Aprons and Hair Ribbons

It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve been a very bad blogger. It wasn’t brought to my attention nicely either, rather a friend saying “you suck since you got all in love”.

We’re mature like that, my friends and I. We talks good.

I can’t deny it though, looking through my blog I only seem to write to update on what’s been happening since I haven’t been writing to tell you about what’s been happening (keep up). So yes, slap me around cruel world, I do indeed suck!

We could blame it on the man, referred to henceforth as The Love Of My Life (TLOML even, as we all know how I love that text talk) anyway, we could blame it on him, if it was like, his fault. But it’s not your honour I swear.

I really have been still busily tapping away these past couple of years, and sometimes I even get paid for it. The fact someone is willing to part with some dollars to read my dribble still thrills me. Sadly I don’t earn enough to give up the day job, so I continue to keep that. Sometimes I even turn up.

Other times I sit on the lounge and eat Pringles but that’s a whole other story…..

But what with tapping away chasing a dollar, attending work and trying to look intelligent, renovating a house (um, can no one point out our kitchen STILL isn’t painted yet…….actually do, maybe it will hurry TLOML up to complete it..) anyway, I got slack and stopped. So blame life if anything, blame the crazy people willing to offer me money to type, cause I end up sitting here so long at the laptop trying to think of things to write about, that my brain malfunctions and I realise I have nothing left to write here.

But enough about that, what I do promise is that I’m not going to update you with what’s been going on, cause who wants to hear about the argument about what colour to paint a wall?

I will just jump in with todays thought. Which I haven’t actually thought of yet.

What did excite me today though (I’ll tell you about this whilst I try to think of a thought) what did excite me today was receiving my spotlight catalogue in the mail and seeing some truly heavenly aprons.

Yes, I just wrote that line.

I sense the past two years of co-habiting have changed me somewhat. For the better I think as my wine consumption is very slightly down at least, although lets just say we are still working on that one. But I’ve certainly changed.

Recently at work (one of those days that I turned up and tried to look intelligent I mean) a friend and I were discussing the old style housewives. (Oh wait, best stop to shout hello to Talia - picture me waving madly) anyway, she was telling me about the old handbook on how to be a good housewife. You got your mans slippers out ready, you had tea ready, you put a fresh ribbon in your hair and smoothed your apron and powdered your nose, ready to present him with his pipe and slippers on arrival.

Now, listen up, here is the ‘new me’ bit.

I didn’t scoff, I was quietly alarmed that all that feminist bra burning had gone on, and yet I still enjoyed making a home and doing some of those things. I almost asked for a copy of this guide.

I know, it surprises me too. Whilst I don’t go so far as the guide suggested, (especially as for instance, I’m sitting here in my flannelette pyjamas covered in brown monkeys and sporting green woolly socks) but I do enjoy things like opening the yard gates so he doesn’t have to stop and get out, fussing around the kitchen (with a glass of wine of course) preparing dinner before he gets home, and now here I am hankering after a new apron.

Yes, I hang my head in shame, I already own two.

If all this isn’t bad enough, I also found myself on my day off yesterday lovingly re-arranging my Tupperware cupboard. After cleaning out the pantry…..

On the bright side though, I can still drink many people under the table, consider rum an essential breakfast food whilst camping, and managed to turn up at my God sons first birthday party incredibly hungover.

So I haven’t morphed into a stepford wife completely, but I have certainly surprised myself how happy I am pottering in the garden and hanging around home. (even if it is in unattractive pj’s).

Whats interesting (or maybe it isn’t, but I still haven’t thought of todays thought) is that for years society created what they thought women were meant to do in the home then. And now, society is busy creating how we are meant to act now in this new century.

We should be strong, independent, sexually aware and able to service our own cars whilst rocking the baby in one hand, and preparing a gourmet meal with the other and finishing off a management report for work in our heads. And you know what, I like to think I’m all that (although my knowledge of cars isn’t past realising that the wheels are the rubber things on the bottom you put on the road) but at the same time, I don’t want to feel bad that I like making a home.

Is it just me or has society gone so far that some women (I’m sure I’m not alone) almost feel bad these days about loving their man, and wanting to stay at home and wear their apron? You can’t act like that anymore, well you can, but it's starting to get frowned down upon, possibly by the exhausted women who are servicing the car, watching the kids, working at a kick arse job and running the home. Poor buggers are probably so exhausted they don’t have time to enjoy donning an apron anymore.

So, that has now morphed into my thought for the day.

Aprons and hair ribbons and cats that go meow. Okay, I made that last bit up, I just didn’t want to do a whole blog without mentioning my cat :-)

So now I have mentioned Jeff the cat, and admitted my shame of the aprons, its time for me to sign off again.

I have dinner to prepare, a man to lovingly admire, and oh alright…. a bottle of wine waiting.

Farewell 2009

And here we are. 2010.

It’s sort of less impressing than what I thought the year 2010 would be really. I grew up in an era where there was no Internet and my source of information was a show called Beyond 2000. No wonder I’m underwhelmed, according to it I’m meant to be flying around in my hover car all Jetson style by now. (PS is it interesting that my two favourite cartoons in the whole world are set in the future and the past, being The Flintsones and The Jetsons? No you are right, its not interesting……moving on)

So anyway, I’m not flying around in my spaceship slash hover craft slash car slash shopping trolley. I’m still in a nondescript 4 cylinder that gets me around far less glamorously than Beyond 2000 predicted. In a way, this is a good thing; I hate flying and heights anyway.

But as I was saying, here we are in 2010. As I get older the years really do go quicker, proving that youth really is wasted on the young. All that time wasted in my 20’s thinking my arse was too big, wow, if only I could have seen it in 2010, I would have had a much more carefree existence.

But I can’t complain, because life threw some real curveballs at people close to me last year, whilst I remain relatively unscathed. Sure, I did my own soul searching and all that gaff, tears will always fall on occasions, but I didn’t have to go through the extent of emotional turmoil that others did, and for this I’m grateful, and in a way I'm glad I was (for once!) the level headed one that was able to offer some support and words when needed. Maybe in 2009 I finally learnt that life isn’t all about me after all. That sometimes you need to let it revolve around someone else for a while, and help them find their way to 2010 whatever way they can. Therein lays another lesson in a way, sometimes the world revolves around someone even when they don’t want it to, and as much as it can hurt, the world just keeps on doing its own thing.

Sun rises, sun sets, seasons pass. Maybe in 2010 I’ll make more of an effort to appreciate each one of them too.

So moving on, because crikey, I’ve been serious for a good few paragraphs now, and quiet frankly I’ve had enough. For approximately three weeks I’ve been trying to start a 'Welcome to 2010 rada rada rada' post, but sadly, I’ve been somewhat hungover in most of my free time, and this combined with the death of my laptop (henceforth known as the 'Great Toshiba Incident of 2009') has meant its eluded me (or maybe I’ve just been lazy, take your pick)

So, reading my friends entry here http://sometimesitsbetteroutthanin.wordpress.com/, I’d decided I’d rip her idea (sorry love, I know you will understand!) and also do the goodbye to 2009 survey.

Here we go (can I just add here, I do so love a survey. If I ever end up unemployed I might just make my career surfing the web and completing surveys)

Away we go folks, pour a drink, this could take a while.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?

Allowed someone else to name a pet of mine. This is how my beloved and I (yes those of you wondering, still loved up here) ended up with a cat called Jeff. 'Jeff the cat' if you want to be formal. For those thinking this is a negligent thing, please remember that allowing someone to name a pet of mine, is akin to allowing someone to name one of your children. Generally speaking it just not on. But I really, really wanted a cat, and he really, really only wanted one if he got to name it. And we welcome Jeff the Cat to our humble abode.

Stay tuned by the way, Jeff could have an entire blog dedicated to him. He is part cat, part ninja, and quite possibly part man beast also.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions and will you make more for next year?

