Lucy's Thought of the Week

I'm sorry I wasn't good enough

2012-01-28T16:19:00.000-08:00

I wonder if I wasn't there for you - if I wasn't actively involved in your life. I didn't appreciate your memories, your adventures, your witty one-liners. Your opinion on politics, on current affairs.

Maybe I was too quiet. I didn't say enough, didn't respond enough. I wasn't excited enough about your dinner plans, your new job, the movie you went and saw. Maybe I didn't listen when you complained about the traffic, didn't offer enough support in regards to your noisy neighbours. Maybe I forgot your birthday.

Facebook friend 689, I'll miss you. And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that the events leading up to my deletion were so severe you didn't feel you could simply remove me from your feed - you had to remove me from your profile all together. I'm sorry you were no longer interested in the latest photos of my dog, my most recent holiday, my constant links to animal welfare organisations. I'm sorry if I didn't update my status enough - if I updated too often. I'm sorry if my check-ins made you want to smash your iPhone on the ground in a jealous rage because I was doing the locomotion with @Lainey Fitzpatrick and @Will Tremayne and you were home alone watching The Big Bang Theory.

Maybe it wasn't even about me. Maybe you're so hipster you simply have to keep your numbers down, you can't have too many friends. Maybe you deleted me because I am a Facebook junkie, and my decision to add @Akmar Ramasavarga from Turkey offended you. I'm sorry I thought my non-rejection of him, a man who has never done anything wrong by me that I am aware of, would be more offensive to you than my blatant disregard to the very definition of the term 'friend'.

Mostly I'm sorry I don't know who you are. But I'll miss you. Because now I'll likely never get to 700 friends.

2011-11-19T16:54:00.000-08:00

Last Monday I attended a book launch where the guest speaker, Ray "my hero" Mooney, told a story I can't forget. He was speaking about a friend of his who had recently passed away, but in the weeks leading up to his death had taken the chance to reflect upon the world. He said to Ray, as the two old friends stood by the Yarra River, "It's a wonderful world we live in when we have to invent a God to explain the things we can't understand".

The launch was for "The People Are Revolting", and I was lucky enough to have a small piece added to the collection of some stunning works on the topic of revolutions. I wrote simply of my personal revolution, my emancipation from the pentecostal church, aged 23. It's a topic Ray and I have talked about before, but it was the words of his late friend that on this night that spoke to me so clearly.

The issue isn't whether or not we believe in God, whether science and evolution disprove an existence, whether bat sonar points to creation. The issue, at it's core, is what a wonderful world we live in.

My issues with a God created world began when I lost a dear friend. There was no man made reason for his death, it wasn't the result of free will, or choices. He died, aged 22, from leukemia. I had two choices, either God could have cured my friend from his illness, but He chose not to, or He couldn't - and what else couldn't God do that He said he could? Either way, I knew the former wasn't a God I wanted to serve anymore. So I began looking for the latter God - the one who created the world and everything in it - but couldn't control what happens to it after that point.

But I found so many problems in a created world, the idea that it was purposed and left to fail, broke my resolve. I gave up looking for answers - and started enjoying the world for what it is - flaws and all. And I can't encourage you enough to do the same.

A created world suggests every thing is available for our benefit - the trees, animals - all given as a gift from God for us. A wonderful world is something to be cherished, appreciated, nurtured. "We must bear in mind that we belong to nature, we are born in nature and have to work with nature in order to live life to the full with plenty of health and vitality"(Source unknown/I forgot - it's still good tho, right?).

I don't know what I believe in, but I know that whatever we think we know, however high up on the food chain we think we are, Mother Nature can still kick our asses. So maybe we should pay for our carbon.

When you're busy making plans

2011-10-30T01:11:00.000-07:00

Last week I had the rug swept from under me. The plans that I'd been so happily making over the last few months were stolen in a moment.

It happens all the time, of course. 99% of our lives are outside of our control. We share this world with people, with mother nature, and we get very little that we can control.

They're the things I like to focus on, obviously. I can control my values, my behaviours. I choose what to eat, how to look after my body (albeit determined to some extent by the outside factors; finance, time...). I choose what type of person I want to be, what kind of employee, friend, partner, mother I want to be seen as.

That's great and all; but it's not enough to build a life for yourself - and so you let other people in. You plan holidays, you share houses, you form relationships that offer you the things you can't do by yourself. You trust. You hope. You cross your fingers and pray for the best.

And when the worst happens? You breathe. You scream. You curse. You shake it off. And you make new plans. Because that's what we do - and what we do best.

I didn't ever imagine being a single 26 year old girl with a puppy and a lease and a car I can't afford on my own. But I'm here. And I'm making plans again.

I'm making new plans; the kind of fun, spontaneous plans only a single girl can make. Plans for travel, for adventure. And if some dashing, ruggard and athletic man comes and pulls the rug from under those plans - well then I'll just have to make new ones again.

I rarely look back to my church days fondly, but there is one scripture I remember and think of often. It's in the book of Jeremiah (chapter 29, for anyone that would like to look it up). God told Jeremiah to build homes, and plan to stay. To plant trees and eat the fruit they produce. To marry and have children. The great thing about this story, is that Babylon, where Jeremiah was living at the time, was later destroyed. And assuming God would have known this in advance (that's the theory remember) he still told Jeremiah to knuckle down and make plans.

