Friday Looming

2011-05-03T17:14:00.002+10:00

Since I moved to this city I’ve become meaner.

I’m harder. At times, less optimistic. Tougher. I’ve ceased to make eye contact with passers by in the street. And there’s certainly no “Hi, how are you” with the expectation of a reply that I had learned during my time in the Top End. For the first three years of my time being mean in this city I would catch the train to work, read a book that I was only kind of into, and listen to the same angsty music that I listened to on my way to school when I was fifteen and hope that I was not playing loud enough for fellow passengers to hear. My own secret train guilt. I tried to perfect being the kind of person whose feet doesn’t move when the train makes a turn. Telling myself, don’t look up, just push and shove and move. Like when I played in the scrum. Now I feel a sense of personal superiority as I delight in riding my bike to work and leave the train to suburban fools.

In this city, when I’m alone, I am the most important person that I know. I dislike and accept that. I walk fast, walk so fast and eye roll the slow person walking up the stairs as I’m trying to make it on time to the job that I hate and can’t draw the motivation to get up early enough for. People ask me for money at train stations and supermarkets, drunk people piss on themselves, junkies throw up by my feet, children scream and I pretend they are not there. I’m alone in this city. I don’t know anybody.

Its the fashion capital so I have a go at dressing like an idiot. Go back to my home town and think ‘why the fuck am I wearing so much black and where did these accessories come from?’ I strut down the street briskly when I am only getting a coffee, taking myself out for breakfast, or a cheeky drink that will take the edge off of being alone all the time.

Still, in a city filled with so many people, I must not acknowledge them. This becomes somewhat difficult because there are so many interesting and attractive things, most of them wearing there sisters’ jeans and riding fixie bikes. Grumble at the extortionate city-tax bar prices but be too nervous to refrain from drinking. When somebody talks to me at a bar, I laugh coyly and blurt some rubbish about how stupid this city is, just because I’m not really feeling a part of it. Offend them. Know a lot of people, just barely.

I’ve become suspicious of ‘nice guys’ because I am no longer nice. I get nervous whenever I enter some part of the city that looks really local, fearing that the locals will sniff my scent and drive me out of town. I’ve learned that this city is big, but it is actually very small. Get drunk, meet new drunk friends, and never see them again. See a girl I went to high school with. Think about crossing the road so she doesn’t see me. Too late, caught. She looks great and I nervously chat about my life and mention my boyfriend inappropriately because I’m intimidated. Send e-mails to people back home whenever the airlines have a special. Grow terrified of my bank account as I furiously eat money with no friends. Bury my head in my hands at my desk when I think nobody is looking. Think about how stupid I was only a few years ago, abandon old dreams and make new ones. Find fog really romantic. Find unemployment really romantic. Drink on Thursday nights, because Thursday is the new Friday. Actually Thursday is less intimidating because less people are out. Take personal days in the tiny kitchen that is filled with gourmet condiments, and eat a bag of chips. Learn about coffee. Shop at a Farmer’s Market only 6 kms from the CBD.

Try to connect with a small circle of friends that I already knew before I moved here, people who were friends of friends. Realise that I never became friends with them in my old town for a reason and find a way to cut them loose. Hold onto and love my girlfriends back home, fiercely. Get a sickening feeling in my stomach when I realise that most of those friends now refer to me as an ‘old-friend’.

Have numbers in my phone that I don’t need. Have a zillion friends on facebook whose numbers and birthdays I don’t know and wouldn’t do anything with that information if I had it.

Give up a big house and a veggie patch to roll into domestic routine with my boyfriend in a small dust collecting town house opposite a train line. Feel like this is an accomplishment until I feel restless and want an Xbox. Feel like being restless is a thing I should feel, like it’s smart and good for me. Fall in love with a black cat but refrain from referring to each other as Mum and Dad of said black cat. Go home to friend’s wedding and dance stupidly and tell everybody the next day that I can’t believe how I danced, even though it was the most amount of fun I’ve had in months.

Fall in love with a new kind of ethnic food, probably only because it’s walking distance from my house, and fall more in love with brunch than I ever thought possible. Make connections with dogs on the street. Spend too much time contemplating life on long concrete walks. See the sunrise less than I should. Barely see anybody I like during the day. Forget to buy toilet paper and use tissues in the dunny. Take cabs at 3am. Bitch mercilessly about the state of the taxi industry in this state.

Meet nice people somewhere I didn’t expect. Have a conversation with somebody I never thought I would meet. Talk to somebody out of the blue. Enjoy these moments of fate immensely. Have more faith in humanity than I did when I lived back home.

Call a friend at home to tell them all about it but stop when I realise that they think I’m becoming a wanker.

Come home late smelling like smoke. Wonder how that happened, but really know exactly how that happened. Promise I won’t spend too much money shouting drinks for work colleagues whom I don’t even really like, spend too much money on drinks for work colleagues whom I don’t even really like. Send texts to everybody I miss who is not in town because I feel nostalgic for everything. Be lonely, ‘kind of lonely, and ‘sort of lonely’ for months. Long to find a girlfriend who can drink and smoke like me who is also somebody I like enough to watch movies with. Pay bills late. Revel in the fact that that I’m not afraid of a nasty red letter. Feel really proud of my menu planning and intake of fresh, in season, locally grown vegetables. Stop eating fruit once the corporate fruit box runs out. Get to know myself and be surprised by it.

Forget all the great reasons why I moved here, fall in love with the reasons I didn’t. Think-
Singing in the car, driving in the hills, shopping in my lunch break, having lunch away from my desk, BBQ’s after work with friends, game nights in back yard, dress up parties - lot’s of them, roughly twenty of the most fun, mildly screwed up, gorgeous (and I mean physically beautiful) girl friends who are never further than a twenty minute drive away, couple-friends, Nick’s face and mood when he gets home from a down hill ride that is just up the hill and not a weekend away, two cars, a veggie garden, deli’s - really awesome deli’s with delicious small goods and fresh bread only a walk away, being a non Italian in an Italian neighborhood, the sound of burnouts and fast cars breaking the sound barrier at 3 am on a school night, going to the rugby - the smell of the cut grass, the open fire and deep heat, my Nan, a quick cleansing drive to the beach followed by a run on the sand without fear of stepping on used needles, great pubs, schnitzels, the East End on a nice night, after work drinks, crazy karaoke nights that I am always to embarrassed to admit that I hate and love and the same time, knowing the streets, suburbs and shopping centers like the back of my hand, Villie’s pies, local wine lists, Haighs without the Collins St pretentiousness, down to earth people, my two best mates - never more than a hug away.

