Showing posts with label Life This Week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life This Week. Show all posts

Monday, 19 March 2018

From My Window

From my window, what can be seen?
Freshly mowed lawns, a blanket of green.
Billowy branches of myriad trees
Lazily loll in a summery breeze

Suburban houses stand in a row
Windows like eyes, what do they know?
A car whizzes past to the end of the street
Birds flutter by with a chirrupy tweet

Telegraph poles against a cloudless blue sky
A man on his Iphone slowly shuffles by
Shade from a tree falls across the road
A van is parked, neighbours empty a load

Summer lingers, the sun fierce and intense
No one is keen to chat at the fence
I keep to myself, I like staying inside
Watching, wondering, weary yet wired

The road is now searing in the midday sun
Doors and blinds close, air conditioners hum
A grey car appears, a curious cube shape
I stand at the window to goggle and gape

A haughty cat defies the sultry heat
To silently slink along the quiet street
Tail arched she stops to choose
A shady spot where she can snooze

Visitors pull up and walk into next door
You rarely see children outside anymore
Our road curves around like a horse shoe
Some homes are old, others brand new

The gate is shut next door at number nine
Across the road there's a for sale sign
The people in these houses I hardly know
What do they do? Where do they go?

I stare out the window and wistfully wonder
If it will rain, bringing lightning and thunder
No, it won't, I think this out loud
The sun is too bright, I don't see a cloud

Yet there's the promise of a violent storm
It's autumn now, and the weather's too warm
Everything is brightness, mission green and baby blue
Bushes, branches, leaves becoming a rusty gold hue

I reflect upon this mundane suburban scene
Where things aren't always what they seem
There are stories out there, of this I am certain
One more glance then I slowly close the curtain.

What do you see from your window? 

Monday, 26 February 2018

Taking Stock - February 2018 Edition

Making: An effort to be (reasonably) tidy, organised and have a morning routine. I didn't even make that up. It's true! Seriously. Stop laughing! Sniff. 

Cooking:Lots of really nice recipes out of books from the library. I like to pretend it's still 1990 and there's not billions of the things on the internet. Works for me. 

Drinking: Recently I switched back to decaf tea. Because that's how exciting and cutting edge my life is. Be very jealous. 

Reading:  Various library books, including:

Tales From Below Stairs: The Bestselling Memoirs of a 1920's Kitchen Maid by Margaret Powell. 

Quite an interesting and easy read, especially if you're a Downton Abbey fan like me. The author also wrote several other books  including a cookery one which would be interesting to have a bit of a gawk at. 

Did She Kill Him? A Victorian Tale Of Deception, Adultery & Arsenic by Kate Colquhoun. 

True story of Florence Maybrick, who was convicted of poisoning her husband with arsenic in 1889. In my humble opinion, I reckon she was completely innocent, which makes it a heartbreaking story. Although she escaped being hanged (Eeeeeek!), she spent fifteen years in prison. She died in 1941, penniless and living in squalor. So sad. 

Six Degreess by Honey Brown. 

Fiction. Sex, sex and more sex. I didn't even fathom this from the title of the first chapter: Threesome. What am I like? 

Trawling: Library Books. Obviously. Just for something different. 

Wanting: Rain! Lots of it. Pouring, soaking, glorious RAIN. Side note: it did start pouring after I wrote this! Perhaps I'm a witch or something. Muahahaha! 

Looking: Like a potato with grey hair. So attractive. 

Deciding: What to type here. Hmmmm. Decisions. Decisions. Nope. Got nothing. 

Wishing: THIS: 

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Enjoying: A nice hot cup of decaf tea. Because I like to do wild and crazy things on Monday mornings. 

Waiting: For summer to be over.  Today is actually giving me the illusion that it is. But it will spring back from the depths of hell to incinirate me one more time, I'm sure. 

Liking: Inane things. Like the word 'inane'. Love it. 

Wondering: Why I have such demented dreams. And why I'm demented in general. 

Loving: Snuggling in bed when it's raining. 

Listening: To the rain. A dog barking. The tap tap of my own typing. Blissful silence. 

Considering: What recipe to cook next. Feels like good soup weather today. 

Buying: Food, food, food and more food. And then, five minutes later we need food again. I never have money to buy anything else because it's all spent buying food. 

Watching: Bits and pieces of the ice skating in the winter Olympics. The only sport I can watch without nodding off. 

Hoping: We can go on a holiday some time this year. 

Marvelling: That we can eat quite so much food. 

Needing: According to my shrink I need to make friends. Bwahahahahahaha! She doesn't know who she is dealing with here. Besides, doesn't she know that I have lots of imaginary friends inside the computer? They count, don't they? HMPH. 

Questioning: How on earth you make friends?

Smelling: Pain Away Arthritis cream. Because I appear to be a 95 year old woman called Ethel. 

Wearing: Stretchy 'yoga' pants that I never do yoga in, sexily teamed with a fleecy pyjama top. Tousled bed hair completes the look. Nice. 

