The Nest (part one)

Posted on 6 January, 2012 by Anne

When I wasn’t busy working, studying and undertaking Maid of (dis)Honour duties last year, it was all about The Nest. ‘The Nest’ being my fabulous mid-century apartment in a ridiculously awesome building in a reasonably well-situated Brisbane suburb. The balconies, the floor to ceiling windows and the 1960s kitchen secured my heart on our first meeting and after a rather tumultuous engagement, she I were bound by a sacred contract on 27 May, 2011. There was only one, teensy, weensy little flaw in The Nest. The bathroom/laundry.

So as soon as moving, weddings and university were dispensed with, I began the renovations in earnest. And when I say “I”, I really mean my builder and plumber. “I” mostly just went shopping, had ‘creative’ ‘visions’ and coordinated the delivery of toilets and tiles. Still, the whole process had the giddy effect of being remarkably fun and incredibly grown up at the same time.

So for the renovation nuts among you, and to record what consumed most of my energy in November and December last year, I present: The Nest (part one):

laundrybefore1

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toiletbefore1

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hallwaybefore1

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ceilingduring4

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bathroombefore1

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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.

Huh?

Posted on 19 April, 2011 by Anne

Lately I've been feeling a bit teary whenever I write down the date. April? How the flip can it be April?? And the second half of April??? Urrrgh.

And I tell ya what, it's been a busy three and a half months. There's been three illicit liaisons (none of which were particularly satisfying); one (maybe two) romantic false starts; one v proud 'get the fuck out of my life' moment; two online dating profiles; one UTI; the commencement of one Masters degree; one domestic revolution; one funeral; one wedding; three unfinished blog posts; one signed contract; and one application for a home loan (the outcome of which is to be determined). And don't even get me started on all of the crochet.

No wonder I'm exhausted.

And while I am rather bemused at myself for naively transferring all the energy I was spending on partying and 'looking for love' into my career, studies and the accumulation of property, I cannot help but wonder – what the fuck was I thinking? Seriously.

I made an offer on a flat, am now under contract and can safely say that I have never been more anxious in my life. I've just had half a bottle of wine and it's only Tuesday.

A healthy thing to do? No. Probably not. Necessary? Absolutely.

And even though I still have eight whole months left in the year, I cannot escape those tiny moments of dread when I consider just how much I still have to cram in. Somehow I feel incredibly guilty about all the things I wanted to do this year but haven't got to yet. Like learning how to ride a bike or taking better care of myself and my body. And while I know I am my harshest critic and I just need to CTFO (Chill The Fuck Out – it's a thing. I'm starting it), I am struggling to make it a reality.

As I continue to plug my way through the year, here a few of tunes that I've been rocking to that are helping me through. And while I know they don't really make for a very coherent blog post, I think that's okay. I'm not particularly coherent at the moment anyways. Oh and the last song – it's sheer liquid wonderment. Just FYI.

Twenty-eight.

Posted on 22 January, 2011 by Anne

A couple of years ago I read an article about a study that asked a number of people at what age they felt the happiest in their lives. The age when things had fallen into place and they were feeling contented. They averaged the responses and the golden age was 28.

And while I know I shouldn't put too much stock in studies I read about in Cosmo (although I'm sure I also read about it somewhere much more reputable), this one kind of stuck with me.

I've just finished reading the book my mother gave me for my birthday. It was all about taking control of your finances and 'living thin', but it also talked about something called the 'Saturn Return'. Apparently, it takes about 29.5 years from the date of your birth for Saturn to circle the sun, and when it finally swings around it brings all sorts of good astrological ju-ju into your life. Basically, it is a period of great transition. Why is this relevant? Well I guess it just lends a little bit more weight to the idea that those later years in your twenties are rather important. That good things, supposedly, will happen.

Having just turned 28 a little over a week ago, I feel like something is happening. Something I didn't expect.

Someone recently asked me how old I was and for the first time ever, I felt uncomfortable answering honestly. "27" was always an age I could throw out flippantly with a flirtatious old-enough-to-know-better smile, but 28?