Not really, I think I used the generic “I will loose weight and get fitter”. This once again lapsed and waned throughout the year as it does every year, in relation to the weather, my motivation and occasionally the price of vegetables.

This year I decided to really challenge myself though and aim to learn Spanish. This may also lapse and wane throughout the year in relation to the weather, my motivation and occasionally the realisation I don’t actually need to learn Spanish for any reason whatsoever other than I needed a new years resolution.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes my best friend did. He was very early and came after a mighty long wait to his parents, but Mr Darcy did indeed enter the world in 2009, and Mr J and I became his proud God Parents. (There is a possibility my best friend regrets the drunken pact we made many moons ago to be godparents to each others children, based on the fact I’m still going around making drunken pacts and she probably thought I too would be married with children by now and make an calm inspiring God Mother….but if this regret thought is running through her mind, she hasn’t voiced her concern thus far, so I continue to lead the way in my shining light and all that jazz. My efforts thus far have been to remember to send up a Christmas Present, so I think I’m doing okay.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

I was quite close to my Toshiba. We try not to talk about it.

5. What countries did you visit?

None, just a few useless states, like the state of hysteria a couple of time, but Mr J does a good job of stamping my passport and bringing me back to solid ground.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?

Patience. And possibly a pony. I miss my ponies, as for patience, can't miss what I never had, but at my (ahem) advancing age, about time I learnt the art of patience. (or is it a virtue? Never mind, I’m bored and want to move on)

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

Being incredibly hopeless with numbers, I don’t actually remember dates. Just events. That’s boring isn’t it?

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I got to see my name in print, in an actual book, you know, like one people pay money for an everything. Insert satisfied smile here.

9. What was your biggest failure?

The denim shorts I thought were cute. They aren’t. I need to face facts, denim shorts, now I am the wrong side of 35, may never be cute again. Insert big sad sigh here.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I suffered through numerous hangovers, and that was enough.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

A smile to Mr Js face. Bahahaha, that was seriously the worst line I have ever written.

It was actually the smile I bought to your face.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

At the risk of being serious for a minute, human nature continues to amaze me, and I hope one day when I grow up, I’m as strong as some of my friends are.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Tiger Woods, I thought he was on of the good ones, what an arsewipe. Also taking the aresewipe award is my friends ex-boyfriend. Insert a barrage of swear words here….

14. Where did most of your money go?

I have no idea, this thought might be what appalls and depresses me in next years survey though.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Jeff the cat, he was an outstanding highlight.

16. What song will always remind of you 2009?

All Summer Long, Kid Rock. It seemed to be everywhere

17. Compared to this time last year, are:

a)happier or sadder? I’d like to say happier, but worried you may think I wasn’t happy at the end of 2008. Rest assured, I got to kiss Mr J at midnight in 2008, then at midnight in 2009, and will again at midnight in 2010, so I’m a happy girl.

b)thinner or fatter? Fatter. Fatter by the way is horrible word, I cringed just typing it.

c) richer or poorer? Probably the same, I’m eternally hopeless with money.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Writing.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Worrying, sometimes my mind just thinks of things to worry about. I wish I could fix that.

20. Did you fall in love in 2009?

Yes, see references to Jeff the Cat. I could say I fall in love everyday with Mr J, but he might read this and accuse me of being a soppy fool, so I won’t. (though technically I got it in anyhow)

21. What was your favourite TV program?

Californication. I was late to the party with this show, but became hooked after getting season one on DVD.

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Hate starts wars, so I would rather just strongly dislike. So yes, I strongly dislike my friends ex boyfriend.

23. What was the best book you read?

Please, I beg you, don’t ever try to make me pinpoint a favourite book! Its akin to asking someone which of their children they love best.

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

See answer 23, but replace the word 'book', for artist, song, singer, or lyric.

25. What did you want and get?

Jeff the Cat. Totally awesome.

26. What did you want and not get?

A new car. Patience, and a pony.

27. What was your favourite film of this year?

Oh tuff choice, can’t bloody think, NEXT.

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was 29F, and I went out to dinner with Mr J where I probably ate too much thai and drank too much wine.

29. How you would describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?

I don’t think I had a fashion concept, I was too busy coming to terms with the Bras and Things lady telling me I my boobs were a Double D, thereby rendering my 27 C cup bras living in the draw at home utterly useless.

30. What kept you sane?

My J, music, Jeff the cat, alcohol and my pissy cat dolls.

31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Hugh Jackman, not only am I in lust with him, I just my genuinely be in love with him.

32. Who did you miss?

My pissy cat dolls.

33. Who was the best new person you met?

See answer 23, but replace the word “book” with ‘friend”.

34. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.

Good things come to those who wait. Toshibas are shit.

35. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

Every now and then,

I get a little lost

My strings all get tangled

The wires all get crossed

Every now and then

I’m right upon the edge

Danglin’ my toes out over the ledge

I just thank God you’re here

Cause when I’m a bullet shot out of a gun

When I’m a firecracker comin’ undone

When I’m a fugitive ready to run

All wild-eyed and crazy

No matter where my reckless soul takes me

Baby you save me

Life

I haven’t posted here for so long that it seems cruelly ironic that the last entry was so happy. In a strange twist of fate, this post is only being typed because a part of me is so sad right now that I felt the need to put words on paper to get them outside of my head.

I’m not sad for me, but I’m hurting for a friend and feeling powerless to assist her. What do you say to someone who is losing her mother, who is watching her fade away before her eyes? How can you ease the pain of someone going through that? You just can’t really can you.

Funny how when you hear news like that everything else that seemed to be taking up space in your mind seems so irrelevant you’re almost embarrassed for thinking it was even important. Those extra kilos I’ve put on I’ve been lamenting for instance... who cares? That headache that keeps bugging me? Whatever. The problems that I thought I had; that in reality possibly exist only in my mind? Forgotten.

I’m disappointed it has taken such news to shock me to this state. And I’m sad, so, so devastated for my friend that words, which usually come so easily to me….just can’t seem to form into a sentence that would assist her in any way.

All I can think tonight is how the things that really matter are so basic that half the time you don't even recognise them for that they are.

I can guarantee that at the end of our time on earth, it’s not the petty arguments, the work dramas or the extra kilos we are carrying that will occupy our thoughts. We won’t leave this place for the next thinking “wish I had spent more time worrying about that”.

We won’t wish we had worked harder, achieved a flasher car or a more sculpted body. We’ll be wishing we had just one more day with our family, that we had said “I love you” more than we had, that we had spent more time gardening in the sunshine, giggling with children, or more time laughing with friends and less time worrying about the housework.

So I’m counting my blessings tonight, cause dam it…. I suppose I’ve got it good and maybe I didn’t really know, really truly know it I mean, until now. My car goes, my bills are paid, but more importantly I am surrounded by people that love me. My partner, my friends, and my family. They are all there whenever I need them, and it’s making me cry right now as I type, to think that soon my friend will be one person less in her world. And that the person who has to leave is one of the most important people in the world to her, her mum.

My friend is a wonderful person….she is easily one of the most genuine, thoughtful and loyal people I have met. In the past when I have been down she has always know just what to say to me. I once opened my mail out of the blue to find gifts from her she had bought for me just because I had been feeling down and she wanted to make me smile.

Her mother must be so immensely proud of raising such a girl.

Life just doesn’t make sense some times.

Looking Through The Window

Were you to peer through my window tonight, you would find what you might think is me.

You would see a dark haired girl, tapping on a laptop, in a perfect white room, perfectly coordinated, with a perfect grey poodle curled up by her side. You might notice that though steam lingers in the bathroom from a shower, this girl has perfect hair, with perfect make up re-applied as she sits in her perfect world.

You might think what a pretty picture it makes, you might think how easy her life must be.

You might even wish you were she.

