Resolutions?

Posted on 2 January, 2012 by Anne

Every year I pull together a list of resolutions, some nebulous, some concrete, and all ambitious. I usually have no problems with doing this. I’m a list writer, and I like to have goals. However, this year I feel very hesitant. Mostly because I’ve realised that my birthday’s proximity to new year means that any 2012 resolutions will essentially form my pre-thirty ‘bucket-list’.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not particularly worried about turning thirty (in 2013), but something about this year’s resolutions has me frozen in my sandals.

In an extreme state of exhaustion late last year I impulsively decided that the best resolution I could make for 2012 would be ‘no life-changing decisions’. None of this spontaneous ‘Hmmm, I might do a Masters degree’ or ‘Hmmmm, I might buy an apartment’ crap. All I really want is to just ‘be’ for a year.

However, if my itchy career feet are any indication, I suspect I will fail quite miserably at this. And also – what a pathetic resolution to have before turning thirty! Surely it should be something adventurous and crazy like bungee jumping, or sky diving, or learning how to do a cartwheel? And I’m sure I was supposed to learn how to play Mahjong by the time I was thirty.

Urgh. I am so not going to do any of those things. This is probably the best I can do:

Learn how to ride a bike (NB: this is held over from last year, and I’m 40% of the way there. I have a bike).
Sew a quilt for myself – I always sew for others. Now it’s my turn!
Pace myself – no sense in rushing things, it’s too exhausting.
Adjust to life with a mortgage and find a pastime other than shopping.
Enjoy the moments.
And as advised by a friend – learn how to walk and think about boys at the same time.

2012. Let’s do this thing.

At last, a bicycle.

Posted on 25 August, 2011 by Anne

Overall, I’d say that the biggest, most intimidating item sitting on my 2011 New Years Resolution list is not getting out of credit debt, taking more risks in love or even getting a mortgage. No, it’s safe to say that the biggest most intimidating resolution on this list is learning how to ride a bike.

The psychological enormity of this task is not at all helped by my parents constant and furious insistence that if I were to ride a bike on the road, I would most certainly die.

And people wonder why I’m so risk averse.

Yet despite these dire warnings, I think I’m about 50 per cent closer to my goal. I now have a bicycle. Although she needs a bit of love. She has two flat tyres, stiff breaks and an owner renowned for falling over when she’s walking down the street and thinking about boys. And while I have yet to really bond with my bike (because I am so wholly terrified by it), I’m thinking of calling her Merryl.

The pressure to learn how to ride a bike is steadily mounting as my new walk to work hits the thirty minute mark and my post-mortgage sensitivities revile from having to pay $2.65 to catch a bus just down the road. However, my fears of learning how to ride a bike are not helped by the fact that I now live on top of a hill described by one veteran West End cyclist as “relentless”. It was not until he mentioned this that I started paying attention to the cyclists riding up my street. They look pretty struggletown. At least, the non-Lycra clad ones do. And rest assured I will not be wearing Lycra, especially if it costs more than my couch.

I had all these grand visions of riding about the place looking impossibly glamorous, but I suspect this will not be the case. I suspect what residents and commuters in the West End/Highgate Hill area will be treated to is a paranoid, terrified and clumsy red head, sweating profusely and falling over awkwardly.

Let’s hope they’re ready.

My Life In Boxes

Posted on 27 July, 2011 by Anne

After signing a contract in April, getting a mortgage in May and being an landlord in June I am finally, finally getting ready to be an owner-occupier. My tennants moved out today and tomorrow I commence “The Big Move”. And despite my anxiety about having decidedly less money to spend on clothes, cocktails and rockstar haircuts, I am ridiculously excited.

This has been the most epic move of my life to date, and I have the broken nails, cuts and bruises to prove it. The packing process, which has occurred across three different sites in Brisbane has uncovered many, many strange and forgotten things from my past. Like this ….

I feel fairly confident that I stole it from the art rooms in year 10. And yes, I’m keeping it. I like that there’s a staple in his chest.

