I approach each day intending to DO something towards my goals. My day usually gets high jacked by work, reacting to work, thinking about the reaction at work, then getting home and collapsing. I then beat myself up for not taking even one small step towards where I want to be. And yes, I know I’m my own worst enemy. Believe me, I know.
Today’s plan is simple. I will work, then shop for ingredients to make my own Harissa, then when home, I will put together one of the two drawer sets for my craft room. Just one of them. That is all. I can do that – no matter what rubbish hits the fan in the workplace.
Lets see how I go with a short list.
I think too much. Some topics go round and round my head so much I don’t remember what started it.
I am the sort of person who likes to be prepared. I plan. I plan everything. I plan what might happen. I plan what won’t happen in a million years. It’s not all bad. Sometimes I crack myself up completely. I have been busted rolling around on the floor. And I’m ok with that. I don’t mind if you think I’m nuts.
I like daydreaming. I like my imagination. I don’t mind that it gets whatcha might call “fantastical” at times. But I don’t like to worry. This I do too much. It affects my sleep. It hurts my head. It makes me grind my teeth…which also hurts my head.
So, in the name of the institution of New Years resolutions, I begin my trial of the “great written dump”. Each night I’m going to fill a page of what happened that day, maybe what might happen tomorrow, shopping lists, a knock-knock joke – whatever is rattling around my stupid noggin. I’ll put it all down and lay it to rest. I’m hoping sleep will come easier to an empty head.
As far as my annual tarot reading goes, it’s game on for 2013. According to these cards, the end of 2012 was full of irritable niggle and restless dissatisfaction. No kidding!
The next steps, however, are in clear air and full of good potential. One issue will be the need to keep moving along this new path and deal with the old ways crumbling without needing to blow everything to hell in the process. Temper temper!
If you’re debating whether to give something new a go, but hesitate because you think you’re too old to begin an “apprenticeship”, consider where you’ll be this time next year if you don’t make a start…in exactly the same place you are now.
2013 is not the year to stagnate, ladies and gentlemen. Hang on tight or you may be left behind.
Laundry done. Bed made up with fresh crisp linen. Plants all watered. Fish tanks water changed. House cleaned…mostly. Now with 20 mins to midnight on New Year’s Eve, I can sit, pop a little bottle of bubbles and raise a toast bonvoyaging 2012.
Here’s to a fresh and clean start to 2013. Definitely out with the old and room for the new.
Happy New Year.
A belated Christmas check in with you all. I hope you had a sane day/s with your family. If not, I hope you were safe and warm and fed and at peace. I fear more and more people don’t have “somewhere to go” during the holidays. I hope if you weren’t with family, you got a smile from someone.
Our family’s Christmas venue changes each year – and that’s ok. What ties us to the years before is what we do on the day. We make sure we do the little things each year to celebrate the season and the beginning of a new year.
It’s a simple as:-
- a tupperware server full of nibbles – chocolate scorched almonds, choccie peanuts, jubes, rumballs, cashews, macadamia nuts. And it magically refills overnight to be full again for the feet up tradition of watching the Boxing Day test and the start of the Sydney to Hobart yacht race
- a bowl of mock chicken dip (my Nanna’s recipe and made by mum)
- a tray full of mangoes – eaten over the sink or in a bowl with ice-cream
- copious cups of coffee and tea and a good chat over each one
- cold roast chicken and ham off the bone with salads galore for lunch, dinner, lunch, dinner…you get the idea!
- christmas cake or pudding with custard – although no-one ever has the room
- short walks in the heat to stretch the legs and amuse the dog
- a christmas tree with gifts under it and cards amongst the branches
- at least one gag gift – this year I got an M&M dispenser….”You get in the bowl!” Ha.
- no twitter/facebook/texting – but lots of calls
And the best Christmas gift of all – a cracking storm that dumped enough rain to fill the tanks and back up the down pipes.
Here’s cheers to you and yours.