You might want to step inside through the glass and pause for a moment amongst the calm, as you admire the photos, perfume bottles and girly things she has arranged perfectly around the room... like she is waiting for an interiors magazine to come along and photograph it.

Note the pale pink chiffon scarf draping from the door handle of the white wardrobe. Note that it matches the multiple rose pattern cushions scattered on the white embossed quilt, the throw rug draped casually just so, to match the runner on the tallboy and the tassled throw along the wooden blanket box that matches the rest of her furniture.

You might think she is perfect herself.

If you were to look closer though you might notice the things you missed as you first admired the view.

You would see the half empty wine glass smudged with lipgloss next to her on the bedside box. You would see the open packet of sleeping pills hiding in the drawer. You would see the bottle of wine on the floor, that she wants to drink so she can forget that she isn’t the girl you first saw as you looked in.

You might see her mind struggle as she picks the bottle up, and places it gently down again, considering her every move as she breaks from her typing. Weighing up her options.

If you look even closer, you will see that tears have already slightly marred her make up, and you would see another ready to fall and make its track down her face. You would see balled up tissues peeking out from under the pillow, from the cry she thought no one would notice earlier.

And as you pick up on these things, you might start feeling someething for her. Pity, sadness, sympathy,anger. You could feel anything...or nothing at all.

You might then start to think that not everything is as you thought, and that maybe she isn’t perfect after all.

You would be right.

I Come From a Land Downunder...

Happy Australia Day Maaaaaaaaate!!!

Hope you ate lamb on the BBQ, proudly waved the flag and enjoyed a beer in the sun. Most of all, I hope you enjoyed your Australia Day more than I did, which ended in a trip to RPA (Royal Prince Alfred Hospital for the non Sydney dwellers) for a seven hour stint and a drink spiking incident. (the low lives who did it are definitely UN-AUSTRALIAN in my book)

For once though, I’m not only lost for words, but I have no wish to share that section of the evening. So I’ll focus on the good bits for you instead!

The Weather: I love summer, I love the sun, and I loved the fact it was hot for aussie day and shorts and thongs were more than ample coverage to keep everyone warm, even well into the evening. (times like that I realize why I could never live in any country where thongs are not standard and acceptable footwear)

The View: For the very first time I spent the day in Sydney near the harbour. Now this news may startle some amongst you, but what can I say...as one of this great countries biggest country music fans I only ever spend Australia Day in Tamworth (which for the uninitiated is part of the Country Music Festival – laugh all you want by the way. You develop thick sing as a country fan...And no Kasey Chambers doesn’t sound like a cat with its tail being stepped on! Well maybe she does, but her lyrics make up for it okay?)

Due to circumstances beyond my control however (allright, I just can’t budget properly) I had to remain fairly local. Sydney was the choice to watch the tall ships and view the fireworks. The Harbour put on a show and look superb, and the Opera House (which, just to be different I actually usually find just a big, weird, funny looking white building) looked picture perfect in the sunshine.

The Company: An assorted group of friends and acquaintances, including the much loved Pearla, a fellow co-hort in most of my shenanigans and soon to be departing the shores (you can read about her here http://lifesnotalwaysbeautiful.blogspot.com/2007/12/one-about-pearla.html ) Pearla is a fellow fan of Australia Day and all things aussie, and is still coming to terms with the fact she will be OS when Anzac day arrives this year. (like the good friend I am, I have promised to contact her – because everyone knows her mobile phone is going to work in the wilds of Indonesia – on the great day itself to update her on the rum intake and the state of play of two up this year)

So that was Australia Day. I felt proud to be Australian and felt full of love for the aussies in it, especially when I met a group of Scottish ( or were they Irish? They had an accent of some sort anyway) travellers who had arrived six months ago and promptly fallen in love with Australia and her inhabitants. The lifestyle, the weather, the outdoor music events, the aussies, the beaches and scenery…..and they hadn’t even made it out of NSW yet!

And then of course, there was sadly the rest of the night...which we won’t even discuss.

I know, surprised aren’t you? I’m usually happy to share but maybe it’s all just a bit too painful yet, and besides of which the story isn’t mine alone.

Speaking of words (we weren’t but I’m running this show!) I read this afternoon that we speak approx 8000 words a day, up to 56 000 a week and around 3 BILLION words a year. Just a bit of useless trivia for you, I discovered this as I was reading a book for work

I can’t believe actually they have given me something which is encouraging me to talk even more either – as the chapter itself was all about making our 8000 words count. I skipped the rest of the chapter though, as I don’t need a book to point out that I’m probably double the average and say around 12,000 a day, most of it meaningless dribble no good to anyone. (I’m still deciding what possessed them to arm me with this information).

Anyway, so there I am reading my book for work, whilst waiting for the exit mould in the bathroom to do its stuff.

Did you get that?

Reading for work, waiting for the exit mould to set.

All on a public holiday, when by rights I should be at a BBQ quaffing a chardy in the sun and generally making a mess of myself...not having a cleaning frenzy. If the majority of this blog hadn’t already led you to believe I possibly need my head read, the sentence above ought to confirm it for you.

Its bloody Un-Australian is what it is!!!!

So I’ve stopped now, and decided a brief blog entry was in order, (Okay I fib, I did attend to the exit mould in the interim and the bathroom is looking every bit as sparkling as the Opera House did on Saturday now)

Having nothing to say for once though my eyes ventured back to the book and to the communication chapter (cause clearly, I’m crap at it) and I started reading about ‘thinking before you speak’.

Okay, so I skipped that chapter too…….
(I’m really ripping through this workbook, my boss is going to be wrapped with me)

Next up came a few paragraphs about speaking slower than usual to get your point across.

At this point I threw the book across the room. Useless tripe.

I’m in sales, I have boobs to get my point across. (just joking esteemed colleagues)

Anyway, thats all of the estimated 8000 words a day you are getting from me for the moment, as I'm off to read the section on “treat everyone with the same courtesy” (clearly this author hasn’t met some of the people we work with on a day to day basis).

I’d love to leave you with the lyrics to a land downunder to celebrate this Australia Day entry, but they make no sense to me at all and I only really remember that someone gets a vegemite sandwich.

So I’ll leave you with some words from our new Australian Of The Year – Lee Kernaghan.

Its a song about a song.. the song that most people refer to as our unoffical anthem - Waltzing Matilda.

I tumbled into life, out on the western line.

A simple gathering of melody and rhyme

Written down and tweaked a bit, ink pen on manuscript

Little town, little song, looking for somewhere to belong
Sat in a bureau draw, pulled out and then performed

For a governor and mayor

A law clerk scratched me down, next morning we left town

He was humming as we rode and I wondered where we’d go

CHORUS
On and on round and round, far and wide am I bound

I’m a gift, I’m a drifter always wandering free

On and on like the wind, I am home, I am friend

And you’ll always be as close as a whisper to me

Some shearers heading south; sang me to Jackie Howe

First time he ever shore a hundred in a day

I rode the silver rails, I crossed the mountain trails

They’d sing my song from the Cape to Moreton Bay

And then send me on my way

CHORUS

As Private Monroe gently sang, I floated over no man’s land

I’ve seen the tears of countless lonely sons

I’ve crossed the raging seas,

Wound up in symphonies,

Was there in victories,

Been sung on bended knees...

Im just some notes and verse

Nothing more and nothing less

You’ll find me at the stock camp as they’re passing out the rum

Out near where I’m from

On and on round and round, far and wide am I bound

I’m a gift, I’m a drifter always wandering free

On and on like the wind, I am home I am friend

And you’ll always be as close as a whisper to me
On and on with this swag and an old tucker bag....

Singing who’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me

A Muddy Dog

I know there are some of you that log onto this for their daily chuckle, and I’m usually more than happy to oblige. Being the funny one comes easy to me, and I often call this blog my free therapy. Even by rights when something shouldn’t be exactly amusing, it comes out that way and I read it back to myself and actually manage to cheer myself up when I see it in print.