I have to confess I’m a bit nervous about the potential injuries that lay before me. That’s why I’ve invested in some professionals. Turns out $149 p/h on a Thursday will buy you two men and a truck. And some boxes. Hopefully they will perform adequately.

So for now my life is in boxes. All of it. And there are so, so many of them none of which are particularly organised. There’s this one box that contains two fry pans, a clock and all of my accessories. How does that even make sense??

Transitions are strange.

Still – moving into my first home that I own. Very. Exciting.

Anne versus The Universe

Posted on 24 May, 2011 by Anne

Every so often I feel like breaking up with The Universe. And I know this is a dangerous thing to say with a property contract due to settle on Friday, but this week is shaping up to be one of those weeks.

When I talk about 'The Universe' I mean that cosmic force which seems to swim around our lives, putting us in in the right place at the right time. At least when it's not busy smacking us around when we get to big for our boots or we're not doing what's best for ourselves and others. Maybe it's God, maybe it's the fundamental interconnectedness of all things. I don't know. But it's usually what I blame whenever I fall over awkwardly in public.

I have fallen over awkwardly in public twice in the last three weeks, each time with significant injury. I've glimpsed my future, and feel certain it will involve a hip replacement. And while I am willing to concede that the most recent fall is probably due to a combination of liquor, frustration and wet weather, that first fall? Clearly the unmistakeable work of The Universe.

A couple of weeks ago I had an unplanned, but not unwelcome encounter with a gentlemanly stranger. This particular chap did not have plans to remain in the city (or the country) and one thing lead to another. It was a very pleasant encounter and he scored 3 out of 5 on the Graeme Scale. I gave him my number hoping he might call again and saw him off. Shortly afterwards I discovered his passport on my bedroom floor. "Thank goodness I gave him my number" I smiled at myself, all while thinking – yes! I might get another shag out of this one!! (repeat shags continue to remain elusive to me, despite my best efforts).

He called, popped by to get his passport, and it was awkward. Really awkward. I'm not sure I've ever had a more awkward encounter. After this disappointment, I told myself never to think of him again. Out of sight, out of mind. Ha. As if that ever works.

A couple of nights later I popped into my local Coles to grab some quick dinner-type things. As I wandered into the shop I indulged in a brief fantasy wherein I bumped into the gentlemanly stranger, we got to talking, and stole off into the evening together. Well. Who do you suppose I spied in one of the checkout queues almost immediately?

I turned bright red at the sight of him, spun on my heel and ran off to bury myself in the fruit section. The Universe threw me a bone, and I freaked out and hid among the fresh produce.

Somewhere amidst my total tizz, I managed to buy some groceries and wander back down to the car park, where in my distraction I promptly fell over and twisted my ankle. I had to spend the next day working from home, straped and iced. Fortunately, I still had plenty of injury management apparatus left over from last year.

But wait, it gets better.

There were a few car tears on the way home, mostly from pain and embarrassment, but also from a little bit of hopelessness. So who do you think walked passed my apartment block just as I pulled up the car? And who do you suppose froze and stared down at her bloodied knee until he walked past her?

When people ask me why I'm still single and in my more honest moments I try and explain that I'm just not very good at the whole relationship thing, this is the sort of thing I'm talking about.

I'm the girl, who after months of complaining about never meeting eligible men, one is finally thrown in her path and she freaks out so badly she falls over and sprains her ankle.

And don't even get me started on the recently sprained elbow rendering me unable to use a computer, crochet or make obscene hand gestures.

The problem with fighting The Universe is that The Universe always wins, and you just get stuck with an ice pack.

Tupper-fest 2011

Posted on 17 February, 2011 by Anne

Three months ago I couldn't get someone to sell me Tupperware to save my life. Now? Well to say that I am currently swimming in a vast sea of Tupperware would be an understatement. I feel sheepish, overwhelmed, excited, baffled and yet somehow content.

Basically, I feel like I've had an affair with Tupperware.

