Twas the Night Before Christmas

...and I had a wax and bought pricey but effective skin creams with nearly the very last of my money. Then I ran into two homeless people who have become somewhat friends.

Back in August when I was the proud possessor of a Gold Double Pass to an Independent Cinema, a homeless man approached me after I'd just walked out from a film with the BOI. He was after spare change or donations; begging by any other name. I asked him whether he'd like cinema tickets instead, he was delighted and so I walked straight back to the box office and 'purchased' two tickets to the film of his choice: "Mongol". He was very sweet and wanted to confirm that I didn't have to pay for the tickets, as what he really needed was to scratch together $48 to stay in a rooming house that night. I said it was ok and that I didn't have to pay for the tickets. He requested a seat in the middle of the theatre, ostensibly he hadn't been to the cinema in many years. When the tickets were in his hands he bounded off to the back of Borders bookstore - I wondered whether he had a friend to give the second ticket to or whether he was to entrepreneurially on-sell them. That was a Wednesday night. I felt pleased that i'd finally used my Gold Cinema pass powers for good, I'd wanted to do it for ages as many people beg around that cinema's foyer.

A few days later, 8-10km south of the cinema on the other side of town, I ran into this poor sweet man again. He was sitting on the pavement and looking up at passers by, asking for spare change. I said to him "do you remember me? I gave you the cinema tickets the other night". He was extremely gracious and thankful and said that his girlfriend made him change the tickets to see "Sex and The City". The film wasn't his cup of tea but it was still terrific to go to the cinema. Apparently the box office staff were "really good about swapping the tickets". I was rapt by having bumped into him and said I had the cinema pass so I would do it again if we saw each other near the cinema.

Some months later I ran into him outside the cinema again - this time we introduced ourselves formally; his name is Jack. He didn't feel like going to the cinema that time, though I was trying to max-out the pass' potential and give him more tickets. He explained how he was trying to save up for a bond as the rooming house was overpriced and not an ideal way to live.

Tonight on Christmas eve Jack was sitting outside Dan Murphy's, on the pavement, asking folks for money. I was on the mobile phone when I passed him and he didn't see me anyway. I was asking a friend what kind of alcohol and gourmet nibbles I should take to Christmas lunch. Happily, when I left the supermarket (economic rationalism kicked in and I bought mango juice instead of grog), Jack was still in the same posi, and his girlfriend was now sitting next to him. He recognised my face but I had to clarify our acquaintance, his girlfriend was delighted to meet me, as I was her and she re-told how they swapped the tickets for "Sex and The City". Her name is Jessica and she was charming, albeit smoking a cigarette (some people wear it well).

Once again they were piecing together $48. I was able to contribute $4 only (shouldn't have got that wax.... yes I should have). The rooming house is near where I live. $48 a night or $170 for the week. They explained it was a tiny room with a mattress on the floor and complimentary cockroaches. Jack and Jessica have the promise of a housing commission flat to move into within a few weeks, right near the cinema. I really hope it works out for them. They are lovely people and I want to get to know them better.

Having such encounters quells my preoccupation with men and self-interests. The VTL (very tall lawyer) stayed last night. He thrillingly pursued a dinner-date with me only days after our Friday night fling. I haven't heard from him today and already the anxiety is rising. What if I've been rejected? What do I feel about him anyway? I was much more attracted to him than I expected. Celibacy is perhaps a safer place to live, now that I've broken the love-making drought, I just want more, it's like an alcoholic accidentally taking brandy butter with the pudding. Christmas day is in the way, he's going to his folks place, I'm off on a mini road trip, taking with me my lust and curiosity for this new and rather interesting man. A problem is that I don't entirely trust myself. Alot of men would probably charm me right now and I'd kiss the majority of them. Why do I want the future to reveal itself so urgently? When I get there I'm sure I will have wanted to make the most of every moment and relive whatever ones were the best; sunbake on the island of time. So for now, on the night before Christmas, I shall not fret about whether he will call or not. I shall revel in my horizontality and enjoy the first Christmas eve night I've ever spent alone. I'm happy about it. Merry Christmas.

Simple Pleasures

I just read a wonderful story on the fabulous BBC news site which is my home page. Ah! It makes the heart swell with warm fuzzies - that's what life's about, non?

I love riding my bike on summer nights, even when I have no money. As long as I could swim everyday, I think i'd cope being homeless or worse off.

