After writing my previous blog it got me thinking about my life.
What I do, and what I do not, deserve to complain about.
Sure, I could complain about my entire life, but how would that make my life any better.
So, I am going to be completely open, and honest, and if it hits home then, well, I deserve it.
I put enormous pressure on myself when I don’t have to.
I give 110% at my job -
Even when it only requires 50%.
And I beat myself up if I can’t quite reach it.
I am spending hours every week attempting to teach myself a language that I will probably never be able to understand, let alone speak but I have started it – so I will finish it.
I have become a second mother to a little boy who doesn’t really need me, but I do it because I am such a perfectionist I want to be punished if he isn’t happy or healthy because I don’t trust anyone else to do it. I know for a fact he would be fine without me, in fact, he would probably be better off.
I owe this kid my life, literally, therefore I take it upon myself.
And it really, truly hurts when something happens in his life that isn’t 100% what i think is best for him.
I am overweight. Its not a food thing.
I can give or take food. In fact, most of the time eating is a chore.
I go through shortlived craving phases but it dies out sooner than it starts.
My metabolism does not exist, literally. It was destroyed due to illness as an infant.
I have been fat my entire life – my starting fads and quickly losing interest in them doesn’t do much to help either.
Really, I should be going to the gym more than I do.
And to be completely honest, I go very rarely.
At the moment.
My gym routine, really does, start back next week.
I am, for intents and purposes, socially retarded.
I am an outcast.
I am a high maintenance friend – for those who have stood by my side, I thank you.
Your perserverance means a hell of a lot to me.
I know I am a hard person to be around – I hate being around me somedays.
In “real” life – not including family, I have two close friends.
and maybe, four good friends. But I even question their motives.
Untrusting of everybody + Anxiousness in new places/around new people/crowded places = hard to make friends.
I feel more trusting of “online” friendships, but only since having met two very special ladies
So, thankyou Miss M-C and Mrs C
And this, this blog post, is so draining.
For so few words, the openness, the honesty, is so different to anything I have ever posted before.
It is going to take alot to click that publish button.
But you know what – screw it.
How many people can I scare away, that I haven’t before?
Friday, June 4, 2010
Rereading my last blog I feel I should clarify.
I don’t think you have to choose between the fabulous world of fab furniture and cocktail hour to have a family.
You can have both. And I think you should, if thats what you want.
My point was, I was completely the opposite.
I didn’t want marriage.
I didn’t want babies.
I will be the mother who wears heels to the park.
I will be the mother whose toddler orders their own baby cinos in cafes.
I will be the mother of an utterly urban baby.
My baby will wear black on occassion.
My toddler will rock skinnies.
My daughter will aspire to be Suri Cruise – complete with the cute hairstyle.
I don’t think you have to choose between the fabulous world of fab furniture and cocktail hour to have a family.
You can have both. And I think you should, if thats what you want.
My point was, I was completely the opposite.
I didn’t want marriage.
I didn’t want babies.
I will be the mother who wears heels to the park.
I will be the mother whose toddler orders their own baby cinos in cafes.
I will be the mother of an utterly urban baby.
My baby will wear black on occassion.
My toddler will rock skinnies.
My daughter will aspire to be Suri Cruise – complete with the cute hairstyle.
Ms Independent. May 22, 2010
I’ve always been the girl that was convinced she could do it all.
and all on her own.
I could have the dream apartment.
The fabulous furniture
The well trained poodle
My dream life was set.
I would have a personal trainer.
A chef. A cleaner.
A mercedes… or a lexus.
A view of the ocean.
Great friends and an even greater wine supplier.
I would be a real housewive of the Eastern Suburbs – without the wife part.
All the guys I have ever dated seem to relish who I was.
I didn’t want clingy. I didn’t want marriage and I certainly didn’t want babies.
I hated doors being opened, chairs pushed in.
And only reluctantly would I hold their hand or show any public displays of affection.
I think this is why I always ended up finding out my perfect man, was married.
Now I am older.
I know I can’t afford the personal trainer.
The chef.
The merc, or the lexus.
I am practical now.
I have also realised it will be a struggle for me to ever buy a house on my own terms.
On my own.
But, I don’t want “on my own” anymore.
I want the house with realistic furniture.
The loving husband.
The loud, noisy, fun and sweet babies.
I want midnight wake-up calls.
Snuggles in front of the fire.
I will trade my dreams of dancing til dawn with tall, dark strangers.
And I will trade in the perfectly behaved poodle.
All for a loving partner, and a chubby little baby.
and all on her own.
I could have the dream apartment.
The fabulous furniture
The well trained poodle
My dream life was set.
I would have a personal trainer.
A chef. A cleaner.
A mercedes… or a lexus.
A view of the ocean.
Great friends and an even greater wine supplier.
I would be a real housewive of the Eastern Suburbs – without the wife part.
All the guys I have ever dated seem to relish who I was.
I didn’t want clingy. I didn’t want marriage and I certainly didn’t want babies.
I hated doors being opened, chairs pushed in.
And only reluctantly would I hold their hand or show any public displays of affection.
I think this is why I always ended up finding out my perfect man, was married.
Now I am older.
I know I can’t afford the personal trainer.
The chef.
The merc, or the lexus.
I am practical now.
I have also realised it will be a struggle for me to ever buy a house on my own terms.
On my own.
But, I don’t want “on my own” anymore.
I want the house with realistic furniture.
The loving husband.
The loud, noisy, fun and sweet babies.
I want midnight wake-up calls.
Snuggles in front of the fire.
I will trade my dreams of dancing til dawn with tall, dark strangers.
And I will trade in the perfectly behaved poodle.
All for a loving partner, and a chubby little baby.
I’m not. May 11, 2010
I’m not one of those girls that craves drama.
I hate it.
I’m not one of those girls who creates drama.
I do everything I can to avoid it.
I’m not one of those girls who thinks the world revolves around me.
In fact, most days, I wish the ground would swallow me whole.
I like being invisible.
I like being anonymous.
Its calming.
So why is it, that I have to plead, whoa is me?
This is not who I am, but I just need to know, WHY do I always get treated the same way?
Do I have it stamped on my forehead?
Am I a more terrible person than I imagined?
It doesn’t matter how much I run and hide, the drama seems to catch up with me.
I am over it.
My goal this year was to be a better person, I feel like this is slowly slipping from me.
First the cancellation of my course.
Then I dumped my partner because I can’t get over feelings for a past lover.
Now, I have lost a friend because I just cannot take the crap anymore…
All of this, and I can’t help but wonder what it is going through her head?
The way things have been swapped around and altered to suit situations almost seems as if they are drug/alcohol affected, at the very least, emotionally unstable,
Yet, whilst I want all this gone, all over with.
Part of me wants to post everything in a blog.
Get it all out – because I want to know if what I did, who I am, is really that terrible of a person.
Maybe I just am.
I hate it.
I’m not one of those girls who creates drama.
I do everything I can to avoid it.
I’m not one of those girls who thinks the world revolves around me.
In fact, most days, I wish the ground would swallow me whole.
I like being invisible.
I like being anonymous.
Its calming.
So why is it, that I have to plead, whoa is me?
This is not who I am, but I just need to know, WHY do I always get treated the same way?
Do I have it stamped on my forehead?
Am I a more terrible person than I imagined?
It doesn’t matter how much I run and hide, the drama seems to catch up with me.
I am over it.
My goal this year was to be a better person, I feel like this is slowly slipping from me.
First the cancellation of my course.
Then I dumped my partner because I can’t get over feelings for a past lover.
Now, I have lost a friend because I just cannot take the crap anymore…
All of this, and I can’t help but wonder what it is going through her head?