But I’m a bit down tonight I’m afraid. This afternoon a friend of some 13 years passed away. That friend was Muddy, a border collie cross blue cattle dog that magically just ‘followed me home from work’ one day. Tonight, Muddy, the funny dog with the big smile is no more part of this world, but no doubt keeping those on the other side company with his wagging tail and sunny smile.

Muddy came to me by accident. I was doing a brief stint at a Veterinary Clinic when someone brought in a litter of pups. He was the unplanned result of a blue cattle dog having its wicked way with a sweet border collie and Muddy and his siblings were the result. Muddy from memory was the smallest of the litter, and resembled a border collie but for his blue speckled nose and paws. Despite the fact I lived some 40ks from work I still maintain he just ‘followed me home’. His fate rested in mums hands as I was still living at home at the time, but mum, like me, is a sucker for animals...Muddy stayed.

He didn’t take long to grow on us. Being border collie breeding he loved to be ‘doing’. While we lived on acreage it wasn’t a working farm so his main chore for the day, in which he excelled and looked forward to daily, was getting the chooks away for the night. We called this “chookin’ lookin’ and Muddy took great delight in this one big job he had. Till the day he died, as a retired overweight dog living the good life down the south coast with my also retired parents, Muddy still pricked his ears and got excited when you said ‘chookin’ lookin’, and would look frantically around the backyard like the chooks my soon appear and need his assistance.

In his youth Muddy was an energetic ball of fun. I recall the first time I took him to the vets for a check up, and her remarking that his had the best muscle tone of a pup his age she had seen. He didn’t stop much back then. If he wasn’t chewing toys, he was on the look out for chooks, accompanying us behind the horses during rides and generally getting in the way of things. He was also hands down the best childrens dog we have ever come across, ever. Considering his breeding this sometimes amazed me. I walked out once to find him on top of the concrete water tank with the kids. How did he get there? (actually how did all of them get there) One had pulled him up by his ears and the other pushed his legs from below. Didn’t worry Muddy though, he just loved to be part of the action. We have had the pleasure of many breeds of dogs over the years, but none have honestly been as trustworthy as he.

He also developed a strange love for my nephews slippery dip, and would amuse me for ages jumping up the ‘steps’ at the back and slide and jump his way down it. It achieved nothing really, but like a kid, he didn’t care, it was all in the doing!

When he was around about seven Muddy lost his other mate, my mums dog Mishka. It took him about four years before he even uttered a bark again after she went. We realized that the only time he had ever barked in his life was when Mishka did. He’d hear her and have a yap then shut up. I think half the time he had no idea what he was barking at, just that it must have been called for ‘cause the other dog was! After Mish went I think it was around four years before he uttered a bark again, and that was at a blue tongue lizard that took up residence in the backyard down the coast. Till yesterday when he left us, that lizard (or perhaps relatives of it) was still the only thing that made him have a woof. Clearly, a watch dog he wasn’t. Muddy would be more likely to lead someone to the door and come in and show them around had anyone tried breaking in.

Just last year mum rang me concerned Muddy was lonely and might need company. Not wanting to get another animal she suggested a concrete chook statue. Now, Muddy wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but I’m pretty sure he would have known the chook was concrete, besides of which he always liked his chooks moving anyway!

Fate stepped in as about that time I moved and wasn’t able to take my cat with me. Scarlet the Cat and Muddy the dog soon bonded, though as bossy cats often do, Scarlet could be seen sleeping in the dogs bed while Muddy slept on the concrete next to it. I don’t know how animal minds work, but I think they were close friends anyway in their own funny way and could often be founding together in the back yard.

I wasn’t really prepared for Muddy leaving us today. He had seen me through a lot over the years. He has celebrated countless family celebrations with us, and watched the grandkids grow up around him.

But tonight he was tired and decided it was time to go. I think he planned it you know. Muddy’s one big fear in life was storms. Mum had rang me an hour or two before with the news Muddy wasn’t well and in at the vet clinic. We worried about the storm on its way and how he wouldn’t like it.

He didn’t get to see that last storm, and I suppose in one way I’m grateful.. I like to think he simply closed his eyes and slept his way to a storm free heaven.

I have cried tears at work when I heard the news he had gone, and got home to be comforted by the poodle where I cried yet more tears at animals and pets and what they bring to our worlds.

I’m not ashamed to admit I’m an animal lover, I haven’t really had a time at all when they haven’t around me. Horses are my big love, and my respect for them is worthy of an entire blog of their own. But any animals I welcome in my home. I love cats for their sometimes uppity attitude and the way they think they own you instead of the other way around, and I love dogs for their sheer devotion and trust. I can tell when I walk into a home that doesn’t have pets……..some essence is strangely missing and its doesn’t feel quite complete.

For all the times I have cried as my pets have passed over the years, they have been worth every single tear I have shed for them in tenfold. They have often brought me more than a person could even hope to try, and the lessons they have taught me are something that you just can’t learn anywhere else. As corny as it sounds, they enrich my life, and I guess only an animal lover reading this will understand what I mean when I say that.

So tonight I bade farewell to Muddy Dog. In dogs years he was 91 when he passed, and was as wide as he was high. It had been years since he had done anything more energetic than a wander by the river and too sit on the grass while dad listened to the cricket near by. He had a great life, he was loved and I like to think he knew it. I’ll miss him as anyone would miss as friend when they leave them.

For the tears the family have cried over him going today, he easily gave us just as many smiles. I just hope he is happy in his storm free world now, and I look forward to seeing him again some day.

Love, Pain and The Whole Crazy Thing

Now I must warn you before you go any further. After weeks away from my blog / blob / rambling bits of stupidity I come out with etc… I have been itching to get back online and to basically fill everyone in on what has been keeping me amused these last few weeks. Being the studious employee that I am (cough / splutter / watch my nose grow) I didn’t want to write it on works time (truth be told I’ve moved desks and the communal printer is temporarily located behind my chair, meaning its hard to fart arse around on the net and not be caught. Thankfully this is being rectified tomorrow)

Because you are all at my mercy however, you get stuck reading whatever pops out of my mind each night. My mind was once described by ‘Whirly’ (Whirly being a bloke I’ve never met but who I know tunes in here quite often) as ‘a mixed back of crackers, unique obscure randomness that is hilariously impressive’ – or something along those lines. It was a great review, I smiled for ages after reading it and also made mental note to myself to dedicate a post to him soon. (He also doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll be sharing a bevvie with him next time I’m up at Darwin which I see is where he is located) So anyway, while you may have tuned in eagerly awaiting further drunken ramblings and to discover if I did indeed have myself a merry little Christmas (edited to add …. I have heard that Brother Ted did indeed have a VERY happy new year, and brought it in with a bang so to speak) I however, once again got sidetracked doing the ‘update blog’ because other thoughts are now swimming through my mind instead. (or possibly drowning, I should never let my thoughts free up there without their flotation devices, or at the very least a good stiff drink)

For some reason I’m thinking about love and relationships tonight. Maybe because I was playing the Keith Urban CD I named this post after as I drove home from a not overly great date, maybe I have listened to too one too many love songs, and maybe I just have too many ex boyfriends currently contacting me for I’m not even sure what (and I don’t know if they do either. Actually, I’d hazard a guess they are just worried about advancing age, receding hair, are sick of cooking dinner for themselves and miss my boobies….. but hey, who am I to judge?!)

I’m not very good at relationships, this much I have figured out in my adult years (For the record, I am now 29D, which in normal / boring peoples terms is 33, with my 30th being when I turned 29A. I just refuse to leave the twenties behind, and have myself so convinced I’m really only 29 that I have to think twice to work out how old I’m ‘really truly’ turning each year)

But back to love, the big issue that has been known to confuse me greatly in recent times.