I need to find confidence in myself that is not the result of approval from friends, men or career moves. Where do I find such confidence? I feel better about things today, probably because I shagged a very friendly man last night. Not my type at all but I'm prepared to forge a friendship. Me and my thirty-something female friends are like cavewomen, needing to throw a man on the bed (or be thrown on one), just to ward off insanity. It's ridiculous and puts one at the mercy of male behaviour and Venus Lady Traps, as per the previous few posts. But it is a much needed confidence boost. I'm on a hunt to find confidence in other places and forms - a tidy house? Healthy plants? Swimming? It's a complete mystery to me how one can attain self-esteem that is reasonably solid without gold star stamps being received. What would I do if no-one liked me? What is wrong with deriving confidence from the effect you have on others anyway? What is confidence? Let us open the handy dictionary. In this usage the definition is:

"a feeling of self-assurance arising from one's appreciation of one's own abilities or qualities" and the origin is late Middle English : from Latin confidentia, from confidere ‘have full trust’.

So I need to trust myself, that's sounding a little more attainable. I will sleep on it and trust in myself that I will tackle my domestic chaos on the morrow.

Venus Fly Trap

Recapping the last post, I was lured into a Venus Lady Trap by the FF over the weekend (with a year of so of warm-up to the anti-climax). I have forgiven myself (believe it or not... regardless, watch this space). He's a pussy-tease my friends have decided and I've lost respect for him. He may be the sweetest guy on planet earth with just some pathological flirtation problem, but he has alot of uphill work to do to redeem himself.

For less trivial topics and last minute Christmas gifts that give twice, check out: http://www.bicyclesforhumanity.com/donate

Ho ho ho I have decided to no longer be a ho!

Collecting Tears

I'm thinking of collecting my tears and using them to water my plants. I had a pretty crazy weekend. Went to the Meredith Music Festival. The muddiest, wettest of festivals. The FF flirted with me as always and like never before. Friends and acquaintances seriously questioned whether we were a couple. We laughed it off and yet he put his arm around me in response and commented that "we look like a good couple, don't we?". I ran into the EX and met his new girlfriend. Went well, like an excellent foreign diplomacy meet - we should have even shook hands for the cameras. Took too many drugs of the kind I never take. I ignored the festival handbook and took a mixture of drugs in a short period of time. I confronted the FF at dawn and was rejected. He didn't want to cross the line of friendship. Un-fucking-believable-humiliating-confidence-wrecking-mess-in-the-brain. It could have been worse. I didn't touch him or try to kiss him in the moment of rejection. It could have been worse but I still feel very bad.

Brought the psychology appointment forward - off to see her very shortly - lie me down, cut me open and lobotomise me please. Another thing that is weighing heavily on me is the knowledge that some friends' relationship is about to explode apart. He is conducting an affair with someone too controversial. I feel like I will be betraying my friend if I don't do something. If I was her and my long-term partner's affair was known to my friends before me - I would feel humiliated that no one told me. It is not my place to tell her but I have emailed the unfaithful guy and asked to speak with him asap. At least they're evidence that being in a relationship isn't always the holy grail. I am feeling nauseous at the idea that I may never find a man worth loving. I am feeling a failure for not being able to make my dear soulmate EX happy. We took the best and the worst years of each others' lives.

Time to go, lobotomy appointment required.

things change

I ought to remember that. My mood dived through the floor today after finding out I didn't get a job I really wanted. I didn't totally crumble (for what it's worth) and am feeling a bit better having been for a swim. However the mirror at the pool brought back the inhibitions and I'm not so convinced I'm ready to fall in love anymore... or rather scared that I'm not ready. My career's not sorted, my confidence isn't sorted...

A Little Cry

a little cry, for a long gone relationship
a little cry, at the emailed words 'my lady'
a little cry, unexpected and perhaps oversensitive
a little cry, for a good love gone wrong
a little cry, at the possibility of a loveless future
a little cry, automatic and uncontrollable
a little cry, because it's not fair
a little cry, because I still can't get over it
a little cry, for 8 wasted years
a little cry, because I might feel better for it
a little cry, I am sorry for myself
a little cry, I'll never meet someone new if I still cry like this
a little cry, from my magic pudding of sadness
a little cry and I'll feel better
a little cry and it's gone

Just another post

The B.O.I maybe be a P.K. (potential knob).

