Monday, 27 June 2016

One thing I wish I did differently

There was a time when I wished I did absolutely everything differently. Every single personality trait I have, I wished was the opposite.

Everything I wished was different

I'm quiet - I wished I was... not loud exactly, but bubbly and articulate.
I'm an introvert - I wished I was an extrovert. 
I'm shy- I wished I was outgoing, fearless and confident.
I'm scatter-brained and disorganised - I wished I was focused and efficient.
I'm a drifter and daydreamer - I wished I was driven and disciplined.
I'm nonathletic and uncoordinated - I wished I was sporty. 
I'm a night owl - I wished I was a morning person.

Blah blah blah.

Luckily, I don't have any gender confusion. I don't wish I was a man. Except for rare moments in grotty public toilets when the ability to be able to pee standing up would be an asset. But I digress.

Have I come to terms with all of the above?

I would like to be able to say that I've triumphed over all of the above and am blissfully happy and contented with my quiet, scatter-brained, nonathletic, night-owl self. But I can't. Well, to be honest, being quiet and introverted doesn't bother me as much as it used to, (although it often continues to bother others). However, I still find myself wishing I was much more organised, driven and disciplined. 

I guess it's because I'd like to be able to have something to point to in self-defence. People may like to point out that I'm quiet, but then I'd like to be able say "Well yes, I am, but on the other hand I'm really efficient and organised."

Um, no. No, I'm not. And it kind of irks me, to be honest. I get all whiny and pouty and pissed off like a three year old being denied cake. Or a 45 year old. Details. Shut up.

 If I'm going to struggle in one area, why can't I have another that is a strength? Nope. Lucky me, I get to struggle with social skills and executive functioning.

Always be yourself

And to make matters worse, it's not like my Aspie brain decided to fixate on a really helpful special interest like say, math or, I dunno, gardening or something. My mind decides to fixate on Karen Carpenter. I can remember every little tiny detail I've read or heard about her career and life both good and bad, yet I can't remember where I put my glasses five minutes ago or which school notes are due or what day it is. It's probably Monday if I've posted this. Is it Monday?

The only thing this (my Karen Carpenter obsession) is useful for is time-wasting and making people look at you like you have two heads. Winning! 

That's why expressions like 'be yourself' and 'feeling comfortable in your own skin' annoy me. 

It seems like when advice like the former is doled out it really means: be yourself, but only if you're an outgoing, type A, driven extrovert. 

And I don't know if I'll ever be truly one hundred percent comfortable in my own skin at all times. Maybe accepting that I'm always going to be just a tiny bit awkward is as good as it gets. In this way perhaps I'll worry about it less. I can already see this working. I know I'm always the most quiet person in any given situation, but I can still show up and sit there with my resting bitch face on. It's all good. 

The ONE thing I wish I did differently

Of course I'm just over thinking. As usual. 

So I guess if I was going to pinpoint one thing that I wish I did differently it would be that. I wish I didn't over think about stuff. Especially all of the above. After all, people still genuinely like me the way I am. Some of them even love me and would lose a kidney for me if necessary. And they feel this way without me changing a thing. They like quiet, scatter-brained me, complete with a cake and Karen Carpenter obsession. Well, I'm sure Mickey Blue Eyes wishes I'd get over it at times, but I wish he'd get over his soccer obsession, so we're even. 

And some people will simply never like you even if you gave them a Ferrari, and that's OK. Being liked by everyone sounds exhausting to an introvert like me! 

I suppose I could try an experiment George Costanza style and do the opposite of every instinct I have for a day or two to see how it goes? But then I'd have to not eat cakies. Bugger that!

Yep, it's definitely time to stop over thinking. Now if only I could stop over thinking about over thinking....

I'll have to think about that...

Linking up for I Must Confess.

Linking up again for Friday Reflections.

What's the one thing you wish you did differently?

Monday, 20 June 2016

I freak out when...

Hello dear people. Today I am going to tell you what really, completely and totally freaks me the fuck out. It's freaky.