All of a sudden I feel like I should perhaps be more of an adult. And that my actions might, you know, have consequences. Suddenly, I'm thinking about mortgages, career directions and contributions to my super fund. None of which I've seriously considered before. And I'm thinking about relationships.

I know, I know – I'm always thinking about relationships. But it's starting to feel different.

I gotta say though, a week in and 28 doesn't particularly feel like my magical age of contentment. It feels more like its going to be a year of bloody hard work. A fortnight spent traveling with my family has lead to some forced sobriety and lots of contemplation. This holiday I finally read a book that was recommended to me many moons ago, and this book feels important. For the first time in a long time, I read a book that lead me to ponder not only the world, but my own world. And it will be interesting to see how that develops.

So what will 28 be about? Well, I'm going to start by working towards the two things that came to mind when someone asked me what would make me happy. These were – making things (crafting and writing) and being active. These may not sound like much, but when I return to the real world, they will no doubt prove to be very hard work.

Resolved.

Posted on 1 January, 2011 by Anne

Well, my new years eve/day celebrations had just about everything – good food, good friends, good booze, amazing hot tubs, sausage dogs, Bailey's, obligatory 3am tears, bad movies, more beer and more great friends. Still, as I morosley expressed in last night's hot tub, I've been struggling to get excited about 2011.

I was really pumped for 2010. It was going to be my year – totally. awesome. But I've walked away feeling a bit meh. And while in many ways I have totally kicked butt this year, there have been some rather unfun and unsavoury moments that have removed some of life's gloss.

I suppose you could probably just consider these knocks and scrapes the stuff of 'growing up', but my gosh – don't they just suck balls? I mean, seriously? Why must life keep twisting and turning and requiring me to friggin' learn things about myself?? All of this 'self reflection' and 'growing as a person' malarkey is really very taxing on my mood, my body and yes, I'm going to say it – my bank balance.

And yet, in typical Anne fashion I have an enormous list of things to achieve in the coming year. So in keeping with tradition, here is my list of resolutions for 2011, in no particular order:

Learn how to ride a bike
Drink less, sew more
Pay off credit debt in order to consider new and more bountiful debt aka 'a mortgage'
Seek professional supervision/mentoring
Consider studying again
Start up dance/dance-fitness again – rediscover the joy of movement!
Go back to Weight Watchers – things have gotten out of hand. It's time.
Be kinder to myself – recognise and value the diversity within.
Start accepting set-ups and blind dates. Seriously, what is there left to lose?
And when it comes to romance – just chill. the. fuck. out. And be brave.

I have extremely mixed feelings about the year ahead. But at the same time I feel quite determined to work on the above list. So what do you reackon peeps? Do you think I can do it all?

I think that maybe I can.

Soulmates.

Posted on 22 December, 2010 by Anne

There's something about December. Somewhere between the insane levels of crafting, cooking and socialising, one cannot help but become reflective. My recent ruminations have lead me to believe that in 2010 I have spent a bit too much time in the land of 'glass-half-empty'.

For some utterly bizarre reason, when I look back on the year I somehow feel unfulfilled. Despite the great new job, amazing career opportunities, fabulous new friends, moving to a great flat in a suburb I adore, holidays and countless other fantastic moments the year has given me.

Clearly, I am a total idiot.

Well no more!! Instead of pining over the absence of my so-called-soul-mate (a.k.a. "a man"), I am taking a moment to do something different and celebrate my real soulmates. I am going to name names, and they are the names of some of the most remarkable women I know.

They all contribute to my life, making me stronger, happier and somehow lighter. They are my sisters of the heart and I just don't talk about them enough.

This list is not, and cannot be exhaustive. There are countless amazing, awe-inspiring women in my life. But these ladies are very much my glue. So here goes …

There is the remarkable Sarah – my oldest friend and someone I can always laugh and be myself with. Even when that self is just a giant blob on the couch or a hungry and cranky-panted co-traveller.