The way things have been swapped around and altered to suit situations almost seems as if they are drug/alcohol affected, at the very least, emotionally unstable,
Yet, whilst I want all this gone, all over with.
Part of me wants to post everything in a blog.
Get it all out – because I want to know if what I did, who I am, is really that terrible of a person.
Maybe I just am.
Defeat. May 11, 2010
I surrender.
I wave the white flag.
I have defended my actions, you still shoot me down.
Nothing is ever right for you.
Nothing I do, is ever right.
I’ve thrown my hands up.
I’m out.
I’m done.
I’m sorry it has come to this.
I really am.
But, I don’t need to be treated like this, when I can’t keep up with you.
I have tried to be understanding, to be compassionate, but each time I reach out, you pull further away.
And somehow, that is still my fault.
You have my number.
When you grow up.
Call me.
I wave the white flag.
I have defended my actions, you still shoot me down.
Nothing is ever right for you.
Nothing I do, is ever right.
I’ve thrown my hands up.
I’m out.
I’m done.
I’m sorry it has come to this.
I really am.
But, I don’t need to be treated like this, when I can’t keep up with you.
I have tried to be understanding, to be compassionate, but each time I reach out, you pull further away.
And somehow, that is still my fault.
You have my number.
When you grow up.
Call me.
Toxic Friendships May 11, 2010
Yesterday I blogged about how hard it was to make friends.
Today its about losing them.
How do you “break up” with a friend?
Specifically those ones that are bad for you?
It hurts, regardless.
But it needs to be done, right?
I am too old and tired to put up with childish high school drama.
and I, in all honesty, don’t think the childishness is coming from me.
I am clinging onto a relationship because it once meant so much to me,
I am clinging on because I don’t have that many friends that I can afford to lose them
But times change, people change, situations change.
And now its time to cut the cord.
For my own wellbeing, as well as hers.
The problem is making it final.
Today its about losing them.
How do you “break up” with a friend?
Specifically those ones that are bad for you?
It hurts, regardless.
But it needs to be done, right?
I am too old and tired to put up with childish high school drama.
and I, in all honesty, don’t think the childishness is coming from me.
I am clinging onto a relationship because it once meant so much to me,
I am clinging on because I don’t have that many friends that I can afford to lose them
But times change, people change, situations change.
And now its time to cut the cord.
For my own wellbeing, as well as hers.
The problem is making it final.
Friends May 10, 2010
Friends are funny creatures.
You have them.
You lose them.
You miss them.
You love them.
They drive you crazy.
But life would not be the same without them.
Without some of my closest friends I wouldn’t be the person I am today.
My friends are so diverse.
I met them at differing stages of my life and they are still in my life because of who they are.
We are all changing, but we still make time for each other.
We are slowly drifting apart – but that is all apart of life.
Friends are hard to make.
Ever meet someone for a brief moment and think – geez, I want to be friends with them?
How do you carry on from that?
Request them on facebook and hope you connect that way?
Asking them out for cocktails is a bit forward.
Hanging out where you know they will be is a bit stalkerish.
Its hard when you don’t have mutual friends.
Its kind of like dating.
But instead of finding a potential husband, you are looking for a potential friend.
Shopping partner.
Gym buddy.
Cocktail and gossip pal.
But the hurdles are still the same.
The fear is still the same.
The rejection is still the same.
How do you approach a new friend without seeming like a stalker?
Was all this easier before the invention of social networking?
Before Facebook you could go to a party and be introduced to new people.
Now you go to a party and think – where do I know this person from?
I know they are married, and they like to fish… then it clicks, you have unintentionally stalked this person on Facebook and now you feel like a creep and don’t know how to interact with them.
Don’t worry too much – chances are they already know what cocktail you are from your own Facebook page.
Is my social awkwardness showing?
You have them.
You lose them.
You miss them.
You love them.
They drive you crazy.
But life would not be the same without them.
Without some of my closest friends I wouldn’t be the person I am today.
My friends are so diverse.
I met them at differing stages of my life and they are still in my life because of who they are.
We are all changing, but we still make time for each other.
We are slowly drifting apart – but that is all apart of life.
Friends are hard to make.
Ever meet someone for a brief moment and think – geez, I want to be friends with them?
How do you carry on from that?
Request them on facebook and hope you connect that way?
Asking them out for cocktails is a bit forward.
Hanging out where you know they will be is a bit stalkerish.
Its hard when you don’t have mutual friends.
Its kind of like dating.
But instead of finding a potential husband, you are looking for a potential friend.
Shopping partner.
Gym buddy.
Cocktail and gossip pal.
But the hurdles are still the same.
The fear is still the same.
The rejection is still the same.
How do you approach a new friend without seeming like a stalker?
Was all this easier before the invention of social networking?
Before Facebook you could go to a party and be introduced to new people.
Now you go to a party and think – where do I know this person from?
I know they are married, and they like to fish… then it clicks, you have unintentionally stalked this person on Facebook and now you feel like a creep and don’t know how to interact with them.
Don’t worry too much – chances are they already know what cocktail you are from your own Facebook page.
Is my social awkwardness showing?
Priorities. May 7, 2010
My priorities in life are slowly changing.
Maybe for the better,
Maybe for the worse.
The result is yet to be seen.
I am getting sick of being moody, or being depressed.
On taking it all out on this blog.
I am sick of writing about depression.
About my lost lovers.
About boys.
That isn’t therapy.
Its dwelling.
No more.
I need something new to focus on.
Maybe I will meet someone, get married, and have babies.
It won’t be with him so I have to move on.
Maybe I will end up alone.
But at least I will be alone in a stylish apartment.
I don’t want to be alone.
I want to have a significant other I can share my life with.
Argue over the smell of fake tan, and leaving wet towels around with.
Someone to teach me new things, take me out of my comfort zone.
But not too much.
And then spend the rest of the time completely comfortable with each other.
Thats what I want.
I guess now is as good a time as any, dear readers, that I have ended things with my partner.
It wasn’t going where it needed to go.
My heart wasn’t in it.
It wasn’t fair to him.
Or me, really.
I was just with him, in retrospect, because I hate saying I am single.
Maybe it’s a tag I need to re-evaluate.
xoxox
Maybe for the better,
Maybe for the worse.
The result is yet to be seen.
I am getting sick of being moody, or being depressed.
On taking it all out on this blog.
I am sick of writing about depression.
About my lost lovers.
About boys.
That isn’t therapy.
Its dwelling.
No more.
I need something new to focus on.
Maybe I will meet someone, get married, and have babies.
It won’t be with him so I have to move on.
Maybe I will end up alone.
But at least I will be alone in a stylish apartment.
I don’t want to be alone.
I want to have a significant other I can share my life with.
Argue over the smell of fake tan, and leaving wet towels around with.
Someone to teach me new things, take me out of my comfort zone.
But not too much.
And then spend the rest of the time completely comfortable with each other.
Thats what I want.
I guess now is as good a time as any, dear readers, that I have ended things with my partner.
It wasn’t going where it needed to go.
My heart wasn’t in it.
It wasn’t fair to him.
Or me, really.
I was just with him, in retrospect, because I hate saying I am single.
Maybe it’s a tag I need to re-evaluate.
xoxox
Drives me crazy. April 23, 2010
You don’t know what you have.
One day, everything you are holding onto is going to fall apart because you are not making the right choices.
Why is it, that I can see everything you are doing wrong, yet you think you are so innocent?
You have what I want.
I will never have it again.
But just because I can’t have it, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to.
Yes I am jealous.
But I am a bigger person than that.
I am too old for that.
Take what you have.
Hold onto it.
But look after it.
