January Jollies

Well hello. Happy Invasion/Survival/Australia/Whatever Day. Personally, I see no cause to celebrate a day on which a bunch of people seeking a better life arrived by boat, stripped the indigenous people of said country of all their rights and yet now have the gall to forcibly deny entry to people seeking a better life who arrive by boat.

But that's just me.

Anyway.

That's not what I wanted to write about today.  I don't know what I wanted to write about today, but I did have a few funny things to share with you (for no reason whatsoever, they just tickled my funny bone).

First up, in response to all this Justin Bieber malarkey, I thought this was the funniest response:

I dont give a shit about Justin Bieber. Call me when Allison Janney is arrested for robbing a bank or something.
— billy eichner (@billyeichner) January 23, 2014

Billy Eichner is the bomb.  And this tickled me no end, especially given I've just finished watching the amazing Allison Janney in Masters of Sex (highly recommend watching it - it's fab) and am currently watching her in Mom.  Bloody brilliant woman. I adore her.

Secondly (and kinda continuing on the theme of what I consider to be the greatest TV show of all time - The West Wing), we have this little gem:

BIG BLOCK OF CHEESE DAY, YOU GUYS!!!  

My head damn nearly exploded when I saw this, and not just because it features my favourite two Joshes (the fictional Lyman and the actual Malina), but because, well... Just get hold of a copy one of the episodes and watch them. They're two of my faves.

My next favourite video of the weekend is this one:

Adam Scott (NOT the golfer) is genius. He's like a nerdy kid who has managed to convince all his nerdy friends to do nerdy stuff like this.

AND IT IS AWESOME.

The cameo by Tam Honks is five seconds of funny and can I just say?  Paul Rudd. That man DOES. NOT. AGE. What is his secret?

I'll leave you now with my final awesome thing of the week, which is this photo:

Nick Offerman and Rob Lowe, in what appears to be a photo snapped between takes filming this scene (which for some reason, I am unable to embed), from this week's Parks & Recreation. They are funny, funny men. 

"Why are you yelling?"
"Tom all put all my records into this rectangle"

So. There you go. A few funnies to tide you over.

Oh and if none of those things put a smile on your face, the fact that Robin Thicke's misogynist pop song, Blurred Lines, failed to even make it into the Hottest 100 should make you chuckle with joy. I am so happy the good listeners of Triple J didn't condone that man's awful attitude towards women.

Enjoy your day off tomorrow! I'll be having a wee sleep in and then spending some time in the sun, I reckon.

x

Regeneration

**SPOILER ALERT!** 

If you've not yet seen the Christmas episode of Doctor Who, read on at your own risk. There are some spoilers. Not that the fact a new Doctor was coming hasn't been news for eons, but I just want to make sure you're warned so you don't yell at me.  Please don't yell at me. I don't cope well when people yell at me.

Right. Now that's out of the way...

I'll freely admit that I've never been a huge fan of Matt Smith as The Doctor. Eccleston I didn't mind... he was kinda smooth and intriguing. Tennant I adored (plenty of evidence for that fact here and here). But I could never quite warm to Smith and so my watching of Doctor Who has been quite patchy the last couple of years (except for eps like Day of the Doctor which brought all of them back).

I DID however, get quite excited by the news that the brilliant and sweary Peter Capaldi would soon be taking control of the TARDIS, so I sat down to watch the Christmas episode with eager anticipation.

Ironically, it was this particular episode which finally allowed me to "get" Matt Smith.  And really, it was all due to his final speech, which I found not only a brilliant summary of The Doctor's journey, but also a very poignant reminder of everyone's journey through life... and the importance of moving on but never forgetting.  

In case you missed it, this was the speech:

“It’s started. I can’t stop it now, this is just the reset. A whole new regeneration cycle. Taking a bit longer. Just breaking it in. It all just disappears doesn’t it, everything you are gone in a moment like breath on a mirror? Any moment now, he’s a comin’... The Doctor... And I always will be.  

But times change and so must I. Amelia! The first face this face saw. 

We all change when you think about it. We are all different people all through our lives and that’s ok, that's good, you gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be. I will not forget one line of this. Not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me.”

Enough said really.

So well done, Matt Smith. I might have to go back and revisit some of your tenure. And welcome Peter Capaldi. The uttering of "KIDNEYS!" as his first line and the confirmation that he's keeping his Scots accent makes me hope we're in for a lot of fun with number-whatever-he-is. 12? 13? Fucked if I know.

Resolutions, circa 2014

My gorgeous friend (and creative cluster buddy) Debs is currently on a six week skiing sojourn with her wonderful hubby (also a great friend), in Saas Fee, Switzerland. I'm quite envious, especially as she has embarked upon a blog to document her time over there and is very prompt about updating it on a daily basis, complete with amazing photos of the beautiful scenery.

Check it out here if you're so inclined.  

On New Year's Eve she wrote a wonderful post about letting go of excess baggage, which I found quite illuminating.  Read it here. Her penultimate paragraph, in particular, really resonated with me:

"As the fireworks start to go off here in Saas Fee, and BD and I settle in for a party for two (with party food too), I have only one resolution. In 2014 I am going to do what I love. Period. I have one life, and I intend to live it. Baggage free. 