Some time ago I wrote about the relationship between sex and Tupperware after a co-worker quite famously proclaimed: "Tupperware is what you have when you're not having sex". And after having spent close to $800** on Tupperware in the last 2 months, I can safely say – yes. Yes it is.

And can I just say, that while my ability to please in the boudoir is potentially questionable, my ability to get excited and share a love of Tupperware is undeniable.

I could sell this shit. And I could sell it well.

My affair with Tupperware culminated in a recent trip to a Tupperware sales meeting with my lovely rep Elizabeth. Not only, did I somehow manage to walk away with even more free Tupperware – I got a tour of the factory and a taste of what the company is all about. Okay, so the world of the Tupperware dealer is pretty intense, but do you know what I like about it?

Anyone can do it.

Young, old, male, (although mostly) female, single, married, pierced, tattooed – anyone. All you need is the ability to be friendly and a passion for the product.

I really, really like that. And it is nowhere near as scary as Amway.

So is it the end of the affair? Hardly. Tupperware is the kind of lover that comes and goes, but always leaves you feeling content with a renewed vigour. You know, for portioning your meals and organising your fridge.

What can I say? I'm nesty. And a Tupperware catalog is my porn.

———

**It could be worse. It could be like that weekend I accidentally spent $400 on vibrators. Although frankly it's hard to know which products have been the most useful.

On The Road Again

Posted on 13 January, 2011 by Anne

On a lighter note, heres something I wrote earlier in the week, pre-flood

Have you ever been to a restaurant and eaten something so wonderful that every time you go back, you just can’t bring yourself to order anything else? Well, I think I’m starting to get that way with travel. Except that instead of the seafood banquet with mud crab and the pasta marinara, I find myself reordering Japan and the United States.

Having not made it overseas until I was 20, I’ve never really considered I myself much of a globetrotter. Especially not with a never ending stream of friends and acquaintances packing up their lives and living overseas in various exotic locales.

The first time I went overseas was in 03/04 with a group of friends. We went to the UK and had rad times despite the freezing cold and being in Edinburgh the year that hogmany was cancelled. We also went to Amsterdam, stayed in the red light district and in a rather unexpected turn of events, spent much more time seeing great art than being stoned. Which was actually quite nice.

Since then I’ve explored a modest number of countries with Japan and America being my favourites so far. Japan, because it’s never what you expect, and it’s fun to just roll w the crazy. Oh, and they have heated toilet seats – awesome! And America because the people are fab, the men are gorgeous and bookstores are open till 11pm every night. Actually, it’s very possible that I just like countries with economies and populations so big that I can shop whenever I want.

Maybe that’s why I like Melbourne so much? (but not in that incredibly snobby – oh, it’s just so European and so much cooler than Brisbane sort of way)

And if me writing a blog post on my iPad in a well-furnished apartment in Neiseko, Japan hadn’t already given it away, I should probably mention that I am not the backpacking kind. I travelled with a backpack once. Never again.

These days most of my travel, both domestic and international is centered around professional development and visiting friends. Destination weddings are my favorite so far, they bring together such a great collection of people – something I find myself pining for these days.

Yes, now that we’re all hot young professionals kicking bottom in the real world, travel with peers is so much rarer. These days, most folk travel with their partners and the rest of us just book in holidays whenever we can and try to find travel buddies later. And as much as I am adoring this incredibly lush, incredibly awesome trip to Japan, watching bunches of mates, young families and couples in love rock out while I chill with my parents and 16 year old bro is tougher than I expected.

Of course this is not helped by the fact that something about air travel alway makes me really randy.

And I cant help but ponder what I always ponder when I travel, when o when am I going to get to do this with a partner that I can have all sorts of crazy holiday sex with?

Sigh. A girl can dream.

Meanwhile, here is a picture of me in the snow! And yes, my worrisome father has insisted that I wear a helmet when skiing. I’m not sure when helmets became in-vogue skiing attire. But they’re everywhere!

The Story of My Year – in 140 characters or less

Posted on 29 December, 2010 by Anne

Well, another year has gone by, but before I start listing my exceedingly plentiful resolutions for 2011, let's take a moment to review on the year that was. Rather than my usual pontifications I thought I could collate some of my sillier 140 character outbursts on Twitter. So here goes.