I am learning some wisdom from the Dalai Lama's Art of Happiness. Quell fear and anxiety by connecting with my sincere motivation for doing or wanting whatever the fear is about. This has helped alot. I want to be of service and use my brain to its best capacity - is there any harm in that? No, so there should be no fear. Thanks Mr Charming Wise Tibetan Man.

A friend who reads my blog delicately advised that I am too preoccupied and reliant on others liking me. This is probably true. I don't want to make a bad impression, who does? My confidence wavers. It's not necessarily always connected to others' approval, but often so. Surely I'll get better with age, like extra sharp parmesan? Or is it too late? Going to bed the other night after an evening feeling disconnected from my friends, I thought about how and when I will be able to stop taking the anti-depressants i've been on for the bigger part of 7 years. Before I find a new soulmate? I'm sure I could comedically explain my need to take the medication but what kind of impression or concern would that give a potential suitor? Alarm bells probably. Unless he's got some weird interest in pharmaceuticals for the brain. A nice little lab boy perhaps. Or a fellow depressive? That scenario was both the beauty and the beast of the last relationship (THE relationship).

Righto, signing off purely because my computer is dominating my days and I have the domestic habits of a slug when my Cancerian nature predisposes otherwise.

Grumpy

I don't know what's wrong with me. I went to the kinesiologist last week and came out feeling like $635 bucks (awesome for me). Last few days I've been grizzly, people have annoyed me, I've lost all my confidence (again). I am also paranoid that people don't like me, including some of my best friends. It's a weird time. I am thinking of tricking myself into doing some laps at the pool tonight. I am thinking that no man (that I like) will ever be interested in me. I'll never be able to afford a car, nor a house. I won't be able to have children. I am doomed. Blah, blah fucking blah. Someone i am working with (my mentor), described herself as an optimist. I am a pessimist through and through, although I don't know why. Genetic? Smoking too much pot as a young adult? Irrational career choices? True insight into reality that everyone else is oblivious to? I don't know, might start smoking pot again...

On a positive and more healthy note, I found salvation on the dancefloor on Sunday night after working all weekend. I am thinking of lining up a house-swap with a Maldivian climate change refugee. Happy to go under via rising sea levels rather than via my own pessimism.

Checking In

Touching base about yoga. Going well, no remarkable results yet but it is truly amazing that I'm getting addicted to my 10 sloppy minutes of practice each morning. Hoping to attain yogic 'perfection' by the age 71.

Checking in about crises of confidences. I'm now having a crisis about my newfound confidence!! Well isn't that just something?! I have a belly of confidence building up about my career and how I will be in my element directing TV drama - but with this unfamiliar confidence comes the fear demon. I want to apologise to the people I expressed my enthusiasm and confidence to today. Sorry for being an arrogant upstart. This is why I'm blogging really, to get this off my chest/brain/heart.

I'm tired. Domestic chaos ensues, as does unfulfilled randiness. I crossed the line flirting on Saturday night. Another deed for the apology inbox. Me and President Obama have got a lot of shit to fix up. I can't relax in my current state and be cool with how things are, or can I? How would Obama tackle his to-do list? Hire a motherfucking big team? I don't have a team, or do I? I have alot of wonderful friends and supporters who keep my spirits up (or egg me on?!). I need to bring out the mini-me(s) and give them all a tab of ecstasy and a few lines of cocaine, then I would say: "Go get em kids!! clean that house, jump on that boy, grab that career opportunity, complete all those unfinished tasks, do some pilates, learn French, bleach hair, accumulate savings, go forth mini-me(s) - divide and conquer all my yearnings!!!".

So much easier to blog and pour a glass of mango juice.

Goodnight and good luck.

Oogling

Oogling is the new googling (interesting that googling doesn't compute as an unknown or misspelt word but oogling does). Let me tell you about oogling. I am blogging now to prevent myself sending photos to friends of the most beautiful man on the planet I hunted down via googling activity. That's shameless oogling. Don't know why I've just been overpowered by that BMP I met last night - he is unavailable and even that's not stopping me. I am a cavewoman needing to procreate with someone gorgeous. Biological instinct. Pity I'm not perfect. I was discussing with a friend at lunch today what a different experience of the world drop dead gorgeous people must have. After a while they must cotton on to the vibe that most people desire them; surely that causes some uneasiness and confusion - but do they long to be plain? I doubt it. In an attempt towards perfection I will prematurely abort this post and get up off my arse to do the washing up. I had a new year's resolution to do the dishes every night no matter the quantity and believe it or not I still have some zest for this resolution, perhaps because I did 6 days worth of dishes on Sunday. This beast needs to mate with someone of a better gene pool for the good of the human race... but do I even want children? No, I just want a summer fling.