Noticing: I have a sore throat. It's so sad. A very tragic situation. And now there is violin music swelling in the background. 

Knowing: Knowing Me, Knowing You! A-HAAAAAAAA! 
Okay, that's an Abba song, but that's what came to mind. And it's mixing it up from Carpenters songs, so shut up. 

Thinking: I need to exercise. I have a sore throat. Why did I put that Abba song in my head? I love the rain. I hate other shit. Where did I put my phone? What day is it?  I wish I could stop thinking...

Admiring: My family. They're pretty awesome. I think I'll keep them. 

Getting: Myself sorta kinda reasonably organised and tidy. Wait. WHAT? Yepski, it's true. See: Making. No idea how long it will last but it's good shit at the moment. 

Disliking: Unspeakable things. Hideous, vile things. I not only dislike these things, but hate them with a passion. You don't want to know. No really, you don't. 

Opening: My mind. To trying to be tidier, kinder to myself and more positive. Something like that anyway. Oh, shut up.

Closing: My eyes for a snooze. 

Feeling: Tired.  See: Closing. 

Celebrating: Mr 13 will be Mr 14 in a few weeks. I also like to celebrate the small wins. Like getting out of bed in the morning. That's something, right? 

Pretending:  I've got my shit together. 

Embracing: Home hacks. Well, some of them. Others are just STUPID.  

So there you have it. That is me tacking stock this fabulous February. Side note: it's only fabulous because it's over in a few days and, with it, summer. Good riddance! 

What are you celebrating in the month of November? 

Monday, 19 February 2018

February Is...

February is...

The shortest month of the year. Consequently it's often the month my dad chooses to go on a diet. He should probably trademark it and sell it. The February Diet. But I'm guessing somebody already has anyway...

February is...

Tricky to spell. Who knew there was a rogue 'r' in there? Okay, only me. Oops. 

February is...

The last month of summer.(If you live in Australia, that is.) Hallelujah! Cue glorious uplifting music. I am SICK of the heat and humidity. SICK OF IT, I tell you! Of course it won't be long before I am complaining about the cold. I like to be consistent in some things. I'm a very consistent weather whinger. Winning! 

February is...

When you're smashing all your resolutions and goals full steam ahead feeling smug and strutting about like a peacock owning 2018 already in month number two. Except I'm not doing that. Oops. 

February is...

The month when I remember the passing of the late great Karen Carpenter. She left this earth 35 years ago on February 4th, 1983. 35 flipping YEARS?! *sobs* 

February is...

The month of lurrrrve, romance, hearts, flowers and all that mushy stuff. Not into it. That's surprising, yeah? But Mickey Blue Eyes did present me with some lovely chocolates from Aldi, and I didn't get him anything. Therefore I decided a Facebook photo with a lovey dovey frame would have to do. And that is what I like to call romance, people. 

February is...

A month in which I have done so many exciting things. Including:

  • Washing windows
  • Tidying the linen cupboard
  • Mopping floors
  • Washing truckloads of dishes
  • Folding vast mountains of clothes
  • Borrowing library books
  • Reading library books
  • Writing lists
  • Writing draft blog posts then never publishing them
  • Going to a shrink appointment
  • Going to a GP appointment
  • Going grocery shopping
  • Making beds
  • Cooking food
  • Eating food

And yeah, I think we're done with the bullshit bullet points. I'm sure you're all suitably jealous now. Snorts. 

February is...

The month after January. Conversely, it's also the month BEFORE March. I always feel the need to include a glaring Captain Obvious moment in my posts. Because why not?  January is my birthday month, so February is my one year and one month birthday. Or something. I don't know. I'm just making this up. 

What else have I been up to in this plodding fast-paced February? I'm glad you asked. The fact that you didn't is only a minor detail. I'll tell you anyway. You're very welcome. 

Recently I borrowed a book from the library called The Housewife's Handbook. See bullet list.  Inside, I found a newspaper clipping with a headline that went something like: "Fair distribution of assets when a marriage fails". 

Evidently someone who borrowed the book before me was also trying to be a top notch housewife. Until the day they decided, screw this, and promptly filed for divorce. I'd like to think that this woman (because only a woman would borrow such a book, I suspect) is now currently sunning herself on a beach in Greece a la Shirley Valentine. 

Meanwhile, I've been a contented little (or not so little) housewife of late. I've been merrily cleaning away. (Again, see bullet list). The other week, Mickey Blue Eyes, looking very concerned, asked me why. You'd think it was totally out of character or something!

Clearly he thought I'd either invited guests without telling him, or completely lost my marbles. Well, it definitely wasn't the former. So yeah, I'm wondering how long will it be before I wish to join my imaginary 'Shirley' on that beach? I think I'll keep Mickey Blue Eyes, though. Hopefully we'll get to that beach together at some point. 

In the meantime, farewell to you, February. Until we meet again. Same time next year. Can you please leave quietly and not incinerate us on your way out? Thank you. 

Now bring on March! 

What is February to you?

Tuesday, 16 January 2018

Favourite Weather

Hello again!  Here I am, back to thrill you with the most scintillating topic:

The weather! 

