Musings of a mute

It's funny the simple things we can take for granted, and don't realise how important they are to us until we have to go without them.

For me, this time around, I lost my voice. Well actually, it was kind of taken from me in an operation which I have been needing for a while...not only did they take out the pseudo cyst which was preventing my singing from improving and making my voice weary (highly undesirable for someone who wants to sing and speak for a living) but a large quantity of my savings and the ability to communicate was also taken.

I had mentally prepared myself for the 3 days silence I had to endure as part of the recovery, my friends and family were in the know. I was going to build a fort of silence in my apartment but had Christmas shopping to do. I did not prepare myself for how much it would affect my livelihood. Talking and making noise is one of the things I'm best at. I'm that person who has banter with the barista, talks to old ladies on the tram, and always apologises if I bump someone on the street. My usual witty comments don't have as much effect when written down and read 2 mins after they should have been made!

I now know how babies feel when they want so many things but can't communicate it. But unlike the babies, I couldn't cry as loud as I could to get it. Being powerless and fragile is so much harder when you can't even cry about it properly. 

I tried though. In my usual form, in public. (I have this habit of having colossal dramatic meltdowns worse than any American Idol finalist in public)

Yes, Southbank and Southern Cross station got to witness yours truly almost having an annuerism trying to silent cry. There was snotty, mascara and saliva streaked me with a constipation face and the inability to sigh shaking fists and going as red as the lipstick halfway down my chin trying to get home after throwing myself in the deep end and going to an event that wasn't really mute-friendly.

I can laugh about it now (silently) and I hope you can too, but at the time the idea of a polar bear dying was funnier than what I was going through.

I have been fortunate enough to encounter many kind souls who were really patient with my notepad and whiteboard scribbles, some were caught really off guard and wouldn't speak or whispered. Some spoke in broken English as if I couldn't understand. They looked as ridiculous as I did pointing and flapping and giving thumbs up. Several of my friends recieved blunt txt messages when they absent mindedly called me to see how I was going....

One lady got really grumpy at me in the pool changing room for putting my bags near hers. I just looked at her. When she came back from changing I handed her a solem note "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too" Boy she felt bad. 

I haven't spoken yet. I tried to do a sneaky hum before but my chords don't know what to do. I was going to ask them to put in extra robo-chords so I can communicate on the frequencies only dogs can hear. Who knows..My first words are going to be to one of my best friends when I get back to New Zealand in a few hours.

I haven't seen her for a year, so I guess I'll be speechless.

Jj

Resilience through the Rain- don't let your dreams be dampened!

Living in foreign countries and all the dance and gymnastics training has taught me resilience, however this week I found myself teetering in tantrum territory more than once.

Riding a bicycle as transport has it's perks- no parking boundaries, a chance to be fit in the open air and explore whilst getting from A(partment) to B(icyle destination of choice)
However in Melbourne with it's weather having as much predictability as what is actually in a chicken nugget, keeping warm/cool/dry/alive can be difficult.

En route when the weather be crazy I actually consider searching for a place to dig a bunker and wait for emergency services.That and I've also wondered if I have cycled through some sort of apocalyptic porthole where every 2km is a different season.

This week, my nerves were tested as I was caught in a downpour that even ducks would try to dodge. On two separate days. I knew I shouldn't have played "I miss the rain down in Africa" on repeat!
Initially it was fun, like being in a Ricky Martin music video. 

Then it got to the rain coming from all directions like it did for Forrest Gump in Vietnam. Could not see, could not feel my feet, and could not think how I was going to get through my massive day that required me to be riding dry for a large portion of it. Upon arriving at my meeting, the puddle at my feet and temper swelled. The only thing that stopped me from having a conniption was the voice in my head saying "don't let this dampen your spirits"
No pun intended; I was dripping not damp.

Trivial times like these can send us lucky first-world dwellers into a flurry of furore. Running out of toilet paper, plastic forks breaking in your take away salad, and getting rained on aren't as bad as some of the things other people in the world go through daily, but our incubated controlled environment allows us to forget. 

So, the thought that there were many people far worse off than me, and thanks to hair dryers, hand dryers and a fair amount of tissues, I was able to absorb away the anger.