Revel in being alone, revel in learning a city. Hate every job I have. Hate every bar I go to. Love both of these. Love everything. Have really, really GOOD days. Stare at the city like ‘I got this.’ Swear I will eventually leave. Fall in love with it again. Hate it again. Be satisfied.

Buy a brand new car. Enjoy it. Remember how much money half a million sounded like a few years ago, when I was young. Pay that for a house in a shitty suburb I won’t feel safe in.

Accept all of this and realise that it’s exactly what I want. End the restlessness. Fall back in love. Cuddle the black cat. Be satisfied.

Oh Em Gee - Blogs about ADHD are borring!

2011-04-18T11:35:00.005+10:00

So, diagnosis is confirmed, I have a condition known as Innattentive Adult Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. You'll see from my last post that I suspected that this might be the case and went about doing a lot of reading. I also thought I might turn to blogging about the subject - blog my journey through the treatment. But OH MY GOG, bloggers on this topic are soooooo self involved and boring zzzzzzzzz! So this is just about the last time I will write about my ADHD diagnosis (unless once I start the treatment I go on drug fuelled rants - could be fun right?). I thought I'd just share some of what I have learnt and we can move on....

ADHD effects the 'executive decision making' part of the brain, it doesn't make you crazy or eccentric, you'll have to find another disorder to pin that on.

Treatment for ADHD is via stimulants, and no you can't have any.

Treatment will not be life changing, rather life enhancing, As my Psych said "much like if you had Asthma and you took Ventolin you just might become an Olympic swimmer".

So no blogs from me about ADHD and productivity, new found reliance list making, big noting my creativity, patting myself on the back for making appointments on time, projecting and feelin tetchy, my long suffering partner, what happens when I foget my drugs, my long life hoplessness which is now okay because the Doctor gave me a reason for it.... really there is enough of it out there.

Peace.

Adult ADHD!?

2011-03-21T16:29:00.003+11:00

Early in my “serious” working life I went through a phased obsession with online personality tests. A wave of ego-fueled excitement would wash over me when into my inbox landed the Meyers-Briggs kind that allowed me to feign self-awareness and also discover I had more in common with Oprah than previously thought. According to personality tests, I am an introvert because I like alone time but also an extrovert because I publicly share this fact.

Last year I discovered a new sense of self-awareness that I wasn’t looking for however, through the NIDA course that I attended I learned a lot about myself and in turn grew my confidence and self awareness. I’m not awkward, I do not lack self esteem however recently, some old self doubts started to creep in and I felt like I might be getting depressed.

This new sense of self awareness and ability of self reflection opened up a whole new possibility to me that I never ever considered. There are many things that I am capable of and can achieve, but something stands in my way? Was it motivation or self control? Was I bored or depressed or could there be a neuropsychological underpinning for much of my mood and behavior.

Concentration, motivation and routine have always been difficult for me but I always thought that I was just a little bit lazy. University didn’t go so well for me, not one of my three attempts. I did reasonably well at school, I was clever enough to get decent marks with minimal homework (what could be done in the night before a task was due) and at work I’m much the same. I lose stuff, I forget to important things (like pay fines or put petrol in the car), I’ve learned to do things as soon as I think of them or I will forget. If you watched me do chores at home you would find it hilarious, I work like a fly buzzing seemingly erratically from one direction to another. I am always multi tasking. My brain zigs and zags all over the place. I have a quick temper and cry when I’m frustrated. I can’t commit to routine, I’m always more aware of back ground noise than the conversation I am in and the white space on a page is very hard for me to ignore in order to actually read the words. I am easily agitated (the sound of typing on a keyboard can force the need for me to take a walk around the block). I am an impulsive eater/drinker/shopper/talker, I fidget all the time, and I often blurt out impulsive comments at meetings. I use the wrong word or name for things all the time and I don’t even realise - I know what I mean and I’m surprised when someone picks me up on it. Numbers look the same to me, e.g. 3170 and 180 can look the same to me. My attention to detail is appalling (a problem given the job I hold). At night my mind races so fast I cannot sleep, so I sometimes have a drink or two (or three or…..) to slow down my mind or more recently, I over exercise. I am also tired all the time from the effort to focus.

Since the age of about 15, I have felt bored. Always.

Recently I discussed this with my GP. It was the bravest thing that I have ever done. I told her exactly what I have written above and I got a bit emotional but I didn’t cry. She listened and proposed the idea that I may have Adult ADHD and referred me to a Psychiatrist for a formal diagnosis.

30 years old and I find out that I may have ADHD. Huh! Words fail me at this point in time; I really don’t know how to express the frustration/anger/relief/excitement that I may have a treatable condition that accounts for so much of my behavior.

So on 7 April I will see the shrink and let you know how it goes…. In the meantime I will continue reading about the condition and share my thoughts with you.

Challenge: Just say it - How you feel

2011-03-07T12:23:00.002+11:00

Today I feel like I need new hair.

Challenge: Just say it - Something you would like to say to your family

2011-03-01T11:51:00.003+11:00

I love you but you're boring.

Rouge Vulgarie

2011-02-23T21:08:00.005+11:00

See this image? When I did for the first time it was larger than life on the side of a bus shelter and unashamedly I fell head over heels for the shade and made it my mission to buy this lipstick. I don’t often indulge, believe it or not; I am quite circumspect when it comes to the purchase of exclusive/luxury cosmetics but, this I had to have. And when I say mission, I mean EPIC mission.

It all started with a lunch time trip to DJ’s. This was when I was working for the banking Nazi’s and I had to steal lunch times away from my desk. A six block walk (in heels) later and I find myself being ignore by the bespoke cosmetician in a fitted Chanel uniform. With my humph on I turn on my heels and take my grumpy self to the less stylised Chanel counter at Myer. Here I finally find some service, smile - no, attention - yes.

I point to the photograph and in an uncharacteristically meek voice I say “I want that”. The po-faced assistant recognises my need and professionally settles me into a tall directors chair and goes about the task of applying said shade. In doing so she informs me that many women whom have shared my lipstick lust have found that the shade does not look the same on them. She hands me the mirror and I realise the same fate. Instead of the virgin blood stain I yearned for I look back at a corpse coloured woman wearing house paint. I sigh, yet hope is not lost. Out of nowhere she pulls the one... # 17 Orchidee. Not the one in the crafted photo but the one that turns me into the picture of youth I so desire... only it’s out of stock and they don’t know when they’ll get it back in.