Specifically, my favourite weather. All I know is, it certainly isn't 47 degrees celcius (or 116.6 fahrenheit, according to an internet converter)!!! Yuck!

This temperature happened here a few weeks ago when NSW officially became the hottest place on Earth.  Yeah, screw that.  That shit is only for satan. Whew. Not fun. Not fun AT ALL. I'd quite like to keep my face attached to my skull, instead of it melting off, thanks very much. Not keen on death by drowning in my own sweat either. 

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Although, I don't really enjoy extreme cold either. I'm an in-between kind of girl.

When it comes to weather, I am Goldilocks. I like it 'just right'!

And since we're talking about Goldilocks, what was her problem anyway? Sneaking into the three bears house and eating their porridge? Who does that? Not cool, Goldilocks!

I know what you're thinking. Calm down, Ness. She was just a character in fairytale and she was lost and hungry or something. Besides, bears don't actually have houses, nor eat porridge. Get a life.

Um. OK. Good point.

So yeah. Weather.

This heat bullshit is exactly that. Utter unmitigated bullshit. We even had a thunderstorm that was more like a mini cyclone! I quite like the odd thunderstorm, but that bordered on scary.

These last few days have been blissfully cooler. On Sunday,  we took a day trip up to the Central Coast to visit friends, and yesterday I celebrated my birthday with a buffet lunch. It must have the been the first birthday in my now 47 years that it hasn't been a scorcher. 

However, the temperatures are set to soar again by the end of the week. Apparently, anyway. Save me! Oh well, no point in complaining about things you can't control. But that doesn't stop me. Ahem. 

So, like Goldilocks. I will find the place where it's just right. And by just right, I mean air-conditioned. And I'll remind myself that Autumn is on it's way. Yay! 

What about you?

What's your favourite weather? 

Monday, 8 January 2018

One Word: 2018 Edition

Good morning, groovers and shakers. Hustlers and movers. Artists and makers. And, you know, everyone. Because of course everyone reads my blog. 😉

A Merry New Year to you all. Can't remember if I said that last time. If I did, it still applies and is worth saying again. I say merry because we can't be happy all the time but we can be merry. Oh wait, is that the same thing? Oh well. Enough about that. 

In keeping with new years, comes the whole 'new year, new me' thing. Additionally there is also the 'one word' phenomenon. The way it works is, you choose a word which is meant to encapsulate your year. A kind of a theme or guide, so to speak. Something like that anyway. I'm probably not explaining it properly.

At any rate, my usual tendency when faced with such frivolities (or important rituals, depending on your point of view), would be to eye roll and dismiss it as claptrap. Because, let's face it, claptrap is, in itself, just a great word. As is codswallop. However, they are not the usual suspects when it comes to choosing your 'one word'. It's the common practice to choose something a little more uplifting.

I certainly wouldn't want my whole  year to be defined by codswallop, while at the same time, I would rather like the opportunity to say such a word at decent intervals throughout the proceedings. I'm weird like that. 

Therefore: codswallop.

Right. Hopefully I have gotten that out of my system for now. Moving on.

In the interest of being a bit more open to things and less cynical, I thought I'd have a crack at this one word malarkey last year. The word I chose was:


Um. Yeah. That didn't go as planned.

Well, there was SOME movement, but not nearly as much as I would have hoped.  But you know what? I am not going to berate myself for this. You know why? I have decided that my one word for 2018 will be...

Drum roll, please...


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With particular emphasis on self-compassion.  You see, I have this inner mean girl who mocks, taunts and castigates me constantly. Yet I would never do such a thing to another human being. What is that all about?

I have gotten somewhat better at thanking my mind for some of these jibes, and then just moving on. This is a practice derived from ACT (Acceptance & Commitment Therapy). So I feel that taking this practice a bit further with some self-compassion on the side will be quite beneficial. That's the plan anyway. 

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I expect it will be uphill work. When you've lived with your inner mean girl for almost 47 years (next week), it's not gonna happen overnight. It will be a work in progress and we'll see how it goes this time next year. It's truly a lifelong thing, isn't it? But this year is about setting it all up for the rest of my life, however long that is. 

And hopefully when I am being much nicer to myself that will help to motivate me to move more. I will be more likely to do the things that benefit and nourish me. Instead of thinking of myself as a fat, lazy sloth creature for not moving, I will tell myself that it's not easy but I can do it. I like the sound of that. Wish me luck! 

What about you?

What do you think of this 'one word' phenomenon? 

Do you have a word for 2018? 

Monday, 1 January 2018

Goodbye To 2017

Happy new year, dear reader! I'm sure it will happy some of the time anyway. Except when it's not. Because that's kind of how life is. If your life is always happy then please leave a comment telling me what drugs you're on and where I can get them.

Meanwhile, before I get on with this year I wanted to tell you a bit about the year just gone. 

In 2017 I: 

January: Curly hair.

