A lot has happened since I last blogged. I started a new job, which I quickly realised was the start of a new career (because I don't ever want to leave). I got the loan and insurance approved for my very new car, coming in a few glorious weeks. James and I made the very exciting decision to shack up together when our leases run out next month. Shaun celebrated his first birthday. The Age emailed me with the news they want to publish my article. AND I stumbled upon this sticker in the movie theatre toilet:
'When stub roll finished, push leaver to left for large roll supply'
There is so much I have to say about this.
1 - It's shocking grammar. Really? 'when stub roll finished...' Who talks like that?
2 - Does the leaver push to the right?
3 - How do I know when the stub roll is finished? I mean, what are the signs? I think I need more information.
4 - I'm not sure how the smaller roll feels about being called 'stub' while the larger roll gets called 'large'. Seems very sizest.
5 - It's parading as a sentence, capital letter at the beginning, nouns and verbs and all, but they didn't bother with the full stop. Who does? They're totally overrated
My loyal followers will remember an early blog I posted about instructions on toilet roll holders, and the premise that being told to do something, sometimes makes you want to go and do the opposite. Previously, my toilet roll had instructed me to 'use this roll first', so in an act of total rebellion, I used the other roll.
However, if I'm to rebell against this new instruction in my life, there are too many options to chose from.
For example:
a - I don't wait for the stub roll to finish, I push the lever to the left anyway.
b - When the stub roll is finished, I don't push the lever at all. I leave it for the next person to do - because that's the kind of inconsiderate girl I am.
c - I complete option 'a' and use the large roll supply.
d - I grab a whole handful, run it under the tap, scrunch it and throw it on the ceiling.
I have a confession to make. I was a suck up at school. In fact, I'd probably dob on you.
I never, ever in my life have wet toilet paper, scrunched it up and thrown it at the ceiling. But I promise, if my movie wasn't about to start, reading that damn bossy sign on a toilet roll holder, would have changed who I am.
Don't tell my new bosses. I really love my job.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
on the hunt
This week I very suddenly lost my job. I was hard at work 10pm Sunday night, 10am Monday morning it was all over. No more pub. No more Ted. No more Sunday penalty rates. No more knock-off drinks. The official story (if you can call it that) is some kind of landlord/tenant/insurance company botch up but we all know that when a pub like The Grand View Hotel shuts its doors its very unlikely they will re-open at all.
Which is sad. Because that makes this the end of an era.
When I started at the GV, I felt I was finally in the job I was born for. I loved the people I worked with, I loved the regulars. I loved the way I could make someones day better so quickly and easily; by pulling them a beer, or asking how their day was and waiting for their response. The money was good, I pretty much set my own hours and I got to have a chef prepared vegetarian delight 4 nights a week.
Like all dreams, I had to wake from it. My fabulous manager, and BFF Steve, left me, and was never replaced. And a bar without a manager is madness. My friends moved out from upstairs, the chef moved on, the beer stopped flowing and eventually most of my regulars stopped coming in.
And (as I learned the hard way) a job with zero security isn't worth all the perks in the world.
So now I'm on the hunt, for the next job I was born for. If any of you would like to make this all a lot easier for me, and offer to publish my book, or convert my blog into a weekly column, I'd be forever grateful. But reality says I must work, at least for a little longer. And working is so boring.
I think that crisis I didn't have when I turned 26 is happening now. I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do. All I know is it has to be fabulous. So no pressure.
So my darling followers, this week I offer you no advice. No life lessons. This week I'm confused and overwhelmed and a little stressed. And really glad I have a savings account. And really glad I didn't buy a new car last week (I was this close)
Anyone with a fabulous idea hit me up. I'm all ears.
Your friend. (With a lot more time on her hands)
Which is sad. Because that makes this the end of an era.
When I started at the GV, I felt I was finally in the job I was born for. I loved the people I worked with, I loved the regulars. I loved the way I could make someones day better so quickly and easily; by pulling them a beer, or asking how their day was and waiting for their response. The money was good, I pretty much set my own hours and I got to have a chef prepared vegetarian delight 4 nights a week.
Like all dreams, I had to wake from it. My fabulous manager, and BFF Steve, left me, and was never replaced. And a bar without a manager is madness. My friends moved out from upstairs, the chef moved on, the beer stopped flowing and eventually most of my regulars stopped coming in.