Here goes: 

I freak out when I see a cockroach. Unfortunately I have passed this trait on to my boys. Mickey Blue Eyes reckons I could be hired for sound effects in horror films. All they would have to do is put a cockroach in front of me. I emit the most blood-curdling, chilling scream of sheer horror. It is rather impressive for some one who is normally so quiet.

I freak out when I get dizzy.  This is a massive phobia for me. Weird. I guess it probably has a name.

I googled it. 

Apparently it is called  Dinophobia.

It all started 22 years ago when I jumped up quickly out of a chair when I was freaking out from seeing something on the telly that made me squeamish. (Yes, blood and guts and all that freaks me out, too!). I had a massive panic attack, hyperventilated and passed out. At the time I didn't actually identify it as a panic attack, because I'd never had one before.

I'm not sure if it was ongoing anxiety from that experience or the result of hitting my head when I passed out, but I then experienced frequent attacks of vertigo. It still freaks me out so much that I won't talk about it too much here. 

I don't understand how people enjoy going on amusement park rides and making themselves dizzy.  They are demented. I am not. The end. 

This phobia has changed who I am. I guess you could say that I've always been the scaredy cat person who was afraid of anything that threatened my equilibrium. 

As a child I was terrified of both escalators and elevators. To be honest it was never a claustrophobia thing, I just didn't like the sensation of movement. The feeling of the ground dropping and moving under you. It  totally freaked me out. I often avoided lifts. 

I also feared being on a boat or ferry because I didn't like the rocking sensation. Are you seeing a pattern here? I'm a 'two feet firmly on the ground' kind of girl. 

I can remember being terrified on a merry-go-round. Yes, I was a fun child. My brother and I often went to a park around the corner from my aunt's house. It had one of those rides that spin around. My brother LOVED it and I HATED it. 

"Scary-go-round" is a very apt name for this, if you ask me

So it's comforting to know that I haven't matured beyond the age of eight. Nice. I would still be terrified to spin around on those things. 

Next month we're headed to the Gold Coast. You won't see me on any rides at the theme parks. I'll happily mind the bags and jackets while Mickey Blue Eyes takes the boys on rides. I might even take a book. That's my kind of thrill seeking. Shut up.

I have to also confess that I freak out quite a bit every time I think about my breast cancer 'journey'/diagnonsense, which is often. It's the first thing I think about every morning, and the last thing I think about at night.

I am totally freaked out by the realisation that it was just random 'luck' that it was discovered and diagnosed when it was. It could have been so much worse. All I did was decide to go to the doctor for my pap smear. I didn't even receive a reminder for it like I normally would. Somehow I just had it in the back of my mind that it was due. I also knew I had to have some routine blood tests done. However, my GP had said to me mid last year that I could have left it until January if I wanted to. Between her saying that, and not receiving a pap smear reminder, I could easily have said to myself "Stuff it, I'll wait until January", but I didn't. THANK GOD I DIDN'T. I would have been so screwed.

As much as I wish the whole thing hadn't happened at all, it did. And my doctors say it was an early cancer. I wish I didn't have cancer at all, but at least I was 'lucky' that it was found relatively early. It's still a freaky feeling to think too much about the future and what may happen. Mickey Blue Eyes assures me that this is something that takes time. It took him a good few years to get past this fear. (He had bowel cancer in 2004). I guess it will always freak me out a little. But I'm learning that you live with uncomfortable feelings. I don't have to like them, but I can make room for them.

Speaking of freaking out, is everyone else quietly alarmed by how fast the year is flying by? It's almost the end of June and term two! Cue all the Facebook posts counting down the days until Christmas. Please don't tell me exactly how many days it is. I don't want to know. I'm freaking out. 

Well, that's enough freakyness from me. Now I'm freaked out because I don't know how to spell 'freakyness'. Is it freakiness or freakyness? Is it even a word? Who knows? 

I need it a cup of tea and a good lie down after all this freaking out. Later, people!  

