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Tuesday Oct 26, 2010

I wear a shower cap whenever I have a shower and I’m not washing my hair. I may look like a knob but seriously curly hair and steam is a bitch.

My mother was a complete hippie when Sabine and I were younger. She made all of our own clothes, she was a vegetarian who wouldn’t walk past a butcher, she baked, she grew a lot of our own food. She gave this up when we were about 6 or 7 but still, it was nice while it lasted.

I get really really anxious when I have to go out to places on my own. I’ve got a 30th birthday party this weekend that is almost making me nauseous as I’ve got to go on my own and a bunch of people I don’t particularly like (school people) will be there. Turns out part of my anti-social personality is just bog standard anxiety.

I used to be a disgustingly active kid. I used to run all the bloody time and had calluses on my hands from all the time I spent on the monkey bars. I see my active childhood as making up for my slothful later years.

I would like to have a ton of children but I think I’d also be okay to just be an aunt too.

I turn 30 next year and I’m probably the most content I’ve been in a long time.

I always sleep on my stomach and apparently I snore. Sabine taped me snoring one night. I read her diary a lot as payback.

I adore my friends. Absolutely love the shit out of my core group of friends. Could do without some of the acquaintances but I have the friends I always wanted.

I want a farm so badly I can’t even put it into words.

I’m closer to my Dad, Sabine is closer to our Mum. Sabine and I had the ‘who gets which parent’ conversation a couple of years ago. She gets Mum, I get Dad. I think I got the better deal because our mother? She’s an almost perfect mix of Eddie and Patsy from Absolutely Fabulous. Which makes me Saffy I suppose.

I wanted to be a PE teacher and the first female prime minister when I was 5. Fucking Gillard beat me to it.

At Beth’s wedding there’s going to be a former state premier there and I know I’m going to end up having shots with him at the bar at 3 a.m.

I love cats but I really want a chocolate labrador. I’d call him/her Cocoa.

As a child of divorce I learnt two things: how to pack really well (lots of back and forth) and that I need stability far more than usual.

I keep on naming my pets names that I really should’ve kept for children’s names. Can’t really call a daughter Poppy anymore can I? Beth seems to think I can but if I found out my parents had named me after a dog I’d be pretty pissed.

I’ve never blocked anyone on Facebook, because let’s face it I deny as many friend requests as I approve so I have less people as my friends than normal. As a result I get quite upset if I’m blocked. It’s happened once and I still want to punch the person in the balls.

When I quit smoking last time I once followed a stranger smoking 2 blocks out of my way because the scent was intoxicating. It’s been too long since my make out session that I’m starting to get the same feeling when I walk past a delicious smelling man.

I think if John Lennon had lived he’d been a crotchety irrelevant old man. A male version of Germaine Greer that we’d all groan at when he took another jab at McCartney in the media.

I feel like the biggest cunt in the world when I walk past someone begging and I don’t give them any money.

Learning how to drive this year was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. Considering I once stalled an automatic car this is progress.

I’m okay with watching porn but I get oddly icked out watching non-physical intimate moments in movies. I find it confronting. And no, I don’t get it either.

I think people who are constantly late are the rudest pricks in the world.

I think my grandma is one of the most awesome chicks I know. As long as you don’t mention the war.

I judge people constantly, it’s what keeps my entertained.

I think people who travel and load their literally hundreds of photos of their travels on Facebook are dicks. I feel they travel moreso for the photos and being able to start conversations with, “one time in Amsterdam…” than for the experience.

I can’t stand Vegemite. It’s yeast spread for gods sake. Yeast spread!

I despair when I hear of people my age who think the withdrawal method is an effective contraceptive. *waves* withdrawal method baby right here.

My aunt recently passed away. She was pretty estranged from the family and man are we finding out some interesting stuff. I’ve got 3 more cousins than I knew about! 3! And 2 of them are in jail! Jailbirds in the family! At least we’ll have stuff to talk about this Christmas.

Boring update

Wednesday Oct 20, 2010

I took a couple of days off from work and I had a great long weekend.

I’ve been doing this project at work that’s meant steady 12 hour work days for the past couple of months. And I am the laziest workaholic you’ll ever meet. So I’d been feeling a bit burnt out.

I’d planned for a short-ish road trip but the hire car plan had fallen through. Instead I lazed around and slept a lot, and I went to the zoo and I had Beth over for dinner (and cooked my first lamb roast) and my Dad came and stayed for a night and we got drunk together.