And (as I learned the hard way) a job with zero security isn't worth all the perks in the world.
So now I'm on the hunt, for the next job I was born for. If any of you would like to make this all a lot easier for me, and offer to publish my book, or convert my blog into a weekly column, I'd be forever grateful. But reality says I must work, at least for a little longer. And working is so boring.
I think that crisis I didn't have when I turned 26 is happening now. I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do. All I know is it has to be fabulous. So no pressure.
So my darling followers, this week I offer you no advice. No life lessons. This week I'm confused and overwhelmed and a little stressed. And really glad I have a savings account. And really glad I didn't buy a new car last week (I was this close)
Anyone with a fabulous idea hit me up. I'm all ears.
Your friend. (With a lot more time on her hands)
Monday, February 21, 2011
all of me
This weekend I witnessed the pain of failing love; the moment in my friends eyes when they realised that love isn't enough. The moment they realised you can't love enough, can't love the way you want to, because it isn't there.
I write about love a lot. I'm a hopeless romantic for love. I believe in love. I want to see love overcome all. But sometimes it doesn't.
I believe the reason love fails is because its all consuming, or its nothing. To love something you need to love all of something. You can't love nachos if you don't love cheese. You can't love Melbourne if you don't love the rain. You can't love the beach if you don't love sand.
And you can't love a person if you don't love everything about them.
Passion will sustain love for so long, so will excitement, companionship, joy, adventure. But love will leave if you don't accept the person for who they are completely. Accept, and cherish. Accept, and celebrate.
It takes a long time to find all of someone. To discover the small things, the things that make you smile, the things that make you cringe. I've had James in my life for three years now, and I'm still finding all of him, and he's still finding all of me.
When you find something new, love changes. It increases, or it goes away. But it can't stay the same, because in love's eyes, you've changed. There is something more to know, and you can't un-know it.
Once you've heard somebody say something, you can't un-hear it. Once you've seen someone do something, you can't un-see it. But once you've felt something, you can un-feel it.
Love will leave, and when it does, it's because it wasn't there for all of you. And a love that doesn't love all of you, isn't the love you want.
Because that love will come, and it will stay. Because it can't leave. It's yours.
I write about love a lot. I'm a hopeless romantic for love. I believe in love. I want to see love overcome all. But sometimes it doesn't.
I believe the reason love fails is because its all consuming, or its nothing. To love something you need to love all of something. You can't love nachos if you don't love cheese. You can't love Melbourne if you don't love the rain. You can't love the beach if you don't love sand.
And you can't love a person if you don't love everything about them.
Passion will sustain love for so long, so will excitement, companionship, joy, adventure. But love will leave if you don't accept the person for who they are completely. Accept, and cherish. Accept, and celebrate.
It takes a long time to find all of someone. To discover the small things, the things that make you smile, the things that make you cringe. I've had James in my life for three years now, and I'm still finding all of him, and he's still finding all of me.
When you find something new, love changes. It increases, or it goes away. But it can't stay the same, because in love's eyes, you've changed. There is something more to know, and you can't un-know it.
Once you've heard somebody say something, you can't un-hear it. Once you've seen someone do something, you can't un-see it. But once you've felt something, you can un-feel it.
Love will leave, and when it does, it's because it wasn't there for all of you. And a love that doesn't love all of you, isn't the love you want.
Because that love will come, and it will stay. Because it can't leave. It's yours.
Monday, January 31, 2011
life
I’m finding myself at an age where all my peers are convinced this is as good as it gets. We’re twenty-somethings; and it’s all down hill from here. In fact – it's so down hill you might as well top yourself when you get to sixty.
This is a thought I’m struggling to fathom. Last week I went and visited my ninety year-old Grandfather who has recently been moved into a ‘facility’. My darling Grandpa, or GP as I call him, is in picture perfect health. He looks exactly the same as he did when he was seventy (except for a minor upper-middle-age spread) and he’s still as charming as pie. The problem is that his dementia has advanced to a stage where my family are no longer able to care for him. GP doesn’t understand this, as ‘he’s been looking after himself for the last one hundred years’, but he hasn’t. He’s been under the full-time supervision of my aunt for the last ten, and the part-time supervision of my father and I the five years before that. He doesn’t understand why he is in care, especially in a facility with such ‘nutters’.
