this year. It seems completely impossible that three months have gone by in the cliched heart beat and I've had to take him back to Sydney to see him smile at me sadly before he goes around the corner into security.

I had thought, this being our fourth adventure into this particular piece of heart break, that this time might be easier, and for most of the trip it was. I was holding it together so well, no tears, super tough, til 3/4 of the way home.

And then there was a guy singing on a podcast I love and shit totally went south. I had no idea who he was, since as far as I know we don't get the Voice over here, but this guy was singing solo and it killed me. The simple start of Water to Wine and the tears started, by half way through the song I had to pull over, and had to stay on the side of the road sobbing for a good 30 minutes. Damn that Nakia (songs are available on iTunes, check them out).

Anyway, made it home safely, did the groceries, and sobbed my way around an empty house which is too quiet, and smells like his cologne.

The couch is too empty, the bed too big, and the whole fucking world is stupid and I hate you all with your husbands, wives, partners in the same city as you. Even the same country as you. The same continent. I hate you all.

It's all cliche that you appreciate things more if you have to work for them, and it seems to be true in this case, since every trip, and every absence makes this both easier and harder in equal measure. And it's more worth it every day, because I love this guy, from his stupid ass jokes (you really have NO IDEA just how stupid they are) to his dumb notes on the pantry telling me to eat vegetables.

One day soon we'll figure our shit out, he'll sell a movie, I'll pay out my debt, and I'll move to California because he's there, and I'm here, and that's just stupid.