Mice and Men

via

The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Go oft askew,
An' leave us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy! 

I'm often loathe to speak too soon of upcoming plans for exactly this very reason. Shit happens.

Prospects change and more often than not what can go wrong will.

Right now for example many plans have been in the works.

Research and excitement has been building.

Dates have been made and then changed.

I've set things into sequence only to have them suddenly come to a standstill.

I won't say much more about this except that I will persevere for as long as opportunity allows.

While I might be slightly apprehensive as to whether these plans will eventuate I'm also excited at the possibility of finally being able to share them with you all.

One success at a time.

But oh! I backward cast my eye,

On prospects dreary!

And forward, though I cannot see,

I guess and I fear! 

<Poem excerpts courtesy of

Robert Burns - To A Mouse>

Surrender

The Enemy Within

She sits within a crystal heart, adorned by a crown of thorns.

She whispers things inside your head and plants them as your own.

She fills your heart with dread and doubt and when hope comes about,

She hunts the source, she finds the light and snuffs the candle out.

~K

We all struggle now and then to see ourselves as our own best friends as opposed to being our very worst enemies.

I can honestly say I am comfortable in my own company (a little too comfortable at times, you could say that I prefer it) and mostly I can accept that this is who I am and that my body is not me but is merely the vehicle that transports my unique little soul around this world enabling me to leave my own individual mark upon it.

But then something happens to set it all askew.

The inner crazy lady starts to come out of her usual hiding place.

For some, someone may make an idle comment towards them that hits a little too close to home.

A raw nerve is struck sparking that inner dialogue of self doubt and despair.

Or maybe life starts spinning a bit too fast to keep a grasp of, sending the old stress levels and emotions spiralling out of control.

In my case it's always the same… my body, that so called temple, inevitably lets me down right when I want it to rise to the occasion most.

It's no secret around here that I've been TTC for quite a while now, although I have been making a deliberate and conscious effort not to talk about it anymore, around here at least.

(I hope you've noticed, I've been aiming to exude a more positive vibe around here and less of the ' let's hop aboard the waa-waa train')

I've been taking more walks, capturing the beauty in the world around me, making future plans (that don't involve babies) and generally nurturing a happy mindset.

It was all going so well.

My cycle was steady, my tests and scans all came back clear and best of all I'm down to less than 10 follicles within both ovaries.

To all those not in the know, that translates to PCOS free! Hooooooraaaahh!!!!

We then uped the ante and changed physicians resulting in a prescription of Clomid which in theory would force ovulation and regulate my cycle back to 28 days. 

I felt the weight of these past 6 years lift off my shoulders at the imminence of a practical plan.

All we had to do was wait for my next cycle so we could finally begin my treatment.

Can you guess what happened next?

Yep, no period.

It's been 98 days since my last cycle and still nada… (but who's counting?)

This body, this vessel I'm supposed to care so much for has decided it doesn't want to join in on the party. Why co-operate when it can do whatever the hell it feels like?

At first my crazy lady reared her ugly head;
"Don't treat yourself poorly? Be your own best friend? HA! Pppft! How can you not see your stupid body as the enemy when it only serves to sabotage you at every given opportunity?"

I could have taken this direction and run with it but you know what?

I actually can't be arsed. I can't be bothered caring anymore.

Being sad and mopey and depressed and whatever else you want to add to the already salted wounds just takes too much effort.

Equally, hoping and wishing and generally trying to keep the flame alight is just as tiring if not more. 

I. Can't. Be. Bothered.

You hear that body? I give up.

You win. I surrender!

That's it, I've had enough. I'm tired of fighting for the promise of nothing.

I don't want to see anymore doctors. I'm sick of feeling like a specimen.

I've given more blood for samples than the average person donates to save lives and spent enough money on specialists and their tests to fund a round the world trip!

When I think of that waste alone I could weep.

I. Am. Done.

Why focus another minute on something that clearly doesn't want to be?

Now that the usual culprits have been eliminated what other reason can there be for my lack of fertility besides my body screaming loud and clear:
"I DON'T WANT TO!"

There is no enemy within. The only enemy has been me and for 6 years I've waged war against myself.

This is my time to live. This moment right here is the only thing that counts.

Tomorrow may rain, it may not. 

The world might end this year. It may not.

There's always a chance things could go either way however slim but even if someone could tell me the exact day I would become a mother would I just sit around waiting for it to happen?

And what if they could tell me it never would, would I curl up in a ball and cease to exist?