The American Psychological Association suggests  "10 Ways to Build Resilience"

1. maintaining good relationships with close family members, friends and others;
2. to avoid seeing crises or stressful events as unbearable problems;
3. to accept circumstances that cannot be changed;
4. to develop realistic goals and move towards them;
5. to take decisive actions in adverse situations;
6. to look for opportunities of self-discovery after a struggle with loss;
7. developing self-confidence;
8. to keep a long-term perspective and consider the stressful event in a broader context;
9. to maintain a hopeful outlook, expecting good things and visualizing what is wished;
10. to take care of one's mind and body, exercising regularly, paying attention to one's own needs and feelings.

I smiled when I realised in this certain situation, it was a good reason to have two coffees- I was fufilling step 5. May have over done it somewhat when the caffeine left me more wired that the scrapings of singlet-festival-nappy-faketan-wearing-oopsie look at my muscles-my shirt just fell off people who were loitering around after Sereosonic. 

But anyways, the tantrums I managed to turn to twitches made me realise I really need to invent a gazebo to attach to my bike. Also to remember that rain is a good thing- at least it will make sure our glasses stay half full.

And when your glass is half full you are always hydrated enough to bounce back.

Jj

Night-Noodle Markets. How we all sucked

What is long, wet, and drips down your chin?
Noodles!
The Melbourne Night Noodle Market is now over, and if you missed out, this blog is going to have you slapping your thigh in frustration and hopefully leave your mouth watering with the sensation of chilli. And lime. And cider and icecream.




How do you drown a Hipster?

In the mainstream. 

I'm not sure if there were many authentic hipsters there (but really, classifying an authentic hipster is about as easy as counting the shag in a shag-pile bathmat) but I realised how lucky I am to live in such a hive of a city with many a different buzz..... and from the look of the people there; a whole lot 'a honey. It was like being at a music festival, people were sitting around drinking, laughing, wearing flowing dresses, hats and boss boots. It was a photo-bomber's fantasy as there were selfies and hashtags flying around every group we passed, and a nut-allergists' nightmare with all the satay chicken skewers, chicken cashew and kung pao shrimp.

The Danes have a phrase "madglad" (pronounced "mell glell") which means food happy, or happy for food. That was us. It was everyone. The atmosphere was scented with people getting to know each other better and feeling that frisky buzz summer brings. The heated evening air stirred with the heat coming from the various woks and steam baskets, simmered smiles amongst the chili-infused chats. What's more the atmospheric lanterns and fairy lights made it feel like it was out of a movie rather than a park by the Yarra. 

I met some fantastic people who's banter was as good as the pork buns and were prawn-cracker-crack-up hilarious. What's more they joined in the "I've eaten too much chili and have pho and slobber on my chin" dance, because eating a pho, laksa or soup with lots of chili is like a meal, facial and workout in one. You are left full, sweating and have had your face in steam for about 30 mins. Makes a great reason to find more drinks and consume them like a monkey. (note the high elbow and thumb wrap)





Sometimes, in our fast paced- no carbs after five- no cider on a school night- no sitting on the ground and not abiding by the 10-second-rule world; we need Noodles. Whether you are a Mi-goreng, Maggi or My Thai man, these wet long stringy things remind us that it is ok to suck. 

Suck up your noodles I mean.

Pillow talk and Retail Therapy

According to my new horoscope app, Jonathan Cainer, which does a personal profile according to your horoscope and is uncannily accurate for me, as an Aries my ideas are not the only things that can come and go in a hurry- sometimes my moods are just as mecurial; like one moment I'm secretly seething (especially when HANGRY) the next moment perfectly poised. You can usually tell though as, according to the app, I rarely hide my feelings.

Hmmm, well I'm not really sure what I make of the whole horoscope hullabaloo, but what I have just realised is that when you feel like the sky is falling, build a pillow house.

Whilst most of my blogs are usually more upbeat than Katy Perry's new album, like many of us,  I have dark days where you just don't feel on your 'A' game, and you aren't completely sure what it is that has you wanting to sit on the bench. On this day, it was at that stage where there was so much to do and think so I just took a nap. 
Seeking the sanctuary of the pillows I searched the back of my mojo-less mind to find what was going to help me get back into the motivated mind. So I built a pillow house. Better than chocolate, it gave me physical comfort and was almost so fun I didn't want to leave. It was my soft place blocking out everyone and everything else that was bringing me down. Facing the day was easier after burying my face in these cloth marshmallows.