Yoga

I want to develop a committed home ashtanga yoga practice. It's been a bit of a fantasy, but if I take yesterday and today's
unglamorous and brief attempts - I may actually be on my way to such dreamy discipline. I had a good day yesterday, people were nicer to me, I was calmer and less paranoid - and I put it down to the fact I did 10 minutes of yoga in the morning. So, I decided to test the theory and do the same again this morning. I do a teeny weeny piece of the of the primary series, the equivalent of dipping a toe into the water in a triathlon... but it's a start and I feel better for it. 

Last night I met possibly the most beautiful man on the planet. I believe we endeared ourselves to each other and I was still reeling even after I found out he had a girlfriend... she must just be a floozy... anyways, it's a timely new flirtation and obsession, as the BOI hasn't contacted me - and I believe he's been BIT for at least 2 days!! Unbelievable and yet believable. More time for personal metamorphosis I guess.    

Big Sleep, Strange Dream

I just had a 12 hour sleep. Was a little broken. Fantasised about shagging around the time I maybe should've got up, but went back to sleep. I had a crazy extended dream that my ex-partner and I had some kind of free-for-all verbal encounter and I found out that he wrote a personal essay about the demise of our relationship in a street magazine (before we even broke up). I was finding out about this over a year later and frantically googling the name of the mag (which I didn't quite catch - Stoush, Stose..) and trying to dig up the past and traumatise myself. What all this means I don't know, but it's the first dream I've had in ages. Off now to deal in the physical world with an earthquake of dirty dishes and a volcano of clothes (both dirty and clean - no apartheid system in my wardrobe on the floor). 

BTW I think the BOI is BIT (back in town). 

Another Freak-Out

They don't like me. I said the wrong thing. I'm a suck. I better suck eggs. When will I accept that I'm a failure? Something in me is still fighting for it. Keeping me awake at night. Stopping me jumping off bridges, limiting sleeping tablets to sensible doses. Modern thought and therapy says accept unhappy feelings and take valued direction. Alrighty then.  I want my life and thoughts simplified, purified, I want to fall through a sieve. I want to be a mermaid, or maybe a simple fish would be better; less likely to have personality crises or existential issues. Tomorrow I will live like a fish and swim through the day. I feel like I'm constantly letting myself down.

Unhinged

Boozy. Could email BOI at anytime. Blogging is a way for me to not do as such. Could tell him by virtue of the ever small world, I ended up having a business discussion with his ex today. I could provoke him with such information and tell him I am open to shagging him again. It's all a ridiculous game. I am on my way out of house for a catch-up with my ex; aka the boy with bad lungs. 

I wish I could have a more mature outlook and not use my trivial lustful encounters as conversational sport. I wish I wasn't blatantly aware of the fact he's overseas and returns to Oz in about a week. I admit I am expecting something upon his return. I really have to leave the ball in his court and accept the possibility of it bouncing and rolling away into the bushes... to be forgotten.  

Desperate, randy, nearly 30 years of age and playing games with love, desire and interpersonal communication; that's me to a tee. 

Poverty

Believe it or not this post is not about me; well, less so than usual. Yesterday was blog action day and although it would be good to write about things more important than myself every time I post, today is the day to start. 

In my last post I blatantly and ironically complained about a lack of money and assets and the self-loathing that has resulted. However, let me undermine my own writing: I am fine and live in fantastic conditions compared to those in developing countries. I am typing on my own laptop computer. I can afford (just) to rent my own inner-city apartment. I work and aspire to work in the entertainment industry, a non-essential and frivolous business. 

Anyways, enough about me - lets heed the call to "make poverty history". With the global financial crisis I've heard a lot about 'investor confidence' and seen vox-pops with the average Joe Smith voicing that they're not sure about stock-market investments anymore, it's put the fear in them. Well why not invest in something more tangible? Even marginally alleviating the poverty of just one person? 

I don't want to get all soapy on the soap box but I invite you to ponder poverty today and would be pleased to hear your responses on how the world can be a more fair and happier place for all. 