  • Slept for hours. And had the weirdest dreams EVER. 
  • Folded MOUNTAINS of washing because I have SUCH a glamorous life.
  • Made the weekly pilgrimage to Aldi because I have to get my excitement somehow.
  • Started the year with curly hair and finished with spiky hair. 
  • Ate lots of bad food.
  • Ate lots of good food. 
  • Got a new shrink because apparently I am still demented.
  • Felt anxious in K Mart.
  • Felt calm in Coles.
  • Drank a billion cups of tea.
  • Borrowed tonnes of books from the library then forgot to take them back on time.
  • Drank cappucinos while sitting on orange chairs under fluorescent lights. 
  • Daydreamed.
  • Wrote pointless lists.
  • Wrote purposeful lists. 
  • Chose my 'one word': MOVE.
  • Decided to take this word as more of a light suggestion in favour of other entrancing words, such as REFINED CARBOHYDRATES and SLOTH. 
  • Pondered important questions.
  • Pondered trivial questions.
  • Prayed I didn't have cancer again. And I don't even believe in God. Weird.
  • Had my tits crushed. I didn't have cancer. YAY! 
  • Had a tooth ripped out. Which is always fun. Said no one ever.
  • Drank lots of Bailey's Coffee Liqueur in Wagga Wagga.
  • Drank champagne in the south of France.
  • Made stuff up. Like that last point. Incidentally I have no idea why the south of the France is supposed to be better than anywhere else in France. I'm never likely to find out either. Sigh.
  • Wrote in a two dollar journal from KMart with glitter pens from Aldi.  Yes, I know. There was no need for me boast about such things. We've already established how lavish my life is. 
  • Passed a lady at the shops wearing a vivid multi-coloured sparkly kaftan with her hair dyed just as many colours and thought she's probably quite fun to have as a friend. Or a complete nut. One or the other. 

November: Spiky hair. 

And I could go on and on, but it's obvious what an eventful year 2017 was for me. So it is with a wistful heart that I say farewell to you, 2017. No, we will never meet again, except in my memories. Well, let's face it,  not even there particularly, because I have a brain like a sieve. So it's a firm goodbye. You were neither good, nor bad. Just meh. Boring. Beige. But I didn't mind a bit of beige. I've had quite enough of pink, thank you very much. 

Let's see what 2018 brings. Be nice, 2018! 

What about you?

What did you do in 2017?

Monday, 11 December 2017

Today I Will...

Today I will wake up in the morning bursting to pee with enthusiasm.

Then I will go for a lovely refreshing walk. To the kitchen. Specifically, the fridge.

Today I will hug my boys. Well, Mr 9 at least, because he's the only one who lets me these days.

Today I will breathe and be thankful and all that hippy drippy positivity stuff. When I'm not being grumpy or bored or irritable or anxious... Who me? Nah, never.

I expect I will have a cup of tea. Actually, several. Hence the bursting thing... See above.

It's highly likely that I will stare vacantly into space at some point.

Furthermore, I am quite certain that I will walk into a room and forget exactly why I did so.

I will eat healthy food and nourish my body. Unless there is cake, because let's be honest, I'll shovel that shit in.

I might go shopping. Well, I will be in the shops. I may not do much actual shopping because apparently they expect you to pay for things which I find quite rude.

I will reluctantly lovingly prepare food and feed my family. Well, they'll eat something at some point anyway, even if it's cereal.

Today I will be purposeful and proactive instead of meandering and reactive. Snorts. Strike that. Reverse it.

Today I will jot my lovely list in my bullshit bullet journal and cross off ALL THE THINGS. OK, some of the things. Shut up.

Today I will laugh at the absurdity of everything. Because seriously, what else can you do?

Today I will read memes on the internet and share them.  Because I enjoy wasting my life on such frivolities.

Today I will try not to compare myself to others. After all, I'm awesome. Well, flawsome at least. Sniff.

Today I will wear my comfy shoes. And no bra because comfy and bra in the same sentence is an oxymoron.

Today I will type this sentence. Done. 

I will wash a mountain of dishes. That's always fun. Said no one ever.

No wait, I'm supposed to be MINDFUL while I do so. Okey dokey. I will mindfully wash a mountain of dishes. Nope. Still not fun.

I will tell my monkey mind 'NOT NOW' when it tries to trick me with its taunts.

Today I will read some words and write some words. I will probably only utter one or two words however, because that's just how I roll.

Today I will do lots of housework because I'm a dedicated and diligent housewife. And also we're expecting visitors so I kinda have no choice. Details. 

Today I will scratch my ears because they're always so damn itchy. Why are they always itchy? 

Today I will ponder upon the fact that in one month and four days I will be 47 years old and I'm so glad to be getting older and that I don't have to start chemo two days before my birthday like I did in 2016. 

Today I will pick up random crap as I go about my housework (see above) and become baffled about what it is, where it came from and what the hell are we living like. Just me? 

I will pause for a cup of coffee mid morning. Because I like to mix it up from all the cups of tea. 

Today I will focus on just today instead of thinking about tomorrow or pondering on yesterday. Until I get into bed and brain doesn't want to oblige. Silly brain. 

