10 things about me...

1. I am the oldest child.
2. I have 2 half finished degrees from 2 different universities.
3. One of my musical(?) guilty pleasures is Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus.
4. I am disturbingly fond of reality television - specifically Big Brother, Australian Idol, Survivor and The Amazing Race.
5. I have never been involved in a wedding.
6. I'm allergic to penicillin and pseudoephedrine.
7. I've been in love with Paul McDermott and Jon Bon Jovi since the 1980's.
8. I cannot stand the song Oh What a Night (December 1963) by Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons
9. Budgets and saving are not my forte.
10. Strange people talk to me in the street all the time.

Still reviewing Saturday's lunch

I knew that there was something I forgot to mention about lunch yesterday. I nearly died when I saw him wearing a particularly bad example of a Daryl Somers jumper circa 1988. Eeek!

One thing I did notice about myself yesterday, is that I spent quite a bit of time deciding on ways that I would change him. That is probably not a good thing.

Pleased to meet you...Hope you guess my name

Well, I did it. I bit the bullet and I did it. I met him for lunch. Admittedly, I got a little sidetracked on my way there when I walked past the TSL shop and bought 2 rose pink Egyptian cotton bathsheets - a steal at $32. They are gorgeous and soft and will look good when the new shower is finished.

I decided that I wasn't go to go all out and be mutton dressed as lamb, so I just wore a long black skirt I bought at My Size last year, and a simple fuschia v neck jumper (I think it came from there too actually!) and my cute Kumfs shoes. I knew that I would be warm and comfortable, and the fushcia is a colour that really suits me. I did boost my ego a bit though, I washed my hair this morning and kept it loose, and put on a bit of foundation and bronzing powder.

We met, and there was an awkward moment, or 2 - maybe 3. First impression, he is taller than me, and has a whole lot of hair. That, and he would do really well hiring himself out as a Santa over Christmas. He is 32, but has a serious gut. Yes I know that I am not the skinniest woman - witness where I purchased my clothes, but I'm reasonably proportioned. That is what I see in the mirror anyway!

Lunch was odd. I felt that I was talking and talking and talking, and asking questions and getting quite closed answers. Then he got quite serious. He put all of his cards on the table at once and told me what he wants from life. Summary - he wants a wife and children, and he wants to be a good provider for his wife and children.

He said all of the words I want to hear so badly, but I still have some misgivings. He said all the words I want to hear, but he said them up front - so soon, without much to go on. I think that the best word I can use to describe him is trainspotter. He is/was quite obsessy (?word) about the music charts - to the extent that he used to tape each weeks Take 40 Australia and American Top 40, transcribe them and then track them the next week to see what was happening. On the plus side, he seemed to be a really nice guy, but I'm still not sure. I'm going to go out with him again, just to see what my gut says - right now tis a bit garbled. I'm still keeping the anonymity thing going - I would always rather be safe than sorry.

Right about now....

I can't believe I'm saying this, but thanks to Channel 10 and their ads for Australian Idol, I'm loving the Young Diva's song Right About Now. Catchy, singalongy, and will be a huge hit.

Strong, young, female, Australian voices, and none of them are sticks.

Thank you.

I'm late, I'm late for a very important date

I've launched myself back into the dating scene, and I'm daunted. Actually launched is probably the wrong word and I would be better to describe myself as tentatively poking the very end of my little toe in, hoping that it isn't too cold, and that there aren't sharks circling around ready to bite.

I've realised that the person that I want to spend my life with isn't ready to commit to me, or anyone. I've spent the last couple of years hoping that he will change, but I've realised that it just isn't going to happen, and by waiting, and continuing things the way they are, all I'm doing is giving him permission to keep going the way he is, and not valuing myself enough. I deserve more than that.

So, I joined a couple of dating websites, and let my friends know that I'm interested in meeting people. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't try to sabotage myself, and that I would make the effort to meet everyone who was interested in meeting me.

I've been emailing a couple of guys back and forth, and talking to them on messenger. I've agreed to meet one of them for lunch on Saturday. Since agreeing to meet him, I've had a couple of chats with him on messenger that make me wonder whether or not I'm doing the right thing. First he asked me if I minded that he was a virgin. Honestly, no I don't. Then (while I was at work!) he asked me yesterday if it was an issue that he had a small penis. I don't think he has an idea of appropriate conversations to have with women. I found myself wondering how he knows he has a small penis, and what he has compared it to. He is certainly being overly optimistic about what is going to happen on Saturday - I have absolutely no intention of having sex with him.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I'm being very careful - no one has my surname, my address, my home phone number - only my hotmail address and mobile number. I'm also meeting him in a very public place, and have a phone call set up for an hour into the date to help with a quick escape if necessary.