Please take note of updated links, in particular the Bicycles for Humanity Project - it needs monetary donations as well as friendly bikes. Bicycles have been a vehicle of freedom since their inception, so this is a delightfully practical and transparent way to help those suffering poverty. Spread the word!

Crisis of Confidence

I've supposedly had a breakthrough in my career. Something I arguably should have done several years ago. Yet, when the going gets good, the brain turns bad. Crisis of confidence. Thoughts of failure, doom, poverty... being publicly confronted about my delusion of career prospects. Money is a depression trigger for me. I have none (again). Hating myself for having got into such a fiscal poo again. My friend said at the time of the last flip-out that I needed to remove the triggers that set me off. She was referring to my ex-partner and I have certainly acted on that advice and am having far less contact with him and am feeling better for it (also helps that I have BOI on the brain and am devising ways to seduce him and contemplating whether the feeling is mutual or not). Regarding triggers, a lack of money or useful assets (such as a car or shoes or a digital camera) inevitably sets me off. I have to prevent this happening. It's ridiculous. But at this point in time I can do very little about it. I need to make a list of things to think about or do when my mind takes a dive. My Mum said it's a choice and I just need to stop thinking such negative thoughts. Thanks to my whizzbang computer (things to be grateful for #43) Mum had the dubious bonus of witnessing my despair via webcam. However, after a coincidental phonecall (no webcam) from an unwavering supporter, I am feeling better in this moment. 

A Slow Burn or a Fucking Disaster?

I caught up with the BOI tonight. I can't tell whether he's being gentlemanly and shy or whether he's not interested in me. Why not shag someone like me I ask? Come on, take your pants off and kiss my neck. All I need is a pick me up. I sent a mildly suggestive text message to him earlier this week to set the tone. Now I've put my pyjamas on and got my "Happy Tunes" playlist as company. I'm not going to be defeated by you. I don't know how to convert an opportunity into a shag. I'm there for the taking and you didn't take me. Another day, week, month in celibacy. A vow of patience I need to take. When I look at it objectively I think it's not about me wanting him so badly that I can't live without him, it's more that I am testing myself to see how I weigh in on the desirability scale.... I'm not doing that well so far as I can tell. Is this acquaintance slowly evolving and developing into a love and exploding passion that I will find all worthwhile when it finally happens? Or is it a dismal failure and I don't realise it? 

Part of me wants to cry and dwell in the 'rejection' and part of me wants to curl up in bed triumphantly content. What are the pros of no shag tonight? I can't think of any. What are the cons of no shag tonight? The feeling of not being wanted aka rejected. A ripped off libido. Slight pro is an early night or no so late a night... it's 1140pm. I can read the weekend paper I haven't read yet. I can go to bed happy. For some reason I don't actually feel sad or rejected.. maybe I'm just living life. I can cultivate a happy single life, somehow it feels like a compromise but it's worth doing in case the love of my life has some unfortunate accident and I'm left on my own again. Biological instincts be damned. I am a modern human who can get through cavewoman urges with her clothes still on. 

It's a confusing modern situation to be getting to know someone who you've already shagged and being preoccupied wondering if it's going to happen again or not. Take me back to the 1930s, or at least the 1960s. 

A Positive Post

I've been feeling alot better. My challenge of being nice to myself continues, but it's not proving that difficult. I've shunned guilt and self-criticism. I'm still grappling with my overcommitment but i'm living a day at a time and even dabbling in some yoga at home. However, before you think that i've become perfect overnight.. i've been sleeping in, overeating and taking way too long to lock off my showreel... so what? I don't believe i signed up for any kind of perfect-human-challenge at birth.  

First Diagrammatic Post

A Challenge

I've decided to challenge myself to a day or a week or more of being kind to myself. No guilt. No self-loathing. No harsh criticisms even if it seems i deserve them. This seems ridiculous but it came to me as a good idea worth trying. Already i feel not quite myself thinking about such behaviour. I feel like i want to start life all over again, but instead i'll just be deliriously nice to myself. Watch this space.

Nice Day For A Sulk

Avoidance of necessary, overdue tasks.

Nausea at ex-partner's new romance.

Pep-talk from the rejected fuck-buddy.

The desire to cry. The new therapy i've learnt is to find the physical location of the feeling and breathe into it. The feeling is behind my eyes. They swell and make me think of reasons i want to cry. I'm listening to Belle & Sebastian.

