I'm sorry I wasn't good enough

I wonder if I wasn't there for you - if I wasn't actively involved in your life. I didn't appreciate your memories, your adventures, your witty one-liners. Your opinion on politics, on current affairs.

Maybe I was too quiet. I didn't say enough, didn't respond enough. I wasn't excited enough about your dinner plans, your new job, the movie you went and saw. Maybe I didn't listen when you complained about the traffic, didn't offer enough support in regards to your noisy neighbours. Maybe I forgot your birthday.

Facebook friend 689, I'll miss you. And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that the events leading up to my deletion were so severe you didn't feel you could simply remove me from your feed - you had to remove me from your profile all together. I'm sorry you were no longer interested in the latest photos of my dog, my most recent holiday, my constant links to animal welfare organisations. I'm sorry if I didn't update my status enough - if I updated too often. I'm sorry if my check-ins made you want to smash your iPhone on the ground in a jealous rage because I was doing the locomotion with @Lainey Fitzpatrick and @Will Tremayne and you were home alone watching The Big Bang Theory.

Maybe it wasn't even about me. Maybe you're so hipster you simply have to keep your numbers down, you can't have too many friends. Maybe you deleted me because I am a Facebook junkie, and my decision to add @Akmar Ramasavarga from Turkey offended you. I'm sorry I thought my non-rejection of him, a man who has never done anything wrong by me that I am aware of, would be more offensive to you than my blatant disregard to the very definition of the term 'friend'.

Mostly I'm sorry I don't know who you are. But I'll miss you. Because now I'll likely never get to 700 friends.

Last Monday I attended a book launch where the guest speaker, Ray "my hero" Mooney, told a story I can't forget. He was speaking about a friend of his who had recently passed away, but in the weeks leading up to his death had taken the chance to reflect upon the world. He said to Ray, as the two old friends stood by the Yarra River, "It's a wonderful world we live in when we have to invent a God to explain the things we can't understand".

The launch was for "The People Are Revolting", and I was lucky enough to have a small piece added to the collection of some stunning works on the topic of revolutions. I wrote simply of my personal revolution, my emancipation from the pentecostal church, aged 23. It's a topic Ray and I have talked about before, but it was the words of his late friend that on this night that spoke to me so clearly.

The issue isn't whether or not we believe in God, whether science and evolution disprove an existence, whether bat sonar points to creation. The issue, at it's core, is what a wonderful world we live in.

My issues with a God created world began when I lost a dear friend. There was no man made reason for his death, it wasn't the result of free will, or choices. He died, aged 22, from leukemia. I had two choices, either God could have cured my friend from his illness, but He chose not to, or He couldn't - and what else couldn't God do that He said he could? Either way, I knew the former wasn't a God I wanted to serve anymore. So I began looking for the latter God - the one who created the world and everything in it - but couldn't control what happens to it after that point.

But I found so many problems in a created world, the idea that it was purposed and left to fail, broke my resolve. I gave up looking for answers - and started enjoying the world for what it is - flaws and all. And I can't encourage you enough to do the same.

A created world suggests every thing is available for our benefit - the trees, animals - all given as a gift from God for us. A wonderful world is something to be cherished, appreciated, nurtured. "We must bear in mind that we belong to nature, we are born in nature and have to work with nature in order to live life to the full with plenty of health and vitality"(Source unknown/I forgot - it's still good tho, right?).

I don't know what I believe in, but I know that whatever we think we know, however high up on the food chain we think we are, Mother Nature can still kick our asses. So maybe we should pay for our carbon.

When you're busy making plans

Last week I had the rug swept from under me. The plans that I'd been so happily making over the last few months were stolen in a moment.

It happens all the time, of course. 99% of our lives are outside of our control. We share this world with people, with mother nature, and we get very little that we can control.

They're the things I like to focus on, obviously. I can control my values, my behaviours. I choose what to eat, how to look after my body (albeit determined to some extent by the outside factors; finance, time...). I choose what type of person I want to be, what kind of employee, friend, partner, mother I want to be seen as.

That's great and all; but it's not enough to build a life for yourself - and so you let other people in. You plan holidays, you share houses, you form relationships that offer you the things you can't do by yourself. You trust. You hope. You cross your fingers and pray for the best.