Today is the last day of my two weeks holiday. I had two weeks off to move house in June and now this is it for a good few months into 2013 (at least).
I had the first week over in Perth, Western Australia for the cricket test between Australia and South Africa mostly. I’ve never been to Perth before, so it was nice to cruise around a little and soak in the western vibe. I liked it very much.
Back home on the redeye – which basically wiped a day. To face four working days to tick off as many errands on my to do list as possible. I’ve got two big things left, half the Christmas shopping and sorting, one handmade art piece to do, and it’ll all have to get sorted during lunch hours…somehow.
Which of course means, that now I’m tired.
I need another holiday.
The “race that stops a nation” was run today with a reported $300m swapping hands (mostly in one direction towards the bookies, I’m figuring).
I won $100 on the sweeps at work – but for years I didn’t enter them. As a child, every teacher would run a class sweep for the Cup. I named my beloved toy donkey ‘Think Little’ as he was my very own baby brother to the mighty Think Big. I’d won a purse made out of a coconut for drawing him in my grade 1 sweep. Then I had a few lean years.
Tragedy struck in Grade 5. We all got to draw a name out of the hat for our classroom sweep. The year was 1979 and I drew a fantastic horse called Dulcify. He was a favourite but ‘broke down’ at the last turn to the straight. I didn’t understand what had happened until the tv showed him down on the ground with the vets all around him. I cried and cried.
A by-the-by line in the media gave away the news that a horse was destroyed at Flemington today.
“Oliver had a rollercoaster day after waking to headlines questioning whether he should be riding at all.
His ride in race one – Write the Cheque – finished well down the track, then in race four mount Rose of Peace broke down and was destroyed.”
And just like that, I’m back in grade 5 and I remember Dulcify. Won’t ever forget him.
I spent today unpacking more boxes and came across my Star Wars library. I haven’t added to it for a while, so there’s some gaps for sure, but I was surprised how much I remembered about each new twist in the Universe. I loved Timothy Zahn’s stories and the X-wing series was a joy.
My hope for the future is that Disney doesn’t cash in with a cartoonish fluff piece that doesn’t mesh with the novels already written around the original trilogy. ** For the benefit of young players, that’s episodes 4-6, not 1-3.
Some of the best sci-fi writers around have fleshed out generations of interaction, plot twists and tragedies faced by the characters we all know and love – I hope Disney will respect those.
And in case any Disney peeps see this, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don’t make “Vector Prime” until I’m ready. I bawled my eyes out for days when I read that – I couldn’t bear to see it happen.
Well well well. A draw – which is just like kissing your brother a la Angelina Jolie. Can’t believe the Wallabies got out of that one without a loss…or a win…or something. Well done!
But what a torrid and horrible affair. It was stinking hot and humid. DUMB time of year to play a game in the subtropics. Stupid ARU – but that’s hopefully the last half-arsed decision John O’Neill gets to make. An 8pm kickoff, which means it was 9pm for the Mexicans on daylight savings and 3 hours later (instead of 2) for our friends across the ditch.
I wrote yesterday that you have to go far to find a Kiwi supporter that sticks the boot in for no reason. Not that far, as it turns out, section 730 is the distance. There was a whole row of them, in fact. I don’t mind excitable commentary, the history lessons, the constant attempts to troll back inside their minds for a name that alludes them entirely (for the record, it was Frank Bunce you were trying to remember, you dipsticks), but I do mind being covered in your stinking beer before the anthems are sung and the affected accents that seemed to get stronger as the game progressed. Oh, and if you could mind your effing language when you’re in a section with kids, that’d also be awesome!
As for the game – I have NEVER seen the All Blacks show their frustration like that before. They were seriously pissed off. The Wallabies were up in their faces (with knees, foreheads and hands a-groping) and the Ref took care of the rest. The number of errors and subsequent penalties took your attention away from the defence! defence! approach of the Aussies. Solid effort in scrambling tackles and the numbers at the ruck was the best in ages. But the stop/start of it all was farcical. I hope the Aussies take some heart from the effort, but for mine, I’d have loved an attacking game of running rugby – even if we lost it.