My ex-partner goes into hospital for a serious operation tomorrow. I lent him my ipod. If he wasn't teetering on the edge of anxiety about operative complications, i would lay my pain on a platter for him. I would tell him i can't stomach his interest in a new woman (and she's hardly new, i believe they've been seeing each other nearly six months). I would cry and complain that he's fucked me over. Ripped me off. I would cry out for reassurance that i'm not some unlovable wench. I would pointlessly grasp for explanations and guarantees that he will remember only my good points. I would hopefully receive a comforting cuddle. It's now 3.55pm. I have a week's worth of work to pull off by tomorrow morning. I want to not let myself down. Why does this untamable sorrow get in the way?

I've deleted the BOI's number from my phone. Did it on Friday. My failed 8 year relationship has made me weaker not stronger. I'm stronger at dealing with drug addicted boyfriends and that's it. I really should be doing my work and yet i'm sitting here crying.

I selfishly want to make my ex-partner feel my pain and attempt to soothe it. I am a born depressive. So many roads point to suicide and giving up. Yet i go on. Plug away. Live to see another day and breathe another breath. I live for the ocean. I live for the garden i just walked past and audibly gasped "wow". I live for cocktails. I live for my parents. I live for hilarious emails from my sister. I live for rearranging objects in my house. I live for riding my bike, it makes me feel like a force of nature. I live for listening to Belle & Sebastian. I live for not enough meaningful reasons. I live to prove i can live. In this moment i appreciate a warm house, generous friends. The land at the top of my head needs to change. Rotate to the next land of productive and inspiring thought. Like the Folk of the Faraway Tree i need to race to the top of the tree to see the lands change... or rather jump off the sad-grieving-poo-land to avoid being stuck on it and whisked away from my treehouse for who knows how long. Alright. I've stopped crying and am now stepping onto the land of efficiency and cheerfulness.

Another Post

Existential evening - will someone just fucking pash me and put me out of my misery (temporarily!?). I'm questioning everything and disgusted with my status quo. DIsgusted could be a bit strong a word. Maybe uneasy. Once again i'm cascading down a financial fear fall, but all that really highlights is my lack of accomplishment in all things vocational and my lack of readiness for all things romantic.

I'll abort this post and return when my spirits have lifted. I am happy when walking on the beach.

Subscription Sensation!

Ms OK is testing a new subscription service. Lets hope it doesn't cause mayhem.

A Snotty Nose & a Sense of Underachievement

I'm overwhelmed again. The never ending list gets longer... like a gardener's work that is never done, but far less of a pleasant sensation than a gardener may have. I want 6 months off life to get on top of things or i at least want the overdrive to stay up late and get it all done. I continually add to my lists of things to do. One step forward, two steps back. I want some feeling of major accomplishment that is deserving of an indulgent holiday. Maybe i just want the holiday without a long list to return to.

I wonder if this blog will get physically removed from blogspot for proliferation of boring information? Sorry suckers, I'm hooked now and need this outlet. It's different to my diary which reads: okay day, went to soccer training without mojo, left early. house needs cleaning. get up early tomorrow. i won't stay in bed so long during summer. bad allergies or a cold. don't know.

Anyways, the good news is my brain hasn't dived as low as last week and i've just bought (from itunes - how modern!) some of the music by Vladimir Cosma from the French film 'My Father's Glory' and 'My Mother's Castle'. Films i saw in the early to mid 90s with melodies in the soundtrack that still ring in my head.

On an entirely opposing matter, i put a euphemistic booty call out to the BOI (boy of interest) on Saturday night - partly disguised as an invitation to play cards in my cubbyhouse. He had to decline but said it sounded good and called me by the nickname he's given me. Is this progress? Who gives a flying fuck? He's on a time limit and his number will auto-delete from my phone if there's no reciprocal invitation within 28 days. I'm serious. That'll be something ticked off the list.

Deconstructing a Date

I went out with the boy of interest last night. My friend asked this morning whether there was a spark, a vibe or an intangible attraction. I don’t know. It was a sociable, enjoyable but chaste date. I’m still trying to deconstruct whether he likes me and/or wants to shag me. I quite endorse his need to be Mr Single (ha! I think I might start calling him that). I was being honest when I said I didn’t want a relationship either. If I think about spending oodles of time with the one person – I can honestly say I don’t need that right now – I am existing quite happily sans companionship. However I do feel compelled to pursue boys of interest.