It's going to be hard to let go, I've spent so long "trying".
Although I am mega excited to be giving up those bloody temperature charts. Forget throwing them out, I feel like lighting a bonfire with them and burying them in the backyard!

I want to know how it feels to not care anymore about babies and creation or the science behind it all.

I want to travel and laugh and take too many pictures.

I want to rest and rejuvenate and meditate on creating inner peace.

I want to make love with my partner because the mood strikes and not because some test says my 'window of opportunity is open'.

Every window, bench, floor, table top and goddamn rooftop will be my open opportunity from now on - haha, avert your eyes!

And if life doesn't wish to be created within me? Then so be it.

I am content to create life in every step I dance to, in every mark I leave upon a persons heart and within every beat of my own in this world for as long as I'm blessed to live it.

The Dash

I read of a man who stood to speak 

at the funeral of a friend.

He referred to the dates on her tombstone

From the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth

and spoke of the following date with tears,

But he said what mattered most of all

was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time

that she spent alive on earth

and now only those who loved her

know what that little line was worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,

the cars,

the house,

the cash,

what matters is how we live and love

and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard;

Are there things you'd like to change?

For you never know how much time is left

that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down long enough

to consider what's true and real

And always try to understand

the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger

and show appreciation more

and love the people in our lives

like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect

and more often wear a smile,

remembering that this special dash

might only last a while.

So when your eulogy is being read

with your life's actions to rehash

Would you be proud of the things they say

and how you spent your dash?

~Linda Ellis

Day 26: Friendship

So very true.

New Friends and Old Friends© Joseph Parry

Make new friends, but keep the old;

Those are silver, these are gold.

New-made friendships, like new wine,

Age will mellow and refine.

Friendships that have stood the test -

Time and change - are surely best;

Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray,

Friendship never knows decay.

For 'mid old friends, tried and true,

Once more we our youth renew.

But old friends, alas! may die,

New friends must their place supply.

Cherish friendship in your breast-

New is good, but old is best;

Make new friends, but keep the old;

Those are silver, these are gold.

So now rather than boast about my friends many talents and strong points till I make you all fall down in a pile of schmaltzy shtick I thought I'd use this opportunity to flex my poetry bone in order to best describe how I feel about my friends.
Excuse me if it sounds adolescent, it seems this is my style...
no matter how hard I try to write otherwise :/

Blessed Friends © Katerina Berry

Without friends the world looks dreary,

Without friends my heart grows weary.

The love of friends it keeps me strong,

The Love of friends is a chosen bond.

So many friends by them I'm blessed,

They've chosen me out from the rest

To have and hold, kept by their side

In this roller-coaster lifelong ride.

Each friendship made and even those broken

a chapter of my life they have spoken

And even though I've been blessed with few

My friends please know I am blessed to have you.

xo

Kat

Couldn't agree more.

Dreams

Like a trapped bird my heart flutters

with the delicate wings of dreams,

The morning sun taps my eyelids

and a glow seeps in through the seams.

Your face is already fading

and my mind is clouded with doubt

As to what is real or fiction

and which world I'd rather keep out.

- Katerina 27/7/11

Image source

Kato Kleinai - Florina

I did manage to find one poem that wasn't all about heart break & doom.
It's a rather pretty account of my observations of a tiny village in Greece that I spent 3 months of my youth in.
Considering I was only 14 at the time I wrote it I think its quite a mature account and reading it manages to take me back there, flooding my mind with memories of a much simpler place and time.
I hope you get some enjoyment out of it too.

Kato Kleinai 

By day the village belongs to the children and their dreams.
As they run on it's gravel surface and lay on its moss & grass,
The mountains watch all around them
protecting them from all the dangers of the outside world.
As the sun beats down making the earth a dry, warm blanket
the children keep on playing,
never minding the heat but continuing their crazy wild fun 
'till dusk comes to remind them of home.
Finally the sun kisses the mountains goodnight
and together they stain the view a mixture of 
greens, purples, pinks and blues.
The lamps in the street slowly blink on,
and the children tiredly make their way home.
By night the village is transformed
and the teens come out to claim it.
The air is filled with the sweet smell of perfume
and the crisp scent of cologne.
All childish laughter has faded now 
and is dominated by teenage gossip,
While the earth gets trampled and scuffed by rushing feet,
the old deserted school yard becomes their moonlit playground.
Groups come and go
leaving behind empty sunflower shells
and drained cigarette butts mark their territory.
As the minutes crawl to hours
the gossip begins to die down,
The teens get bored and restless
as there's nothing left to fill the time.
They slowly leave the area
with a few shouts and smart jeers,
before too long everyone leaves the streets
and goes home to rest in bed.
Those few precious hours before dawn
belong to the village alone,
finally able to rest and rejuvenate for a brand new day.
The wind caresses the leaves of the weeping willows
and carries the scent of mankind out behind the mountains
to be forgotten and left to rest.
The crickets chirp while a galaxy of stars sparkle brightly
in the soft hazy glow of the moon.
Soon the air is filled with the sharp freshness of Geraniums and gentle mountain dew,
Slowly dawn lifts her beautiful face over the shelter of the hills,
And the village of Kato Kleinai is born again.