I guess the retail therapy also helped a little. A smidge. A morsel. A Brobdingnagian amount actually.

Thank you Nike for being my shoulder to buy on.

I am ready to walk the walk thanks to the boots I also bought. (They match my pajamas perfectly as I write this)

And the '3am Notepad' from kikki.K has been hearing my heartnotes. 

I am not advising or recommending one can swipe away sad, mad or bad moods with credit cards. I guess finding the absurdity amongst the misery and calamity is what helped me, and suggest you give it a go.

“One is always willfully absurd.... If one does not say silly things with a purpose, then he is merely an idiot.” 

― Galen Beckett, The House on Durrow Street

It's not dumb to be glum. Just find the fun in the glum.

Jj

What car rides, fires and spas have in common.

"That's going straight to my blog!"

Was my line that reverberated through the metro today. Oh, was it ever a fist pump moment. After having Western movie-style stand off with the Myki (electronic ticket) machine; it reminding me to "remember the 3 T's", me looking at it with contempt thinking of what new excuse I can come up with for not having a ticket (The ratio of fines I have talked my way out of exceeds the amount of reminder notices I have received for the ones unpaid) 

The machine beat me, I decided to buy one and touch on, instead of being a travel ninja and fare evading.

As soon as I minded the gap I was asked to produce this shiny new Myki by a mufti transport officer. They're the toothache of police coz you don't see them until they cause you pain. When I exclaimed how stoked I was that I'd let the machine win he said "it's easy if you do the right thing".....

See that's a tough one.

"The right thing" is different to many people. Some say it can change in different situations, or times....such as washing your morning Jasmine green tea down with vodka probably is not 'the right thing'.

But washing your evening Long Island iced tea down with vodka is.

When the likes of #justsayn #YOLO and #sorrynotsorry becoming as common as chai lattes in some social circles, "the right thing" is really just another one of those Blurred Lines. 

This is not the can of worms I want to open on here as I have concluded that there are certain places or situations there the discussions about "what is what" in life are much better suited. 

Long car rides

Open fires

Sunsets

Whilst painting a wall/building a fence

Under the stars

and strangely, spa baths

These things bring back fond memories of profound theories and some stories so scary. Looking through history all the wives tales were told over the sink and family legends and history around the fire. I guess for us now the lack of distractions and singular point of focus without forced eye contact (the road, the fire, the wall etc) is what makes us relaxed and open to trust and talk.

Also, there aren't many easy escapes or distractions in these situations, and if things don't want to be discussed; staring silently at the stars or relaxing in the spa are perfectly acceptable, unlike having a deep conversation in the kitchen in that 5 minutes between finishing breakfast and leaving the house.

As individual we can have these places which are like our chamber of secrets; where we go to reflect and share all our worries. I was talking to a friend about this and we could both name actual places which we sought confidence in. 

It's pretty special isn't it?

In our world where there are endless clairvoyants, psychologists and self help books, a yarn over an open fire or daily walks by the river can make us think and make us happy.

Here I am writing the end of this on the train, and am lucky enough to have the chirpiest driver who called it a "Metro mystery tour"

I wonder where his thinking place is....

Jj

Sun's out, Clothes off!

I live in Melbourne. It's been voted the most livable city for 3 years in a row, yet everyone who lives or has lived here will probably say the climate is about as predictable as as the next topic of Jenna Marbles' weekly YouTube videos.

For my mum and dad and everyone else reading this who doesn't know who Jenna Marbles is, this means unpredicatable.
Between writing the first sentence of this post, answering a txt message, and having 2 sips of coffee; it's gone from raining and windy, to 30 seconds of sunshine, to awkward grey.

“Everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything about it.”
― Mark Twain   

 

 

After living in New Zealand, England, Denmark and now Melbourne (where you don't need a summer/winter wardrobe but a utility belt that can change from a snow suit to a swim suit in the push of a button), I have adopted a "sun's out; clothes off" policy.

And this policy was in full swing last weekend.

Another thing which was in full swing was the toilet door at St Kilda beach when my friend walked in on someone mid-business. What's weird about it (other than the fact that it's always a weird embarassing situation) was that there was a guy standing outside the door as if 'keeping watch.' We weren't actually sure if he was friends with the poor woman caught weeing, but she got pissed off (pun intended) the she was traumatically interrupted taking a tinkle (obvs) and he got pissed off that she didn't lock the door: saying "Man, who does that?!"

