Musings & mediations

Dear Me...

2011-01-19T02:25:00.000-08:00

I have a few things to say and this seems to be the only way you'll listen.

This has to stop. Waging war on yourself is two things. Dumb and dumber. The only person it hurts is you.

I don't even understand it. You would open your heart for a thousand strangers, ignore aspects of them that you consider the most heinous flaws in yourself, and try to love them all.

Listen, girlie. There is no such thing as a perfect person. Don't strive towards that imagined ideal. Sure, grow, change, mature, learn, experience! Do that! Don't try to be a cookie-cutter. You're not cookie cutter crazy hair.

I wish you would embrace who you are. You're playful and sweet, trying to do the right thing and wanting everyone to love you. You know they won't. Yet still you try. Let it go, because if they don't love everything you are, they're not worth it.And the people that you love that love you are priceless without measure. No reason not to be pleasant though!

You are not a failure at anything. So you tried some relationships, some different types of work and they didn't work out. 99% of these things don't amount to a lasting love or career. Be proud. You're being proactive about a future career. You let yourself open up to loving someone else. That's more than many are capable of. Don't lose that beguiling innocence and hope for the best in others. Some people will let you down - many won't.

You haven't forgotten your dreams. They're in your plans as you take on the responsibility of being an adult - you're honouring your parents and making sure you don't have to rely on them to bail you out. You're just doing it with more understanding behind you.

Don't forget that you're beautiful. You have a great smile, and warm gorgeous eyes, and curves that many find sexy. Look hard at that picture in the top right hand corner. That's the girl you are and you're letting some silly outdated hang-ups get in the way. You are working hard to make yours a healthier figure, and if you fall off the horse sometimes, so what? It's a hard ride and you can pick yourself up and try again. Again, be proud of your achievements. You're more than 10 kilos from your worst weight and that wasn't so hard was it?

You are fallible. Sometimes you will not be there for someone who needs you. Sometimes you will not be the best you can be. You can only say sorry, and do better tomorrow. There may be someone better than you than many - but you know, what? You are good at so many things and that is not an excuse for giving up.

Only thing you need to do now is focus. You just need to be yourself. And to stop knocking your sweet self down, because there are more than enough sad people in the world who will try to do it for you.

Have a little faith, a little patience (not your strong point I know) and a little hope.

I love you girl. Try and remember this when you're weak. But remember I will never stop fighting for you.

Love, You

Free to be you

2010-11-30T02:25:00.000-08:00

I am livid. I am fuming. And all I can do is blog about it. But blog I will.

Have we not learnt from the mistakes of our forebears? When will we learn that denying rights to people does not work? When will we learn that as much as we think we understand people we don't, and that our judgment of their situations is far from reality - because we haven't experienced it?

I'm sure that masters thought they knew the minds and ways of their slaves. Men in earlier times also thought they knew the minds of their women - but encouraged them to keep any opinions to themselves. Europeans knew better than their conquered subjects - destroying heritage and culture, an attribute they claimed to understand and possess.

And here we are, standing idly by as our countrymen and women are denied human rights.

I don't know about you, but I'm straight. I have never dated/kissed/performed any kind of sexual act with a woman. But you know what, if I had the inclination, I would follow my heart and my sexuality - because if you're not true to yourself, then you're just cheating yourself.

An interesting video commentary was posted by Boing Boing recently- When did you choose to be straight? It is a well recognised fact that sexuality is not a choice. The same goes for sexual identification - transgenderism.

How dare we say that those of us who are gay or transgender are not good enough? How dare we indicate that there is something wrong with them? Have you ever experienced what someone gay or transgendered feels - to know they will be hated and judged, and worse still, considered a second class citizen in the place they were born? All because of the person they were when they were born.

Discrimination wears the face of public opinion and I, as a member of the public, am ashamed.

We ought to be horrified. We are using old excuses. Excuses which fall hard and flat upon the floor. I can not believe that people are still musing about this.

How do you want your children to look at you? Do you want them to see the prejudiced, the judgemental, the apathetic, the afraid that you are? Or do you want them to see someone who loves them, who wants to create a better world for them to live in?

A world where you're free to be who you are.

Old love is sexy

2010-08-21T21:50:00.000-07:00

I know your last thought about being older is that it's sexy. If you read my title and thought, "Sophie's coming a bit out of left field today, where is her head at?", then bear with me.

Newspapers appear occasionally with good news stories of those happily married for 30 or more years, whose hearts, lives and hands have belong to each other as long as they can almost remember.

These older couples are a hopeful contrast to the Australian divorce rates of around 50, 000 per year. A few couples that make it to this point give us all hope that perhaps we won't be another statistic, a person alone when it comes to our twilight years.

But why sexy, I hear you asking? Sure, it's not so sexy if it's your grandparents or parents, or anyone you know really. But tell me, does your heart not lift a little when you see an older couple cuddle or hold hands? Thinking, that could be me one day.

But do you want to know the most attractive part of all? That there is still love when you're grey and wrinkly as an elephant; when you wear pants well above what used to be your waist; when nothing works or looks as well as it once did. Loving someone's wrinkles around their eyes (when you know the events that carved those lines), the changing curves of their body (those well travelled paths that are being mapped anew), the loss of colour in their hair (from those events that shaped your very lives together)... That is what real love is.

And damn, don't you think that's sexy?

This love will never, this old love will never die
~Lior~

What the heart wants

2010-07-10T06:53:00.000-07:00

Stop thinking about what everyone else wants. What do you want? Noah, The Notebook

I am the girl that believes in happy endings and ever afters. I was weaned on the fairytales where everything worked out and stories rounded out in all the wonderful ways.

Tonight, The Notebook was on TV, and I was watching it and thinking that here again, we have a reinforcing of the lore we learnt as children - that we would live happily ever after, with a partner that loved us more than anything, from little more than a passing glance in the wood.

But life is not a children's storybook. Life is hard, it is mean and it hurts. The people that fall in love with us do get hurt when we hurt them, turn them away. Or they do not fall in love with us in the first place. When we go through illnesses as debilitating as Alzheimer's, our partners don't wither away with us. We do not survive on pittance without fighting endlessly with the stress of poverty.

But here's the consolation: in life, there are people that will love us wholly and solely because of exactly who we are, and who will love us our whole life through. There will occasionally be some money in our lives. We may not have riches or never ending romance, but we have relationships with people that enrich us, because we've had to work at them and through the tough times. There will be moments that defy that which any author can write, times of great feeling and emotion. And here's the kicker: they will all be the moments of our lives.

What I want is not a fairytale with white horses and two dimensional heroes. I want a life I can look back on and say, that was a life I lived as best I could. I want to say that I loved another fully, without reservations, and was loved so in return. That with the gift of life that was given me, I followed those dreams I dreamed to the best of my ability. That not a moment was wasted.

I want to say my life was my story, my very own fairy tale, that which my very heart desired.

Obsession

2010-07-05T05:26:00.000-07:00

What a dark and twisted emotion obsession is. It controls and feeds on itself, needing you to go to new heights to feed its frenzied requests.

It's scary for both the obsessing and the obsessed about. On one side, there is the dark new side to your personality that won't give in until it knows everything. As the recipient, all you want to do is hide from the scary behaviour, from this person you once cared for.

Obsession stems from both insecurity and need. From loneliness and the abject fear of it. From not being good enough, or just not being enough. It's ugly. And ultimately, leaves you cold and alone. It's unhealthy.

And in this digital age, we're all a little guilty of it. Who are you obsessing over tonight?

Possibilities

2010-07-04T03:35:00.000-07:00

Possibilities frighten and sadden me. I like many parts of my life and imagining portions of it not as they were unnerves me (I have an overactive imagination).

The idea of parallel universes intrigues and fascinates me. But I feel for the Sophie that was never born.. the Sophie that was never a sister to my little brother... the Sophie that never loved those I have and do, and never loved in return as I have been...

I know she would have had different experiences, a different story, a different life. But, as flawed and troublesome as mine has been, it has also been charmed. Graced by characters, experiences and memories I never want to let go... I don't want these other Sophie's to miss out on that.

I'm a crazy, emotional sad person I know, but has any one ever felt the same way? That there is a person or experience that your life would be poorer without?

Memories in a moment

2010-06-23T05:19:00.000-07:00

I had never thought about just how items become homes for a memory, a trigger if you will, for remembrance of a person, place or situation.

Tonight, I was making myself a cup of tea in a favourite cup of mine. The base and inside are painted a glossy midnight blue, but there is a strip of white around the top. As I poured the water in, I remembered how this particular cup came to me.

It was when I had first moved to Brisbane, my second year of my degree. The summer was stormy and steamy, almost excruciatingly uncomfortable and unpredictable as Brisbane summers are.. I was staying with my cousin Liesl, who sadly I hadn't had much of an opportunity to get to know outside of our occasional family gatherings.

This cup belonged to Liesl. I loved drinking water out of it, because the cool water in it reminded me of a black, inky pool. My fertile imagination would run with feverish scenarios that involved cool waters.

When I moved out to my first (and only, I should add) Brisbane share house, I had next to nothing. Barely anything. Liesl gave me cups and cutlery, but so generously also gave me the cup she knew I had coveted. These gifts might not seem much to someone who has oodles of house equipment, but to me they were a thoughtful and very useful gift.

This cup has come with me, from Brisbane to Wollongong to Melbourne, migrating along the eastern coast with me. But lately I have given little thought to it as I made myself tea or coffee. But tonight, it is a memory that warms me, as the tea warms my hands. This little cup is a vessel to remind me of great times getting to know my cousin, and a gift that meant so much to me many moons ago.

It's amazing the thoughts one little cup provokes..

Water wonder

2010-04-14T04:44:00.000-07:00

Where would we be without water? It's about 70% of our bodies, and covers about the same amount of our planet. We drink it, use it for cooking, recreate in it and use it for cleaning.

I'm not going to talk about it as the resource that will probably cause the next world war, its proposed role in the next ice age or global warming. What I am thinking of is the heavenly feel of it on your skin.

As a child, I would play underwater, imagining I was a mermaid or dolphin. I lived under the sea in my games, the blue world beneath the surface (I even once auditioned for Ocean Girl). There is a serenity, a quietness, a freedom there. There's even a reflex where our heart rate slows when our face touches cold water.

I find that same serenity lying in the bottom of a warm bath, bubbles trickling up to the air, surrounded by the warmth. This is probably a primal feeling, dating way back to the love and comfort of our mothers.

But it makes you feel better, human, clean, whole. It is a meditative experience. Or maybe that's just me. The girl who could swim before she could walk. What about you?

Handle With Care

2010-04-12T04:28:00.000-07:00

My mother said to me recently, "What is wrong with having someone take care of you?" She was, of course, referring to my past propensity to pick men who wouldn't look after me and only look after themselves.

While I was taken aback by the suggestion at the time (I thought I was choosing relationships where things were more even), I spent more time thinking about her question. Being cared for is not the sole responsibility of a partner. Family and friends are involved in that, they are the source of most of your support.

My housemate Kelly cooked me dinner tonight (and made tasty cookies), knowing that I was not feeling completely healthy. I get phone calls from Lauren and Nirvana, two girls who know me in and out. I often talk online to Greg, Dave and Nikki who cheer me up and help me sort my headspace. I talk to my Mum, the woman who has known me the longest, and dammit, is often right about me (I admit with much chagrin).

Our partners are being built up to carry our burdens. But often they are already sharing them. Struggling under their own, and our shared troubles. We even involve them in the early stages, from a couple of months in. It seems that just enjoying someone, getting to know them, should be the priority.

I know of myself as a partner, I would do just about anything to make happy someone I care deeply about. I am learning not to do this at the expense of myself and my needs. I see the burn out in my friends all the time.

Am I alone in this? Do we all ask to much of our partners? Do we give too much of ourselves to others?

Pre-marriage mayhem

2010-04-08T06:43:00.000-07:00

Hen's and buck's nights are a routine part of the wedding hullabaloo. I tend to wonder what purpose they served before this lascivious and sexualised age.

I understand that as a celebration, they have a place. They serve as a farewell from the world of singledom, into the newly uncharted ways of coupledom. It is a fond kiss on the cheek, a wishing well, a celebration to end their time as a sole and lonely person, able to make decisions only for themselves.

In these modern times, our couples often live together, long before the engagement, the wedding, and sometimes even have the white picket fences and children first. They've charted and mapped the coastline of the final commitment, seasoned sailors on the relationship voyage.

Why then this charade of a veiled and unknown world, when most only really need the piece of paper and a ceremony to tie it all together? A fair proportion of couples are not religious, so it's not under God that they wish to align themselves.

It seems to be an outlet for the stress leading up to the wedding, a break from all the nay-sayers and the well-meaning advisers. Sometimes it's used as an excuse for bad behaviour under the guise of "one last hurrah". It is not a license. If you don't wish to be in a marriage, or with the one person, don't be. Don't use a party as an excuse.

I say this, but this weekend I relished sending my friend off to a place in her life she has waited a long time to be. She has the career, she has the house, she has the fiancee she loves dearly, and soon he will be her husband. She is so excited and I, in turn, am happy for her.

So what I think we will be celebrating for her is the culmination of all her current successes, the summary of all her achievements, the rounding out of her happiness. We will be celebrating her wonderful choice in a partner and wishing her the best possible future.

What does everyone else think? Have I missed a reason to celebrate?

A time for everything

2010-04-08T05:43:00.000-07:00

At the moment there has not been time for everything. Not enough time for friends, for internships, moving, new jobs and the like. I had taken on too much for what I was capable of at this time.

One decision was taken out of my hands. At first, I railed and was disappointed. But then it began to dawn on me. The universe works in mysterious ways. The lack of this in my life means I can sort out a number of other opportunities and experiences I was neglecting.

I'm a great subscriber to the idea that opportunities occur your life for a reason, that friend come into your life for a season. They fulfill a purpose you might not even begin to comprehend, but they do.

So I close this door with no ill will, no hurt, no disillusionment. And I open my eyes to look for a window.

If wishes were fishes

2010-04-04T00:26:00.000-07:00

And if wishes were fishes I know where I'd be
Casting my net in the dark rolling sea
And if my net's empty when it comes back to shore
I'll throw it away and go fishing no more.

Wishing is a fruitless past-time, better to go out and get it.

Trouble is those pesky little feelings. Sometimes it's not about getting, but about feeling. It's hard to care so much for someone and know in your heart that you can not give them all that they need and deserve. I wish that I had been able to return all that I received.

All I can wish is that there is someone out there who will love and cherish in the ways that I wished that I could.

Can you wish with regret? I think so..

I wish I could care again reach out and share again
Mend whats been broken and let it run free

What are we glorifying?

2010-03-25T03:33:00.000-07:00

Woman's Weekly this month are interviewing the mistress of the recently deceased Richard Pratt, Melbourne billionaire and chairman of Visy Industries, a paper recycling company. Her claim to fame is that she was his mistress for years and they had a daughter together.

Now, I don't care what people do in their private lives, though it distresses me to think of Richard Pratt's wife. What must she go through to see a respected magazine like the Australian Woman's Weekly touting the woman who would command the man who promised to love, honour and protect her.