We had the chance to race out of the office to catch the All Blacks signing session in the Queen St mall this morning. Tomorrow night is the third Bledisloe Cup match (Australia vs New Zealand in rugby union) – a tournament within a tournament (the Four Nations ‘Rugby Championship’) and it’s meant to be the best of its kind.
Bledisloe games should be the best running rugby around but I’m sad to say that I don’t reckon the Aussies are up to the contest. The forwards don’t get going forward, the backs can’t cover, the play makers are swamped and the number of players out with injury is ridiculous. And don’t get me started on the coach! The All Blacks are gonna steamroll us and then some.
I’ll always hope Australia wins (or at least plays good rugby), but there’s something impressive about the way the NZ team go about their sport. Even the fans are experts on the game – no really – you have to go a fair way to find a deadset arsehole who rips into Australian fans for no reason.
It never fails to make me feel better to smell a freshly mown lawn. My mower went under in the floods so I’ve splurged on a mower man who comes once a month. On a weekday morning, I hear the whippersnipper fire up when I’m in the shower. The mowers are going when I’m blow drying my hair. And by the time I am dressed and walk out to the kitchen – I look out on my lovely, looked after backyard. Somehow it looks more ‘clean’.
I had a meltdown at work today. I could see it happening. I could certainly feel it happening. But my head wouldn’t stop it happening. I don’t think I made too big a goose of myself. Too bad if I did.
I went from being pissed off at what I perceive as indirect bullying, through feverishly researching the procedures for making a formal complaint and eventually ending up (5 hours & a few tears in the bathroom later) at giving up completely. The environment at work will never change and, for my own health, I will spend my time finding another job.
It takes me sooooo long to get to the point of not letting it affect me. I wish I could work out a quicker way to “rise above” and not take things so personally. Haven’t got there yet.
Is there a trick to it? Not caring? Walking away? Chucking a sickie?
For now, it is putting together some flat pack furniture, a dinner of vegemite on toast and a gastrolyte ice block, two more panadol and bed.
My front door went from zero to hero with my pot plant revamp today. I had two very heavy black pots with ugly little plants left behind when I moved in. I knew they’d filled them up with dirt but I didn’t realise it’d petrified into stone 🙂 The other owners did mix their soil with beanbag foam though! Yikes.
Now it’s dug out and with some lively Aussie natives. I can add a few each month now and build a sweet and colourful entrance. Yay!
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a Siamese Fighter. I had quite a few, one after the other – Kostya, Ali, Lionel and Clay – and they were amazing. But when Clay died I didn’t have it in me to get another.
Well now, in my new home, I dragged out my old tank and went looking for a new fish. Caboolture Markets hosted the Betta Australis International Betta Show a few weeks back and I put my name down for 4 of the non-placers (assuming I’d be able to afford one of them). Then, by-the-by my brother says he can make me a new tank – with compartments for a couple of fish. DILEMMA!!! Now I had to wait to see whether my ones were still available and if I got the call to give me their prices. As it turned out, I got the chance to buy up to 3 of the ones I’d liked, but could only afford 2, so I grabbed my favourites and have a third section in my new tank to use for water changes or maybe even a boudoir for a little lady. *wink wink*
“Artie” is named after the late, great Artie Beetson. He’s both NSW blue (where Beetson had to play to make a buck) but the Queensland Maroon surrounds him and shows through. “Sith” has his name because he’s black and vibrant red and the first of the two to fire up.
If you’ve never kept fish, they can seem quite sedate, but they honestly have their own personality and attitude that you see in them. It’s been a couple of days now and they are both settling in, starting to respond to feeding time and are not scared away from my hand at the top of the tank.
