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

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.



Image credit:https://www.facebook.com/purpleclvr/photos/a.375609882543951.1073741828.369508529820753/1953758248062432/?type=3&theater


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? 


Sincerely,

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? 

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

Alone Together


Hello! How are you? All well and bursting with vitality and joie de vivre? I certainly hope so. I am not. Presently I appear to be suffering from Mum Flu. You know the one. It's like Man Flu except no one gives a shit. Yep. That's the one.

Despite this, I figured it was about time I made a guest appearance on my own blog. As is my usual fashion, I have started posts numerous times only to trail off unable to articulate what I wanted to say. It's always unpleasant when this happens. I usually express myself better through writing. But anyway, here I am. Even clunky words are better than none. At least that's what I'm telling myself. Draw your own conclusions.




Apart from the ghastly old Mum flu phenomenon I also have blue screen of death issues. Yes, it is with great sorrow that I announce the tragic passing of my trusty laptop. I thought I  may be able to revive it. In vain, I tried for hours to find a solution. Sadly, it now won't even switch on. With that goes the laptop and my promising career in IT. Snorts.

So here I am using an ancient dodgy laptop that only works while plugged in. Nice. Problem solving, people. That's what creativity is. I'm nothing if creative. Or something...

Anyway, I wanted to chime in on last weeks Friday Reflections prompt before it's too late: Alone,Together.

An odd coincidence occurred. When I sat down to write my thoughts about this I flipped open one of my many paper journals/notebooks to find an old entry from July. This is what I had written:

It's a really mellow time of the afternoon. A sort of peaceful vibe has descended over the day. It's lovely. There are sounds of distant birds and cars, but they're a pleasing murmur. Everyone is in their own world. It's good to slow down. I wonder when exactly is it considered to be dusk? Or twilight? I need to turn the light on, but I don't want to get up and break the mood. I quite like sitting here while the gentle darkness tiptoes in around me. I am savouring the relative calmness I feel in the moment. Whenever I am in another horrible moment I can remind myself that moments like this exist as well. There are not enough places here in this house for all of us to be alone. Alone, together. I like that. 

Okay, so that wasn't particularly riveting upon reading it again. But my point is, I quite like the alone, together thing. I suspect many folk would view this as a negative thing. I don't. We are a very introverted family. In fact, I reckon, 'alone, together' could be our motto. In my opinion, alone time is essential to re-charge. Solitude is soothing and necessary for equilibrium. It doesn't mean we're not a family, a team, a united front. We are.





Alone doesn't necessarily mean lonely, to my way of thinking. I've experienced loneliness as a teenager and that is a very different thing. I certainly wouldn't want to be lonely again. I do want to be alone quite frequently.


Luckily, I am enjoying this very thing as I type this. I'm loving the peace and quiet. Later, I will welcome the noise and togetherness of my family but for now I enjoy the tranquillity... Of course I also have lots of stuff to do. But it's nice to it without interruptions. 


In other exciting developments, I have begun bullet journaling. I had heard of it before, but didn't expect it to work for a scatter-brain like me. However, I really like it. Plus, I have so many  notebooks to use up, so why not? Speaking of excitement, I also managed to make it to the library last week after my shrink appointment. Yes, I am still as cutting edge as ever. Some things never change.

Before I go, it's also the one year birthday of  Denyse Whelan's Life This Week link-up.  I am a little late to the party, but better late than never! So congratulations and thanks to Denyse. I like to link up whenever I can and the prompts are helpful as well. In future I will endeavour to be less erratic and join in more often. And now we all get CAKE! Am I right? 


Okay, just a short and sweet one. Gotta go. Things to do. Lists to tick. Serenity to saviour. 

Seeya! 


Monday, 21 August 2017

The Subject Of Selfies


Reasons I rarely take selfies: 




  • I have a dinosaur phone with a flip case. Apparently it's a 'mum' thing. I thought it was just a broke economical thing. Silly me. 
  • I AM a dinosaur. Consequently I can't take a decent photo to save my life. And I use idiotic expressions like 'can't take a photo to save my life'.
  • Duck face selfies are stupid. Related: they should be called cat's bum selfies instead. See above.
  • I don't like my double chin. Okay, chins.
  • I have no idea where I put my selfie stick... Hmmmm....
  • My house is quite...shall we say... lived in... Nobody needs to see that.
  • My life revolves around trips to Aldi and the doctor. Riveting. These occasions don't exactly strike me selfie opportunities.
  • My fashion style is basically described as 'whatever still fits'. So, yeah. Nothing to show there.
  • I'm told I can be quite negative. Pffft. Can't imagine why. So I don't really get into the whole hashtag blessed etc phenomenon.