January:

For the 1st time in the history of my drinking I am not feeling rubbish on 1 Jan. Although I do have an urge for 300 Peso jugs of cocktails
Falling asleep in party dresses on Monday night is poor form, isn't it? Happy birthday mum!
One perk of being shackled to the family home while my parents have a kooky sex romp through Japan is that I get to drive my dad's Mini Coup
Today I am wearing a shirt to a job interview that was last worn as part of a naughty school girl costume. That's gotta be good juju right? (I actually got that job!)
Today I have embraced my malaise. But I have found that it is difficult to embrace your malaise on a leather couch. #firstworldproblems
Plans for the evening? Eat curry. Drink champagne. Clean room.

February:

I am currently a bit obsessed with this song. Symbolic? Well, obviously. But! It is awesome. http://bit.ly/3dxzzL
First day at new job. All snazzed up, already stacked it in the middle of Adelaide Street. #universekeepingitreal
"I am rather over Facebook. I am much more interested in Aldi" #shitmymumsays
It occurs to me that if part of my new job is being a secretariat to an important group, then I need to learn how to spell secretariat.
My sunglasses are love hearts. And I'm wearing an altered hanson tee. Have decided it's almost retro. I'm pioneering. #goodvibes
Errr, did I just sleep through a tsunami? It sounds like something I would do #oblivious

March:

I have tendinitis of the wrist. No idea what from. Forced to consider that it may NOT be sexually related. So uninteresting.
About to have dinner w old work mates. Feel v relieved as I can finally talk about my hormones and sore boobs. New office not ready yet.
Overhearing housemate explaining to friend why Flight of the Conchords is funny. Not sure if that is something you can learn.
Aaaand I've just realised that my bra matches my earrings.
Just opened tweetie to find … I feel overwhelmed by the taxi driver and hus dusgreafard of road aafernsytahdars… I almost understand it
What to wear today? Polkadots? Surely I won't pick up in polkadots. But I have before. But I can't! Have to get iPhone fixed tom #priorities (I totally picked up)
Okay, so I was late for my appointment at Apple because I had to pull over for a bit of a vom. But! iPhone is fixed, and ready to travel!

April:

"you cum guzzlin' slut" i like it. And i'm going to use it in conversation. #americandragshow
Wow wow wow!! Great keynote by Andrew Sullivan. Makes me proud to be a social worker nerd, what a great movement we're a part of! #10ntc
Chillin at Venice Beach w a slushie and a four dollar pizza. Will be sad to see this holiday end.
Bloody bad decision bears. They get me, every flippin' time. Fabulous engagement party though. Someone was wearing a chicken suit.
So I'm looking pretty smokin' today. And in typical "anne" fashion, I just sloshed coke zero down my cleavage. It's so sticky …
Flatmate: "get a better vibrator, and you'll be right". There's something so fabulously Australian about that.
Just remembered- they played Bowie at the club last night and I made a conchords joke to the boy I was dancing with. He didn't get it. #fail
I suppose, if anything, Internet dating tests my tolerance for bad spelling and grammar. It's also hilarious. But that's besides the point.
For years, I have joked about doing a dramatic reading of "prisioner of society" by the living end. Tonight – I lived the dream. #drunkpoets

May:

Have developed a crush on someone specifically because they danced the robot w me. #nerd
I'm buying a space invaders bra. Not sure if this spells the beginning, or the end of my so called love life.
Overheard on plane: "you seem very practical". If I wrote a guidebook on how to talk to women. That would be a no-no.
Well. I suppose if the last two weekends have taught me anything, it's that men are bullshit. I think I need to take break.
My new motto – "you gotta slay a lot of dragons before you find your prince!"

