Yesterday I went to the place where Jill was last seen. Walking past the church which had become a makeshift shrine for her... past the bridal shop where the influential CCTV footage had been taken of her attacker... walking past Hope street... it made me shiver. Still does.
I had to buy her flowers. After I did my jobs on Sydney Road, I went up to a shop I had driven by on my way there. The thought had been in my mind as I drove towards the area: "What colour flowers?" I don't know why it was but the thought kind of lingered in my mind, and yet there was no real question, no real hesitation in the colour that I had already chosen before the question even existed in my mind.
I reached the shop and at the front saw a small bouquet of bright red.
The image of her on all the posters we've been seeing - on the news, street poles, online - smiling with her mass of dark hair waving behind her, punctuated by her dark red lipstick, is so fresh in my mind.
However red can be a cruel colour. On the flip side, it means rage; anger; fury.
For me though, red stands for everything that is powerful, for all that is great. It means passion, desire, strength and love. It stands for old-fashioned virtues, and everything that is bold and new in this world.
The red I bought is a reminder to her, her family, and to everyone out there: the fury may have momentarily taken a beautiful woman from this world; however the love and light of the community, the city, and the world, will always win out over the scum.
The passion of red will always endure. No one can take that away.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Nightmare on Sydney Road
Humans are a truly odd race. We strive for ideal lives, aspire to the best in everything, and seek constant perfection in a clearly imperfect world. Our world is flawed indeed. We are a perverse race. We watch the despair and destruction shown to us by the news every day, our ears perk up at the slightest information of someone’s dramas and unhappiness, and we slow down to observe the wreckages that are smashed-up cars on the freeway.
Sometimes we’re lucky and the nightmares we view are far removed from us, as if we are watching them on a television screen or at the movie theatre. We are made a distant observer by our not-knowing the person involved, and ignorance to the situation at hand, unable to really comprehend the pain and anguish that the ‘other’ must be feeling. It becomes a real life play, but one that we can easily turn away from: from our computer screens, our radios and our tvs.
Although we may appear a confused and twisted race, we are nonetheless less perverse than some. Some are so sick and bitter, that their actions are hard to understand from a living point of view. It’s because these people’s motives and actions are so warped, so different and hostile from anything we’ve ever experienced, that we can only understand them from a ‘movie’ point of view. It can only be something out of a movie, we say. But unfortunately in many cases, it is not. It is real, and we are living it, living next door to and walking by these people every single day.
My predilection for horror movies and scary stories has been around for as long as I can remember. From my Mum and Dad’s stories about the mystery that surrounded them when they were young, I have always had a strong fascination for the unknown. I would watch ‘Australian’s Most Wanted,’ and ‘The Extraordinary,’ and then take flying, running-up leaps into my bed, in fear that standing too close to the foot of it would result in some unknown stranger/creature, grabbing me and taking me away to an unknown land of horror.
Stranger. Creature. Kind of one and the same when you think of what they can do.
This fascination has endured my whole life, and though I consider myself turned ‘soft’ with age, seemingly unable to watch a movie at the cinemas without covering my eyes at any footage of dark corridors, ominous shadows and rising, pitching, leading-to-something inevitable music, I am still drawn into this dark world. Angel remains one of my favourite shows of all time; I’m reading Dracula at the moment: yet it scares me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline that comes with the fear; maybe it’s the search for continuous drama. The thrill that comes after the fact is so terrifying at times, and yet I keep going back for more.
As much as these things both scare and thrill me, I’ve been fortunate: I don’t have nightmares, as such. I add these two words because I never dream about witches, ghosts, vampires or anything that’s really after me: as such. I add these two words again, in contradiction to the above, because lately, things have changed.
Sydney Road has changed. Melbourne and its people, and the characters in it, are showing their true dark colours. And its seeping into my dreams at night.
Up until just weeks ago, I didn’t really have vivid nightmares. My earliest recollection of one was probably when I was about 11 years old, of a weird animal-like creature chasing me into my house, and I remember in the dream furiously trying to get my key into the front door and open the door before IT could get to me. My neighbour was with me, and I remember it chased her down the street to her house too.
Days later when I went to her house, I discovered she had had her appendix removed. Upon review of my earlier dream, and with the information that I had been in hospital recently with the intent to get my appendix out, but it hadn’t happened due to certain recent pubescent ‘discoveries,’ I was able to deduce that this creature had ‘gotten’ her, so to speak, but not me. I was able to escape the appendix fairies.
Ever since then I’ve paid a massive amount of attention to my dreams.
If I ever had a bad dream, it was more of an eerie feeling, rather than anything actually happening. A weird lady would be cackling at me, or someone would be watching me. But there was never any fight, struggle, chase, or horrifying monster coming to get me from the shadows.
But you don’t need to dream about it for it to be real. Sometimes the monsters manifest and come for you in real life.
Last week, when the news came out that a Melbourne woman, 29 year old Jill Meagher, had been reported missing by her husband in the inner-northern suburbs of Melbourne after Friday night work drinks, the news spread quickly. Her media-related job helped the case get a lot of notice – from what I heard people she worked with kept giving the story a lot of attention. Her family set up a facebook page to find her, and being on social media, it took off.
She went missing after leaving a bar in Brunswick early Saturday morning: it was just after 1:30pm, certainly not too late by any stretch of the imagination, definitely not for the weekend. Coupled with that fact, she was walking down Sydney Road which is a pretty main road, on her way home – and home was about a 5 minute walk away.
Those were her last known whereabouts.
I heard about the case last weekend, but it wasn’t until I saw her husband on the news on Monday morning that my heart crumpled. He was so distraught, so sad, so upset; he was absolutely shattered. I couldn’t help but think of me and my own husband, and I just felt his pain, right there and then, as he hoped and prayed for any information, for her safe return, for her to come back home.
As the case received more attention, there was a sudden discovery. Police had found her handbag in a nearby laneway, in an area they had previously searched through on the weekend. This told them that possibly it had been planted there, to throw police off the assumed kidnappers trail. Unfortunately, this led the line of enquiry back to her husband, and through repeated questions and an investigative period of over 6 hours at the home he shared with his missing wife, the police came out with a definite “he is NOT a suspect.”
As much as the evidence of them spending so long at her house suggested at it being the other, something inside of me, and of the way her husband had been so pleading on the news, told me he was not the culprit. Family members and friends of the victim are always the first to be interrogated in any tragedy that befalls them, so it was no surprise that her husband would be receiving that kind of scrutiny. We’ve seen it before in other cases: years ago a man was crying out for the safe return of his pregnant wife and young daughter on the news, and days later it was discovered that HE had in fact buried them both. Sad but true, but this is where the investigations usually, firstly lead. I was so glad to see the attention moving to find the real, actual abductor.
When CCTV footage emerged of a man walking up and down Sydney Road, talking to a woman who turned out to be Jill, the investigation and the media response to it turned up a gear. Everyone was talking about it. They still are. I still get goosebumps just thinking about it all. It was only days ago that I was watching the footage at work, the cameras from a boutique store on that road that captured the footpath outside. It showed a man in a blue hoodie walk past the shop headed left, then moments later backtrack and pass to the right. It is believed that before coming onto the CCTV camera, he passed her before we can actually see, and passed the camera. Then he comes back, and comes across her before she reaches the shop. However we soon see them talking in front of it. It’s my belief that perhaps he went up ahead to see if there were any people around, to see if the coast was clear. In fact, there were. The footage shows several people walk past minutes before the hooded man and Jill come into view.
As they come into view again, from the right, it shows him talking to her, and her hovering somewhat behind. She has her mobile in hand, as if about to use it. They move to the left of screen – he is out of the field of vision, but we can still see her, lingering, almost unsure of what to do. They then move off camera, and it is assumed she followed after him.
When talking to a colleague at work about this footage, she told me some theories have emerged online about this hoodie man being the same person who has tried several times to abduct and rape other women around Melbourne. The story used by this man to reel in his victims is to say that they are being followed by someone else, and he is there to help. Although it hasn’t come out what they were talking about, her hesitation shows some degree of confusion as to what he is telling her.
As days turned into more days, hope of finding her alive dimmed. As positive as I am, I know that an investigation like this is dependent on hours rather than days to find the victim. Still, something inside of me hoped and prayed that she was alright, however dim the possibility and the chance of finding her alive seemed to be.
I’ve had nightmares lately. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about being in a haunted house with my husband, and having intense pressure weighted down on me by an unknown force – turning out to be the ghost who haunted that house. Other times I’ve woken up in a fright because of a feeling that someone is in the room, due to an eerie, weird dream I’ve had. Sometimes it just has to be a scary place, like the haunted house I dreamt about. That’s all it takes.
A couple of nights ago I woke to tell Hubbie “someone’s at the door.” I had heard knocking in the middle of the night, I was sure of it. But he assured me it was only a dream.
Nights later I dreamt of someone pushing me hard in the back. It was an intense, focused push, like a finger digging into my back. In my dream, it was Hubbie coming back from the toilet and pushing me, but when I woke up, screaming out “ahh!” I woke him up beside me. He was facing away from me, and yet the sensation of having someone push me from behind remained, like the feeling of sunburn hours after being outdoors for too long. It lingered, and that troubled me.
I didn’t know where all these dreams were coming from.
Last night, my nightmares escalated. It was night time, I was home alone and in the kitchen, and I could hear someone knocking loudly on our back sliding door. The stranger was yelling that he was going to come in if I didn’t let him in. In realising he wasn’t joking and he could perhaps be dangerous, I crept to the front door, let myself out into the darkness, and began bolting down the street. I kept looking back but there was no one to be seen. I kept running, thinking how I would run to the comfort and security of my parent’s house, but it was at this time that I started to wake up.
It seemed I’d woken up just before my alarm was to go off. I was so scared I didn’t want to get out of bed. But I eventually convinced myself that it was safe to do so, getting up, knowing I’d be late to work if I didn’t.
I listened to the radio with a keen ear on the way, knowing, hoping that surely, there would have been some development in the Jill Meagher case. It had been reported late last night that police had arrested a man after a day of questioning, but nothing had been confirmed as yet, as to whether he was the hooded man in the CCTV footage, or someone else knowing and/or responsible for her disappearance.
It was with great shock, sadness and also relief when I heard the news come through on the hour. Yes, he was the hooded man. Yes, he had been charged and arrested for her disappearance. And yes, they had found her… but not as everyone had hoped they would find her. He had led the police to her body overnight.
The few of us that were here at work crowded around the breaking news broadcasting over the TV, watching in curiosity and sadness the story that had captured the attentions of a city for the past week. I felt somewhat gratified that he had been captured: justice had prevailed, and the police had done a remarkable job of finding the man following a huge media campaign and awareness of what had happened. However it was too late, and knowing that it was probably too late even before her husband reported her missing the day after, was a sore realisation.
It’s a sad Friday morning in Melbourne. Both mine and my friends FB statuses display the sadness that this horrifying ordeal has come to. In the workplace it’s the most talked about conversation, and on the news it’s the feature story of every bulletin. Type in her name on the net, and endless searches about the case and the hooded man’s subsequent arrest abound.
And what have we learnt? What has this told us? That women shouldn’t EVER walk alone… in a world of equal opportunity and fair trial, what does it mean when a woman can’t walk home, 5 minutes to the comfort and safety of her home on a public street? What does it mean when this happens to a girl who lives in a busy neighbourhood, in a suburb you frequent, to a girl of your age, who has only been married as long as you have, and who works at a media organisation similar to yours? Who worked. What does that mean for me, for all women, for the entire city?
My imagination never let me stay secure and in a place of comfort before… I’d always look over my shoulder in my dark morning walk to work, quickly jump in and out of the car when it was night time, and turn on all the house lights as I made my way to the bathroom. I was paranoid and jumpy, just because of my upbringing, because of my preferred choice of entertainment… solely without any real reason for being, other than what I read and saw, what was fiction. Though when fiction becomes reality, and you truly have a reason to be scared… what then? Do you become a hermit, locked in your house, fearful of what’s beyond the safety of your own walls? What if what is dark and disturbing comes to you, as is the case of so many other real-life horror stories?