And so my true mission begins. I rush back to work, card in hard with both shade and stock number written down. Come on inter webs, don’t fail me now. I learn that its out of stock EVERYWHERE. I turn work acquaintances into cosmetic secret agents, visiting their pharmacies and department stores in classier suburbs than the ones I live close to. My mother in-sin is on the job too. A friend has got a sister who is travelling to the US, she’s on the case too. Even Saphora fails to deliver. And then one day in November I happen past the Myer counter and there it is, sold, to me.... the highest bidder.

I cradle that puppy home. It is my treasure. I wait for the right time to wear it, which in this case was not ten minutes from sale and applied on public transport. I walk home feeling fabulous, strangers are looking at me. I must look like someone straight out of the Great Gatsby. I am so fucking glamorous right now.

I am met at the door by my every loving de-facto and his puzzled eyes. He cannot take his eyes of my lips. I wait for him to say something but nothing comes. Ever more self conscious I finally fish for a compliment but it never comes. I come down from the lipstick induced high met with the realisation that I either look like a grandmother or a hooker. A dead hooker, really, because my skin is so washed out I have the glow of a woman that has been decomposing in the drought affected Yarra for three days.

Instead of looking the picture of fucking cool that I invested the sum of a good night out on, I invest all my cool points on looking like a badly drawn self portrait of Rosie the Riveter.

I’m fucking devo. I can’t do lipstick. It’s like the time I tried vintage clothing. I bought a $5 paisley shirt from the ‘80s. It smelled like moth balls, made me itch, and it took me 6 hours of searching the local op shops and fighting junkies for the stock on the racks. I was grossed out because I know all the nasty things I do in my clothes and that most of the time, rather than smell like OMO, my clothes smell like the leftover linger of stir fry and Herbal Essences.

I never remember when I am wearing a lipstick. I don’t ‘blot’ my napkin I ‘rub’ my napkin and then look like I have a cold sore. I always end up with a nice layer on my front teeth if I haven’t already donated it to my coffee cup. How does Gewn Stefani and her fan look a likes do it? I can only deduce that because they are shiny and photogenic they are one with the devil. Seriously, though, you look very pretty but fuck off and die. I’m sorry, maybe I’m overreacting. I’m sorry. I just know that you are more dignified than I am. I know that you cross your legs more than I do. I know that you charmingly stain your ceramic coffee cups and blow attractive kisses in pictures.

You can have your model portfolio like facebook album. I’ve graduated to Vaseline or Blistex or whatever. End rant.

Challenge: Just say it - Something that makes me happy

2011-02-23T16:43:00.002+11:00

Booking tickets for European adventures!

Challenge: Just say it - One thing I would like to say to a friend

2011-02-22T10:29:00.002+11:00

I don't think we like each other anymore.

Challenge: Just say it - One thing I would like to say about myself

2011-02-21T10:16:00.004+11:00

I'm hungry.

2011-02-18T12:51:00.004+11:00

This time last year...

2011-01-24T19:17:00.003+11:00

I'm walking home talking to myself. Talking to myself in my head about my day, how long it was, how much I gave to the company, how late it is. It's Friday night and I'm only getting off the train at half past seven. I got to work at quarter past nine but I was only away from my desk for fifteen minutes all day and reminding myself how hard I had worked this week. Talking about how much I'm giving and going over conversations with people who ask more from me. People who wonder if I'm fully committed, working to capacity, all that shit. Going back to those conversations and having them the way I would have if I didn't have to hold back. At the same time I'm conscious of the underlying feeling of a little loneliness. Familiar but distant. Working myself up a little. I'm oblivious to the man walking toward me until he yanks me out of myself with "hullo luv". He sounds straight out of Billy Elliot. Despite myself I smile contagiously at the man and giggle, he smiles back and we walk on.

I suddenly feel blessed, happy. He's made my day. I want to turn around and yell 'hey, you made my day' but I don't. I keep walking suddenly more aware, acutely aware of the path in front of me. I'm in the moment, right in the moment, here, present. I see a toddler in the nuddy by the gate of a house. Naked except for the brown sandles on her feet. There's fuss in the small front yard of the Victorian Terrace house. A man, presumably her father, drops to her sandled feet in front of her with a roll of toilet paper to set down beside her. He had run to be next to her and tripped over the small Jack Russel in his way. I hear the dog squeal and run away, to the distressed cries of another small girl, presumably his other daughter, "you hurt my pubby Daddy. You hurt my pubby". "I didn't hurt your puppy. No I didn't" he contests as he pulls at the toilet paper to wipe the shitty bottom of his naked daughter by the gate. Her bottom is covered in shit. I imagine the commotion the man has just experienced. Imagine his wife out with friends, or working late or at the shops. Imagine his hassle. I think of my problems. Minuscule in comparison.

Ever alert I cross the road by the house I call scary and almost step in a not long dead Sparrow with an eye hanging out of his face. Again, minuscule in comparison.

I come back to the thought of the loneliness and the day, the weeks and the conversations. Twice I've heard this week "you are so bright", "bright, my God. You are so bright". Christ; if they only knew what that meant. If I only knew what that meant. If any of us knew what that meant!

Back to the thought of the loneliness. The surprise of it. Am I lonely? If I'm lonely where would I rather be, who would I rather be with? All my great friends come to front of my mind, I'm no longer in the moment. I think of them all and then by surprise I'm swallowing the lump in my throat and holding back tears that threaten if not menace. I can't decide between them, can't pick one or a few to be with right now. I would have them all. I can't decide. I'm not lonely then. I'm blessed.

I want to be by myself. Enjoy the beauty of solitude until I'm sick of myself and need the company again.

I haven't told you...

2010-01-06T21:44:00.004+11:00

I have something terribly exciting to look forward to this year. Amongst weddings of good friends, 30th birthday celebrations (including my own), and an overseas trip... I am starting a part time acting course at NIDA.

The thing I am most looking forward to though is keeping to my NY resolutions. One of which is being a better friend to myself. I am going to be the friend that I am to others to ME and I have to say that I have found a new favourite friend.

Happy New Year All, I hope you find a new favourite friend this year as well.

If I could, then I would

2009-11-11T19:58:00.007+11:00

If I could, then I would change work hours.