June:

Ladies at the races! http://yfrog.com/06zwqhj
Bumped into the last I guy I had a crush on. And before I went on my way, he kissed me. I don't think I'll ever see him again. WTF?
I didn't plan on falling in love today. But I did. Dan Sultan may just be the hottest man alive. #dreamingfestival
My first dress!! Made out of old bed linen :) http://yfrog.com/1310aimj
As a sassy red headed woman of leftish persuasion it's nice to finally be represented at the highest level. #spill
OMG. I just spelt bureaucratic right for the first time in my life. Is this one step closer to actually being a bureaucrat?

(Supposedly Dry) July:

We've lived in our house for nine months, and it wasn't until I did papier mache in our living room did I need to go out and buy a mop.
F.U.C.K. I've locked myself out of my parent's house. No phone. No one home. Need to pee. Gonna try breaking in again.
"I'm using that golden ticket even if You don't want to! DRINK BITCH!!" oh, @poppyGx. What a friend.
Hrm. Last Saturday I may have inadvertently opened a Pandora's Box of Booty Calling.
"Urgh. You've got bloody Dry July, when is that going to end?" #dryjuly
Well. I can safely say that sober speed dating = lame. #dryjuly
A member of the support band just took off his cardigan. This shit's about to get real! #goldfrapp
"this place is as straight as a sine wave": @AGMs_daughter 's fiancé.

August:

Have wrestled my morning afro into something vaguely professional. And yet I will still rely heavily on my blazer for professionalism.
Movers are here. Just did a paranoid condom wrapper sweep under the bed. Found three.
Snuggled in bed w new linen and a new view. I can totes see Stefan's Needle from my new bedroom.
Had my first giant stack outside my new apartment block wearing a cute outfit. There was blood in my stockings and everything. I'm home!
Facebook just made me sad. I don't know why I pine over this guy. Perhaps I'm projecting hopes that were never on the cards to begin with?
"Your dad was going on about how you need a partner. But I don't know. Maybe you just need a toolkit. Less trouble" #shitmymumsays
The lesson? Pilates and post-work drinks don't mix.
Electro Swing. Cures all post-electoral woes. #dancethepainaway #ausvotes
Have finally made it out of bed in a quest for groceries. Wish people wouldn't kiss happily in the street. Don't they know I'm nauseous?
I think that any man I fall in love with, will have at one point in driven a Volvo. It's the daggiest thing the world. And the sexiest.

September:

Gifted from workmate. He knows me better than I thought he did. http://yfrog.com/bgty0qj
Horoscope widget: "Today you will miss true love in your life. Don't worry. Everything changes with time and so will your romantic life"
May today be known as Champagne Tuesday! Cheers to Jules and finally having a governent. What a relief! #ausvotes
Oh. My. Frickin'. God. (@ Ding Dong Lounge) http://4sq.com/6UHoiu
I can't help but feel my 10 year reunion RSVP form is belittling me for being single. And not a doctor. http://yfrog.com/0e1jjzj
Boat!!!

October:

Whatever the female equivalent of suiting up is – I've done it! It's time to rock this engagement party, maid of dishonour style.
Hmmm.There's a guitarist asleep in my bed. Don't you just hate that? #maidofdishonour
I've just started following my local cocktail bar. This cannot end well. @Sling
It's unusual to see so many men wearing brown riding boots as they're NOT dressed as Jedi #polo
Celebrity Sighting!! Oscar the Grouch at a Toowong Bottle-o.

November:

It's becoming clear that my father is now primarily communicating with me via Facebook. Odd.
Theres a pineapple in my handbag. Mwaha!! @poppyGx
So. Many. Mustaches. (@ Archive – Beer Boutique Bistro) http://4sq.com/bYY8Oc
In other news – today I came up w the perfect way to describe myself. "Nurturing, but not subservient" – love it!
Executive decision made. I'm wearing my star wars t-shirt to work.