There is Lindsay, whose understated kindness is only enhanced by her deliciously evil wit, which I absolutely adore. Especially when she is dragging sausage dogs into hot-tubs.

My twin, the lovely Lisa. Not only are our lives disturbingly parallel, we complement each other entirely. She'll always tell me like it is and is a force of sheer awesome that I am lucky enough to bask in.

Jessie, my former flatmate and Victorian-era life-partner – the Howard to my Vince. Always delighted in life and always a joy to be around. And ever so nonchalant when finding my naked gentlemen callers in the bathroom.

Eli, Eli, Eli. My current flat mate who makes me laugh with my whole body and who has graciously created space for me (and my vast quantity of stuff) in her life. And while I am still waiting to see the evidence base, she may indeed prove to be a Doctor of Life.

Ange – not only is she introducing me to jazz, she is introducing me to her kind, and generous spirit. A woman I can be totally open with, and share my lust for Tupperware with. Amongst other things.

Tania, a most amazing woman who has an uncanny knack for always making me feel positive about myself, even when I am quite determined not to. A big heart and a passion for recycling and sewing that I can only hope to emulate.

And of course, there is my mum Cathy. She shared with me her values, her kindness and her wit. I am who I am because of her. She is a rock star and I am lucky to have her.

So it is with these amazing women that I look towards 2011. There will be some interesting times ahead that I am sure I will need them for. But I shall save that for another post. :)

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.

So, Where’s My Vote-Grabbing Bribe?

Posted on 17 August, 2010 by Anne

I am a single, childless woman under 30 who rents. Do you think I've ever been wooed by a major political party? Nope. Not once.

As a result my vote tends to be cast by mixing a general moral alignment with the decision about who I would least like to be my political leader.

One Nation/Family First/Kooky Independent candidates go towards the bottom, and the ALP, Greens and the party formerly known as the Democrats near the top. I number every bloody candidate on that bloody senate ballot just so I can decide who to put last. If that doesn't make you feel depressed about voting, I don't know what will. Oh, and I've never lived in a marginal seat so realistically, my vote has never made a difference.

I'm a bloomin' swinging voter, you would think that would mean something. Sure, I'm a lefty social worker and a member of my union so I can hardly expect any attention from the LNP, but wouldn't you think the ALP and the Greens would be 'all over this'? Promising me x dollars and x morally satisfying policies?? But seeing as I don't fall into a neat voting category no one bothers mentioning the issues I really care about (women, Indigenous Australians, supporting a vibrant non-profit community sector). Not even on Twitter. I have to go and find the answers.

Don't get me wrong, climate change, gay marriage and refugees are all issues I care about, but I am cynical about them as well. I'm cynical because I have yet to see any real leadership on these issues from either major party, and until I do they will not get my vote, they will only lose it.

So what are some of the other big ticket election issues/promises that I could be lured with? Education? Well, I don't have kids, nor am I studying. So that's a bust. Health? Well, I'm reasonably young, reasonably healthy and I have private health insurance. So as long as they keep the PBS going, I'm pretty happy. Paid parental leave? Well, I don't have children, I don't have a partner and I don't see kids in my life any time soon. Doh! The national broadband network? Yeah, that would be pretty awesome and I support it, but I live in a major city so it's less of an issue for me.

Seeing as I'm not being offered anything, I can only imagine what would be a nice election promise for a single childless woman who diligently pays her taxes as she establishes her career. Perhaps something that would make it easier for me to buy my first property? Or perhaps something to help me get better at managing my finances and debt?

Wouldn't that be awesome. Some kind of national program seeking to increase the financial literacy of women? Core blimey. That would get my vote.

You know what else would get my vote? A party leader who actually lead. As much as I loathed John Howard, and boy, you know I did, at least the bastard would make a decision and stick to it. A trait that ultimately saw him ousted from power, but at least he stood for something and was consistent about it.

While I continue to wait and hope for a leader I can have faith in, I'll just have to settle for voting against people instead of for them.

And people wonder why us young(ish) folk are apathetic about voting …..