We all agreed. Who does that!! There aren't many sane ways to justify leaving the public toilet door unlocked, unless you are in one of those fancy electric robo-loos that plays music and might open accidentally if you go infront of the wrong motion sensor.

Oooh, so now outside the window it's gone to what could be seen as sun or just a really harsh glare. Either way, sunglasses are required, but also is the combo of gumboots, a dress and a fur coat. If only those zip-off cargo pants Germans wear backpacking weren't so unflattering.
The good weather came back on Tuesday which was Melbourne Cup day; so that at least those who were drunken and dishevelled by 4pm weren't damp, drunken, dishevelled or drowning. I celebrated with a BBQ and an epic game of catch that went from being played with one football to two footballs, a frisbee, a vortex, a sandal, a bottle, a sausage, and seagulls- who look like frisbees but don't quite land the same.
And what was so fantastic was that we didn't have to suddenly don jackets, or start digging a bunker to wait for the monsoon to stop. It was even so warm that when a friend 'fell' in the Yarra River, he was almost dry by the time the signs of infection from the dirty water started showing.

But really, last weekend was so wonderful that is makes a day like today that little bit more painful, or an even better reason to stay inside and watch downloaded tv series and eat Nutella out of the jar.  
Then again perhaps not because by the time you reach the bottom of the jar it will be bikini time and you might not feel comfortable enough to follow the "sun's out, clothes off" policy, or your post Nutella-bottom might accidentally set off a motion sensor of a robo-loo and piss a few people off. Then you'll know urine trouble.

Eww.

Jj

 





A Birthday collab-a-blog

So this is my first colabb-a-blog.

Basically I had a terrific weekend celebrating the birthday of a woman I am truly lucky to call a friend. She has a blog too- http://dailymewz.blogspot.com.au/
And basically we have decided to collab-a-blog, I'm gonna write my bit, she's going to write hers, and I imagine we will share each other's to our respective peeps.

Birthdays for me as a kid in the 90's were always about fizzy drink, games, presents and costumes. This was before pintrest, #hashtags or group threads on iMessage, yet  parents were somehow all informed on how parties worked and made cool as games and creative cakes with barbies or lego sticking on them (which often got ingested by a younger sibling and everyone was sent home, then the birthday child with a rash around their mouth from pink lemonade would sing "it's my party I can cry if I want to, as they threw the wrapping paper around.)  

Although some similar shenanigans might still occur on our adult birthdays, I guess they have become less and less of a big deal. It's often something people might fear or want to pretend is not happening; some people get all weird when you don't make a fuss, or even weirder when you do. 

As we get older, fairy parties become fishing trips, bowling birthdays relocate to burlesque bars, pool parties exchanged for paintball and passion pop. Luckily for me, this friend had a dance party, in an actual studio. Though instead of Holly Hiphop or endless games of musical statues, we, a room full of her friends being professional dancers and entertainers, had an absolute ball. Followed by a beverage after, of course.


When out having said beverages; the dancing did not stop...in fact it got crazier.
The bouncers and probably everyone in the bar, and on Chapel Street for that matter, were very entertained by the fist pumps, thrusts, shimmies and head rolls that were spinning around more than Kylie Minogue. It was just like the way when we were kids that someone's dad would come in wearing a gorilla costume, or pick everyone up on his shoulders and we would all get so excited and squeal with delight and spin around in circles till we fell down. The birthdays then were about joy. Not selfies, or spa package goodie bags. We were feeling so much joy dancing at that point it was special to share it in a way that also made me awkwardly sweaty and inappropriately guzzle my snakebite (the raspberry lemonade for grown ups.)

So I guess the point I'm trying to make in my 2 cents of this collab-a-blog is, like so many other things that change as we get older, birthdays are certainly one of them, and the one that possibly is the clearest marker. Whether it was celebrated with an egg and spoon race, or an eggs benedict champagne breakfast, the point is that it is celebrated. Because being born is a pretty awesome thing. Getting older and reflecting on your life and celebrating it with the people who made you you are pretty awesome too. 

Wrapping this thing up is more awkward than gift wrapping a dvd in a way to make it a suprise. Let's just see what my collab-a-blog buddy has to say....