December:

Aaand I just got the receipt for an ap that I downloaded under the influence and had consequently forgotten about. Ah Tetris, my old friend.
I guess I'm sort if proud. I didn't get too boozed, so I didn't end up sending dodgy texts and doing dodgy things. But I kinda wish I had.
Watching the storm pass by w a cocktail in hand! (@ Sling Bar) http://4sq.com/9iccKV
I have a lot of favorite things, and this brooch is definitely one of them! http://yfrog.com/h7dkepbj
Tonight, I think I warmed to a guy just because he was gluten intolerant. That is so bizarre.
Me: "I wish you had surround sound right now" @jessiemyself: "I don't. But I can turn it up if you want"

So. Have I learnt any lessons in the past year? Well. I've learnt that I certainly drink a lot. And I've had a whole heap of sex.

Other than that I think I've learnt that I'm slowly figuring out what I want, but I am not quite there yet.

So 2011, bring. It. On.

My Domesticity.

Posted on 5 December, 2010 by Anne

Being a Domestic Goddess is hard work. Seriously. It's ridiculous. I am currently writing to you live from my pre-Christmas-cook-up and things have gotten pretty extreme. And stressful! Will my preserving go to plan? Or will it end up too runny, condemning me to spending another prescious weekend chopping, marinating, storing overnight, mixing, boiling, simmering, cleaning and pacing around my mother's kitchen?**

Why, why, why do I even bother?

I suppose it'll all be worthwhile, afterall home preserving is one of the most cost-effective ways of giving multiple people gifts of homemade fabulousness. They love it, and because it's a family recipe it feels extra special.

It's the same reason I like sewing things for people. It's nice giving folk something unique, and I'm usually learning a new skill. Although I do have a habit of being overly ambitious.

I remember one year I made like, a million truffles. Okay, maybe it wasn't a million, but 3 to 4 home made truffles for around 40 people is a lot. And some people got 6. They're particularly challenging when you decide to make at least three different varieties, each packaged in a cardboard chinese take-away containers, and hand roll them in a very miniscule kitchenette.

I will never make them again.

This year I am feeling the kitchen envy most acutely. I'm still getting used to apartment living and the smaller scale things need to be on – smaller loads of laundry, smaller grocery shops due to lack of pantry etc – but oh, the kitchen! Even though I can only bring myself to cook once a week on a Sunday, I seem to spend a lot of time in the kitchen. On Sundays I usually portion out food for the fridge and freezer to last me the week, while also building my stash for the weeks following days spent partying just a little too hard. Consequently, when I cook – I cook hard. Two to three dishes on the go in a kitchen that can really only fit one person with limited bench space and no pantry.

I max our kitchen out, and I do it with style. And when I say style, I am of course referring to my absolutely awesome assortment of Tupperware and cute/kitsch cooking implements. But when I spend the day cooking at my parent's house, with their luxurious bench tops, two sinks, gas cooktop, amazing fan-forced oven, three convection microwaves (it's crazy, I know, but oh-so-my-parents) and a pantry you could get lost in, I feel more than a bit envious.

In fact, I have to confess that I've recently started fantasising about kitchens. And filling them with Tupperware Modular Mates. And I think we all know what that means …. mmmmhmmmmmmm.

So have I replaced men with cooking, craft and extreme domesticity? These activities are certainly very satisfying. But they're not quite the same. I guess in the absence of a fellow soul to occupy my thoughts and time, 20+ jars of homemade preserves for the many in my life I adore will just have to do.

**My jars are sterilising and vacuum sealing as we speak – huzzah! (If you're into home preserving, check these guys out – awesome guides, advice, products and service)

Hanging at the Rock

Posted on 18 September, 2010 by Anne

To add to the ambience of this post, you may want to click play.

	Gheorghe Zamfir – Picnic At Hanging Rock .mp3

	Found at bee mp3 search engine

It was the start of my week away and I was feeling good, intrepid even. I was out on the open road, with limited plans and an open heart. As I was driving down (or was it up?) a highway in rural Victoria I saw a sign that said “Hanging Rock” and I kind of lost my shit.

“Hanging Rock! HANGING ROCK!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!! WHEEEEEE!!!!!!” I squawked at myself as I made a hasty detour.