In my youth I had a couple of long term relationships, the first where I lost myself completely trying to be someone I wasn’t, and yet relying on them to make me happy at the same time. I learnt a lot after the break up (pains me to admit that, but true). After that though (well, a good few years, I never was a quick learner – need I remind you of the Coles Supermarket application test?!) I think I tried so hard not to become that person again, that I now swing towards shutting people out and appear to take too lighthearted an approach instead. Where I find the balance between these two I do not know.

What I do know is that the path to contentment with a significant other is just a road I can’t seem to get myself to drive along any more. I see stop signs where I’m probably just meant to give way, so I stop completely, loose my revs and end up stalled and stranded wondering why I never joined some kind of roadside assistance program.

NRMA don’t seem interested when I call them for H-E-L-P though, which is just false advertising on their behalf really. So here I am, quietly chuffing along in the left hand lane and wondering if I overtake, stay where I am, speed up, slow down or just get off the god damn road of love altogether. (or alternatively, get pulled over by an attractive copper in uniform and have my wicked way with him)

I heard a great quote the other day, which true to my form I probably remember all back to front (I always remember things arse up, and my friends now delight in saying “the black kettle calling the pot” because I’m known to stuff up that kettle / pot saying religiously. At least I’m religious about something though I guess) Anyway, this quote was something along the lines of “never make someone your prerogative, if you are only their option”. Who ever said it was obviously basically trying to say the attraction / love / intensity etc needs to be pretty equal. Get it out of balance, make them your everything and be only just there something means chances are its not a healthy relationship and you probably aren’t going to make it the minute your road leaves the highway and hits the rough stuff. (I’m loving the driving analogy tonight aren’t I?)

I really love that saying (even if I did say it wrong) but it got me to thinking about the other sides of the coin though. What happens when you are two completely different people looking at things from opposite sides of the spectrum, and your views and present life are at odds with the object of your desire? Do you give up? Do you chuck it in and settle down instead of up? Do you act like its musical chairs and instead grab the first man next to you when you hit 30 and the music stops playing in your head?

I’m always against all of the above. (well, have been since I learnt that early ‘lessons in love’ thing I mentioned somewhere in paragraph four) I have no ticking clock in me that thinks I have to rush out and settle down with whatever bloke seems acceptable. I don’t demand a lot of another person any more. I don’t want constant ‘I love you’s, I don’t want anything on valentines day, and I don’t want to feel the need to check with someone else before saying yes to weekends away with friends, spending money on what I want instead of need and I don’t actually even know if I want to get married.

I do however want to know, just know, that they love me. I hate hearing it said as an automatic response though. I hate that automatic, dull “I love you too” that is often said with no thought or emotion behind it, that is said just as a respond to the same dull “I love you” that you have just given them because you are about to drive to work or hang up the phone.

For me, I would rather hear “I love you” only once a lifetime, and know that at that moment, that second in time, they mean it with every single fibre of their body….I’d so much rather that than get a card saying it just because I expect it on valentines day. I don’t think there is anything to be said for flowers and chocolates. That’s romance yes, but it isn’t love.

I want to know, just know for sure, that someone loves me. I don’t want to get married in front of a hundred friends, because I want to know they love me and don’t feel the need to say it in front of others, I can’t help but think all of that is just for those watching, like its going to prove it to me, to themselves, to everyone watching.

If it’s real, I’ll just know.

If it’s real, they will agree with my suggestion of why bother even getting married, or agree that running away and eloping is so much more special. Just a special day for the two of you, where you are both so comfortable and assured of each others love that you don’t need to make a song and dance of it. That just saying ‘I do’ at each other only, with no one else there, is more than enough.

And I don’t even know about that sometimes, because at the end of the day I hate the thought of making a promise. It’s so much to ask of anyone. All I can hope is that I will feel this way forever, and they will feel the same way too. How do you promise it? You can’t promise anything really in this life, you just hope you will love them forever, and do your damnest to try. It’s a lot to ask of the human mind and spirit to feel the same way in fifty, sixty, seventy years that you do today. Sometimes I think it’s too much. Sometimes I think it’s just asking for trouble. People change. You have to grow, you have to develop. It’s what may keep you in love or it’s what may pull you apart. It’s the not knowing that makes it exciting.

So now maybe you will see why I am in the quandary once again about love. Because I want love, but I don’t want anymore what is perceived in society as ‘love’, such as marriage and children. I want my own version of love, love that is so simple in its element you need just it, and it alone.

Try to explain that though and I get in a mess. I come across as not wanting a relationship and end up thinking maybe I don’t after all, breaking up and then thinking maybe I should have tried harder to convey what I wanted. Or I end up in relationships that aren’t committed because they perceive me as a ‘free spirit’ and haven’t really grasped my whole garbled love view at all. To a degree I suppose I am a free sprit, but I don’t give up on finding some sort of harmony and commitment to one person and seeing where it takes us.

No wonder NRMA couldn’t offer HELP here.

Even I have trouble following my own thoughts on it all. I’m also really against all those planned proposals you hear about. Romantic they may appear to some, but they leave me stone cold. I hate the thought of calculating it out, planning the biggest impact, the most impressive way. I want someone to just turn to me one day and ask me, out the blue when I least expect, when THEY least expect it, because something in that moment makes them look at me and think “she’s it”. They have to ask then and there, because they can’t not ask. The choice isn’t there for them anymore. It’s just a moment that is.

So that’s how I want my love. No rings, no promises. I don’t want to share bank accounts, have to check up on someone or have them check up on me. I don’t want a traditional romance, I don’t even know if I want to ever live with someone again. (goodness knows, If I wasn’t me I couldn’t put up with living with myself) so I find myself caught time and again with wondering where the hell I am at and if indeed I’m normal in my thinking. Am I really in that much of a minority in my thoughts?

I want love to make me laugh, make me cry, make sing, make me sad.

I want it to frustrate me, overwhelm me, confound me and amaze me.

I want to feel out of control and out of my depth, like I’m flying high across the sky, scared of where I’m going but not so scared I want to return to earth.

What I don’t want is for love to confuse me anymore.

The One About Pearla

I have a friend who I often refer to as the 'sunshine in my life'. Right now though, Im trying very hard to not be selfish and to wish her well as she departs the country for six months to do aid work overseas. I will be sending all my good vibes her way to travel safe and enjoy the ride, but boy am I going to miss her.

My friend Pearla is a rare gem of a girl. I would nominate her as the girl most likely....well the girl most likely to be everything really. Make me laugh, listen to me cry, do crazy things when drunk, brighten up my life all round. If I could I would send her ‘straight to the pool room’ as she is valued so highly amongst the list of people in my life who help my world go round.

Whilst it may sound corny, I feel truly blessed to have her as part of my world. She has never judged me, but has certainly guided me when I’ve needed it in her gentle way. I'm going to miss her more than the sunflowers miss the sunshine when its not there. Without her I will probably be not quite as sure which way to turn my head, and loose just a tiny bit of my bloom. I have spent some of my funniest memories laughing with her, sometimes even at her. For Pearla on wine is a joy to behold, and her nickname comes from the many pearls and gems she comes out with.

Next year will see her fufilling a dream and going overseas to do aid work. That’s just the sort of girl she is I guess. A heart bigger than all five foot of her.

I’ve been lucky in my life to find some truly beautiful, special friends, who I know instinctly will be there for all my remaining days. Without a moments hesitation, I can say she is one of them.

I’ll miss you my friend, but I hope this endevour brings you everything you wish for and already I look forward to your safe return.

I raise my glass to you :-)

And Here We Are...

And here we are, the morning after the evening before. I have slept for maybe an hour at the most, in which I woke up myself up screaming from a nightmare I can’t even remember now. Today was meant to be my day off, I planned to sleep in, enjoy a leisurely brunch, pamper myself for the planned staff Christmas Party this evening. I was meant to be polishing my jingle bells and getting into festive party mode.