Jj

Fist pumps of Positive Thinking

The power of positive thinking, "The Secret" and welcoming the abundance of the Universe is a concept that gets many people as stirred up as my sock drawer on a Monday morning.
It's one of those ideas which separates the squares from the squiggles in society.

In a nutshell, this whole way of thinking is based on the Law of Attraction:
"If I put out positivity, positive things will happen to me"

And this can also be applied to specifics:
"If I imagine a tall, attractive man, who rides a silver fixie bike, plays social indoor netball, has great taste in music and a pet Airedale Terrier named Albus, one will come to me"

I don't know if I have been imagining hard enough on that one, but if you see me walking around with a clenched face resembling a dried up piece of ginger, that is probably me working on it.

Nevertheless, I have consciously applied 'The Secret' and it has saved me several times.....

Left my camera on the roof of the car and drove off at Green Lake in Rotorua.
Got it back.
17kg excess luggage when I moved to Melbourne.
Flew with that
iPhone fell out when I showed appreciation for the lushly maintained grass (by rolling around) at Flemington Racecourse.
Returned, not a scratch.
Bag broke and wallet fell out at the tram stop.
Retrieved, all intact. 
(the person who found my wallet messaged me on Facebook, no bull shoes, I told myself this was going to happen)

Each time, I did not doubt for one second, think about buying a new one, cancel credit cards or tell anyone I had lost it. 
In my minds eye, I saw myself with my looking at the pictures on my camera. Saw myself walking through security of the airport pretending my overweight bag was not cutting the circulation off my arm. Imagined all the text messages I was going to have and the selfies I was gonna take when I got my phone back. Imagined opening my wallet and counting my coins.

This is how this way of thinking works.
If you go through the day thinking you are tired, you will feel tired.

If you wake up, find a fistful of positivity and give it a pump, you will feel ready to take on the world.

Just make sure you don't accidentally fist pump into your partner sleeping next to you.

"You get out what you put in" 
"You get in what you put out"
Same words, different order- but if you think about it, it makes sense for those times you have shocking days with one bad thing after another. Your alarm doesn't work, you get a flat tyre, rip your pants while trying to fix it, show up late for work with ripped pants so get a bollocking. You are more than mildly peeved. When ordering coffee in this peeved tone, the barista gets peeved and burns the milk. You burn your mouth, the coffee tastes as bad as you look, and you don't even get a stamp on your loyalty card. Then you are crookshanks grumpy and shaking your fist at the world like a villain from Scooby-Doo does at 'those meddling kids.'
And who do you thank? No one. You blame everything else.

Thank the Universe unendingly for all the uhmazing things uhround you. 
 (And thank whoever returns camera, phone, wallet, doesn't burn milk, invents stretchy pants and makes sure you wake up with a fist pump)

And I thank you for reading this, as hopefully you had as much fun reading it as I did writing.

Yay everything! *pumps fist*

Jj

A blog about not blogging.

The last time I missed a week and got the dates of this blog out of kilter, I wrote a poem. (See "A Poem." 8 August)

And now the same situation is sticking to my mind worse than peanut butter to the roof of my mouth. (Sorry to all the Arachibutyrophobes reading this.)

So what are the reasons for this untimely upset? 

Well, being in Tonga two weeks ago gave me so many wonderful experiences I don't know where to start writing about them. Hopefully the memories won't go away as quickly as my mojito/mosquito bites did.

Then the whole thing was overshadowed by having to go to Sydney to be in a reality T.V show, which, alongside giving me great exposure and almost a fantastic public humiliation; sucked the wit out of me through a curly straw. I now feel as funny as a salt shaker.

Boring as a bath mat

A frozen yoghurt is 10 times more entertaining than me, even before the topping.

All the one liners I used to say have now become 'one lamers.' You know that dissappointed feeling you get when you order sticky date pudding and it's really dry and the icecream/cream to pudding ratio is all out of balance?
 That is how I feel about not having written this blog to a proper time frame for the last three weeks.

A large quantity of women stress about stressing. 

That's what this is about.A blog about not blogging.
Since this 15 seconds of fame, I have got about 20 more followers on twitter (fist pump for the epic win), so life has had to be summed up in 140 characters or less.  When creativity has been low; 'retweet' has been the way to go.

I have been staring blankly mid-conversation; knowing that there is something mildly humorous or ironic I could say, but my brain was barren and the tip of my tongue was as sharp as a basketball hoop.