Thank goodness that damned cursed excuse for being is behind bars. May he be prosecuted, castrated, and all the limbs on his body slowly pulled apart, one by one, until all that remains is a big bloody mess. The universal law of Karma will ensure he gets that, and so much more. He’s hasn’t just hurt Jill, he hasn’t just hurt her family: he’s hurt an entire city.
In time, of course, our wounds will heal. Women will temporarily be on the lookout for odd-looking people, for these night creatures; they’ll travel in pairs, drive each other home with no chance of leaving them to walk alone, and avoid all conversation with randoms.
Time will heal, and with time, we’ll forget. We’re able to, because although it has happened to us, it hasn’t happened to us. As sad as it is, it will remain in the city’s subconscious… and like all things there, it will wane into a distant memory, almost forgotten, something that happened long ago.
And that is a sad thing, because things like these should never be forgotten. We should keep the memories in our minds, because with ignorance comes danger. Paranoia is a small price to pay for safety.
And that is a sober thought in the end. That the actions of a few twisted individuals of society should ruin the well-intentions of the rest of us. No one is safe anymore, and no one is allowed to ask for help, or be nice to anyone.
Like my dream, we can all run away. We can run away from the danger in our minds, push it far away, and pray for the stranger not to follow. We can do it, because all it is for us is a thought in our minds.
Jill sadly, cannot run away. She couldn’t. Her husband and her family can’t run away from it either, for it will remain a walking nightmare for them for the rest of their lives. I pray for them, and hope that they can take some comfort in knowing that justice will on some level be served.
R.I.P. Jill Meagher.
Sometimes we’re lucky and the nightmares we view are far removed from us, as if we are watching them on a television screen or at the movie theatre. We are made a distant observer by our not-knowing the person involved, and ignorance to the situation at hand, unable to really comprehend the pain and anguish that the ‘other’ must be feeling. It becomes a real life play, but one that we can easily turn away from: from our computer screens, our radios and our tvs.
Although we may appear a confused and twisted race, we are nonetheless less perverse than some. Some are so sick and bitter, that their actions are hard to understand from a living point of view. It’s because these people’s motives and actions are so warped, so different and hostile from anything we’ve ever experienced, that we can only understand them from a ‘movie’ point of view. It can only be something out of a movie, we say. But unfortunately in many cases, it is not. It is real, and we are living it, living next door to and walking by these people every single day.
My predilection for horror movies and scary stories has been around for as long as I can remember. From my Mum and Dad’s stories about the mystery that surrounded them when they were young, I have always had a strong fascination for the unknown. I would watch ‘Australian’s Most Wanted,’ and ‘The Extraordinary,’ and then take flying, running-up leaps into my bed, in fear that standing too close to the foot of it would result in some unknown stranger/creature, grabbing me and taking me away to an unknown land of horror.
Stranger. Creature. Kind of one and the same when you think of what they can do.
This fascination has endured my whole life, and though I consider myself turned ‘soft’ with age, seemingly unable to watch a movie at the cinemas without covering my eyes at any footage of dark corridors, ominous shadows and rising, pitching, leading-to-something inevitable music, I am still drawn into this dark world. Angel remains one of my favourite shows of all time; I’m reading Dracula at the moment: yet it scares me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline that comes with the fear; maybe it’s the search for continuous drama. The thrill that comes after the fact is so terrifying at times, and yet I keep going back for more.
As much as these things both scare and thrill me, I’ve been fortunate: I don’t have nightmares, as such. I add these two words because I never dream about witches, ghosts, vampires or anything that’s really after me: as such. I add these two words again, in contradiction to the above, because lately, things have changed.
Sydney Road has changed. Melbourne and its people, and the characters in it, are showing their true dark colours. And its seeping into my dreams at night.
Up until just weeks ago, I didn’t really have vivid nightmares. My earliest recollection of one was probably when I was about 11 years old, of a weird animal-like creature chasing me into my house, and I remember in the dream furiously trying to get my key into the front door and open the door before IT could get to me. My neighbour was with me, and I remember it chased her down the street to her house too.
Days later when I went to her house, I discovered she had had her appendix removed. Upon review of my earlier dream, and with the information that I had been in hospital recently with the intent to get my appendix out, but it hadn’t happened due to certain recent pubescent ‘discoveries,’ I was able to deduce that this creature had ‘gotten’ her, so to speak, but not me. I was able to escape the appendix fairies.
Ever since then I’ve paid a massive amount of attention to my dreams.
If I ever had a bad dream, it was more of an eerie feeling, rather than anything actually happening. A weird lady would be cackling at me, or someone would be watching me. But there was never any fight, struggle, chase, or horrifying monster coming to get me from the shadows.
But you don’t need to dream about it for it to be real. Sometimes the monsters manifest and come for you in real life.
Last week, when the news came out that a Melbourne woman, 29 year old Jill Meagher, had been reported missing by her husband in the inner-northern suburbs of Melbourne after Friday night work drinks, the news spread quickly. Her media-related job helped the case get a lot of notice – from what I heard people she worked with kept giving the story a lot of attention. Her family set up a facebook page to find her, and being on social media, it took off.
She went missing after leaving a bar in Brunswick early Saturday morning: it was just after 1:30pm, certainly not too late by any stretch of the imagination, definitely not for the weekend. Coupled with that fact, she was walking down Sydney Road which is a pretty main road, on her way home – and home was about a 5 minute walk away.
Those were her last known whereabouts.
I heard about the case last weekend, but it wasn’t until I saw her husband on the news on Monday morning that my heart crumpled. He was so distraught, so sad, so upset; he was absolutely shattered. I couldn’t help but think of me and my own husband, and I just felt his pain, right there and then, as he hoped and prayed for any information, for her safe return, for her to come back home.
As the case received more attention, there was a sudden discovery. Police had found her handbag in a nearby laneway, in an area they had previously searched through on the weekend. This told them that possibly it had been planted there, to throw police off the assumed kidnappers trail. Unfortunately, this led the line of enquiry back to her husband, and through repeated questions and an investigative period of over 6 hours at the home he shared with his missing wife, the police came out with a definite “he is NOT a suspect.”
As much as the evidence of them spending so long at her house suggested at it being the other, something inside of me, and of the way her husband had been so pleading on the news, told me he was not the culprit. Family members and friends of the victim are always the first to be interrogated in any tragedy that befalls them, so it was no surprise that her husband would be receiving that kind of scrutiny. We’ve seen it before in other cases: years ago a man was crying out for the safe return of his pregnant wife and young daughter on the news, and days later it was discovered that HE had in fact buried them both. Sad but true, but this is where the investigations usually, firstly lead. I was so glad to see the attention moving to find the real, actual abductor.
When CCTV footage emerged of a man walking up and down Sydney Road, talking to a woman who turned out to be Jill, the investigation and the media response to it turned up a gear. Everyone was talking about it. They still are. I still get goosebumps just thinking about it all. It was only days ago that I was watching the footage at work, the cameras from a boutique store on that road that captured the footpath outside. It showed a man in a blue hoodie walk past the shop headed left, then moments later backtrack and pass to the right. It is believed that before coming onto the CCTV camera, he passed her before we can actually see, and passed the camera. Then he comes back, and comes across her before she reaches the shop. However we soon see them talking in front of it. It’s my belief that perhaps he went up ahead to see if there were any people around, to see if the coast was clear. In fact, there were. The footage shows several people walk past minutes before the hooded man and Jill come into view.
As they come into view again, from the right, it shows him talking to her, and her hovering somewhat behind. She has her mobile in hand, as if about to use it. They move to the left of screen – he is out of the field of vision, but we can still see her, lingering, almost unsure of what to do. They then move off camera, and it is assumed she followed after him.
When talking to a colleague at work about this footage, she told me some theories have emerged online about this hoodie man being the same person who has tried several times to abduct and rape other women around Melbourne. The story used by this man to reel in his victims is to say that they are being followed by someone else, and he is there to help. Although it hasn’t come out what they were talking about, her hesitation shows some degree of confusion as to what he is telling her.
As days turned into more days, hope of finding her alive dimmed. As positive as I am, I know that an investigation like this is dependent on hours rather than days to find the victim. Still, something inside of me hoped and prayed that she was alright, however dim the possibility and the chance of finding her alive seemed to be.
I’ve had nightmares lately. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about being in a haunted house with my husband, and having intense pressure weighted down on me by an unknown force – turning out to be the ghost who haunted that house. Other times I’ve woken up in a fright because of a feeling that someone is in the room, due to an eerie, weird dream I’ve had. Sometimes it just has to be a scary place, like the haunted house I dreamt about. That’s all it takes.
A couple of nights ago I woke to tell Hubbie “someone’s at the door.” I had heard knocking in the middle of the night, I was sure of it. But he assured me it was only a dream.
Nights later I dreamt of someone pushing me hard in the back. It was an intense, focused push, like a finger digging into my back. In my dream, it was Hubbie coming back from the toilet and pushing me, but when I woke up, screaming out “ahh!” I woke him up beside me. He was facing away from me, and yet the sensation of having someone push me from behind remained, like the feeling of sunburn hours after being outdoors for too long. It lingered, and that troubled me.
I didn’t know where all these dreams were coming from.
Last night, my nightmares escalated. It was night time, I was home alone and in the kitchen, and I could hear someone knocking loudly on our back sliding door. The stranger was yelling that he was going to come in if I didn’t let him in. In realising he wasn’t joking and he could perhaps be dangerous, I crept to the front door, let myself out into the darkness, and began bolting down the street. I kept looking back but there was no one to be seen. I kept running, thinking how I would run to the comfort and security of my parent’s house, but it was at this time that I started to wake up.
It seemed I’d woken up just before my alarm was to go off. I was so scared I didn’t want to get out of bed. But I eventually convinced myself that it was safe to do so, getting up, knowing I’d be late to work if I didn’t.
I listened to the radio with a keen ear on the way, knowing, hoping that surely, there would have been some development in the Jill Meagher case. It had been reported late last night that police had arrested a man after a day of questioning, but nothing had been confirmed as yet, as to whether he was the hooded man in the CCTV footage, or someone else knowing and/or responsible for her disappearance.
It was with great shock, sadness and also relief when I heard the news come through on the hour. Yes, he was the hooded man. Yes, he had been charged and arrested for her disappearance. And yes, they had found her… but not as everyone had hoped they would find her. He had led the police to her body overnight.
The few of us that were here at work crowded around the breaking news broadcasting over the TV, watching in curiosity and sadness the story that had captured the attentions of a city for the past week. I felt somewhat gratified that he had been captured: justice had prevailed, and the police had done a remarkable job of finding the man following a huge media campaign and awareness of what had happened. However it was too late, and knowing that it was probably too late even before her husband reported her missing the day after, was a sore realisation.
It’s a sad Friday morning in Melbourne. Both mine and my friends FB statuses display the sadness that this horrifying ordeal has come to. In the workplace it’s the most talked about conversation, and on the news it’s the feature story of every bulletin. Type in her name on the net, and endless searches about the case and the hooded man’s subsequent arrest abound.
And what have we learnt? What has this told us? That women shouldn’t EVER walk alone… in a world of equal opportunity and fair trial, what does it mean when a woman can’t walk home, 5 minutes to the comfort and safety of her home on a public street? What does it mean when this happens to a girl who lives in a busy neighbourhood, in a suburb you frequent, to a girl of your age, who has only been married as long as you have, and who works at a media organisation similar to yours? Who worked. What does that mean for me, for all women, for the entire city?
My imagination never let me stay secure and in a place of comfort before… I’d always look over my shoulder in my dark morning walk to work, quickly jump in and out of the car when it was night time, and turn on all the house lights as I made my way to the bathroom. I was paranoid and jumpy, just because of my upbringing, because of my preferred choice of entertainment… solely without any real reason for being, other than what I read and saw, what was fiction. Though when fiction becomes reality, and you truly have a reason to be scared… what then? Do you become a hermit, locked in your house, fearful of what’s beyond the safety of your own walls? What if what is dark and disturbing comes to you, as is the case of so many other real-life horror stories?