I think me and my boys will be just fine.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m an Apple girl, but the new iPhone shits me. I look at it and see all the sweet gizmos I use with my current iPhone needing to be replaced. And I’m never going to find just what I want again. No matter how much better they make their stuff it always seems to make all the peripherals obsolete. They must have shares in those companies. It takes sooooo long to find the extras – the right case, the right sleeve, the right charger and extra battery set up.
I get updating for new technology, better technology, but to deliberately make it incompatible with anything else is annoying. And don’t get me started on another unique docking pin. FFS!
I’ve not seen Brisbane CBD quite this bad before. Certainly public servants ‘network’ over coffee, but the groups are smaller this time. Real small.
If it wasn’t so serious, it’d be funny how close this is to fiction – everyone whispering “He’s back. Voldemort’s back”, but no-one’s laughing. There are a lot of pale faces.
I don’t think it’s started to sink in that professional workers, good people, efficient teams doing valuable projects are being sacked to meet a number pulled from Costello’s report. It’s sickening.
I had a lovely little wildlife encounter today when I went outside to water the plants this afternoon. An adolescent magpie hunting around the backyard came running up to me with a couple of grasshoppers in his beak. He came right up close enough to pat. I think the previous owners must have fed him some mince… Very nice having him follow me round the yard though. I might have to restart the tradition.
I dragged my cold’n’flu arse down to the bank this morning. Running nose, hacking cough, tissues up the sleeves (clean up the left, dirty up the right). Trackie-daks – grey with a Han Solo Correllian double stripe down the sides in white. An oversized fleece – blue with an inside collar of red. Undershirt was a mud army t-shirt – maroon of course. Black pumps, black socks. Hair up in the bogan butterfly. Truly, a vision of beauty. Bank did what I wanted reeeaaaaaallllly quickly. I’m now home, logging into said bank website – and what was promised has not been done. Am not sure if I’ll be going back down there…might call the branch and threaten it though 🙂
So, work is a changing with a lot of decisions being made that both my workmates and I will feel the effects of down the track. There’s a bit of stress involved in having my work changed – there’s some fear that I have to trust the bosses are making informed choices based on the facts – not guesswork or ignorance. Feelings of disappointment comes from the fact that there’s not much praise around for doing my work. So when it changes I need to be very clear that it’s not because it was done badly or that I failed – although there’s an element of that bias being implied from some unsavoury personalities. For my part, I’m trying to not be precious about what I do. I know I work hard, I know I know my work and how it gets done best. I know there will be inefficiencies created in the change and I’ll have to work them out. Cleaning up after dumb moves is a recurring theme in my work life 😦 And the pessimist in me knows the changes will be made whether they are the best way to do things or not. I don’t have a say. The hardest thing is to keep in mind that the buck doesn’t stop with me. And I can only do my best with what I’m given.
I’m looking forward to moving in to my own place – but the thing I’m most excited about is painting one single wall in a room. That’s all. It’s the only thing that would make me happier in the place. Strange by true. It’s currently a happy and bright blue colour – a cross between Valleys Diehard and French Royal – but it’s too bright for my idea of a bedroom. My perfect bedroom is dark and cosy – so paint will be the order of the day. I don’t want fancy shmancy, no tricky techniques, just a deep and calm colour. I was tossing up a purple, but think I’ll go a dark storm grey … kinda like this…how exciting. 🙂
For those playing along, I’m wending my way through the maze that is home ownership. What a stress-filled time it is. I’m certainly learning a lot about what people are comfortable with – and what I’m not comfortable with. The biggest shock of late has been the barefaced bluff made by real estate agents – even in answer to my direct questions. It’s quite confronting for me to have someone persist in fudging vague information about something when I’m standing there looking at it. Unbelievable. Weak. Entirely unimpressive.