Or else he will see past this innocent portrait you have painted of yourself and run into the arms of someone who won’t change him for the worst.
One day, everything you are holding onto is going to fall apart because you are not making the right choices.
Why is it, that I can see everything you are doing wrong, yet you think you are so innocent?
You have what I want.
I will never have it again.
But just because I can’t have it, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to.
Yes I am jealous.
But I am a bigger person than that.
I am too old for that.
Take what you have.
Hold onto it.
But look after it.
Or else he will see past this innocent portrait you have painted of yourself and run into the arms of someone who won’t change him for the worst.
Doormat April 21, 2010
I am sick to death of being the doormat.
I always thought I was a stronger person than this.
I always looked at other people and wondered why they stayed in that relationship, in that situation and didn’t just break themselves free.
Wondered why they couldn’t see that they had the strength to do it.
Now I know that they don’t know they are trapped.
That anything is wrong.
Today I discovered that I am the doormat.
and I have been for years.
I take the abuse and I give everything I have in return.
I wish that with, the revelation came the solution.
It doesn’t.
I am just angry that it has taken me 10 years to see it.
And it will probably take me another 10 to work out how to correct it.
I always thought I was a stronger person than this.
I always looked at other people and wondered why they stayed in that relationship, in that situation and didn’t just break themselves free.
Wondered why they couldn’t see that they had the strength to do it.
Now I know that they don’t know they are trapped.
That anything is wrong.
Today I discovered that I am the doormat.
and I have been for years.
I take the abuse and I give everything I have in return.
I wish that with, the revelation came the solution.
It doesn’t.
I am just angry that it has taken me 10 years to see it.
And it will probably take me another 10 to work out how to correct it.
Games we play. April 21, 2010
I am sick of trying.
I am always to one to maintain this relationship that we have.
Well, as of today, it’s over.
Why must it be so hard.
So difficult.
This is supposed to be easy. We have known each other for most of our lives.
We know everything there is to know about each other.
I attract toxic friends.
They use, they abuse, they walk away.
Not this time.
I am done.
I am done trying.
It’s your turn.
Your move.
If you want this fixed, you can fix it.
I’m not chasing you anymore.
I am always to one to maintain this relationship that we have.
Well, as of today, it’s over.
Why must it be so hard.
So difficult.
This is supposed to be easy. We have known each other for most of our lives.
We know everything there is to know about each other.
I attract toxic friends.
They use, they abuse, they walk away.
Not this time.
I am done.
I am done trying.
It’s your turn.
Your move.
If you want this fixed, you can fix it.
I’m not chasing you anymore.
Always unanswered questions. April 20, 2010
I’m not going to keep doing this to myself.
I promised myself I was going to get over this and look to the future.
I don’t know what that holds and its a scary scary thought.
Always looked ahead, and forever behind me.
But have never actually thought out the circumstances that come with the future I have mapped out for myself.
Does someone have a crystal ball?
I just want to know I am making the right decision with this.
That I am not going to look back in 10 years and beat myself up over this, how I have been over the past 5 years.
I want.
No, I need
Someone to tell me if I am being stupid.
If I should stick it out.
Or if I should walk away.
and HOW I do any of these things.
I feel like I am a constant limbo.
Fighting with myself over every small detail.
Something as small as someone asking how I am can lead to my analyzing my answer for hours.
What will they take away from my answer?
Will they think differently of me now?
Am I just ridiculously paranoid?
Why do I care what people think? And how can I stop myself from caring?
I don’t want to.
I just want to do what I want.
When I want, like I should be doing.
If only I knew what I wanted.
I promised myself I was going to get over this and look to the future.
I don’t know what that holds and its a scary scary thought.
Always looked ahead, and forever behind me.
But have never actually thought out the circumstances that come with the future I have mapped out for myself.
Does someone have a crystal ball?
I just want to know I am making the right decision with this.
That I am not going to look back in 10 years and beat myself up over this, how I have been over the past 5 years.
I want.
No, I need
Someone to tell me if I am being stupid.
If I should stick it out.
Or if I should walk away.
and HOW I do any of these things.
I feel like I am a constant limbo.
Fighting with myself over every small detail.
Something as small as someone asking how I am can lead to my analyzing my answer for hours.
What will they take away from my answer?
Will they think differently of me now?
Am I just ridiculously paranoid?
Why do I care what people think? And how can I stop myself from caring?
I don’t want to.
I just want to do what I want.
When I want, like I should be doing.
If only I knew what I wanted.
April 17, 2010
The thing with depression is it can lead you in so many directions.
People always associate depression with crying, cutting and suicide.
This is sometimes true.
But not in every case.
It isn’t something to choose to have.
Noone would choose to have the disease.
Just as noone chooses to have cancer.
Depression, like life, has many directions.
Many paths.
How it affects you isn’t a choice.
How one chooses to deal with it is.
I was always told that suicide is a cowards way out.
And to a degree it is.
Anyone who has been on that path.
Anyone who has sat on the edge.
knows.
They know that jumping is the easier option.
Walking away is the hardest part.
You have to want something so badly.
Badly enough that it can overturn anything your mind is telling you that you have to do.
Something that has enough force to defend against those voices telling you all the things you aren’t, that you won’t ever be.
Won’t ever be smart enough, thin enough, rich enough, happy enough, successful enough.
That something has to be something worth living for when nothing else is.
That something is currently living and breathing and laughing and now two years of age.
For that, I can never thank you.
The two of you will never know what you have done for me.
How much you truly saved me.
and how you continue to save me.
Life just isn’t worth it without you here to love.
To protect.
To watch grow.
To Shiloh and Cocobean.
I love you more than there are words to express, though I have tried.
You will never know.
I will never tell you.
But you are both constantly on my mind, and forever in my heart.
This is an old blog.
Written but never posted
People always associate depression with crying, cutting and suicide.
This is sometimes true.
But not in every case.
It isn’t something to choose to have.
Noone would choose to have the disease.
Just as noone chooses to have cancer.
Depression, like life, has many directions.
Many paths.
How it affects you isn’t a choice.
How one chooses to deal with it is.
I was always told that suicide is a cowards way out.
And to a degree it is.
Anyone who has been on that path.
Anyone who has sat on the edge.
knows.
They know that jumping is the easier option.
Walking away is the hardest part.
You have to want something so badly.
Badly enough that it can overturn anything your mind is telling you that you have to do.
Something that has enough force to defend against those voices telling you all the things you aren’t, that you won’t ever be.
Won’t ever be smart enough, thin enough, rich enough, happy enough, successful enough.
That something has to be something worth living for when nothing else is.
That something is currently living and breathing and laughing and now two years of age.
For that, I can never thank you.
The two of you will never know what you have done for me.
How much you truly saved me.
and how you continue to save me.
Life just isn’t worth it without you here to love.
To protect.
To watch grow.
To Shiloh and Cocobean.
I love you more than there are words to express, though I have tried.
You will never know.
I will never tell you.
But you are both constantly on my mind, and forever in my heart.
This is an old blog.
Written but never posted
Over. April 17, 2010
I think things may be over.
I feel like I have no feelings for him anymore.
At all.
No skip of a heartbeat when his name flashes up on my phone.
No longing to hear his voice.
Nothing.
All of that has been replaced with the what-ifs.
What if I had of persued the other guy.
What if I wasn’t with him when “he” came back into my life.
Now all I can think of is that he was in the way.
Can’t help thinking these things.
I feel like a love sick teenager.
Hate this feeling.
Now I just have to work up the courage to tell him.
I feel like I have no feelings for him anymore.
At all.
No skip of a heartbeat when his name flashes up on my phone.
No longing to hear his voice.
Nothing.