"Sharp as a basketball hoop?" Oh, Joana, you really have lost it.

Which is why I have been keeping away from my keyboard.

I have thought about writing something profound, about the lessons I learnt and the journey through the rehearsal period of the show, how this really has shown me what area I want to work in etc, and how lucky I was to be working with such a creative, funny and inspirational person. But then I remembered that I am no-longer on the show, do not need a backstory, and already had one moulten 'meltdown' of mixed emotions more than is necessary for a maiden like myself. Fortunately it happened off camera.

"The talent show took my mojo."

I can see it in headlines now.

What am I saying?

At this rate, with the amount I have been 'not blogging' the chances of my writing going further than a tweet or #extralonghashtagbecausesayingthingsinahashtagmakesthemsassier

are diminishing.

Really, the only way I can stop blogging about not blogging is to stop.

Full stop.

.

Jj

Just waiting for a bus..

When I started this blog, I didn't think it was solely going to be based on travel, yet at this stage, a fair percentage of my posts are about episodes and adventures in foreign lands.

People say 'life is not a destination, it's a journey' and for me it has definitely been a special one, not only because I have got to see and do some magical things, but whether my journey was to the supermarket or Spain, I have learnt all kinds of lessons that if I was going to try and describe would be harder than trying to smell the colour 7....

So rather than go through moment of 'you had to be there' moment, I will break the last 4 days in Tonga (an country comprising of many islands in the South Pacfic) down into posts about what I have found on this island and the treasures it will teach me. 

Right now, I'm waiting at the fale kaloa for the bus. I have been here for 20 mins and the uncertainty of whether it will actually come is rising.

If I had been waiting for a bus in a city for 20 mins, I prob would have gone to find coffee, then be on my iPhone checking various social networks. Here, it would be more likely for me to find a rooster dancing with a pig than a soy latte.

But for the first time in a long time, I can just sit and listen and see. Open my eyes and my mind to the palm trees blowing, roosters, dogs and pigs roaming and making various noises, the laughs of the locals sauntering slowly down the street, and the grunt of the old cars that come by (any time I heard an engine I stood up expectedly like someone waiting for a blind date).

It's an experience I have added to the album of mental snapshots, so when I am stressed or panicked in times to come, I can just close my eyes and teleport back to this bench.

I recommend the mental snapshot photography to everyone! Consciously push the shutter button on certain situations and you will want to give yourself a high five later.

A man with a t-shirt on his head coasted past on his bike and told me the bus was coming. And what a structure it was. The door stays open, which is a relief since there is no aircon.

A boy got up straight away and moved for me, the whole bus service is a pure example of the Tongan attitude. It doesn't have any sort of timeframe, appears to stop wherever there is someone on the side of the road standing out for it, except at one fale kaloa where about 5 guys were sitting down and the bus went straight past. The other passengers just laughed. They loved it! I don't know if they know each other but they are conversing, some are singing, others just looking out the window. 

And they all farewelled the ones getting off.

I imagine if on any metropolitan bus service I tried to farewell a random or ask to be dropped anywhere, I would get more than a few strange looks. Everything we rattled past was like seeing through a whole different set of glasses.

Most journeys that stand out in our minds are because we meet or share them with someone, go through an amazing canyon or have incredible service. This one stands out not because it's in an incredibly unsafe vehicle, but because it's in an environment incredibly simple. 

I am vaguely sure where to get off, but I am happy to do this all over again. 

The greyer the hairs, the fewer the cares

I have found the answer to why we find our parents so embarrassing when we are teenagers.

It's because they are so old they don't care.

One of my favourite sayings is-

"Don't be afraid to laugh at yourself, you might miss the joke of the century."

And that is delightfully true. Nowadays I recognise the fact that I am a 'grown up' because I'm giving less of a crap about what I look like or whether I would be embarrassed and more of a crap about getting stuff done or being with loved ones in the time it would have taken to do makeup etc.

Recently there were 4 memorable situations where I really came to realise that old Joana would have been flabbergasted at how present Joana was so nonchalant about being a total nerdburger.

1. I went and sat at a cafe with a fully swollen and infected eye as I waited for the pharmacy to open. Yes, I did feel as ugly as a pirate at a poodle pageant, but I realised that the new-school Kensington hipsters were not really looking or probably unable to see through their vintage glasses anyway. Whatever.