Today I will type an ending to this blog post. Otherwise I'll still be here rambling on tomorrow and nobody wants that. 

OK. Done.

What about you?

What will you do today? 

Monday, 20 November 2017

Taking Stock: November Edition

Making: Cups of tea. What else? 

Cooking: Dinner. I am still expected to do this EVERY NIGHT because the Dinner Fairy never arrives. HMPH. 

Drinking: Tea and water. I did buy a bottle of wine the other day and then realised I was on anti-biotics so I couldn't have any. Cue weepy violin music. 

Reading: Just finished a novel I borrowed from the library called The Misinterpretation Of Tara Jupp. It was okay, but waaay too long. Now I have to decide what to read next. 

Trawling: Hmmm, no trawling whatsoever happening for me at the moment.

Wanting: World peace. A cure for cancer. To eat whatever I want and not get fat. Twenty million dollars. Yeah, just when you thought I was deep...

Looking: For a good book to read.

Deciding: The book thing. See above.

Wishing: I was one of those insane sporty people who love running and crossfit and netball and soccer and bats balls boorrring...

Enjoying: The last few weeks of spring before the seventh circle of hell that is summer arrives. 

Waiting: Seems like I'm always waiting for anxiety to pass. It always does, BUT.... lordy I'm sick of it. Sigh. 

Liking: Typing shitty words. I'm weird. 

Wondering: This that and the other. About life, the universe and everything. 

Loving: Don't really know, other than the usual trite answer of my boys. 

Listening: To too many true crime podcasts. Some one make me stoooop...

Considering: Going back to another dietitian. I went a while back and was kind of underwhelmed... but anyway, excuses excuses... 

Buying: Lots of groceries. And some clothes for the boys and myself. 

Watching: Ummm. Not watching much besides Rosehaven and The Letdown on ABC. 

Hoping: Certain things I cannot speak of will work out. 

Marvelling: There is no marvelling at the moment. Not feeling particularly marvelous at all right now. This too shall pass. 

Cringing: At this post. It's so boring. 

Needing: Cold hard cash, a kick up the arse, a new brain, a new body. And, I dunno, everything. 

Questioning: Why I'm even bothering with this.

Smelling: Coffee.

Wearing: Granny clothes, because I'm classy like that. 

Noticing: I have a sore throat and I'm in a sooky la la mood today. See above. 

Knowing: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Capital N, capital O, capital T... Oh okay, you know how to spell nothing in caps.

Thinking: I'm thinking that thinking is over rated.

Admiring: Happy, perky, bubbly people... That is, when I don't want to stab them...

Getting: Ready to pack for Mr 16's school camp and a road trip I'm going on with my mum to Wagga Wagga to visit relatives. 

Disliking: Anxiety and tooth issues. Related: I had a tooth abcess and then had to have the tooth extracted last week. Fun times. 

Opening: Um. Cupboards and drawers so I can pack. See above.

Closing: Same. 

Feeling: Blah. Sooky sooky la la...

Celebrating: Nothing. Capital N, capital O... Oh yeah, we already did this. 

Pretending:  People read this shit. Then again, just as well they don't...

Embracing: I dunno. Nothing, really. 

Yeah, so that was depressing. Oops.

Tune in next time, when I will be back to my usual perky sunny cheerful self... Snorts.  

What are you celebrating in the month of November? 

Monday, 13 November 2017

My Last Year Of School

In 1988, I finished my last year of high school. Almost 30 years ago. Yikes. I'm OLD.

I have to admit, I don't remember a great deal about it. I certainly wasn't studying like a maniac for the HSC. I had a bit of a laid back, I'll-do-it-tomorrow approach to it all. Coughs. Nothing's changed...

I was most likely too busy doing other important things. Just like every 1988 era 17 year old. You know, like watching The Comedy Company (which apparently premiered in February of that year) and  listening to my Carpenters and Barbra Streisand records... Oh wait...

Okay, I have no idea what regular 17 year olds did. But I suspect they had boyfriends and would sneak out to drink and try to get into night clubs...

But I totally did wild and crazy things too! Like staying up really late and watching the US today show when it came on at midnight or something. I'm such a rebel. Snorts. Oh yeah, there was an embarrassing incident when I sarcastically announced to the class that I was rebel, but I don't remember the finer details. Hmmmmm.

I had absolutely no idea whatsoever what I wanted to do when school ended. To this day, I still don't. I'm sure I'll figure it out one of these days.

Anyway, I don't feel like ruminating about all of that. So, instead let's just laugh at the fashions and hairstyles.

Here I am with my infamous mullet-perm.

I was kind of cute in a dorky way. Sort of. Maybe. Oh, shut up.

As I've already mentioned, I loved The Carpenters and Barbra, but predictably, I also loved Madonna. It was 1988. I was 17. I think it was compulsory.

I was stupidly shy and insecure, but at the school formal I thought I was pretty special in the dress my mum made me (Pictured above). It was ruched and strapless, and then it had this tulle over skirt thing with a gigantic bow. I think bows were a thing in the 80s.