If you have pissed me off, I let you go with as much love as I can muster. If there’s a possession that I don’t absolutely dig, it’s going to the charity shop. At work, my best has to be good enough, and if it isn’t then I lovingly bow out and trust my clients will find someone who is a better fit."

I haven't made any resolutions this year - I find when I do I usually don't achieve more than half of them and then spend most of the year berating myself over the ones that I didn't achieve. 

But I love that one resolution of Debs' and I think it's a fabulous one for me to adopt, so I am.

2014 is the year of me doing what I love and ridding myself of excess baggage. Period.

What about you?

x

Clearly, It's* Not Going To Happen

But I'm not going to beat myself up over it. I've been doing other stuff. Not all of it important, not all of it related to the book I'm writing, not all of it procrastination. But stuff.

And stuff can just get in the way of doing what you think you 'should' do.  Or at least it does for me.

For a change, this NYE, I am going to a party. A house party, so no ferals in public to deal with, but still a change from the last few years of 'hide away from the world and ring in the New Year solo'.  Of course, because I'm going to a house party, I need to take some food, therefore I need to go to the supermarket.  Now. Because it's 3pm already and I need to be at the party around 6.30pm and I have  a bundle of stuff to do first.

I would apologise for not writing a longer post, but I doubt I have any readers left on this blog anyway, so really, who would I be apologising to? Myself?

But just in case, Happy New Year all. May 2014 be everything you wish it to be and then some. And if bad shit happens, well then, don't let it get you down and just apply the Yazz Principle.**

See you in 2014!


xx



* 'It' being my target of 52 blog posts for the year.
** The 'Yazz Principle' of course being 'The Only Way Is Up'.

Inevitable

OK, let's just accept that the magic number of 52 blog posts in 2013 is not going to happen. I last posted on October 19. Today is December 4. 

That's ok. I can handle that. Only because I've been busy on a book. 31,000 words worth of busy. 

That's probably the amount of words in additional blog posts needed to reach the target, right?

I'm going to go with yes on that.

I also finished my old job and started a new one. 

Huzzah. 

I am going back to the old job briefly over the next couple of weeks though, to earn a bit of extra dosh to compensate for the fact that my new job is making me take a 5 week (unpaid) break over Christmas/New Year.

Boo.

On the upside, as of next Friday (ominously, the 13th?) I will have plenty of time to do all those things I've been putting off doing all year. Like writing. And sewing. And painting furniture. And sorting out my superannuation.

You know, fun stuff.

And maybe even a little more blogging.

Maybe.

I don't want to get anyone's hopes up - least of all my own.

x

Shrinking Women

For the last year or so, I've been receiving weekly emails from Upworthy - a website dedicated to sharing important stuff and helping it go viral. Some of the things they share with me I glance at, some I don't even bother with, but occasionally something they've posted grabs me by the throat (metaphorically speaking), shoves me against the wall and says "listen to this - this is you".

This is one of those posts.

The video below is of Lily Meyers, a student in the US who was a contestant in a slam poetry competition. Her story has so many parallels to my own that it's almost frightening.  Except the mother drinking wine bit. The Mater hasn't touched a drop of alcohol since she was in her early 20s.  But that's telling in itself, I guess.

Anyway. I wish I'd been as clued in and articulate at Lily's age. My life might've turned out slightly differently.

The Odds Are...?

Right.

Let's start with the positives.  

I'm already up seven (this makes eight) blog posts on last year's pathetic effort. That's good.  That's encouraging.

However, you may remember my post of 30 December 2012, in which I stated:

Will also set a goal for 52 blog posts in 2013.  That's one a week.  Surely that's manageable. 

And the subsequent posts, in February and July, in which I lamented (and berated myself for) my seeming inability to work towards achieving this goal. 

We're now mid-way through October. Just two and a half months to go in 2013, with almost 20 blog posts to go.

Can I do it?  Of course I can.

Will I do it?

That remains to be seen.

Let's hope so.  Being off the facebook has certainly freed up some time for me (although I am presently spending a great portion of that time giving my living room a makeover).

Place your bets now, ladies and gents. 

Discombobulated

discombobulate
Pronunciation: /ˌdɪskəmˈbɒbjʊleɪt/
verb
[with object] humorous, chiefly North American

• disconcert or confuse (someone)
  
  

I'm feeling just a little discombobulated at present. Mainly in the area of relationships ("Heh. That's nothing new", I hear you smirk). 

Let's just jump right in with some examples, shall we?

I said hello to a colleague tonight as we were all exiting the auditorium after seeing a show. She was talking to someone, but had made eye contact with me, so I said hello and asked her how she enjoyed the production... I didn't mean to interrupt her conversation, but she'd made the initial eye contact, so I was only being polite. Her response was quite cold and dismissive. I'm sure she didn't mean to be, but that's how it felt. I apologised for interrupting, but there was no response - she just continued her conversation and walked off.

Discombobulating.

The friend I went to see the show with (who I used to spend a great deal of time with) has been quite distant of late, especially when we're around his work colleagues. We attended an industry function together last week and when his colleagues turned up, I felt like I was in the way and he wanted me gone. I felt like that again tonight, like he couldn't wait to get rid of me.