Linking up for I Must Confess

Linking up again for  Friday Reflections

What is your weirdest phobia? 

Tuesday, 14 June 2016

My whole life is a domestic disaster

A peculiar sensation has come over me. I wonder what it is? Something so unfamiliar I cannot define it. I have to think about it before it unfolds in my mind. Yes, that's it. I'm smug.

I ticked off a list. That is HUGE. For me. I'm scatterbrained.

It seems to be a curious dichotomy about me that I crave order and routine, but am thoroughly inept and incompetent at actually creating at. Weird. 

I needn't have been so smug. Predictably my foray into organisation didn't last. And even when I have ticked these lists there is no discernible evidence of activity in my surroundings. My home still looks haphazard and sloppy. Sigh. 

This week I've looked into various organisational apps including  FlyLady, Habitica. Evernote and Todoist.

I was determined that the time had come when I would finally morph into a Domestic Goddess. With a capital D and a capital G.

Or maybe not. But that's okay, because what I lack in housekeeping skills I more than make up for in poetry writing skills. Yep, I'm poetic GENIUS. 

Here's proof: 

I need to have a schedule, a rythym, a routine
Make my home a sanctuary, immaculate, pristine

After all, I hear you say, you don't have an office job
You've no excuse for being such a lackadaisical slob

But, I reply, my house is frightfully pokey and tiny!
I glower and pout, all whingey and whiney

Before you judge me, why don't you do the math?
Don't patronise me with your presumptuous wrath

Residents total five, but rooms only seven
Hardly anyone's idea of domestic heaven

We live here in CHAOS*, clutter, confusion
Where 'Better Homes & Gardens' is just an illusion

And yes, I really must confess, it does cause stress
To live in pandemonium, such a muddled-up mess

But it seems that I'm a freak without the neat part
I want to clean it up, but don't know where to start

It's simple, you say, you have to make a list
Then tick it off, forget your daily Facebook tryst

Dutifully I write it down, commence the first task
It's tedious, time-consuming, school hours fly by fast

When the day is done there seems to be no reward
I'm grumpy, dissatisfied and frankly terminally bored

Snap out of it, you say, don't get into a tizzy
A dedicated Domestic Goddess must always keep busy

With my tears of anguish I slowly wash the dishes
The suds go down the sink along with all my wishes

Wishes for a gleaming home, all shiny and new
Lots of lovely, pretty things, a dishwasher too

Look, you say, all you need is a trip to Ikea

This is as appealing to me as explosive diarrhoea

But there's no time to waste, I have to cook dinner
Now's my chance to prove that I'm a culinary winner!

When I look inside the fridge my expression turns wary
Judging from it's contents I expect the dinner Fairy

Tsk, tsk, you admonish, don't you understand?
You should always have this sorted, make a meal plan!

Then get your children involved, everyone must help!
My kitchen is as big as a postage-stamp, I holler and yelp 

Ignoring your disdain, I defiantly order take-away
Getting out of bed was my biggest mistake today

Sure, I could have put some soup on and left it to simmer
But the chance of it being  eaten? Not even a glimmer! 

I should have tried harder, worked longer and faster
It seems MY WHOLE LIFE is a domestic disaster! 

Before long it's time to go bed and admit defeat
So I can get up and do all again. Rinse. Repeat. 

It's something that is terribly difficult to explain
It's not my fault that I have a typical Aspie brain

I struggle with something called executive function
Forgetting absolutely everything expect to have my luncheon

Now I sit here still feeling dejected and forlorn
I want a clean house, but I'm constantly torn

Somehow I never achieve anything no matter how I slog
For now I say forget it, I'd much rather write this blog! 

You're welcome. 

*CHAOS = Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome

Side note: as I'm about to hit publish on this post, my house is actually surprisingly tidy (for me). So I've got about a half hour window for anyone to drop in right now. Oh wait. It's school pick up time. The boys will be home shortly. CHAOS again! Oh well, I tried! 