I think of this often - a gal that's moved as many times as I have still has to find a way to feel at home. So I always plan to stay. Even when I know I likely won't. I plant things in the garden, I make the effort to 'finish' decorating the house. I make sure that wherever I am, is home. Whoever I am with, is family.

The other thing I'm thinking about at the moment, is the plans that got lost before you made these last lot of plans. What did you have to sacrifice in order to make room for your new plans? What can you put back on your list of 'things to do'?

John Lennon says 'Life is what happens when your busy making plans.' But I disagree. I think life is what happens when your plans turn to shit, and you look around, see where you are, and realise there's still plenty of places you can go.

And that's my thought for this week.

Farmers Market

2011-09-17T17:53:00.000-07:00

This morning I attended my second ever farmers market. Since becoming a girl-of-the-burbs, there's one just around the corner every month. YAY!

Or so I thought. Here's a summary of my experience:

- Buying from the farmers market is insanely expensive. How so? Aren't we 'cutting out the middle man' so to speak?

- For some reason, it's not until you've gotten home and looked at what your fifty bucks got you that you even pay attention to the $7.50 loaf of olive bread or $6.00 roasted garlic dip

- People are much more courteous/forgiving of prams (Charlotte, month one) than beagles (Shaun, month two)

- A super excited, happy dog is great at the beach or fully enclosed dog park. Not at the petting zoo, or orange juice stand

- Shaun fucking loves rabbits

Honestly, I blame James for making me go alone. That extra pair of hands would have meant I didn't have to hand my wallet to the farmer to get my money himself because I was busy holding down a squealing puppy.

But here's my thought. Is the 'farmers market' just another one of those things that seems so much better in theory than it is in practise?

Like house-parties where you drink cheap alcohol on an empty stomach, get stuck talking to a loud, drunk acquaintance and miss the last train home. Or wedding ceremonies that photograph beautifully, make great memories, but really are boring and awkward the entire time. Or family christmas?

As I get older (that's old-er, not old) I'm becoming more and more attached to the things I enjoy, not the things I'm supposed to enjoy. Quiet Saturday nights at home watching The West Wing. Lunch dates in the park eating noodles out of a box. Drinking one glass of really nice wine (instead to numerous plastic cups of the cask variety).

It's been a contentious issue in our home of late. But I've decided I'm happy to be 'boring' because I'm never bored when I've got Alison Janney for company, and if I'm out of bed at 11pm at night, something has gone horribly wrong.

Olive bread for lunch anyone? It had better be delicious.

For the record

2011-08-24T03:13:00.000-07:00

Tonight I finally snapped. I lost my temper at the radio.

You know what? I don't care if your opinion is different from mine, but have the decency to be honest about your motives, and the simple common courtesy to allow others the freedom to make their own.

The way I see it, there are three answers people give in relation to whether gay marriage should be legalised.

1 - Sure, why the hell not?
2 - I don't care what they do, but do they have to call it marriage?
3 - No. Marriage is between a man and a woman.

Number 1 is answered by 90% of Gen Y, and a growing number of Aussies. Even the liberals oppose a "Nanny state" declaring that if it doesn't hurt anyone else you should have the right to make your own choices (irony?).

For anyone in category 2, this is why: because it's about equality. Having the right to make the same choices as straight couples. If you can make the choice for yourself whether or not to marry, why shouldn't gay people be entitled to the same basic freedom?

Now this is when my blood starts to boil. When people say a 'traditional' marriage is between a man and a woman and should remain so. Why? Because like it or not, Australia was founded on Christian principals and our government doesn't have the balls to declare enough is enough.

If you believe that homosexuality is a sin, and in legalising marriage we are sinning, say so, and say it proudly. Don't hide your beliefs behind 'traditional values' and 'family ideals'. Have the guts to stand for what you believe in.

Tonight a Christian male called up the radio to discuss his views. He said that he'd been thinking a lot about marriage and what it meant because he was getting married in two weeks. He believed marriage was both a union between Christ and the church and a union between a man and a woman and placing God's covering over their relationship.

The journalist asked the man if he felt if gay marriage was legalised it would remove God's covering from his marriage.

'Of course not.'

So what's the problem?

I know a few gay couples, and none who would request the covering of God over their mariage anyway, so that's okay, the Christians can keep that.

James and I have made the decision to remain un-married until gay marriage is legalised. Why should we have rights denied to our friends? How can we be expected to raise our children with values of equality and acceptance when we continue to behave like homophobic rednecks?

It's time to grow up, Australia. And you don't like gay marriage, great. Don't get gay married.

Giraffes are the new Paris - A life shared in status updates

2011-07-30T22:59:00.000-07:00

Five weeks ago I set myself the challenge to go one whole month without Facebook, twitter or Blogspot. I wanted to measure just how much of an important element it had become in my life, so as well as July without social media, I gave up three big loves: dairy, caffeine and alcohol.

Today I report on my findings.

My initial hypothesis was that as a good vegetarian girl, my biggest sense of loss would come from cheese. I was so wrong. Not to be misunderstood, dairy was the hardest vice to give up in that it was all around me. Day 1 I accidentally ate the little chocolate that came with my decaf-tea. Week 3 I brought spinach and ricotta tortellini for a quick dinner. One morning in week 2 I was running late and grabbed James' up'n'go from the fridge. But it wasn't the vice I craved the most.

I spent most of 2010 under the influence of alcohol. Back to full-time study with a part-time job in a pub and no car... You do the math. But since shacking up with the boy we hardly drink at all. James only drinks when he parties, and I don't really do that. = Easy.