Reasons I probably could (I won't say should) take selfies sometimes:





  • Nobody cares about my double chins besides me, and if they do, screw them.
  • My children might actually want to remember me one day, despite their current vehement antipathy to featuring in any photos with me on social media.
  • If I ever become a missing person or a murder victim, the authorities will have to use a dated image of me, such as the one of my bald noggin when I had chemo. On the plus side, I was assured that I have a lovely shaped head. Related: I may have been listening to too many true crime podcasts...
  • Last time I posted a selfie on Facey I had several people comment on how GORGEOUS I am. They were probably just blowing smoke up my arse, but I don't get many compliments, so I'll take it.
  • Taking a selfie, however bad, might be a good distraction when I'm feeling wobbly (ie anxious) when out and about.
  • Who says you have to be good at everything you do? Just do it anyway. Perfect is boring. I'd never do anything if I had that attitude. Oh wait...
  • I recently had a haircut and I have finally lost the frizz! It's now just wavy but not frizzy. Okay, that's not that exciting to anyone else but me. I can finally get a brush through it again! YAY! 




So I should probably end this with a selfie, but I'm wearing an alluring combo of track suit pants and a purple Best & Lest jumper that's seen better days. Actually, I lie. It never had better days. It was always hideous. I think your mental picture should be sufficient. You're welcome.

But I will 'get in the picture' at some point...

Over and out.

Do you take selfies? What is the best way to disguise double chins? 

Monday, 14 August 2017

Ideal Meal


 Greetings!

Here I am again. Back to talk about one of my favourite topics: FOOD!

So what is my ideal meal, you ask? 

These days, my ideal meal would have to be almost anything I don't have to cook. It's frightfully rude how I am expected to do so every single night. HMPH.





But since I like to eat every day, I do get on with it and manage to produce something vaguely edible. They're not necessarily 'ideal' or 'favourite' meals, but they're good enough. 

My actual favourites would have to be anything cooked by my mum. Especially her roasts and desserts, including her infamous apple pie.

Other than that, I do enjoy a good lobster mornay. However, I never cook it, because I'm quite terrible at making things like mornay sauce. Consequently I haven't had this delicacy in YEARS.

I find such meals are best enjoyed with a good bottle of wine. Also; dessert afterwards. There's always room for dessert! 




There I am, above. enjoying some lobster mornay with a glass of wine. It was such a long time ago I do not remember where this photo was taken. I suspect in was way back in the grand and glorious pre-children days. It seems like a parallel universe now. We actually went on nice relaxing holidays and ate at lovely restaurants that didn't serve chicken nuggets. Those were the days. Sigh.

Of course, I couldn't get through this post without mentioning my beloved cakies. They may not be considered a meal exactly, but as I mentioned above, there's always room for dessert.

On the other hand, if I want to have cake for breakfast, why not? Yep, I am literally one of those disgusting people who could seriously eat cake for breakfast. No surprise that I struggle with my weight and cholesterol levels. Oops. 

I mean, I don't eat cake for breakfast. Well, most of the time I don't...  But I could.  Well, what is the difference between having cake or pancakes or waffles? They're all so so bad and so so GOOD. If you know what I mean. 

So there you are. Just a short and sweet serving from me, because my brain seems to not be working and I can't get the words right. 

Conclusion:  My ideal meal would involve a roast or lobster mornay and cakies. When you say that all together in one sentence, it confirms what I already suspected: I am gross and disgusting. 

Over and out. 

What about you?

Are you gross and disgusting?


Uh I mean, what is your ideal meal? 

Monday, 7 August 2017

About Being The Baby (With Bonus Dilly Dallying)

Hello again, dear and delightful people. Okay, person. There must be at least one person reading out there. I hope...

 And I can say you're delightful because you're inside the computer. This makes it SO much easier. I don't even have to get dressed, although I am. Badly. See? Easier all round. I can wear awful clothes and your eyeballs are spared that atrocity. 