Linking up (late!) for I Must Confess

What is your biggest domestic disaster?

Monday, 6 June 2016

The One Where I Wonder About Winter

I Must Confess I am definitely NOT a winter person. I'm not a summer person either. I'm an in between kind of person. I don't tolerate the cold or the heat. 

I guess I'm Goldilocks when it comes to weather: I want it to be juuust right. The autumn weather was perfect. Gorgeous and sunny through the day, crisp and cool at night without being freezing. 

People always claim that it's 'easy' to warm up in winter, but impossible to cool down in summer. I have never personally found this to be true. My feet and/or hands are permanent blocks of ice during winter. So I'm one of those helpful people who constantly whinges about the weather for at least half the year. You're welcome.

While we're speaking about all things winter, here's another confession: I've never seen snow. 

That's right, I'm 45 and I've never seen snow. It just doesn't snow in Sydney. And I've never been anywhere where it does. I suspect I would not tolerate that sort of weather at all. The idea of being beside a fire with snow falling outside does seem romantic and fanciful, but the reality might be a tad different. There is probably a lot of shoveling involved. I am not good with shovels. Plus you have to put chains on your car tyres or something. It would be TERRIFYING for me to drive in snow.

You'd probably have to invest in thermal underwear. As it is I already wear several layers. I don't need more. When I was young I used to wear a singlet, a spencer (remember those?) and a skivvy with a jumper over the top. I have no idea why I'm telling you that. It was just a random memory. 

I guess there are good things and bad things about all the seasons. Besides, there's not much point complaining about something you can't control anyway. Doesn't seem to stop me, however.

Here's a handy little list I compiled for no other reason but to amuse myself and bore entertain you: 


  • I seem to have become a hat and scarf person. Well, I have dyke short hair at the moment (not that there's anything wrong with that, as the saying goes), so my noggin gets a bit cold. Beanies are my friend.  I look fabulous in them! Or something. Meh, they're warm, anyway. Shut up. 

  • It's much easier to exercise when it's not stinking hot and humid and you're already dripping with sweat before you begin. In fact, a bit of movement is necessary to warm up. That can't be a bad thing. Especially considering my next point...

  • Comfort eating/food. I always want hot food in Winter. Which can be a good thing if you're an excellent cook. If you're a bit dodgy like me, you end up making a pot of soup that tastes like arse. Consequently you end up eating everything else except the nourishing soup you intended to have. Side note: I know what you're thinking. How do I know what arse tastes like? It's what I imagine arse could taste like. It tasted very, very bad is what I'm getting at. 

  • But never mind the terrible arse-tasting soup, because winter is a peak time for birthdays in my family. First Mr 14 becomes Mr 15 next month. CAKE! Then my mum turns 75! MORE CAKE! Then Mickey Blue Eyes turns 53! EVEN MORE CAKE!!! ALL. THE. CAKE!!!! To prevent the afore-mentioned cake from being arse-tasting, it will all be store bought. I think this is a wise move. 

  • You HAVE TO drink some wine or scotch in order to warm up. Medicinal purposes only, people. I am forced to do this. I suffer through it like the trouper I am. Shut up. 


  • Getting out of bed.
  • Cold feet and hands.
  • Getting colds, especially the dreaded 'Man Flu'.
  • The after effects of all the comfort eating.
  • I drink so much tea that I need to pee all the time.
  • The only places I can get warm are in bed (and sometimes not even there), in the shower and sometimes in the car in the middle of the day. This makes it frightfully difficult to get anything done.
  • It's harder to get all the washing dry. 
  • When you run out of  your medicinal wine or scotch and it's too cold and wet to be bothered going out to get some more. 

End of lists. 

We have had some frightfully wet and dismal weather here over the weekend, but in the end I didn't mind because rainy days mean I can curl up with a book. I might be becoming a winter person after all... 

Who knew? 

Linking up for I Must Confess

Are you a winter person? 