Publicly promoting this sort of woman, however, makes me livid. Why are we promoting her alongside the respectable and very classy Michelle Obama? Hell, why do we even teach our daughters and sisters to be classy, smart, fun and intelligent women? Why don't we just get them to practice their trophy wife laughs and send them into the path of rich, older businessmen? That way, they get their meal ticket and never have to earn or achieve a damn thing themselves?

I am sick to the stomach of story after story like this. Why do we glorify people who never hold a steady job and make no contribution to the greater good of society? Where are the women who work hard, love hard, play hard? Those who make me proud to be a woman in this day and age.

Am I alone in this? Or just a preachy little soul... What do you think?

Adam Elliot: A tribute to talented professional Australians

2010-03-19T04:05:00.000-07:00

Every now and again in life, you get one of those opportunities of a life time you will never forget. As an intern today, I got to interview Adam Elliot.

For those of you not in the know, Adam Elliot is the brains and the brawn behind the Academy Award winning stop-motion animation Harvie Krumpet. You might be more familiar with Mary and Max, half of which is set in Mount Waverley, and which screened in the opening night of the Sundance International Film Festival.

I won't talk too much about the interview, because I don't know if anyone of my acquaintance will ever see it. It was over the phone and although I'd written the questions in advance (I won't pretend they were Pulitzer Prize level questions), my palms were sweating and stomach was churning.

I couldn't get an answer, so I was going to wait. But he called me back from his mobile. Not only is this man exceptionally talented but then he is the most down to earth person. He still sounds like an Australian, and was positively delightful to listen to.

That he gave his time to an unimportant girl doing an internship impressed me. When I originally looked at the list of locations he's given speeches (international conferences, local schools or libraries), I was humbled. Here is a man who is internationally recognised, whose films are seen in the far corners of the globe. Yet, he holds on to his family and friends, and actively gives back to his community.

No wonder this man won Young Australian of the Year some years ago. I wish I had half the talent and all the humility. All I can say is this: Interviewing Mr Elliot has to be one of the highlights of my life. And to him, thank you for the chance.

What about all of you? What do you think makes someone worthy of respect?

Mr Adam Elliot and his creation Harvie Krumpet

Fingerprints on our lives

2010-03-11T03:06:00.000-08:00

'Our fingerprints don't fade from the lives we touch.'

Robert Pattinson's new movie is out, and that phrase is a little soundbite from the trailer. Much as I am despising Hollywood for cheapening quite a meaningful phrase, it did get me thinking. How much of what I am is the mark others have left on my life?

I think about my love of books, the hallmark of my tirelessly patient parents who read to me endlessly. My love of music probably stems from them too, from the strains of Nina Simone or Rod Stewart or The Beatles that floated through our house. Or my mother singing in the shower or as she did jobs. Let's not talk about my father's singing, because thankfully, the beautiful sound of mother's voice over rules the strangled cat sounds in my memory. Let's not even touch the love of nature, camping and all little fluffy animals.

My ability to arrange some flattering semblance of dress and a face of beautiful make-up is probably due to my friend Lauren and the hours we whiled away in her room, with me as the model. She probably taught me to take pride in my appearance, to lift my head and highlight my beautiful head. I also learnt to be myself, singing Mariah Carey at the top of my lungs like a child. Being the life of the party is my friend Nikki's forte. How to keep a party going, and what to add at what time, what cool music to play. Nirvana showed me that my body is a temple, and that maintaining it is essential to keep on channeling the love. What can I say about Kell? She gives me age old wisdom of sass - how to use it and when. Plus, all the wisdom of her travels. Cass introduced me to true nerd-dom, and made me the nerd girl I am today. Jas... what can I even say about Jas? There's an appreciation for all occurrences that deviate slightly

These are only a selection of the people who I hold dear who have made impressions on my life and on my heart. But I wonder, what would I be today without all the fingers in this pie, all the people who contributed an ingredient to make me the slice of deliciousness today. I am grateful for your contributions, and you will always be special to me.

What makes up the list of ingredients of you?

Mess

2010-03-09T01:58:00.000-08:00

What can I say? I'm a mess.

I'm a girl who looks better with bed hair. Keeping wrinkles out and clothes straight and unsplattered with food or drink is a full time job for me. My home is covered in clutter (though is clean).

I attract mess. Personally, I've dated some lovely, very personable messes. And I loved them in all their beautiful chaos. In my life, I've created work spaces where my little mind is indulged with the thousand little tasks to do on a daily basis.

I don't want to be ordered. I enjoy the crazy chaotic moments, but I wish that my life just wasn't so twisted up on itself. I like feeling what I feel and all the of the inexplicable, irrational life bits that make things interesting and mad. Sometimes though, I wish the bumps in the road were smoother, the life a little more easy and less complicated.

Or is that just me? Is life better complicated?

Intimates

2010-03-08T03:39:00.000-08:00

I once watched a couple of professional dancers saunter their way through the most sensuous salsa I'd ever seen. The blush rose on my cheeks but I was entranced and couldn't tear my eyes away. On one hand it was beautiful, on the other hand almost so intimate I felt I shouldn't watch.

These moments appear in the most unexpected places. Tonight, watching Brothers and Sisters, when Robert McCallister lays his lips upon his wife's bald scalp. As a girl's long hair is brushed. A person sitting eating a delectable, that look of utter exclusion and ecstasy on their face... The cradling of a child in their mother's arms. A person sobbing in the arms of another. Occasions of utmost intimacy, either tear-provoking or heart warming, are the gems of humanity.

Most of you know that I am a sentimentalist. The touching stories, the little glittering truths given to me are special little gifts... I treasure them all. My "shinies" are these glimpses of the world I may not understand, but am given by opening my eyes, my ears, my arms and my heart. So come world, and deliver unto me yet another exquisitely precious and unique moment.

My most favourite sensual dancers -
the late and great Mr Swayze and Ms Grey

We lost a friend in the field tonight

2010-01-23T19:21:00.000-08:00

Whoever says that an online community is not as close-knit as a physical one has never been part of a truly involving internet group. Whoever says that virtual friendships to not equivilate to face-to-face friendships has never had a friend so involved with their lives on the web that they feel they’ve known them most of their lives.

Splatters, or followers of the Splat! blog, lost a friend in the field this weekend. Sally Hawkins, also known as Little Coffee or PIH, passed away and has left a terrible hole in our little group of friends.

Never again will she like my status on Facebook or commiserate with me on Splat. I won’t laugh out loud at her comments or chat with her about our mutual friends. I will never get the opportunity to meet her in person, as I dearly would have liked to do, and see how her online persona translated into her everyday life.

Sal was such a warm and caring person that I know she will be sorely missed, online and off. I know of at least ten people who will miss her wry and self-depreciating comments. I will miss most of all her zest for life, which was a path she had just begun travelling after ignoring her own need for happiness so long.

She would tell us off for the useless tears, though be terribly touched that we all care so much, and admonish us to continue to what she had only just begun. To truly embrace our lives, to change and modify until we’re happy, and to like ourselves.

Sal, with each expresso I touch to my lips I will think of you and the promises you made to yourself, and I will endeavour to follow in your footsteps. You will be sorely missed, and as our friend Kelly said, the stars will shine a little brighter for you from now on.

I can already see you there.

RIP Sally Hawkins, beloved friend, mother and commenter, 1974 - 2010. We'll miss you Little Coffee. x

Out of touch

2009-12-16T02:14:00.000-08:00

A group of psychologists from the University of Chicago broke a finding last week that indicated that those of us in social networks transmit loneliness to our friends. Now, I don't know about you all, but I think this is a crock.

We all have lonely friends. The ones who get so eager to go out with others that we often find it awkward to ask them. There are the friends who are not social people when you're sitting beside them at a party, but get them behind a keyboard and they crack you up all over Twitter.

See, what I believe is this. Yes, sitting behind a computer does get lonely, especially when everyone is at arm's length or thousands of kilometers away. But there is another sort of social support going on here.

If you have any social skills at all, and frequent places like Twitter and Facebook, and make friends online from all over our planet, you are very rarely ever truly alone. I know that if I post on Facebook about how my life is going down the gurgler, I will get 10 replies telling me to hang in, probably followed by texts or phone calls from my besties.

When I get on Twitter and ask for help (as I have in the last couple of months), my Twitterati have supported me, from retweeting my pleas for work to actually offering me what little employment they could.

It might not be the pat on the back, or an awkward hug, but in modern society, this is support and friendship. A direct message on Twitter is the little post-it on the desk of yesteryear, an email the long-winded letter of the past, a phone call the face-to-face conversation of a forgotten age.

Don't misunderstand me. Sometimes, a person just needs a hug. But social networks can remind you that you have friends, and a purpose, and that little bit of validation you needed. What these psychologists failed to measure was the support we all give to each other.

And when it comes down to it, if Twitter and Facebook are just not providing, go next door and hug your neighbour. They might think you're a weirdo, but you will have gotten your endorphins for the day.

A good meal

2009-12-06T05:05:00.000-08:00

It is the charming little acts of kindness that make us feel appreciated and wanted. We all like to feel cared for, it reminds us that what we do does not go unnoticed, that we will not fade away into the annals of time without another human being ever being aware of our existence.

An act of service for someone you care about can be anything. Some like to return to clean houses, others to receive phone calls and another a few words of encouragement and acknowledgement of your esteem. Regardless of your personal language of appreciation, no one can deny that a clear act of service is creating a meal for another.

A meal provides sustenance, gives us all endorphins to remind us that nourishment is good for us, and leaves us feeling contented. It stimulates our minds, our physical sensation of taste and generally alters our mood. Even the creation is an act of love, with each slivered vegetable and sauteed ingredient prepared for the sole purpose of feeding others.

It seems that in this day and age, the art of cooking has fallen by the wayside. Why make a meal, when we can pay someone to do it for us? Why spend an age over a stove when a chef at the restaurant down the road will probably do a better job?

Because you care enough to know you have worked to provide, and you have created this masterpiece or disaster. You know the sweat, and often the tears, that have accompanied this concoction. And if the person you serve is aware of anything outside themselves, they will too. A dinner cooked for you is a honour of the highest order.

This week, I showed two friends that I appreciated them by making them my specialty dish: lasagne. It may not have been the best lasagne either of them has ever eaten, and it may not even have rated as the best lasagne I have ever made, but when they both thanked me, I could see that they appreciated the effort I had put into our meal.

With that idea in mind, what act of service will you perform this week, and for whom? I challenge you all to cherish the people around you, however you best know how.

Messages from the universe

2009-11-30T04:39:00.000-08:00

Today, I found out that my contract for my job would not be renewed. I also discovered that instead of having the two months I anticipated, I have one.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter or are my Facebook friends know how miserable I have been in this job, and for how long. I should have, in fact, left it probably 12 months ago.

However, this job has been instrumental in pointing me in the directions I don't want to take, and to reinvigorate my need to explore the creative side that I have failed to nurture for far too long.

This job has been the message from the universe that my place is probably not in unadulterated science. It is saying in loud and clear tones that my place is not in the underbelly of science, in the labs and at the benches. But I haven't been listening to what the universe has been telling me.

It tells me that I belong somewhere that I get to interact with people. I want to craft words daily, to explain, to conjure and describe, to persuade and reason. There is a future for me somewhere within these boundaries.

Today, I got a message from the universe. It said, Believe in yourself and follow your own stars.

And today, I am listening.

Soothing to the soul

2009-11-28T04:37:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when the world seems as if it is caving in around you and darkness creeps in through every crevice, it is hard to get past that feeling of hopelessness.

This week, I have been struggling through my depression. I confess that I do not get clinical depression, but like every one of us, I have my moments of downtime. Not in the sense of relaxation time, but the sadness I cannot escape easily.

It can be hard to be around someone who is down in the dumps and isn't showing any signs of seeing the light. When someone is struggling, you can't be the life buoy but you can provide some smooth seas to help them resurface.

A beautiful glass of red, a conversation, a night out in the sweet spring air, can be the break a beleagured heart needs. The occasional compliment, a laugh and a cheesy comedy (a romantic one for us girls) can lift the spirit immeasureably.

So don't give up on your friend who is bogged down in the mire. Get yourself a bottle of red, raise a glass and toast to all the aspects of your life you have to be grateful for. Tonight, I raise a glass to you my friends, who kept my head above water this week, and say thanks for your enduring love and support.

Touching

2009-11-20T23:02:00.000-08:00

Has anyone stopped to think about the word touch lately?

The thought occurred to me as I wandered down the street late one evening this week as the person I was with touched me gently on the arm.

Touching is probably the most wonderful activity you can do in this existence! You can touch a person's soul with a touching story about you or your life, that speaks to them as if your very beings were connected.

With parts of your body, you can touch another person, and in that way, make them feel touched by your concern. It even describes the fleeting contact you can have with another human, barely touching as you pass by each other on your path through life.

The genuine and sweet touches a person adds to your life can bring a touch of colour to your cheeks as you appreciate the way they honour you. You can have 'the touch' and be gloriously good at everything you do.

Touch, the pure physical form, is so vital for us as emotional and sentimental beings. In neonatal intensive care units, parents are encouraged to touch their babies to improve their outcome. Contact is vitally important for relationships, as it's an important way to tell a person that you care for them, you think that they're foxy or even just that you are there for them.

Personally, I don't believe there is enough touch in the world. Not enough hugs between friends, not nearly enough sexual or otherwise contact between partners, or even the social peck on the cheek. So I hope you're all feeling touched today, in all the good ways, even it is only that little warm feeling inside from reading a post from a little Melbourne girl who hoped to touch you just a little bit tonight. Please feel free to share how touch has improved your life lately.

Image borrowed from storiesthattouch.blogspot.com

The men in our lives

2009-11-15T01:47:00.000-08:00

Jane Austen: "The only way you can get a man like Mr Darcy is to make him up." - Miss Austen Regrets (Gwyneth Hughes).

Those of us who are attracted to and love men find it very hard to love them. Why should it be so, when we have such loveable literary characters as Mr Darcy, Harry Potter, Gilbert Blythe, Pierre Bezukhov, Almanzo Wilder, just to name a few.

We find it hard to see past these imaginary creatures, beautiful and exquisite in their flawed lovely natures, to the men who are a part of our lives. Why can we not see past the well-formed letters on the page that outline the silhouettes of these men of fantasy to the flesh and blood males who embody the qualities we admire in our fictional characters?

I look to my friends to see the attributes they imbue. My friend Dave is compassionate and just, thinking things through fully. My friend Simon is wildly passionate, loving without bounds or reason. Richard is peaceful and unjudgemental. Greg, cheeky and fun. Steven, always seeking, funny and kind. Scott, driven and charming. Gerry, a dreamer and writer.

Our male friends and lovers all have the characteristics we adore in the men we love in books. And better yet, they exist in reality. Their flaws are as endearing as those of our favourite heros. Their trials as bitter and as moulding.