Thank goodness that damned cursed excuse for being is behind bars. May he be prosecuted, castrated, and all the limbs on his body slowly pulled apart, one by one, until all that remains is a big bloody mess. The universal law of Karma will ensure he gets that, and so much more. He’s hasn’t just hurt Jill, he hasn’t just hurt her family: he’s hurt an entire city.
In time, of course, our wounds will heal. Women will temporarily be on the lookout for odd-looking people, for these night creatures; they’ll travel in pairs, drive each other home with no chance of leaving them to walk alone, and avoid all conversation with randoms.
Time will heal, and with time, we’ll forget. We’re able to, because although it has happened to us, it hasn’t happened to us. As sad as it is, it will remain in the city’s subconscious… and like all things there, it will wane into a distant memory, almost forgotten, something that happened long ago.
And that is a sad thing, because things like these should never be forgotten. We should keep the memories in our minds, because with ignorance comes danger. Paranoia is a small price to pay for safety.
And that is a sober thought in the end. That the actions of a few twisted individuals of society should ruin the well-intentions of the rest of us. No one is safe anymore, and no one is allowed to ask for help, or be nice to anyone.
Like my dream, we can all run away. We can run away from the danger in our minds, push it far away, and pray for the stranger not to follow. We can do it, because all it is for us is a thought in our minds.
Jill sadly, cannot run away. She couldn’t. Her husband and her family can’t run away from it either, for it will remain a walking nightmare for them for the rest of their lives. I pray for them, and hope that they can take some comfort in knowing that justice will on some level be served.
R.I.P. Jill Meagher.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Glass half-full Gal
All I remember is that my last post was about something where I was trying to be funny and light-hearted despite the world-turning that’s been going on since the beginning of the year.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Symmetry is screwed.... (The Peculiarity of Symmetry Part 2)
So last night we got a phone call from Hubbie's best mate. He'd heard the bad news that a guy I went to high school with, or rather we all went to high school with but he was closer in age to me and my friends, well he died on the weekend from a motorbike accident.
We were really shocked, myself probably more so. We were in several classes together, we spoke often, and I have vivid memories of him. He wasn't like a friend friend, but you know when the whole class sort of knows everyone, and everyone interacts? Well he was that person to me and my friends. At one point he was something more to one of my friends, but we'll get to that later.
He meant well, but for some reason as he got older, he deliberately pursued getting involved with the bad crowd. He deliberately made trouble in and out of class so as to gain attention, and be recognised as a bad boy. We could really see through it. Maybe that was due to the fact that he was a year younger than us, and we weren't as easily impressed by those tactics than if they had been performed by someone older than us who we feared/looked up to. That goes hand in hand in high school.
So when I heard the news about (we'll call him Seven) him yesterday, I couldn't help but think about him and be shocked by the whole events. I hadn't really heard of him since those high school days, and every so often if someone from that year was mentioned, my mind couldn't help but wander and think of where he had ended up.
So Red was my friend who he was more than just a school friend to at one stage. He was the first guy she kissed, however it didn't go any further than that, and all of us, with he and his friends, remained good friends throughout those early years of high school.
I called Red yesterday to see if she had heard. I already suspected she may have, just with the fact that everyone knows everyone: and she had. She was shocked too by it all. And then she told me something else.
"Miss S, did you hear about - (we'll call him Wavy)?"
"Which wavy?" (there are a lot of people with this common name Wavy.)
"Wavy, the one you kissed?"
"What?"
"He had c------."
I couldn't hear her. "What?"
"He had cancer. He died months ago."
I was floored. This was a guy I hadn't seen since my high school days either. I'd often wondered where he had ended up, as usually I saw some people from high school around and about, shopping, clubs, whatever. But he and his friends, (and he was sort of in the same group as Seven) I never heard anything of, and I always wondered if they were all in some bad crowd and that's why we never saw them.
Both Seven and Wavy were in similar groups. They were both a year younger than Red and I. They had died within months of each other. And they were both our first kiss'.
....
....
....
They say bad luck comes in threes, but for something like this, so horrible to happen, and then to start to see the likeness behind it all, the weird 'coincidences', is scary. I was more in shock yesterday, keen to get home and check facebook because Red told me she'd seen a memorial page for him there. She'd kept forgetting to tell me about it.
It was so hard to find it. I didnt know his last name, and I was trying all kinds of searches. And then the net kept playing up on me. Finally, after midnight last night (or should I say this morning) I found the R.I.P page dedicated to him. It was a combination of sickness, shock and dark acceptance that ran through me as I looked at the photo they had put up of him. Wavy's photo looked like him, just a but more manly, you know how guys bulk up a bit over time. Then I went to look at more photos of him that had been put up, and I almost turned away saying "no that's not him."
That horrible horrible disease. He didn't look like him. I feel so upset just thinking of it now. It's so unfair. I actually convinced myself for a moment that I had the wrong Wavy, until I looked closer at the photos. His face looked different, and his hair was closely shaved due to the treatment I'm guesing. He was such a good looking guy. He was really sweet, and really nice.
He never treated me bad. There was in fact nothing he ever did wrong. It was all me, and never was the statement "it's not you, it's me" more truer than in this case. Honestly, I liked him, and I had him for a short while until I realised I wanted something different. I was honest with him when I broke it off, and although he took it well, I have so much guilt now, wondering if I hurt his feelings or made him feel horrible.
It's amazing you know. You don't think someone has affected you, until they're gone. It's weird because I've thought of him at odd times during the years, and at one point said to myself "it's like he's fallen off the face of the earth." I actually thought that. And a couple of months ago, I thought I saw him on a train. But thinking of those photos I saw, that wasn't him on the train. Definitely not.
It may sound overly self-indulgent, and I don't mean it to sound that way, but I just hope that none of my actions affected him and made his life different. I may not have had that kind of impact on his life, just from one moment in time: and hey, I really hope I didn't. I just pray and hope that he had lots of love and happiness surrounding him at all times. And that he wasn't alone. Even though ultimately, we all die alone.
It's breaking me up inside.
I've already kind of said my goodbye, but it still feels weird, unfinished. I wish I'd known. I don't know what I could have done, what I would have done, but I almost feel like asking Red if she wants to visit their gravesites, even though I have no idea where they are. She's as blown away by all this as I am, and she is also freaking out about the symmetry of it all.
I've had a cousin murdered, another cousin commit suicide, an aunty die suddenly of cancer; and as devastating as all those things were, I'm really shook by this. They were both so young, younger than myself. For Wavy, especially, I know it's cliche to say but he didn't deserve it. He was really a greay guy. As someone on his memory page said, he hadn't even had a chance to be a husband, a father. That is so unfair.
Because he played such a monumental role in my life, as short as the time was, that's why I think I'm so blown away by it all. He died such a short time ago, and his family and friends are still writing things on his page and posting photos. It was devastating to read, but I guess good knowing he was so loved, is so loved.
I hadn't seen him for such a long time. Never would I imagine this would happen, and that he would mark such strong emotions in me after his death. I'm still in shock. I don't know what to think. I pray and hope he is safe, well and in peace where he is right now.
When it comes to death, I have no answers. I try to live my life on a positive scale every day, and look at the good, and the secret messages in everything, even the bad. I struggle when it comes to death though. As I wrote to Red "The only thing we can do is take this experience and use it to keep pursuing our dreams, keep moving forward. We can only try."
We are the lucky ones. We are still breathing, still living. Every day is a blessing. Be happy (although I'm almost crying). Live life to the fullest. Do what your heart says. Because for some, life is too short, and for others, it is too painful. So enjoy the moments you have, and always be grateful that at the very least you have your breath.
R.I.P Seven.
R.I.P Wavy. I will always remember you.
We were really shocked, myself probably more so. We were in several classes together, we spoke often, and I have vivid memories of him. He wasn't like a friend friend, but you know when the whole class sort of knows everyone, and everyone interacts? Well he was that person to me and my friends. At one point he was something more to one of my friends, but we'll get to that later.
He meant well, but for some reason as he got older, he deliberately pursued getting involved with the bad crowd. He deliberately made trouble in and out of class so as to gain attention, and be recognised as a bad boy. We could really see through it. Maybe that was due to the fact that he was a year younger than us, and we weren't as easily impressed by those tactics than if they had been performed by someone older than us who we feared/looked up to. That goes hand in hand in high school.
So when I heard the news about (we'll call him Seven) him yesterday, I couldn't help but think about him and be shocked by the whole events. I hadn't really heard of him since those high school days, and every so often if someone from that year was mentioned, my mind couldn't help but wander and think of where he had ended up.
So Red was my friend who he was more than just a school friend to at one stage. He was the first guy she kissed, however it didn't go any further than that, and all of us, with he and his friends, remained good friends throughout those early years of high school.
I called Red yesterday to see if she had heard. I already suspected she may have, just with the fact that everyone knows everyone: and she had. She was shocked too by it all. And then she told me something else.
"Miss S, did you hear about - (we'll call him Wavy)?"
"Which wavy?" (there are a lot of people with this common name Wavy.)
"Wavy, the one you kissed?"
"What?"
"He had c------."
I couldn't hear her. "What?"
"He had cancer. He died months ago."
I was floored. This was a guy I hadn't seen since my high school days either. I'd often wondered where he had ended up, as usually I saw some people from high school around and about, shopping, clubs, whatever. But he and his friends, (and he was sort of in the same group as Seven) I never heard anything of, and I always wondered if they were all in some bad crowd and that's why we never saw them.
Both Seven and Wavy were in similar groups. They were both a year younger than Red and I. They had died within months of each other. And they were both our first kiss'.
....
....
....
They say bad luck comes in threes, but for something like this, so horrible to happen, and then to start to see the likeness behind it all, the weird 'coincidences', is scary. I was more in shock yesterday, keen to get home and check facebook because Red told me she'd seen a memorial page for him there. She'd kept forgetting to tell me about it.
It was so hard to find it. I didnt know his last name, and I was trying all kinds of searches. And then the net kept playing up on me. Finally, after midnight last night (or should I say this morning) I found the R.I.P page dedicated to him. It was a combination of sickness, shock and dark acceptance that ran through me as I looked at the photo they had put up of him. Wavy's photo looked like him, just a but more manly, you know how guys bulk up a bit over time. Then I went to look at more photos of him that had been put up, and I almost turned away saying "no that's not him."
That horrible horrible disease. He didn't look like him. I feel so upset just thinking of it now. It's so unfair. I actually convinced myself for a moment that I had the wrong Wavy, until I looked closer at the photos. His face looked different, and his hair was closely shaved due to the treatment I'm guesing. He was such a good looking guy. He was really sweet, and really nice.
He never treated me bad. There was in fact nothing he ever did wrong. It was all me, and never was the statement "it's not you, it's me" more truer than in this case. Honestly, I liked him, and I had him for a short while until I realised I wanted something different. I was honest with him when I broke it off, and although he took it well, I have so much guilt now, wondering if I hurt his feelings or made him feel horrible.
It's amazing you know. You don't think someone has affected you, until they're gone. It's weird because I've thought of him at odd times during the years, and at one point said to myself "it's like he's fallen off the face of the earth." I actually thought that. And a couple of months ago, I thought I saw him on a train. But thinking of those photos I saw, that wasn't him on the train. Definitely not.
It may sound overly self-indulgent, and I don't mean it to sound that way, but I just hope that none of my actions affected him and made his life different. I may not have had that kind of impact on his life, just from one moment in time: and hey, I really hope I didn't. I just pray and hope that he had lots of love and happiness surrounding him at all times. And that he wasn't alone. Even though ultimately, we all die alone.
It's breaking me up inside.
I've already kind of said my goodbye, but it still feels weird, unfinished. I wish I'd known. I don't know what I could have done, what I would have done, but I almost feel like asking Red if she wants to visit their gravesites, even though I have no idea where they are. She's as blown away by all this as I am, and she is also freaking out about the symmetry of it all.