Also, check out the lovely old carpet my parents had.😂

Not to mention to the beautiful doiles on the armchairs. Noice.

The only other thing I remember is that I completely bombed out in the HSC. Sigh. Sad face. 😭 I guess I am one of those reasonably intelligent people who just doesn't do well in structured exams. That's what I tell myself, anyway. Or it could have been that lack of studying thing... Oops. 

Anyway, fast forward 29 years and here I am smashing life and being delusional awesome, so all good. 

To be perfectly honest, I'm glad those school days are over. I was always a Nelly No Friends and therefore desperately lonely. Sigh. 

So I'm quite happy to be old after all. 

What about you? 

What do you remember about your last year of school? 

Monday, 6 November 2017

Meditation. Yay or Nay?

Greetings, spectacular humans! How are you? I am feeling quite content right now. It's Saturday evening as I type this, and I'm sitting here blogging with a lovely meal in my immediate future. We ordered Chinese takeout. Because health fanatics, obviously!

Although, I am a little bummed about my lack of wine to wash it down with. I gotta be honest. Oh, well. We can't have everything.

If all goes well, I will be hitting publish on Monday, and I'm sure I'll be over the wine thing by then. All good.

On with the show! Or, you know, the blog post. 

Let's talk meditation. Yes, I segued from wine to meditation. As you do.

Except I'm NOT. HMPH! 

It's time to join in the fun for Life This Week. This week, the wonderful Denyse, over at Denyse Whelan Blogs , is asking this question:

Meditation: Yay or Nay?

I love this question. I am going to answer it. That's the whole point. Here goes. 

Well, my answer would be this: In theory I'm all about the yay when it comes to meditation. But with much more enthusiasm. As in, YAY! Meditation! Except I think you're supposed to be all chilled and zen during the process, so I should probably tone it down a bit. 

In pratice, however, I'm afraid my answer would have to be a rather stressed and mournful nay. Sigh.

I WANT to able to meditate. In fact, I DO mediate from time to time. I mean, meditate. (I mediate my boys arguments as well, so that boo boo sort of works...).

Well, I TRY to meditate. But my monkey mind is having none of it. Not one little bit. It wants to tell me I'm dizzy, remind me of dumb things, make me fidget and squirm and just not cooperate in making me feel all floaty and peaceful and calm. Yet another sigh. 

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Furthermore, I also fail at visualisation exercises. I am meant to be practicing an exercise in which I dump all my thoughts and worries into an imaginary boat and watch them drift away. The thing is, I don't like boats.

I probably should have mentioned that to my shrink. I kind of have a water phobia. Using 'kind of' in the sense of definitely. Therefore, I've only tried to do this exercise once. 

It's weird because I'm a chronic daydreamer. I've gone so far as to wonder if I'm what is called a maladaptive daydreamer.

Maybe. There is a strong possibility...  Ahem. I can zone out at inconvenient times, but when I try to do it a formal or structured way it doesn't work. 

I might be better off trying something like yoga or tai chi,which (I think) is meant to be 'meditation in motion'? 

Mickey Blue Eyes was always someone who was scathing about meditation but when he was going through cancer treatment he became a reluctant convert. He reported being able to get into such a relaxed state that he was floating. I figured if someone like him could do it, I should be able to master it. But alas, no luck! 

I wonder if, ironically, worrying about the inability to meditate is making me more stressed. I mean, it's supposed to be a relaxing activity, not another thing on a to-do list!

I find reading, listening to music and even patting my dog to be relaxing. Aren't those things good enough? Do I really need to meditate?

There was a time when I thought I'd never be able to cope with panic attacks or sit with uncomfortable feelings and face fear. However, I've managed to do these things in the last few years. I guess having no choice makes you do things you never thought you'd do. So, maybe I'll eventually be able to meditate. I just have to find the right way for me. 

In the meantime, it's now Monday and I'm certainly NOT over the wine thing. Pffffft. As if!

What about you? 

Do you meditate? 

Monday, 16 October 2017

Letter To My 20 Year Old Self

Dear 20 year old Ness,

Hello, dear girl! Well, actually you're a young woman now. A proper grown up. I know! You certainly don't feel like one. I suspect you never will.

And you know what? It's okay. Most people are faking it, anyway. Besides, being a grown up is totally overrated, as you are discovering.

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Oh yes, it's me by the way, your 46 year old self. Yes, you do make it to such a frightfully ancient number. There's a lot ahead of you. Some of it good. Some of it bad. Just like everyone else.

I expect you already got the letter I wrote to our sixteen year old self and was somewhat puzzled and intrigued. But what I said then still stands.

The thing is, I was going to provide you with a long list of do's and don't s:

DO ditch that boyfriend.

DON'T  perm your hair anymore.

DO keep working in libraries.

DON'T put up with toxic 'friends'.

But recently I had something of an epiphany around the concept of regrets.