Instead I still sit here wide awake with troubles in my head and too many thoughts for it to even contemplate shutting down and resting.

For the very small handful of friends who know the meaning behind the post below, thank you for mopping me up and offering solutions to puzzles that I can’t seem to put together myself at the moment.

Where to from here I’m still not sure, but its good to know whichever way I go there will be people coming with me to hold my hand.

"And I'll be riding high, in a fandangled sky...
Its gonna be easy, it's gonna be easy from now on"

Somehere Over The Rainbow

When I joked earlier today that a serious post was heading towards you, I didn’t actually know how true my words would ring. I said it half heartedly, thinking perhaps it was time to throw a thoughtful entry your way, stop being the funny one for a while. Yet how true it is, as I sit here crying and forcing myself to stop and breathe, and calm the fear that is in my heart.

As a blog that is read by both those who do know me, and those that are yet to meet me, I’m struggling to find the words today to say what I want, with the least offence to anyone who might stumble across this in future years. Who knows if the people involved may discover this some time in the distance, and while I’m angry at them and the situation we have come too, I have no wish to hurt anyone along the way.

Last year on New Years Eve I had told both myself and anyone listening that 2007 was going to be my year. My time to shine.

Now 2008 is marching towards me and I’m more than ready for it, so ready…because I wish to bid farewell to 2007, the year that could have been but wasn’t.

It wasn’t my year after all, and I don’t think I could pinpoint a month for you throughout it that hasn’t seen me on a roller coaster journey of emotion. I’m disappointed in myself for thinking like this, to waste my time wishing the days away, when there would be others out there who have only weeks remaining and would treasure each moment as it went by. I see my selfishness, and I am disgusted by it.

Yet the anger in me wants 2007 to go away, the anger in me wants 2008 now, a fresh year, a fresh start, a fresh outlook. Like the ticking second hand of the clock is somehow going to magically rejuvenate my life as it marks the way to a new era.

Already I am telling myself 2008 will now be my year just to keep me hanging on to get through the current one. I do not know if I have disappointed others recently, but I know that they have disappointed me. That things weren’t as expected, and that the lines of communication did not flow.

Funny really, how communication can be a hard one for me, yet words flow so easily across the page.

Its not a partner causing me these issues either, maybe if it were I could handle it better, have been on the same road before and knew where and how to comfort away the confusion and hurt. Felt comfortable enough to retaliate, to demand answers to questions or to discuss matters that needed saying.

But its not a male, and I haven’t stood on this path before to know just what to do. I sit here instead, crying, breathing, being. Wondering which road to go down next, or whether to just turn back the way I came and go home.

Home.

They say it’s where the heart is, but what happens when you have moved around so much you aren’t quite sure where you left your heart last? Or you are worried you will travel back there, only to find it’s not what you remembered?

If I were Dorothy here is where I put on my red shoes and click my heels, wishing to be magically whisked home, to safety.

I don’t feel safe tonight, nor do I feel comfortable. I feel upset, hurt, angry, scared, confused and lost, all in my own house. I know we are all searching for something in this life. The Tin Man, The Scarecrow, The Lion, all on the lookout for parts of them that are missing. A heart, a brain, courage. A home.

I’m searching for home tonight. Trying to make clear in my muddled mind if I should click my red heels or continue down the yellow brick road I find myself on.

2007 hasn’t given me the journey I wanted so far, I have found both witches and wizards, but no rainbow, and certainly no rainbows end. Every time I spot it on the horizon, I blink and it disappears from my vision, leaving behind just enough of a memory to make me keep on looking for it over every hill, wanting to glimpse its beauty once more.

Everyone is out there searching for something, I just need to work out if I am looking for a home, or if I am looking for a way out of a journey that seems too hard to contemplate in my weary state.

Like love, friendship too is a fickle thing.

Tonight I leave you so I can search for those red shoes and dream of coming home. We aren’t in Kansas anymore Toto, and we need to rest up for the journey ahead.

A Warm Fuzzy Moment For You

Just wanted to share with you a little thought today, it’s a treasured one that I sometimes take out of the memory box in my mind and I never fail to recall it with a smile.

Some years ago I was living and working in the centre of Sydney. I took a bus daily to work, and would spend most mornings sitting in silence cursing the public transport system. This particular morning was worse than usual. It was a Monday for a start, and it was raining heavily. It was a cold dismal day, the seats were wet, and workers were unhappily filing onto the bus after a weekend off, grimly ignoring each other, sitting with glazed expressions on faces.

I'm afraid I was one of them.

I don’t think one person wanted to be on that bus, on that day, facing the dreary weather and the start of another dreary week.

As the bus began to get crowded, rude messages were muttered under breaths and rude looks given as wet bags brushed past people. You could feel it in the air, that trapped feeling of being somewhere you didn't want to be. We all in turn stared blankly out the windows as the rain came down.

Then we stopped for a new passenger. I craned my neck up to see who the hold up was and why the big delay in getting us moving again. A downes syndrome girl had gotten onto our bus, and her mum was nervously trying to explain to the bus driver where she was too get off at and that someone would be waiting for her at the other end of her ride.

The girls face was so different to ours. She was so excited you could see, to be on this bus ride by herself. Her face was optimistic and hopeful, joyful.... so different to the expressions we all wore. There were no seats left by then, so she stood alone near the front luggage area, smiling around. Most ignored her, but I watched fascinated.

Waving her arm around indicating the streets outside, and with a big smile she announced to the bus in general that everything was pretty now, it was wet, see how it shines?

Likes fans uniting with a Mexican wave, smiles and warmth seemed to flow around our bus. We looked again, but this time with her eyes. Where we had seen greyness, she was seeing glitter. She kept pointint it out to us. The shiny trees, the shiny cars and shiny road. Pretty soon our bus was full of shiny happy people too, as we got caught up in watching her delight at something so simple. You could almost feel the mood lift as we all became a little less cynical about things for just a little while.

I think sometimes life just sends you little moments like that to surprise you. A little warm fuzzy for you to tuck away and take out again when needed.

The memory of her and the happiness she brought is as vivid in my mind as the day it happened. That simple enjoyment and the reaction it caused in the bus, lifting and lightning our mood. I don’t know who or where she is, but I hope she is out there, continuing to be the sunshine of someones life, and still seeing the glitter through the grey.

The Great Weight Debate

I’m feeling a little fat tonight. Seeing as I am a good five foot nine and barely hit double digits on my clothing label, I see the irony of this and am disappointed in myself to even have the nerve to sit here and feel this way. Because in my heart I know I am nowhere near fat. Yet I can’t help it, it must just be a bad hair day.

It got me to thinking about how as females we are just never quite happy with our outward appearance. The ‘enough’ monster rules our lives…..we believe we are never quite thin enough, pretty enough, smart enough or good enough. I could point you out all of my girl friends one by one, and you would see that there is something attractive and intriguing about all of them. Some may be perceived by outward appearances as conventionally prettier than others, but not one of them, not even a drunken male in a bar, would dare look at any and say they are unattractive. They in turn have lovely hair, or skin, or smiles or eyes. They all have personalities that make you want to get to know them more. They include tall and short and everything from a size 6 to 22. All have something about them that has attracted the attention of others at various points in their lives. They are in short, lovely.

I don’t know one of them though, that hasn’t looked at themselves on a regular basis and been unhappy with what they see. I don’t think I could pinpoint one female that I know of, who doesn’t view their reflection in the mirror and hear the enough monster in their head. If they are thin they wish they are prettier, if they are pretty they wish their legs were longer. We always seem to think we should look better than we do.

I wonder what makes us think this way? Is it males or females, ourselves or society to blame? The more I ponder it, the more I think it’s our own heads that are never quite satisfied. I can look at my friends some days, and be almost shocked anew by how attractive some of them are. I have seen men turn their heads as they pass, yet I know that earlier in that same evening before venturing out, they have agonized over how they look or wished for some small change in their face or body.