I've had a cousin murdered, another cousin commit suicide, an aunty die suddenly of cancer; and as devastating as all those things were, I'm really shook by this. They were both so young, younger than myself. For Wavy, especially, I know it's cliche to say but he didn't deserve it. He was really a greay guy. As someone on his memory page said, he hadn't even had a chance to be a husband, a father. That is so unfair.
Because he played such a monumental role in my life, as short as the time was, that's why I think I'm so blown away by it all. He died such a short time ago, and his family and friends are still writing things on his page and posting photos. It was devastating to read, but I guess good knowing he was so loved, is so loved.
I hadn't seen him for such a long time. Never would I imagine this would happen, and that he would mark such strong emotions in me after his death. I'm still in shock. I don't know what to think. I pray and hope he is safe, well and in peace where he is right now.
When it comes to death, I have no answers. I try to live my life on a positive scale every day, and look at the good, and the secret messages in everything, even the bad. I struggle when it comes to death though. As I wrote to Red "The only thing we can do is take this experience and use it to keep pursuing our dreams, keep moving forward. We can only try."
We are the lucky ones. We are still breathing, still living. Every day is a blessing. Be happy (although I'm almost crying). Live life to the fullest. Do what your heart says. Because for some, life is too short, and for others, it is too painful. So enjoy the moments you have, and always be grateful that at the very least you have your breath.
R.I.P Seven.
R.I.P Wavy. I will always remember you.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
New Year, New Decade
Oh wow. Just as I'm writing this, Hubbie and mine's first song, is on tv. It's our song well and truly, amongst others. This song came out in about July 2000, right before we started going out. 10 years ago. Well 11 now.
How appropriate, that it come on, as I start a post about the last year, last decade, and try to determine what the future holds.
WOW. What memories. I've just been taken back.
So, in the last year, there have been some changes, some growth within my life. Hubbie and I purchased a block of land. We made 1 year of marriage (!) which is a celebration in itself, LOL.
Work wise, I've developed substantially, gradually taking on more and more responsibility in my bosses absences. To the point that my bosses boss, says to me "I want you to keep learning, keep asking questions.... so that you may become like her..... understudy."
Shit. Those are big shoes to fill. I gratefully accept the compliments and the belief in my abilities, as to where it all leads, I guess we'll just have to wait and see:)
Relationship wise: as mentioned Hubbie and I made one year. Which sort of pales in comparison to the 10 years we've already been together, but marriage brings about different challenges that can't be experienced in a partnership where you don't live together. Marriage is wonderful, and it's awesome to be your own bosses: eat what you like, get up and go to sleep whenever. If you're cold, put the heater on! They sound like basic things I know, but don't forget the entertaining, the visitors, the parties, the going out. And with all of that comes massive compromise, and that's why marriage is different. Everything is shared, everything is part of you. His family is mine, and my family is his. There are disagreements, arguments, tears and outbursts. There's a bit of getting used to.
But after all of that? Despite the differences, the opposites in behaviour, the coming together of personalities, we are essentially the same people, and love the same things, and want the same things. That helps SOOO much. And last night, lying in bed, as his arm was outstretched over my body, my free hand on his shoulder as my other hand held the open book to read, I thought of how much I loved him. Despite the differences, despite families, despite EVERYTHING, I thought of how much I love him, how much MORE I love him after 10 years. And that tells me everything. Love grows and feeds off of itself. It develops into something so deep, that trivial crap, and itty-bitty bullshit, just doesn't even gain a speck on its radar. It's beyond anything comprehensible. We have so much of it within us, and when we emit it, it comes back to us two-fold, which is an incredible feeling.
So Hubbie and I are good:)
Family and Friends: Yes and yes, but sometimes no. Reading back on any of my blogs over the last year, you could not say that I have the most positive views on some family members, friends and people I know. But you know what, it's not a perfect world, there are no 'perfect' families and with the amount of differing personalities out there, it's impossible for all of us to get along. Having said that, I've learnt that you need to sometimes turn a blind eye, not look too much into things, and also as I mentioned in my "Christmas Wishes" post, wish the person who upsets you most, well. People who I couldn't stand, who I was extrememly disappointed in and let down by, I now feel differently about. I've accepted them as human, not perfect, and clearly with faults, like you, me and everyone else. I've zoned in on the positive, and really, that works. It's helped me so much, and I believe my negative downward spiral of unhappy family/friend realtionships have actually come to an end. Maybe even with Mouth and Moody. OMG. I know, incredible right?
Other fabulous news-worthy items: collingwood won, I saw George Michael and Hubbie and I holidayed in the sunshine state. There are so many more things, but I wanted this post to be future-oriented, rather than concerned with the past.
Having said that, I must look back on this last decade, just quickly :)
I get a very nervous feeling when I think that, because I know what's coming: this last decade, I went from an unattached 16 going on 17 year-old, to a girl going out with a guy who would later become her husband. How wonderful and weird this world is:) I finished high school, started and finished uni, had about 5 jobs until I found my current full-time one. Got married following a mammoth wedding, travelled through a good portion of Europe, and am now living contently a year and a half later.
So when I think of the next 10 years, the next decade, and wonder what my thoughts will be on the last 10 years, THEN, nervous tension bubbles in the pit of my stomach. I know it will involve a new home, expansion of family, friends getting married, and more kids, EVERYWHERE.
I guess change is always scary. Gosh I feel like crying now. I don't know what it is. Sometimes we're so comfortable where we are, that we don't want to move forward, we want to stay stationary in a moment in time. That's how I felt last night. As I've said quite regularly, I'm in a selfish phase of life. It's all about me, and Hubbie. My Hubbie, my life, my job, my car, my clothes, my friends, my family. Me me me. The thought of that changing freaks me out. I know how much I value myself and my life, and so I know that my attention shifting to something else, is something so foreign and almost unnatural, that I think that is what is really freaking me out. The changing of values, lifestyle.
You know what? I don't think it's good to look too far into the future. It can be scary. You don't know what to expect, and how things will transpire.
Not knowing is terrifying. But again as I say that, I am suddenly reminded of myself at the end of the last decade. Knowing all that I do now, having achieved so much academically, professionally, having a loving husband and wonderful family and friends, on our way to building a home, well! Telling my 16 year old self then, she would have freaked to find out so much! But having lived through it, step by step, it wasn't so scary. Interesting, challenging and life-evolving, that's what it was. It's life, it's growth and it's perfectly natural. You take each day at a time, and see where it leads you.
Which is why we do resolutions for a year ahead. It's less confronting:)
So I'm taking a deep breath and now focusing on the year ahead!
I took a peek at my resolutions from the past year, half cringing because I'd half forgotten them, but having re-read them I was pleasantly surprised:
1. To increase my Vitamin D intake by sitting in the sun more ( I love doing it anyway! ) and eating foods that are rich in the vitamin.
So yes lately especially, I've been in the sun heaps, to the point that Hubbie called me something not so nice as a joke in response to my darkened state. I took it as a compliment:) I have it all worked out: in spring and summer I get natural Vit D from the sun, in autumn/winter I take my Vit D supplements. As for the foods rich in Vit D, I try, when I can, but because the food sources are so scarce, I don't stress myself out over them.
2. To decrease arm fat.
Hmmm. So recently actually, I've started running around with Hubbie as he trains for, plays basketball. I think all the shooting and passing of the ball is helping, however until just recently I was quite slack in the department of decreasing arm fat, I didn't really do much. I'm hoping the new year will change that. Look, I don't have a fat arm problem, but I strive for perfection, as dangeous as that pursuit is.
3. To generally get more toned, in particular to target my tummy and reduce the fat there.
As per above comments. I haven't done much exercise to target that, but all the housework and busy lifestyle have helped me, somehow. Which is great.
4. To read more.
So this I have done more of. And I continue to do more of, given my upcoming 2011 resolutions. Read on.
2011 Resolutions
1. To read, HEAPS more. In fact, I want to set up some sort of column/box within my blogger page, so that I can list the books I wanna read and then so to speak 'tick' them off when I do. Seeing it everytime I log into blogger will help me be more aware of it too. I want to read more to help my writing as well (see below resolution), as I want to be more aware of different writing styles, different authors, different stories. I want to know so much, the need to read and research is so great within me right now.
2. To complete my first book by the end of the year. By complete I mean finish writing to my satisfactory standard, so that I can start promoting it to agents, or however it goes. As nervous as I get when I think of it, I think it is a realistic goal. One story, one year. I'm sure some would think I've given myself too much time even, however what I want to do is start something big, and I need the proper research, planning and education to get it right off the bat, so that when I continue with my following books, it all flows perfectly and effortlessly.
3. To get fit. Whether it's playing basketball with Hubbie, taking on yoga, or just getting into long walks/runs, I really want to make it a part of my life. I make health-oriented goals each year, and I know that with some of them, I do somewhat succeed, but others are just a waste of written space. I don't want that to be the case this year. I really want to make an effort of it. And seeing myself in my mind, with the body I want, is motivation enough.
4. To improve all my relationships, full-stop. To not sweat the small stuff, which will be assisted by the Richard Carlson "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" daily calendar Red bought me for chrissy. To relax, not worry, see the postive in everyone and all things. To wish the people that annoy me, well, and MEAN it.
5. To continue on my path of spiritual growth and self-development. To keep reading books on bettering myself and my life, and to continue striving toward my dreams.
6. To enjoy life. Just the other day I said to Hubbie, "I want to enjoy our city; go out for coffee, walk through parks, just go out." It doesn't have to break the bank. Often the simplest things are the most rewarding. Taking a walk along the beach; eating an ice cream; sitting on a park bench. I want to observe, absorb, feel and create. I want to feel the sun on my face, be a part of life, experience all that is to offer. I want to live every day of my life. Because that's what we're here to do.
So, those are my dreams for the coming year. And being in the frame of mind that I am, I think I will do quite well (just between you and me:))
Remember: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
Happy new year, Happy New Decade :-D
How appropriate, that it come on, as I start a post about the last year, last decade, and try to determine what the future holds.
WOW. What memories. I've just been taken back.
So, in the last year, there have been some changes, some growth within my life. Hubbie and I purchased a block of land. We made 1 year of marriage (!) which is a celebration in itself, LOL.
Work wise, I've developed substantially, gradually taking on more and more responsibility in my bosses absences. To the point that my bosses boss, says to me "I want you to keep learning, keep asking questions.... so that you may become like her..... understudy."
Shit. Those are big shoes to fill. I gratefully accept the compliments and the belief in my abilities, as to where it all leads, I guess we'll just have to wait and see:)
Relationship wise: as mentioned Hubbie and I made one year. Which sort of pales in comparison to the 10 years we've already been together, but marriage brings about different challenges that can't be experienced in a partnership where you don't live together. Marriage is wonderful, and it's awesome to be your own bosses: eat what you like, get up and go to sleep whenever. If you're cold, put the heater on! They sound like basic things I know, but don't forget the entertaining, the visitors, the parties, the going out. And with all of that comes massive compromise, and that's why marriage is different. Everything is shared, everything is part of you. His family is mine, and my family is his. There are disagreements, arguments, tears and outbursts. There's a bit of getting used to.
But after all of that? Despite the differences, the opposites in behaviour, the coming together of personalities, we are essentially the same people, and love the same things, and want the same things. That helps SOOO much. And last night, lying in bed, as his arm was outstretched over my body, my free hand on his shoulder as my other hand held the open book to read, I thought of how much I loved him. Despite the differences, despite families, despite EVERYTHING, I thought of how much I love him, how much MORE I love him after 10 years. And that tells me everything. Love grows and feeds off of itself. It develops into something so deep, that trivial crap, and itty-bitty bullshit, just doesn't even gain a speck on its radar. It's beyond anything comprehensible. We have so much of it within us, and when we emit it, it comes back to us two-fold, which is an incredible feeling.