Monday, 30 May 2016

Crazy Positive!!!!

I've never been one of those people who seems to spend an inordinate amount of time finding things to be outraged about. I guess I probably seem indifferent about a lot things. I must confess, I avoid watching the news. I don't get riled up about all manner of issues.

I've avoided rambling on too much here about my cancer 'journey'. I'm not really sure why. Probably a number of reasons. For one thing, my boys might read it. For another, even I don't want to think about cancer all the time, let alone some one else. 

But one of the things that drives me batty is people's insistence that you must be positive ALL THE TIME. 

It's obvious that I'm not a cheerful, upbeat, bubbly, person. Never have been, never will be. But I'd like to think I'm not the extreme opposite of that either. I'm not a draining, whinging, 'negative Nelly' or 'Debbie Downer'. I've made no secret of the fact that I struggle with anxiety. Despite my struggles, I still try to keep things light-hearted here, because this is my happy place and I want people to leave here with a smile. So I'm not totally negative.

But I don't understand how people think you can be positive all the time in the face of something as confronting as cancer. Sure, we've all met or heard of people who seem to be, but I'm certain even they have their dark moments. After all, we're all human and no one wants to be told that they or a loved one has cancer. 

However, in the spirit of keeping things light-hearted, I've decided that all those Positive Polly's just may be right. Positive Polly's as opposed to Negative Nelly's. They shall henceforth be referred to in this post as PP's in an effort to be succinct. And just because I'm juvenile and like to call some one a Pee Pee. *Sniggers*

Yes indeed folks, perhaps POSITIVITY is the answer to everything!!!!! I put it in capitals because all the PP's seem to be so ENTHUSIASTIC about it and pepper their conversations and Facebook updates with multiple exclamation points. I barely have the energy to type them, let alone infuse so much effervescence into any interaction. But not anymore!!!!!!!!

That's right people, you heard it here first!!! I'm going to give positivity a red hot go. WARNING; Many exclamation points ahead!!!! Proceed at your own peril!!!!

From now on everything is just FABULOUS, FANTASTIC, BRILLIANT and utterly WONDERFUL!!!!! You are what you think, after all. And I think I'm AWESOME!!!!

In fact, The Lego Movie got it right. EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!!!! Yes, even Lego! If it decorates the floor on a daily basis and I tread on it and suffer pain multiple times a day, then that's just a reminder of my beautiful children who are inspired to create things with the Lego. The fact that they mostly create a mess is COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT!!!

Isn't is just amazing to be alive? Another day has arrived, glistening with possibility. The autumn sun shines it's glorious warmth over my home. Previously I was never a morning person. But now that I'm so POSITIVE I simply cannot wait to get out of bed in the morning!!!!! Especially because my weekdays begin with that most THRILLING of tasks: packing school lunches!!! YAY!!!The only thing more fulfilling is throwing out the half eaten ones from the day before. Excellent!

Now I am joining the ranks of happy, shiny, people on social media posting endless updates about my fascinating and rewarding life. Hashtagblessed hashtaggrateful hashtaglifeisgood hashtagpositivitypowerof. Oops. Strike that, reverse it! Hashtagpowerofpositivity

Apparently if you smile even when you don't feel like it, you can trick yourself into being happy. Related: my jaw is aching. But I'm SO HAPPY!!!!! Yep. Delirious with joy, loving life, high on the pure wonder of being alive!!!! I don't sound ever so slightly unhinged, do I??? I didn't think so!!!!


I can't believe it has taken me so long to see the light!! Hang on, that deserved capitals. SEE. THE. LIGHT. I am well. I am joyous. I am safe in the World. Everything is working out for my highest good. Positive affirmations are my friend!!!!!  Let's totally ignore the fact that I repeated these statements to myself ad nauseum for months and years in the past and then shitty things happened anyway. 

Whatever I put out to the universe WILL come back to me. Which probably explains why all I ever wanted from the universe was copious cakie things and consequently I now have a spare tyre and a double chin. But that doesn't matter because I am perfect as I am! My body is unique, resplendent, a gift and good health is my divine right!!!! I know it!! 