You're inclined to a lot of introspection - you can't help it, you're a massive introvert among other things - but you have to be mindful of not spiralling into too much rumination and over thinking. Besides, you don't spend too much more time with the boyfriend or toxic friends anyway. 

So the only thing I really need to say is, you're actually okay. Just be kind to yourself.

This will be the last little self indulgent letter to myself, I'm fairly certain. After all, you now have a blog all about yourself. Coughs...

There are so many things you can write. Give them ago.

No wait. I lied.There IS another letter from your future self coming at 35. What I said there stands as well.  Some hair curling shit will happen, but you'll be okay. Seriously. 

At 46 you've realised that you're an odd contradiction of sweet, childlike and naive and an old nanna soul. And it's all good.

You will never be hip and cool and groovy. I mean, you just used the word groovy. Enough said.  

So, what other interesting things can I report about the future?

2017 is...

Interesting and challenging. 

We certainly don't live like those Jetsons cartoons, and alas, as I mentioned before, there are no hover boards. Hanna-barbera and Steven Spielberg are great big fat LIARS. Of course, you didn't fair too well with roller skates, so I'm sure you won't be too disappointed to discover this. 

Sadly I am unable to divulge any future lotto numbers. This is truly tragic. I dunno, it's like the whole 'letters to past selves thing' don't work or something? 

If I didn't know any better I'd swear The Magic Faraway Tree wasn't real and Samantha from Bewitched wasn't an actual witch...

Okay, maybe they weren't, but it doesn't hurt to believe in magic sometimes in this bat shit crazy, frightening, bewildering world. Yes, you're still a dreamer. So what? 

So yeah, the only things I need to say are, be kind to yourself and don't take it all so seriously. No one gets out of this thing alive anyway. You may as well laugh at the absurdity and sheer ridiculousness of it all. 

Which is why the perms weren't such a bad thing after all. They're freaking hilarious in retrospect. 

Me at age 20 in 1991 ready
for my TAFE graduation.

At my 21st birthday. 

See what I mean? 


46 year old Ness

What would you tell your 20 year old self?

Monday, 9 October 2017

No More Regrets

Well howdy doody and how are you? Can you believe I said 'howdy doody'? I don't even know what it means! Never mind.

I am  here to talk about regrets. I have blogged about this before and came up with a whole list which you can read here.

The thing is, I re-read the list and thought about it some more. Because I love to over think things. And I began to wonder.  The root cause at the crux of some of these regrets is my ongoing battle with anxiety.

The question I'm asking myself is this: is anxiety something you regret? I mean, if you have an anxiety disorder it's not really your fault, though it is your responsibility. Fault/blame and responsibility are two different things to my mind. You can't be blamed for struggling with such a thing, but you are responsible for managing it.

Considering that my anxiety is clearly linked to the fact that I'm autistic and that is to do with the way my  brain is wired, saying I regret certain things where anxiety is at play is almost like regretting my entire existence.

I guess I'm not making much sense. Bear with me. I mean, looking at that old list I made a lot decisions based on fear and not being able to manage negative emotions. But at the time, I didn't understand that. Perhaps I didn't have the maturity or the knowledge. I mean, I didn't even know that I'm autistic until I was 40!

And even when I knew that I had an anxiety disorder, I didn't really accept it truly and properly. When anxiety in the form of panic attacks first tapped me on the shoulder many years ago, I thought of it as something more like a broken arm or a virus. Eventually it would clear off and that would be the end of it. But as anyone who struggles with this beast knows, it simply doesn't work that way.

It's only through accepting it about yourself and taking responsibility for managing it can you move forward and live a decent life. And honestly, looking back on it, I wasn't even given adequate treatment at first. It was only through my own perseverance that I kept going and trying things. Nobody ever even suggested that I see some one or pursue any help. It's almost like you're not taken seriously with these things if you're a woman... Especially one like me who has been a stay at home parent for many years. Anyway, I was trying to make a point but as usual I am rambling!

I'm just wondering about the futility of regretting things in life when you're an autistic human who has an anxiety disorder. I can say that I regret anxiety taking over my life, but at the same time, I was never given the correct tools to address it.  Somehow it seems that I've had to be very resourceful in trying to help myself and come to terms with it.

I've had six years to digest my diagnonsense and it still seems like there are often things I have to figure out and try to come to terms with.

I'm not organised. I am not a happy bubbly type. I don't know how to put it into words without sounding really negative. I am not really the person who would ever take off and go trekking by myself or do big gutsy brave things. I am not loud or opinionated or ballsy. And while I admire people who are, I can only be myself.  I am stuck being myself. A lot of times I think I should be things like confident and positive and I'm just not.

It's like if some people work out something they want to do they seem to know exactly what to do and the steps to take and then sustain it. I'm not like that. I can do certain things at times for periods of time, but not sustain it long-term. I can do one thing really well for a while. I can't do all the things.

Having anxiety and being autistic and introverted and all those things takes up a great deal of energy. I am who I am. And it is what it is.

It sounds odd, but I've realised I have to forgive myself for a lot of my perceived regrets or mistakes I made.