I, for one look, forward to getting to further know my dear male friends and others, these three dimensional people with hopes and dreams and demons. Because in these men I find the lovely threads of a real tapestry that makes up my world. And who knows, one day I might meet the fascinating man whose thread intertwines with mine.

Wanting more than you can have

2009-11-14T07:13:00.000-08:00

~I believe that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.~ Unknown

Being grateful for the people in our lives is a topic we all revisit on occasion, but isn't there a little portion in all our lives when we want more from someone than they can offer?

Whether this is a friend to offer us an almost sisterhood, or the opposite sex to offer us a relationship, or even those in a relationship to offer us a progression we need, we all feel frustrated, sad or even angry when we can't have what we desire.

But here's the hard truth: we cannot all have what we desire all of the time. Forget all the positive self-talk depicting how you too can have success if you believe and have a plan. There are just some things in life we are not meant to have.

Truth of the matter is, if the shoe were on the other foot and we were the object of frustration, we would want that friend/partner to be happy. So long as it didn't impinge on our own happiness. But more often than not, their desires will change our lives, not necessarily for the better. How selfish is it to ask someone to give up their plans, their hopes, their dreams for yours?

Tonight, I just want to dwell on how wanting something from someone they cannot offer you is an act of selfishness, regardless of your motivations. Tonight, I will be thinking of only good things for those whose plans don't tie in with my own, and who probably love me. Just not in the way my selfish desires would rather they did.

Gain from goodbyes

2009-11-11T04:21:00.000-08:00

It has been my experience in life that the hardest thing to do is to say goodbye, part ways and leave a person who has been pivotal and important to your life thus far.

As a girl who has travelled up and down the coast of Australia, moving every few years, farewells have become a part of my repertoire. Given that you can travel reasonably cheaply within our fine country, I feel as if I only say au revoir, knowing that I will have to opportunity to see most of the friends I make again at some point.

My tender heart has trouble leaving behind those I have loved and cherished, the ones that I won't see again. Somewhat sentimentally, I don't want to let go of a friendship or relationship that has been crucial to my development of self, even if it has become toxic to me.

Part of my growth here has been to learn what it means to truly be able to leave the past behind me. To let go of the baggage that keeps me back from where I want to be. I have learnt this lesson in a particularly hard way this year but I truly believe it has taught me an invaluable secret.

That if you never let people leave your life, you will never have room for anyone else who might be better for you and might have a more permanent role in your life. At the end of the day, I want to travel light and free, not carting around a pile of luggage like this one you will see in the Santiago airport in Chile ( image borrowed from http://www.celebratebig.com).

So I'm learning to appreciate goodbyes, knowing that without them I am not moving onward and upward. Today, I am appreciating the possibilities of tomorrow, freed of my baggage of yesterday. Who's with me?

No place like home

2009-10-30T09:42:00.000-07:00

As an antithesis to my story, A Life of Ordinary, I wrote this story after some nagging from my cousin who wanted me to . This, I suppose, is more how I picture my perfect life to be. So please, enjoy my little snapshot.

As it always did, the gate creaked as it opened inwards into the little but well maintained garden. Her little patch of jungle was coming along nicely in the corner, while the daisies lining the garden path thrived. The whole garden itself was full of the sweet perfume of frangipanis from the tree by the front of the shady front veranda. With a smile, she looked up into the warm sun, closing the gate with a clatter behind her. Even as she climbed the front stairs, she heard the trample of little feet, hurtling to greet her.

At the door, she dropped to the floor, where she was almost bowled over in a flurry of little arms and legs. Her three children were wrapped around her in a tangle of legs and arms.

“Mummy!” they squealed as one.

“Hello my darling ones,” she said fondly, cuddling them each in turn.

With a smile, she straightened the hat on her son’s head. Her eldest, he was the only one who inherited her brown eyes and had the look of her dad. He grinned back with a gap toothed smile, his cheekiness sparkling in his eyes as he went in for the tickle. Though she was not at all ticklish, she obliged, giggling with him as his fingers stroked underneath her armpit.

“That’s enough, cheeky monkey!” she said, wrapping him under one arm and messing up his dark hair.

Turning her attention to her twins wrapped around her legs, she cuddled them together. Her sweet little angels, with their father’s light coloured curls and big blue eyes, were still becoming their own little people. They were named for her grandmother and her twin sister, a concession her husband gave to her knowing how much she cared for both of them. Her great-aunt hadn’t lived to see them, but her mother and dearest Grammie had cried when they had been told. Certainly, they weren’t identical twins, but they looked pretty close and only the slightest changes gave them away.

“Pwetty,” Lola said, stroking her mum’s hair, straightened for the interview she’d had today.

“Thanks poss,” she replied with a big smile, hugging her close.

“And what has my little Marie been doing?” she asked, planting a big kiss on her other daughter’s cheek.

The sweet reward for her affection was a beaming smile and a return slightly slobbery kiss on the other cheek. 10 years ago, that sort of thing might have made her cringe, but now she took it as mark of honour, motherhood’s highest accolade. Love of a child was almost better than, and certainly incomparable to, any other feeling in the world.

With a big groan, she picked up the girls, and said to them all, “Where’s your Dad?”

Her little man Ben, ever eager to please, said “I’ll show you.”

With a comical little jump, he hurtled off down the hallway, as fast as his little legs could carry him. Past the photos of the whole Yorkston clan, past the photos of Aunty Lauren, and Unca Dunca (as they called her brother Duncan). Past the photos of their parents on the Seine, in Egypt. A wedding photo in honeyed light, their parents gazing forever into each other’s eyes. His absence left her looking at her lean body, a product of years of healthy eating and hard work, even after 3 kids.

Laughing loudly, she followed. “Wait honey, Mummy’s not fast enough with the girls!”

Through the lounge room and toy obstacle course, she followed his funny little footsteps to the couch, where her husband sat on his laptop working. He looked up at her over his glasses, a golden curl flopping into his big blue eyes. Slowly, the roguish smile that melted her heart spread across his face. He stood wrapping his arms around his girls, his eyes looking into his wife’s eyes tenderly.

“Ciao bella,” he said softly, cupping his wife’s face before kissing her slowly.

Beneath his lips, her heart fluttered as it had for all the other times he had kissed her, before and since he made her his wife. They were right, she thought, to say that someone will come into your life to show you how all the others were wrong. Not to say their marriage was perfect, but it was pretty happy and that was the important part.

“Hi gorgeous,” came her breathless reply when he was done kissing her. She ached to get her hands on him, but the girls were firmly planted on either hip. Later. Looking at the clock on the wall, she saw it was 6. If they were quick, they could walk down to the beach for a little play before it got too late.

A quick flurry around the household resulted in the right shoes on the right feet and a touch of hats to heads and the 6 of them were out the door. 6 of course including their dog, a golden retriever cross they called Trip, short for Tripitaka. Yes, she and her husband were both nerds, weaned on the glory that is Monkey Magic.

The sun was setting on the world, casting that beautiful dusky hush across the seascape. Trip ran into the waves, glorious in her all her golden galloping. Between them, they swung Ben into the surf, a little girl’s hand held tightly in the other hand. They walked along the beach, pointing to the freighter’s on the horizon, at the seagulls whirling madly into the sky that had been hounded by Trip, to the tiny shell Marie pointed out. Half an hour later, and as soon as 3 little voices were getting cranky, they headed home.

In the soft lamplight a few hours later, the two of them were finally alone. In one of his old t-shirts, she was curled against him, his arm wrapped around her stomach.

“So how did the meeting go?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing the back of her neck.

Beneath his arm, he felt her stiffen. “Oh honey,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck, “it’ll be fine. We’ll find another publisher.”

She rolled over then and he could see the excitement written from her eyes to the beaming smile he fell in love with. “I don’t need one. They’re going to publish my book!”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier? We could have called everyone!”

“I’m waiting,” she replied coyly.

“For what?”

The cheeky grin was back. “For them to approve a contract on the second and third books.”

He was up on his knees on their bed, pulling her up into an enormous hug, grinning from ear to ear. “Look at you my beautiful, talented wife! My talented authoress!”

They bounced together on the bed in quiet glee, celebrating as only the parents of toddlers know how. Quietly.

He kissed her. Throwing her arms about his neck, she kissed him back fiercely as he pulled her body towards him.

With a wolfish grin, he said, “I think it’s celebration time. For my brilliant wife, I’m going to do that thing she likes.”

Her answering smile was flirtatious. “And what would that be?”

“Turn off that light, and I’ll show you.”

Turning away from him, she crawled across the bed as he prowled after her, before she reached over and plunged the room into darkness. In the dark, there were sounds of a pounce and much giggling...

To the man in my future

2009-10-05T20:27:00.000-07:00

I just want to say thank you in advance, for being a part of my life, and of my dreams.

Please be a romantic. I have dreams of dancing in the kitchen, laughing with you as you twirl me, a flower from our garden between your teeth. I need someone who appreciates the rose coloured glasses I wear and the good I can see in everyone.

If you could be supportive and cajoling, that would be great as well. We all know I'm a sensitive little emo girl, so if you can support me most times, I might find a touch more self confidence.

A little bit of sensuality and a love of physical contact would fit in perfectly too. I do love to be affectionate, and am in love with an arm around me, a lap to curl into and a shoulder to lean on.

I'm ready to love your mind too, full of pocketfuls of information I would never have imagined knowing. I want to investigate your brain, with all its little quirks and hidden treasures. I want it to challenge me, help me grow and most of all, work to understand this little bundle of crazy.

So, I know I can't rush you, but sometime in the not too distant future would be great. Please, don't break my heart. It is a fragile little thing and not nearly as robust as I make it out to be.

Love always and a thousand kisses for your trouble,

Smoph

To the 2009 AFL Premiers

2009-09-26T08:52:00.000-07:00

Tonight the Geelong Wildcats (affectionately known as the Cats) and the St Kilda Football Club (the Saints) battled it out for a shiny silver cup and a country's accolades as the 2009 Australian (Rules) Football League (AFL) Premiers.

A gritty game was played by both sides, both getting down and dirty in the muddy MCG, each side as desperate as the other to win the game. The teams were evenly matched, with Geelong's stellar attack and the Saints on guard with superb defence.

Both fumbled, choked and had poor aim at the goal posts with equal measure. The game looked like it was coming down to the pitiful points the Saints kept scoring every time they had a shot at a goal, but at least they were putting a score on the board. In the end, the Cats fought back, scratching out a small victory, clawing it back from the slight lead the Saints held over them for most of the game.

What was the beauty of the game though was the nail-biting tension, the edge-of-your-seat tightness of the contest. What will be remembered for many years to come will not be the hail, nor the rain, and who won will become less relevant. What the fans will remember is a superb game of football played by two teams at the top of their game, striving for excellence and a victory.

Tonight, I wanted to congratulate the Saints on a well-fought match. They certainly were contenders and looked as if they would win most of the match. They should be proud. For the Geelong boys, well done on regaining the Premiership, you deserved it for your tireless efforts tonight and for not giving up when the going was tough.

Congratulations 2009 Premiers Geelong!

What a game!

Grief

2009-09-07T05:16:00.000-07:00

In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.

~Robert Ingersoll~

Grief is a strange emotion, stranger than the rest. With grief, you always feel bereft but you go on, you pretend it's fine. Each day you wear a mask and move forward, because sitting still won't make the pain go away.

Each day you move, grief holding stubbornly to the hem of your clothes, dragging you backward, making you feel as if you a slogging through meters of mud. Somehow, in some way, you function. But you feel hollow and lost. The world exists beneath a cover of cool, impersonal glass, distorting your view, cutting you off from all that is vibrant in the world.

For several weeks, I have felt as if I could not smile. That by smiling, I would break the gates holding back the flood of tears behind my eyelids, pushing them up and outward. That the merest upturn of my lips would break the facade.

This week, I found myself laughing at song. It cascaded out from under the veil of mourning, snapping the bonds of heartbreak. Another day, I saw the beautiful streaky sunset in its full technicolour glory.

The one good thing about grief is that when it lets go, it's a surprise. The hold loosens and you start to feel a part of the world again. So I'd like to say a big hello again to you world. Thanks for still being around to remind me why the world is worthwhile to be a part of.

Don't think, just do

2009-09-02T05:43:00.000-07:00

I have finally booked in my trip to Fiji for October. I have been saying for years that I would go with my dear friend Nikki, and finally, I am going.

When I committed to this holiday, I sat back and said to myself... Why have I been holding back on this so long? What could possibly have held me back from travelling to a beautiful island paradise?

The answer?: I don't know. Except that I have realised was afraid and couldn't acknowledge it to myself.

It has been a long time since I travelled overseas, and I was a child under my parent's guidance and protection. This is the first time I have truly stepped out on my own, where only I am responsible for my personal safety, and apart from the lovely people I am staying with and one of my best friends, I am a million miles away from the people I love.

I am afraid of the debt it will bring. How I will pay for it, being an independent woman on her own... No more shinies for me for a while.

But at the end of the day, I will have been to Fiji, somewhere new and exciting in the world. I for once will have followed through on one of my plans! I have a reason to be proud of myself and I will have memories that will last a lifetime.

For once, I am following the advice of Snow Patrol and so many others:

Don't think, just do!

Pushing the comfort zone #2

2009-08-31T06:29:00.000-07:00

I know some of you have been keeping track of me pushing the comfort zone once a week, and this week it was going to CSTS (Can't Stop The Serenity) Melbourne event and being involved in helping it run smoothly.

It started with meeting up with some of the organisers from the Melbourne Browncoats, whom I hope to get to know a little better, as they were all quite warm and interesting people. But.. it was at a place called Groove Train in Melbourne Central, where I'd never been before, and I managed to get myself stuck in one half of the shopping centre.. the eerily closed up half! I finally burst free from what I think was a fire escape stairwell to make it across into the other half, but I was late. And not even my normal late. Late late! Luckily all was forgiven and I had a delightful meal and conversation with the guys!

Sunday was the day of the event, and it dawned a beautiful crisp Melbourne winter day. No rain or showers as predicted but sunshine as only Melbourne can do it - while still bloody freezing! I wound up at St Kilda, so sure that was where I was meant to be.

It wasn't. Panic and a dash to a net cafe later (with a sidestop at Acland St cakes for coffee and a delicious Danish), I discovered I was actually meant to be at St Kilda Road in Southbank! Oops! Honestly, I don't know where my head is at lately..

Long story short, I arrived and spent most of the day on the merchandise store. It was busy and I got to see just how many people still love Serenity, and what a varied crowd it was! Kids, teenagers, families, couples. There was even the people who turned up in costume, not knowing there was a costume competition. We love those guys!!

All in all, it was a great day. We raised $2300 or so for the women's charity Equality Now. I met and got to hang out with a bunch of great guys who were all really committed and relaxed about the whole thing, and saw what a diverse bunch of sci-fi fans there are out there! There will be some events in September and October, so if interested check out the Melbourne Browncoats website at http://melbournebrowncoats.com.

And you know what they say.. After a day like that, there's no way you can stop the serenity...