Nothing makes more sense to me than being able to schedule my own life. I don't mind the actual work part but I wish I could decide where I spent 70% of my time.

And... I really believe that I would get more done, both personally and professionally.

Ahhhh, bliss.

2009-10-30T11:44:00.003+11:00

1. I am drinking red wine at the moment

2. I love the word bejeweled

3. I am working from home today because it's raining and I love rain

4. I've never read any Dickens

5. I am always distracted

6. I have blue eyes

7. Sometimes I call Nick Pickles, other times Biscuits

8. I live next door to a very sad young man who I sometimes hear crying

9. My other neighbours are professional dancers and are often touring

10. I once had an argument with David Campese

11. I love to read junk mail

12. I think I'm boring

13. I still smoke

14. I make a good Beef Rendang

15. I have a friend who was a heavyweight world champion cage fighter

15. My great-grandmother's name was Gladys

16. I have named a pair of pigeons that live out the back of my house Pidgy and Poo

17. Number 15 is a lie

18. I have a cat called Ninja, he's more like a dog

19. If I was rich I would buy a house on the Yarra and row to work. I would also have my bed made for me everyday with fresh sheets

21. I have a trophy named after me

22. I am hopeless at Maths

23. I am getting excited about having children

24. I wish I knew what I was good at

25. There are things I am not telling you

26. Pidgy and Poo are sitting side by side on the roof to keep warm in the rain. It melts me.

27. Nick is super fit right now, I am the opposite

28. I am afraid of the ocean

29. I always listen to "Gold Digger" in its entirety when it plays randomly on my iPod

30. I miss getting stoned

31. I wish I read more

32. I like staying in hotels

33. There is a Gnome and a white rabbit who live outside the Nursing Home that my Nan has just moved into

34. I have long showers and when I feel guilty about it I tell myself that I'm not water wasteful in other ways...

35. I think I have bad breath but I'm too afraid to ask someone

36. I used to go for drives and sing my favourite songs in the car. I don't anymore.

37. My first car was a $800 20-year-old Toyota Corolla

38. It ran for two months before he transmission died

39. I have never travelled farther than Asia

40. I think we'll buy a house before I get the chance to travel again while I'm young

41. I don't want that

42. Nick's parents drive me mad, and so does he when he's been around them

43. I climaxed the first time I had sex

44. I always wear polish on my toenails

45. I just ate a whole bag of chips

46. My hair is long and I'm thinking of chopping off

47. I miss my Nan

48. I think like a grumpy old woman, already

49. My last boyfriend and I were together for 5 years before we broke up

50. I secretly think about finding a large sum of money by the train tracks. I don't know if I'd hand it in

51. I pray

52. Where's my hovercraft?

53. I remember phone numbers of friends from high school

54. Strangers talk to me all the time

55. I dream about riding my bike above the ground, higher than rooftops, and I always see myself stopping at traffic light even though I'm in the air

56. I LOVE lollies

57. I have flashed a table at a restaurant. Not my proudest moment

58. I have a great imagination

59. I come from a very poor family

60. I think pomegranates are weird

61. I can't handle rude people

62. My Mother is immature

63. I am a very good friend

64. I will probably never work out what I want to do with my life

65. I cannot do cartwheels

66. I love hats, I carry them off well but I never where them

67. I wish I had studied Acting

67. I am often embarrassed to tell people that I Tap dance but I'm actually okay at it

68. I was due to be born on Christmas eve. I arrived a month early

69. I am terrible at pretending to be interested

70. I played the Cello in high school. I left my Cello on the bus and my lessons were cancelled after that

71. I'm going to bed after writing this

72. I am reading The Slap

73. This is fun to do but I'm not sure it will be fun to read

74. Cross words drive me crazy

75. I love humidity

76. The carpets matches the curtains

77. I am chubby

78. I love dirty Rock

79. I fantasize about running my own super house

80. I love to stretch but I often forget

81. I am going to swim a lot this Summer

2009-10-28T14:47:00.003+11:00

I’ve been so trapped in my own head recently that I have not been able to blog. Plenty of topics have popped into my mind but I have no motivation to write. I don’t even know if anyone reads Paddy Rabbit.

So, quick poll… tell me what you want to read. If I don’t get a reply Paddy Rabbit is closing down.

The Yeller

3 Months of Trouble

Random: having no specific pattern, purpose or objective

Letting Go

The Bladder Bully

Life's so good

2009-09-09T10:16:00.003+10:00

I'm always scared of saying this out loud for fear of jinxing everything and finding my life in pieces on the floor so I'm being quite brave; life's so good right now. This is not how I actually feel right now. I found this in my draft posts dated 09/09/09...

Successful Incumbent

2009-06-12T14:21:00.002+10:00

I got the job...

Dear Future Me

2009-06-11T13:47:00.005+10:00

So….five years on I assume that you are financial stable, witty at parties and have managed to lose those ten kilos you couldn’t move in your metabolically advantaged twenties. You can hold your drink, and no longer smoke – yeah you used to and it was gross. You’ve embraced the fact that you can’t dance to pop music and so you’ve stopped embarrassing yourself trying, you have finally given in and you’re wearing flats right now and you are now far too busy and important to sneak off for pedicures in your lunch hour (and if not important, you have better priorities).

I wonder what the future will hold for you. There are many things that I have pondered, least of which:

* Are boys still wearing their sister’s pants and are you still affronted by their tiny bum sitting over the top of the waistband
* Are girls still wearing tights as pants?
* Does Marieke Hardy still have a career in breakfast radio? If so, I’ll assume you’ve already dug your eyes out with a spoon or moved onto an Adult Contemporary station.

Anyway, I’m sending you this letter because I think my life will change quite soon. How do I know this? Well the past five years has been full of many trials culminating in your redundancy at Sensis (by now you’ve worked out that it happens to everyone and dealt with all of the unsolicited advice). As I write this I am trying to find you a job, a rewarding job that will get you back on the path that I paved thus far. And Nick, who is a blessing and a gift, I already love immeasurably but, by now you’ve probably cemented it and I expect that you are starting a family, a family of ginger kids (I tear up for you when I think about that - not the ginger bit)is about to go to Canada for the first time to fulfill his mountain biking dream.

I’m constantly thinking of ways to make life better for you, to make you “successful”, happy, whatever than entails. When I’m having a bad day, a bad week, a bad time of it – just believing that my actions today might make you happy somewhere, sometime, is what gets me through the day. The past is set but the future is free, and you live in that wild place.