Quite a bit of synchronicity around at the moment. All of it is pointing to the need to start looking after myself. No-one else is going to do it for me, right? Reminders are coming through the lives of friends and family, workmates too. Slow down. Nothing, NOTHING, is more important than health. Not a half hour of flex time being saved, not getting the early bus, not “doing everything that needs doing”.
I think that’s the lesson for me. The only person who sets the rules that start with “I have to…” is me. I can let things go – but I should never let go me. My time to stop, rest, sleep, eat properly and exercise is not less important.
A salute to Jeremy Piven for this photo. Ain’t it the truth though? “Oh woe is me” has never been so prevalent…First World Problems they’re called. Where’s our sense of perspective gone? Have we forgotten where we come from? We grew up in houses – not in mud huts. We were dry and clean and warm. Do we not look at those around us – all struggling with problems of their own – or do we look straight through them?
I refuse to believe Australia is getting to the point where everyone who has more “haves” than “nots” doesn’t give a stuff until it’s them that loses out. There’s a lot of community spirit around, I see it everyday. I’ve been in workplaces where it’s the lowest paid members of staff who always “bring a plate” to celebrate life’s milestones. I’ve been in workplaces where the top dog earning nearly $200k a year can’t put a bottle of plonk on the table – because the tank in his beemer is nearly empty.
What’s the minimum you need? A roof, a job to pay for it and you and your family healthy. Period.
Today’s lesson is that we’re never on our own, never really the first at anything. Someone has always gone through what we find ourselves faced with. And there’s a comfort in that. If other people can deal with my problems and come out the other side then so can I.
We’re not “Pat Malone”. Someone has done it before us. The context might be different, but the experience is the same the whole world over. And you know what, others come through it with less support, less resources, less education, health, wealth and security then we’ve got. Being mindful of that gives a perspective that is priceless. Hang on to it.
I’ve been thinking about getting this tattoo for a while. I need something to help remind me to respect myself – my thoughts, my feelings, my wants and my needs. I find I let them (me) take second place quite often.
I think there are a lot of people like me out there. We have no say at work because we’re the ‘drones’. We go along with social plans and ideas because its not polite to make waves – and really is it a big deal? And of course we all get brought up to accommodate family – no question – because we love them. Fair enough.
I need something to remind me that my say isn’t always secondary, even though:-
1) I get scared. I’m terrified of making a wrong choice so I dither and am unsure.
2) I worry too much – thinking things through an infinite number of “if this, then that” scenarios.
3) I retreat from conflict. I don’t want to offend or upset anyone.
4) I compromise – or delay agreeing 🙂
5) I don’t act on my ideas because I fear judgement and derision.
6) I get depressed about feeling “pushed into” a position that ultimately my behaviors allow.
So, I want a visible and constant sign to let me know that my choices are ok and that my say counts. My decisions made for me might disappoint others, but that’s not my problem. I should stand my ground.
“Courage is a kind of salvation” – I’m hoping Aristotle was right.
I’ll be writing all the notes I can about all the hoops I’ve had to jump through and the reasons why the process has been a nightmare. Most importantly, I want to document how to beat the mongrels at their own game. I want to be prepared for the next time we do battle.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t “get a bargain” – I am sure I paid more than I should have for the home I’ve signed for. But I feel like I spent so long figuring out the rules of this game, that it’s like I started from scratch again just recently.
Now I know there’s a month or so of documents, finances, filling in forms and boxes to tick – not to mention the boxes to pack. But soon, it’ll be over – for a while anyway.
Another Banksy got wrecked in Australia this week – the parachuting rat bit the dust. I’m not sure Banksy would care really. Graffiti in itself is meant to be transient. A fleeting glimpse of something a little more special decorating the ugly functional walls we build to trap ourselves.
I call his work art because it makes me consider the reality of life I might not normally see or understand. It’s poignant. It’s simple. It packs a punch. It’s much more than glary colours and funked up lettering.
This is art. Long may it reign.