Shake it like you just don't care

2009-08-31T06:07:00.000-07:00

Just a quick blog tonight to tell you all how I love the universe. I was driving home last night from a tiring day, both physically and emotionally. Don't get me wrong, it was a great one, full of new experiences and meeting new people, plus doing the supportive friend act.

I was driving along in my car, rather tiredly, when I noticed the P-plater (provisionally licensed driver, for those not Australian natives)in the car in front of me. Randomly gesticulating hands, moving their head around in weird ways. I was intrigued and perplexed. What on earth were they doing?

And then it struck me. They were dancing!

The same thing I do on a regular basis, where I get carried away listening to the fun and funky music in my car. With their entire body, this person was expressing the joy and the pure ecstasy of the pulsing beat of life!

Thank you P-plater, whoever you were. I am reminded that life is lived at 100% or not at all. And that there are weirdos out there like me, who dance in their cars, celebrating what it is to exist.

Discovering Dali

2009-08-26T03:26:00.000-07:00

To begin a journey with an artist, you should go back to their humble beginnings, their tentative steps toward creation of the truly magnificent. A great exhibit takes you on a journey along the slow meandering travels the artist took to get to the place where they found their uniquely creative voice.

Hats off to the National Gallery of Victoria (also known as NGV), who have really put on a good show. You follow ants (a favourite theme of Dali's) into the exhibition and travel through the evolution of his individual style. What I didn't know about Dali is that he was an excellent painter foremost, and that he honed his own talents through imitation of style. The exhibit takes you through the different techniques he worked with and these were extensive. Some different pieces incorporated cubism, photography and film. I realised he was a prolific artist but before this show I had no idea of the wide scope of his work.

All in all, my favourite parts of the whole exhibit were the photographs, one of which I have put in this blog, and a cartoon collaboration with Walt Disney called Destino. The cartoon was sweet and surreal, but the message seemed to be that sometimes we are another's destiny. The images of the cute little bell that was a girl always destined to be the heart of the male statue really stuck with me. Maybe that is just me and my sentimentality but it really spoke to me more than any other piece there. The painting Surrealist composition with invisible figures was my favourite, though the blurb left something to be desired. His jewellery was also quite beautiful, lovely to look at, but reminded me strongly of costume jewellery (which it was, of course).

My main criticism was the pushy hoarde of people that also decided to attend the exhibition on the day that I chose to go. I don't begrudge anyone else the right to go and see the exhibit, but I don't believe anyone could fully enjoy it when they were so crowded in and rushed through. The NGV also didn't include some of his most famous pieces, although I can understand the reason for that.

But if you are in Melbourne, I would urge you to go and explore Dali. From the innocent pictures of his youth, through to the very surreal paintings he did and fascinating work with other visual media. One, because an exhibit like this only comes to Melbourne once in a lifetime. Two, because who knows what it might inspire you to. And lastly, because you walk out humble and wish your talents could be so easily seen as those of Dali.

Someone should have told Dali that cats and water don't mix..

Lowering standards

2009-08-25T06:22:00.000-07:00

Having just come out of a relationship, albeit one that didn't quite reach the significance I hoped it would, I have been discussing relationships and not being in one with quite a few friends of mine.

My guy friends are eager to see me out and about with a new one, regardless. Despite what people say I think that Australian men are largely more settled than they would have you believe. A male colleague today asked me, "So why aren't you dating anyone, Soph?"

Of my girlfriends, there are two camps. There are the girls who are fiercely independent and cannot understand why I mourn the past relationship so. From their point of view, most men are lacking. The other camp is of the opinion that if a date does not treat you like a goddess at all points that he is not worth your time. One friend tells me that men in Europe will make sure that you receive attention, regardless of whether you are dating them or just having fun.

As always, I sit perched atop my fence, trying to grasp where my middle of the road path meanders. Every girl who gives advice and every book I have ever read about men essentially paints a picture of games and playing it very cool.

Personally, I'm not that sort of girl. When I fall, I fall flailing with my whole heart and soul. I fall relatively easily I suppose, but I don't go flying for just anyone. My head and heart tell me that unless there is that special something there, it's not worth my time.

I have also been told that maybe my standards are too high. "Too high" encompasses the idea of a man who can give me that joie de vivre in an intellectual, emotional and physical way. What do you think - is needing to be attracted to and love someone 'high standards'?

Pushing the comfort zone

2009-08-24T06:44:00.000-07:00

How many of us live in a zone of comfort, defined by the activities we perform, the friends we have and the places we go? I know so many people who like their lives mapped out by nice little lines into convenient compartments so that nothing gets messy or confusing.

Even though as a Gen-Yer I am of that generation who cannot deal unless we have a new object to look at every 2 seconds, I find myself creating little habits and beginning to spend more and more time cucooned in the comfort of my four walls.

In the interest of keeping myself young and curious, I have decided that I need to push the comfort zone. Not only at the gym (which my cousin keeps hounding me to do) but in other aspects of my life.

I have decided last week's post on the outcome I am afraid of was last weeks challenge. This week, I am volunteering for an event with people I don't know. All I know is, I love Joss Whedon's Serenity and I have heard great reviews of Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, both of which are being played.

So, if anyone wants to meet yours truly pushing her envelope, I will catch you there. Details are below in the flyer. But mostly I entreat you all to keep your own lives fresh and interesting. Pick anything and just do it without hesitation, without over-thinking it. And feel free to post here and let me know when you do!

A Life of Ordinary

2009-08-22T02:16:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to preface this story with a little shout out. Joanna Young of Confident Writing (http://confidentwriting.com/, @joannayoung on Twitter) challenged people last week to write out of their comfort zone. She was talking of a different form or medium. I, however, thought to confront an issue outside my comfort zone. Now, this story is just that. But I wondered if it might be cathartic to confront a number of issues that I want to consider impossible but are entirely possible. I want to show myself that they indeed won't be so bad. So I hope you enjoy. And today I challenge you to admit to something that scares you.

On a hall table, elegantly decorated with a lace runner, is a vase full of flowers from the garden. Every day, when she comes home, she knows those same flowers will be there, unaltered and untouched. In the same way, she knows that if she doesn’t do the dishes or the vacuuming, there is no one to blame, no one to nag, no one to convince to do it but herself.

At the door, her dog, the golden retriever cross she calls Inc (short for Inca) greets her, paws on her chest and a smile on her canine lips. People always argue the point, but she knows dogs smile, just the same way that parents know when their baby smiles it’s not gas. As the door closes, her ashen grey Burmese Burberry winds herself comfortable about her owner’s ankles. Kneeling to pat both her girls, the woman knows she is blessed to have two such good animals to care for.

After a long day tied up in data entry in her role as a copy editor in a small local publication, she is tired and her back and feet are sore. She steps out of the comfortable shoes, leaving them by the door, as she presses the button on her answering machine. The familiar voice of her mother prattling on about her dad watching too much sport and snoozing in his chair is comforting to her. She thinks herself lucky that both her folks are around in their early eighties, and she actively chooses not to think about when they might not be around. They give a nice stability to her life.

She potters around in the kitchen, her lined hands finding everything where she put it last. While her house is not ordered, cluttered being a better word, she can find anything on first try and it is clean. Her small townhouse with a little courtyard that she still only half owns is stuffed with paraphernalia collected since her twenties.

Vegetables cut and put in the oven, she reluctantly puts on her shoes and running gear. Inc, excited, bounds up and down at her feet barking. One lead clip later and they’re out the door. The beautiful lithe figure of the dog and the middle-aged runner pounding the pavement. For both, the release of muscles wound tight with tension brings a sense of joy through the pain. The cool evening air, sea salt in the breeze, calms and relaxes her. She is used to this part of her routine, and it helps her think and process.

Her mind wanders as she runs, thinking of her travels across the world. In her home, pictures of Borneo, Bhutan and Tibet adorn the walls. Her favourite is one a tour guide took for her in Machu Picchu where she stands tall on the top of the world, a smile plastered on her face, independent and triumphant.

She thinks also of the human faces of her life. A beautiful structured black and white image of her brother and his family, dear as they all are to her. One of her goddaughter wrapped tight around her legs one visit. Photos of dear and departed animals in collage on a corkboard in her study sit next to a sunny photo of her nuclear family when she was a child on her desk.

As she wearily opens the front door after her run, she tries to imagine what her life would be if she had settled for one of the men who passed through her life instead of revering the sanctity of her individual happiness. Whether or not she would be coming home to an empty house in any case, devoid of children and husband. Or if it would be a case of boisterous noise, of chaos and arguments, of mess and dirt.

This brings to mind her friends who did just that. The ones now bitter and twisted by divorces, not the bright creatures of yesterday full of hope for relationships and love. Luckily, she had retained her own romantic optimism despite the years creeping past her. She had decided long ago that you had to make yourself happy first.

For as many divorced ones, she has as many happy couples in her life. Her brother being one, happy in his choice of highschool sweetheart. She feels happy knowing that he will be cared for by her devoted sister-in-law and his doting children. Her best friend has a happy marriage and home that she is welcomed in to by all in the family.

While on this imagination trail, she contemplates her career and the decisions she made regarding it. She has changed her career several times, not ever quite sure where she was happy. The job she has suits her for the moment, but she wonders if in a couple of years she will get bored with the daily grind and look for a new one. Given her age, it probably isn’t the option she thinks it is.

She muses on of all the little projects she has left unfinished. The books she had dreamed she would write that have never made it to fruition. Life, friends and other events had just eclipsed the aspects to her life she had once thought important.

Following on from these musings, she asks herself whether she lives what she once would have considered an ordinary life. Less than ordinary even. In her twenties, she had dreams of babies, picket fences and a high flying career. None of these had ever worked out for her, through a series of chances. She had taken on the mantra long ago that what will be, will be.

Truth is, it isn’t as if she doesn’t cry sometimes about it, waking the sweet dog who sleeps beside her bed. A wet nose nuzzles her and the cat curls into her side as she cries. To know that her plans had gone awry, to know those dreams would not happen for her made it hard to accept her life at times.

But when these thoughts arose she countered them with thoughts of all of the reasons her life was worth living. The cups of coffee with friends on a Saturday, the joy of a perfect copy, content in the brushing of a dog who adored her, the sweetness of a purring cat on her lap as she read curled in a corner on her lounge. Of quick genuine smiles when she volunteered as an English tutor for kids who had so much less and had witnessed much suffering.

All in all, she thought as she entered her house to the aroma of roasting vegetables, a life less than ordinary was still a life. A life where tomorrow presented an opportunity was more than some had and she for one was grateful.

Gender identity

2009-08-20T00:35:00.000-07:00

Many of you will know that the issue of gender identification is one close to my heart. The horror of it all is that not even biology can truly account for what you feel and present as.

This is why I read with horror that they are "gender testing" female South African runner, Caster Semenya. For anyone not in the know, they did gender testing on a number of female athletes in the 1960s. The trouble with gender testing is that it may reveal that you are not, on a genetic level, female.

Let's disregard the impact that it has on your choice of career as a professional sportswoman. Instead, think about the impact it would have on you as a woman. With these tests, you can be told that your whole identity is a lie. That you will never have children. Not to mention the way people will look at you and react to you, for the genes you inherited.

I can imagine the stigma from this testing would change women's attitudes to themselves and may lead to serious emotional implications. I'm disappointed to see this regression in the sporting community, especially when the International Olympic Committee banned it last century.

When will we get past the need for gender boxes? Drug test, sure, but gender testing? Not on!

Life's shifts

2009-08-19T05:30:00.000-07:00

Life is made up of shifting sands, the unstable ground of changing fortunes and times of remodelling. How much can any plans we make today be solid, set down and solidified?

Where does that leave the liquid nature of dreams? The hopes that you want to build upon the shifting foundations that are your life?

When a force changes the dreams you're shaping, like a wind sweeping away the little grains of hope you'd started to accumulate, moulding together with your blood, sweat and tears, it is hard not to be demoralised.

Tomorrow, the new dreams must start. Sometimes there's little else you can do but abandon them, however reluctantly. Don't tell me about new beginnings, I just started again, but I am picking up the pieces once more.

Why isn't it just easy?

Exploitation of loss

2009-08-16T02:10:00.000-07:00

What is it about us as a society that we want to watch the horror stories, the train wrecks and the worst side of life? These are the stories that fill our newspapers, our news sites, our discussion boards.

I am watching the story of Brenda Lin, the young girl who lost her parents, 2 younger brothers and live-in aunt in a brutal murder. She is being interviewed on 60 minutes about how she and her family are enduring the aftermath.

I don't know about any of you, but I wouldn't be coping if I woke up one day to my family being murdered. I highly doubt I could get out of bed, let alone talk to someone in the media about it. Further torture is assured, given that the police have no suspects or anyone in custody.

Personally, I cannot account for the reason I watched. Perhaps I too like to see what is going on, even if it is bad. From the bottom of my heart, I offer condolences to Brenda Lim and all their family. It is a tragic circumstance. I also hope they catch those people that cold-blooded clubbed a family to death. Otherwise, I hope the media leaves alone this poor brave family who are just struggling to deal with their grief and get on with life.

Personally, I am sick of the bad news weeks. Can we have a good news week for once?

Listening to our inner child

2009-08-15T07:49:00.000-07:00

In my head, I had two entries picked out to blog on tonight. There were pictures I was going to hunt down, phrases I was going to use, points of view I was going to utilise. My soapbox was primed and ready for the hopefully somewhat enlightening or witty or emotive prose I was going to send in to cyberspace.

However, my head is whirling with emotions about an issue I am dealing with at the moment. Within the spiralling depression, the harsh self-recriminations and the swirling anger, somewhere there is the little girl in me who still hopes. My realism is a tenuous balance of my (non-clinical) depression and the tenacity of the little Sophie who dreams of a better world. This child-like visage of me is the one who sees the happy endings, the better side of people and doesn't ever quite give up.

How often do we forget to listen to the inner voice that tells us that it is ok to hope, to dream, to love? That begs us to forgive instead of holding on to the anger, feeling justified in our jaded beliefs because someone has let us down before and we learnt our lesson. When we get knocked down and beaten by the world, that inner voice strokes our proverbial hair and says, "It's ok. Don't cry.".

I wish at this moment I could channel the energy into a productive past time - like emo poetry or the novel I keep neglecting. Only, I keep feeding the storm, being grown up and tortured. Little Sophie, I wish I could listen and just live for now and tomorrow.

It was all so much less complicated when I was a child.

A leader in your own right

2009-08-11T04:57:00.000-07:00

It was much to my disgust that I regarded the news of today about Hillary Clinton's retort to a young man in Congo about what her husband's opinions were.

I am not perturbed by her treatment of the young man, but more that she should be vilified in the media for reminding someone that she was a leader and politician of note in her own right.

On a mission aimed at improving the lives of women in a region of the world, why should one question reflecting the antiquated societal values in the Congo be given any sort of merit?

I agree that the question was answered with less finesse than she as a practised politician must be capable of. I also understand it was a translator error, which is also understandable.

And surely it is of some consequence that her husband, while doing something good for two young girls in North Korea, yet again overshadowed her attempts to do good. While I respect former president, he certainly seems to act with passive aggression where his wife is concerned.