Now caffeine is a vice for two reasons, sure the obvious one is coffee, but rest assured a soy hot chocolate is a pretty fine substitute. But Diet Coke has been my crutch for forever. I tried caffiene free Diet-Coke week 1 (don't) and it nearly made me ill. After that I settled for sparkling apple and soda water with lime. Not too hard.

From day 1, my biggest challenge was the overwhelming need to 'check' something. I'd get to work in the morning, put the kettle on, open my inbox and it was there, haunting me. The question that never left my head, the entire 31 days: What's happening? I learned I could quiet this desire with The Australian, The Age and abc.net.au, followed later in the month by Steve's suggestion, Time.com. Before I knew it, I'd developed a second addiction; current affairs. I figure, hey, better to know what's going on in the world than what my old high school chums are having for dinner.

So i survived it. But isn't the biggest lesson I learned.

At some point in the last two years, I have stopped thinking like a normal person, and started thinking about events in my life as status updates. Constantly, I'd hear something, or have some good news, or something stupid would happen and I'd think of a witty one-liner in which to relay such information to my extended network.

And when I didn't get to post a status update, I felt ripped off. Not only for myself, but for everyone else who missed out on my pure genius.

Where to from here?

I'm not going to reinstall the Facebook app on my iPhone. I have access to the internet at home and at work. That'll do. But I did realise that Facebook wasn't the reason I can't walk down the street without playing with my phone. My phone is. So I'm trying to leave it behind more often.

I've accepted Facebook does have a place in my life. I freaked out when James and I had 2 weeks to sell our Splendor tickets and 600+ potential buyers I was ignoring for 2.5 more weeks. WHOOPS! Luckily James knows my password. Thanks baby.

I'm happy not eating as much cheese, or drinking as much alcohol or coffee, and I've given up Diet Coke.

Next challenge; a month without bread and sugar. Because a detox hardly feels like a detox at all when it includes olive sourdough bread with hummus and raspberry licorice. But that can be a month down the track. I owe Anna and Harry a belated Xmas in July.

I can't encourage you all enough to do the same; if not for a month, then a week, and if not for a week, try a day. Remember what life was like before it all got so instant.

PS Hi Matt.

Mind, Body & Soul Detox - July Challenge

2011-06-21T05:17:00.000-07:00

On Monday I was walking down Glen Huntly Rd running a work errand. And it happened again. The all-consuming, uncontrollable desire to reach into my handbag, pull out my iPhone and check for Facebook notifications, followed by the equally demanding, equally strong need to refresh my twitter and see if @joshthomas87 had tweeted anything new and hilarious.

I have to admit it now; I'm addicted to social media. No, I don't spend hours a day checking out pages, 'liking' silly anecdotes or chatting to friends. But I do have a need to constantly refresh, and make sure I'm not seconds behind the 8 ball.

Last week I was terribly upset when I thought a best-friend of mine was going through a hard time. Instead of calling him immediately, I spent days worrying before I finally called and found out it was just bad humour on the part of a mutual friend. I hated the thought that if something did happen to my friend, I would find it out on Facebook, and not because he picked up the phone to talk to me about it.

It is for these reasons, and many more, that I am declaring the month of July my Mind, Body & Soul Detox month.

I will not be checking my Facebook page or updating my status, refreshing my twitter feed or posting a blog for the entire 31 days.

To make this more interesting; I'm also going to be giving up Dairy, Alcohol and Caffeine. Why? Mostly because I'm turning into a slob with no self control, but also to see which of these four vices I struggle the most without.

My hypothesis is cheese.

If anyone has any suggestions of other challenges to add, feel free to hit me up. Or anything good I can substitute with (I'm thinking frozen raspberries and hummus and avocado. OOh and sparkling apple juice - YUM).

I'm excited. But then I haven't started yet. Wish me luck!

when life moves too quickly

2011-06-10T21:42:00.000-07:00

I don't know when I became one of those people who feel the need to keep absolutely everyone updated on every aspect of their life. Somewhere between MySpace/Facebook/Twitter & Blogspot things didn't seem official until I had broadcast them into cyberspace.

Today I am overwhelmed, because there is too much I feel I 'need' to say. Life is moving so fast for me, even my social networking can't keep up.

Sure I could summarise my activites of the last four weeks in dot points, but what's the point? That's not life. My friends and I don't sit down for coffee and 'catch up' in point form on the seemingly 'important things' we've been up to. We talk about life: how we feel, what's making us smile, what's giving us hope, what we've learned.

So today, I recite no list of accomplishments, no update as to my current employment/financial/social status.

Today I offer my cyber world a thought. The thought that's been in the forefront of my mind and conversations the last 24 hours.

Why don't they just adopt out all the stranded beef cattle until they figure out what to do with them?

James and I will happily add a cow to our new home. I can't promise you can have it back to send to slaughter, BUT STOP COMPLAINING THAT THEY ARE SUFFERING BECAUSE YOU'RE NOW NOT SENDING THEM TO GET TORTURED TO DEATH.

Really, beef export industry, really???? We're supposed to feel bad for the 'stranded' cows because you're NOT sending them to Indonesia??

Sure it's going to cost you money to move them back to somewhere with food. But really? You don't think it's better this way?

I was so proud of the government for making a financially reckless decision in order to make an ethically right one. I am so proud that Australia stood up and said they will not tolerate that level of cruelty. And I am so proud of the ABC and Four Corners for bringing the message to Australia that what comes from us remains our responsibility.