So Hubbie and I are good:)
Family and Friends: Yes and yes, but sometimes no. Reading back on any of my blogs over the last year, you could not say that I have the most positive views on some family members, friends and people I know. But you know what, it's not a perfect world, there are no 'perfect' families and with the amount of differing personalities out there, it's impossible for all of us to get along. Having said that, I've learnt that you need to sometimes turn a blind eye, not look too much into things, and also as I mentioned in my "Christmas Wishes" post, wish the person who upsets you most, well. People who I couldn't stand, who I was extrememly disappointed in and let down by, I now feel differently about. I've accepted them as human, not perfect, and clearly with faults, like you, me and everyone else. I've zoned in on the positive, and really, that works. It's helped me so much, and I believe my negative downward spiral of unhappy family/friend realtionships have actually come to an end. Maybe even with Mouth and Moody. OMG. I know, incredible right?
Other fabulous news-worthy items: collingwood won, I saw George Michael and Hubbie and I holidayed in the sunshine state. There are so many more things, but I wanted this post to be future-oriented, rather than concerned with the past.
Having said that, I must look back on this last decade, just quickly :)
I get a very nervous feeling when I think that, because I know what's coming: this last decade, I went from an unattached 16 going on 17 year-old, to a girl going out with a guy who would later become her husband. How wonderful and weird this world is:) I finished high school, started and finished uni, had about 5 jobs until I found my current full-time one. Got married following a mammoth wedding, travelled through a good portion of Europe, and am now living contently a year and a half later.
So when I think of the next 10 years, the next decade, and wonder what my thoughts will be on the last 10 years, THEN, nervous tension bubbles in the pit of my stomach. I know it will involve a new home, expansion of family, friends getting married, and more kids, EVERYWHERE.
I guess change is always scary. Gosh I feel like crying now. I don't know what it is. Sometimes we're so comfortable where we are, that we don't want to move forward, we want to stay stationary in a moment in time. That's how I felt last night. As I've said quite regularly, I'm in a selfish phase of life. It's all about me, and Hubbie. My Hubbie, my life, my job, my car, my clothes, my friends, my family. Me me me. The thought of that changing freaks me out. I know how much I value myself and my life, and so I know that my attention shifting to something else, is something so foreign and almost unnatural, that I think that is what is really freaking me out. The changing of values, lifestyle.
You know what? I don't think it's good to look too far into the future. It can be scary. You don't know what to expect, and how things will transpire.
Not knowing is terrifying. But again as I say that, I am suddenly reminded of myself at the end of the last decade. Knowing all that I do now, having achieved so much academically, professionally, having a loving husband and wonderful family and friends, on our way to building a home, well! Telling my 16 year old self then, she would have freaked to find out so much! But having lived through it, step by step, it wasn't so scary. Interesting, challenging and life-evolving, that's what it was. It's life, it's growth and it's perfectly natural. You take each day at a time, and see where it leads you.
Which is why we do resolutions for a year ahead. It's less confronting:)
So I'm taking a deep breath and now focusing on the year ahead!
I took a peek at my resolutions from the past year, half cringing because I'd half forgotten them, but having re-read them I was pleasantly surprised:
1. To increase my Vitamin D intake by sitting in the sun more ( I love doing it anyway! ) and eating foods that are rich in the vitamin.
So yes lately especially, I've been in the sun heaps, to the point that Hubbie called me something not so nice as a joke in response to my darkened state. I took it as a compliment:) I have it all worked out: in spring and summer I get natural Vit D from the sun, in autumn/winter I take my Vit D supplements. As for the foods rich in Vit D, I try, when I can, but because the food sources are so scarce, I don't stress myself out over them.
2. To decrease arm fat.
Hmmm. So recently actually, I've started running around with Hubbie as he trains for, plays basketball. I think all the shooting and passing of the ball is helping, however until just recently I was quite slack in the department of decreasing arm fat, I didn't really do much. I'm hoping the new year will change that. Look, I don't have a fat arm problem, but I strive for perfection, as dangeous as that pursuit is.
3. To generally get more toned, in particular to target my tummy and reduce the fat there.
As per above comments. I haven't done much exercise to target that, but all the housework and busy lifestyle have helped me, somehow. Which is great.
4. To read more.
So this I have done more of. And I continue to do more of, given my upcoming 2011 resolutions. Read on.
2011 Resolutions
1. To read, HEAPS more. In fact, I want to set up some sort of column/box within my blogger page, so that I can list the books I wanna read and then so to speak 'tick' them off when I do. Seeing it everytime I log into blogger will help me be more aware of it too. I want to read more to help my writing as well (see below resolution), as I want to be more aware of different writing styles, different authors, different stories. I want to know so much, the need to read and research is so great within me right now.
2. To complete my first book by the end of the year. By complete I mean finish writing to my satisfactory standard, so that I can start promoting it to agents, or however it goes. As nervous as I get when I think of it, I think it is a realistic goal. One story, one year. I'm sure some would think I've given myself too much time even, however what I want to do is start something big, and I need the proper research, planning and education to get it right off the bat, so that when I continue with my following books, it all flows perfectly and effortlessly.
3. To get fit. Whether it's playing basketball with Hubbie, taking on yoga, or just getting into long walks/runs, I really want to make it a part of my life. I make health-oriented goals each year, and I know that with some of them, I do somewhat succeed, but others are just a waste of written space. I don't want that to be the case this year. I really want to make an effort of it. And seeing myself in my mind, with the body I want, is motivation enough.
4. To improve all my relationships, full-stop. To not sweat the small stuff, which will be assisted by the Richard Carlson "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" daily calendar Red bought me for chrissy. To relax, not worry, see the postive in everyone and all things. To wish the people that annoy me, well, and MEAN it.
5. To continue on my path of spiritual growth and self-development. To keep reading books on bettering myself and my life, and to continue striving toward my dreams.
6. To enjoy life. Just the other day I said to Hubbie, "I want to enjoy our city; go out for coffee, walk through parks, just go out." It doesn't have to break the bank. Often the simplest things are the most rewarding. Taking a walk along the beach; eating an ice cream; sitting on a park bench. I want to observe, absorb, feel and create. I want to feel the sun on my face, be a part of life, experience all that is to offer. I want to live every day of my life. Because that's what we're here to do.
So, those are my dreams for the coming year. And being in the frame of mind that I am, I think I will do quite well (just between you and me:))
Remember: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
Happy new year, Happy New Decade :-D
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Bubble and Squeak
Bubble and squeak is a term I came across a few months back, when browsing through some recipe books. As arrogant as this next bit might make me sound, to my surprise (and slight disgust) I discovered it was a term, rather a recipe whereby you used leftover vegies from another meal to make a 'new' meal, perhaps using eggs or something similar to combine it all together.
I think I was more disgusted at the name given to the recipe, rather than the ingredients used or the recycling of the food itself. No one eats leftovers more than Hubbie and I, so I can't say 'boo' to re-using food at all. But the name, bubble and squeak....... I don't know, what about the recipe, inspired the name Bubble and Squeak? What, about the food, makes it bubble.... and squeak...? Shudder at the thought.
However, this odd food terminology has sprung to mind in thinking about what indeed I should write about. So many odd, random, good and bad things have occurred of late, that I don't really know what to focus my writing attention on.
And this is how bubble and squeak came to mind. Apparently, the bubble and squeak is all the things that have happened lately, and the egg jelling it all together is my life.
Egg is my life. LOL.
And so the following minor stories, observations and episodic details of my life may come at you rather randomly, much like pieces of day-old carrot and peas in a mouthful of distastefully named 'bubble and squeak.'
(I'm only guessing at how it may taste). All this in an effort to bring you up to speed on my life, and also to bring me up to speed in my own life and help me to review it in progress, in what is herein going to be referred to as the 'bubble and squeak' post.
So be warned. I have NOT been taking notes.
When it comes to the good, versus the bad, unfortunately it's the bad that first springs to mind. However that only means that I have all good to end with :)
Mouth absolutely boiled me to my core, once again, on a few occasions. It becomes very hard when you have to deal with a person such as this. Even harder when it's someone in the family who you just can't avoid, unless of course you disown them, which I couldn't do without hurting many people I care about.
I get into this cycle with her. She shits me up the wall > I get upset, broody and moody and keep it all in trying to work it out in my head > it culminates in me practically exploding to Hubbie in anger and tears > after 3 days of wallowing we work out that A) I need to partially ignore her, and B) actually speak my mind and tell her when she is annoying me, in order to avoid the fantasy fights I create of her and I later on in my mind, that eventually drive me crraaaaazzzzzyyyyyyy.
So although we have danced this exact dance many times, I actually need to put the mentioned A and B acts to practice, and follow through. Otherwise nothing will ever change. Only my attitude in how to deal with her will actually change anything for me, because as we all know, an old dog will not learn any new tricks.
Lately I have been sick. Last Thursday, I barely made it into work, the only motivators being that my boss was away and I had extra stuff to do, and also, it was my last day before 3 days off. I made it in, barely could keep myself sitting straight up at my desk just long enough to do what I had to do, and left half way through the day. It was just so unbearable. Not only had I gone through a very sleepless and interrupted nights sleep, waking up what seemed like a zillion times and saying to myself "get up it's time to go to work," when in fact I still had hours to sleep, but my muscles were absolutely aching in agony. I was sooooo sore, every part of me hurt, which made me just want to curl up on my couch at home and sleep. Which I ended up doing.
It was the culmination of what had been a huge October. I don't know who else received it, but I got it a few times, both via sms and email, the chain letter about this recent October having 5 Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays? Yes and then it annoyingly tells you you must keep it going, according to the far-reaching distant natives of the land Makirouchidoo or some other tribal sounding country in order to keep the luck going, UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE. Well it might as well say that, with all the suggestive terminology making you want to send it or else meet some horrible fate. And so I did send it, and due to sending it several times during the month, it occurred to me that hey, this has been a LONG month.
And then I reminisced.
The month began with that awesome grand final win in which the Mighty Magpies brought the cup home! Finally! That had been a big weekend.
We had had my friends over, my close group, which in total added up to 8 of us, for dinner. That was a big night. There was food, there was drink, there were MANY cupcakes. And it was an awesome night.
We had ALL my cousins over. Yes, that drunk post, that was the aftermath. Needless to say I got a little-iddy-bit tipsydrunk, therefore placing the indicator of party success at HIGH.
In between we had side nights (of which I mean people over but not huge to the point of party-status-phere) where my sister came over, and Hubbie's friends. We had a wedding, we had people arriving at the airport from overseas trips. And then the month ended with Hubbie's big birthday bash, where once again we proved we could throw awesome parties and still have fun while doing all the work:)
I think I wore myself out to the disgusting point where 5 days after the last October party, my body started to shut down. It said "screw you, I'm taking leave," leaving the rest of me pathetically screaming "No! Come back damn you!"
And so the muscle aches set in, only after the sore throat and intense sneezing commenced. The flu symptoms were persistent again in days 2 and 3, where again I felt intense fatigue (due to my body running away no doubt) and cleaning the house probably didn't help me much, but hey what else was I supposed to do at home? Yeah I know I know, I could've sat in front of the telly all day. But that would have worked against my whole effective/efficient habit that I haven't been able to kick for the past 9 years.
And so today, a week after my first flu symptoms popped up, I'm still left with a consistent, grating, unrelenting cough. It is really so inconvenient. It's gone from worse, after the weekend of drinking champagne and other home-made apparently 'healing' concoctions, to just annoying now, where I still have to cough every so often - cough cough cough - excuse me, unlike this morning where I felt like I was just hacking up flem.
So all in all, it's getting better.
There was also this little moment late last week, a predecessor before the whole 'sick' thing started.... I had this interesting moment at work with a fellow colleague of mine, that totally bew me out of the water, catching me off guard completely. And it was all to do with cake.
All over some bloody cake.
In true Miss S form, I had decided to bring in to work leftover cake from Hubbie's birthday. I knew there were a few people, who would REALLY appreciate the free cake and all, and having had a huge month that was filled with way too much cakes and cupcakes and just everything sweet, early on I decided that getting rid of the mass amount we still had from Hubbie's birthday would be the right way to go.
And so in I brought it. And as I was finishing off my early shift that day, I happened across a work colleague of mine, who we shall call Kitty. Hmmm :)
She was just starting her shift, and so my intention was to let her know of the few leftover cakes there were near my desk, so she could spread the word to our other fellow workers starting later on that day as well.