No, I'm not having a nervous breakdown AT ALL. What are you talking about?????

You guyz!!! This positivity shiz is freaking DOPE. I can't imagine how I ever thought it was ANNOYING AF. What was I thinking?? Those days are over!!!!

Now that I'm so POSITIVE I can see that all the PP's were totally right: EVERYTHING DOES HAPPEN FOR A REASON!!!!!

I mean, I'm sure there's a reason why children get cancer and senseless things happen in the world on a daily basis, even if I haven't figured out what the reason is yet...

And I now know that breast cancer was the BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME because now I'm a changed woman!!!!

Previously pink made me puke, but now I have to constantly THINK PINK!!! Why not? Pink is good! Pink flowers, pink champagne, pink clothes, pink cupcakes, pink lipstick, PINK music, pink EVERYTHING!!!! In fact, why don't I just channel Barbara Cartland and make everything in my entire life pink???!!! Our house desperately needs a makeover.  I do live with a family of males, but it's time to dispense with gender stereotypes anyway! Pink it is! Even for the boys rooms! 

It's going to be SUBLIME! 

I need this bedroom! It's so pink and ME!!!

Tonight when I have to cook dinner in my teeny, tiny, postage-stamp sized kitchen, I will not let out a blood-curdling scream of frustration like I did the other night. No siree. I will be calm and centred and full of gratitude for my chops and veg. The lumps in my mashed potatoes will be lumps of fairy sunshine suffused with sheer delight. When my children reject this food, I will not feel peeved and put out. I will lovingly let them eat toast. Well, they haven't starved yet so it's all good, right?? It's better than good, it's BRILLIANT. 

OH EM GEE I am floating on air.  I'm not going to whinge and whine about the cold weather. The fact that people insist that it's 'easy' to get warm in winter (as opposed to cooling off in summer) while my feet are permanent blocks of ice, despite my rather fetching attire of trackies, a parka, beanie and uggs, doesn't bother me at all.  Noice. There is so much to look forward to: housework and supervising homework, and more housework and more supervising homework. I can now do it with this permanent cheesy grin fixed on my face. I don't look like a lunatic. Whatever gives you that idea? 




*Pauses for breath..* 

Good God, that was the longest five minutes of my life. Being positive is freaking EXHAUSTING. 

Now the only thing I'm positive about is that I need a good lie down.

But before I go, a question for all you PP's out there:

What drugs are you on and where do I get them? 

Linking up for I Must Confess.

What's the one thing that drives you crazy?

Monday, 23 May 2016

A Starfish Named Ness

I contemplated writing this post while drunk, just for something different, but it's only 10.30 on a Monday morning.  Oh wait...perfectly good excuse to drink! Especially when you wake up with a rotten cold, sore throat and headache. I couldn't feel any worse, could I?  Hmmm...on second thought, I'll stick to tea. 

I've never been much of a drinker, unless you count tea. And I do. It's totally addictive for me. Plus it leads to harder, more sinister addictions. It's serious, people. First it's an innocent cup of tea, then suddenly it's progressed to tea AND cake. Shocking. 

Anyway, what was the point of this post? Oh yes, I was going to entertain you with the scintillating details of the first and only time I got drunk.Yep, I'm SUCH a party animal. There was only once. I've been tipsy many times, but pissed? Not really. 

The thing is, I don't really enjoy that drunken feeling. I don't tolerate alcohol well. One or two drinks are OK. I feel relaxed and pleasant. However, if I make the mistake of pushing on to a third or fourth drink, it very quickly goes to my head. I detest that seasick, head-whirling sensation. Consequently I've never made a habit of getting drunk.

I've noticed that other people can drink and drink and drink AND DRINK and it seemingly doesn't effect them. No such luck for me. Sigh.

But let's get back to the story of the one and only time I was shit-faced slightly intoxicated.