It’s been lovely and I haven’t thought of work once and I didn’t get my usual ‘Sunday’ night headache, which is a fricking miracle.

I also had an appointment with my tax dude and discovered I’ll get a nice tax return too. I’m thinking of using it to buy a little car. Just a little buzz box that squeals a little when you go over 100. Not that I do that on my P’s though ahem.

The farm? Is still plodding along. Apparently a lot of banks don’t lend on properties over 25 acres. My little plot? 26 acres. Throw in me being a first home buyer and doing it on my own and it’s taking longer than I thought it would.

I’ve been a bit down about it all to be honest. I feel like a financial fuck up. I know I’m not, but there’s been two lenders who’ve said they couldn’t offer a mortgage. One of them because the land was “too remote” (no shit Sherlock, it’s a fucking rural property.) The other because they could. Sure the [insert bank name that rhymes with Fommonwealth] can have my business for the past 25 goddamn years and offer me credit card after credit card with retarded limits, but a small mortgage? Nooooo.

(As you can see I’m a little fucked off with this particular bank.)

So I’ve been keeping an eye out on other properties that would be easier to get a loan on but that would still make an awesome weekender. I found an old church for sale today, it’s kind of lovely and is obscenely cheap. Maybe that’s a good alternative.

Even if I’d have to hold my breath every time I walked into it [god and I have a strained relationship.]

Apart from that things are pretty good. Oh, except for the birthday invitation I received yesterday for a masquerade themed party. A masked party that all of the girls who I went to high school with will be going. I’m going to try and force BeardedMan to be my date for the night, just so I have a partner. Also so I can talk trash about the girls there to someone. It’s going to be a trainwreck, God give me strength.

The darkness

Sunday Oct 17, 2010

In attempting to blog honestly and without wank here’s the next one:

I tend to have…odd ideas about relationships and being single. Probably the biggest cause of this?

Every single relative (of both sides of my family) has either never married/been in a long term relationship, been divorced or widowed. Literally every single one of them – no happy marriages that didn’t end. The longest relationship was my Dad’s parents, 59 years they’d been married before Granddad passed away.

Lovely story right? (Well, except for the death part, that’s pretty sad.)

Except they couldn’t stand each other. Drove each other mad and lived apart for the last 20 odd years of their marriage.

The only successful relationship was my Aunt and Uncle, 30 years they’d been together before cancer made her a widow.

As a result I’m kind of cynical when it comes to relationships. I believe things like:

1. Finding a good partner comes down more to luck than anything else.

2. Relationships/marriages don’t last.

3. People who must be in relationships are sad people.

4. If people are still single by a certain age there must be something wrong with them.

Aren’t they awful ideas? Cynical, awful and yet for some reason they all tend to ring true to me based on experience.

I do think that meeting someone you can have a relationship with comes down to luck. I’ve met probably 3 men that I could have seen myself long term with – married, babies the whole shebang. But the trifecta wasn’t complete – right person, right place, right time. And to get those 3 things in place is complete bloody luck.

I believe until you’ve been single for let’s say a year – spent the Christmas holidays single, a birthday single, had to handle rent and bills and changing lightbulbs and household repairs, been sick and pathetic on your own, walk into a party on your own knowing no one else and relying on just your little own self? You don’t really know yourself or what you’re capable of.

I do believe that if you’re constantly single (like I am) that there’s likely to be something funky about you.

My issues? I’m anti-social and have odd ideas like the above. Do I think I make an awesome girlfriend? Shit yes. Do I think I would make a great long term partner/wife? Hell yes. Am I typing this as a 29 year old single chick in tracksuit pants on a Sunday night with my cat next to me watching a Stephen Fry documentary? Yup!

With that said do I think I’m going to do my damnedest to be the one to ‘break’ the family curse? Absolutely. There’s nothing I quite like more than proving something/someone wrong. Will I try and stop being so bloody bitter? Yes.

And to quote a very wise long haired man “I believe in a thing called love.”


Monday Oct 11, 2010

I’ve realised how little I put of myself here. I write about my life as if we’re friends catching up over coffee. Not best friends though, the type that catches up every couple of months and goes over the surface but not the kind to tell of a pregnancy scare or the latest antics of your nutjob family.

And it’s odd considering how protective I’ve been of this page, that I change the majority of my friends names, that I hide locations and bars and suburbs purely to blab about what I did over the weekend.