I WILL ADOPT A COW. I want to adopt a cow. Shaun would bloody love it.

End rant.

Social Anarchy #2

2011-04-15T16:52:00.000-07:00

A lot has happened since I last blogged. I started a new job, which I quickly realised was the start of a new career (because I don't ever want to leave). I got the loan and insurance approved for my very new car, coming in a few glorious weeks. James and I made the very exciting decision to shack up together when our leases run out next month. Shaun celebrated his first birthday. The Age emailed me with the news they want to publish my article. AND I stumbled upon this sticker in the movie theatre toilet:

'When stub roll finished, push leaver to left for large roll supply'

There is so much I have to say about this.

1 - It's shocking grammar. Really? 'when stub roll finished...' Who talks like that?
2 - Does the leaver push to the right?
3 - How do I know when the stub roll is finished? I mean, what are the signs? I think I need more information.
4 - I'm not sure how the smaller roll feels about being called 'stub' while the larger roll gets called 'large'. Seems very sizest.
5 - It's parading as a sentence, capital letter at the beginning, nouns and verbs and all, but they didn't bother with the full stop. Who does? They're totally overrated

My loyal followers will remember an early blog I posted about instructions on toilet roll holders, and the premise that being told to do something, sometimes makes you want to go and do the opposite. Previously, my toilet roll had instructed me to 'use this roll first', so in an act of total rebellion, I used the other roll.

However, if I'm to rebell against this new instruction in my life, there are too many options to chose from.

For example:
a - I don't wait for the stub roll to finish, I push the lever to the left anyway.
b - When the stub roll is finished, I don't push the lever at all. I leave it for the next person to do - because that's the kind of inconsiderate girl I am.
c - I complete option 'a' and use the large roll supply.
d - I grab a whole handful, run it under the tap, scrunch it and throw it on the ceiling.

I have a confession to make. I was a suck up at school. In fact, I'd probably dob on you.

I never, ever in my life have wet toilet paper, scrunched it up and thrown it at the ceiling. But I promise, if my movie wasn't about to start, reading that damn bossy sign on a toilet roll holder, would have changed who I am.

Don't tell my new bosses. I really love my job.

on the hunt

2011-03-11T23:33:00.000-08:00

This week I very suddenly lost my job. I was hard at work 10pm Sunday night, 10am Monday morning it was all over. No more pub. No more Ted. No more Sunday penalty rates. No more knock-off drinks. The official story (if you can call it that) is some kind of landlord/tenant/insurance company botch up but we all know that when a pub like The Grand View Hotel shuts its doors its very unlikely they will re-open at all.

Which is sad. Because that makes this the end of an era.

When I started at the GV, I felt I was finally in the job I was born for. I loved the people I worked with, I loved the regulars. I loved the way I could make someones day better so quickly and easily; by pulling them a beer, or asking how their day was and waiting for their response. The money was good, I pretty much set my own hours and I got to have a chef prepared vegetarian delight 4 nights a week.

Like all dreams, I had to wake from it. My fabulous manager, and BFF Steve, left me, and was never replaced. And a bar without a manager is madness. My friends moved out from upstairs, the chef moved on, the beer stopped flowing and eventually most of my regulars stopped coming in.

And (as I learned the hard way) a job with zero security isn't worth all the perks in the world.

So now I'm on the hunt, for the next job I was born for. If any of you would like to make this all a lot easier for me, and offer to publish my book, or convert my blog into a weekly column, I'd be forever grateful. But reality says I must work, at least for a little longer. And working is so boring.

I think that crisis I didn't have when I turned 26 is happening now. I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do. All I know is it has to be fabulous. So no pressure.

So my darling followers, this week I offer you no advice. No life lessons. This week I'm confused and overwhelmed and a little stressed. And really glad I have a savings account. And really glad I didn't buy a new car last week (I was this close)

Anyone with a fabulous idea hit me up. I'm all ears.

Your friend. (With a lot more time on her hands)

all of me

2011-02-21T18:25:00.000-08:00

This weekend I witnessed the pain of failing love; the moment in my friends eyes when they realised that love isn't enough. The moment they realised you can't love enough, can't love the way you want to, because it isn't there.

I write about love a lot. I'm a hopeless romantic for love. I believe in love. I want to see love overcome all. But sometimes it doesn't.

I believe the reason love fails is because its all consuming, or its nothing. To love something you need to love all of something. You can't love nachos if you don't love cheese. You can't love Melbourne if you don't love the rain. You can't love the beach if you don't love sand.

And you can't love a person if you don't love everything about them.

Passion will sustain love for so long, so will excitement, companionship, joy, adventure. But love will leave if you don't accept the person for who they are completely. Accept, and cherish. Accept, and celebrate.

It takes a long time to find all of someone. To discover the small things, the things that make you smile, the things that make you cringe. I've had James in my life for three years now, and I'm still finding all of him, and he's still finding all of me.

When you find something new, love changes. It increases, or it goes away. But it can't stay the same, because in love's eyes, you've changed. There is something more to know, and you can't un-know it.

Once you've heard somebody say something, you can't un-hear it. Once you've seen someone do something, you can't un-see it. But once you've felt something, you can un-feel it.

Love will leave, and when it does, it's because it wasn't there for all of you. And a love that doesn't love all of you, isn't the love you want.