All of that has been replaced with the what-ifs.
What if I had of persued the other guy.
What if I wasn’t with him when “he” came back into my life.
Now all I can think of is that he was in the way.
Can’t help thinking these things.
I feel like a love sick teenager.
Hate this feeling.
Now I just have to work up the courage to tell him.
April 16, 2010
I think I am a little to obsessive for my own good.
I started this blog with the intention of posting everyday.
I have a confession to make.
I blog.
Every.
Single.
Day.
I don’t always hit the publish button.
Alot of the time I click save draft and don’t ever publish it.
Blogging is a type of therapy for me.
Sometimes I publish things I shouldn’t.
But until what I have to say hurts somebody I love, I will continue to blog.
I will contine to say what I want.
What I feel that I have to.
At the end of the day – this is my life.
I have to live it how I see fit and not let other peoples opinions, and impressions on me, affect who I am as a person.
Easier said than done.
But this is my goal for the week.
Do not let others affect who I am.
Who I want to be.
That being said.
Somedays, I will still write and not publish.
Somethings are better left unsaid.
I started this blog with the intention of posting everyday.
I have a confession to make.
I blog.
Every.
Single.
Day.
I don’t always hit the publish button.
Alot of the time I click save draft and don’t ever publish it.
Blogging is a type of therapy for me.
Sometimes I publish things I shouldn’t.
But until what I have to say hurts somebody I love, I will continue to blog.
I will contine to say what I want.
What I feel that I have to.
At the end of the day – this is my life.
I have to live it how I see fit and not let other peoples opinions, and impressions on me, affect who I am as a person.
Easier said than done.
But this is my goal for the week.
Do not let others affect who I am.
Who I want to be.
That being said.
Somedays, I will still write and not publish.
Somethings are better left unsaid.
History Repeating April 12, 2010
I don’t want to be married.
I don’t want to have a million children.
But.
My dreams consist of these things.
With him.
Him.
Who I let walk away, years ago.
I let him slip through my fingers.
My dreams, will never come true.
He is happy now.
With a wife.
Children.
I have a partner.
But I don’t see the same future for us.
It’s brutal. But it’s honest.
He is aware of my non-commital.
He says he is happy.
He wants the relationship. the marriage. the babies.
I don’t.
Will it be history repeating? When he leaves me, will I yearn for what I could of had, but didn’t want.
I don’t want to have a million children.
But.
My dreams consist of these things.
With him.
Him.
Who I let walk away, years ago.
I let him slip through my fingers.
My dreams, will never come true.
He is happy now.
With a wife.
Children.
I have a partner.
But I don’t see the same future for us.
It’s brutal. But it’s honest.
He is aware of my non-commital.
He says he is happy.
He wants the relationship. the marriage. the babies.
I don’t.
Will it be history repeating? When he leaves me, will I yearn for what I could of had, but didn’t want.
Stay Safe April 8, 2010
A very close childhood friend went to war.
Today.
I don’t know how I feel about it.
I am not sure I have the right to feel anything.
So many years have passed.
We speak so little.
Stay safe.
Come home.
I don’t want Facebook to be the last contact we have.
I miss the years we haven’t had together.
You were my best friend.
My only true friend.
xox
Today.
I don’t know how I feel about it.
I am not sure I have the right to feel anything.
So many years have passed.
We speak so little.
Stay safe.
Come home.
I don’t want Facebook to be the last contact we have.
I miss the years we haven’t had together.
You were my best friend.
My only true friend.
xox
Its not you, it’s me. April 6, 2010
I am not sure how I would react if I knew that the people I see in my day-to-day life read my blog.
Would I confidently be able to look in their eyes?
Or would I run and hide.
I think I would be the latter.
Whilst I do want to know if people are reading this, I also don’t because I am so open here.
So honest.
I am not this person in real life.
I hold my emotions close.
My thoughts even closer.
Would I be more guarded on here if people I know, my friends, my partner, my boss, my parents are reading this?
Answer is yes.
Reason is because I don’t want to be judged by them.
Anyone but them.
And I don’t want them to blame themselves for anything I write.
Anything I feel.
Anything I think.
If you are reading this.
I am sorry.
It’s not you — its me.
Would I confidently be able to look in their eyes?
Or would I run and hide.
I think I would be the latter.
Whilst I do want to know if people are reading this, I also don’t because I am so open here.
So honest.
I am not this person in real life.
I hold my emotions close.
My thoughts even closer.
Would I be more guarded on here if people I know, my friends, my partner, my boss, my parents are reading this?
Answer is yes.
Reason is because I don’t want to be judged by them.
Anyone but them.
And I don’t want them to blame themselves for anything I write.
Anything I feel.
Anything I think.
If you are reading this.
I am sorry.
It’s not you — its me.
Comfort Zone April 6, 2010
I am in my twenties.
I don’t go out clubbing, or wear short skirts, or wear fake eyelashes on a daily basis.
I don’t go to Uni, or Tafe, or do any form of study.
I work. Full – Time. Sometimes 7 days a week.
But that’s the tourism industry for you.
I spent my adolescent years as a cranky, depressed teen.
I coloured my hair. I refused to wear uniform. I listened to my discman [WTF?] in class.
I didn’t study for exams. I completed assignments the night before they were due.
I pretty much appeared a semi-badass.
I wasnt.
Despite my lack of effort, I got good grades.
I rarely got in trouble and school was my life.
I lived for school.
I hated the classes, but I saw my friends.
And this, at the time, was enough for me.
I rarely hung out with them outside those school gates.
I didn’t go out of a night.
Or weekend.
I didn’t set foot in a club until I was 19.
I hated it, and left after about 5 minutes.
I spent my teenage years, venting my anger at the world, on Myspace [again, WTF?]
I worked part-time. Came home and got on the computer.
I lived through my friends. They were out clubbing, and getting drunk underage, and seeing and doing things I thought only happened in movies.
Sure, I was invited to go with them, but after you decline a few times, the invitations stopped.
Was glad when this happened. I could stop coming up with lame excuses why I couldn’t go.
Work. Family commitments. Babysitting.
Whatever.
Now, I look back and wonder how much differently I would of been if I had gone out, done those things.
Would I be like so many of my friends and be married, or with babies, or like the rest of them and still going out.
Becoming a semi-cougar now that the younger generation have achieved their IDs [and fake IDs]
I am a different person then I was back in day.
I enjoy spending time with my friends. Going to the beach, out to dinner, to the movies – even to bars and cocktail lounges. I still avoid the club scene, I am now too old. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
As long as I feel like I am in control, I am fine.
I am always the designated driver. My car is my security blanket. I always know that if something happens I can retreat there and all will be okay.
At the end of a day/night out, as long as I can come home, to my quiet, darkened house, to my doona and my poodle and my facebook I am happy.
Moderation is the key.
This is my new comfort zone.
As long as I have that, it will be okay.
I don’t go out clubbing, or wear short skirts, or wear fake eyelashes on a daily basis.
I don’t go to Uni, or Tafe, or do any form of study.
I work. Full – Time. Sometimes 7 days a week.
But that’s the tourism industry for you.
I spent my adolescent years as a cranky, depressed teen.
I coloured my hair. I refused to wear uniform. I listened to my discman [WTF?] in class.
I didn’t study for exams. I completed assignments the night before they were due.
I pretty much appeared a semi-badass.
I wasnt.
Despite my lack of effort, I got good grades.
I rarely got in trouble and school was my life.
I lived for school.
I hated the classes, but I saw my friends.
And this, at the time, was enough for me.
I rarely hung out with them outside those school gates.
I didn’t go out of a night.
Or weekend.
I didn’t set foot in a club until I was 19.