Anyway, on with the show. Or the blog post. You know what I mean... 

This popped up in my Facebook memories this morning:




It made me realise that I am quite fond of a bit of dilly dallying. I do it here all the time, popping in and out at my fancy.  Nothing wrong with that, right?

But I'm here now, so let's get on with it. I'm wondering if my propensity towards dilly dallying has anything to do with my birth order? I was the baby of the family. I have one older brother.

The first thing I discover when I google birth order is, the stereo-type for the 'baby' of the family is being a free spirit, a risk taker and charming. Well yes, I am quite charming in my own way. Aren't I?

But as for the other two - forgeddaboutit! I am definitely not a risk taker, at any rate.

Meanwhile, I did go on to have three children of my own, despite being a hard core introvert. Hmmmm, maybe I AM a risk taker? 

Anyway, what I was going to say was,  I didn't really think 'middle child syndrome' was  a thing until I had three children.  All I am going to tactfully say is, my middle child and my youngest have an interesting relationship. It could certainly be described as love/hate at times. It can be quite difficult and complicated to navigate as a parent. 

I remember watching The Brady Bunch as a kid. It was always Jan and Peter, the middle siblings, who seemed to be having a permanent identity crisis.  The Brady Bunch is a totally credible, realistic and cutting edge show to use as a reference. Or something. Okay, maybe not. But I just like to bring up a random daggy pop culture reference, because that's how I roll. Deal with it. 

Incidentally, my 'baby', aka Mr 8, is off on his first ever overnight camp tonight. I did find myself becoming considerably more anxious about this fact than I remember being for the other two. Are we inclined to be more over protective towards the youngest child? On the other hand, there is also the theory that by the time you get to number three you're much more... ahem...relaxed...





Thinking about it, I guess it would have been interesting for me had my parents decided to have more children. That would have made me the middle child.  Evidently my mum was firm in her decision to only have two children, so I stayed the 'baby'. To this day I am still a mummy's (and daddy's) girl. I am not sure how much of this is due to my birth order or my personality. I've always been shy, quiet and introverted. And, as it turned out, autistic. But I didn't know about the latter growing up.

Oh! Random segue: I suddenly recalled a funny incident when we brought my second born son home from the hospital. His brother, then Mr 3, suggested to me that we could put him in the bin and the garbage truck would come and get him! So there was definitely a bit of jealousy going on at the beginning. They're good buddies now, thankfully.

And I think that is all I have to say about birth order. The conclusion: I have no idea. But this 'baby' still likes dilly dallying. I'm off to do so right now. 

What about you?

What is your birth order? Do you think it effects your personality?


Are you a middle child? Or a dilly dallyer? 


Have I asked enough pointless questions? Should I throw in one more? 


Someone make me stop asking questions...





Monday, 24 July 2017

I Can't Live Without...


Hey. It's me. Yep, I'm still here. 

I haven't felt like checking in here recently. To be honest, I'm struggling yet again with the wobbles and I don't want to bore everyone with it. Nothing dramatic has happened. It just sneaks up on me now again, because it's pesky like that. Anyway, as I said...it's frightfully tedious...yawwwwn.... 

Oh yeah, and it's also been confirmed via a blood test that I am indeed menopausal. So I guess it's understandable that my moods might be a bit all over the place. Sigh. 

I am doing all the things I need to do to get some equilibrium back. Seeing a shrink, exercise, medication. Blah blah blah... But it all takes time.  And I will get there eventually. So I might pop in and out of this space if and when I feel like it. I'm just trying to not give myself too many things to think about at the moment. 




So in order to keep it simple, here's a quick and to the point list of the things I cannot live without: 

1. Oxygen.
2. Water.
3. Food.
4. CAKIES!
5. Chocolate.
6. Tea.
7. Books.
8. Music.
9. Peace and quiet/solitude.
10. Oh yeah, my family are pretty great, too. 
11. Exercise. 
12. Writing. 

Yep, I'm doing my usual Captain Obvious with numbers 1, 2 and 3. Or perhaps it's the 'literal interpretation' thing that us ASD folk are supposed to be known for...

Also, technically numbers 4 and 5 fall into the same category as number 3, but whatever.  I COULD live without 4 and 5, but I don't want to! I basically have the maturity of a three year old. I want my cake/chocolate and I want it NOW.  