What I want you all to focus on is this: Hillary Clinton is a respectable politician, who has showed strength of character in the past and a desire to do some good for others. Why would you seek to bring down a strong female role model on a matter which barely rates the discussion it's received?

Media.. shame on you.

Escaping the rat race

2009-08-10T04:28:00.000-07:00

This evening, as I muse away here from the safety of my couch, I wonder about the small little habits we all pick up to help us cope in the relative uncertainty the world has to offer. I have friends that pick at their skin, or eat a ton of bad food (ok, that could be me too), or go into their little hidey holes and refuse to come out.

My little peccadillo is I read. To get so involved in a book, it is almost like the characters are flesh and blood and drift around me, but I get to feel what they're thinking down to the minutest detail. They become my friends and my family, the reason for existing. Words on the page are more real to me some days than my own existence. That world drowns out the one I am unhappy with. My favourite author for distraction is Jodi Picoult. A word of warning. My headspace is not pretty when her books come out.

But I laugh and I cry, and at the end of it, I come out thinking that maybe I can cope and perhaps the world is not all bad. After all, people can't be all bad if they inspire some of the characters in her novels. It gives me a chance to take a much needed time out, refocus and slip easily back into the life I don't know how to deal with some days..

Now if only I could translate that to some more action...

So tell me, my web wonders, how do you cope?

Escaping from the world - such a beautiful photo from Chris Radburn, from the Guardian.co.uk.

Landscape of possibility

2009-08-07T06:03:00.001-07:00

Today I have been in a bit of a morose mood (ok, the last couple of days) and have been thinking about the landscape of my life.

I'm thinking about the experiences that have made me the girl who I am, and if I were a map, what they would translate to in structures on a landscape.

I think I would be scarred and pitted, by the hurts, and the slights, and the disappointments. There would be the mountain of my intellect, the hilled suburbs of my compassions, the seas of my insecurities and a lake of loneliness.

Dreaming Downs would be high value real estate as a growth area. Sciencetown is no longer the boom town it once was, and is looking kind of shabby even. Travelville is only the basic building materials and seems to have been halted in progress for no apparent reason.

I think of the beautiful gardens and lush reserves, of the great theatres and artistic monuments. The furnishings of my friends, making the map beautiful and liveable. The basic artistry of the landscape being what my family sculpted out.

I am a map, and all roads lead to the centre and very soul of me. I have nothing to hide and nothing of which to be ashamed. View as you will, follow my ins and outs. I only hope I can be of some use.

Watch out for those hot spots!

From http://home.claranet.nl/users/naororo/atlas/SB-at-m-news.html

Face of the downturn

2009-07-29T00:51:00.000-07:00

For those of you unacquainted with the delightfulness that is Glenferrie Road here in Melbourne, I am going to tell you of the little street in the heart of Armadale that I fell in love with when I first arrived here.

Glenferrie Road, specifically the portion between the Princess Highway/Dandenong Road and High Street, is a beautiful little shopping strip in the eastern inner parts of Melbourne. It has an array of lovely little boutique shops, some beautiful eateries of most sorts you could imagine and some necessaries (supermarkets and the like).

With the global economic downturn hitting at all levels, I haven't been surprised to see a number of the smaller and more specialised shops closing. Imagine my dismay though, when my favourite little florist, the first one I actually ever fell in love with, closed down. It has been followed by a number of other shops I actually promised myself I would patron but never did. And it seems to be getting worse, every tenth shop is now a bleak and empty window face.

But the interesting part is that new shops seem to be springing into different places. I am actually seeing a different kind of shop replacing multiples of the shops that were there before. I wonder whether there is just an inevitable pruning that needs to take place to shape our little economic haven and change the face of industry.

Still Glenferrie lives on, and I for one am going to take advantage of it. Coffee and brunch, hurrah! Happy Sunday everyone!

Sometimes Day (poem)

2009-07-25T01:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes
I notice how blue the sky is
How the sunshine golden
The way flowers dance in the wind

Sometimes
I find joy in the simple things
In my favourite song playing
As the wind rushes through my hair

Sometimes
I’m glad I’m in the world
And I feel the world is ultimately good
And somewhere, someday, I’ll find love.

Sometimes
People surprise me
And a smile is genuine
And all problems can be solved with a hug.

Sometimes
I find I’m right
About the beauty of the world
And I want more sometimes days
Sometimes…

Irrational anger

2009-07-25T01:23:00.000-07:00

Do you know those times when a wave of anger rises from somewhere behind you, reaching right up over your head, sending you sprawling in a tide of fury that you just can't seem to find your feet in so that you can regain your normally calm rationale?

The sort of ire that rushes through your veins, pushing outwards into your chest and shoulders, making your heart beat an irregular beat of wartime, drumming upwards, straight into your brain which comes alive with hate.

Rage rises within you, pushing the mercury higher, making you wish you had something or someone to take it out on, to blame for the black mood crushing the bright spots in your soul. With tension building and no one to take it out on, a lot of us get angry with those closest or turn it on ourselves.

Worst part about the whole mood is that it has not much to do with anyone else but you, and if you can't narrow down the root of the problem, it's only going to idle in your consciousness, building strength until the slightest touch sends steam streaming from our ears and some vicious diatribe from the open orifice of adjar mouthes. Then it catches, like a roaring flame, in the other person who's inadvertantly set us off. And so starts the wildfire of indignation and hurt.

Tonight, I'm trying to narrow it down the factor stirring my temper. Is it the lack of contact with others today, or the endless cleaning and unpacking that waits for me to finish my whinging? Is it the waiting for something to happen or a frustration with myself for being slack and waiting for things to happen to me? I don't know. If anyone can figure me out, go for it, because right now I'm clueless.

And the only thing that I know right now: I don't want to pass it on. Help!

Image borrowed from: http://www.businesspundit.com/how-anger-helps-businesses-and-politicians-gain-consumers/

I'd like to know you

2009-07-19T04:18:00.000-07:00

A friend sent me a beautiful song by Lisa Hannigan named I don't know. It seems to be such an appropriate song for me at the moment.

I have a number of new friends that I have made online, plus a boy who I adore and hope will become an even larger (and more important) part of my life. As with every friendship, every acquaintance, every relationship, it takes a while to get to know people. And I am relishing the opportunity to know a bunch of fantastic new people who reaffirm my faith in the goodness and beauty of the world.

Ms Hannigan makes lists of things that people might not ask necessarily, such as whether you're better in the morning or when the sun goes down. It is these little details that make up an individual, make them tick, set them apart from others. It is awesome to know whether your friends are afraid of spiders or only drink tea or love the natural about the world.

So this is a little shout out to my newer friends. Welcome to the madness that is me, and I look forward to getting to know your little details.

I hope you will all become as dear to me as these 3 girls. Love you guys my Miskin misfits!

(I also make no promises of smooching!)

Insomniac inspirations

2009-07-18T07:54:00.000-07:00

In the stillness of the early morning, there is a kind of peace. The hustle and bustle of the world has passed away and most of the world slumbers. The rest of the world except for me.

Here I am in my own little hole in the wall. Outside, the wind rushes and rattles my door. There is nothing but me and those sounds. A little piece of tranquility and a little piece of hell.

When it reaches the witching hour, people are asleep. Some on the other side of the world are awake, but my instant message relationships with them are not what they once were. Not to mention, they leave you a little unfulfilled. A relationship based entirely on the truthes one wants to tell are just not as real as the ones you get where people are exposed in their beautiful flawed glory.

Most of you who know me know I am a social person. I could talk all hours of the day and night (literally, apparently I sleep talk and giggle). The torture of insomnia is that I have no one to talk to, to share with. This may change when the boy shows up, in that he will be here to annoy and I may also sleep then.. who knows?

Until then, my absent friends, sleep long, dream sweetly beside the ones you love and tomorrow understand when I don't surface for a good long while. While I wait for sleep and rest to finally tackle me to the ground.

What sickness reveals

2009-07-14T23:35:00.000-07:00

Sickness is the great tragedy of our existence. I suppose it lets you know when you've pushed things too far, when it's time to slow down. It reveals alot about our personalities and our capacity for operating on a normal basis when we're in pain or feel low. It has been a topic greatly discussed with my boy of late, who has been laid up for months.

People reveal alot of themselves when sick. You know whether they will be a bad patient, or they will be staid and just keep on smiling through the tears. Speaking for myself, I go childlike and whingy. At least I do with minor illnesses, a major one hasn't hit me yet.

It also uncovers the nature of the people you gather around you. The characters of your friends, their sympathy and compassion, is revealed when they either come and support you, or keep their distance until you are conveniently well again. Generally, your parents will care for you if they can, and I'd like to hope we care for them as they age, but I suspect this is less often the case. Regardless, it is important to remember how a half an hour visit can mean so much, like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise overcast day.

With these trials, I wonder if you thin the acquaintences from the real herd of friends you have. Or the family you can rely on from those flighty ones. It is in my nature to be a sympathetic and compassionate person, and I really hope this is whom I attract to my side. In the event of an illness I am having trouble shifting, I hope that all my friends near or far will be around to remind me of just how wonderful life is.

Diametric days

2009-07-12T03:51:00.000-07:00

It is funny how diametrically opposed a day can be. It has weighed on my mind after this weekend. The morning was beautiful, I practically sparkled as I danced down the pavement, a song on my lips and a laugh in my throat. The terrible thing was there was no one to share it with immediately. This weekend I was wandering about just wanting to reach out and get in touch with people. And I just felt a bit alone. Well I was quite physically alone at the time, which is a hard thing to achieve, even in wintery Melbourne.

Part of the hangover of my self-esteem issues is I don’t want to bombard people with me in my full blemished and misshaped glory. Speaking metaphorically about my personality of course. I believe everyone is out enjoying their own life, so I will give them the space to do that. I also want to ensure that they do actually enjoy spending time with me, because nothing could be worse than cultivating a relationship of sorts and finding out that they really don’t enjoy spending time with me.

So there I was – completely in my head listening to every insecurity, every fear, every piece of advice I’d ever heard on the reciprocal nature of friendships/relationships. My finger poised over the dial button, torn by the commands of the over-thinking part of my brain telling me to keep it together and keep my pride, and the part of my brain telling me it was ok, that I could rely on the feelings I knew those people had for me.

In the end, self-preservation and fear won. But it was one of those lose-lose situations, because I was still alone, and instead of feeling like I had come out the other side of a victory, I felt more alone and insecure than before.

And you know what? That phone never rang.

The worse part is that I just want to embrace life, happiness and everything. But as with all people, the crippling fear and doubt holds me back, mostly because I let it. I thought I was stronger than this, stronger than my doubts and the internal monologue that dragged me down for so long. I'm hoping it is just a momentary relapse, but I need to take some time and center again, remember to love a little.

For those of you that can, please embrace your lives today. Take a deep breath, give it all, take it all and just live. We only have one life and it is just too short to waste.

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true...

Passenger seat parables

2009-07-12T01:15:00.000-07:00

From my safe and secure childhood, I can remember many occasions of night driving, scooting south along the highway under the canopy of stars. I can recall resting my head on the pillow as the world flew past, but feeling safe and warm.

Listening today to Passenger Seat by Death Cab for Cutie, it occurred to me that without it being one of my parents driving, I may not have been so comfortable. I have been on a few road trips where other people have driven and those people included a dear friend/former lover, my little brother and close friends. These people, I could happily take a nap, secure that they would carry me safely to my destination, and if not, at least I would be in excellent company.

The open road seems to bring out the philosopher, dreamer and sleeper in me. While the world whirls past, I will discuss the world, my emotions, any topic that comes to mind. I feel safe discussing these topics while we don't pause, while there is an immediacy and stillness in the car. My mind also reaches for the places I want to be, where I hope to be, the futures that lay out in an array possibilities for both myself and for the world. And lastly, when exhausted, I fall into dreaming sleep, where the world is all I believed and I am held safely away from the worst there is.

Most of the time, we are in the car with our families, with our significant other. Maybe this is a chance to reconnect, share hopes and dreams. Better yet, dream on together. Dream a world that we want to see while we head home. So dream on my friends, safe with those you love, and give us all a better tomorrow.

Looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between
Shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as
You are driving me home

"Do they collide?"
I ask, and you smile
My feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter

~Lyrics, Passenger seat - Death Cab for Cutie~

Picture is my gorgeous car and pretty friend Alexis on our road trip to the Twelve Apostles.

Sex for the sexes

2009-07-08T03:38:00.000-07:00

This was a random thought I had while padding around the other night, wishing for a phone call. I know it has probably has been discussed to death, but I just thought I would just put it out into the cyberverse once more.

Men and women have such different uses and requirements for sex. It's just ironic humour of some being out there, determining such polar opposites from beings that need to share it (excluding those who share that act and a sex - lucky them).

Being a woman, I'm feeling free to comment on this. For the most part, the women I know enjoy sex for the intimacy it brings (the results are an extra special bonus). We like the unguarded moments that post-coitus brings.

Men, from what I've been told, enjoy the pure physicality of the sex, the gratification. For men, they need the sex to get to the relationship part - the part that's important for women. If they even get to that.

I am not saying there is not elements of both in people of either gender. But, for the most part, we certainly don't seem to view this act in the same way.

I actually think it's tragic and rather sad. Such a beautiful and fundamental way to communicate, skin to skin, without words. And what do we do with it? Use it as a weapon, withold it as an emotional punishment (for both of you), just using callously and without discretion.

I miss sex. So I beg of you, those of you having it, please don't take it for granted. Embrace that loved one, touch them with all of you that you can. Do it for those of us that miss it, and for your own happiness (and that of your partner) and wellbeing. Love like you don't need need to. Just because it's fun!

Intimacy, as it should be, with laughter and fun. Image borrowed from www.misbehaving.net

Ode to a boy

2009-07-07T06:11:00.000-07:00

Those eyebrows question me
Quoting back at me
The little truthes I've let slip
Punctuating my sentences
Staccato when he stares
With big eyes seeing through me
Clingfilm against the light
Seeing through to the
Very soul of what I am saying
And what I am not saying
I cannot hide
And I rather like it
Rumbling laughter
Stirs up my giggles
Which please most of all
I laugh not at him
Or even with him
But for the joy of him

I would give my poetry
Meager though it is
An ode to a boy
He would give his kingdom
For just a heat pack
I would give mine
For a repeat of the summer

To love enough

2009-07-03T05:39:00.000-07:00

I was just watching the end of 'Rumour Has It' where there is another Hollywood ending with shots of a big white wedding. As if this solves their problems and takes away the sting of what went before.

I have never been married. I have never been close to being married. I might have been close once, if I'd been asked. With every boy I've been involved with, I've imagined marrying them. It's just how my mind works. But here I am at 25 wondering how people get to that point.

Marriage is a huge commitment. You pledge to honour and protect, love and cherish. Some vows even say to guide and obey (good luck in holding me to that, lucky man who eventually gets me..). You give your word. Thinking about this, and the rate of divorce, you begin to wonder exactly how much our word means in these times.