I hated it, and left after about 5 minutes.
I spent my teenage years, venting my anger at the world, on Myspace [again, WTF?]
I worked part-time. Came home and got on the computer.
I lived through my friends. They were out clubbing, and getting drunk underage, and seeing and doing things I thought only happened in movies.
Sure, I was invited to go with them, but after you decline a few times, the invitations stopped.
Was glad when this happened. I could stop coming up with lame excuses why I couldn’t go.
Work. Family commitments. Babysitting.
Whatever.
Now, I look back and wonder how much differently I would of been if I had gone out, done those things.
Would I be like so many of my friends and be married, or with babies, or like the rest of them and still going out.
Becoming a semi-cougar now that the younger generation have achieved their IDs [and fake IDs]
I am a different person then I was back in day.
I enjoy spending time with my friends. Going to the beach, out to dinner, to the movies – even to bars and cocktail lounges. I still avoid the club scene, I am now too old. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
As long as I feel like I am in control, I am fine.
I am always the designated driver. My car is my security blanket. I always know that if something happens I can retreat there and all will be okay.
At the end of a day/night out, as long as I can come home, to my quiet, darkened house, to my doona and my poodle and my facebook I am happy.
Moderation is the key.
This is my new comfort zone.
As long as I have that, it will be okay.
Confusion April 1, 2010
I am so confused.
Over nothing.
I think.
Nothing seems right.
Nothing is making sense.
Nothing is happening to make me feel this way.
I woke up feeling this way.
I went to bed angry, and depressed, and worthless.
I hate not being in control of my emotions.
I would love to feel actual emotions.
Happiness. Excitement. Love.
If I could change anything I would change that.
I have permanent mood swings, constantly changing.
I know the feelings of sadness, anger and pain all too well.
They are my best frenemies.
Chemical imbalances, restricted upbringing, lack of affection.
Call it what you will, it sucks.
Blame the brain, the parents, the lover.
It still makes no sense.
I wouldn’t wish this disease on my worst enemy.
You don’t know how hard it is to go to sleep not knowing who you will be in the morning.
Makes me not want to…
Somedays.
Over nothing.
I think.
Nothing seems right.
Nothing is making sense.
Nothing is happening to make me feel this way.
I woke up feeling this way.
I went to bed angry, and depressed, and worthless.
I hate not being in control of my emotions.
I would love to feel actual emotions.
Happiness. Excitement. Love.
If I could change anything I would change that.
I have permanent mood swings, constantly changing.
I know the feelings of sadness, anger and pain all too well.
They are my best frenemies.
Chemical imbalances, restricted upbringing, lack of affection.
Call it what you will, it sucks.
Blame the brain, the parents, the lover.
It still makes no sense.
I wouldn’t wish this disease on my worst enemy.
You don’t know how hard it is to go to sleep not knowing who you will be in the morning.
Makes me not want to…
Somedays.
Selfish. March 30, 2010
I am a selfish person.
This is not a major revelation.
Every person is selfish. Regardless of what they say or do, in some way or another they are selfish.
A good friend [thanks to Facebook] posted on her blog about the daily grind.
My daily grind is I get up, I work, I come home, I play with Cocobean or go to the Gym, I chill out.
Some days I go out of a night with friends, drink cocktails, go to the beach, see movies, be silly etc.
My life is so boring to me.
Yes, I have a disposable income.
Responsibilities, but nothing life or death.
It had never occurred to me, prior to now, that my life is desirable to other people.
I hope you can forgive me for flaunting what I thought was a mundane existance.
I would trade with you in a heartbeat. What you have, what you are getting.
Your life means something. You mean something to other people. You are needed. Wanted.
I am none of those things.
I guess you really do need to walk a mile in someone else shoes.
But even then, would you be happy with your new ending? Or would you give it all up to go back to what you originally had?
Are you ever really happy with what you have?
This is not a major revelation.
Every person is selfish. Regardless of what they say or do, in some way or another they are selfish.
A good friend [thanks to Facebook] posted on her blog about the daily grind.
My daily grind is I get up, I work, I come home, I play with Cocobean or go to the Gym, I chill out.
Some days I go out of a night with friends, drink cocktails, go to the beach, see movies, be silly etc.
My life is so boring to me.
Yes, I have a disposable income.
Responsibilities, but nothing life or death.
It had never occurred to me, prior to now, that my life is desirable to other people.
I hope you can forgive me for flaunting what I thought was a mundane existance.
I would trade with you in a heartbeat. What you have, what you are getting.
Your life means something. You mean something to other people. You are needed. Wanted.
I am none of those things.
I guess you really do need to walk a mile in someone else shoes.
But even then, would you be happy with your new ending? Or would you give it all up to go back to what you originally had?
Are you ever really happy with what you have?
The Ruins of Bloggermiss March 27, 2010
Ever wake up not knowing where you are?
I wake up that way every morning.
It’s a feeling that scares me. I don’t belong where I am, but I don’t know how to find what it is that I am constantly looking for, longing for.
I want to feel like I belong. To someone, to something.
Yet, whenever I am close to feeling that way I push that person away, or run away from the situation.
I drive myself insane wanting something that I know will never happen, because I won’t allow it to.
I think I am lacking some crucial strand of chromosomes that enables me to feel or to believe.
Nothing good in my life has ever been consistent.
Something always goes wrong.
It doesn’t have to be something BIG that is wrong, some small minute crack is enough for me to think of something as tarnished and ruin the gleam I thought it held just a few moments prior.
I think I am just ruined.
I wake up that way every morning.
It’s a feeling that scares me. I don’t belong where I am, but I don’t know how to find what it is that I am constantly looking for, longing for.
I want to feel like I belong. To someone, to something.
Yet, whenever I am close to feeling that way I push that person away, or run away from the situation.
I drive myself insane wanting something that I know will never happen, because I won’t allow it to.
I think I am lacking some crucial strand of chromosomes that enables me to feel or to believe.
Nothing good in my life has ever been consistent.
Something always goes wrong.
It doesn’t have to be something BIG that is wrong, some small minute crack is enough for me to think of something as tarnished and ruin the gleam I thought it held just a few moments prior.
I think I am just ruined.
Down, out and rambling. March 19, 2010
There is something going on in my head.
It’s like a private club and the rest of me fails the membership criteria.
I’ve been a dark and somber person most of my life.
I was emo before it was cool. Not the piercings and the fringe emo — but the “emo”tional side of things.
The crying, the sad, the depressing thoughts… all very boring and blah.
Been out of the headspace for 728 days — just under two years ago my beautiful baby girl Shiloh was born.
4 days later followed the birth of Cocobean and those two events changed who I was dramatically.
Their existance made me so full of pride and love and happiness that it scared me.
Never before had I felt such a surge of emotion – it was surreal.
Walking into that hospital room and seeing the plastic cot, I burst into tears before I even laid eyes on the precious bundle that laid inside.
The biggest regret of my life is that I was unable to make it to Melbourne for Shiloh's birth.
I missed alot.
I know I am only her aunt. I know this. But the love I have for those two kids exceeds any emotion I have ever felt.
The protectiveness I feel. The happiness I get when they smile, or say my name.
The hugs, the kisses, the laughter I store it all up and use it when times get hard.
But…
Lately, despite the hugs, and the kisses, and the laughter nothing has been able to pull me out of my slump.
I summed it up pretty well on facebook.
I want to fall down Alice’s rabbit hole and be alone with a bottle of vodka.
Not that this will help whatever issue I have, it will just stop my mind from thinking, from lagging and just be normal drunk for a while and hopefully sober up to be normal.
I JUST WANT OUT!