As soon as I started the words "Kitty, just so you know there's some cakes over th-"
"No! Don't talk to me about cake!"
And so it began. In a very direct, firm way, she told me:
1. that she was not going to eat any cake
2. people in our work area should not be encouraged to eat cake
3. she wouldn't be responsible for making people eat cake ..............AND
4. if cake was left over, she ALSO wouldn't be responsible for getting rid of it.
What the?! All I mentioned was cake. I was a bit stunned, a bit miffed, and seeing as my sneezing had been accelerating that day, more than sensitive enough, so I was hurt. I felt like she was attacking me, personally, just for bringing in cake.
And all I was doing was trying to be nice. It was about then that another fellow colleague arrived, and I told him quite matter-of-factly that there was cake and that at least HE would appreciate it. I sort of ended the conversation by walking off, without a real proper goodbye to her.
I was really hurt by it all. I pondered it on the way home. I know she had been trying to lose a bit of excess weight that she had gained over the past year (not that she was overweight). I thought of other times that I had brought in cake, and asked myself if I had been pushy in getting people to eat the cake in order to rid myself of it. I wasn't quite sure, but I knew that then, in that moment and in that day, I had merely mentioned it, before getting a barrage of cake-hate spewing out at me.
I spoke to Hubbie about it that night, and even he thought the remarks I'd received were unwarranted and odd. I guess I felt a bit worse, as it's always a little sad when someone you normally like and get along with gives you grief. You wonder 'why' and think of where you have gone wrong. I did just that, and only ended up making myself feel MORE sadder...
Anyways, the next day, arriving at work, I saw an email from her titled 'cakes...'
Part of me had been expecting an email addressing the whole cake issue, so I was not surprised.
Miss S,
Below an email generated in an effort to try to make up for my not wanting cake comments - which came out much harsher than I meant. So sorry about that - I know it's meant in the kindest spirit....
So if they guys don't eat them - I can't say I didn't try!
Kitty
OMG. I always knew the power of Miss S was huge. I've worked in customer service and have gotten a rotten customer to apologise to me for her bitchiness without even trying. I've had my Dad, one of the most stubborn of people, say sorry to me. And he doesn't say sorry or admit to his failures. EVER. I remember Pez, my ex-best friend, calling me up and crying over the phone, saying sorry to just hanging up on me after a stupid fight.
And now this. A woman 10 years my senior, with tonnes more life and work experience, sending me an email to apologise for yelling at me about cakes. (ok not yelling but it sounds better than just 'being firm')
I'm sorry but WOAH. That's big. Of her. To be sorry is one thing, bu to say it out loud to the person you upset in the first place, is a totally different, very rare thing. So I totally applaud her for that.
Following her email to me was the message she had sent to the rest of our department, letting them know, in so many words "cake is here..... eat or else!" So she helped me with my cake distribution, and that, along with admitting her overzealousness in cake-hating, means we are now friends again:)
I have been good in the pursuit of writing my story. I find that when I just start to jot down and write random plot ideas, character traits and story outlines that I am further inspired and motivated to do more research and develop my dream of writing professionally even more. A few nights I have found myself just doodling quite casually, and the following day I find I have the characters and the potential things they could get up to just running around and around in my head. I'm happy with the fact that it stays in my head, because it's sort of confirmation that what I'm thinking is not only interesting, but addictive and worthy, because if it weren't so, I tell ya it wouldn't last long in my over-imaginative mind. I still plan on eventually (whenever I actually finish my first book, after the actuality of beginning to write it) getting Hubbie, Sis and Red to read it and to tell me what their honest, honest, honest opinions on it are. I will ask them to be brutal, and then I think I will run away and hide. Something about getting someone so close to you to critique your work, actually fills me with a sick, sick feeling, and no not the kind that is cough-inducing. More the type that will churn your stomach contents and force them in a vertical motion. Hell, even when I see that people have read my blog, I freak out slightly, and that's people I don't know, with no critical response whatsoever!
But baby steps. All little baby steps. All in the right direction.
Speaking of baby steps. Had a massive, major, incredible !!lightbulb!! moment a few nights ago with Hubbie, Sis and her Hub. It is actually so incredible and major, that if this thing were to eventuate, it could change all of our lives, I believe MAJORLY. But because it is so big, we aren't actually letting people know of our "idea" until hopefully the day that it is fully under way and in full practice. No, sorry I can't even let my imaginary blogger-verse know about it. All off-limits. But I just had to say, it is AMAZING. Funny how something can be under your nose, in your face for so many years, and you just don't know that the opportunity has been staring you in the face the whole time. I think that is called TIMING.
And in more recent fantastic news, I have been shopping. Ahhhhh, how sweet the pursuit of clothes via monetary means and the accumulation of said-clothes can be.
Sweeeetttt.
Yesterday I purchased a very fine jacket. It was during some morning-afternoon shopping before my work shift, and Hubbie and I had just had enough. We were talking about clothes we had, clothes we usually went for, and the clothes that we should go for.
And we made a deal. No longer were we going to go for the safe, normal option. We weren't going to just buy, in my case, more plain tops, black dresses and ballet shoes, or in his case, more chequered shirts and blue polo tops. We were gonna go a bit wild, edgy, and start playing it up. We had decided, and we were sick of it!
Gosh just thinking of our new-found pact, and of all the clothes I could have if I had become shopping-smarter, sooner, just gives me even more AMMO to shop. You see, by always going for the 'safe' shopping option, you end up with a wardrobe that is not only identical, but that lacks creativity. By choosing items of clothing that will go the distance over the coming seasons, you end up lacking the current individuality that you so deserve.
Pieces of clothing can be wild and outrageous, and go the distance, if chosen correctly. I think of the alternative style of dwellers living in the edgy parts of outer-city Melbourne, and I highly doubt that they purchase with the aim of getting the most years out of their clothes, yet they still manage to do so. And still look good in seasons to come. Certainly I don't plan on moving to those suburbs, but the thought of a wild, indy-style wardrobe, with 50s style dresses, hippie skirts, bright colours and edgy alternative cuts of clothing, is greatly appealing to me right now. And what excites me more than anything (perhaps level with the accumulation of clothes though!) is the idea that if it is different, we will not look at the price of an item, we will just buy it.
Let's put that in simpler terms. If something is different = BUY!$!$!
I know! How incredibly monetar-ily free-ing is that idea! Of buying whatever as long as it's DIFFERENT! And Hubbie came up with that idea too. I know I married him for a reason :-D
It's not so easy just to want to do something. You have to also delete all the pre-wired talk in your mind, reset your shopping habits and think outside the square if you're going to start doing things differently. For example this morning, when Hubbie and I were shopping (yet again, we're on a roll) at before-mentioned outer-city suburb, I was in this full bohemian-hippy shop, which had A LOT of dresses. I came across a black and white one with a lot of ruffles near the neck line. It is a gorgeous dress, not too extreme, but even so, when I tried it on, I loved it but was still going "oh, I don't know, it has A LOT of ruffles at the front!"
You see, the old Miss S would have said "those ruffles won't help me move from season to season, year to year." But the new one, asked Hubbie for confidence, pushed through the doubt and went "you know what? I look great in this! I'll buy it!"
Now that I'm thinking differently about my clothes shopping selections and habits, I feel as if I'm a slightly different person, like I'm looking at life all differently. I can even imagine myself in one of the two dresses I bought today, (!) wearing a huge oversized straw hat and swinging from a hammock, with the current song "Something in the Water," playing in the background. Weird. I don't even own a hammock.
It's just inspiring, and so good to know, that not only with clothes, but all decisions in life, all paths taken, roads chosen, any change of direction is just a mind-set away. If you want to make the change, you can, and WILL. It's so easy. You just say "I'm going to look for a new job," "I'm getting a totally new haircut," or in my case "I'm changing my clothing style." It is so uninhibiting to realise you can do whatever you want to in life. As long as you want to.
Now that I've given you my daily awe-inspiring motivational life-quote, concluding tonights mammoth blog post (it started at work and is now ending after midnight at home) I will leave you with this thought for the night:
Everyone knows what eggs are. Eggs are eggs. But what you do with your egg will make a difference. Will you boil, poach or fry? Will you add spices and bacon, spinach and cheese, or place it on toast? What about the quality of your egg? Will it be free-range and wholesome? Grain-fed?
What you make of your very ordinary-seeming egg, will make the rest of your morning. Just as your decisions, will make your seemingly ordinary life, extraordinary.
(Definition to metaphor provided for clarity and due to lateness of post)
I think I was more disgusted at the name given to the recipe, rather than the ingredients used or the recycling of the food itself. No one eats leftovers more than Hubbie and I, so I can't say 'boo' to re-using food at all. But the name, bubble and squeak....... I don't know, what about the recipe, inspired the name Bubble and Squeak? What, about the food, makes it bubble.... and squeak...? Shudder at the thought.
However, this odd food terminology has sprung to mind in thinking about what indeed I should write about. So many odd, random, good and bad things have occurred of late, that I don't really know what to focus my writing attention on.
And this is how bubble and squeak came to mind. Apparently, the bubble and squeak is all the things that have happened lately, and the egg jelling it all together is my life.
Egg is my life. LOL.
And so the following minor stories, observations and episodic details of my life may come at you rather randomly, much like pieces of day-old carrot and peas in a mouthful of distastefully named 'bubble and squeak.'
(I'm only guessing at how it may taste). All this in an effort to bring you up to speed on my life, and also to bring me up to speed in my own life and help me to review it in progress, in what is herein going to be referred to as the 'bubble and squeak' post.
So be warned. I have NOT been taking notes.
When it comes to the good, versus the bad, unfortunately it's the bad that first springs to mind. However that only means that I have all good to end with :)
Mouth absolutely boiled me to my core, once again, on a few occasions. It becomes very hard when you have to deal with a person such as this. Even harder when it's someone in the family who you just can't avoid, unless of course you disown them, which I couldn't do without hurting many people I care about.
I get into this cycle with her. She shits me up the wall > I get upset, broody and moody and keep it all in trying to work it out in my head > it culminates in me practically exploding to Hubbie in anger and tears > after 3 days of wallowing we work out that A) I need to partially ignore her, and B) actually speak my mind and tell her when she is annoying me, in order to avoid the fantasy fights I create of her and I later on in my mind, that eventually drive me crraaaaazzzzzyyyyyyy.
So although we have danced this exact dance many times, I actually need to put the mentioned A and B acts to practice, and follow through. Otherwise nothing will ever change. Only my attitude in how to deal with her will actually change anything for me, because as we all know, an old dog will not learn any new tricks.
Lately I have been sick. Last Thursday, I barely made it into work, the only motivators being that my boss was away and I had extra stuff to do, and also, it was my last day before 3 days off. I made it in, barely could keep myself sitting straight up at my desk just long enough to do what I had to do, and left half way through the day. It was just so unbearable. Not only had I gone through a very sleepless and interrupted nights sleep, waking up what seemed like a zillion times and saying to myself "get up it's time to go to work," when in fact I still had hours to sleep, but my muscles were absolutely aching in agony. I was sooooo sore, every part of me hurt, which made me just want to curl up on my couch at home and sleep. Which I ended up doing.
It was the culmination of what had been a huge October. I don't know who else received it, but I got it a few times, both via sms and email, the chain letter about this recent October having 5 Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays? Yes and then it annoyingly tells you you must keep it going, according to the far-reaching distant natives of the land Makirouchidoo or some other tribal sounding country in order to keep the luck going, UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE. Well it might as well say that, with all the suggestive terminology making you want to send it or else meet some horrible fate. And so I did send it, and due to sending it several times during the month, it occurred to me that hey, this has been a LONG month.
And then I reminisced.
The month began with that awesome grand final win in which the Mighty Magpies brought the cup home! Finally! That had been a big weekend.
We had had my friends over, my close group, which in total added up to 8 of us, for dinner. That was a big night. There was food, there was drink, there were MANY cupcakes. And it was an awesome night.