Because that love will come, and it will stay. Because it can't leave. It's yours.

life

2011-01-31T17:36:00.000-08:00

I’m finding myself at an age where all my peers are convinced this is as good as it gets. We’re twenty-somethings; and it’s all down hill from here. In fact – it's so down hill you might as well top yourself when you get to sixty.

This is a thought I’m struggling to fathom. Last week I went and visited my ninety year-old Grandfather who has recently been moved into a ‘facility’. My darling Grandpa, or GP as I call him, is in picture perfect health. He looks exactly the same as he did when he was seventy (except for a minor upper-middle-age spread) and he’s still as charming as pie. The problem is that his dementia has advanced to a stage where my family are no longer able to care for him. GP doesn’t understand this, as ‘he’s been looking after himself for the last one hundred years’, but he hasn’t. He’s been under the full-time supervision of my aunt for the last ten, and the part-time supervision of my father and I the five years before that. He doesn’t understand why he is in care, especially in a facility with such ‘nutters’.

This is what's fabulous: my GP is so unaware of his condition, he’s ‘looking after’ the ladies he’s living with. He’s making the most of everyday, and what he forgets... doesn’t hurt him.

I understand why some of my peers may see this as a lack of quality of life – but I think they are wrong.

How truly amazing, to be looked after everyday, and still live a life whereby you feel useful. Besides, isn’t that what we all want? To feel needed?

I work at a local pub, and have the privilege a few times a week of seating a gentleman named ‘Ted’ down for dinner. Ted has been coming to the pub for ‘over forty years’. He always tries something new on the menu.

I assumed Ted was in his sixties, maybe seventies, but I was wrong. One quiet night I had the honour of sitting with Ted as he waited for his meal. Ted is ninety-four years old and lives alone, since his wife passed. He eats out most nights of the week, and has recently taken up photography. He has entered his photos in numerous competitions, and travels the country as a competition winner. When I asked him how enjoyed living alone he told me he was thinking of moving somewhere else, because ‘sometimes, he’s sick of making his own breakfast’.

I believe life is a gift. I believe every day is as precious as the last. And if someday, for some reason we find ourselves unable to make our own breakfast, instead of feeling that it’s all over, perhaps we could celebrate the fact that someone is prepared to make it for us.

Sure, being a twenty-something is great. We have the world at our feet, decisions to make, children (or puppies) to parent. But is this really as good as it gets?

Maybe a slower, more peaceful, more reflective life is one to be yearned for, aspired to, instead of feared. Maybe this isn’t as good as it gets. Maybe, it just keeps getting better. And then you die.

How to turn 26 with grace.

2011-01-08T01:15:00.000-08:00

For the first year of my adult life I'm not approaching my birthday with the cliche 'I'm so old' groan.

22... that's SO old.
23... that's SOO old.
24... that's SOOO old.

I think 26 is going to be great. I'm old enough to know that "what am I doing with my life?" really means shit.

do you know what my goals were for my 25th year were when I was 18?
- ride a motorbike
- have made my first million

and my goals for my 18th when I was 15?
- get married
- have kids
- save the world

my goals for this year are simple:
- be happy
- spread happiness

I cringe at the things I thought were important. Money, status, celebrity.
My 25th year was sensational. It humbled me, inspired me, and challenged me.

I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't failed every one of my previous goals. And there's nowhere else I want to be than right here, right now.

- for the record, right here is my gorgeous home in Brunswick I share with 2 of the best friends I have ever had and 2 delicious puppies who wake me up every day with a smile. I'm waiting for my incredible man, James to get ready so we can go to a party with our fabulous friends and typing on my shiny new macbook pro I was able to afford when I started my own business, 6 weeks ago - doesn't sound too shabby, right?

So to all of you out there dreading your next birthday and regret not achieving your so called goals... ask yourself this: Am I happy? If the answer is yes, have a happy birthday. If the answer is not yet, be happy you've got another year to get it right.

and besides, I still get asked for ID.

Raising Shaun

2011-01-01T15:12:00.000-08:00

Things I've learned in 2010, courtesy of one young Beagleier
(...and a few others)

1 - Life is better shared with someone you love.
2 - A good diet and lots of exercise makes you happy, healthy and better company.
3 - Sometimes you know what's better for someone than they do (eg. onions).
4 - Sometimes they don't care (eg. cake).
5 - When you love someone, you never give up on them. You never judge them. You're never ashamed of them them. You just want to hug them.
6 - Unconditional love takes you away from work, away from your own problems, and makes you be a better person.
7 - Family is precious and should never be taken for granted, or abused.
8 - It takes quality time to build a special relationship. Time, and a lot of patience.
9 - A new puppy might move in next door and steal your heart for a minute, but true love always finds its way back home.
10 - Life is better shared with someone you love.

Best thing I've learned in 2010? Love. Find the right person (or puppy) and love them with everything you can. Choose love every day. It makes you a better person, and makes the world a better place.

So my New Years Day message is simple: Fall in love in 2011. Fall in love for the first time, or fall in love all over again.

And to the boy who truly changed my life, James, thanks for loving me. You make me better.

Waiting on my world to change

2010-12-10T06:01:00.000-08:00

This morning I realised; not only is 2011 completely out of my control, my fate entirely in the hands of others; but I have absolutely no contingency plans.

Well thats not entirely true;
if my book doesn't get picked up, I guess I'll go back to school
if my business proposal doesn't get accepted, I guess I'll go back to school.