2. When teaching a dance class I got so excited I did a move that resembles a freshly caught salmon flopping around a boat, but standing up. At the end of this marine movement I saw a choreographer who I have a school-girl crush on laughing at me through the window. Instead of being an awkward turtle I went and spoke to him and hid my salmon ways by making a smart comment about his hair. Sassy.

3. This weekend I had to have my arms painted red as part of a short film I was acting in. I realised I could do a pakaru job of washing my arms on location or leave them red and shower at home...SO I walked home with shoelaces undone as the red arms were not going near my new white shoes, red arms, bag open and makeup half on half smuged. What was my slick hair-do was then resembling the lint you pull out of the washing machine. The pic below is from the film. Classy.

4. After gate crashing a baptism (as you do) I was playing footy with the srogs- kids aged under 5. One of them kicked the ball super fast; luckily my face caught it. 

Boing.

Then when he threw it over my head and I ran to get it I tripped over my bag, and not in one of those "hop skip jump" trips but more "lets' inappopriately flash an amount of thigh to try not to fall flat on face" kind. Cool.

Look, grooming and appearance are important, not only if you are a poodle in a pageant but also if you are a person in public. But remember if you are worried about how you look, everyone else is worried about how they look, or come across. Yes, studies have shown that more attractive people get jobs, but so do hard working people, genuine people and determined people. 

AND, the main thing that comes with age, is confidence. That's your best accessory. It can make cold-sores vanish, social situations not longer awkward, and instantly make you look taller and thinner. 

So if you have a debilitating debacle that drives you to despair, just toss your grey hair and lose those cares!

Jj

You can't have a Discovery with out DISCO

 I'm in love.

I find myself smiling at the littlest things, people have told me Im glowing, I feel a buzz in my tummy and want to high-five or butt slap everyone I pass.

Except I don't know who or what it is I'm in love with, or why. 

Coffee?

Life?

The dogs I was looking after last week?

Double Rainbows? 

Snapchat?

I don't know if it's because spring is coiled up, I just have some fantastic people in my life at the moment, or because I bought some new fitness clothes; but I just want to have a seizure of success and pass it on to everyone so that they can fist pump through life.

Except the guy with a glass eye at the Apple store who gave me sass.

He can have himself a nice sit in the electric chair of etiquette.

Yes, a seizure of success.

Remember success is what you define it as; success for one person could mean earning enough money to buy a yhact and for another it could be mastering the ability to isolate and wiggle their right baby toe (which I trained myself to do while pretending to have a sprained ankle at primary school)

To just take a sledgehammer and rather than make out with it like Miley, smash down every wall and doubt and turning jete-allance through to living a life you have never imagined.

Take your eyes off the screen and look towards your dreams. 

See love conquers everything.

Think of what people have done for love.

When we are in love, nobody can rain on our parade. 

 So if we can feel in love with life, our country, LOL cats, or the smell of rain on hot concrete, then we have power.

The power of positivity, much like the power of invisibility, is something that goes unseen by many, but once we have it, all kinds of deeds can be done.

Jj

Caffination and Inspiration

If I didn't drink coffee there are lots of things that wouldn't be....
I wouldn't get some things done as quickly

I wouldn't have stains on 3 of my white shirts

I wouldn't catch up with friends as regularly 

I wouldn't read the paper

I wouldn't spend about $15 a week

I wouldn't know Melbourne CBD and all it's cafes
and in this morning's case;

I wouldn't have an increased heart rate or met an interesting woman who inspired this blog.


The beans were ground and it went down like this: 

I went for a morning coffee at a cafe by the botanical gardens, sitting outside admiring the view (read, checking out the talent running the 'tan)
A lady with a Labrador who looked slightly batty asked me if I wouldn't mind moving seats....(yes the lady and the Labrador both looked batty; the lady had all these scratches on her arm- told me later she's not 'a liner' but fell in a rose bush and apparently the dog has a skin irritation..)




Anyways 
although I was quite comfortable with my soy latte and avocado on toast 
(will next week's blog be "if I didn't eat avocado?" I doubt it. Because I cannot fathom am average agsistsnce in the absence of avocado) 
I couldn't say no to the dog, the lady or the potential of sliding down a seat to sidle up to Mr Strong Flat White, sitting to my right. 
After a general conversation about dogs, she ordered avo on toast too, took the magazine I was half reading and told me she is a painter.
Well, as a fellow creative I wanted to get her perspective on my situation, and at 67 years young she gave me some wonderful insight. When she and the batty scratchy lab left she said:


"Keep believing in yourself and you never know what will happen.."