In our consumerist society, we seem to get caught up in the trappings. You must have a decent dress, a decadent cake and a lavish reception. If perfection is not attained, you have failed at the wedding business. What rot.

Regardless, it seems to me that a marriage is not the solution to relationship problems. Just because there is a piece of paper saying you belong to each other, doesn't mean that it will bind you. More often, it seems that certificate seals the fate of an already tenuous link.

There needs to be more thought, more planning, more knowing before you agree to nuptials. Surely you want to ensure your own and your partner's life-long happinesses. Everyone needs to go in with eyes and hearts wide open. Open to both to loving the idiosyncrasies of our partners, and to the possibility of the rest of our lives growing together with this one person.

For me, I hope that when I get there one day, I can give this institution the respect it deserves. I want to stand across from that chosen man and say those vows with my whole heart, knowing I intend to keep my word, both to myself and to him. Whether I do it in an old dress, a new one, a fancy one or a blue one, the only part I care about and intend to ensure are the words springing happily from my mouth:

I do.

I hope we can all leap happily into our futures hand-in-hand with our partners, seeing clearly and excitedly where we're going and where we want to be, sinking or swimming together.

This beautiful image is from a photographer named Mary King in the UK (www.marykingphotography.co.uk/weddings.html)

The first man to steal my heart

2009-07-02T03:13:00.000-07:00

I have been listening to the Hack broadcast on Triple J in this man week (site: http://www.abc.net.au/triplej/hack/, forum: http://au.reachout.com/connect/forums/), and it has been quite thought provoking. Part of today's discussion revolved around men who hadn't known their fathers. It is a very relevant and distressing topic.

But what about the boys who never knew their mothers? Mothers generally help us to become tender, loving people. They guide us without words, offering their ears and their arms to relieve us of our troubles. They know when we're happy or distraught or doing wrong. How do these motherless boys develop? Do they grow up without that rudder, that guide on how to love unconditionally?

This topic is particularly close to my heart. For those of you that don't know me personally, my father lost his mother tragically at a young age. He was lucky, he came from a large family, with older siblings, and he was 15. My father is an exceptionally gentle, kind, caring and generous man. I know no tenderer man. I think this was always his nature, but I wonder how much of his family orientation was caused by the passing of his mother. I also know the loss still plagues him, as it does his brother and sisters.

Also, in my family, I believe my brother is closest to my mother. She is the only one he will open up to, discuss his troubles with. And believe me, this is important. My brother was a bit of a troubled child - tantrums, hyperactivity, a bit of misbehaviour and a whole lot of not understanding the dangers of the world. He doesn't say alot (in fact, those friends of mine who know him, would verify he says very little). I attribute the work of both my parents in moulding him so he could become the quite lovely young man he is becoming today.

I know it doesn't always happen, but I hope for all those boys without their mothers that they have role models who will help care for them, console them and guide them to their path. Maybe we should all think about our community impact and start volunteering for little brothers or sisters.. A worthwhile cause, and you help someone who might otherwise not get a good start in life. Please take a look at the Big Brothers Big Sisters website if you might be interested (http://www.bigbrothersbigsisters.org.au/home/).

In the meantime, I might appreciate the men in my life this week, from my friends to my brother, my grandfather to the first man who stole my heart and will hold a piece of it always - my father.

Thanks Dad, for showing me what the meaning of "a good man" is,

and the sort of love I am capable and deserving of.

Love you always.

Social Responsibility

2009-07-01T04:25:00.000-07:00

It seems to me that this story has slipped down between the crack and has been swept under the rug of our apathy. I am referring to the Palestinian woman recently convicted of being an Israeli spy.

In my news avoidance existence, I only stumbled across this story in newspaper on Saturday. I will preface the rest of this blog with the statement that I don't agree with putting your countrymen in jeopardy in a time of war. But there must be some onus on society to take care of its own.

This story is one of the sad ones. A girl married without her consent to a man too old and depraved. Abused by the man charged by the vows he took to take care of her, her husband, she was forced into prostitution. She was brave enough to undergo a divorce from a man who clearly did not have her best interests at heart.

Turned away by her family for the disgrace of the divorce, this woman got by, not an easy task in a society where this sort of behaviour is shunned. She met a man who took her on a trip, who probably excited her with possibilities, and who turned out to be another of those who would use her and betray her. Blackmailers threatened to ruin the little corner of existence she had eked out. I honestly don't know what I would do in her situation.

The court even said none of her information had lead to anyone being hurt. She cooperated and confessed as fast as they could take it down. I am glad she was given some leniency, life in prison I believe. To think of life in a cell a blessing..

I have thought about this over and over. Look at the circumstances that brought her to this. A desperation when all those who were supposed to care for her used her for their own gain. She was but a pawn in the games and machinations of men. I am sure she will be used by the feminist movement in Palestine, an example of how those men charged with a woman's wellbeing fail to take adequate care. This poor girl was used so terribly, and will continue to be used to further other's agendas.

My bet is, she was a girl who dreamed of a marriage to a man who loved her, with children and a home. Getting old with her siblings, talking to her mother with a babe balanced on her knee. Even to dream of being tucked away from the ravages of war. Society crushed her dreams, and failed to extend a hand when she faltered. Each Palestinian needs to acknowledge the role they all played in her downfall.

Me.. my prayers are with that frightened woman, and I hope that her life will be easier now. Please keep dreaming, there is always a better tomorrow..

Thanks to http://www.presstv.ir/ for the photograph.

Second chances

2009-06-29T03:46:00.000-07:00

I'm a great believer in second chances where they're warranted. My trouble is I am a tenderheart who often sees the rosier best in people whether they deserve it or whether they really are the better version of themselves.

Here I am, standing on the edge of an opportunity both that terrifies me with excitement and exhilirates me as much as it frightens me. I believe in second chances, but I never thought I would be giving this a second chance. I had for a moment fireworks and sparks, but with the passing into the new year, they fizzled out again, and all was the disappointment in the new year's come down of the years before.

And yet, here I am, contemplating a course of action I thought closed to me. Here is the truth. For once, I am actually doing this for me. For the sparks that fly, for the excitement and the thrills, for holding onto that dream we have for the new and shiny lives on the other side of the new year.

It is not someone else I am giving a chance. I am giving myself a chance at the happiness and excitement I know I deserve. For once, I am doing it wholly and solely, selfishly for me. Holding fast to the shiny. A second chance for what I wanted more than anything..

So wish me luck...

Here's to fireworks and fun!

Little bits of peace

2009-06-23T04:18:00.000-07:00

I do recall, not so long ago, sitting, watching some birds in the sky, making peace with a decision that was completely out of my hands. Somehow, I felt those birds in the sky were a message, and as I thought that, I remembered the little adage:

If you love something

Set it free

If it returns

It will always be yours

If it doesn't

Then it was never yours to begin with

Sometimes I think you have to just believe in the great wheel that is time and the universe. While it may seem like it's unbearable for the moment, it too shall pass. And there is almost always some other path you can take.

Ode to a friend

2009-06-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

Warning: Emo poetry below. Avert your eyes should you care.

Dear little one

With coat of brown

Like chocolate

(which you loved)

Dear friend of mine

Who once ran like the wind

And bounded deer-like

Through the long grass

Most cherished heart

Who would sit at the

Foot of the bed

Just to be near me

Little loved one

With amber eyes

That always understood

Full of love

Silken eared pet

Who listened for us

Always greeted us

Like prodigal sons

Wet brown nose

That always knew

When to sniff your hand

To warm the heart

Little Bambi

With manners fine

A coat of wool

And temperment sweet

Little canine sister

Who I loved dear

May your rest be sweet

And there be no more pain

May you have known

How loved you were

And that we will never

Let your memory fade

I hope one day

We meet once more

And I can hold you

With love again

Rest in peace Bambi darling, 20/6/2009, 15 years of age (105 dog years).

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey, you'll never now dear, how much I loved you, please don't take my sunshine away.

A sweet story

2009-06-19T02:47:00.000-07:00

My two best girls here in Melbourne are my cousin (well technically, she's my third step cousin) and my former room mate. When I was to introduce them, I was terrified. Let me paint a picture...

Nirvana (a.k.a. Na) is gorgeous, blonde-haired, blue-eyed. She's tall, fit and can be a handful, much as I love her. She's the sort of girl who will start a conversation at a billion kilometers an hour and continue for an age, but always in an entertaining way. In some social situations she will act a bit ditzy but she has a brilliant brain for chemistry, fitness and nutrition. She is full of life, a really bubbly and vivacious person. Her background is one of entitlement and private schooling, but she has the values of a bygone generation and is equally charming to everyone she meets. Loyal as the day is long if you show her a real and genuine friendship, and trying to help everyone live a happier and healthier life. She certainly has begun working her magic on me.

Kelly is a sassy, independent girl, with a quick wit and underneath the hard exterior, a heart of pure gold. A girl with a penchant for shoes and scarves, she walked into my life at the Portsea Hotel and has not stopped telling me off since, whether it's about wasting my money, allowing the wrong boys to get to me, or my atrocious time management skills. She sobs in sad movies while telling me she has the romantic range of a teaspoon, is a hopeless romantic while professing to never expect that for herself, has a soft spot for tradies and is endlessly generous. Kelly comes from a working class background, so she's pretty organised and efficient. That being said, she's as bad with boys as I am.

The day I went to introduce these two girls was the day Na was having a party at her house. Kell and I had cleaned our house to be, and were tired, but I had decided today was the day for introductions. I was worried about what sort of mood we would find Na in, and whether Kell would find her completely ridiculous. Of course, this was completely unfounded. Nirvana only answered the door in a white sundress and heels, wearing an apron, while wielding a feather duster. I was certain this friendship would never have a chance. I don't remember how the encounter ended on this day but luckily they hit it off. Whether it was Na's bubbly nature and funny self-deprication that appealed to Kell and whether Nirvana appreciated Kell's self sufficiency and sassiness, they now get along like a house on fire.

These girls took me out for dinner for my birthday, and as we were chatting, I realised how strange it was that this little trio are so close. If it's the girls railing at me to give up my rose coloured glasses ("boys are not people"), or Kell and I despairing at Na ("Oh Nirvana!"), or Nirvana and I begging Kelly to give up her wicked cupcake ways, we have a really fun group dynamic. Whatever they say to me, or I to them, I know that it is taken in the spirit it was said - with caring and concern (or for amusement). These girls are unfailingly there for me when I've needed them.

But we are all so different. And I have always agreed with the "It takes all sorts" mentality, but through my friendships with these women, I have begun to realise that it really does. Most important of all, I have come to realise I don't always need to share a background or a world view to be good friends with a person.

So I just want to say, thanks girls. I love you two, and thanks for all the laughs.

Things to be grateful for in a quarter century

2009-06-18T06:55:00.000-07:00

This is not going to be much of post tonight. Suffice to say, here is a list of things I am grateful for in my 25 years.

Friends and family
More specifically, two girls, a bottle and a half of Wirra Wirra Cabernet Shiraz, a -whole lot- of talking, excellent food (Thanks Kell and Na for making my birthday wonderful)
Being spoilt (seriously, you should see my loot!)
Chocolate
Hot chocolate
BOOKS (not sure if this should go higher.. might be equal with chocolate and friends..)
Love and romance
Puppies
Sunshine
Music that makes you happy (<>The interwebs
Being pretty damn it and completely worthy of everything good.
In me: my rose-coloured glasses (Kell and Na, you may mock, but its one thing I like about me)
My awesome skeelz
My charmed life

You know, my life is charmed. I may be ungrateful for parts of it but I am a lucky, lucky girl. So goodnight friends. May you each have as much to be grateful for as me.

Taking a little time

2009-06-16T06:11:00.000-07:00

Today was a day I had to remind myself to take a little time to make myself happy. The last couple of days I have been struggling.

It is the little bits and pieces that make you happy. Fresh tumble dried laundry, a nice warm and homecooked meal, a good book. Just a little gesture to make you happy.

If you have a loved one, it is the gestures that are important. A clean house, happy children, a nice meal. And for the significant other who worked hard to have a nice home for you to come to, how about a foot rub or massage?

My little kindess to myself was my favourite gym class, some flowers, a favourite meal and a night sitting with my favourite TV show on. The sheets are tumbling as we speak and I am just about ready for bed. The only thing that could add to this is a nice boy ready to cuddle me as I fall asleep, but that will come eventually.

So I hope tonight, you all show yourselves and your loved ones a little kindness, because you're worth it.

Take time to stop and smell the roses, or in my case, flowers..

When you're not yourself

2009-06-15T06:52:00.000-07:00

I don't know what has been in the water this last little while, but I have not totally been myself. The me I perceive myself to be is happy-go-lucky, with a few dark moments that generally wash away within a short period.

What I think happened is I just got lost. Utterly and completely lost. An almost contact from someone I expected to be gone from my life set me askew, then work stress almost completely toppled me.

So please, ignore today and let me just get on with it tomorrow. I will see you in the evening with lots of love. For now, I sleep, and will see you all upon the morrow. May it be a brighter day, amongst a field of pretty flowers, for you all.

A place for vanity

2009-06-14T05:20:00.000-07:00

Vanity has received a bit of bad press in recent times. Possibly because it is closely linked with that pesky deadly sin - pride. I too had been against it, thinking that you should love the person in entirity and not focus so wholy on the external.

Since focusing on my health and inadvertantly the whole side benefit of losing weight, I've found that I check myself in most reflective surfaces. Now you might be thinking terribly of me, but a little bit of vanity is key for my progression.

Just to explain. I have always been the chubby girl at school/work/university. The one who struggled endlessly with her health and her weight. I have had low self-esteem for a long time and very negative self-talk. My biggest hurdle was my apathy and general lack of faith in myself to improve the situation.

This year, I decided that I was going to turn it all around. No particular factor, but I decided my focus in 2009 would be to improve the parts of my life that I thought needed improving. Me and no one else. Mostly, it was improving my health and fitness, and not thinking about weight loss at all (because that has never worked for me in the past). It also included improving my dedication to my writing and the associated skills, which I started this blog to work on.

My cousin Nirvana (well, we're related by marriage, and there's a third there somewhere, but for all intensive purposes, she's my cousin) set me on the right track this year. A former personal trainer, she cajoled, demanded and encouraged me into the gym. She monitored what I was buying for dinner and made me gorgeous fresh salads. I actually attribute to her the role of catalyst in my journey towards a healthier me.

I now not only have the kick start I needed, but am starting to see the results of my hard work, small though they are. A little looseness in the clothes here, a little tautness in the muscle there and I am feeling proud of myself. It is how I remind myself that I am actually successfully doing what I set out to do. For the first time in a long time, I am immensely proud of myself.

So while to the outside, I'm the vain girl who looks at herself in shiny surfaces and admires her body by running her hands over the more shapely legs and hips, I am the girl who is learning that results are part of their own reward. So I encourage everyone today to show a little pride in themselves, and damn it, sing a little bit of "I'm so vain" while they're at it!

And thanks Na. My world is all the better because of you!