I know people, one fab lady in particular, who is going through a major struggle right now — and I honestly don’t know how she does it. She has a reason to be upset and to hide from the world and scream and kick and tantrum all she wants. She doesn’t. She gets up every morning, puts on her best happy face, deals with what life has thrown her way and the whole time takes care of a teething baby boy.
Even if the happy face is a mask, and inside she is at breaking point, she doesn’t take it out on those she loves.
This girl is my hero.
I want to learn to hide it. I used to be fantastic at it. No one ever suspected a thing.
Somewhere over the last 2 years I have lost my mask, my shield and it makes coping that much harder. I don’t want to deal with people asking whats wrong with me. As facebook says: I just want to sit in my wrongness and be wrong.
I don’t want people questioning my emotions when I can’t even work them out.
Things are looking up.
I am still tired.
I am still emotional.
I am still in intense pain, physically.
But.
I now have something to look forward to.
Two years ago the birth of two beautiful children saved my life.
In 33 weeks, a third will be arriving and saving me for the second time.
It’s like a private club and the rest of me fails the membership criteria.
I’ve been a dark and somber person most of my life.
I was emo before it was cool. Not the piercings and the fringe emo — but the “emo”tional side of things.
The crying, the sad, the depressing thoughts… all very boring and blah.
Been out of the headspace for 728 days — just under two years ago my beautiful baby girl Shiloh was born.
4 days later followed the birth of Cocobean and those two events changed who I was dramatically.
Their existance made me so full of pride and love and happiness that it scared me.
Never before had I felt such a surge of emotion – it was surreal.
Walking into that hospital room and seeing the plastic cot, I burst into tears before I even laid eyes on the precious bundle that laid inside.
The biggest regret of my life is that I was unable to make it to Melbourne for Shiloh's birth.
I missed alot.
I know I am only her aunt. I know this. But the love I have for those two kids exceeds any emotion I have ever felt.
The protectiveness I feel. The happiness I get when they smile, or say my name.
The hugs, the kisses, the laughter I store it all up and use it when times get hard.
But…
Lately, despite the hugs, and the kisses, and the laughter nothing has been able to pull me out of my slump.
I summed it up pretty well on facebook.
I want to fall down Alice’s rabbit hole and be alone with a bottle of vodka.
Not that this will help whatever issue I have, it will just stop my mind from thinking, from lagging and just be normal drunk for a while and hopefully sober up to be normal.
I JUST WANT OUT!
I know people, one fab lady in particular, who is going through a major struggle right now — and I honestly don’t know how she does it. She has a reason to be upset and to hide from the world and scream and kick and tantrum all she wants. She doesn’t. She gets up every morning, puts on her best happy face, deals with what life has thrown her way and the whole time takes care of a teething baby boy.
Even if the happy face is a mask, and inside she is at breaking point, she doesn’t take it out on those she loves.
This girl is my hero.
I want to learn to hide it. I used to be fantastic at it. No one ever suspected a thing.
Somewhere over the last 2 years I have lost my mask, my shield and it makes coping that much harder. I don’t want to deal with people asking whats wrong with me. As facebook says: I just want to sit in my wrongness and be wrong.
I don’t want people questioning my emotions when I can’t even work them out.
Things are looking up.
I am still tired.
I am still emotional.
I am still in intense pain, physically.
But.
I now have something to look forward to.
Two years ago the birth of two beautiful children saved my life.
In 33 weeks, a third will be arriving and saving me for the second time.
Introduction to the blogging world… March 16, 2010
Anybody can have a blog.
It’s not hard to create one – write a few words and suddenly call yourself a “blogger” like its some kind of respected title.
It’s like what a “writer” was, 15 years ago.
What makes someone a blogger?
Is it anyone with a blog?
Someone paid to write and share their opinions?
Or maybe someone who writes frequently.
There is no real terms to describe what a true blogger is –
and I am sure everyone who has ever had a blog can enter in the debate of what constitutes a “blogger”.
I have a blog.
I update regularly and have a steadily growing reader base.
I am not paid for my opinions, nor would I ever sell out and I am quite certain my ramblings will never earn me a pulitzer.
But you know what?
I blog.
Therefore,
I am blogger.
It’s not hard to create one – write a few words and suddenly call yourself a “blogger” like its some kind of respected title.
It’s like what a “writer” was, 15 years ago.
What makes someone a blogger?
Is it anyone with a blog?
Someone paid to write and share their opinions?
Or maybe someone who writes frequently.
There is no real terms to describe what a true blogger is –
and I am sure everyone who has ever had a blog can enter in the debate of what constitutes a “blogger”.
I have a blog.
I update regularly and have a steadily growing reader base.
I am not paid for my opinions, nor would I ever sell out and I am quite certain my ramblings will never earn me a pulitzer.
But you know what?
I blog.
Therefore,
I am blogger.
anxiety. March 16, 2010
The problem with anxiety is you don’t know how to determine accurately what is happening around you.
At the moment I feel a little abandoned. Feel like I have done something wrong — even though I am not sure what it is I could of done.
Certain people are not answering phone calls, or texts, or facebook messages and it makes me think they hate me.
Deep down, I know they are probably busy but it still plays tricks with my brain.
If it wasn’t for texts and phone calls from a certain male, I would of been sure that it was broken. It’s been pretty quiet ever since I returned home from Melbourne.
I need to see people. Need people to respond to texts. I hate being clingy — I hate being that person, and usually I can avoid becoming it. But this is my last ditch effort to reach out before I go back to my hermit ways.
I worked so hard to try to be social, to see my friends and family on a regular basis. It took a lot of stress and tears on my behalf to be able to break the hold vodka and solitude had on me — but now I know I am slowly drifting back to that place.
This is not supposed to act as a threat. I know people are busy. They have lives to live. As do I. And I certainly do not want the pity vote. I just need to use this space as what it was intended for. Screw the world. This is my blog and I will write what I want, what I feel and what I know.
At the moment I feel a little abandoned. Feel like I have done something wrong — even though I am not sure what it is I could of done.
Certain people are not answering phone calls, or texts, or facebook messages and it makes me think they hate me.
Deep down, I know they are probably busy but it still plays tricks with my brain.
If it wasn’t for texts and phone calls from a certain male, I would of been sure that it was broken. It’s been pretty quiet ever since I returned home from Melbourne.
I need to see people. Need people to respond to texts. I hate being clingy — I hate being that person, and usually I can avoid becoming it. But this is my last ditch effort to reach out before I go back to my hermit ways.
I worked so hard to try to be social, to see my friends and family on a regular basis. It took a lot of stress and tears on my behalf to be able to break the hold vodka and solitude had on me — but now I know I am slowly drifting back to that place.
This is not supposed to act as a threat. I know people are busy. They have lives to live. As do I. And I certainly do not want the pity vote. I just need to use this space as what it was intended for. Screw the world. This is my blog and I will write what I want, what I feel and what I know.
Sex. February 26, 2010
Manhattan for everyone…
I love sex and the city. More than any other tv show. In fact, I would choose it over any other show — hands down, everytime.
The characters, the settings, the storylines — the whole concept is not relateable to my life.
I am not in my thirties, I am not a serial dater, I don’t have a designer dominant wardrobe and I would kill for a single manolo let alone a closet full of them.
What I do have is a group of amazing friends and very open conversations with them about life, sex and everything else in between. Nothing is off topic, we can go from talking about the weather to vadazzaling without an eyelash battered.
My life sure isn’t carries, but in a lot of ways I wish it was. I have the same lack of luck in the love department, I have maxed out credit cards and unruly hair — yet I would swap with her in a heartbeat. There have been days where I felt as if she is my only allie in this world. Days I couldn’t get
out of bed and face the world but the girls where always there for me.