Picture it. The Hunter Valley, 1992. A young 21 year old Ness with a poodle perm, wearing a body suit with high-waisted jeans. I went away for a Rotaract Wine Weekend. 

Those were 'the olden days', as my boys call them. There was no internet. You couldn't meet people through such classy things as Tinder, so you joined something like Rootaract instead. Oops, I mean Rotaract. And you joined because you really cared about making a difference through community service. Yep. Totally for that reason. If you also met people and made friends, that was just a bonus. Ahem. 

There was a bunch of us rotaractors who went away to this particular 'Wine Weekend', including Mickey Blue Eyes, but we weren't a couple at that point. (I think it was on this occasion, or one of the other wine weekends, when Mickey managed to be drunk the for the duration of the whole weekend while only drinking diet coke. A sign that we would make a groundbreaking, avant garde couple, if ever there was one).

Me circa early 1990s

But back to my being drunk story. My friend Kim and I took a peculiar liking to this vile, sickly sweet wine called Tyrrell's Blanquette. There is a photo floating around somewhere of the two of us proudly holding our packs of this beverage, but a) I would have to find it ; and b) Kim would probably kill me if I posted it here. So you are spared this vision. 

Such a shame, because if I recall things correctly, I had ditched the high-waisted jeans for this occasion. Instead I was wearing a most fetching headband and brown jumper combo with stirrup pants. Yep, I've always been a smoking hawt, cutting edge, fashion icon. Try not to be jealous.

The point is, we drank rather a lot of this wine and were quite merry. After a day spent wine tasting, we all arrived back at the Caravan park where we were staying.The drinking and merriment continued.Well, as merry as it gets for some one as quiet as me. Shut up.

Then, inevitably, we had to visit the bathroom. So myself, Kim and my other friend Pam, wandered off to the ladies toilets in the caravan park, giggling like the silly young things we were.
I managed to go to the loo without any incidents. Then, as I was waiting for Kimmy and Pammy, I suddenly decided it would be a tremendous idea to have a good lie down. Right there. In the public toilets. Of a grotty caravan park in the Hunter Valley.

So Kim and Pam emerged from the loo to behold me resplendent in a starfish position on the floor. Classy.

The next morning we were all a bit seedy. We trudged to the reception office where they had a shop to purchase paracetamol for our pounding heads.

"Not feeling too well, are we ladies?" The gentleman behind the counter asked dryly. There may have been some requests from other patrons to keep the noise down. Not that it was me making noise. Even alcohol doesn't make me 'come out of my shell'. But it does make me do starfish impersonations. I like to be different.We sheepishly mumbled something and slunk away with our drugs.

As the years ambled on, I looked back on this incident and kind of dismissed it with a "Wasn't I cute when I was a bit tipsy" thought. I considered that I'd never really been drunk in my whole life.

But then I thought about it some more. I do tend to overthink stupid, pointless things. Hang on a minute, I thought,  I did a starfish impersonation on a grotty public toilet floor. EW. Yep, I was certainly shit-faced.

So there you have it. The one and only time Nesski has ever been drunk. Unless you count  right now, because I just referred to myself in the third person, so clearly I'm drunk. And I lurrrve youse all! Thankshs for reading...!!!*hiccups*

Linking up for I Must Confess

When was the first time you were drunk?

Monday, 16 May 2016

Back Again Plus Letters To My Enemies

Hello there. Here I am. I expect this post will be a bit clunky and all over the place. I seem to have lost the ability to string a sentence together. Oh wait. I never really had that ability. I just ramble on. All good, then. 