Isn't she gorgeous? This is my cousin Nirvana, my daily inspiration. I mean, where else can you roll a relative, dietician and bestie into one package?

The woman out of the picture

2009-06-13T08:31:00.000-07:00

It seems so often that behind a great man is a woman, keeping everything running and in ship-shape. I have always wondered whether these are happy marriages, where one person has all the glory and the other all the strain.

I came across an article in the Melbourne Age today (For the love of Gala, by Andrew Stephens - http://www.theage.com.au/news/entertainment/arts/for-the-love-of-gala/2009/06/12/1244664839594.html) talking about how Gala, Dali's wife, appeared to be everything to him. From all accounts, she was his muse, his critic, his agent, manager, friend and lover. Whatever she had about her, she kept Dali in line but remained detached from his glory.

Now, I am not saying that she was the reason Dali was a progressive and prolific painter, but it certainly helps you to succeed when you have a significant other who is the right mix of involved, supportive and critical beside you all the way.

I've had one boyfriend like that in some ways. One that would believe in me until the bitter end. I am starting to wonder though, who has a relationship like this? Do any of you, my readers?

And what of the partner? It has been 25 years since Dali passed away, and his paintings will probably still continue to be popular. Gala appears in many of them, but will her significance be lost? And what of her life? Did she often feel as if she stood in the shadow, and was she fine with that role? From this article, it seems as if she was, but unfortunately, I don't believe we'll ever know.

Photo borrowed from: www.myspace.com/iamnotmad

An apology to the NGV

2009-06-13T08:10:00.000-07:00

Just before I get into another discussion of Salvador Dali, I want to issue a retraction in regards to my Salvador Dali post. The $95 AUD I saw was for an event, and it is actually $23 AUD to see the show. So appropriate seeing as he was one for bringing art to the lay person.

Check out http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/dali/#id=Dali&num=01 for more details.

Thanks to Steven Herod for pointing that out to me.

And yay, because now I get to go and see it!

P.S. Did anyone else know he designed the Chupa-Chup logo?

Art ostracism

2009-06-09T20:09:00.000-07:00

With my birthday coming up, I was looking for a special outing to take myself off to. While maybe not a once in a lifetime event (that will be launching myself out of an aeroplane strapped to a big burly man, at a later date), I was hoping for an excursion that would stimulate my brain and be exciting.

Imagine my thrill when I heard there was Salvador Dali exhibit coming to the National Gallery of Victoria. While I may not be an art aficianado, I do know that his work has provoked alot of thought and discussion. Plus, he's pretty famous and I was sure it would be worth a look at least once.

So when I visited the gallery for free on Sunday, I picked up the brochure. Now, before I go any further, I am appreciative of the costs of putting on an exhibition. I am certain it is a horrendously expensive affair. Costs certainly need to be recuperated. However, the price to go into the exhibit is $95 AUD for an adult.

Call me a miser, but I can think of a thousand different activities I could do, and purchases I could make, with that kind of money. If it had been around the $50 mark, I would still have been hesitant to go but for an international artist I would have swallowed all my middle-class instincts and splurged (after all, it is my birthday).

Now I would never call myself an economist, but surely there is some weight to the argument that to get more people through, hence generating more money for the gallery, the price should be of a reasonable level. I am saying reasonable because I am on a fairly decent wage, have no other huge expenditures and have a good disposable portion to my income. That sort of money would let me buy a microwave, which is an item I do need.

It completely puts international art outside the reaches of those with modest wages. Life in Melbourne is so expensive as it is, and to even want to go to an exhibit like this would take weeks (or months, depending on your level of poverty) of saving. It seems like art snobbery, denying those without good jobs an opportunity to admire this artist. Especially those struggling artists who might learn exciting new techniques or implement ideas from this man's work. Or some who might take other inspiration from his work.

And so, sadly, I might have to give this a miss, much to my immense disappointment. Even if all I end up doing is staring blankly out my window into the view....

From Salvador Dali's works, Figure at a Window, 1925 (from The Salvador Dali Gallery, http://www.dali-gallery.com/html/dali.php)

A helping hand

2009-06-08T05:25:00.001-07:00

I have to admit this week I have been a bit down. I tend to feel that way when I feel I don't have control of my life. But I had a lovely weekend, and I was feeling good about myself. My mood was elevated as I did my hair, put on some classy threads and smile, and with a spring in my step, headed out the door.

It was a beautiful, if not especially crisp, day. If I do say so myself, my cousin and I looked fine as we strolled along the Yarra, through the Southbank markets, strenuously avoiding looking to closely at any beautiful wares. One coffee and a chat later, we made our way towards the art gallery.

We were strolling along looking fabulous, laughing with a gaiety only the young can truly pull off without looking ridiculous. I went to walk, and then it happened. Spectacular walking fail. My jeans are sitting too low (thanks to my losing weight) and my heel caught in them. I tugged, slowly falling forward, but to no avail! I was going to fall! I really don't recall what happened in the next few seconds, but I apparently rolled.

So I opened my eyes, lying on my back on the pavement, looking straight up at the piercing blue sky. My cousin was standing over me, a picture of concern, and all around us people are gathering to check I was alright. In fact, several asked and extended their hands. Being wildly embarrassed, I helped myself up, thanking the concerned while I blushed crimson. I checked for any injury other than grazes and bruises, told the kindly paramedic whose ambulance I fell over next to that I am fine, and walk off rather rapidly.

Apart from shaking my confidence a touch, and making me want to cry from the shock, it was a relief for me actually. Even though I was accompanied, people stopped. People showed concern. People as they bustled about stopped to care for a girl who fell, through her own lack of coordination.

And for that shining minute, I felt the warmth of humanity. What brought us together as tribes and keeps us connected. Why we congregate, seek each other's firesides and generally seek to make friends. Because, for whatever else is going on in the world, in the core of people is fundamentally good. Their compassion, kindness and friendship are what keeps us persisting when it all seems worthless.

So for today, the world is good, people are good and life is all around pretty alright. So I hope everyone keeps smiling and believing in that better world. Because I do today. :)

For what do we seek others? Because life is just not as fun without them! (from Strictly Social, www.strictlysocial.com/journal/2008/01/)

Anonymity

2009-06-03T05:56:00.000-07:00

The internet has so much to offer so many of us. Whether it is the potential for thousands of images, websites and information at our fingertips, or the relative anonymity to make our opinions known, it seems that so many of us find ourselves whiling away our time out there on the internet.

For the large majority of us, it is the mask we hide behind to deal with others in a virtual, essentially consequence-free world. We can look at graphic sexual images, flirt outrageously (regardless of our relationship status) and express our views in more forceful or agressive ways than we would in any other day-to-day situation.

Largely, we create a persona. Whether this is the latent personality we bottle up while being the "good guy", or the person we would be if we only had the confidence and self-assurance, I tend to believe that our online personas are not who we truly are. Yes, aspects of who we are appear in our online personalities, but we emphasise characteristics we would like to be more prominent. I, for example, am sure that I appear more knowledgable online than in person, as I sometimes fail to express myself as articulately as I know I am capable of.

We hide behind the mask, and allow ourselves to do that which we would not necessarily otherwise do. Apart from protecting our privacy, useful when we express opinions that might otherwise be contrary to public (employer/governmental) opinion, we also prevent the people that admire this other side to us from getting to know us personally. It is an unfair situation but at the same time, the anonymous posters and admirers are still sought after.

That anonymous individual is a hard nut to crack. You have to hunt down clues, read between the lines, and even then you may never get to the truth. The pseudonymed friends you get to know in more detail generally and get some basic details of their lives. Whether they are international, married, working, creative. It is these new friends who give the first shades in this black and white medium. I adore my anonymous posters, and for those who post under their pseudonym, I am very pleased to have this opportunity to get to know the you that you wish to show me.

As for me, I like the masks that we all wear here. They bring colour, fun and intrigue to an otherwise colourless and flat world. So wear your masks my friends, and while we're all here, we may as well dance!

I will confess that my favourite masks, are those the Venetians make for Carnivale . So beautiful. This one comes from Masks Of Venice (www.masksofvenice.co.uk/).

A smile a day keeps the doctor away

2009-05-28T04:53:00.000-07:00

In a world where we forget what feels good, what it is to connect, there is only bleakness. There are so many ways we can all reconnect but the simplest is a smile.

The easy smile pumps us with endorphins, and everyone around us catches it. Worse than the Spanish flu and much more virulent. With any luck it will hang around all day and make everyone a little happy.

Your state of mind and your health have been intertwined for years. Patients with the best prognosis are often the ones connected to other people, generally positive with a lust of their own lives. It is why laughter therapy is used in cancer patients and why laughter clubs are on the rise.

What I lack, and what I seek to find, is a lust for my own life. A reason to smile. The thing is we are beautifully and vitally alive. We are healthy, there's a roof over our head and some money (sure, it could be more, but it could always be more) in our bank accounts. Life itself is our reason to smile.

So do me a favour. Spread a little smile flu tomorrow. Do a little appreciating. Let's not spend all our lives waiting.

Sleep, perchance to dream

2009-05-27T06:09:00.000-07:00

Sleeping is the most under-rated aspect of our daily lives, but if you consider that we spend around about a third of our lives asleep. It is essential for repairing our body and filing away those precious memories for future reference. Why then do we fight this natural biological urge?

We fight it by reducing our times by getting up and exercising. When we work late or work from bed, we fight it by having poor sleep hygiene. A good bed often falls to the way side in favour of a new TV, that holiday in Fiji or just general life.

I believe the root of our trouble is that we all just have so much to do. Most of us are inside for work, our diets are richer and larger, we eat and retire later. Television and internet distract us, too much coffee before bed time and we're not tired.

Trouble is, we are. But we train ourselves to block it out, to keep up all the extra work we're doing. However, if we let ourselves sleep, we'd probably be more effective, pleasanter at work and with our families. Not to mention having more energy and feeling refreshed.

So this week I challenge you all. Grab your loved one and head to bed at a reasonable hour. Fluff up those pillows or spend a little for some new ones. Turn off the phones, the tvs and the computers. And perhaps take a little advice from Mr W Shakespeare and sleep, perchance to dream.

Hate as a national past time

2009-05-25T07:29:00.000-07:00

Most people who know me in real life know that very little makes me white hot angry, so furious that I respond viscerally and the red curtain falls in front of my vision. The one topic that makes me trully angry is racism.

I have wondered over time whether you cannot understand the damage you do being racist until you are a minority. How when you have the power, what suffering you can inflict merely with words.

I grew up as a minority. I was born on Christmas Island in the Indian Ocean, a territory now used for housing asylum seekers. The community there is largely of Malay and Chinese descent, where these languages are spoken at home and the culture remains strongly tied into their lives. I was one of two white children in my kindergarten class.

Now, I was exposed as a minority to those cultures. I was shown what was fundamental, by seeing the values and behaviour taught to their children. I grew up listening to the Imam call melodically to prayer and danced with the lion for Chinese New Year.

No one, nor their belief systems, were maligned. People were not excluded or made to feel left out. Their beliefs were celebrated and respected. We shared the celebrations of the end of fastings, for the end of most festivals. Christmas Island has the fondest memories for me, and my family, of anywhere we have ever lived. Life is simpler and freer there.

I have always appreciated the start in life I got there, and how it gave me a reasoned and fresh perspective, without hate and bias. But best of all, I got to see what true working multiculturalism is like.

The trouble here in Australia is we, white and previously settled Australians, feel entitled. Entitled to deny others an opportunity for a happy life on our soil, for reasons more ridiculous than "they'll steal our jobs". We feel entilted to ignore suffering and pretend they're not refugees but terrorists. We feel entitled to call those who came begging for sanctuary by any name we feel like. With some gall, we even feel entitled to call the indigenous former owners whatever comes to mind. In short, we relish our entitlement and use it poorly.

To the marrow of my bones, this makes me livid. It is as close as I come to hating those around me. We are caretakers, entitled to nothing. We need to consider ourselves, consider protecting the true way of Australia, and that mostly includes re-educating/getting rid of the bigots of any kind. None of us is any better than the other, regardless of our country of birth, our education or our skin colour. Race is an out-dated classification scheme, which is used in exactly the way our under-educated ancestors used it - to discriminate.

This comes to the heart of the topic. I hate people who think others are less than themselves. While I was raised Christian, I believe that many people still subscribe to the tenent of loving thy brother as thyself and doing unto them as you would have them do unto you. I think Australia needs to take a long hard look at itself and man up. Stop being selfish and bigoted. The only person it will end up hurting is you. And another thing. I don't think it would hurt Australians to become a minority. Might actually give us some perspective and understanding of what it is to be powerless. Then, perhaps, we might not be so afraid, and so hateful.

And, my fellow Aussies, where ever you may be, stand up against the blind and irrational hatred of racism. We have always helped each other, no matter where we were or at what cost to ourselves. It's time to get in touch with our mateship again. Let's not forget what made us what we are today - immigrants!

Now, my mother told me that sticks and stones could break my bones, but words could never hurt me. What she failed to mention was that those words could break my heart and my spirit. Bigots everywhere, while you can injure me emotionally, you can never break the body that stands tall against you and your small-mindedness. You never really subscribed to the Australian ideals anyway, so if you don't like it, take a hike. You are the anti-Australian and I am bloody sick of it.

The rhythm of life

2009-05-23T08:17:00.000-07:00

I have never been a great believer in the power of music or sound, especially in a healing or therapy sense. But recently my friend philophosphorescence made me think about sound when describing how the sound of her own heart beating reminded her of how vitally alive she was.

There is nothing more intimate, more sacred, than listening to someone else’s heartbeat. Your head upon their chest, ear resting above their heart, home to the theoretical seat of our soul, the driving force of our lifeblood. There, you feel safe, soothed and cherished. It probably harks back to the womb, where your mother’s regular bass heartbeat was the constant and comforting reminder of your existence, the music of life if you will.

I also find the sound of the sea soothes me when I am distressed or angry. The constant rhythm, the pounding of the waves or the soft hissing as they skirt up the sand, removes the tension I build within me. It is as if it washes it away. Whether this derives from the watery sounds of the womb or not, it is a extremely utilised class of sounds, with many musical pieces including water sounds. And for whatever reason, this seems to be soothing to many people.

The very idea of manipulating through music is ever present in media, from websites to movies, where the music tells us how to feel and how to think. I wonder if this association of music to feelings is programmed into us from an early age through exposure to television and movies, so later, we will know what we should feel. Is it also cultural? In Mexico, are their understandings of the music of doom very different to what a conventional Western director might employ?

I resist the idea of musical manipulations, but when it comes down to its bare bones, the jangling jungle rhythm of life is musical. Music is found universally, no matter what its form. How can I continue to deny its presence and action in everyday life?

For some people, music is their life, but I prefer to think to myself that all life is music, and we should all remember to dance.

This Old Love

2009-05-19T06:44:00.000-07:00

Single spinsterdom, while all good in theory, is the chafing habit of my existence. The trouble is, I believe in love, in happy endings, puppies, rainbows and all things fantastical. There is only so long that you can push down the thoughts of your inevitable eating by Alsatians, Bridget Jones style.