I know it’s a tad deranged — and well, maybe I am a little insane — but I can honestly say my life is better because ofthe show. Sex was always a taboo subject and with my family and peers it still is, but it has opened the floodgates for us to talk to our friends about every aspect, from the boring same old positions to kinky ideas to spice it up.
Partners are nicknamed to avoid embarassment; for both him and her. But nothing else is censored.
For someone who trusts so little it’s amazing the trust I have in my gal pals to share these stories; happy or horror; and for the nerve to do so I have to thank my first gal pals carrie, Samantha and charlotte.
But not Miranda, I don’t think I would like her in the real world. Whinging minger.
I love sex and the city. More than any other tv show. In fact, I would choose it over any other show — hands down, everytime.
The characters, the settings, the storylines — the whole concept is not relateable to my life.
I am not in my thirties, I am not a serial dater, I don’t have a designer dominant wardrobe and I would kill for a single manolo let alone a closet full of them.
What I do have is a group of amazing friends and very open conversations with them about life, sex and everything else in between. Nothing is off topic, we can go from talking about the weather to vadazzaling without an eyelash battered.
My life sure isn’t carries, but in a lot of ways I wish it was. I have the same lack of luck in the love department, I have maxed out credit cards and unruly hair — yet I would swap with her in a heartbeat. There have been days where I felt as if she is my only allie in this world. Days I couldn’t get
out of bed and face the world but the girls where always there for me.
I know it’s a tad deranged — and well, maybe I am a little insane — but I can honestly say my life is better because ofthe show. Sex was always a taboo subject and with my family and peers it still is, but it has opened the floodgates for us to talk to our friends about every aspect, from the boring same old positions to kinky ideas to spice it up.
Partners are nicknamed to avoid embarassment; for both him and her. But nothing else is censored.
For someone who trusts so little it’s amazing the trust I have in my gal pals to share these stories; happy or horror; and for the nerve to do so I have to thank my first gal pals carrie, Samantha and charlotte.
But not Miranda, I don’t think I would like her in the real world. Whinging minger.
Home VS Happiness February 26, 2010
I had a great life.
I moved to Sydney at the ripe old age of nineteen into an apartment on the beach. I spent a small fortune setting it up, just for me. I loved it, loved the freedom and the proximity to the beach and the fact I was finally beginning my life on my own terms.
After nearly two years of living there and working in the city I moved nearly three hours north closer to family after cocobeans birth sent me into a breakdown and I needed my family more than ever. I found a brand new apartment opposite the marina and settled in with a roomate who turned out to be a feral whore — but that’s another blog.
Life just wasn’t working out as I had planned. Working and paying rent and having not even the funds to go out for a few drinks let alone save a deposit for my own home. I was stuck in some kind of rut and beginning to slide back into that dark hole I had only just climbed out of…
I made the decision about a year ago to swallow my pride and let my parents help me out in order to save to fund my dream. It’s not easy to be a happily single girl saving for a home — two wages are really required.
So it’s been a year and one would assume that I would have quite a substantial next egg saves awaiting the choosing of a mortgage and a house …
well, it’s not the case. If anything I am now more in debt then I was a year ago.
I have now become a shopaholic. My hair and nails are done once a month, my car runs on premium and my wardrobe boasts a new addition weekly, at the worst.
I didn’t plan on becoming this way. I have always loved things and I have always been high maintenance but this whole disposable income thing is new to me…
I think I might continue it for a while longer, because,
well,
this witchery skirt is waaaay cute.
Shopping&holidays&pampering&new things make me happy.
I honestly think I just deserve to be happy, at least, for a little while.
I can always ‘grow up’ tomorrow.
I moved to Sydney at the ripe old age of nineteen into an apartment on the beach. I spent a small fortune setting it up, just for me. I loved it, loved the freedom and the proximity to the beach and the fact I was finally beginning my life on my own terms.
After nearly two years of living there and working in the city I moved nearly three hours north closer to family after cocobeans birth sent me into a breakdown and I needed my family more than ever. I found a brand new apartment opposite the marina and settled in with a roomate who turned out to be a feral whore — but that’s another blog.
Life just wasn’t working out as I had planned. Working and paying rent and having not even the funds to go out for a few drinks let alone save a deposit for my own home. I was stuck in some kind of rut and beginning to slide back into that dark hole I had only just climbed out of…
I made the decision about a year ago to swallow my pride and let my parents help me out in order to save to fund my dream. It’s not easy to be a happily single girl saving for a home — two wages are really required.
So it’s been a year and one would assume that I would have quite a substantial next egg saves awaiting the choosing of a mortgage and a house …
well, it’s not the case. If anything I am now more in debt then I was a year ago.
I have now become a shopaholic. My hair and nails are done once a month, my car runs on premium and my wardrobe boasts a new addition weekly, at the worst.
I didn’t plan on becoming this way. I have always loved things and I have always been high maintenance but this whole disposable income thing is new to me…
I think I might continue it for a while longer, because,
well,
this witchery skirt is waaaay cute.
Shopping&holidays&pampering&new things make me happy.
I honestly think I just deserve to be happy, at least, for a little while.
I can always ‘grow up’ tomorrow.
Happy to be Bridget Jones. February 17, 2010
No, I am not single.
But I am not in a lets-get-married-and-have-babies kind of relationship.
In fact, that kind of relationship turns my stomach.
Knots and Nausea.
I don’t DISAGREE with marriage. or Commitment. I just know it is not for me.
I am HAPPY for my friends and family who choose to follow that path, as long as they are happy with it.
My reasoning for this is simple, I am only just beginning to learn who I am, I don’t want to lose sight of that, or change what is destined for me.
I don’t come from a broken home. My parents have been in a loving, stable marriage for 26 years. In fact, they got married for the second time. Yesterday.
I know alot of people, gals and guys, who are in the love with the idea of love, marriage and the baby carriage. I sort of envy them because they want the social “norm”. I don’t find anything comforting about needing a man, or a ring, or a piece of paper to deem myself happy. In fact, I am usually happiest when single.
I find coupledom very suffocating. I know I am a hard person to live with, somedays I want to run away from myself. I am moody, and dark and very often sleep deprived. Caffiene helps.
I don’t wish myself on anybody. I would hate to be with someone like myself. The guy I am seeing is a total sweetheart. He says and does all the right things and I feel like a heartless bitch most of the time because I am not on that level. He deserves someone who wants the same things as him, but strangely enough… he wants me. . . . “Just as I am”.
Personally, I choose Vodka. And Chaka Khan
But I am not in a lets-get-married-and-have-babies kind of relationship.
In fact, that kind of relationship turns my stomach.
Knots and Nausea.
I don’t DISAGREE with marriage. or Commitment. I just know it is not for me.
I am HAPPY for my friends and family who choose to follow that path, as long as they are happy with it.
My reasoning for this is simple, I am only just beginning to learn who I am, I don’t want to lose sight of that, or change what is destined for me.
I don’t come from a broken home. My parents have been in a loving, stable marriage for 26 years. In fact, they got married for the second time. Yesterday.
I know alot of people, gals and guys, who are in the love with the idea of love, marriage and the baby carriage. I sort of envy them because they want the social “norm”. I don’t find anything comforting about needing a man, or a ring, or a piece of paper to deem myself happy. In fact, I am usually happiest when single.
I find coupledom very suffocating. I know I am a hard person to live with, somedays I want to run away from myself. I am moody, and dark and very often sleep deprived. Caffiene helps.
I don’t wish myself on anybody. I would hate to be with someone like myself. The guy I am seeing is a total sweetheart. He says and does all the right things and I feel like a heartless bitch most of the time because I am not on that level. He deserves someone who wants the same things as him, but strangely enough… he wants me. . . . “Just as I am”.
