A Saturday Running Post

11:24am GMT (UK time)
Running low on funds and nowhere to go for the night. Would have been great to have this information an hour before we're checking out of the hotel with a late checkout...but you know...who needs details. Too bad he didn't get the last two contract offers. Today is going to be fucking great. Did we mention a fucking raging headache. Great times. Panic attacks are fun, yes? Stop moaning up there.


2:50pm
After a long walk and some fresh air, keel is a little more balanced. Forgot our favorite pair of earings,the tiny elephants grandma gave us long before most of us can remember, at the hotel. Hopefully they find them and hold them for us. Still not sure what is going on, but it was nice to have the last few days of relative stability. There's been a Brooke appearance. This is not going to make the day any better, but hopefully not any worse.


4:48pm
Unexpected vehicle expense. (two front tires replaced that had worn to the meshing on the inside walls) Makes us happy we didn't drink that cheap bottle of wine last night. It will make a delicious dinner.


5:42pm
Checking into The Shinning hotel from last weekend. Too late in the day to go visit the alpacas and baby goats. We'll keep an eye out for little boys on Bigwheels and creepy twins in the hallway. RedRum.

He Laughs

Frankie (us) & James at the beach
Frinton, England March, 2012

He says he laughs because he has to. Sometimes he says he laughs otherwise he'd cry. Other days, and often, he laughs because he thinks we're hilarious, genuinely funny.

He loves us.

Today was difficult. We can see it in his eyes. Or rather could, because he is sleeping now.
Today he laughed a lot and said often enough that he has to laugh.
We know. We know he can be honest with us, and we with him. It's what makes our relationship work.

I apologized for us being difficult today, the last couple of days, even though I was not entirely to blame (I didn't spend all day with him, or yesterday), but the part about how we communicate now, in our system, inside of ourselves, and how we have healed and decided to try work together (not always easy), makes it so we accountable, for each other, and individually for ourselves.

He is sweet, tells us that we are allowed to feel how we feel, and feel confused about why we feel the way we do. He lets us all be us, whenever we are who we are.

He laughs, because he loves a "crazy girl".

~ Ivy (et al)

Secrets of the Dead

An English Grave
© 2012

Last week, the last time we were in this village, we went for a walk in a cemetery.

There are a lot of above ground, and half-above ground, stone coffins in graveyards in England. With moss growing on them, holding on for dear life atop death.

Near the church on the cemetery grounds was a lone plot, the top portion of the old coffin jutted out of the ground. The headstone was too weathered to read the year, the name.

A View From A Grave
© 2012

I laid down next to the stone lid of the coffin in the damp green grass and stretched out, staring up at the blue sky, and the spring growth starting on the tree above. Probably creepy to some, taboo to others. I was curious about the person, the height of them and this seemed like the best way to figure it out; and it looked like a comfortable place to lay down. Europeans used to be much shorter, as did nearly everyone, compared to our 5'11" stature, anyway.

Graveyards are interesting. Dead people are interesting. Who was this person that now lays beneath the dirt, concealed by a wooden lid, or under a stone cover. What was their life like, what did they fear, who did they love, what kinds of things did they witness.

The finality, the fact of death, is what drives people to fear in life, and need to know what is at the end. The angst drives the desire to invent the concept of a life after death in order to pacify the unknown of nothingness. Fear, for many, is the reason to repent, to invisible ideas, for poor decisions made in this life. The comforting belief that somewhere, someone, has forgiven them, and when they go to this place, to be with this person, they will live a better life, because they were sorry for the things they did wrong in the first life. The unknown is what keeps people from living the life they have been given, and not just the unknown after death.

Laying there, staring at the sky, I listened. The dead hardly ever speak, and just because you lay next to their eternal resting spot doesn't mean they welcome you, or want to share their secrets.

For some of us nothingness is divine; for some it is scary. Some of us try to wrap our head around the unknown. It tantalizes us. We do not need for there to be a place to go after we depart this earth, we do not need forgiveness from anyone but ourselves - we actually prefer there not be a place after this, and to take responsibility for our own repentance here and now, and live here and now.

I think fear is good sometimes, it can be good. The fear that when this life is over, this is the end. We could have died once by our own hand. We almost died once by the acts of another. All it would have taken the second time was not coming back from unconsciousness. We wouldn't have known the difference had we not come back, but in coming back we know the difference.

This being the only existence people have to live, means one should live it exactly how they want, baring in mind nobody should impede on other people's lives, and overall happiness too heavily just for the sake of their own. Every day the difference is between life and death. You can die any minute, in any number of ways. It's not morbid to think about it, it's healthy to recognize it and live your life accordingly.