The power of ritual

This morning I had a shower. There is nothing unusual about this - I promise :)

Every day when I have a shower, I first brush my teeth, then I wash my body, and then I cleanse my face. I don't know how many years I've been showering like this, but I just do.

For some reason, this morning I reached for the soap first, and was rinsing my body off when I realised that I hadn't yet brushed my teeth. I got a real shock, and felt as if there was a jarring note somewhere in my day. So I brushed my teeth - and felt that all was right with the universe once more. Until I found myself reaching for the soap and washing myself again.

I've obviously hardcoded this ritual into both my body and brain, so that I know to reach for the soap after the toothbrush.

What I want to know is why?

I've tried to reach some conclusion before writing this, but I just haven't. I think that my time in the shower is when my brain just goes nuts, with lots of thinking and planning time for the day. Most people I know have come to dread the sentence that begins with "I was thinking in the shower this morning..." because they never know what is coming next. To help me to do this, I think my body just follows the normal routine, without consultations.

What do you think?

In vino veritas

I have 2 brothers. I have written about one of them before - the one who is engaged. I am closer to my other brother. He has had a pretty rough time over the last few years. I called him on Thursday night, and he and his housemate, who is also one of his best friends, were both more than a little drunk.

I got to have a conversation with his housemate, and was asking him if I could arrange for our youngest sister to come over to my house for a little while, whether he would come to see her there. He hasn't seen her lately, and every time she sees me she asks for brother - she thinks that when she sees me she will see him.

Housemate told me that every day at work, my brother puts a photo of him, me, and our youngest sister up on the work bench, and he thinks that is what gets him through the day.

I got off the phone, and burst into tears. I haven't stopped thinking about it for the last 2 days.

I'm in love with my weatherpixie

I love weatherpixies - and now I have one. Yay!!!

How cute is she? Think I'm going to have to pop into Amazon and get a gift for the creator.

Last night I had the strangest dream...

It didn't involve a rowboat to China though. And technically, it was the night before last.

A little history to give the dream background. Between 1993 - 1996 I was involved with a community radio station which was trying to get a full time broadcast licence. We were a very tight knit group until the standard committee politics got in the way.

In my dream, I was at a work party - with people and their families scattered all over the Melbourne Showgrounds. All of a sudden there were people from the radio station mingling - and then there were plain clothes policeman everywhere, looking for the first 2 people who started the radio station. Apparently they had both signed over some of the assets in 1993 someone who is wanted in the gangland killings and the police wanted them for questioning. So then I was running around the Showgrounds yelling out their names until I found an internet cafe when I started Googling them to try to find them. According to my Google research, one of them had run off to the Greek Islands with Tony Mokbel, and the other one started Wolfmother.

What the....?

Why am I here?

I started this blog so I had somewhere to write about my day, to help me process the thoughts that swirl around my head. Sometimes these are truly egocentric thought processes, sometimes I'm frustrated with the world and need to write to help me process.

I'm really hoping that I can get back into the swing of writing too. I really haven't done that much writing since I dropped out of my last attempt to complete a degree. I miss the discipline of writing, and hopefully can get back to doing it, and to be more confident with it.

I'm really looking forward to it.

Can I keep a secret?

Well no, I guess not. Last night, I was trying to explain the blogosphere to my mum, and ended up telling her about this blog. I didn't tell her what it is called, or the URL, but now she knows it is out there. I guess if she was more comfortable using google I'd be worried that she would search on some of the phrases I use the most in conversation. I did tell her that it was all anonymous, and reassured her that I wouldn't be using any family names in my writing.

She is the second person I've told - the other is my close friend in Auckland - but again, I didn't tell him the name or URL.

It is important to me to retain that anonymity- that way I feel comfortable writing whatever I want to without constraint.

The joy of a germ infestation

That isn't a sentence I thought I'd ever write. I was pretty depressed and sooky the first few days of my leave - could not believe that I was finally having some time off work and then to get sick.