And as far as number 11 and 12 go, I am definitely inclined to be lazy and avoid those things.  But when I DO do them, I really do feel better. So they are staying on my list.  And that is final. 

Okay, I'm done here for now. 

What about you? 

What can't you live without? 


Monday, 3 July 2017

Taking Stock - July Edition



Making: A mess. I'm so skilled at this. It's a gift, I tell you! 

Cooking: My signature dish. It's called: Whatever's In The Fridge. Or my other gourmet creation, imaginatively titled: Eat It And Shut Up. 

Drinking: Waaaaaaaay too much tea. A little coffee and wine. And some water. Boiled, with a teabag and a dash of skim milk added... Okay, more tea. What can I tell you. It's a terrible addiction. 

Reading: I just finished reading a so-called romantic suspense novel. It was shit. Is it just me or does there seem to be this cliche in thrillers where the killer always turns out to be the 'quiet/shy/introvert/awkward type? Shits me to tears. Most of us quiet folk can't handle any confrontation or raise our voices let alone kill some one. Lift your game, thriller authors!  

Trawling: Drawers and washing baskets looking for that most elusive of things known to humankind: matching socks. WHERE do all the odd socks go? Related: my feet are FREEZING. 

Wanting: A cure for cancer. Also; anxiety. A magic diet pill, a jumbo sized bottle of wine with a funnel, warm feet (see above), a good lie down, a kick up the bum and approximately seven million dollars in crisp one hundred dollar bills. Not to much to ask, is it? 

Looking: For inventive ways to stay warm. And sane. Any suggestions?

Deciding: Whether to have yet another cup of tea. Pfffft. The decision (meaning the actual cup of tea...) was already made. 

Wishing: That all the good and groovy folk didn't have to suffer while ass holes walk around unscathed.

Enjoying: Reading, cups of tea, cuddles with Mr 8, snuggling in bed with the electric blanket on a frosty winter's evening. You know, all the simple little pleasures in life.

Waiting: Tragically, I am often waiting for pesky old anxiety to pass. But it ALWAYS does. That is the key thing to remember. 

Liking: The fact that I seem to be getting into regular exercise again... But I'm almost too scared to say it, because every time I publicly announce these things I fail spectacularly. So I had better shut up.  Shhhhh, don't tell anyone! 

Wondering: Why it is so incredibly difficult for me to warm my feet in winter. Everyone always tells me it's 'easy' to get warm in winter. Meanwhile, my feet are blocks of ice.  With thick socks and ugg boots on sitting in front of a heater. Gah.

Loving: That's it's school holidays. Sleep-ins FTW! I'm sure this will change very quickly by the week's end.

Pondering: This and that. 

Listening: To the hum of the heater and a car in the distance.

Considering: Things that I am not going to announce here because... Well, see: Liking. Nuff said. 

Buying: Lots of groceries and food. Does winter make everyone want to eat and eat and EAT ALL THE HOT FOOD? Yep, me too. Same as every other season, really. 

Watching: I began watching reruns of Mad About You, just for something mindless to do while I'm folding washing. Anyway, there was episode the other day when it was NYE in 1996. And I suddenly realised, that is TWENTY-ONE years ago! Jebeez, I feel ancient. 

Hoping: That my upcoming mammogram in August will be all clear again for the second year. Fingers, toes, legs, arms, eyeballs crossed! 

Marvelling: At how time flies, and at my beautiful family.

Cringing: At the thought of having my tits crushed again. I can deal with the pain, but waiting for the results is very anxiety-provoking. 

Needing: See: Wanting. They're not just wants, they're NEEDS, I tell you!


Questioning: Life, The Universe and Everything. Also; what can I eat next?

Smelling:  My dinner. Pie, mash and peas. Total comfort food. I don't even care. It was GOOD. 


Wearing: I am certainly NOT wearing my pyjamas. Nope. No way. Oh shut up, it's COLD! 

Noticing: That my unpleasant little 'friend' (aka anxiety) has snuck up on me again. 

Knowing: The unpleasant 'friend' will be shown the door very soon. 

Thinking: About what book to read next.

Admiring: Anyone who is battling anxiety. You're a bloody legend. 