My GP diagnosed cavewoman syndrome. I was bemoaning my tendency to waste time and brain energy thinking about men – and she reassured me that it was natural sexual and reproductive forces at work. I can blame biology.

It’s difficult for me to be discerning about love and attraction at this point, as I think it’s tangled up with my craving for signs that I am lovable and that at some point I will meet someone I want to grow old with. I guess I have to accept the reality that I still have a million and one things to do that are things for me, myself and I.

I wish I’d bottled his affection, so that I could open it up and sniff it and sprinkle it on when I need a fix. Parfum de Self-Esteem.
I fear this blog has become some droll version of Carrie Bradshaw style triviality. I look forward to the day when I don’t need to leak my lustful passions and naïve confusion onto the page and can discuss instead brainwaves from the other lobes.

Thoughts of the last 24hours

Ms OK is attracted to men with bad eyesight.
Ms OK is a tennis pro trapped inside a *******’s body.
Ms OK spilt red wine over her carpet, it’s been a good week. Fuck it’s been a week. She’s getting through it without doing anything too extreme or controversial.
Ms OK wants to ask – is it ok if we shag again? Can we just get together and talk again without me being a weirdo?
Ms OK wants to explain her ambivalence / caginess; or at least try to.
Ms OK needs to realise each day is to be lived, not clocked up or counted.
Ms OK got up-sold on her bike repairs.
The powder absorbing the red wine in Ms OK’s carpet is giving her head spins.
Ms OK enjoyed a bottle of ‘cellared’ wine on her own. Thanks Timothy dear. Thanks Clonakilla. She danced the red wines stains away.
Ms OK gets batman lips when she drinks red wine.

IRONY

I is for irony.
I find out my ex is in hospital with déjà vu on the same day my dear friends become parents.
R is for romance.
Remind me when it's real.
O is for outrageous.
One sleeps with a man; they become a facebook friend.
N is for nonplussed.
Never before have i tried harder not to become obsessed.
Y is for yahoo.
Yes, she got a pash. Pash means shag.

New look, new methods

In case you're colourblind let me alert you to the change in colour palette of my blog.

This morning i sprayed the dirty dishes with insect spray. Preventative measures. New methods.

The kinesiologist tells me i have a trigger for despondency. A tendency to despondency. This has helped believe it or not. A little knowledge goes a long way.

Got to first base, but no further as yet...

I got what i asked for. I got a date. If that's what you can call a man and a woman spending time together one on one. I didn't get a pash. I didn't get a shag. Not even sure i got the promise of another encounter (second base). Hand it over to the gods. Hand it all over. Hand over my liver that needs cleaning. Hand over my body that needs shaping. Hand over my ego that needs pampering. Hand over my libido that needs taming. Had a little cry to the old love this morning. He cares for me. Always. I'm not craving a relationship. I'm craving falling in love. I'm craving something more shallow and gratifying.

I want to hunt and devour. Off now to Clay Day II. Perhaps i will fashion a miniature of the stomach and hipbones i wanted to gorge on. Yes, i have a thing for men's hipbones. I saw Paranoid Park last night and even noted the impassive young actor's hipbones.

Music will heal me. Beck. Gotye. All i need now is the Rolling Stones. Perhaps i need dancing above all.

Another post from the land of desperation, confusion and illogical confidence. Check ya later.

The Time Comes

the time comes,
when your old love meets someone new,
the tears which you haven't cried
auto-multiply and flood out

the time was always to come
when he met someone new
impossible to prepare
an appropriate reaction

the time has come
and he's met someone new
i feel devastated
and i'm not supposed to

demoralised and desperate

Barely. Beer-fuelled again and i just confided bravely in a man who works with the boy with the bad surname about my crush and experiences with that bad surname yet lovely boy-man who i feel some sense of destiny about. Is it my infantile brain or intuitive brain that is making me still think and somewhat obsess over him (though really what am i doing that is so obsessive other than thinking and writing about him?).

Late night and beer-fuelled is when you do experiments with your names and google. What happens if you put the name of his now wife and he into google? Nothing. What happens if you swap his wife's name for my name? Nothing.

At risk of exposing myself as a complete nutter who is still in teenage romanceville; i just want to express that something about my relationship (or lack thereof) with the now-married man, seems unresolved. Do i have more imagination than is helpful in a situation such as this? Should i be thinking about the business relationships forged today?