Personally, I choose Vodka. And Chaka Khan
How much can you really know? February 17, 2010
So. I have been thinking.
How can you be sure that you really know a person. It is human nature to lie, cheat and steal.
I’m not talking a grand scale here, but who can honestly admit to never having told a lie, never stealing a glance at an answer or copying homework, and never downloaded a song etc.
I’ve been in my current job for about 19 months. In that time I have met some amazing people, and whilst I don’t see them out of work they do make life a little more bearable when you can bounce off their energy, vent a little and have a bit of a goss. These people know the work me. I can be serious, moody, stressed and sometimes very hyper. I love my job and I love these amazing people.
My question is, whilst I don’t consider these people “friends” they probably know more about me then those I call “friends”, when do you stop calling someone a colleague and begin calling them a friend?
Is a friend measured by how much time you spend with them? If so, my closest friends should, in fact, be merely aquaintances. My best friend, I see very little. I don’t need to see or speak to her everyday — I would love to, but it just doesn’t happen. Again, facebook helps here. But I can go months, years even, and it is like time has stood still since I last saw her. I believe this is the true test of friendship.
Measurement of a friends ability shouldn’t be determined by what they know about you. I can honestly say the only person who knows everything about me is not a friend. She never was. I visited her once — sometimes twice – a week for many, many months. She was a shrink. [A fact that I am not ashamed to admit by the way]
Yet, some of my closest friends don’t even know some of the random facts that make up me, but people on the outer do.
My new goal is to compose a list. Maybe I will make a new page, and add to it whenever I recall some new information, or if I aquire some new random quirk. Even if noone reads it, it will still be a list of my traits, my likes, my hates, everything about me. I am not usually into the airing of all affairs but stuff it — technology is getting so advanced it won’t be long before you can all look up my credit rating…
How can you be sure that you really know a person. It is human nature to lie, cheat and steal.
I’m not talking a grand scale here, but who can honestly admit to never having told a lie, never stealing a glance at an answer or copying homework, and never downloaded a song etc.
I’ve been in my current job for about 19 months. In that time I have met some amazing people, and whilst I don’t see them out of work they do make life a little more bearable when you can bounce off their energy, vent a little and have a bit of a goss. These people know the work me. I can be serious, moody, stressed and sometimes very hyper. I love my job and I love these amazing people.
My question is, whilst I don’t consider these people “friends” they probably know more about me then those I call “friends”, when do you stop calling someone a colleague and begin calling them a friend?
Is a friend measured by how much time you spend with them? If so, my closest friends should, in fact, be merely aquaintances. My best friend, I see very little. I don’t need to see or speak to her everyday — I would love to, but it just doesn’t happen. Again, facebook helps here. But I can go months, years even, and it is like time has stood still since I last saw her. I believe this is the true test of friendship.
Measurement of a friends ability shouldn’t be determined by what they know about you. I can honestly say the only person who knows everything about me is not a friend. She never was. I visited her once — sometimes twice – a week for many, many months. She was a shrink. [A fact that I am not ashamed to admit by the way]
Yet, some of my closest friends don’t even know some of the random facts that make up me, but people on the outer do.
My new goal is to compose a list. Maybe I will make a new page, and add to it whenever I recall some new information, or if I aquire some new random quirk. Even if noone reads it, it will still be a list of my traits, my likes, my hates, everything about me. I am not usually into the airing of all affairs but stuff it — technology is getting so advanced it won’t be long before you can all look up my credit rating…
Dear Uncle Facey… January 29, 2010
So.
A very good facebook friend brought something to light in her blog today, and this I guess is kind of a response to the questions she was asking… or at least how I interpreted her blog.
Facebook came into my life around the time I was leaving school and gaining a life.
I had moved away from my family and new friends, and back to Sydney were I grew up. Only problem was I was, in fact, no where NEAR where I grew up. I was working in the city and living on the beach.
So I had friends from school in Sydney, friends I had made in Newcastle, Family and new friends and all of them were added to Facebook. Even mutual friends soon adorned my page. Pretty soon I had 400+ friends, countless news feeds and LOADS of “Facebook friends”. I thought I was pretty cool.
This friend “collection” just kept continuing, meet new people, add them to Facebook, never see them again.
It gives a false sense of popularity. Not that I ever considered myself to be popular by any means, but it did make me believe I was a more social person than I was. Its okay that I was sitting at home, drinking, watching Sex and the City re-runs (again) because I had 400 friends I could live through… besides Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte are my best friends anyway.
After discussing a work colleagues lack of Facebook (this was a foreign concept to me) she made a great point. We work in a corporate, yet close knit, industry. We go to functions. We network. We meet new people. Yet, we also hang out with our friends, get trashy and record ALL these things on a wall which they can all see.
Basically, your work peers see the drunken trashy you and your friends see the boring corporate stiff you. These two sides should not be seen together. I took this advice onboard and did a thorough clean up. I deleted 327 friends.
I should say “Friends”.
These were people I met through work, at parties, out and about, friends of friends and even some clients – mostly people I had met once, clicked accept and never thought about them again. Yet, they then have access to my whereabouts, what – and who - I am doing and not so flattering tagged images. Not very professional.
Since deleting all these people I am more me. I am more honest. I am more comfortable. I use it to socialise more. I get out of the house more. Facebook is now another option of communication. I can write on a friends wall, invite them to an event and poke fun at pictures, basically just a more detailed text.
Facebook is a part of my day. I look forward to checking it and seeing what other people are up to but I no longer rely on it to LIVE for me.
I do that.
A very good facebook friend brought something to light in her blog today, and this I guess is kind of a response to the questions she was asking… or at least how I interpreted her blog.
Facebook came into my life around the time I was leaving school and gaining a life.
I had moved away from my family and new friends, and back to Sydney were I grew up. Only problem was I was, in fact, no where NEAR where I grew up. I was working in the city and living on the beach.
So I had friends from school in Sydney, friends I had made in Newcastle, Family and new friends and all of them were added to Facebook. Even mutual friends soon adorned my page. Pretty soon I had 400+ friends, countless news feeds and LOADS of “Facebook friends”. I thought I was pretty cool.
This friend “collection” just kept continuing, meet new people, add them to Facebook, never see them again.
It gives a false sense of popularity. Not that I ever considered myself to be popular by any means, but it did make me believe I was a more social person than I was. Its okay that I was sitting at home, drinking, watching Sex and the City re-runs (again) because I had 400 friends I could live through… besides Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte are my best friends anyway.
After discussing a work colleagues lack of Facebook (this was a foreign concept to me) she made a great point. We work in a corporate, yet close knit, industry. We go to functions. We network. We meet new people. Yet, we also hang out with our friends, get trashy and record ALL these things on a wall which they can all see.
Basically, your work peers see the drunken trashy you and your friends see the boring corporate stiff you. These two sides should not be seen together. I took this advice onboard and did a thorough clean up. I deleted 327 friends.
I should say “Friends”.
These were people I met through work, at parties, out and about, friends of friends and even some clients – mostly people I had met once, clicked accept and never thought about them again. Yet, they then have access to my whereabouts, what – and who - I am doing and not so flattering tagged images. Not very professional.
Since deleting all these people I am more me. I am more honest. I am more comfortable. I use it to socialise more. I get out of the house more. Facebook is now another option of communication. I can write on a friends wall, invite them to an event and poke fun at pictures, basically just a more detailed text.
Facebook is a part of my day. I look forward to checking it and seeing what other people are up to but I no longer rely on it to LIVE for me.
I do that.
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