Getting: Cold. Fat. Old. I won't be cold forever, though. Shame about the other two...


Bookmarking: Nothing!

Disliking: That all the good and groovy people suffer. See:Wishing

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

Closing: Drawers and cupboards so I can't see the mess and my epic failure to embrace the Konmari method. 


Feeling: At the moment, I feel kinda neutral and even. I like that. Wish I could bottle certain feelings and banish others for good. 

Hearing: Hang on, didn't I already answer this?

Celebrating: We have several birthdays coming up. Mr 15 becomes Mr 16 (yikes!) in 7 days, then it's my Mum's birthday on the 26th. And in August, it's Mickey Blue Eyes's turn. Yay! CAKE! 


Pretending: That I'm a mature, sensible adult. Yeah, nobody's fooled, least of all me. 

Embracing: Electric blankets, track suit pants and fleecy pyjamas as day wear. I have drawn the line at wearing them to go shopping, though it's tempting... Especially because nothing much fits me right now. Oops. 


Done! That's my stock-taking for the month of July!


What are you celebrating in the month of July? 

Monday, 19 June 2017

My First Concert

There have been many times in my life when I have wondered wistfully why I was born in 1971. This meant that only a year later in 1972, I was one year old. Yep, I'm a genius, but we already knew that. You see, 1972 was the one and only time that the Carpenters visited and performed in Australia. Sigh.

I would have LOVED to have been there right in the middle of the mosh pit! Oh okay, there was no mosh pit. I suspect they're overrated anyway. Who wants to waste time with all that when they could have been transfixed by every note and Karen Carpenter behind her drums?

Apparently their concert was broadcast on Channel 7. The black and white footage is floating around on Youtube, so at least there's that.

When ABBA mania hit Australia in 1977, I seemed to be oblivious. This was In spite of my enthusiastic singing into a hair brush pretending to be Agnetha, just like every other six year old Aussie girl. So I never got to see the fab four either. In fact, I don't distinctly remember what my first concert was. I'm a tragic person. 



The luckiest little fan wasn't me.  Sigh. 




My auntie took me to see the stage musical CATS when I was approximately 14 or so, but that's a little different I guess. Around that same time, I was utterly DEVASTATED because The Nolans (in the mood for dancing, anyone?) were performing at Rooty Hill RSL (classy!) and I couldn't go because I was underage. Cutting edge taste in music all the way, as you can see. Of course it's a mystery why, being such a cutting edge rebel and all that, I didn't just sneak out and fake my age to get in. I'm such an enigma.

Ultimately I ended up seeing the following musicals/shows:


  • CATS
  • Anything Goes
  • The Rocky Horror Show
  • Phantom Of The Opera
  • Les Miserables
  • Rasputin
  • Carousel 
My memory is bit patchy about most of the above, to be honest. I mean, it's hard to remember yesterday let alone thirty years ago. Or is that just me?

Additionally I attended the following concerts:

  • Simply Red
  • INXS
  • Midnight Oil
  • Gloria Estefan
  • Michael Buble
  • Barbra Streisand
And a few other Aussie groups...

I suspect that Simply Red was the first one and I ended up seeing them twice, so I guess I like them. I haven't listened to them in YEARS though. Weird. 

Something that strikes me is the price of concert tickets. I often see some lucky Carpenters fans sharing their vintage concert tickets in Facebook fan groups. The prices on them are so ridiculously cheap. Around five bucks fifty or something. Nowadays they're so frightfully expensive. Oh well, just as well I'm not really into mosh pits and the whole scene.

To be perfectly honest I wouldn't say that a typical rock concert is really my thing. Surprising, right? Shut up.  I don't do well with loud noise and crowds due to my sensory issues. However, I would have loved to hear Karen Carpenter's voice in person. And that will never happen. It will be one of my lifelong sorrows. Cue weepy violin music... Or mournful meandering oboes because that's a Carpenters trademark. I love it. Again, I reiterate - shut up. 





So excuse me while I go and watch the above Youtube video and pretend it's 1972.  Is there a problem with that? 

What was your first concert? 

Monday, 22 May 2017

How I Learn Best

Good morning, dear people! Today I will be talking about learning. Pacifically, how I learn best. Except I meant 'specifically'. I have learnt that much. I'm so funny!  Humorous type funny. Also, you know, funny...