I hope I’ll like who I’ve left you to become, and who you’ve chosen to be. It isn’t so easy to picture you existing outside of my mind, because you’ve always been the woman of my dreams. As my future self, you’re the most important person in my life, and yet we will never meet. Our paths will never cross, you know all my secrets but I will never know yours. When it comes to you, I can only trust. Trust you’ll have achieved a few of those things that we’ve always wanted, and they were worth all the effort.

I have faith that your life right now is very fulfilling and secure and that when you emerge from our past, Future Paddy, you will fly.

Love, me

Check this out - Read at Work

2009-06-03T12:51:00.002+10:00

http://www.readatwork.com/

Nothing to blog about

2009-06-03T12:41:00.002+10:00

Just letting you know that I have nothing to say at the moment. I haven't had anything to say for a couple of months. Nothing....

So I just wanted to let you know that I have nothing to say.

The Last Post

2009-03-22T22:13:00.002+11:00

I was about to delete the last post that I made but I won't. I'm going to keep it for a couple of weeks or so to have a benchmark for how I feel.

I would like to add that I was very drunk when I wrote my last post and I'm kind of proud of my ability to show some diplomacy even when inebriated.

I am feeling much better though and I expect that things are only going to get better as time goes by.

Stay tuned kiddos.

A Rat Shit Day

2009-03-20T00:12:00.003+11:00

So let me break it to you like this... I was made "redundant"today.

"Redundant" such an auspicious term. And my company, which shall remain nameless for fear of possible civil action to recover excessive and impending costs, deemed that they made an effort to "preserve employee self esteem".

So I wonder... if by "preserve employee self esteem" they mean current employees i.e. those that weren't axed then yes, some employees have some self esteem. But, if they actually mean, and with my only average I.Q then even I can ascertain, those employees that were axed today making them former employees, then no, I do not believe the they made a sincere effort of their part to "preserve employee blah blah blah".

This will come across as bitter, once again, but fuck me, I've made such an effort in this job and brought about some significant changes. I even got a promotion last week for the good job that I have done.

Fark.

What do I say. I don't have the words to describe how I feel right now.

Fuck them. Jeez.

A word from a tired Bridesmaid

2009-03-13T11:38:00.014+11:00

In three weeks I am playing bridesmaid for the third time. Once again the initial feeling of incredible honour has been replaced with the downtrodden feeling of a doormat.

If you have been around an anxious bride-to-be you know that it can be a little bit like tiptoeing through a mine field, constantly on edge, unsure of whether the next words out of your mouth are going to unleash a furious storm of rage that will leave you wondering why you ever thought calling her dress "a bit tight" was a good idea in the first place.

I have learned to keep any opinion to myself, unless it is complimentary (albeit a wee bit fake), and to prepare myself for frank and at most times rude criticism of myself. So far in my experience as a BM, it has been brought to my attention that I am a little on the hefty side, have too many freckles, could do with a good hair cut and I am, at times, attention seeking, "no offense".

If I hear one more statement that begins, "no offense, but...." I think I just might resign. Seriously the bride needs to get a grip, unfortunately as excited as we all are about her impending nuptials, we don't give half as much of a shit about the invitations or the table decorations as she does. And, I hate to say it but, I seem to be the only one who still has a grip on what this wedding is about. Or maybe I've missed the point, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe weddings are about 12 months of your life where you can be a forthright and obnoxious bitch who get's her way by the permit of "no offense, but...." .

Ouch.

Forgive me, but here is where I'm coming from. I've known this couple for nearly ten years and they are among my favourite people. I love that they've asked me to join them at their wedding. The thing is though that my mate who I've always had so much fun with and have admired for being practical and down to earth has been replaced by the afore mentioned bitch. This is costing me coin too; a significant amount and I don't even get to go on a holiday at the end of it. Rather I get the pleasure of my ex boyfriend's company though out the wedding (yes he's a groomsman).

Reading back what I've written I can hear your reaction. Pull out; resign graciously, if your heart's not in it.... I can't. I know on the day, when the pressure is off, I'll have my mate back and we will all have a day like no other. I think that I'm penning this as a reminder to myself of what not to become and what not to put my mates through.

I can't wait to share my day with friends and family (clearly - weddings/engagements are a common thread in my blog). The thought that I would subject my friends to feelings of inadequacy and resentment towards me tortures me. I don’t want them to see me that way so I hope that I can loosen the grip on the details and keep a grip on what the marriage actually means to me, regardless if I asked for Ivory yet received off-Shite (that was a typo but I’m leaving it there) table covers.

Old Friends

2009-02-17T09:29:00.001+11:00

This year, my second in Melbourne, has brought about many fortuitous re ignitions of old friendships. Friends who I once knew who've been living another life overseas and have popped past to see me lately. Tonight I caught up with my best friend from high school, seven years since I saw her last. We've kept in contact but we live very different lives so tonight I was quite nervous about our meeting.

I'm not going to say it was a breezy reunion, it wasn't but, it was lovely. The truth is that she challenges me, she has differing opinions of our country and our culture and a very different experience of the world since we left school. So much so that sometimes I feel inadequate. However we share a history, an understanding, as wanky as it sounds. She, to me, is the side of me that other people find hard to understand or like, and I love her.

I remember when she left Adelaide, we were in year 11 and she decided to move out and to Sydney, I said goodbye to her at the bus station and I cried when I got home. Tonight, when I ran through the catch up details with Nick, I cried again. I can't explain it, as she's never seen this side of me, but I really fucking miss her.

Donate Blood

2009-02-08T23:40:00.002+11:00

If you live in Australia and you are able to, please give blood this week. Victoria has suffered their worst bush fires in history and there are other fires out of control around the country.

Please give blood and help burns victims http://www.donateblood.com.au/ .

Did you know that 1 in 3 people will need a blood transfusion and only 1 in 30 donate?

Interview with me!

2009-01-29T22:26:00.004+11:00

Yep that's right, someone interviewed me for their podcast. Apparently I am a "mountain bike socialite" which I don't agree with however this is me on the waves.

I haven't listened to it and I was very nervous so please don't think less of me if I come across as a complete git.

I hope it's worth listening to.... http://www.farkin.net/forums/showthread.php?t=155837

.sites.

2009-01-29T13:28:00.008+11:00

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard. It made me feel.

http://www.bookcrossing.com/

Book crossing is place where you can share books by sending them on a "journey". The idea is that you "release" a book (i.e. leave one some where) and provide "release notes" both inside the book and on the website. It's brilliant both for those who release the book, giving them the ability to track it's journey, and for the person who finds the released book.