Yes it's a pretty Hallmark card type statement but let's just say I'm not only caffeinated today but inspirated. The advice and conversations accompanied by a cup of coffee can go a long way, be it from a stranger, a soulmate or Mr Strong Flat White. 

So although I'm $15 poorer every week, living in Melbourne, the coffee capital, I become richer in life with every sip.


Jj

Smiles are free

As I rode my bike (Natalie Portman: Black Swan) to the traffic lights today a construction worker pushed the crossing button so I didn't have to dismount and do it. I smiled and thanked him and after about 10 sec awkward silence (not crazy awkward like when you walk in on your boss in the toilet, but more the semi awkward like when you get told you have food on your chin)

We struck up a conversation about riding, the weather etc. 

The highlight was when another construction worker who was definitely out of the "Village People" (handlebar moustache and all) drove his forklift past singing to me "Don't you step on my blue suede shoes."

 I was wearing blue suede shoes so it was quite appropriate, though would have been more appropriate if he banged out "In the NAVY" because the shoes were more of a Navy blue and being that he was one if the Village People it would have topped watching N'Sync reuniting at the VMA's http://youtu.be/WcFAqJG0gXo

as the highlight of my week. 

Leather-the-less it definitely made me smile as I rode away and smiled at some more men in hi-vis.

Smiles, you see, are free

They are contagious 

They are outrageous 

They go from you to me

Smiles, are free, you see

They take two seconds

And the anger lessens

They come on easily

Smiles, you see, for me

Wake up with one 

A day that's fun

They make us happy

I have so many things in my memory bank I can withdraw to make me smile. Hopefully you do too, or everyone does. The Village People construction worker did, and he passed it on to me. 

Remember things that happen or things people do don't actually control how you feel. 

"Whilst most people get niggly in a que for the loo, 

just smile and be glad that you don't need to......"

Jj

Matching to make magic

Today I managed to make my lipstick match my hat and my jumper and I really felt like I had life together. What’s more I saw my boss who I had not seen for weeks and managed to stay super sassy. For an Indecicivus-insecureus  (refer to my post “One Man’s Trash and the Classification of Fash” to get the definition of this) I felt like this was quite an achievement and therefore gave myself a mental celebration similar to the one on this ad:

When it comes to matching colours and themes in anything, be it décor, fashion, floral arrangements or table setting, there is a fine line between looking Kate Middleton classy and Stifler’s Mom shocking. There are many fashion bloggers and people with all sots of tumblrs and pintrest who have various rules of thumb; http://www.collegefashion.net/fashion-tips/a-foolproof-guide-to-matching-colors-in-your-outfits/ have a colour wheel.

 I’m pretty sure the girl I saw in the white puffa jacket and white velour track pants with black boots probably didn’t have one of these handy before getting on my train this morning, but really I am not one to comment as I have been photographed in a raincoat that matches my sneakers, and not in the “I have life together because everything matches magically and where is my boss because I have the sassiest sentiments right at the tip of my tongue with just the right amount of saliva to scintillate” kind of way.

We all know what they all say about judging books by their covers, thinking about what is on the inside and what not…..well, maybe some of the poor creatures they get on the T.V show “Snog, Marry, Avoid”…. see below....have slightly mis-interpreted this memo and believe that to match orange skin with straw hair will make the same magic that drinking orange juice through a straw does for my mouth. I'm not sure when aioli started being the perfect accompaniment for hot chips, but I hope it was not the same time leopard print leotards apparently started matching zebra print stockings, coz these ladies on are into it like it's going out of fashion, and I wish for there to be enough aoli and hot chips for everyone for evermore.

The middle one is the host...

Anyways, if you do have one of those days where your matching of shoelaces and earrings is about as magical as Neville Longbottom in his first Levitation class and doesn’t pan out as well as you hoped, this show is certainly one to remind you that there is probably going to be someone out there fractionally more crazy and mis-matched than you. What's more, this trashy British show really does try strip the orangoutangs of their fakery to reveal that the real them is just as beautiful and interesting. 

And with that I finish with one of my favs….

“Never be afraid to laugh at yourself…after all, you might miss the joke of the century.”

Jj