Anyway, onto the learning thing. Should be a short post. Related: I never learn. Just kidding. I do. Sort of Well, sometimes. For example, the specifically vs pacifically thing. However, I'm asking
the intriguing question: how do I learn best? 

This is because it's today's prompt for  Life This Week. If it were up to me I'm more likely to ask the question: can today be cancelled so we can all go back to bed? No? HMPH. 

I had to think about this, because to be honest I'm not really sure how I learn best. Most likely through reading. But how did I learn to read? 


I was always a  patchy learner. This is due to the fact that I hyper focus on things that interest me and completely tune out if they don't. I'm weird. 

Additionally, I could still manage to bomb in exams. Even in subjects that interest me. It's a gift, people! Apparently, many autistic people are visual thinkers, but I tend to think mostly in language. Maybe a bit of both. 

Unfortunately, I often tuned out when I was at school and missed entire lessons. There was also those occasions when I read a sneaky book under the desk, but we won't talk about that... I can't focus or concentrate for long periods, or focus on more than one thing at a time. 

If I'm given verbal instructions I forget, so having stuff written down or reading something works best for me. My mum taught me to read by sounding the words out. (which answers my earlier question...). I seemed to be a natural reader and speller. When it came to other subjects like maths and science I just tuned out. I simply didn't care. Who knows what goes on in this brain of mine. It's a vacuum up there. 





These days I'm not involved in any sort of formal learning and I have to admit I struggle big time to be of assistance with my kids homework or assessment tasks. It's very embarrassing and disconcerting.

Occasionally, I have these awful dreams where I'm back at school and/or having to do exams. I always wake up in a panic. I guess the academic world wasn't meant for me. Also, I always knew emphatically that I could never be a teacher. I admire and respect people who are because it's beyond my capabilities. 


Thinking about it, I have come to the conclusion that I'm mostly a slow learner. It's always taken me longer than others to do certain things, such as learning to drive. I was never the type of a person who could pick things up easily and bluff my way through assignments or exams. I had a friend at school who could do that. She would put in minimal effort, often not even turning up for most of the school year and then still come dux almost every year. It was really quite extraordinary. 

Of course I do love to read. So I guess reading is my preferred way of learning. Besides, what I lack in academic ability I make up for by being stupendously GORGEOUS. 




Um, I just compared myself to a dog... But luckily dogs are awesome. All good! 

What about you?

How do you learn best? 

Are you really, really, ridiculously good looking? 

Monday, 15 May 2017

Do You Eat Your Feelings?

Hello there, strangers! Yes, it's little 'ole me, back to entertain you after a bit of a break that went on longer than the school holidays. But you get that. Things to do. Places to go. People to see. That sort of thing. Except there wasn't. Unless my family, grocery shopping and scrolling mindlessly through Facebook count. See? I told you. All such important things. Yes, indeed. Such a fascinating and action-packed life I lead.

Anyway, I lied. I'm not so little. Oops. This is likely due to the fact that, in addition to all of the above, I have also been busily eating all of my  feelings. Every single one of them. They all taste suspiciously like cakies. Sadness = cakies.  Happiness = cakies. Boredom = cakies. Joy = cakies. Stressed? Eat a cakie. Relaxing? Best way to do so is with enough sugary carbs to induce a diabetic coma... You get the picture. 

Which segues neatly to this week's Life This Week prompt:

My favourite junk food. 

I bet you can't guess. Drum roll, please...

Chocolate!

Haha! Tricked you! 

Chocolate AND cake. What a surprise. With an honourable mention of hot chips. Because who doesn 't love hot chips with chicken salt and/or gravy? Shut up, all you low carb/no carb fanatics. No one wants to hear about it. Just go and eat your salad and be sad. Or smug and energetic and glowing. I'm not jealous AT ALL.


Image credit:https://www.facebook.com/ithinkmymomsgonecrazy/?pnref=story


Yep, basically I am addicted to sugar and all carbs. 

Needless to say, my trysts with the dietition are going splendidly well. Using 'splendidly well' in the sense of  are a complete and utter charade.

At my last visit I had managed to lose a whopping one kilo, but heavens knows how many more I have since put on. Sigh.