I actually wrote a poem about my blogging 'journey'. Here it is:

Sometimes I wonder why I don't delete my blog
When updating it seems such a pointless old slog
At first I enjoyed it and had so much fun
I just couldn't wait to get another post done

Did I care about followers or stats? Not a bit!
I just wanted to share my thoughts and my wit
I tried to be humorous, entertaining, sincere
I didn't know anything about the wide blogosphere

I was bamboozled by something called Twitter
But still I decided I wasn't a blog quitter
I started joining blog link-ups tentatively
Reading all the other blogs unrepentantly

There were blogs that were sarcastic, sassy and smart
While others were useful or straight from the heart
Suddenly my boring old blog seemed stale and trite
I didn't know how to improve it, try as I might

My enthusiasm for blogging would wax and wane
I'd take bloggy breaks and come back again
My blog is all over the place, totally ad hoc
And sometimes I think it's an absolute croc

But I aim it towards my family and friends
Not for countless clicks or the current blog trends
I treat it as if I am writing a friend a letter
Look, I know it's lame and others do better

Then someone will say: but it shows who you are
And I don't want to be a big blogging star
I'm a quiet person in real life and online
For me I think this is perfectly fine

I just wanted a hobby and creative expression
And sometimes to share a candid confession
To do this, I link-up for I must confess
Whenever I want to, so there's no stress

Then sometimes life and all it's stuff will intrude
I abandon my blog, I'm not in the mood
As a child I was told I had a writing gift
But I tend to procrastinate, to daydream and drift

Whenever I do write I seem to feel better
Even if it's just an online journal 'letter'
So here I am sitting scribbling away

And I will be back with my blog any day!

So here I am! Now onto my cancer 'journey'. 

Well, what can I say about the last four months? I know. I'm glad they're over! Yep, I've finished my cancer treatment. For those of you wondering what the hell I'm talking about, you can read about my breast cancer diagnonsense here

I finished radiation therapy on April 19. The treatment was daily for four weeks. I had to lie very still on this contraption thingy that circled over me and fried my tit and chest area. For some reason this completely freaked me out, even though you can't feel anything at the time. You would think that lying very still would be the easiest thing in the world to do, but I'm weird. Anyway, the staff asked me what music I liked. So just be to completely different I said Carpenters. I figured if they were going to torture me, I should torture them. It's only fair. So I had Carpenters music on while they zapped me. Towards the end, we mixed it up with a bit of Adele as well. 

I eventually got past my fear of the unknown and it turned into a sort of Groundhog Day drudgery schlepping to the hospital every day. But I got to the finish line, triumphant and tired. SO. FUCKING. TIRED. Radiation causes fatigue. Overall it wasn't as bad as the chemo. I had a red boob and chest with a chronic fatigue chaser. 

Meanwhile, my hair has started to grow back. Looks like it will be ash blonde. NOT grey. Nope. No way. Meh, who cares? I'll take grey hair. Bring. It. On. It's a tiny bit cold having a bald melon now. Luckily I have some quite fetching beanies in the meantime. 

I saw my oncologist last Friday and he said they were very happy with my results. It was an early cancer and I had all the right treatment and tolerated it well. I am officially finished all treatment and now go onto six monthly check-ups, the first of which will be in early September. But to be honest, I'm really trying to not project much into the future. In the July school holidays we are heading to the Gold Coast. I'm not thinking beyond that at the moment. We do have our passports all in order and the possibility of an overseas jaunt at the end of the year is an option. Watch this space. Stay tuned and all that. If it doesn't pan out, we'll just take the Manly ferry and call it the same thing. Winning! 

Oh yeah, apparently I've been to Jupiter anyway. When I was given my list of appointments for Radiation therapy it said the location was Jupiter. I don't recomend it. Try Mars instead. You heard it here first. 

Anyway, today's I Must Confess prompt is a letter to your enemy, so here goes:

Enemy number one:

Dear Cancer,

Fuck you. I have beaten you. One day you will just be a zodiac sign, but until that day can you kindly fuck off and leave me, my family, friends and everyone alone.



Enemy number two:

Dear Mind, 

Calm the fuck down. Stop pointlessly ruminating and pondering and allow coherent thoughts, creativity and ideas in. I would very much appreciate your cooperation with this matter. 



Linking up for I Must Confess

Do you have an enemy? What would your letter say.