Ninja

2009-01-27T15:27:00.004+11:00

This is my guy Ninja.

Nick and I took him to Adelaide with us over the Christmas break and here he is talking to me in the car. The photo might look a little dramatic but he was quite happy and he looked like he was smiling.

I love him!

I call Amnesty on Frontlining

2009-01-15T09:41:00.005+11:00

I am supporter of Amnesty International and a former volunteer. I believe in the work that they do and when they speak up I listen. Honest to god though, I am sick of running the gauntlet every morning through chirpy, yellow t-shirt clad 21 year olds scrambling for my cash.

This morning I simply said "No, leave me alone", to the stick that bounced in front of me and then I felt guilty. Guilty for maybe hurting her feelings, guilty for not choosing my words more carefully, guilty for not politely saying "excuse me but I'm not interested today. Have a nice day". And now I'm ranting about it because I don't think I should feel guilty and I don't think I should continue to be polite to the person that I've politely passed by three days in a row.

It's such a shame because Amnesty International are such a valuable organisation.

A Question and Answer with Lynley

2009-01-10T00:40:00.003+11:00

What do you eat for breakfast in the morning?
I don't eat breakfast. Just drink coffee on the way to the Salt Mine.

Do you have hairy armpits?
Sometimes, I get lazy especially in winter. It's my fur coat.

Chips or chocolate?
Chocolate, chocolatey goodness. It hits your belly it makes you feel good.

What music are you ashamed to admit you like?
Eighties glam rock, but who don't? But, I do like the Backstreet Boys. Come on. Four boys; in the back street! Maria gets a mention too.

Who would leave your husband for?
Jarrod Leno, or Brad Pitt in '94, when he had the long hair. Weird Al would get a go too.

Do sad films make you cry?
No, I'm hard, I'm from the west. We don't cry. We tip some gin to our homies, we walk on.

Do you go commando?
No, no.... always prepared. Prepared for anything, a clean pair of underwear is what Mum always said.

Back again

2009-01-07T12:34:00.004+11:00

So I'm back after two weeks of Sundays, too much food and drink and a fantastic time.

I had a fantastically busy break and it was so nice to go home and see everyone. Three engagements and two pregnancies were announced while we were there so it was really nice to see everyone happy; albeit a little bit frightening that everyone is growing up. And now I’m back in Melbourne ready for 2009 with two new years’ resolutions. The first is to work hard and ignore the politics, directed at me or not. This is just a job and it affords the wonderful life that I have. The second is to celebrate more and whinge less. I love a good rant and I'm sure that won't change (I might add that despite my seaming grumpy during many blogs I am not always this way) but I forget to rant about the great as well.

So expect a bit more from me in 2009. My blog is likely to take a much needed new focus, you'll be hearing more about my travels and adventures and my new love(s)....

Happy New Year everyone!

Why lie?

2008-12-15T18:36:00.004+11:00

I, like most people, have a git in my office. A middle aged man in middle management, career ambitious with no skill or charisma to back it up. The man is a twerp and he manages to ruin any potential for the team to operate effectively. I've never heard an original thought spoken from his mouth, a strategy or plan, just rules, crap and drool. He micro manages, he reads people's computer screens, looks over shoulders, listens in to conversations and bitches about other staff and management.

Today I copped the brunt of it. I was late to work, regrettably, I slept in and it's the last week before Christmas and I'm well an truly past giving a f*ck. That's my issue and I accept it. However, what I don't need is this scrawny little putz running to my manager to tell her that I left early last Friday (with her permission might I add) and then circulating rumors that I have no work to do because he always sees me on Facebook.

I just about spat out my P.K when I heard this one. The little f*ck. I rarely check my FB at work and when I do it's very quick and usually around lunch time or after hours. I wouldn't care so much if he was a peer but he's a manager and he gets away with slagging people off. I've heard him do it a number of times about other people but now that's turned to me it's infuriating.

Shit sticks and he should be better than that. I feel like punching him. He really brings out violence in me.

So anyway I'm blogging all this not because I think you'll be interested but because I'm so friggn mad. If you have any advice I would really appreciate it, but spare me the "don't worry about it" because I'm really pissed off. Little shit, he can't keep getting away with it!

A very happy birthday

2008-11-30T00:36:00.003+11:00

I turned 28 on Monday and oh my giddy aunt was it a great birthday.

N planned a surprise for me. I knew that I had a surprise coming but I had not a clue what to expect. I had visions of hot air balloon rides, rally car driving and even (with the help of a few expectant friends) a significant jewelery giving. I was so off the mark!

On Friday night I was treated to dinner and cocktails at Prahan's 'Borscht Vodka and Tears' and then we returned to our nest. We got inside, set down our stuff, fed the cat and then the door bell rang. After some argie bargie over who would answer the door I eventually opened the door to my dear friend K. I was so shocked! I eventually let her in and crowned her with smiles, hugs and beer. I was frigg'n delighted. Then the door bell went again and there was her partner and one of our dearest friends J. The surprise just got better.

So after a few beers I find out that N and my surprise guests had a weekend of events planned for me to look forward to.

In a nut shell we went away for the weekend and I was treated to, amongst other things, a facial, a massage, boutique beer , wonderful food and company.

I can't describe how much this meant to me. What a lovely guy and what great friends hey? I am a pretty lucky lady.

I so know I can dance!

2008-11-30T00:24:00.002+11:00

Okay firstly apologies to my loyal readers for the lengthy delay since my last insightful post. Forgive me, I have been focused on rehearsals for "Legs Eleven" the Glamour Puss Studios end of year extravaganza. Tonight concluded our three show only bill and I am on what is described in the biz as on a "post show high".

Today consisted of a matinee and an evening performance to, might I proclaim, the most friendly and vocal audience ever. I felt completely comfortable strutting my show girl stuff, missed steps and all, to this very welcoming and forgiving crowd. In terms of technique, timing and accuracy this was not my best performance, far from it in fact, however it was the most fun. The nerves subsided and I was all teeth and tits. The only two of the three T's of tapping that I know.

I posted earlier in the year about my renewed love for tap but as any good relationship does my love as grown. More than then, more than yesterday, more than this afternoon. Becoming a Glamour Puss is the best thing that I have done and I love it soooooooooooo much.

I hope to have some photos soon.