Don't you just hate people who whinge about being fat while they shovel anything that isn't nailed down into their gobs? Just quietly, people who whinge about being fat while being nothing of the kind are worse. This was also me some years ago. DOH.

It occurs to me that I never had significant issues with food when I when I was younger. Especially when I was still living with my parents. However, these days I am the person who is primarily responsible for everything food related. I have to do the grocery shopping, cook the meals and feed a family. 

This means that it often feels like all I ever think about is food. I don't find this very helpful. It appears that I have no impulse control when it comes to my eating habits. Additionally, I am now the mother of teenage boys. They constantly eat. They also never put on weight. I seem to have some sort of delusion that I'm also a gangly teenage boy, instead of an overweight middle aged woman. 

Yeah, I know. I need a gigantic kick up the you know what. It's quite obvious from what I have told you that I am the one who buys or bakes the cakies (except when my mum does...),  and I don't want to confront my addiction. I'd rather act like a petulant three year old, sulking in the corner because she can't have cake for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And snacks...

Plus, most of the stuff that I like to do, such as reading or writing, is quite sedentary. Why couldn't I have been one of these sporty types? 

Oh, well. Enough of my whinging. I'll plod back to the dietitian and see what happens. She also suggested counselling and I was a bit meh about it. I've been backwards and forwards to shrinks and counselors for years and then basically had to figure out I'm autistic myself! But maybe it's not such a bad idea.

It's either that or wiring my jaw shut. Too extreme? 


Of course I could decide to hell with it, who cares what size I am. I certainly could not care less about anyone else's weight or size, so why torture myself? The thing is, though, I've had breast cancer, am on medication for high cholesterol and have a family history of type 2 diabetes. Therefore, keeping my weight within a reasonable range is actually rather important. DAMMIT. 

So I guess my food/weight issues are not going anywhere... Well, except for my waist, thighs etc... Eventually I may have the maturity and emotional intelligence to realise that I can just FEEL my feelings and leave the cakies the hell out of it. Hopefully before I'm around 75 years old and morbidly obese.  More sighs.

But I suspect cakies will always remain my favourite junk food.

What's yours? 


Are you an emotional eater? 

Linking up for Life This Week. 

Monday, 27 March 2017

Three Month Review

Welcome to yet another Monday! Isn't 2017 just FLYING BY?! It's almost April! This seems like the perfect time to have a three month review.

Drum roll, please...

Here we go.

JANUARY

We start the year off fiiiiiine....

No wait. That's a Neil Sedaka song. I can't even remember how we started the year. Um. I think we stayed up until midnight on NYE (we like to be divergent), heard some fireworks and went to bed.

Two weeks later, I turned 46. Prior to this,  I enjoyed a girl's day out to the central coast with a few friends, to celebrate my friend Kimmy's birthday.

I chose my one word for the year. MOVE. I am happy to report that is working out quite well. The fact that the movement is at a glacial pace is COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT.

Meanwhile, the persiflage is firing away rapidly. Panglossian is making a guest appearance, in a somewhat redolant fashion. I must hasten to fix this transgression forthwith. It would appear that I have recently watched a Bronte sisters biopic called To Walk Invisible, as well as too many episodes of Downton Abbey. Yet, this cannot be so. It is entirely impossible to do such a thing. In fact, quite the opposite. You can NEVER watch too much Downton Abbey. Absurd!

During the month of January I also shared some thoughts about routines. The following conclusion was reached: I am really quite awful at them. Sigh.


FEBRUARY

This is the month after January and before March. I expect this will be thrilling and startling information. By now, school had resumed. Mr 13 began high school, where he is settling in nicely. Suddenly, Valentine's Day was upon us. But I didn't care because Valentine's Day is bullshit. And so are Mills & Boon romances according to my former high school English teacher. I told you all about it here.

Meanwhile, my gluttony continued unabated. Look, I'm not proud of myself, but it's the truth. Eventually I made the herculean effort to drag my hefty frame back to the dietitian, whereupon she weighed me. Aghast, I stared at the number on the scales. It was at that defining moment that I realised this: it's only a number, albeit a distressing one. This only reinforces my word. Also: enough with the gluttony. After just one more slice of cake....

What else can I tell you about  February? I know! It is also the month that I spelled wrong for a number of years. Damn that second 'r'!  During this fanciful month, I wrote a letter to a kindred spirit before pausing to take stock.

