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