The thing is, while not trying to sound like I have too inflated an ego, I’m a good catch. I am smart, pretty, friendly, kind and fun. I can cook (moderately well), I’m a professional and I try to see the positive in most things. I don’t do drugs, drink too much or have excessive debt. No children to speak of (unless you count the inner child in me that makes its way out quite frequently). I may be a bit of a nerd, and a touch on the cuddlier side, but if people hold that against me it’s pretty darn shallow.

And yet, here I am, without a half decent relationship to my name since 2006. Don’t get me wrong, there have been the occasional dating occurrences (and the numerous hideous rebound mistakes), all the looking for love in the wrong places, and the flirtations that never made it off the ground. There was even the momentary hope earlier this year which was shot down pretty quick smart.

I’m not trying to be, but inadvertently am, all woe is me but it doesn’t make sense to me. I am not the only one among my friends, a group of smart and gorgeous women, who are single. We’re not in a hurry to get married, we’re normal (not crazy like some) but some of us have been single for an age too.

What gets me is perfectly normal and sweet men chasing tail, then turning around and crying poor when they get screwed by the psychotic bimbos. I am well aware women chase the sadistically cruel men and do the same thing, but I am not one of those women. Why do we chase the people that make us feel inadequate and give us huge baggage?

That being said, I still listen to the Love Songs with Richard Mercer, I still love romantic movies and believe that at some point there will be someone for me to love in a more permanent fashion. And in the words of one very wise man, Lior:

This old love will never die.

Me looking for love in all the wrong places

Sound of settling

2009-05-14T08:31:00.000-07:00

I started writing this some weeks back, but it seems appropriate after today's soul searching.

When is it ok to settle and when is it important to keep moving? Speaking as a Generation-Y woman, we have a short enough attention span as it is, and we are encouraged to only hold on to the essentials. Anything else is dead-weight.

Currently I am in deadspace. I am looking for an out, but I keep telling myself to hold on until my contract finishes. To finish paying off my car, get out of some other debt. Today I was called on my lack of work presence, or general lack of work. Being ridiculously unhappy at work does not help productivity levels.

The trouble is it has been hard for me to get into a productive headspace. But I had a couple of different pieces of advice. One was: Why aren't you just getting on with it? Every job starts with those little steps. Get working, finish the job and you will be happy with yourself again. True enough in itself, and the easiest part is just get started.

The other was: Tomorrow is a new day. Don't sweat the small stuff. Unfortunately there is no small stuff, hence my panic. My stress levels are silly, but I am working through it, not letting the small things getting on top of me. Or at least I will tomorrow. Cure album on and a working headspace will be good for me I think.

All sound advice. Perhaps I need more sleep too. I wonder if secretly, I don't sleep because then that will mean getting up and going to work. This way, I'm not entirely there. Which is not really wise when I drive to work. Hallucinations are not pretty when it comes to working and operating heavy machinery.

On that note, I am away, to live, learn and try another day. Wish me luck, settling down into my job and my life again.

Yours truly, too busy dreaming away her life

Work wastefulness

2009-05-13T04:28:00.000-07:00

My cousin listened to me go on with excitement tonight about how I had become a celebrity, and when we got to the part about being on Twitter, she said, "Are you allowed to do that at work?". The answer is not really. My boss, if she saw me, would flay me alive for wasting her time. I try to check it infrequently, but I like to know what is going on in the world.

Which brings me around about to what the other guilty work-time wasting techniques we have. I like to read the news, a couple of the girls used to love Perez, and another is an eBay fanatic. Not to mention Facebook and MySpace. I am sure that the IT monitoring at work has a plethora of different sites of interest for those not interested in their own work.

My question is really for those in the social/new media industry, from PR to bloggers, marketers to online entrepreneurs. When a portion of your business relies on your presence on the internet, on all the social networking sites and creating contacts in this space, how do you regulate excessive recreational use at work? Is it monitored by your employer/HR/IT departments? Or are you given free reign to make contact with the outside world as the face and representative of your company and clients? Is there some sort of acceptable use policy or use guidelines so that nothing inappropriate appears in your account?

And what of you who were headhunted from arenas like online blogs or your online presence, which would be mostly recreational? Is your online presence then regulated by the employment you choose?

In some ways, I like that my own work is seperate from this aspect of my life, but I will be seeking to join those of you who do work in this medium. I wonder then, how much of my true online personality will be lost.

Nerdiness extravaganza

2009-05-12T04:45:00.000-07:00

I am lucky enough to have found someone to indulge my inner (read: outer and everpresent) nerd. A friend who heard the Star Trek movie was half decent has agreed to be dragged along to the Imax and be subjected to the sci-fi geekery.

This is lucky because I was planning to go on my own if no one would go with me. To go to Star Trek no less, alone, would be a complete and utter act of loser-ness. In fact, I could not imagine a worse way to demonstrate how very few friends you have.

But actually, it is probably that I am the nerd of my friendship group (I should enter in here that I would have plenty of friends go with me were I in Sydney). These friends of mine are science and mathematics nerds, with an unparalleled knowledge of scientific theory that I can on occasion comprehend. But, should I throw out "All your base are belong to us", the expected titters are actually blank stares.

But you know what? I actually like being the nerd in this case. Being the one who knows the obscure geek pop culture actually makes me the go to girl for other nerdy things, and I like my status as the geek.

So I hereby embrace my innate role. And by the way, they all have it wrong. The line actually was:

(Me at a conference last year)

And the geek shall inherit the earth.

Whistle while you work

2009-05-11T05:37:00.000-07:00

Working environments are so crucial to your happiness in the workplace. Whether it is coworkers who belittle or invalidate you at every turn, or a boss who hounds and remonstrates you for the littlest things, or just the job itself that makes you grit your teeth. When work consumes more than half your day, five or more days a week, it makes turning up to work a real chore.

In these situations (or a combination of the above), what action can you take? Especially in the tough financial times we face now and in the future. Especially if you have financial obligations, like a mortgage or loan, or a family to provide for.

Unfortunately, like me, many just have to grin and bear it. I also have this difficulty. I am trying to find a little bit of joy in everyday tasks, but it is more like dragging myself through mud. Fortunately for me, I have a plan, and an escape option. Perhaps others can also utilise this motivator. Or plan bits out of your next holiday. Take up a hobby for after work that you enjoy and helps you unwind. Read during your lunch break - everyone needs a little bit of escapism.

Good luck in your search for a little bit of happiness in your workplace. Let's face it, we all need it.

Recreating yourself

2009-05-03T04:56:00.000-07:00

Any scientist who works with stem cells will tell you that the hardest cell to change is the cell the knows what it is destined for. It is the same with people. Those who 'know' what they can and cannot achieve. It is why the fitness and weight loss industries makes money - people begin but generally cannot follow through.

As one of the horde who overthinks, overstresses, overeats and just generally allows her psyche to get the better of her instead of actually doing something about it, I can see why people fail. It is just all too hard to focus on everything going wrong at once. It is also hard to convince yourself when you've never had to work hard for anything, that you need to earn it.

Today, I feel like I turned an emotional corner with my battle with health and fitness. For the first time in a long time, it feels good to push and to overshoot my goals. I felt good running, a phrase that people who have known me for a long time thought they would never hear me say. I can only be pleased with myself for my commitment to this.

What most people don't realise that the hardest part is just wrapping your head around the psychological toughness you need to follow through with it. That is the killer, the thwarter of all endeavour. Talk all the positive self-talk you want, but it won't come through unless the rest of your psyche is ready to deal with it as well. And the first part of this for me has been a many month process. But I feel as if I am ready, I am ready to change.

For the first time in a long time, I am proud of myself. I can and am able to do anything.

I will start leaping in front of the camera instead of hiding behind it.

Feminism today

2009-05-01T05:31:00.000-07:00

Feminism is a cause which has largely been lost on my generation of women, and maybe the Gen Xs as well. In the folly of my youth, I too denounced a tie to "feminism" and announced I was an egalitarian instead. Of course, it's not quite the same, but I suppose that I found it less confrontational. Of course, I was dating a chauvanist at the time, but even when older and wiser I felt the need to distance myself from feminism and the image of fanatacism that term conjures.

In an era of (relative) prosperity, where one worker is the same as the other, what reason is there for not having equal rights and entitlements? Granted, most women will eventually have children and take time from work for those children. Even as they age, from time to time, they will need to be a mother. And although it seems they get the lesser responsibility for it, men are parents too. Why are they not penalised for being parents?

But consider the flip side of the coin. Less professional couples are having children, and they are having fewer children. These women will not have children to rush home to or take time off caring for. Why should this mean that they are penalised for other women's choices to have children?

Surely, it should fall back to a system where if you value your employee, you show them. If they are talented at what they do, promote them or give them a pay rise if their skills won't translate to other responsibilities. It is not a black and white world, nor should it be that way. But I cannot see any good reason why the start pay should not be the same, regardless of sex.

In this era of instability and uncertainty, shouldn't we be striking out in the right direction? Fix what is wrong while we have the opportunity to do so? Let's see feminism make a come back and give it the right connotations.

Lest we forget

2009-04-29T05:06:00.000-07:00

I know it's past ANZAC day, but I saw another person's blog that reminded me. I believe that so many are forgetting the true meaning of this solemn day. While we are often granted a public holiday to mark the occasion, it is meant to be a day of respect and reflection.

At this time, I would like to thank the Australians who put their lives on the line so that I may enjoy the life I do today. I would like to thank their families for allowing them to protect our beautiful country. With a heavy heart, I extend my sympathy to those who lost their loved ones and say I deeply respect the sacrifices they made. To those whose service has passed, thank you for the risks you took on our behalf.

Australia is a better place for your service.

At the going down of the sun, we will remember them.

Lest we forget.

Public transport etiquette

2009-04-28T04:42:00.000-07:00

It has been a hot topic of discussion on my favourite blog this week (http://blogs.news.com.au/news/splat/). So I will write the public transport etiquette.

1) If you are young and healthy and even more if you are a student, be aware of elderly, incapacitated/disabled, pregnant women and mothers with small children. Trust me, one day someone will do it for you and you will appreciate it.

2) If asked by one of these for your seat, do it without complaint. Again, if you were in their shoes...

3) Please use soap and water, and after this, deodorant. It will make a much more pleasant ride for everyone.

4) Seats are for people, not for bags, your feet or half your butt cheek. Hogging seats is just not on.

5) If you only have 2 stops to go, and you don't fall into the category in 1 & 2, give your seat up for someone who has a longer journey. If you hold on, standing won't hurt you and will in fact be good for your physique.

6) Do apologise if you sit, stand or generally hurt someone else on the transport.

7) Stand back from the doors when people are trying to get out and don't push in. You can get in when other people get out.

8) Don't push from behind to get out.

9) Please do have as close to correct fare as possible. Other people would like to be on time too.

10) Please do answer people who talk to you, even if it is to answer them and then say, "Sorry, but I am not interested in chatting today. Thanks.".

11) On that note, please devote your entire attention to the driver or whoever it is that takes your fare. Make the process expedient for everyone else.

12) Don't graffiti on the inside of the train. You know the unoriginal and truly pathetic tagging I am talking about. You're not cool, you're just an idiot and it shows your IQ.

13) Please allow people to get to the doorway easily. You might not have to go anywhere, but other people do.

14) While I don't care about knowing your life (I'm a people watcher and it amuses me), keep in mind anyone could be on that bus/train/tram. Would you want your grandmother to hear that potty mouth?

Keep to this and you and I will have no problem if we encounter each other. Happy travelling.

Dating scene ala 2009

2009-04-27T06:51:00.000-07:00

Dating is such an American term for what is essentially people getting together and seeing each other. Everyone assumes its so easy for the 20-somethings to get on. But its not as easy as it seems, especially from the girls point of view.

The sexual revolution both freed and crippled us. It freed us so that we could love people physically if we so chose. It crippled us by letting men see us as purely sexual objects. Don't get me wrong, I like the freedom to choose. I just object to the assumption that I want only to be a sexual object. I want someone to romance me, to get to know me, to enjoy the brain I have in my head. I don't want to "cam" or tell someone what "position" I enjoy, because that will all come if you actually bother to get to know me.

I do not look like a model, I am a size 18 who tries to be fitter and healthier (and sometimes I am). But I want to go out and meet people, but I get caught in the web that is the internet, where everything is judged on looks (and I judge too), as is the nature of this dating medium. Unfortunately, we do not have the neighbourhood groups of my parents age, or the socials of my grandparents time. My meeting of boys falls down to 3 options: meet as friends of friends or family, meet over the internet or meet in a public place where a large amount of alcohol is likely to present and imbibed (knowing my generation as I do). Somehow, where our family and friends do not connect to such large groups as they used to, more and more people are turning to the internet as a solution. I understand why, but for me, it just doesn't work.

So I will try and get out there more, between my work, my exercise and seeing the friends I so rarely have time for. Rock on, dating in 2009.

Rain rain, don't go away

2009-04-27T05:38:00.000-07:00

I was driving home tonight, weary from the work day, and it was raining. Instead of being annoyed at the slow drive home, my soul was salved with the patter of the rain on the window. With lights softly shining on the wet road, it was a veritable wonderland. The lights of people seeking to get home in the darkness, searching for comfort and kindness in this hard, work-a-day world. I feel very blessed to have a home to go to, to have warmth, food and a comfortable bed. Rain just seems to wash away your cares, giving you a fresh face with which to view the world, doesn't it?

Fan Fiction

2009-03-30T04:53:00.000-07:00

When the book or TV series you enjoy ends, all is not lost. You can get the threads of the story woven by another to depict a part of the story you had not thought to imagine, or even a storyline that you had never wanted to explore.

The world of fan fiction is becoming increasingly popular with the teens and twenties, trying out their writing skills and for the praise that will ultimately come. With epic stories, more akin to novels themselves, or one-shots, snapshotting the fiction that inspires you, there is a story form for you as either a writer or a reader.

And if you haven't had your fill of horror, wait until you hit the slash fiction. These are normally romantic pairings that would make most romantic person blanch. Harry Potter fans have Snape/Malfoy, Dumbledore/Harry and many other pairings to entertain them, should they stumble through the shadowy corridors of the fan fiction world.

So come on, if you dare. Take up the challenge and write a story. You might surprise yourself - and you would certainly entertain the people that have nothing better to do.

Balance

2009-03-24T04:54:00.000-07:00

Exercise - we either love it or hate it. Either way, it's an important part of daily life and essential to long-term well-being. My choice of exercise is a class known as Body Balance.

I don't know whether it is the complimenting styles the class amalgamates, giving you a tantilising taste of yoga, pilates and tai chi, or the meditation at the close of the class, but I walk out languid and relaxed. The standing joke is that I come out of the class on a different plane to everyone else.

Those endorphins the science world is all a-buzz about are definitely important to my continuing attendance. It might be the key to getting people on the straight and narrow of health - find exercise you love and do it until you can't anymore.

I walk out of that class a different woman to the one that walked in, and I just love it. This is certainly the life.