The shortest month of the year was over before I knew it.  This brings us to...


MARCH

There were a couple of notable happenings during this illustrious month.

Firstly, I had a follow up appointment with my radiation oncologist. Everything was good and he now doesn't need to see me again. I will continue to see my surgeon every year for the first five years, after which, I can go back to just seeing my GP. Mammograms are recommended to continue yearly forever, though, instead of every two years. This will happen again in August, and my surgeon appointment is in early September.

In other March madness, Mr 12 became Mr 13! My  boys are growing up!

Over the weekend I attended an old school chum's birthday bash, where we were served cocktails by a butler in the buff. I didn't even make that up. I really was there with my resting bitch face on. In my usual fashion, I also forgot to take photos and managed to dodge most of the others' photos. Ninja-like introvert talents FTW!

It also came to my attention that this March marks the fifth birthday of this humble space thatI like to call Nessville! Happy birthday to me! Um, I mean... MY blog. About ME.  So I get the cake. NER!

So endeth my three month review.

I think I will give myself an A plus. Because I CAN.

What about you? How would you review your first three months of 2017?  Have they been A plus? Please share!  

Monday, 13 March 2017

True Colours

Some people love all the colours of the rainbow, but only if they are strictly in rainbow order (you know who you are).  Others favour vivid, intense colours. Bright reds and purples. I think I'm an Earthy girl. Or, you know, boring...

I seem to be drawn to subtle shades of mint or sage green. Teals and olives. 

I've always thought of myself as not being much of a pink person, which is funny because I'm a breast cancer survivor.  However, I guess I did have a sort of pink, girly bedroom as a child/teen. Well, actually it was more of a soft peachy apricot with pink undertones. But this was the 80s, so it could have been worse. I could have had hideous floral wallpaper... Oh wait... I did at one stage. 

Anyway, after doing some lazy googling comprehensive research about my colour preference I have discovered this:

There is a good deal of nonsense on the internet. Who knew? 


Related: I found  this website.

In summary, supposedly people who favour green are natural among groups, love to join in and always know what to say and do...

Um. No. No, I don't.

Also; this: 

Having a personality color green means you are strong-willed and do not like to be told what to do by others. You do like to win arguments and do not concede defeat easily.

Bwahahahahahahahahahahaha! NO. 

I avoid arguments and confrontations like hipsters avoid gluten.  

 But then, this:

With a personality color green you are not a risk-taker and not action orientated, rather more of an observer. You love to sit in a café and watch the world go by.

Well, okay. Yes. Fair call. Except I like to sit in a cafe eating cake. Get it right, Internet! 

Then this site goes on to explain that if you DISLIKE green, you:


  • Are not a social joiner.



  • Are not particularly interested in nature.



  • Are a loner, preferring solitude to crowds. 


Overall this sounds MUCH more like me. Crazy old Internet. And Google is supposed to know everything! 

Personally, I think I am just a mummy's girl and my mum's preference has always been for greens. But I also like blues. Especially teals and blue greens. Just to mix it up a bit.  

Mr 8 is a funny old thing when it comes to colours. He frequently quizzes me about his favourites. For a long time it was red. Now he's progressed to purple. The brighter the better for this boy. 

When it comes to clothing, I'm the opposite to Mr 8. I  prefer to wear basic black. Having said that, a quick rummage in my wardrobe reveals that the majority of my rags pieces ARE black, but there is also a fair amount of red. Because red goes with black. Duh.  And even though I'm not really interested in soccer, the rest of my family support the Western Sydney Wanderers, so at least I'm showing some sort of solidarity by wearing their colours.  




Over the years I've discovered that pale colours do not suit me. I am originally a natural redhead with fair skin, so I look washed out in pastels. Black and brighter colours are the go. Greens do suit me, because I have green eyes. Fascinating information, I am sure. 


Anyway, according to the above website, if you favour black it means (among other things):

You may appear intimidating to even your closest colleagues and friends, with an authoritarian, demanding and dictatorial attitude.


*SNORTS* 

Yeah, nah. I don't think I'm intimidating to anyone, even the dog. Or an ant. Or a shadow...

But I have been known to do this:






Now, if you'll excuse me, there are some piles of black clothing that need putting away.

What are your favourite colours? 

What do you think they say about you?