Discombobulating.

Another friend, who I met up with last week, spent most of our couple of hours together complaining about the clinginess of one of her fellow playgroup mums. When we parted, I suggested we make arrangements in the next few weeks to catch up again, but she dismissed me with a wave of the hand and "whenever - we'll talk", which left me feeling like I was an intrusion in her life and she couldn't be bothered with me.

Discombobulating.

I conducted a little social experiment a couple of weeks back. I was in Sydney and having a catch up with a group of old friends and I decided I would only talk about myself if I was asked a direct question. I wouldn't offer any information unless I was asked and even then, I would only stick to answering the question. Instead, I would spend my part of the conversation asking questions of them, to find out more about what had been happening in their lives and just wait and see if they asked any questions of me. 

Apart from the beginning of the afternoon, when the friend who'd organised the get-together turned up first, enabling us to have a brief chat before everyone else arrived; not a single question was asked of me the entire time, other than "do you want another drink?". No one else asked me how I was, how I was enjoying living in Melbourne, what I'd been up to, how work was... nothing. They talked endlessly about their lives, their kids, their careers... there were no lulls in conversation, it was just all about them.  I found it massively discombobulating and has led me to believe that either: (a) I must talk about myself too much when I've been out with them previously, so they're sick of me; or (b) I must not be worth bothering to enquire after.

Since I've been off Facebook  I've barely heard from some of my (so-called) friends.  The ones who keep in actual touch are (sadly) few and far between and not really who I expected to. This is quite sobering, in that I do feel a little as though all the people I thought were good friends, couldn't actually give a flying monkeys about me.

Really discombobulating.

God that all sounds so depressing.  Someone smack me around the head and tell me to snap out of it. Please. 

Look, I guess it is a little depressing and I think I'm entitled to feel discombobulated and hurt and slighted. That's ok. As long as I don't dwell on it.  Because really, the people who have kept in touch are clearly the ones I need to appreciate more and focus my energies on.  

And I need to remember: reason, season, lifetime.

The reason and seasons are plentiful, but the lifetimes are rare and need nurturing. That's what I need to focus on.

On that note... bedtime.

x

Rioting Teens

It's Melbourne Festival time again, but this year I haven't been quite as enthused as I have been in previous years. Which is kind of dumb, seeing as one of my closest mates here in Melbourne is the head of ticketing, so I have access to a range of freebies!  There are really only a handful of shows I want to see, which is a first for me in an arts festival.

However, tonight I DID see one of the shows I was really excited about - Teenage Riot, by the amazing Belgian theatre company, Ontroerend Goed.  I've known these guys for a while - I saw the first work in this trilogy (Once And For All We're Gonna Tell You Who We Are So Shut Up And Listen) at Edinburgh Festival in 2008 and was blown away. These teenagers were loud, opinionated, brave, daring, unapologetic, savvy, scary and a million other adjectives I would NEVER have used on myself at that age. Then, about six months later, while working at Sydney Festival before moving down to Melbourne, I got a chance to work with them on one of their adult works - Smile Off Your Face, where they sat 'audience' members in wheelchairs, bound their hands together, blindfolded them and wheeled them through a full sensory experience. It was one of the most gob-smackingly incredible experiences of my life. To this day, I don't think I've seen/experienced anything (in an artistic/theatrical sense) which could top it.


Anyway.  Tonight was Teenage Riot. The sequel to OAFAWGTYWWASSUAL (yeah, I could cut and paste, but why do that when it's fun to type a seemingly random combination of letters?!).  Next week is the final part of the trilogy, All That Is Wrong, which looks just as incredible.

So what is it about these shows that's so amazing? I don't think I can condense it down to a simple answer. There is nothing even remotely simple, or even explainable, about this company's work. They push boundaries, they step across lines, they throw things (metaphorically and sometimes literally) in your face.  They challenge you. They make you think. They make you question.  Especially these kids.  They really made me question my place in the world and the world I will one day leave behind, but they do it in a way that is not overly accusatory or preachy.  It's a very fine line they tread, but they do it so well and so powerfully.

"I look at you and I don't see an example. I see a warning."

Somewhere along the line, I've become the adult that these teenagers talk about. I don't feel like it. I'm sure a lot of times I don't act like it. But I am. And that's a pretty sobering (and scary) thought.

If you're in Melbourne over the next three nights, I highly recommend you try and see this show. It's not expensive ($49 for a full price ticket) and will not only make you think, but genuinely entertain you.  

Oh and if you do see it, let me know. We can discuss the worm, the tornado and the twizzler. Holy crap, but I was impressed by the twizzler.  Find me a guy who's willing do that for me and I'll be forever in your debt.

One Meaningless Life...

Don't worry, the content isn't as dire as the title suggests.  It's just that's the line that stuck with me.

"It's an incredibly exciting thing, this one, meaningless life of yours. Good luck."

I do so love Tim Minchin. He speaks sense.



(And he's a genuinely nice bloke. I can attest to that - I've met him on a few occasions.)


Watch. Enjoy.