Love, From the US

I've spent the last week and a bit on the West Coast of America. Home for the holidays and all that. Coming back always invokes an array of emotions and a review of life and inevitably love. If this time of year didn't bring that about all on its own, home is a sure fire catalyst. My life here was different for certain, but I don't know that I would say better or worse. Most of my loves originated in the sun, rain and snow of the West Coast. Food, wine, art, writing,music,sport,friends and men are all the first to spring to mind. Love of food and wine only improves with age and time. Musical infatuation builds on experience, while art and sport are dynamic by nature and therefore always evolving. The missing obsession from the list is travel. "Oh the Places You'll Go" was likely my first travel guide and therefore my preoccupation with new lands and languages was most probably incubated in the 714. Directly or indirectly. Friends and men,of course, being the wild cards have seen the most investment, loss and return. Two of the major men in my life are from here so all the places, faces, smells and noises remind me of my successes and mishaps in love, lust and everything in between. I have forged some of the strongest friendships here and learned one of the most devastating lessons of all. Losing a friend hurts much worse then losing a lover. Every trip back, which now seems to only happen once a year, inevitably brings out a side of me that indulges in all the things I could never entertain on a regular basis in my London life. Microbrew beers, great local wines, many late nights in succession, long talks over martinis and excessive flirting with men that could never break my heart. At least that's what I like to tell myself. There's rarely much reality in my trips, save the occasional runny nose or torn ligament from sports. This trip however has seen a mix of harsh reality and fluffy fantasy.
Harsh: My options (according to my mates mum) are having babies with my mate (who as it happens is a woman) and living happily ever after as a gay couple. Sans the sex of course, given that neither of us are actually lesbians. Not that there's anything wrong with being a lesbian, it's just not my thing.
Fluffy: 22 is hot. Enough said.
Harsh: Unfortunately not only boyfriends come and go, friends do too
Fluffy: Everything is half price! It's great!

So with the life review and a new year ahead, I am proposing that I remind myself (and you can hold me to it) that only certain people are worthy of being in our lives. The criteria are many but in the end the pay off is big.

uninspired

The last couple of weeks have been mad busy, but somehow no good stories have emerged. Sure, there have been planes, trains and taxi cabs. There was Istanbul, Paris and everwhere in between. Boys and men and the occasional recall of an uber embarassing close encounter, but overall nothing noteworthy.
To fabricate would be cruel and to abandon lame, but I tell you there's not a tale to tell. I leave for Christmas holidays tomorrow and unless I am struck by genius, this will be my last post for 2007. Sad.

LF(not actually)L(but somewhere in Europe),
GF

Mecca

I am in Istanbul at the moment and my room with a lovely view faces Mecca. How do I know, you might ask? The arrow on the ceiling coupled with the extra loud dose of prayer I am being issued. As my room faces Mecca, the loudspeakers on all the mosques seem to be broadcasting in full stereo volume as I work. It's as if the man with the sing song praying is right beside me making sure that I don't insert anything into the documents I am drafting or emails I am sending that might corrupt the souls of people more trusting then an old jaded PR girl. I needed a break and the melodic prayer got me thinking about Mecca. Personally, as I am not Islamic, I think that everyone has their own version of Mecca. The place or the time or the person that brings you back to who you are and what you stand for. Life gets out of control more often then not and something has to bring you back to reality. So fine reader (well I think it might be more then one now) where is your Mecca? Mine is my sister Julie. She's not my real sister, but we grew up together and she's like blood. Coupled with my little niece and nephew that she kindly bestowed on this world, nothing grounds me more then her voice. The laughter of the little ones is like coming home and her words always remind of who I am. It's over the phone most of the time, but none the less, they are my Mecca.