I would not be the only one reading this, to have been told by our loves how beautiful and wonderful we are. I wonder how many of us really believe it? How many of us bypass this comment thinking they are saying only what we want to hear?

I have watched my sister struggle with her weight and diets over the years and yet she has no idea how gorgeous she is. She is tall and womanly with luscious locks and a winning smile. She has a husband who I know adores her and sees in her the woman I think she struggles to see in the mirror. Sometimes I wish I could tell her this, yet even if I did I fear like most of our gender she wouldn’t believe it. She used to bravely joke to people that I got the skinny genes …… and maybe I did just luck out in that department…. but her looks and personality far outshine mine. Yet for all those brains and beauty, the enough monster seems to lurk in her head too.

I don’t think I can continue to blame men for this enough business either. The more I observe, the more I recognize that men are far less self conscious of their own bodies, and less noticing of our than we give them credit for. In fact, none of them I know hold any fear in stripping off at the beach or walking naked to the bathroom, no matter what their weight or looks. Whilst we sit covered in a towel and worry about the couple of extra kilos we are wearing on our hips. They don’t seem to notice the extra padding or the blemishes on our skin as much as we as we notice them ourself. We meanwhile, are so busy fretting about these small things we probably stop ourselves from having fun. I’m guilty in the past, of knocking back a game of volleyball on the beach for fear of how I would look bouncing around in a bikini, thinking to myself I didn’t want to stand out at the same time by playing and wearing a cover up. What a waste of a sunny day on the beach, because I chose to hide myself in the water or under a shirt.

So I’m quite sad I’m feeling fat and unattractive tonight, because I know full well its all in my own head.

I hope one day I manage to rid myself of this enough monster I carry around, and I hope anyone reading can rid themselves of theirs too.

Until then, just keep knowing I think you are all fabulous okay? J

The Girl Of His Dreams

I’ve been thinking tonight about what a fickle thing Love can be. For once I’m not being cynical either. I know love is grand, I know it makes the world go round, I know it has the almighty power to both start and end wars. But at the end of the day, what a fickle thing Love can be.

It hit me tonight quite unexpectedly as I was sifting through the memories I keep safely tucked away in my mind, that I was once the girl of someones dreams. Someone once took weeks to get the courage to nervously ask me out, someone once dreamed of me with the same butterflies in his tummy that I had in mine. He would have smiled at the thought of me, and dropped my name into conversation, just so he could hear my name on his tongue and paired with his. Someone once wrote ‘I Love you’ in the sand for me, etched it in a tree like teenagers, kissed me in the ocean, baked me a cake, bought me flowers, stroked my head when I was sick, cried with me, laughed with me, made Love with me.

As an adult (or the adult I try so hard to be), I realize that sometimes no matter how hard you want something, it doesn’t mean you get to experience the joy of actually getting it. Life’s not always fair, and please don’t take till you are well into your twenties to learn that like I did. Live each moment, enjoy each second………but don’t count on the one person to be there forever, except for yourself. Learnt to love and rely on your self first. Be the person of your own dreams.

I’ve learnt over the years that relationships can come and go, and your thoughts, feelings and the very essence of who you are can change right along with each one. You learn from each other, you stay a little while or you might stay for a long while. You hopefully take the good parts of each other and share them back and forth, making you each better people because of it.

The longer it goes the further you entwine, getting woven into the fabric of each others lives. Amazing then, how one loose thread unravels you all. In what seems like just a heartbeat you go from being the girl of his dreams, to just a girl he used to know.

And that’s what hit me tonight, as I traded polite email from someone who once had me so far on a pedestal that I must have got giddy from the height. Looking back I was bound to fall eventually. This man had once idolised me, and had once thought I was one of the greatest things to ever happen to him, who told me I opened up his way of thinking and made things seems new and exciting. He used to laugh at the way the most mundane things in our lives became funny with my storytelling, he would touch me on the back when we were standing in a line, just to remind me he was there, and to feel that spark again as our skin touched. Yes, I was once the girl of his every dream and fantasy……. and now? Now I’m not. Now I’m a mere number amongst the contact list on his mobile phone.

Maybe it’s just me cause I’m finding that all too hard to fathom out this evening.

It’s not the break up I regret. People change all the time, I changed. Looking back I changed far more than him. I may have been changing for the better, but I was no longer the girl he fell in love with, and that’s where the thread became loose, and our tapestry of life start unraveling till we couldn’t recognize what we had even made, nor even a recognize the pattern for us to start again.

That’s the thing about love you see, its human nature to change and if we don’t allow our partners to do the same, if we insist that they be the exact person we fell in love with ……..then nothing can grow. We stagnate. We stop being amazed, stop being the best things that can ever happen to anyone. Stop being the girls of their dreams..

For once in my life I see the excitement before me, the roads I have yet to travel, the songs still to be sung, beaches I’ve yet to sit on a dawn, lovers I’ve yet to meet. So much ahead of me. I no longer miss him, or ache for him in anyway. I just feel a sadness, a sorrow that love can make fools of even the wisest. That we can declare someone the love of our lives, when we haven’t even lived our full lives. That we can be someones everything for a while, and when that ‘while’ is over …you are a nothing. A number in a phone perhaps , a forwarding address on the email list. A face in the crowd you might wave hello too then guiltily look away.

I can only trust my judgment that I haven’t gotten it wrong so far, and I was right to hold out. Hold out for the good stuff.

I used to think I would know what he would be like and look like when he came along, this mystery man of mine. I couldn’t tell you any of it now. I have loved and laughed with the tall and short, the underweight and overweight, blonde hair and darkhair, suits and truckdrivers, all different but who have caught my eye and my attention in some way. I thought I had a type, but it turns out I don’t have one after all. I guess when he comes along......the right one, he will just be the right type for me.

I have had my heart broken along this rocky path of love already, and I fear I have broken someone elses too as I passed them by.

Love is indeed a fickle thing.

I wish you all the love in the world tonight, just take it and treat it kindly..

The Girl in The Mirror

I’m bored. Or maybe bored is the wrong way to describe it, because I know there are things I could to alleviate it. Maybe I’m just tired, tired of myself. Of my inability to join the world at times.

Tired of being the flake. Tired of being the clown in public, and the crying girl in private. Tired of evenings alone because I know I can’t go out on nights like this and be the funny one right now. Sometimes I think of my personality of almost being like a pool of water around me. Some days it’s like the ocean, fun for some who brave the waves, enjoy the tides and openness, the sheer aliveness of it around them. Other times it’s like a lake, cool and calm. Inviting people in to bask in its slow lapping water, to splash along its edges, enjoy what it has to offer.

But most of the time I feel like its just still, still water. And the slightest thing can make it ripple around me.

Tonight I’m rippling, like someone has thrown stones into my stillness and disturbed me. Like watching your reflection in the water be blown away by the intrusion, and loosing sight of what you are viewing. Others probably see all the different variations of water around me, but in my head for me it’s always the still one. It’s the one that’s the true reflection of how I perceive myself, and how I feel I am. Still and dark. Murky and intriguing to only myself.

I hate the ripples. Hate when I feel the stones land and know its upset that calm deep and disturbs the monster lurking underneath. Sometimes I don’t even know who threw the stones. Maybe it was me?

Who can I blame when I can’t see where they are coming from, how long they’ll continue, how deep they will pierce through. Sometimes I know I’m doing it myself, and maybe I was trying to skip a stone along my water in fun, but I got the angle wrong and shattered its stillness instead.

So tonight I sit here with my water disturbed all around me. Like my aura is quivering around me, making that pool of thought and emotion ripple over and over again, causing shockwaves right to the very bottom.