In some fear you can find happiness, because you have to. One chance. It's all you get.
When someone perchance lays next to your grave someday, what will you tell them?

At the end, when we are there, waiting in those seconds for the light, or the darkness...or the nothingness, whatever it may be, we don't want "would have", "could have", "should haves"...we want did, tried, tired and ready; and if someone picks of a flower grown from soil and our scattered ashes, we want something to tell them.

A Homey Place To Stay

That feeling that we should be doing something more is just hovering on the surface. We have so much in our head we want to get out, things we want to accomplish, yet once we get to opening up a new document, or starting a new post, working on a project, it buries itself deep, and hides.

The weekend was pretty crap, from what I understand. Today feels better. We've returned to my favourite hotel, the one in a small village, a hamlet. It's a 16th century hotel (built in the 1500's), with amazing rates that include free breakfast. A proper breakfast too, your choice off of a menu, plus pastries, and coffee, and juice. It's a lovely breakfast.

The village is pretty, last time we were here, last week, we took a lot of pictures and even got inspired for a new photography project. This is our third visit, and this time we'll be here for a few days, until about Thursday. It's really too bad I don't have my paints and canvas here.

The smell of the hotel reminds us of our favourite Grandmas house growing up, old wood, coffee and home cooked foods, making it feel homey, which in turn causes us to feel more relaxed and happy than we have. Nothing bad ever happens at Grandmas...at least ours.

The staff of the hotel is so friendly, and the waiter in the pub/restaurant downstairs is an Italian man who is straight out of a movie, quirky, comical and full of energy. The food is good, the rooms are each unique, this being the third room we've stayed in, different from all the previous ones. The place has a lot of character.

While this may seem like some vacation to some, we are seem to be living in England with James, moving around, on a limited budget, because James' flat sold. He is picking up short contracts here and there since not getting the last major one renewed a couple of weeks ago.

Last night we went to dinner for the first time in days, to a place called ChimiChanga; it was nice to have a bit of Mexican, reminded us of home. We have been saving funds by having pre-cooked chicken and buns, salads from grocery store delis, as well as snacks such as yogurt, cereals and fruits, rather than eating at restaurants, or having fast food. It's a fun thing to try to figure out how to cut costs on food by inventing new meal ideas that are balanced of all food groups. Hotels in England don't have microwaves or those small refrigerators, at least none of the ones we have looked into staying at, or have stayed at. Not even that crappy Holiday Inn Express we stayed at one night last week. For breakfast I had an apple and coffee, and for lunch I had two cookies that came with the room, and a cup of soup (this is all very thrilling to you, I am sure).

Not sure what the deal was with the last hotel, it was nice, reminiscent of photos of what the Oval Office looked like in 70's, beige colours with a high ceiling and textured wallpaper below narrow chair railing running around the expanse of the room, and the front hall. It was situated in the countryside outside of Ipswich, England, very beautiful but not much in the way of...exciting.  While it was clean and decent, it had a sort of The Shinning feeling to it, and left us feeling uneasy, and unhappy (not that it was the buildings fault we were unhappy). It's nice to be back, to feel comfortable and have a place to try to get our mental shit together again. A place that feels a bit like home now.

Tomorrow morning will mark one week of our new, temporary, nomad lifestyle. Adventure, because why not.

~ Ivy et al

Home for a couple of days (so far the nicest room we've had here)
(at £29 a night, when you have no place to live, it's a bargain!)

Photos from last weeks visit, and where we are staying for, likely, the remainder of the week.

Back entrance of the hotel

The Guild Room, where you can hang out and read.
It's a lovely room

Scenes from about the village...

We'll write about it more, and add more pictures, including the name of it, when we write about it in our travel blog (Our Frank Adventures). Also, when we aren't staying here anymore (for paranoid reasons).

Really old tree at one of the the village cemeteries. (James figures it's at least 1000 years old)

Just Breath

Posted two hours ago on the wrong blog (our mapping one) from our mobile device. Oddly enough we were struggling with our day a lot more than we are right now, and after we posted the entry from the car, in the parking lot of a Staples, tears in our eyes...we started to feel better. Well, that's not really so odd. It's how writing therapy works, sometimes, for us.


"Sometimes the hurdles are just so wide, sometimes they're put too close together. Sometimes both. They're everywhere, so many, it's starting to take our breathe away.

Let's just breath."

~ C et al