We had ALL my cousins over. Yes, that drunk post, that was the aftermath. Needless to say I got a little-iddy-bit tipsydrunk, therefore placing the indicator of party success at HIGH.
In between we had side nights (of which I mean people over but not huge to the point of party-status-phere) where my sister came over, and Hubbie's friends. We had a wedding, we had people arriving at the airport from overseas trips. And then the month ended with Hubbie's big birthday bash, where once again we proved we could throw awesome parties and still have fun while doing all the work:)
I think I wore myself out to the disgusting point where 5 days after the last October party, my body started to shut down. It said "screw you, I'm taking leave," leaving the rest of me pathetically screaming "No! Come back damn you!"
And so the muscle aches set in, only after the sore throat and intense sneezing commenced. The flu symptoms were persistent again in days 2 and 3, where again I felt intense fatigue (due to my body running away no doubt) and cleaning the house probably didn't help me much, but hey what else was I supposed to do at home? Yeah I know I know, I could've sat in front of the telly all day. But that would have worked against my whole effective/efficient habit that I haven't been able to kick for the past 9 years.
And so today, a week after my first flu symptoms popped up, I'm still left with a consistent, grating, unrelenting cough. It is really so inconvenient. It's gone from worse, after the weekend of drinking champagne and other home-made apparently 'healing' concoctions, to just annoying now, where I still have to cough every so often - cough cough cough - excuse me, unlike this morning where I felt like I was just hacking up flem.
So all in all, it's getting better.
There was also this little moment late last week, a predecessor before the whole 'sick' thing started.... I had this interesting moment at work with a fellow colleague of mine, that totally bew me out of the water, catching me off guard completely. And it was all to do with cake.
All over some bloody cake.
In true Miss S form, I had decided to bring in to work leftover cake from Hubbie's birthday. I knew there were a few people, who would REALLY appreciate the free cake and all, and having had a huge month that was filled with way too much cakes and cupcakes and just everything sweet, early on I decided that getting rid of the mass amount we still had from Hubbie's birthday would be the right way to go.
And so in I brought it. And as I was finishing off my early shift that day, I happened across a work colleague of mine, who we shall call Kitty. Hmmm :)
She was just starting her shift, and so my intention was to let her know of the few leftover cakes there were near my desk, so she could spread the word to our other fellow workers starting later on that day as well.
As soon as I started the words "Kitty, just so you know there's some cakes over th-"
"No! Don't talk to me about cake!"
And so it began. In a very direct, firm way, she told me:
1. that she was not going to eat any cake
2. people in our work area should not be encouraged to eat cake
3. she wouldn't be responsible for making people eat cake ..............AND
4. if cake was left over, she ALSO wouldn't be responsible for getting rid of it.
What the?! All I mentioned was cake. I was a bit stunned, a bit miffed, and seeing as my sneezing had been accelerating that day, more than sensitive enough, so I was hurt. I felt like she was attacking me, personally, just for bringing in cake.
And all I was doing was trying to be nice. It was about then that another fellow colleague arrived, and I told him quite matter-of-factly that there was cake and that at least HE would appreciate it. I sort of ended the conversation by walking off, without a real proper goodbye to her.
I was really hurt by it all. I pondered it on the way home. I know she had been trying to lose a bit of excess weight that she had gained over the past year (not that she was overweight). I thought of other times that I had brought in cake, and asked myself if I had been pushy in getting people to eat the cake in order to rid myself of it. I wasn't quite sure, but I knew that then, in that moment and in that day, I had merely mentioned it, before getting a barrage of cake-hate spewing out at me.
I spoke to Hubbie about it that night, and even he thought the remarks I'd received were unwarranted and odd. I guess I felt a bit worse, as it's always a little sad when someone you normally like and get along with gives you grief. You wonder 'why' and think of where you have gone wrong. I did just that, and only ended up making myself feel MORE sadder...
Anyways, the next day, arriving at work, I saw an email from her titled 'cakes...'
Part of me had been expecting an email addressing the whole cake issue, so I was not surprised.
Miss S,
Below an email generated in an effort to try to make up for my not wanting cake comments - which came out much harsher than I meant. So sorry about that - I know it's meant in the kindest spirit....
So if they guys don't eat them - I can't say I didn't try!
Kitty
OMG. I always knew the power of Miss S was huge. I've worked in customer service and have gotten a rotten customer to apologise to me for her bitchiness without even trying. I've had my Dad, one of the most stubborn of people, say sorry to me. And he doesn't say sorry or admit to his failures. EVER. I remember Pez, my ex-best friend, calling me up and crying over the phone, saying sorry to just hanging up on me after a stupid fight.
And now this. A woman 10 years my senior, with tonnes more life and work experience, sending me an email to apologise for yelling at me about cakes. (ok not yelling but it sounds better than just 'being firm')
I'm sorry but WOAH. That's big. Of her. To be sorry is one thing, bu to say it out loud to the person you upset in the first place, is a totally different, very rare thing. So I totally applaud her for that.
Following her email to me was the message she had sent to the rest of our department, letting them know, in so many words "cake is here..... eat or else!" So she helped me with my cake distribution, and that, along with admitting her overzealousness in cake-hating, means we are now friends again:)
I have been good in the pursuit of writing my story. I find that when I just start to jot down and write random plot ideas, character traits and story outlines that I am further inspired and motivated to do more research and develop my dream of writing professionally even more. A few nights I have found myself just doodling quite casually, and the following day I find I have the characters and the potential things they could get up to just running around and around in my head. I'm happy with the fact that it stays in my head, because it's sort of confirmation that what I'm thinking is not only interesting, but addictive and worthy, because if it weren't so, I tell ya it wouldn't last long in my over-imaginative mind. I still plan on eventually (whenever I actually finish my first book, after the actuality of beginning to write it) getting Hubbie, Sis and Red to read it and to tell me what their honest, honest, honest opinions on it are. I will ask them to be brutal, and then I think I will run away and hide. Something about getting someone so close to you to critique your work, actually fills me with a sick, sick feeling, and no not the kind that is cough-inducing. More the type that will churn your stomach contents and force them in a vertical motion. Hell, even when I see that people have read my blog, I freak out slightly, and that's people I don't know, with no critical response whatsoever!
But baby steps. All little baby steps. All in the right direction.
Speaking of baby steps. Had a massive, major, incredible !!lightbulb!! moment a few nights ago with Hubbie, Sis and her Hub. It is actually so incredible and major, that if this thing were to eventuate, it could change all of our lives, I believe MAJORLY. But because it is so big, we aren't actually letting people know of our "idea" until hopefully the day that it is fully under way and in full practice. No, sorry I can't even let my imaginary blogger-verse know about it. All off-limits. But I just had to say, it is AMAZING. Funny how something can be under your nose, in your face for so many years, and you just don't know that the opportunity has been staring you in the face the whole time. I think that is called TIMING.
And in more recent fantastic news, I have been shopping. Ahhhhh, how sweet the pursuit of clothes via monetary means and the accumulation of said-clothes can be.
Sweeeetttt.
Yesterday I purchased a very fine jacket. It was during some morning-afternoon shopping before my work shift, and Hubbie and I had just had enough. We were talking about clothes we had, clothes we usually went for, and the clothes that we should go for.
And we made a deal. No longer were we going to go for the safe, normal option. We weren't going to just buy, in my case, more plain tops, black dresses and ballet shoes, or in his case, more chequered shirts and blue polo tops. We were gonna go a bit wild, edgy, and start playing it up. We had decided, and we were sick of it!
Gosh just thinking of our new-found pact, and of all the clothes I could have if I had become shopping-smarter, sooner, just gives me even more AMMO to shop. You see, by always going for the 'safe' shopping option, you end up with a wardrobe that is not only identical, but that lacks creativity. By choosing items of clothing that will go the distance over the coming seasons, you end up lacking the current individuality that you so deserve.
Pieces of clothing can be wild and outrageous, and go the distance, if chosen correctly. I think of the alternative style of dwellers living in the edgy parts of outer-city Melbourne, and I highly doubt that they purchase with the aim of getting the most years out of their clothes, yet they still manage to do so. And still look good in seasons to come. Certainly I don't plan on moving to those suburbs, but the thought of a wild, indy-style wardrobe, with 50s style dresses, hippie skirts, bright colours and edgy alternative cuts of clothing, is greatly appealing to me right now. And what excites me more than anything (perhaps level with the accumulation of clothes though!) is the idea that if it is different, we will not look at the price of an item, we will just buy it.
Let's put that in simpler terms. If something is different = BUY!$!$!
I know! How incredibly monetar-ily free-ing is that idea! Of buying whatever as long as it's DIFFERENT! And Hubbie came up with that idea too. I know I married him for a reason :-D
It's not so easy just to want to do something. You have to also delete all the pre-wired talk in your mind, reset your shopping habits and think outside the square if you're going to start doing things differently. For example this morning, when Hubbie and I were shopping (yet again, we're on a roll) at before-mentioned outer-city suburb, I was in this full bohemian-hippy shop, which had A LOT of dresses. I came across a black and white one with a lot of ruffles near the neck line. It is a gorgeous dress, not too extreme, but even so, when I tried it on, I loved it but was still going "oh, I don't know, it has A LOT of ruffles at the front!"
You see, the old Miss S would have said "those ruffles won't help me move from season to season, year to year." But the new one, asked Hubbie for confidence, pushed through the doubt and went "you know what? I look great in this! I'll buy it!"
Now that I'm thinking differently about my clothes shopping selections and habits, I feel as if I'm a slightly different person, like I'm looking at life all differently. I can even imagine myself in one of the two dresses I bought today, (!) wearing a huge oversized straw hat and swinging from a hammock, with the current song "Something in the Water," playing in the background. Weird. I don't even own a hammock.
It's just inspiring, and so good to know, that not only with clothes, but all decisions in life, all paths taken, roads chosen, any change of direction is just a mind-set away. If you want to make the change, you can, and WILL. It's so easy. You just say "I'm going to look for a new job," "I'm getting a totally new haircut," or in my case "I'm changing my clothing style." It is so uninhibiting to realise you can do whatever you want to in life. As long as you want to.
Now that I've given you my daily awe-inspiring motivational life-quote, concluding tonights mammoth blog post (it started at work and is now ending after midnight at home) I will leave you with this thought for the night:
Everyone knows what eggs are. Eggs are eggs. But what you do with your egg will make a difference. Will you boil, poach or fry? Will you add spices and bacon, spinach and cheese, or place it on toast? What about the quality of your egg? Will it be free-range and wholesome? Grain-fed?
What you make of your very ordinary-seeming egg, will make the rest of your morning. Just as your decisions, will make your seemingly ordinary life, extraordinary.
(Definition to metaphor provided for clarity and due to lateness of post)
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Great, thanks
So I did have a truly awesome birthday celebration in true Miss S extravaganza style. Sorry I should say celebrations.
I think my new age has brought with it a little bit more maturity. Although there were things that happened over my birthday weekend that would have normally upset me, that would have made me focus and concentrate on pesky miniscule non-issues, instead I've been trying, somewhat successfully, to let it all go, and just relax.
For example, my Friday night out. It only ended up being 7 of us in total. Despite several work friends saying they were coming, and despite my cousins Legs and Hair promising they would be there, as well as some other friends, none of the above mentioned came: work duties prevailed, tiredness, soreness and general lack of motivation. The 15-ish number I expected to come, halved.
I made a split decision in that moment on Friday night. Receiving those regretful messages on my mobile I thought "this is the moment that will create the rest of my night.... how will I respond to it?"
After a tiny bit of "ohhhhh" and disappointment, I decided to let it all go and focus on having an awesome night. And I did!
Similarly, when 2 of our closest friends couldn't make it to my house party on Saturday night, I did revert back to whingy, whiny unhappy 2-year-old tantrum Miss S: "But I don't want them to be sick! Why are they sick??"
But again, I put on my positive mask, and really, with the 20-odd people I had there that night, it really wasn't that bad losing 2, as we had our hands tied with everyone else. And it meant that our friends who missed it came by last night (resulting in a very late night I might add, yawn!) prolonging my birthday celebrations even FURTHER!