This is what's fabulous: my GP is so unaware of his condition, he’s ‘looking after’ the ladies he’s living with. He’s making the most of everyday, and what he forgets... doesn’t hurt him.
I understand why some of my peers may see this as a lack of quality of life – but I think they are wrong.
How truly amazing, to be looked after everyday, and still live a life whereby you feel useful. Besides, isn’t that what we all want? To feel needed?
I work at a local pub, and have the privilege a few times a week of seating a gentleman named ‘Ted’ down for dinner. Ted has been coming to the pub for ‘over forty years’. He always tries something new on the menu.
I assumed Ted was in his sixties, maybe seventies, but I was wrong. One quiet night I had the honour of sitting with Ted as he waited for his meal. Ted is ninety-four years old and lives alone, since his wife passed. He eats out most nights of the week, and has recently taken up photography. He has entered his photos in numerous competitions, and travels the country as a competition winner. When I asked him how enjoyed living alone he told me he was thinking of moving somewhere else, because ‘sometimes, he’s sick of making his own breakfast’.
I believe life is a gift. I believe every day is as precious as the last. And if someday, for some reason we find ourselves unable to make our own breakfast, instead of feeling that it’s all over, perhaps we could celebrate the fact that someone is prepared to make it for us.
Sure, being a twenty-something is great. We have the world at our feet, decisions to make, children (or puppies) to parent. But is this really as good as it gets?
Maybe a slower, more peaceful, more reflective life is one to be yearned for, aspired to, instead of feared. Maybe this isn’t as good as it gets. Maybe, it just keeps getting better. And then you die.
This is a thought I’m struggling to fathom. Last week I went and visited my ninety year-old Grandfather who has recently been moved into a ‘facility’. My darling Grandpa, or GP as I call him, is in picture perfect health. He looks exactly the same as he did when he was seventy (except for a minor upper-middle-age spread) and he’s still as charming as pie. The problem is that his dementia has advanced to a stage where my family are no longer able to care for him. GP doesn’t understand this, as ‘he’s been looking after himself for the last one hundred years’, but he hasn’t. He’s been under the full-time supervision of my aunt for the last ten, and the part-time supervision of my father and I the five years before that. He doesn’t understand why he is in care, especially in a facility with such ‘nutters’.
This is what's fabulous: my GP is so unaware of his condition, he’s ‘looking after’ the ladies he’s living with. He’s making the most of everyday, and what he forgets... doesn’t hurt him.
I understand why some of my peers may see this as a lack of quality of life – but I think they are wrong.
How truly amazing, to be looked after everyday, and still live a life whereby you feel useful. Besides, isn’t that what we all want? To feel needed?
I work at a local pub, and have the privilege a few times a week of seating a gentleman named ‘Ted’ down for dinner. Ted has been coming to the pub for ‘over forty years’. He always tries something new on the menu.
I assumed Ted was in his sixties, maybe seventies, but I was wrong. One quiet night I had the honour of sitting with Ted as he waited for his meal. Ted is ninety-four years old and lives alone, since his wife passed. He eats out most nights of the week, and has recently taken up photography. He has entered his photos in numerous competitions, and travels the country as a competition winner. When I asked him how enjoyed living alone he told me he was thinking of moving somewhere else, because ‘sometimes, he’s sick of making his own breakfast’.
I believe life is a gift. I believe every day is as precious as the last. And if someday, for some reason we find ourselves unable to make our own breakfast, instead of feeling that it’s all over, perhaps we could celebrate the fact that someone is prepared to make it for us.
Sure, being a twenty-something is great. We have the world at our feet, decisions to make, children (or puppies) to parent. But is this really as good as it gets?
Maybe a slower, more peaceful, more reflective life is one to be yearned for, aspired to, instead of feared. Maybe this isn’t as good as it gets. Maybe, it just keeps getting better. And then you die.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
How to turn 26 with grace.
For the first year of my adult life I'm not approaching my birthday with the cliche 'I'm so old' groan.
22... that's SO old.
23... that's SOO old.
24... that's SOOO old.
I think 26 is going to be great. I'm old enough to know that "what am I doing with my life?" really means shit.
do you know what my goals were for my 25th year were when I was 18?
- ride a motorbike
- have made my first million
and my goals for my 18th when I was 15?