But God, the other options seem so much more exciting.

I know I've done everything I can already. I wrote the book. I sent a killer letter to the publishers. I wrote the business plan. I attended the meetings. I'm pretty happy with everything I've done. But if they don't like it? Then it was all for nothing. And I'm at my all too familiar 'square one'.

Every now and again (usually around Dec/Jan every year... funny that) I have a huge anxiety attack about what I'm doing - or not doing. This year is no different. I have limited funds - thanks to an international holiday I still haven't paid myself back for. I have a job with NO stability, and I have a million different ideas, none I can settle on, or make happen myself.

And every year I remind myself - hey, this year turned out alright. So take one foot, place it in front of the other, and repeat, until you end up somewhere.

That's the beauty of life. It's the things you don't expect, you don't plan for, that take you somewhere amazing.

Bring it on fate/universe/spirit-guide/karma. I trust you.

And besides, I love school.

... and they said it wouldn't last.

2010-11-14T03:29:00.000-08:00

This week I'm using my blog for something completely self-serving: I'm paying tribute to two of my favourite boys: Tim & Anthony.

Today is their 12 month anniversary and I couldn't be happier for them. Now I know we all have battles in relationships. All of us struggle, act irrational, act crazy even because of this little thing called 'love' that takes us over. But wow - do these boys have to fight.

I've always had issues with the concept of love. Why? Because it's so undefinable. I love food. I love New York City. I love my dogs. I love books. I love James. I love lentil pie. I love my brother. I love my colleagues. I love the Beckhams. I love my parents, but in completely different ways.

See the point I'm making? It's all love, and I won't back down from that. And I will never let anyone legitimise the love I feel for all the above listed items.

The time I've spent watching Tim & Anthony fall in love over and over, deeper and deeper has been an absolute privilege (well, mostly - I make sure Tim knows when I don't appreciate it...). The times I catch their stolen looks, hear their silly giggles, see them in matching outfits - hell, it's awesome.

I love these boys. And I will spend the rest of my life fighting for the right for their love to be as legitimate as any other.

I'm so proud of you both, every day. You are true heroes, and make the rest of us look like wimps.

Happy Anniversary. I love you Xxx

I'm kind of a nerd.

2010-11-01T22:17:00.000-07:00

I am an education junkie. I danced out of my year 12 exams swearing "I'd never do that again". Then 6 months later I enrolled in TAFE. Then I got bored and went to Uni. Then I finished my degree, tried working for a bit, but got bored and went back to TAFE for something new.

I'm trying to appropriately set the scene for what I'm about to say.

I LOVE school. I LOVE learning. I love the feeling you get when you master something, or solve something, or finish something. I wrote a 62000 word novel in 6 months. I bloody love working hard and 'bettering myself'.

But there is something that I hate, more than anything. More than full-time work, and that's saying something.

Homework for the sake of homework.

Today, I have spent 4 hours searching for 'errors' in bad publications. I am required to submit a scrapbook of 40 spelling or grammar errors for 10% of my grade for the year.

Things I hate about this:

1 - It's tedious

2 - It's a waste of time

3 - I'm not learning a thing

4 - I'm having to read MX and the Leader and Twilight

After 4 hours, I have found 6 errors.

During my holiday in Queensland, I had a write a Newsletter for a pretend company. I had to write a book review for a pretend newspaper. My favourite waste of time assignment this year was a 5 minute presentation on a topic of my choice to an audience of my choice.

To prove my point to the teacher of just how dumb an exercise it was, I showed the class pictures of Shaun, my puppy. She didn't get the point. She gave me a distinction.

It's for this reason, and many more, I won't be spending next year in full-time education. I will continue to study, but only the classes that don't waste my time.

But I will miss the delights of AUSTUDY. Newstart is a bitch.

How not to be dumb #1

2010-10-25T23:19:00.000-07:00

Today I broke my golden rule: never run for a train, you look like an idiot.

Even though I've been living in Brunswick for over 18 months, I got my timetable mixed up and arrived just as the train was departing.

There was the momentary "will I, won't I" question followed by the wrong choice: I will.

Train drivers must fucking love checking their rear vision mirrors to see the disapointment dance of not-passengers when the train pulls away.

It's an awkward moment, always shared with a person you made eye contact with on the other side of the glass in the hope that connection could break down walls. Or open doors at least.

You know what? I was right to make that rule. I've had a lovely 15 min rest at the station enjoying the sun and now get to make a grand entrance to class.

Being late makes you cool.

Running for the trains makes you dumb.

That's my lesson #1 for you

And you can quote me on that.

2010-10-10T02:22:00.001-07:00

Lately I've been stuck on a really big question:

Is who I am today the person I want to be forever?

I've just finished my book, about faith, hope and love in a broken world. My story is fiction, but the premise is not. I've thought long and hard about the importance of faith, the institution of religion, the value of family and friendship and making peace with God.

Here's the thing though; five years ago, I believed something completely different. Can I submit my book for publishing, knowing that I could be quoted on things I've later changed my mind about?

The way I see it, life is a journey. There are no black and white answers. We take the situations we're presented and we shape our values daily. There are a million things that could happen in the future to change how I see the world, and I find that incredibly exciting.

So no; I don't want to be this person forever. I hope I never stop growing, learning and challenging. I just pray, that by putting my ideas on paper, I still have permission to re-shape them whenever and however I see fit.

Because what is life, if not a journey? And how can we change the world, if we're not allowed to change ourselves? And how can we live at peace if we can't accept our differences?