And when the worst happens? You breathe. You scream. You curse. You shake it off. And you make new plans. Because that's what we do - and what we do best.

I didn't ever imagine being a single 26 year old girl with a puppy and a lease and a car I can't afford on my own. But I'm here. And I'm making plans again.

I'm making new plans; the kind of fun, spontaneous plans only a single girl can make. Plans for travel, for adventure. And if some dashing, ruggard and athletic man comes and pulls the rug from under those plans - well then I'll just have to make new ones again.

I rarely look back to my church days fondly, but there is one scripture I remember and think of often. It's in the book of Jeremiah (chapter 29, for anyone that would like to look it up). God told Jeremiah to build homes, and plan to stay. To plant trees and eat the fruit they produce. To marry and have children. The great thing about this story, is that Babylon, where Jeremiah was living at the time, was later destroyed. And assuming God would have known this in advance (that's the theory remember) he still told Jeremiah to knuckle down and make plans.

I think of this often - a gal that's moved as many times as I have still has to find a way to feel at home. So I always plan to stay. Even when I know I likely won't. I plant things in the garden, I make the effort to 'finish' decorating the house. I make sure that wherever I am, is home. Whoever I am with, is family.

The other thing I'm thinking about at the moment, is the plans that got lost before you made these last lot of plans. What did you have to sacrifice in order to make room for your new plans? What can you put back on your list of 'things to do'?

John Lennon says 'Life is what happens when your busy making plans.' But I disagree. I think life is what happens when your plans turn to shit, and you look around, see where you are, and realise there's still plenty of places you can go.

And that's my thought for this week.

Farmers Market

This morning I attended my second ever farmers market. Since becoming a girl-of-the-burbs, there's one just around the corner every month. YAY!

Or so I thought. Here's a summary of my experience:

- Buying from the farmers market is insanely expensive. How so? Aren't we 'cutting out the middle man' so to speak?

- For some reason, it's not until you've gotten home and looked at what your fifty bucks got you that you even pay attention to the $7.50 loaf of olive bread or $6.00 roasted garlic dip

- People are much more courteous/forgiving of prams (Charlotte, month one) than beagles (Shaun, month two)

- A super excited, happy dog is great at the beach or fully enclosed dog park. Not at the petting zoo, or orange juice stand

- Shaun fucking loves rabbits

Honestly, I blame James for making me go alone. That extra pair of hands would have meant I didn't have to hand my wallet to the farmer to get my money himself because I was busy holding down a squealing puppy.

But here's my thought. Is the 'farmers market' just another one of those things that seems so much better in theory than it is in practise?

Like house-parties where you drink cheap alcohol on an empty stomach, get stuck talking to a loud, drunk acquaintance and miss the last train home. Or wedding ceremonies that photograph beautifully, make great memories, but really are boring and awkward the entire time. Or family christmas?

As I get older (that's old-er, not old) I'm becoming more and more attached to the things I enjoy, not the things I'm supposed to enjoy. Quiet Saturday nights at home watching The West Wing. Lunch dates in the park eating noodles out of a box. Drinking one glass of really nice wine (instead to numerous plastic cups of the cask variety).

It's been a contentious issue in our home of late. But I've decided I'm happy to be 'boring' because I'm never bored when I've got Alison Janney for company, and if I'm out of bed at 11pm at night, something has gone horribly wrong.

Olive bread for lunch anyone? It had better be delicious.

For the record

Tonight I finally snapped. I lost my temper at the radio.

You know what? I don't care if your opinion is different from mine, but have the decency to be honest about your motives, and the simple common courtesy to allow others the freedom to make their own.

The way I see it, there are three answers people give in relation to whether gay marriage should be legalised.

1 - Sure, why the hell not?
2 - I don't care what they do, but do they have to call it marriage?
3 - No. Marriage is between a man and a woman.

Number 1 is answered by 90% of Gen Y, and a growing number of Aussies. Even the liberals oppose a "Nanny state" declaring that if it doesn't hurt anyone else you should have the right to make your own choices (irony?).

For anyone in category 2, this is why: because it's about equality. Having the right to make the same choices as straight couples. If you can make the choice for yourself whether or not to marry, why shouldn't gay people be entitled to the same basic freedom?