I try to calm it, to breathe deeply in a pattern to lessen the ripple effect, but it’s hard. Amazingly hard work to do nothing but breathe. It takes all my concentration to stop myself throwing more stones in, I can feel my mind dredging up thoughts, and throwing them back at me and causing yet more disturbance. Like a rain of pebbles coming down on me, ripping through the shelter I’m trying to build at the same time. One hand frantically putting up a roof to stop it, the other hand throwing stones.

Amazing how I can even argue with myself like that isn’t it.

Boredom is my enemy tonight. Knowing I can’t go out because of my mood, yet nothing to do at home but write these random thoughts into a computer. I have a bottle of port to keep me company, and a grey poodle curled up beside me.

I thank God for the poodle. Actually I thank God for all animals. He knew what he was doing when he made them. Animals always help me, some more than others, but any animal is bound to calm the ripples more than any person could.

Not sure what it is about them, just their persona around me. Their lack of questions maybe? I feel like they can come into my water anytime. If they are a dog they jump amongst the waves, joyously chasing them back to the shore. If they are a cat they bat the sea foam with their paws, or dip them in trying to swat at imaginary fish only they can see underneath, enjoy feeling the sun on their back as they watch their own reflection. If they are a horse they gallop along in the shallows, making me feel alive and giving me a feeling of power and strength, like its all their inside me ready to surge forward the moment I need it.

I welcome the disturbance of my water from animals. Animal ripples in my water caress, tickle and sooth me. Lapping along my thoughts, and sweeping the debris away and leaving me clear.

So tonight I welcome the poodle into my head. Welcome her quite presence here beside me as I type. I’m not sure if she knows my water is disturbed. I know some animals that can pick up on it. Sense the quiver of it around me maybe.

As I sit here I can see my own reflection in the mirror staring back at me. Thinking as it watches me type. I sometimes want to ask that girl if I can trade places with her. She looks so much more capable than I feel. I can’t always tell what she is thinking about me, but I know I disappoint her. I feel like I’ve let her down. Not lived up to her expectations of me. I don’t care so much about not being what other people think I should be, as much as I care about what she thinks.

I remember reading something once, or maybe I just had a thought somewhere over the years…. who knows, but I recall something in me saying that your outside is just what the inside gets around in.

So I’m looking at myself…. at that capable appearing girl looking back at me. I see my outsides, and I see that to the rest of the world they appear just fine. Despite my quest for a thinner frame I’m not really overweight, I have hair people are envious of and dimples when I smile. There are no glaring faults to be found, no deformities to be ashamed of. No wonder that girl is disappointed in me. Surely with her outsides, she shouldn’t feel the slight ripples that she does.

Sometimes though I think even she sees that maybe it’s the outsides that are cause for concern because of this very thing. She is tall, slim, attractive even. The girl in the mirror is the one who is the life of the party, the one people crowd around to listen to her tales. She is considered the funny one, the wild one, the glamorous one. Why then is she alone again tonight?

She sees me looking at her as I stare back at myself. We question each other her and I. We can agree on this one thing. That somewhere maybe we went wrong. We were blessed with so much yet let it go unappreciated, have no one to reinforce what we have.

I have disappointed her. I have disappointed myself.

For any of those wondering..

The title of this blog comes from the following song. Not sure if Im keen on the film clip, but there are a few lyrics in this song that always seem to stay with me and pop into my head at the oddest of moments.

Gary Allan - Life Ain't Always Beautiful

The Truth

I don’t even know how to start to explain what I feel like. How do you explain that everything you appear to be is a lie? That you hate yourself so much, and feel so out of control of your life that you think at times how much easier it would be to go to asleep and not wake up. If you look at the earth, there are layers and layers before you get down to the core. I think Im buried underneath all the layers, so far down no one will every find me. So far down that I cant dig myself out anymore, so far down no one can hear you, and so far down even if you want to yell out you can’t, cause the earth closing in around you has muffled your voice..

I’ve tried a lot to tell people, but how do you start, where to begin? And whats the point? Everyone says something along the lines of “what do I have to be sad about?”. I’ve been told that my problems are small, because elsewhere people have it so much worse. I know that, but it doesn’t make my problem any easier to bear. It’s like telling someone that’s got a child born with a disability that its not so bad, because elsewhere children are being blown apart by war.

Like telling someone who’s going through a marriage break up, that it isn’t so bad because elsewhere someones husband is dying. You can’t weigh up one tragedy against another, what someone is going through is their own personal pain, you cant tell them they cant be sad because they were lucky enough to not be going through a war, or a terminal illness or whatever dilemna they are lining you up against to show you they think you should be holding up better.

Sometimes I think of humpty dumpty. He probably didn’t fall off the wall at all, I think so many people probably told him he was okay as an egg he just got the shits and jumped. That’s how I feel. And all those kings horses and all the kings men, no wonder they couldn’t put him back together, once you shatter this bad, no matter what glue they use trying to piece you, we all know that you are never going to be as strong. You are only ever going to be as solid as the fragile bits.

So this egg keeps waking up every day, and going through the motions. No friends would guess at how low I am, I doubt any family would guess the extent. That even when I appear happy, underneath I’m frantically clawing at all the dirt around me, and as it keeps sliding back in I loose the energy to fight against it harder. How do you just walk up and say “by the way, I’m so sad that no matter what you give me, what you say, what you do….I don’t think its gunna work this time”. No one wants to hear that, and no one would believe it. And I can’t do that to anyone, the guilt at thinking about it makes me even lower. I want to be thankful, and part of me is, but the other part, which is the bigger part, keeps waking up in the middle of the night thinking ‘how did I get here and how do I get out?” How did I get buried under this rubble. How come when dirt used to land on me, I was once able to fling it back? I don’t even know what changed that I cant anymore. Something took away my shovel, and without it I’m hopeless.

I sometimes wish I was brave enough to tell everyone that I haven’t been able to pinpoint a day for months on end when I’ve been happy. When I haven’t hated myself, when I haven’t been sad, or woken up crying, or gone to bed crying, or just driven along thinking how I just want to keep going and not come back anymore. I wonder if anyone even knows that I store the lifeline number in my phone, and twice now I’ve been crying and holding the phone in my hand, thinking…if I ring now, will someone understand?


Its tiring living like this. Tiring keeping up a front of faking another smile, and facing another day appearing to be one of the normal people of the world. For the first time ever I understand what people mean when they say depression is like a black cloud over you.

You want to see the sun, but your eyes have forgotten what it looks like. You pretend to everyone you can see it though, because its easier than them thinking you should be leading the freak parade through town.

You tell yourself you are fabulous, you are unstoppable, you are loved and worthy and all the things people are meant to believe in themselves. You tell yourself you are feeling much better, and you tell others the same, but only because its easier than seeming like an ungrateful spoilt child. You wish someone could reach you in your underground world, but you cant even remember how to raise your arm or voice for help. You’re frightened if they do help and its still doesn’t work…….. then what? What if this is it for you?

I don’t know what made me this way, was it anything in particular? Who knows, maybe, maybe not. I couldn’t pinpoint a single event to blame. Maybe it was everything, maybe it was nothing and I’m just another spoilt drama queen. I cant figure it out anymore, and I’m tired of trying. I tried pulling myself up by myself, I tried talking a couple of times, I’m at the point where I don’t know what to do, where to turn, how to get up, or if I even want to get up.

Once again I have a headache. Lack of sleep, too many painkillers, too much sad and not enough happy. To much pretending and not enough living. I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t even know why I’m writing this, but if I don’t write tonight it will only keep going around and around in my head anyway. Maybe tonight I’ll get some sleep.

Like humpty dumpty though, I think I’m in danger of falling off the wall. Funny how that nursery rhyme used to never make sense, I used to wonder why an egg would even be sitting on a wall in the first place, used to think the writer was another mind lost to drugs. I don’t think he was now, I think he was probably just another sad person, and he and I are both sitting on the same wall wondering what to do.