I love family get togethers. My family gathers for a meal every fortnight to catch up and share what’s going on. It’s not a long amount of time, given the travel distances, but it’s a good time. It’s so we can all connect in to each others lives. Otherwise, we get too busy with all the “have to do” to really know how each other is going. It’s not enough to just trust they’ll tell you if they need something.
Spent most of yesterday beating myself up for not understanding the “tone” and intent of a meeting – I botched it. Nothing worse than walking out feeling blindsided and underprepared. It’s that classic “spend the next 24 hours thinking of all the things I shoulda/coulda/woulda said instead of what I did say” moments. Shit.
Today was Mothers Day down under. The second Sunday of May. It’s a beautiful drive out to where my parents live – takes around an hour and a half. Coffees in keep cups, pressies and flowers on the back seat and we hit the road early. We time it so we’re just in time for a cuppa…once we get past the big puppy.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks my mum is the sweetest woman in the world, but I’m the only one who’s right 🙂 She must be amazing to have raised such fine kids – ha!
Here’s to the women who raised us – no matter what title you give them. I hope you got to give yours a hug too.
Work has been a little unsettled of late. There’s a reshuffle going on with the higher paid members of the office community – not that anyone is saying anything. It’s like the powers that be are more happy to shift everything on paper and then tell the pieces the news and suffer the fallout.
I am one of the pieces. So how do I deal with being the last to know when it’s my 8 hours a day that’s changing? Beats me actually – I don’t do it that well. I go back to the important principles of leadership. The things I value in a boss – honesty, straight-forward info, handshakes, open communication and telling it like it is to the face of the person that it is too…if that makes sense. Basically I think I expect the kind of behaviour that doesn’t get delivered in times like these.
My “Queen CLM” title (ie. career-limiting-moves) comes from my not being able to look a game-player in the eye once I see how they make their moves. I lose a lot of respect for people very quickly. I know they don’t care about it – but I’ve never been good ~ never will be good ~ at pretending how they play the game doesn’t matter.
I don’t smile when someone’s blowing smoke up my arse. And I sure as hell don’t thank them for it. But, that’s my problem – so I buy myself some roses and sleep well at night. Not sure how they sleep – but that’s their problem.
It’s been a long week. I didn’t even realise until yesterday that this weekend is a long with the Monday a public holiday for … Labor Day? Ironic really, given the result of the state election held last month. Labor Day reminds me of the story of the traveller who stopped at the tree in the outback – the one with the $5m art installation and shed build around it. $5m for that but the locals don’t have a dentist. Says everything really.
I wake up to the same radio station each morning. Same bat time, same bat channel. I like the announcers – they make me smile. But I’ve got to be honest and say that I’ve become discouraged with the current flavour of music. It’s not just that the station has their “high rotation” hits they push through each peak session. (Skrillex again anyone?)
It’s that the hits of today seem soulless. The lyrics are misogynistic at worst, self centred at best – from both male and female artists. Most of the middle ground is dross. Take this Nicki Minaj (spelling?) for example. Of all the inane primary grade poets the english (?) language throws up, these songs in particular disappoint me.
I don’t mind the electronic funk beat, the overbearing bass, even the techtronic vocals. I draw my line at the trilling rubbish. I get the humour in the LMFAO boys and I freely admit to never having got into video so much – except a late night drink watching RAGE. But I’ve got to wonder – how many of these modern day products actually even write their own words? A lot of it seems very hollow.
I love this time of year. It’s starting to cool down – it only topped out to 25 degrees today here in Brissie. Brrrrrrrrr.
The rug is now down on the wood floor. Still in cotton socks to walk around, but will be breaking out the woollie ones soon enough. If there’s one thing we subtropical people do well, it’s rug up for the chilly stuff.
A few more degrees and I’ll be changing out the northern hemisphere coats and thermal underwear. Yes, thermals and polyprops! In Brisbane! Anything under 20 degrees and it’s positively Antarctic (relatively speaking).
Stay warm, everyone.