You see, like many Australians of a certain generation I studied the film "Picnic at Hanging Rock" for high school English. Actually, I’m fairly certain I studied it a couple of times. One of my friends even managed to study the film and/or book every year of our five years in high school. And seeing as our friendship group was particularly witty, a few of us spent many a moment in high school collapsing on a hills or flights of stairs crying out “Miranda? Miranda!!”.

We thought this was hilarious. Retrospectively, perhaps it wasn't.

But the second I saw that road sign I channelled my inner teen and set about the parklands with a giant grin and a camera. I was devastated that my best friend from school wasn’t there to share it with me. I tried calling her, but there was no mobile reception. Seriously. It's hardly surprising that Miranda got lost.

So there I was. Sticking out like a sore thumb with my boots, stockings and trench coat – winding my way up to ‘The Summit’. It wasn’t very crowded, but as usual I felt extremely ill-equipped as I passed people with their jeans, sensible coats, runners/hiking boots, backpacks and water bottles. But I wouldn't be me if I wasn't turning up to places in completely the wrong outfit.

(inappropriately attired)

Surprisingly, I rather enjoyed the experience. I felt a bit like Elizabeth Bennett when she was exploring the lakes district in inappropriate clothing, stopping every so often to exclaim “beautiful!” while her hair looked windswept and cheeks rosy. Except that unlike Elizabeth Bennett, I was unchaperoned and had a Hyundai Getz at my disposal.

(windswept and rosy cheeked – or as Mr. Darcy would say ‘brightened by the exercise’)

And I have to say it was beautiful. Which was a nice surprise seeing as I was only really there for laughs. And yes. As I climbed to the top I did have an overwhelming urge to remove my stockings and boots in an affront to Victorian modesty. But I didn’t! I only removed my trench coat.

Although I have to confess, and please, don’t be too disappointed with me – but I did wish I had a ‘special someone’ with me on this trek. I mean, how awesome would it have been to get a photograph of myself flung across these stairs, arms stretched out gasping “Miranda? Miranda!”?

(the answer – so awesome)

Turns out there are some things that you need a partner in crime for. Or at least someone to look at you quizzically while you fling yourself to the ground and force them to take photographs of you. But alas, on this occasion it was not meant to be. We shall just have to be content with the sweet sounds of the pan flute, and imagine the awesomeness that could've been.

*sigh*

The West End.

Posted on 1 September, 2010 by Anne

So after months of dreaming and scheming I have finally done it. I put out a call to the Universe, and she replied by way of a friend with a spare room in the heart of West End. So here I sit, nestled in my bed in my tiny wee room a stones throw away from everything I could ever want, with my car living about 14 kilometres away. So it's really no surprise that the day after I moved in I fell over, sprained my ankle and couldn't walk anywhere. Kudos, Universe. Kudos.

Yes, despite a number of friends hanging shit on me for living in a 'trendy' area, I can safely assure you that I have not lost touch with my bumbling, dorkish self. Hell, if falling over in the middle of a main road outside my unit block the day after I moved here isn't a sign of my innate dagginess, I don't know what is.

That, and the fact that earlier tonight I boozily commented that no, I wasn't a West Ender, I was just of a pretender. Yes. I actually said that. Pretty soon after exclaiming that any man I truly love must have at some point have driven a Volvo.

To back up this assertion of being a 'pretender' I should probably share my experience of waiting for a bus just after I moved to the area. I was having a chat to some of my fellow West Enders about their plans for the day and it turns out they were going to an environmental rally. I, on the other hand, was going to brunch.

Yes, I may just be one of those yuppies that the locals so despise. Crossed with some kind of heinous dork.

But, as my ankle heals and I start wandering a little further, I find myself falling rather in love with this quirky suburb. And, shock upon shock, I think I am entering a strange new period in my life. I have decided that only men I give a damn about are allowed into my boudoir. It is a sanctuary, albeit an incredibly cluttered one, but a sanctuary nonetheless. No assholes allowed!

It's a tough rule, but I intend on sticking to it.

So it's a new page, maybe even a new chapter in the life of lil' ol' me. I'm not quite sure how it will develop – but I'm looking forward to finding out.