Or maybe I'm just being paranoid.

Love.

Life in the Sunshine (Coast)

2010-09-26T01:12:00.001-07:00

Its was the holiday I would boast about for months: House-sitting my parents gorgeous new apartment on the waterfront of Alexandra Headland. Two weeks, me, Coco, Diana & Prince, and the amazing Sunshine Coast sun.

Turns out, Sunshine Coast holidays aren't as fun without the sun. And cats and dogs, as much as you love them, aren't nearly as cool as your friends who all happen to be visiting Melbourne while you are away.

Is it true? Is the grass always greener?

It was sunny and Grand Final mania in Melbourne on the weekend. I was at my Grandpa's eating rice crackers under the over cast sky.

One night I went to the pub by myself because I was bored and wanted someone to talk to. My friends from Tassie were playing a gig at the Espy; not to mention the weekend before my friends from Sydney playing their EP launch at the Northcote Social Club.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, I'm in the most amazing place, with the most amazing little pets to keep me both company.. and busy. But what is life, if you aren't with your friends?

I always thought I was super independent, traveled alone, enjoyed dinners for one, but I have to confess, my nights always end with a text, or a call to someone saying 'I wish you were there.'

Let's face it, life is better with the people you love.

So my Melbourne darlings, I look forward to seeing you soon. And a whole lot more of you.

XXX

Jesus, Boys & Life In-between

2010-09-07T16:42:00.001-07:00

We’d been at the club thirty minutes when I remembered what I cheap drunk I was.

‘I’m pretty pissed,’ I slurred to the boys. ‘I’m gonna go for a walk, get some air or something.’

‘Want me to come?’ asked Dave sweetly. Sweetly; because I knew how desperate he was for a minute alone with his man. I’d banned them from making out in front of me for the evening, determined not to be third wheel.

‘No,’ I managed to say, surprised by how difficult it was. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Ten minutes and we come find you!’ called Andrew as I walked away, waving his concerns off.

I went to the girls toilet and splashed water on my face. Who thought drinking was fun? I looked like a hooker and I felt sick as a dog. There were two very drunk, very young girls sharing the mirror with me.

‘Oh my God, did you see what she’s wearing?’

‘She is way too fat for that dress.’

‘I saw her and I was like, ew, put on some tights.’

‘Put on some control briefs.’

‘Control briefs! Ew!’

‘Excuse me,’ I said, trying to reach for the hand towel.

‘Oh my God, have you been crying?’ one of them asked me.

‘No, I’m just tired,’ I said, humiliated.

‘Here. Let me fix you up.’

After ten minutes of make-up and hair spray and gossip, I almost felt eighteen again, and I certainly looked it.

‘Thanks,’ I said sheepishly. ‘I feel better.’

‘You’re welcome. You’re totally hot.’

Oh, the days of our youth, I thought to myself. Maybe my life would have been different if I’d spent my formative years bitching in the girls’ toilets in clubs instead of leading prayer meetings. I could have got it all out of my system by now. I decided then and there I was too old, and too drunk to stay, so I went to find the boys to tell them I was heading home.

‘Sarah!’ I heard from the crowd. I turned around and couldn’t see anyone, so I kept looking for Dave and Andrew.

‘Sarah!’ The voice was getting closer, but I still couldn’t see who it belonged to. Hell, ‘Sarah’ isn’t the most uncommon name.

‘Sarah! Stop!’ Now I knew it was for me, and I knew who it belonged to. The last person I wanted to see out the first night I’d drunk in six months.

I turned around and shot him the angriest look I had.

‘What?’ I yelled.

‘I just wanted to say hi,’ Will said sheepishly.

‘Hi. I’m looking for Dave and Andrew,’ I said turning away.

‘Wait,’ he said, grabbing me on the arm. ‘They’re outside. I was just getting us another round of drinks. You want one?’

No. No would have been the correct answer. I was drunk. I was tired. I was old. I wanted to go home.

‘Sure,’ I shrugged.

Sure? I could have hit myself.

I followed Will back to the bar and waited in the pack for service.

‘You look good tonight,’ he yelled in my ear.

‘You can thank Britney and Christina for that.’

‘Huh?’

I shook my head. I couldn’t be bothered telling him about my run in with teen pop sensationalists. In fact, I didn’t know why I was talking to him at all. Here I was, standing in a crowded room ordering drinks with the one person who continues to ruin my life. I was done being polite.

‘I’m going,’ I yelled, trying to push my way back out of the queue.

‘Sarah, wait!’ he called, but I ignored him. What could there possibly be left to say?

‘Sarah!’

I started running, pushing my way through people, wishing I was anywhere else in the world than a crowded club in the city with a million people determined to get in my way.

I was out the front before he caught up with me.

‘Sarah, wait!’

I couldn’t run anymore. I had to face this.

‘How dare you!’ I screamed. ‘How dare you come up to me and act like we’re friends after everything you’ve done in the last twelve months?’

I expected him to play dumb. To ask what I meant. What I was talking about. This was Will, the boy who didn’t believe he’d ever done anything wrong in his life. I was ready to list off every incident of him being a fuck-wit in the time we’d known each other when he grabbed me and pulled me close.

‘Because I’m in love with you, Sarah. And I can’t get over you.’