Now this is when my blood starts to boil. When people say a 'traditional' marriage is between a man and a woman and should remain so. Why? Because like it or not, Australia was founded on Christian principals and our government doesn't have the balls to declare enough is enough.

If you believe that homosexuality is a sin, and in legalising marriage we are sinning, say so, and say it proudly. Don't hide your beliefs behind 'traditional values' and 'family ideals'. Have the guts to stand for what you believe in.

Tonight a Christian male called up the radio to discuss his views. He said that he'd been thinking a lot about marriage and what it meant because he was getting married in two weeks. He believed marriage was both a union between Christ and the church and a union between a man and a woman and placing God's covering over their relationship.

The journalist asked the man if he felt if gay marriage was legalised it would remove God's covering from his marriage.

'Of course not.'

So what's the problem?

I know a few gay couples, and none who would request the covering of God over their mariage anyway, so that's okay, the Christians can keep that.

James and I have made the decision to remain un-married until gay marriage is legalised. Why should we have rights denied to our friends? How can we be expected to raise our children with values of equality and acceptance when we continue to behave like homophobic rednecks?

It's time to grow up, Australia. And you don't like gay marriage, great. Don't get gay married.

Giraffes are the new Paris - A life shared in status updates

Five weeks ago I set myself the challenge to go one whole month without Facebook, twitter or Blogspot. I wanted to measure just how much of an important element it had become in my life, so as well as July without social media, I gave up three big loves: dairy, caffeine and alcohol.

Today I report on my findings.

My initial hypothesis was that as a good vegetarian girl, my biggest sense of loss would come from cheese. I was so wrong. Not to be misunderstood, dairy was the hardest vice to give up in that it was all around me. Day 1 I accidentally ate the little chocolate that came with my decaf-tea. Week 3 I brought spinach and ricotta tortellini for a quick dinner. One morning in week 2 I was running late and grabbed James' up'n'go from the fridge. But it wasn't the vice I craved the most.

I spent most of 2010 under the influence of alcohol. Back to full-time study with a part-time job in a pub and no car... You do the math. But since shacking up with the boy we hardly drink at all. James only drinks when he parties, and I don't really do that. = Easy.

Now caffeine is a vice for two reasons, sure the obvious one is coffee, but rest assured a soy hot chocolate is a pretty fine substitute. But Diet Coke has been my crutch for forever. I tried caffiene free Diet-Coke week 1 (don't) and it nearly made me ill. After that I settled for sparkling apple and soda water with lime. Not too hard.

From day 1, my biggest challenge was the overwhelming need to 'check' something. I'd get to work in the morning, put the kettle on, open my inbox and it was there, haunting me. The question that never left my head, the entire 31 days: What's happening? I learned I could quiet this desire with The Australian, The Age and abc.net.au, followed later in the month by Steve's suggestion, Time.com. Before I knew it, I'd developed a second addiction; current affairs. I figure, hey, better to know what's going on in the world than what my old high school chums are having for dinner.

So i survived it. But isn't the biggest lesson I learned.

At some point in the last two years, I have stopped thinking like a normal person, and started thinking about events in my life as status updates. Constantly, I'd hear something, or have some good news, or something stupid would happen and I'd think of a witty one-liner in which to relay such information to my extended network.

And when I didn't get to post a status update, I felt ripped off. Not only for myself, but for everyone else who missed out on my pure genius.



Where to from here?

I'm not going to reinstall the Facebook app on my iPhone. I have access to the internet at home and at work. That'll do. But I did realise that Facebook wasn't the reason I can't walk down the street without playing with my phone. My phone is. So I'm trying to leave it behind more often.

I've accepted Facebook does have a place in my life. I freaked out when James and I had 2 weeks to sell our Splendor tickets and 600+ potential buyers I was ignoring for 2.5 more weeks. WHOOPS! Luckily James knows my password. Thanks baby.

I'm happy not eating as much cheese, or drinking as much alcohol or coffee, and I've given up Diet Coke.

Next challenge; a month without bread and sugar. Because a detox hardly feels like a detox at all when it includes olive sourdough bread with hummus and raspberry licorice. But that can be a month down the track. I owe Anna and Harry a belated Xmas in July.

I can't encourage you all enough to do the same; if not for a month, then a week, and if not for a week, try a day. Remember what life was like before it all got so instant.

PS Hi Matt.