I can picture myself sitting on my aunts balcony sheltered by the grape vines, book on my lap, pen in hand safely tucked away 3 stories high where no one would notice me taking everything in.
Must've been early on in my trip before i got the courage to start mingling and causing all kinds of ruckus - the sort a small town like that would surely still be talking about.

Well I hope you didn't think that one was as stupid as the last one i posted but I promise there are no more and at least now you know why hehe.

xx
Kat

Sunday Lovin'

So here I am as promised and ready to fill you in on the latest.

What did I do on my refreshed and revitalised Sunday you ask?

• Have a lovely breakfast/brunch perhaps?
• Maybe take a stroll down one of our many Sunday Farmers Markets?
• Hmmm... I could've spent the day on a much beloved road trip to a surprise destination. Pick a highway and keep driving down it till you spot something interesting along the way. Just my kind of adventure!

Um.. no.

How about salami hanging and kitchen appliance shopping?
Yea, it was as thrilling as it sounds and I'm about as impressed as you are. Though I am now the lucky owner of a brand new food processor, salad spinner and pestle & mortar. Somebody hand me an apron!
Do you think he's trying to send me a message...

Let me just describe my hubby first.
He's about as Aussie as they come.
(for any foreigners out there that's a slang term for someone who's the very embodiment of Australia ie: true blue, ocka or in other words a guy who loves all kinds of sports, thinks beer is the equivalent of a health drink and is a plain old funny prick.)

Slowly over the years he's been morphing from a bourbon drinking, parma eating yobo into a beer drinking, parma eating euro.
Suddenly the man who thought salt and pepper was "spicy" is now growing his own herb garden complete with tomatoes and chilli's, pickling his home grown peppers and making his own traditional style salami.
Coming attractions include home made wine, garden grown tomato sauce and soon to come: cellar style Grapa (or rocket fuel, whatever you want to call it - both are much of a muchness really)
I think my father has finally found his long lost protege. It may be time to call a time out on their play dates before he makes a total transformation into my fathers perfect image complete with track suit pants and high gloss dress shoes.

On another note I've decided writing for this blog will be my creative outlet.
Well as far as creative writing goes this will probably be it for me. Blogging is a kind of writing isn't it?
Well if you're waiting for short stories and meaningful poetry I don't think it will be coming my peeps.
I know I said this would be a way for me to give a voice to that little girl within but after reading some of my poetry and literature from my teens I think it may be best if she stayed gagged.
I know all teenagers are prone to being moody and angsty but sweet lordy was I on a whole other level!
Here's a prime example:
When I Cry (feeling warm & fuzzy already aren't you)
Each of my tears
a single rain drop.
Each rain drop
persists into a storm.
Each storm
Produces a dam.
Each dam 
Fills to the brim.
Every end result
is a flood,
And in that flood 
I get swept away.
etcetera, etcetera and more of the above...

Funny how I don't remember being such an unhappy teenager.
I find it amazing how hormones can play such an integral part into the making of mountains from molehills.
Poor poor little adolescents.
It didn't help of coarse that the majority of my poetry was written at roughly the same time I discovered my first love who was consequently also my first heart break. All at a time of heightened emotional fragility.
God, you couldn't pay me enough to relive those years.
Even if I could go back with the knowledge I have now. Thank goodness for the lack of time machines and the wisdom maturity brings.

If I come across my old floppy disk (remember those? Surely now I'm showing my age) maybe I'll share a few short stories after proofing them first of coarse.
Hopefully my memory of those isn't as rose coloured as my recollection of my poetry was.
We shall soon see.

Lovin u & leavin ya -
for now
xx
Kat