A happy hit spring knock stamp to you all!

The Wrong Job

2008-10-30T08:48:00.003+11:00

I've known it for a while, more than a while, but yesterday confirmed it; I'm in the wrong job! A very last minute tap on the shoulder yesterday morning and I was appointed facilitator for a four hour team workshop and, sweetheart, I shone! I don't know what I'm going to facilitate or for whom but all I know is I need to be one. I'm a natural. I'm rooooly good at it.

Did I mention how good I was?

Four Years!!!

2008-10-22T12:51:00.000+11:00

Today. Wow...where have they gone?

+1 New Friend Request

2008-09-11T16:05:00.004+10:00

So an old friend, well a current friend's ex girlfriend, sent me a FB friend request which I ignored. She has since sent me two messages each time appearing a little more desperate to mend the rift and find answers to why I don't want to be in contact any more. How do you say to someone - I just don't want you in my life?

I've grown up so much in the last two years. It all started when The Biscuit dumped The Rabbit (they got back together of course) and then at around the same time my three closest friends each broke hearts and became single again (not for very long I might add). This experience marked for me just how special these girls are and how I had evolved emotionally. The way that I coped was very different to the way I didn't cope when my previous relationship vaporised. Furthermore, my friendships with the girls got more intense and as we re-evaluated every aspect of our lives we renewed the fact that we really cared about each other and that was as good as love can get. I love these girls and I'll be with them forever - like a friendship marriage.

Then a year ago the Biscuit and the Rabbit not only changed post codes but area codes as well, leaving all their fellow 5000'ders behind in search of better work opportunities. And oddly enough my new job and the move left me all ass about. My "better work opportunity" was just about the worst job I've ever had and instead of making me feel empowered and successful I fell into a self-conscious and self-destructive wreck of myself. + 12 Kilos later and an ever growing dread of going to work each day I decided to make some changes in my life. And I've been making a sincere effort on that front with a few successes to be proud of.

I had to ask my self what do I really want? And the very simple, yet universal answer is that I want to be happy and until about two months ago I wasn't happy. A big step in the direction of happiness was changing jobs and lightening up a little but of course there's still more that I want.

Deep down the cause of my unhappiness since the post code change was not just my shitty job, it came down to loneliness. I miss my friends. I miss my Nan. I miss the passion I used to have, even though that has been missing for a long time. I miss having a purpose in life, even if that purpose was only the team that I coached or meeting my friends for a drink after work. I miss having something to dream of. I feel like in all the growing up I've down over the last 2 years I have lost all of that and it all makes me feel lonely. I'm harder, smarter, less patient, more cynical, tired, fed up, bitchy. And to be honest, in no mood to patch up broken hearts.

I know who I miss and I miss them every day. I know that I have made some pretty big sacrifices to live with the Biscuit and chase more money. We know what we have to do to get to where we want to be, the balance between the life we had and the life we are yet to afford. We know that means a few more years of loneliness. So while I'm living the sacrifice I don't want to waste time trying to reconnect with someone that quite frankly I was glad to see the back of.

All the growing has made me realise that before the post code change I had worked really hard at getting things right in my life. And they were almost just that, right. The Rabbit and the Biscuit worked out that they needed to be together to be happy. My friends, through all the break ups and hook ups found relationship harmony and were happier. We were all happier as a consequence. My routine was all right, my relationships all right but work was very wrong, so enter post code 3000. I've already blah d blahd about what went wrong there and now I'm here and I'll be damned if after all the change, all the growing, all the sacrifice that I just flirt with a superficial FB friendship.

But I still dont know, as smart and as mature as I am, how to tell someone, sorry but you're better off missing from my life.

Goodbye

2008-08-28T14:08:00.001+10:00

Goodbye David Martin. It's shame we have no photos to remember you by. RIP.

To Do:

2008-08-21T11:32:00.001+10:00

Washing washing on the line

Washing washing there's no time

To do the things I have to do

And still have time to be in love with you

Give Amy the Flick

2008-07-21T09:03:00.007+10:00

Is it just me or are the whiny tones of Todd's girl in the car insurance ad like nails down a blackboard?"Am I getting through to you, Todd?" she asks, holding up a cheap - price no objection - diamond ring, and looking as coy as a crocodile. More grating is the ad's sad reminder that even in the 21st century there are women out there waiting, waiting, waiting for their partners to propose. I just don't get it. I thought we'd won the feminist wars and it was now a given that women and men were equals, give or take a bit of armed combat in war zones. Look around and you see smashed glass ceilings, girls doing better than boys in education and househusbands at play group. Strong, feisty female role models abound. Our deputy PM is a woman, a woman heads one of the big banks and there are even female bishops. Oprah rules. Yet here in 2008 we have young women passively letting the men in their lives have all that power over their futures. Well, passively-aggressively letting them, if the car insurance ad is anything to go by.

Sure, it's just an ad, however, I work for an ad agency and let me tell you this company knows more about you, your likes, dislikes, household disposable income and spending preferences than you probably know about yourself. This ad is not a drop in the ocean, it has been shot for a market-researched audience of bargain-hunting car-binglers. What's more, flick through the advice columns in the mags and you'll see the same old refrain. "We've been together a number of years and my family wonder why he hasn't proposed to me. They worry I'm wasting my 30s on him." Grrrr. Get a backbone, girl. If you want to get married, ask him to marry you. If he says no, live with it or leave and find a man who's the marrying kind.

For goodness' sake, it's your life we're talking about. You're the only one who should be at the controls. Surely deciding whether to get married should be like deciding on any other big decision in a relationship, whether it's buying a house or deciding to have a baby. It doesn't matter who thinks of the idea first. Either one of you can float the idea and then you can both work out, as a couple, what to do next. Imagine if men had to passively wait for a woman for the woman to let them know when it was time to have a child? What about if they had to wait around until the woman in their life decided it was time to buy a house? So how come people seem to think it's OK for women to have to sit around and wait for a man to ask them to marry them?

I thought women and men had realised that the whole idea of a proposal dates back to when a woman was her father's property, along with the house, the cows, the chickens and mum. A man had to ask the father if he could marry the daughter because he was asking for something that belonged to the household. Yuck. Its one thing keeping bits of the tradition - like getting your dad to walk you down the aisle - but it's another to let a man still be deciding your future.