Ultimately I have wonderful parents, Mickey Blue Eyes and the boys and a small circle of family and friends who care about me and mean the world to me. And I want to concentrate on that. I did make some good decisions in life. Not that I want to bang on about cancer all the time, but having a brush with it certainly makes you realise you don't want to waste energy on a bunch of regrets.

But I do regret the 'howdy doody' thing. That was pretty dumb.

What about you?

What is your attitude towards regrets? 

Monday, 18 September 2017

Taking Stock - September Edition

Making: You know what? I don't really make things, unless you count breakfast, lunch and dinner. And even then it's often toast. 

Cooking: Dinner. See above. What exciting and delectable delights have I concocted of late? Um. Yeah, just the toast thing. 

Drinking: My usual cups of tea. Sometimes I mix it up and have coffee. But mostly tea. Also GALLONS of water because I'm just getting over a cold. 

Reading: Just finished a novel I borrowed from the library called Beside Myself by Ann Morgan. It was SO GOOD. Now I'm having trouble letting it go and moving on to another book. What am gonna DO??? *starts reading ten other books* 

Trawling: Through all the mess and dust and cobwebs. Related: I began cleaning the other day and thought I was making good progress until I paused to put on my glasses so I could actually see properly. Big mistake. 

Wanting: New clothes. I hate all my clothes. 

Looking: Mournfully into my wardrobe and sighing. See above. 

Deciding: I don't know anything about everything in the whole entire world ever. Also, I can't make decisions. So, I can't decide what I'm deciding. I've decided.

Wishing: That I could afford an entire wardrobe of new clothes. Because I hate my clothes. Did I mention that? 

Enjoying: Oh! I actually started bullet journaling and I'm ENJOYING it. I suspected it'd be more like bullshit journaling to scatty old me. But blow me down and woosh me all the way back to ancient Egypt if I didn't surprise myself by liking it. I mean, I'm still a hot mess, but I have a pretty book and pens with lists and symbols and shit in it, so that's something. 

Waiting: For the wheels to fall off  my bullet journal experiment. Metaphorically speaking. It doesn't actually have wheels. 

Liking: Bullet-journaling! See above. 

Wondering: The first thing that came to mind was the Wombles theme song... I wondered how it went. Haven't heard it for YEARS. I thought it said something about wondering wombles or wombles are wondering... Or something. Anyway, I was wrong. But at least I get the important issues resolved. You're welcome. 

Loving: The sunshiney spring weather. I want it to linger before the seventh circle of hell that is summer arrives. 

Pondering: How long it will take to get the Wombles theme song out of my head... 

Listening: To the voices in my head. It's chatty up there. Too bad that never translates to real life situations. Oh,well. Meh. 

Considering: Having a go at NaNoWriMoStarting a strenght-training routine like I did YEARS ago. Doing yoga (also been years...) . Meditating. Failing yet another attempt at becoming veggo. Just considering all this, mind you. Probably never do any of it. Except the failing thing. I can manage that. 

Buying: I totally SPLURGED the other day and bought a two dollar shirt and journal in KMart. I know! What am I like? SO frivolous. 

Watching: Ummm. Offspring (finished now). The Wrong Girl and Pulse. Also, SBS Insight... And other random shit. 

Hoping: That we might be able to go on one of our glamorous holidays some time in the future. Denman, here we come! Don't ask...

Marvelling: At the juxtaposition of how complicated yet boring as batshit life can be. 

Cringing: At my weight that is creeping up and up and up.... eeeeek...

Needing: To lose weight. Sigh.

Questioning: Why I can't just buy all the clothes. I REALLY hate my clothes.

Smelling: My signature dish: Toast.

Wearing: Revolting clothes that I HATE. Also, more clothes that I hate. And then I have to wear clothes that utterly repulse me. Yeah. Cause I hate my clothes. 

Noticing: I'm pretty sure I hate my clothes. 

Knowing: Yep. HATE. MY. CLOTHES. 

Thinking: About all the clothes I would buy, but then I'd probably just hate them too.

Admiring: Other people's clothes. 

Getting: Well, I'm certainly not getting any clothes. Sniff. 

Disliking: Do I really have to answer that? Okay, then. Books with dumb or disappointing endings. There! Tricked you! You thought I was I gonna say my clothes! So ner.

Opening: Books. I still love a good old-fashioned paper book.

Closing: My wardrobe doors. It's too utterly devastating and soul-destroying to look at the ATROCITIES in there. Now would be a good time to Konmari the f@*k out of my wardrobe. None of my clothes 'spark joy'. But then I would have to walk about naked and nobody wants that. 

Feeling: Fat. Also, like I want to eat all the chocolate. Is it possible the two are related? Hmmmm...

Celebrating: My yearly mammogram results were ALL GOOD! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Pretending: That the washing up will do itself if I wait long enough. I don't think it's gonna work. Sigh. 

Embracing: Bullet-journaling, clothes-hating. My children. Well, Mr 8 - the other boys are less huggy these days. It happens.

Done! That's my stock-taking for September.

What are you celebrating in the month of September?