So.

In an effort to have a foodie post and to have something to eat this weekend,

I made a breadcake

with cheese

and garlic butter.

Put one layer of dough in the pan, then add a layer of cheese and garlic/herb butter, then add the other layer of dough on top and bake.

yea! Win!

I phrase my question to lead you to a certain response….

Instead of “What time will I see you tonight?”

I go with

“Are you still feeling up to tonight?”

Just a slight difference.

Leading you down the path of the rejection I’m waiting for.

I get the answer I expect.

“I don’t think I’d be up there until late, maybe we’ll give it a miss this time?”

Rejection confirmed.

Ok. Panic time. Turn this around…

“I’ll come to you? I just want to see you, I don’t mind driving, even if it’s just to fall asleep next to you”

Something that you can’t really say no to.

So that I get my expected rejection.

But frantically turn it around.

Is this manipulation?

[3:13:37 PM] Fiona Moore: Today the theme seemed to be ways I wanna be perfect but feel that I am doomed to failure
[3:18:31 PM] Fiona Moore: \o/
[3:19:46 PM] Fiona Moore: Scrap wanna. Need to ve perfect. Feeel compelled :/

it would be one thing if that simply applied to one area of life – say just work, or fitness, or organising my cd collection. But when it spans all those things and more, spills into controlling how you form, maintain, and freak out about all relationships, it starts to be a little bit of a problem.

When you breathe a sigh of relief after a breakup, not because you’re not frantically missing that person and their role in your life, but because that’s one role you don’t have to play and get right for awhile. That doesn’t place pressure on your every move, your every word.

There are so many other roles swirling around, begging to be perfected, friend, sister, daughter, playmate, employee, flatmate, colleague, speechie.

No wonder I feel paralysed.

Maybe it would help if I just knew who Fiona was first.

I talk about the meltdown I had Sunday morning when she was gone when I woke up.

Immediately I panic, running through the evening’s events. Had I done something to piss her off? Did I hit on her inappropriately after our conversation about not doing that? Did I make some snarky comment after a couple of shared bottles of wine that one regrets come morning? What did I doooooooo?

I start crying and ringing her mobile, and land line, desperate for a response.

No answer, messages left. Texts and pms sent.

I retreat into my panic. Frozen.

Replaying the evening. No I did noting wrong, but then why did I feel so fearful? So desperate?

Why was I retreating into myself, trying to shut off the world, while trying to stay a part of it.

Just enough to regret, not to be noticeably more than before.

I get a message back.

She’d gone home to sleep. Of course. So sensible a response.

Missing xanax, I take my missed seroquel from the night before, and some panadol for good measure.

And sleep til noon.

Fiona does all the exciting things.

How I wish I did. To you, exciting is chinese food or dinner after 9pm,

to me

I don’t know what not boring is

It’s the things I can’t blog about.

Or talk about.

That give a buzz.

But fade.

I dreamed that I could write.

I was in a writing group with some others, we were writing and sharing our stories.

I didn’t get to read mine out that session.

But a guy who did got to, and I started frantically editing mine, making it more personal, more evocative.

Expressing anger, frustration, fear, sadness.

I don’t remember those words now, but I do remember his words of encouragement, the I believe in you, the quick godluck kiss, the holding me while I freaked out about now being good enough.

A girl can dream.

So, to help, I’ve made a Spotify list of all the hottest 100s from the past 20 years, based on the TripleJ lists.

I have no idea how to only pick 20.

I KNOW the mid 90s will feature heavily.

How about you? Any ideas?

So I can see myself as the girl who apparently has it together according to family and friends, but really doesn’t have a clue what to do next.

Putting on the costume each day, to head to work, or school, or out with a group.

To play the role I’m meant to play. The friend, the sister, the daughter, the girlfriend, the lover.

The speech therapist.

The dorky catgirl.

What do you want me to be?

Tell me.

So, I was sent a few packs of the Queen Soft Sugar Pearls to try out, because I am such an avid baker. Plus I love the idea of silver balls that won’t break a tooth. Think of them as Cachous, but they don’t have to be swallowed whole :p

Having a few to eat on their own, they were soft (but not too sof), and kinda had the texture of jelly crystals eated from the packet, if you put too many in their at once. The rainbow ones also smell a lot like rainbow sugary popcorn, the sort that used to come in a carrot shape packet at the fete.

Blurry shot. I love Basco packet mixes. They always work out well for me.

Improvising. I have no bowl or electric mixer. Bowls are pots and containers. etc.

See? Awesome Basco mixes.

Yay! They also have white, baby pink, baby blue, gold and silver. But the rainbow is best, right?

Prioduct Talk by Nuffnang

So, I am a person who sweats. I’m a warm body, plus I get anxious, so having a good deodorant is kinda essential to functioning in the real world.

Nuffnang sent me a couple of the Dove Pure deodorants, the spray and the roll on, to have a try of….

Because of the following, I thought I might as well give them a try, plus, they also claim to be 48 hour deodorants. Which, for a sweaty pinkie, means they tendto last the day….

• NO Parabens
• NO Colourants
• NO Fragrance
• NO alcohol*
*Refers to Ethyl Alcohol.

So… what did I think?

The spray
A couple of issues here, the main one being the powdery residue left on my underarms, even after following the explicit instruction to hold 15cm away and spray for no more than three seconds. Yep, as advertised, there is no scent to it, and it mostly did its job, but that meant to me for lasting for 10 hours, not 48!

Roll on
I don’t think this one was as effective as the spray in being un-pit-smelling. Didn’t last as long, and since it’s unscented, there was no baby poowder smell (like in the deodorant I prefer to use) to mask things.

As far as sensitivity and being nice to my skin goes, I think they were fine… but sorry guys, I’m not a convert!

xx

So, I has this,

Consider yourself aware.

Oh and ask me stuff okay?

Meant to be writing a post of deodorant, but that can wait til tomorrow.

Meant to be writing a report, but that can also wait.

Meant to call someone back, but no not that either.

Instead it’s me

a few chats

Tim Minchin, in Californication

and some Awkward.

Oh and chardy.

Happy Wednesday.

It’s only a little thing.

Slight change in reference,

That shows that the relationship isn’t what it was…

No more” my sweet”

or other pet names.

No, it’s Fiona.

It’s how it should be.

But it bites.

Tonight, I leaned that Bacchanalia means “any form of drunken revelry” these days. Apt. :)

535:

1. Industry :: Heavyweights
2. Jerry :: Macquire
3. Detour ::sign
4. Mug :: shot
5. Steer :: clear
6. Link :: ed in
7. Harmony :: Ivory
8. Epic :: fail
9. Suspect :: victim
10. Translate :: interpret