OK friends, I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering if I’m going walk the walk, when I am going to propose. Well maybe I will and maybe I won’t. I’m in no rush and for some that’s hard to understand. I had a drink with a friend recently who asked me how long my partner and I had been together and proceeded to impart her wisdom on how she managed to finally get a proposal out of her man. She shared with me the title of a book which set out some rules that she followed closely and suggested I do the same. The conversation ended when she told me that if she were me she would have provided an ultimatum by now. Errrr. Gross.

Rest assured that if and when I do feel the need I will pop the question, straight up. I would be ashamed of myself if I'd stood there holding a cheap engagement ring and hinting, winking and pleading. If I did, I suspect he would turn me down. My partner is no Todd. And Todd shouldn't be one, either.

Twirls

2008-06-30T15:06:00.000+10:00

I'm fricken addicted to them

Slow Wave

2008-05-26T15:51:00.004+10:00

An ex boyfriend of mine used to get really frustrated when I told him about my dreams. In fact it might have been the reason he broke up with me. He used to say that the only good thing about me relaying my dreams was that it was quite funny watching me work when I really didn't have to. So, okay, he wasn't the nicest person I've ever met but many people will agree that nothing is more boring than listening to another person talk about the dream he had last night. Truth be told that unless you can keep your dream story down to under a minute, I'm not really interested either. My own dreams; facinating. Yours; not so much.

With this in mind, you would assume, a comic that is nothing but an account of a stranger's dream should be the most uninteresting comic in the universe. And yet it isn't...

Whilst cruising the internet, in an effort to break my habitual checking of Facebook, I came across artist Jesse Reklaw who turns people's dreams into four-panel comics on the Internet. They have no coherent story line and no punch lines. If you read only one, you would probably scratch your head and wonder what he was smoking. But if you read several it feels like accessing the dream part of your brain while being awake. It's the strangest sensation. Check it out.

http://www.slowwave.com/index.php

Youth in Asia

2008-05-21T11:19:00.002+10:00

Yesterday I had a conversation with my 83 year old Grandmother who was wondering whether or not there was any worth in her preparing a will. We, as a family, have recently broached the subject of moving into a retirement villiage but Nan will have none of it. This is a woman who, when she turned 81, asked me if I would take her shopping for some Anti-Ageing skin care as she thought "it was time she starting looking after her skin".

This got me thinking about my own mortality. When I was a little girl I firmly beleived that by my old age there would be a pill to see me to 110. It seems to me that medical science is progressing so quickly I have a good shot at reaching 140.

My imagination took me further. What will happen when medical science can keep almost anyone alive indefinitely, albeit looking like a peach that has been left in the sun for a month? Isn’t it inevitable that assisted suicide will be legal?

There’s no way the global economic system can keep several billion people alive over the age of 100. And if we assume most of those people can vote, and most of them will want at least the option of checking out early, then legalised assisted suicide is a near certainty.

The people over a hundred will want it, and the young people who wish the old people were dead so it would free up resources will want it too. There’s your majority right there. In the short term, assisted suicide only needs to be legal in one country that has a good airport. Just fly in, let the doctor kill you, and go home in an urn.

Is it inevitable?

2008-05-11T20:59:00.001+10:00

Two weeks to go...

Enough Gordon for Chanel 9

2008-05-08T10:27:00.003+10:00

Channel 9.... I get it. Gordon Ramsay has been a blessing for your station's ratings – but enough is enough. Three nights a week – and in a row, no less – is too much of an ear bashing for this little petal.

You raised my hopes this year Channel 9, with a couple of pay TV favourites far removed from the cracking viewing pair Bargain Hunt and Antique Road show, and have provided more entertainment that I have come to expect from your usually tiresome and bland programming. Tuesday night had become part of my television ritual, setting the recorder for a fun evening of Gordon’s shock tactics followed by the even more shocking hit Ladette to Lady. But now that I can see Gordon on Tuesday, Wednesday AND Thursday nights, I’m starting to get sick of him. Worse still, I’m starting to loathe the man.

Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares is funny, Kitchen Nightmares USA even funnier. The altruistic nature of the show, juxtaposed to Gordon's ego is nice viewing, despite the bullying tactics of the show's star. But, what is with him on Hell’s Kitchen? Why is he being so mean? I know it's only Television but ultimately he decides on an image he is happy to portray. In last night's episode a table of paying customers enquired as to the status of their order. They'd been waiting for two and half hours and Gordon told them to "fuck off". Is this the image he really wants to portray and if so, for what end?

Gordon's military style break em down build em up form of management is something that I have experienced working in a restaurant. It's an unfortunate fact that good chefs develop magnificent egos which eventuate into giant arseholes. I'm not sure why, after all they are only cooking food.

I can no longer watch a program based on the premise of disrespect, insults and “hell”. I feel as though I am condoning the ingrained bullying that I experienced.

There is no entertainment in seeing Ramsay spit out someone’s food, call them names, then shove a plate of their food into their chest and rant and rave and swear about a blind mice being able to cook better. Then at the end of the show, kicking one of the branded hapless fools out.

We’re meant to be a progressive society that has banished bullying from our workplaces and communities. Why should we call it entertainment just because it’s on TV?

I mean really...what's the point?

2008-04-28T11:00:00.003+10:00

I've just spent the last three days in Sydney with my adorable friends Kirsten and Christie. After three fun filled days combining trips to Manly and vast portions of meat and beer consumed at Darling Harbour my digestive system might be a tad unhappy but otherwise I feel great. Strange thing is that I had so much fun with them that I feel sad today - I'll really miss them. I've felt so strung out lately and have been truly horrible to myself that catching up with my best mates was the tonic that I required.

I moved to Melbourne to have more to do and be more challenged at work because I thought that would make me happier. The truth is that I've been miserable since I got there, I hate my job and miss my friends. So what's the point?

Some time between now and next Friday I intend to resign.... I can hardly contain my excitement. I can't see the point in being this unhappy for a moment longer. Wish me luck!

2008-04-15T14:37:00.002+10:00

Someone said to me recently that the secret to a happy life is retaining your childhood enthusiasm and I couldn't agree more. Since moving to Melbourne eight months ago, I revisit my childhood each Tuesday night at Glamour Puss Studios. Not as raunchy as the name would suggest but, definitely fabulous, Glamour Puss Studios are 60's style tapping palaces filled with retro glamour and kooky kitsch. It has to be said... I'm in love.

Today is Tuesday and tonight I'll be tapping my little toes off and smiling my freckles off as I learn new steps and forget myself, and the world for about an hour. I wish you could join me.