Oddly enough, even though I've felt absolutely craptacular this week, I've still had a pretty good week. I've managed to read the archives of some of my favourite blogs, and one of them managed to make me laugh so hard that I coughed so hard and passed out. Oops. Check out Magazine Man to see what caused it.

With enormous thanks to my brother, I managed to get lots of stuff out into my council's hard rubbish collection. So much left over by my last housemate all gone. What a relief.

The biggest change for me, and the best one, is that I've hardly watched any day time TV - I just discovered that Queer Eye is on at lunchtime, and today I'll watch some old Spicks & Specks. The TV is going off now though - Oprah just started, and it is a repeat I've already seen at least twice. Cancel that, I just found the very spunky Rhys Muldoon on the ABC - bless.

I've also been able to watch the ultimate soap opera this week - Howard v Costello. Who needs TV with that going on.

Fear of commitment

com·mit·ment (n)
1. The act or an instance of committing, especially:
a. The act of referring a legislative bill to committee.
b. Official consignment, as to a prison or mental health facility.
c. A court order authorizing consignment to a prison.

2.
a.A pledge to do.
b. Something pledged, especially an engagement by contract involving financial obligation.

3. The state of being bound emotionally or intellectually to a course of action or to another person or persons: a deep commitment to liberal policies; a profound commitment to the family.

fear (n)

1.
a. A feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.
b. A state or condition marked by this feeling: living in fear.

2. A feeling of disquiet or apprehension: a fear of looking foolish.
3. Extreme reverence or awe, as toward a supreme power.
4. A reason for dread or apprehension: Being alone is my greatest fear.

v. feared, fear·ing, fears v. tr.
1. To be afraid or frightened of.
2. To be uneasy or apprehensive about: feared the test results.
3. To be in awe of; revere.
4. To consider probable; expect: I fear you are wrong. I fear I have bad news for you.
5. Archaic. To feel fear within (oneself).

v. intr.
1. To be afraid.
2. To be uneasy or apprehensive.

Middle English fer, from Old English fr, danger, sudden calamity.

Ooops, I think I've diagnosed John Howard's problem.

What a headline - PM Promised me: Costello. Not sure how to break it to you Pete, but he has screwed all of us, not just you.

It must be annual leave when.....

You wake up on the first day of your week off and ...

• your throat is excruciatingly painful
• your nose feels like a tap has been installed and is stuck on off
• it hurts to breathe, you cough and it hurts, you start wheezing going from the kitchen to the bedroom.

I knew I was tired and run down, but I didn't realise that I was quite this bad - okay, maybe I did, I've just been hanging out on the river in Egypt. You would think I could get the hint when the guy in the coffee shop near work was colluding with a colleague to get me to take some time off.

Anyway, I've spent the time since Saturday morning wallowing in the world of Kleenex Aloe Vera tissues - or as my sister calls them - squishy tissues, hot honey and lemon drinks, lemsip, gargling disprins, fresh orange juice, and mandarins.

Today I managed to drag my sorry behind to the doctor and had a lovely 10 minute wait in the waiting room. Thank you to the gorgeous Mia who made me smile by looking at me, smiling and saying hello and waving before toddling over to me, and presenting me with a picture book about ducks and an old copy of New Idea. An even bigger thank you to Mia's mum who told me that Mia didn't normally behave like that with strangers, and then told me that I smelt nice - I was so glad to have taken the effort to put on perfume when I got dressed (if you are interested Guerlain Champs Elysees Too Much - discontinued now - devastated!) I'll probably never meet these people again, but they just gave me such a lift when I felt crappy I'll remember them fondly.

Final diagnosis - bronchitis, 2 ear infections and a cold.

To post or not to post, that is the question

Well, it has been a few days since I've posted - I've saved a few drafts, mainly venting my spleen at John Howard, George Bush and the Immigration Department. I decided not to post them, just because after spewing forth some vitriol, and getting it all out of my system, I felt better just for writing them, but didn't think I was going to add anything constructive to any debate. The world probably has enough vitriol in it and doesn't need my help. I'm loving 101 uses for a John Howard - makes me laugh and I feel better knowing that I'm not alone. Surely this cannot go on forever - the 12 year old scotch I bought to drink when he is deposed is aging nicely - so far it is 16 - I do hope it doesn't make 18.

On another note, how good is the word vitriol - I love it!