I did the only thing I could think of. I slapped him across the face. It was very Melrose Place of me, and I’m a little embarrassed to recount it. But I slapped him, and ran away. Only I didn’t have a plan, or anywhere to run. So I hid down the next alley, and it took him all of ten seconds to find me.

‘I’m sorry I slapped you,’ I said quietly, crying now.

‘I’m sorry I ever let you go,’ he said, and I realised he was crying too. He sat down with me behind the dumpster and put his arm around my shoulder.

Then I kissed him. I need to be very clear on that. I wasn’t seduced, or taken advantage of. I was approached by desperate love, and I said yes.

finding love in the most unexpected places.

2010-08-18T22:27:00.002-07:00

Every young girl has dreams of falling in love. We picture our handsome husband, perfect wedding, amazing wedding dress. Most of us know as we get older, our ideas about what 'handsome', 'perfect' and 'amazing' are change somewhat. Things become more practical, more logical. Instead of family and babies, we think about careers, money, stability.

Today, I found a new love. At Godfreys.

I'd been putting it off for years, my old vacuum used to be excellent, and I kept believing it would make a comeback. I was incredibly defensive when a housemate would suggest we borrow someone else's vacuum. I'd offer to lend it to people and be offended when they declined.

But today, we had our last fight. I put her in the car and made the drive.

I knew when I saw my new love, she was the one. Champagne body, clear tube, small swivel head. No more fights with filters or coat-hangers.

It wasn't the love I'd dreamed of as a little girl, but it was real.

Today I learnt to let go of the things in my life that are broken, but I stubbornly keep believing in:

The set-top box in my linen cupboard that doesn't turn on.

The toaster in the garage with the switch that needs to be held in place.

The beautiful cream couch that is now grey.

The rubbish bin with the broken lid.

Who am I kidding? I just spend $300 of my tax return on a vacuum.

One of the boys can buy a bin.

Why Stupid People Make Me A Bad Person

2010-08-12T17:42:00.001-07:00

Firstly, I should clarify what I mean by 'stupid'. I'm talking about those people you meet who are so arrogantly ignorant as to social skills, or any real perception of their place in society. Now that I'm a student again, I'm finding these people everywhere. In my class, in the cafeteria, on the trains to and fro.

The real problem isn't these people, though. They're fine with their ignorance. They find themselves highly intelligent, highly amusing people and they dont realise, or particularly care no-one else does. The problem here is the monster I turn into when left in close quarters with these people.

I like to think of myself as tolerant, kind, non-judgemental. Hell, I've done and seen enough in my life to allow people the right to make their own choices. But these people, these people I want to kill. Seriously. Anyone who refers to themselves as 'class clown' but can't crack a joke, anyone who is determined to 'fight it out' with a teacher, anyone who insits on boring large groups of people by takling loudly about some dribble, these people make me angry. And proper angry.

I sit there and bitch and moan to anyone who will listen about how much they are annoying me. I make fun of them to their faces, but still they think I'm enjoying their company. I become a bad person.

So what's worse? Being arrogantly ignorant, or just being a bitch?

I know the answer, I just dont know how to help it.

God, they're annoying.

mid-20s crisis

2010-08-07T17:56:00.000-07:00

This year is my high-school 10 year reunion, which means I'm old enough to be invited to a 10 year reunion. My facebook has subsequently been inundated with friend requests from my class of 2000 and its super exciting to see what they are all up to. (except now I think facebook has destroyed the concept of the 10 year reunion, we already know who's married, who's fat, who's successful)

Most of the time, I can convince myself I'm happy where I am in life. I decided not to follow the career path led to me by my initial degree, and am now back to full-time study and working in a pub. And it feels good, knowing I'm young and can keep deciding what my dream is, and it doesn't matter how much time it wastes.

But every now and again, I see someone has had another baby, or gorgeous wedding photos, or some amazing job overseas, and I wonder if I've made the right choice.

Why are decisions always perfect on their own, but qualified against others we question them?

One girl in my old class is married with five kids. Five! I think I'm grown up for adopting a dog. Is 30 really the new 20? Or am I deluding myself I can keep on wasting time and get a 'real' job later?

But its okay, really. I know I'm happy, thats the main thing. I love James, I love Shaun, my job, my school. And if I'd taken the 'real' job in the first place I'd never have gotten to find out what I really love, or who I really am.

Besides, if I was in Hollywood, I'd be 40 before I'd be expected to get married and have kids.

Maybe I'll move to LA. Or New York. That sounds grown up.

no pain = no gain. whose dumb idea was that?

2010-07-29T00:37:00.000-07:00

James brought me a guitar for our anniversary. Best present ever. I've been a crap player my whole life and now have the means to get better. But to anyone who's played their first steel string before, you'll know what I mean when I say they bloody hurt!

James told me not to worry, my fingers would toughen up and it wouldn't hurt anymore. And he was right, as usual. My fingers are already callousing.

It got me thinking though, how much in life must we suffer through in the promise it'll stop hurting?

There's the obvious one, break ups. You know it'll stop hurting eventually, but the mean time is a bitch.

Headaches. Noones ever died from one (don't quote me on that, I'm totally just guessing for effect) but that time waiting for the panadol to kick in is shithouse. You've paid good money for pain relief, why the delay?

Today Tonight. You know every day at 7pm it's over, yet it still hurts everytime you turn on channel 7 and it's playing.

Rules of karma, Murphy's Law, unnecessary time in suffering.

Whoever is responsible for this travesty needs a bullet. But they'd use it to shoot a kitten or something, most probably.