- get married
- have kids
- save the world
my goals for this year are simple:
- be happy
- spread happiness
I cringe at the things I thought were important. Money, status, celebrity.
My 25th year was sensational. It humbled me, inspired me, and challenged me.
I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't failed every one of my previous goals. And there's nowhere else I want to be than right here, right now.
- for the record, right here is my gorgeous home in Brunswick I share with 2 of the best friends I have ever had and 2 delicious puppies who wake me up every day with a smile. I'm waiting for my incredible man, James to get ready so we can go to a party with our fabulous friends and typing on my shiny new macbook pro I was able to afford when I started my own business, 6 weeks ago - doesn't sound too shabby, right?
So to all of you out there dreading your next birthday and regret not achieving your so called goals... ask yourself this: Am I happy? If the answer is yes, have a happy birthday. If the answer is not yet, be happy you've got another year to get it right.
and besides, I still get asked for ID.
22... that's SO old.
23... that's SOO old.
24... that's SOOO old.
I think 26 is going to be great. I'm old enough to know that "what am I doing with my life?" really means shit.
do you know what my goals were for my 25th year were when I was 18?
- ride a motorbike
- have made my first million
and my goals for my 18th when I was 15?
- get married
- have kids
- save the world
my goals for this year are simple:
- be happy
- spread happiness
I cringe at the things I thought were important. Money, status, celebrity.
My 25th year was sensational. It humbled me, inspired me, and challenged me.
I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't failed every one of my previous goals. And there's nowhere else I want to be than right here, right now.
- for the record, right here is my gorgeous home in Brunswick I share with 2 of the best friends I have ever had and 2 delicious puppies who wake me up every day with a smile. I'm waiting for my incredible man, James to get ready so we can go to a party with our fabulous friends and typing on my shiny new macbook pro I was able to afford when I started my own business, 6 weeks ago - doesn't sound too shabby, right?
So to all of you out there dreading your next birthday and regret not achieving your so called goals... ask yourself this: Am I happy? If the answer is yes, have a happy birthday. If the answer is not yet, be happy you've got another year to get it right.
and besides, I still get asked for ID.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Raising Shaun
Things I've learned in 2010, courtesy of one young Beagleier
(...and a few others)
1 - Life is better shared with someone you love.
2 - A good diet and lots of exercise makes you happy, healthy and better company.
3 - Sometimes you know what's better for someone than they do (eg. onions).
4 - Sometimes they don't care (eg. cake).
5 - When you love someone, you never give up on them. You never judge them. You're never ashamed of them them. You just want to hug them.
6 - Unconditional love takes you away from work, away from your own problems, and makes you be a better person.
7 - Family is precious and should never be taken for granted, or abused.
8 - It takes quality time to build a special relationship. Time, and a lot of patience.
9 - A new puppy might move in next door and steal your heart for a minute, but true love always finds its way back home.
10 - Life is better shared with someone you love.
Best thing I've learned in 2010? Love. Find the right person (or puppy) and love them with everything you can. Choose love every day. It makes you a better person, and makes the world a better place.
So my New Years Day message is simple: Fall in love in 2011. Fall in love for the first time, or fall in love all over again.
And to the boy who truly changed my life, James, thanks for loving me. You make me better.
(...and a few others)
1 - Life is better shared with someone you love.
2 - A good diet and lots of exercise makes you happy, healthy and better company.
3 - Sometimes you know what's better for someone than they do (eg. onions).
4 - Sometimes they don't care (eg. cake).
5 - When you love someone, you never give up on them. You never judge them. You're never ashamed of them them. You just want to hug them.
6 - Unconditional love takes you away from work, away from your own problems, and makes you be a better person.
7 - Family is precious and should never be taken for granted, or abused.
8 - It takes quality time to build a special relationship. Time, and a lot of patience.
9 - A new puppy might move in next door and steal your heart for a minute, but true love always finds its way back home.
10 - Life is better shared with someone you love.
Best thing I've learned in 2010? Love. Find the right person (or puppy) and love them with everything you can. Choose love every day. It makes you a better person, and makes the world a better place.
So my New Years Day message is simple: Fall in love in 2011. Fall in love for the first time, or fall in love all over again.
And to the boy who truly changed my life, James, thanks for loving me. You make me better.