Fuck it. Something about his wedding photo doesn't seem right, but then wedding photos never do. I shouldn't judge his rightness for his wife based on his wedding photo's naturalness. That's not his nor her fault. Yes, i am demoralised. Yes, i am up late with no snacks. Yes, i am in a hotel room. Yes, i have drunk beer and champagne and consumed finger food only (food for fingers). I am drunk and demoralised and desperate and maybe i should divert my attention to thinking about Gotye.

Are there any decent men left for me or have i missed my course? Actually, i just want one decent perfect man.

Please advise asap.

Gotye - yet another intellectual crush

I'm in love (well that's a bit of a generalisation and perhaps beer-fuelled) with the musical artist Gotye. I have met him very briefly a few years ago, spoken to him on the phone when i answered my former partner's mobile and seen him play at Meredith. That's it for personal contact - so, yes, probably not in love at all. Not even as significantly as the boy with the bad surname who's on his honeymoon. If his new wife get hits by a tsunami which can be known to happen on Thailand honeymoons, then perhaps i'll crudely have a shoe in.

So Gotye; I listened to him on my sister's ipod (never been into ipods until i realised the value of them when in car with one's parents). I am moved by his music. His music makes me think he must be an interesting man. The potential of an interesting man makes me want to get my physical appearance sorted asap. If there's any value in being single (and there's bloody lots), it is a window of opportunity to turn myself into an uber-being fit for the man of my dreams who is sure to enter stage right when i am ready.

A haircut is in order.

1979-2008

Well, sometimes i admittedly do get affected by suicides, perhaps more than the average punter, but for some reason Heath Ledger's tragic death, which was probably more accident than suicide, is having a strange effect on me. Let me elaborate on the phrase 'strange effect':

We were born in the same year. Whenever i see a person's lifetime listed as 1979-year of death, it seems to affect me profoundly, as though it could be me.

One of the sleeping tablets he took was Stillnox, which i was prescribed but too fearful to take a few weeks back (see previous post). Ledger's recent quotes about his apparent insomnia and over-active brain rang very loud bells in mine, and although my case was perhaps not as protracted as his, i certainly empathised. I had also resorted to cocktailing medication in a desperate reach for sleep. Lucky i was lucky. I thought my body's reaction was pretty extreme, but at least i am alive.

I don't believe he wanted to die, but rather was prepared to play the edge, like so many of us for whom the concept of suicide is not outside the realm of possibility.

May he rest peacefully.

Well, where do I start?

I have had absolutely extraordinary (well, for me anyway) health semi-crisis in the past 72-100 hours. I will write about it properly later, but in the interim i have self-diagnosed adrenalin fatigue, after reading the article below, which i'm sure will appeal to other bloggers, or film-types:

From saucy to sweet.


And this is a great article that made me laugh out loud:

Sleepless in Suckerville

Catherine Deveny has a column in the Saturday Age - called 'Couch Life'. I don't read it regularly at all but do recall her amusing me terrifically in the past. She comments / reviews TV but usually in a fashion completely irrelevant or disparaging to the week ahead's programming. I hope you enjoy it!

The article was also timely, as insomnia is discussed - and basically the health issues relate to not being able to sleep since Wednesday night. I thank The Saturday Age for providing some amusement through this ordeal. I also thank my dear friends for truly looking after me. I am coming out of convalescence mode and am writing this at my friend's house - where i have been trying to recoup. It's likely i haven't slept properly since i got back to the city on NYE. Flew back from my parents forest/no-traffic-noise retreat, albeit with a chest infection, to the heatwave surrounding my cubbyhouse on a major intersection in Melbourne.

I don't begrudge it, and for anyone that's concerned, my mood has been nothing but positive since Wednesday. It is actually also possible that I have overdone the positive thinking and am experiencing some kind of mania. I am finishing a film, which is, and is going to be glorious - for perhaps the first time i have an excitement instead of anxiety and my brain is virtually vibing white heat - just about how to make the film even better over the next 2 weeks.

I've also been thinking about everything that ever happened. Images, thoughts, ideas. Stay tuned for a open day soiree at my cubbyhouse (haven't really been able to receive guests yet - still no couch). The soiree will feature a one-off exhibition of my childhood dress-up and ballet costumes. Kids who fit into the outfits will be the VIP guests. Got to just prevent it getting all girly. Hopefully some blokes/Dads will come too.

Enough now. Got to throw some water on the white heat.

Later alligator.