So I’m going to try and stop that, I may protect a post or two but I’m going to try and not be so naff.


I suffer from mild depression.

Considering one parent suffers from clinical depression and the other has some weird hybrid of manic depressive/anxiety I always knew that I was far more likely to be diagnosed with some funky disorder than not.

I saw mood swings, manic behaviour and luckily only 1 or 2 serious cases of depression growing up. I love my parents, adore them and even like them most of the time. But at times they were pretty crap at being the parent and I always felt like somebody needed to keep shit together, and why not me.

So I turn out sensible as fuck. I’m practical. If I’m out on a school night I’m home in time for 8 hours sleep, even if I leave right when it’s getting good. Because working a full day still slightly drunk/painfully hungover is not cool for me. I rarely drink to excess, I’ll be the one holding your hair back and teasing you the next day about it. I’d much prefer to be at home than anywhere else. But most of all I have stuff under control and I try and keep my shit together.

Until about 2 or 3 years ago I realised that a bad day had turned into a bad month, and then a bad year. For no particular reason and I hadn’t really noticed. I was irritable, quick to anger and staying at home only until Beth got worried and I’d put in an appearance and put a smile on and she’d be pacified for a bit.

I was unhappy and sad and I didn’t know what else to do to feel better. I’d tried diet, exercise, meditation, positive thoughts, herbal remedies and I still felt like a sad sack.

I went to my local GP and when she asked what was wrong I burst into tears and told her that I was sad all the time and I didn’t know

She prescribed me a mild anti-depressant. I felt relieved. Just that I’d asked for help, that I just couldn’t do it on my own and someone acknowledged it wasn’t normal to feel this way and I didn’t have to keep beating myself up for failing to keep my shit together

After about a month I remember thinking I’d been conned, I felt just the bloody same. I wasn’t euphoric or doped up or anything that I thought taking this type of medication would cause.

Until I realised that I hadn’t had a crying session in the work bathrooms for a good couple of weeks. That I hadn’t woken up every single fucking day wanting to call in sick and stay at home where I didn’t have to deal with anyone. That if something small but irritating occurred I wouldn’t end up furious and crying. That I felt stable and even and not sad. That I could get out of bed each day and not count the hours down until I could get back into it.

Except for a single occurrence of a few hellish months where I had to switch antidepressants because they stopped working I’ve been good. I’ve been not sad, unless I have a reason to be sad. I’ve been upset when I have a reason to be upset. I do know that some things aren’t related to my funky brain chemistry but are simply part of me. It’s just part of my personality to be a bit anti-social, that crying every now and then in the work bathroom is okay (especially if you’ve had a cunty day) and it’s such a bloody relief that while the crazy genes may have been inherited that I’ve got my shit together.

For me antidepressants work. For some people it’s exercise or relationships or working long hours. What’s not cool is trying to fix someone in the way you think will work. That someone being sad has absolutely nothing to do with you. That trying to cheer someone up is not going to work. Whatever gets them through and isn’t destructive is the right course of action for them.

So yes, go team drugs (for me)!

So, that’s it. I’m going to post this and go to sleep and hope I don’t cringe tomorrow when reading this. Good night xx

Lazy weekend update

Saturday Oct 9, 2010

A quick update:

1. I just had a 3 hour nap and it was lurvely. This week has been a bit quieter at work but a couple of nights out for drinks and I was a wee bit tired. Poppy has taken to sleeping on top of at night, she’ll curl up on my back (I sleep on my stomach.) It’s cute, except she’s a tubby thing and I tend to wake up with a back ache. Good times.

2. I’m taking Friday and Monday off next week. We’re smack bang in the middle of this project at work, since there’s a bit of a lull before the second half kicks in I’m taking a couple of days off. But what should I do?

– Do a road trip? Head out of Sydney, stay at a B&B and chill out a bit?

– Book a hotel room in the city for a couple of nights? Go to the gallery, go for cocktails/dinner?

– Go and visit Mormon Housewife and hang out with her and the babies?

3. I caught up with two old work friends this week. One is Melbourne boy (I wrote about him years ago) who was up in Sydney and the other my work nemesis from my last job. It was a good night and there was a possibility of a job offer which is always good to have options. These two boys give me hope that there are decent guys out there.

4. And that’s all I’ve got. Hope you’re having a good weekend.

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