See, positive, positive? LOL.
It's so easy. So easy to just fall into that negative downward spiral. Especially when in the past year I've had people in my close circle of family and friends disappoint me in various ways. The best thing that has happened to me of late is the talk I had with my mum and my sister. I'm thinking of the words that my sister said to me, telling me that she's seen me so angry and negative, so tense and mad, and thought to herself that that's not me. I'd let myself turn into a person I'm not.
So now I'm focusing on the good, ol' Miss S.
Yes, I could choose to be upset about my cousins promising to come to my party, and then not following through. Rather than be upset, I should focus on the reasons why, and realise that no human is a superbeing. No one person can do everything at the same time, and expect to be everywhere at once. Their intention was there, despite their failing to show. And if I feel that I'm not as close to them as I used to be (and I do really feel that), well I should look at myself. I should look at what I can do for them, to show them I care. Which I will endeavour to do over the coming months.
As for work friends...... well, that's just the way it is. And although I didn't know how I was going to come back to work today after my week off, and whether or not I'd drop a comment like "no one from work came," when I came in, I saw that they actually looked like they cared about me! I mean my boss was really nice, all sorry about missing the night out, others were actively asking me about my birthday and my time off, I even had a birthday card on my desk from one of them, apologies from another...... and you know what? I thought to myself, if I had been in their position, of being invited to one of their parties with the probability that I may be the only one there amongst work friends.... I wouldn't have gone either.
I've come to the conclusion, that with work colleagues, it's fine to not see each other outside of work. As long as we're nice whilst at work, well I think that's all that really matters. We do get along. We just have different interests and friends outside of work, which makes perfect, complete sense. And I'm okay with that.
I think the whole key here, is when faced with such a problem, whether with a family member, close friend, or work colleague, whatever a person may be to you, is to ask yourself:
"what would I do in their position?"
"what can I do in our relationship to make this better?"
and most importantly, to not look at any issue in the upmost negative light. Rather than jumping the gun and going straight to the worst possible scenario, think of the more probable one.
If someone doesn't come to your party, it's not because they hate you; maybe they got tied up. Maybe they're tired. On the other side of town. They have a sore back. They don't wanna come alone. Explanations like that are so much more easier to deal with, for mind, body and spirit.
I think the worst thing is to feel like you're entitled, like you're owed something. No one owes you anything. You will only get things from putting work into it. And unless you look at what you can do, all you will continue to get is the same negative feelings of "why didn't they/couldn't they/wouldn't they...."
your WHOLE life.
When I think about it (yes I am thinking A LOT lately) the 7 people I had on Friday night, coupled with the 20 on Saturday.... that's 27 people. 27 people who care for me, love me, and made the time and effort to see me for my birthday.
That's a lot. What are the statistics, something like having only 2 or 3 real friends in your whole life? I compare that with all the people I've seen this last weekend, and including our awesome buddies last night, and I can't help but smile. My statistics are awesome. Quality not quantity, remember?
There. Now I'm done with my little Dr Phil spiel. I think I'll go now and make some light-hearted convo with my work buddies.....
I think my new age has brought with it a little bit more maturity. Although there were things that happened over my birthday weekend that would have normally upset me, that would have made me focus and concentrate on pesky miniscule non-issues, instead I've been trying, somewhat successfully, to let it all go, and just relax.
For example, my Friday night out. It only ended up being 7 of us in total. Despite several work friends saying they were coming, and despite my cousins Legs and Hair promising they would be there, as well as some other friends, none of the above mentioned came: work duties prevailed, tiredness, soreness and general lack of motivation. The 15-ish number I expected to come, halved.
I made a split decision in that moment on Friday night. Receiving those regretful messages on my mobile I thought "this is the moment that will create the rest of my night.... how will I respond to it?"
After a tiny bit of "ohhhhh" and disappointment, I decided to let it all go and focus on having an awesome night. And I did!
Similarly, when 2 of our closest friends couldn't make it to my house party on Saturday night, I did revert back to whingy, whiny unhappy 2-year-old tantrum Miss S: "But I don't want them to be sick! Why are they sick??"
But again, I put on my positive mask, and really, with the 20-odd people I had there that night, it really wasn't that bad losing 2, as we had our hands tied with everyone else. And it meant that our friends who missed it came by last night (resulting in a very late night I might add, yawn!) prolonging my birthday celebrations even FURTHER!
See, positive, positive? LOL.
It's so easy. So easy to just fall into that negative downward spiral. Especially when in the past year I've had people in my close circle of family and friends disappoint me in various ways. The best thing that has happened to me of late is the talk I had with my mum and my sister. I'm thinking of the words that my sister said to me, telling me that she's seen me so angry and negative, so tense and mad, and thought to herself that that's not me. I'd let myself turn into a person I'm not.
So now I'm focusing on the good, ol' Miss S.
Yes, I could choose to be upset about my cousins promising to come to my party, and then not following through. Rather than be upset, I should focus on the reasons why, and realise that no human is a superbeing. No one person can do everything at the same time, and expect to be everywhere at once. Their intention was there, despite their failing to show. And if I feel that I'm not as close to them as I used to be (and I do really feel that), well I should look at myself. I should look at what I can do for them, to show them I care. Which I will endeavour to do over the coming months.
As for work friends...... well, that's just the way it is. And although I didn't know how I was going to come back to work today after my week off, and whether or not I'd drop a comment like "no one from work came," when I came in, I saw that they actually looked like they cared about me! I mean my boss was really nice, all sorry about missing the night out, others were actively asking me about my birthday and my time off, I even had a birthday card on my desk from one of them, apologies from another...... and you know what? I thought to myself, if I had been in their position, of being invited to one of their parties with the probability that I may be the only one there amongst work friends.... I wouldn't have gone either.
I've come to the conclusion, that with work colleagues, it's fine to not see each other outside of work. As long as we're nice whilst at work, well I think that's all that really matters. We do get along. We just have different interests and friends outside of work, which makes perfect, complete sense. And I'm okay with that.
I think the whole key here, is when faced with such a problem, whether with a family member, close friend, or work colleague, whatever a person may be to you, is to ask yourself:
"what would I do in their position?"
"what can I do in our relationship to make this better?"
and most importantly, to not look at any issue in the upmost negative light. Rather than jumping the gun and going straight to the worst possible scenario, think of the more probable one.
If someone doesn't come to your party, it's not because they hate you; maybe they got tied up. Maybe they're tired. On the other side of town. They have a sore back. They don't wanna come alone. Explanations like that are so much more easier to deal with, for mind, body and spirit.
I think the worst thing is to feel like you're entitled, like you're owed something. No one owes you anything. You will only get things from putting work into it. And unless you look at what you can do, all you will continue to get is the same negative feelings of "why didn't they/couldn't they/wouldn't they...."
your WHOLE life.
When I think about it (yes I am thinking A LOT lately) the 7 people I had on Friday night, coupled with the 20 on Saturday.... that's 27 people. 27 people who care for me, love me, and made the time and effort to see me for my birthday.
That's a lot. What are the statistics, something like having only 2 or 3 real friends in your whole life? I compare that with all the people I've seen this last weekend, and including our awesome buddies last night, and I can't help but smile. My statistics are awesome. Quality not quantity, remember?
There. Now I'm done with my little Dr Phil spiel. I think I'll go now and make some light-hearted convo with my work buddies.....
Thursday, April 22, 2010
M.I.A: A Poem
In light of the fact that I have been totally absent from blogging for what seems like forever, rather than chronicle the exciting and fantastic adventures of my everyday life in an effort to update the blog world, I decided to compose a poem.
Ahem.
The biggest news I have to share
Would be about our latest dare
We bought a block of land you see
A house to build upon will be
My Swedish friend came back to visit
(Odd to visit her home don't you think?)
Nonetheless we all had fun
And back in December she will come
Another friend of mine did wed
For 8 years now a life they'd shared
The day was great! we talked, laughed and danced
And took stupid photos 'til we pissed our pants
My cousin came from overseas
And I took her out to a Hens Night Party
We had good times, took heaps of shots
(Both alcoholic and photo sorts!)
On the work front, it has been flat out
Since our boss here decided to depart
But having returned from her South African cruise
All our worries have gone, and our blues
As for my dear cousin Legs' days
She's still planning her matrimonial ways
And she has been asking me for advice
To which I think it is really nice :)
My Bestie's boy, Wine we call him
some days are good, some are a whim
It's up and down, but generally I believe,
all of us are different - so accept it, PLEASE!
My overseas bestie is planning her return
A visit only (I know, I know)
Her sister is going through a pregnancy
And a doting aunty my friend will be!
We've had an invasion of disgusting pests
Portugese Millipedes - ugh (are they migrants?)
They come into the house and slide upon our floors
And we just pick them up and hurl them outdoors
A revelation it seems 'bout Ricky Martin
He prefers men - have I been dim?
My love for his music has kept me biased
But now I must accept his truth, not deny it
Speaking of which, went to see George!
Michael that is, of Wham! days - and oh Lord
He is a true talent, genius and a star
A musical legend he is by FAR
Some sad news of late from overseas
A cousin of mine met his fate unfortunately
He died before his time, a shock for all
But when you rise too fast, eventually you must fall
Still Twilight-ing, Eclipse I have read
Starting Breaking Dawn soon - and yes I do care
These books are addictive, they make me mad!
More often than not, I go from happy to sad
A positive spin on things I try to do
It keeps me sane and feeling brand new
It's important to focus on life's good things
Like love, health and happiness, and all else that it brings.
I think that sums up the last few months perfectly. At the time I felt there was really no way I could write a blog that measured up to the immensity of information and emotion of my last blog, regarding Richard Carlson's death. But time helps you think, move on, and think of things in perspective.
So, I re-introduce myself to you, as Miss S :)
Ahem.
The biggest news I have to share
Would be about our latest dare
We bought a block of land you see
A house to build upon will be
My Swedish friend came back to visit
(Odd to visit her home don't you think?)
Nonetheless we all had fun
And back in December she will come
Another friend of mine did wed
For 8 years now a life they'd shared
The day was great! we talked, laughed and danced
And took stupid photos 'til we pissed our pants
My cousin came from overseas
And I took her out to a Hens Night Party
We had good times, took heaps of shots
(Both alcoholic and photo sorts!)
On the work front, it has been flat out
Since our boss here decided to depart
But having returned from her South African cruise
All our worries have gone, and our blues
As for my dear cousin Legs' days
She's still planning her matrimonial ways
And she has been asking me for advice
To which I think it is really nice :)
My Bestie's boy, Wine we call him
some days are good, some are a whim
It's up and down, but generally I believe,
all of us are different - so accept it, PLEASE!
My overseas bestie is planning her return
A visit only (I know, I know)
Her sister is going through a pregnancy
And a doting aunty my friend will be!
We've had an invasion of disgusting pests
Portugese Millipedes - ugh (are they migrants?)
They come into the house and slide upon our floors
And we just pick them up and hurl them outdoors
A revelation it seems 'bout Ricky Martin
He prefers men - have I been dim?
My love for his music has kept me biased
But now I must accept his truth, not deny it
Speaking of which, went to see George!
Michael that is, of Wham! days - and oh Lord
He is a true talent, genius and a star
A musical legend he is by FAR
Some sad news of late from overseas
A cousin of mine met his fate unfortunately
He died before his time, a shock for all
But when you rise too fast, eventually you must fall
Still Twilight-ing, Eclipse I have read
Starting Breaking Dawn soon - and yes I do care
These books are addictive, they make me mad!
More often than not, I go from happy to sad
A positive spin on things I try to do
It keeps me sane and feeling brand new
It's important to focus on life's good things
Like love, health and happiness, and all else that it brings.
I think that sums up the last few months perfectly. At the time I felt there was really no way I could write a blog that measured up to the immensity of information and emotion of my last blog, regarding Richard Carlson's death. But time helps you think, move on, and think of things in perspective.
So, I re-introduce myself to you, as Miss S :)
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