The Story of My Year – in 140 characters or less

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.


  • 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.


  • I am currently a bit obsessed with this song. Symbolic? Well, obviously. But! It is awesome.
  • 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


  • 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!


  • "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


  • 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!"


  • Ladies at the races!
  • 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 :)
  • 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.


  • 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.


  • Gifted from workmate. He knows me better than I thought he did.
  • 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)
  • I can't help but feel my 10 year reunion RSVP form is belittling me for being single. And not a doctor.
  • Boat!!!


  • 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.


  • 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)
  • 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.


  • 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)
  • I have a lot of favorite things, and this brooch is definitely one of them!
  • 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.


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. :)


As I start to settle into that feeling of being in-between-homes, I cannot help but spend a bit of time reflecting on what home actually means. This particular train of thought all began when I was recently house sitting for my parents. And as those of you who follow me on Facebook and Twitter will know, it was quite the drama. A drama that resulted in quite high levels of cranky-pantedness. 

Still, despite getting woken up early by painters every morning, not being able to access the laundry where my clothes were, wearing my 15 year old brothers clothes back to my own house to find something to wear for work and then accidentally locking myself out of the house at 10pm and having to shimmy along the side of the house in a short skirt and then finding a giant dump in the toilet courtesy of one of the aforementioned painters – I somehow managed to indulge in some pleasant nostalgia. 

The nostalgia hit me when I least expected it, when I was baking some goodies for a work morning tea in my parents kitchen. When I used the old set of scales that required a creative combination of weight measures to balance my butter against. BAM! When I dug out the old and battered aluminum cake tins, which had once housed the core components of many creations from theAustralian Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Cookbook. BAM! When I measured ingredients in the 80s brown cup measures and used porcelain mixing bowls to prepare the icing. BAM! It was all exceedingly wonderful and filled me with that extraordinary tingle – that feeling of being home.

And then I began to realise just how many elements of my mother's kitchen had now become a part of my own. We had the same can opener and vegetable peeler – and an eerily similar collection of mixing spoons and nested mixing bowls. In both our kitchens the third drawer from the top is the province of cling wrap, baking paper, brown paper bags and freezer bags. I hardly ever use brown paper bags or freezer bags! But by golly, I keep them in that third drawer from the top. 

And then I began to notice some of the 'innovations' I had introduced into my mother's kitchen. Namely, the detergent dispensing dishwand and the silicon bakeware. And I also noticed the subtleties that indicated my parents are significantly more affluent than I am. They have real vanilla essence, not imitation.

I guess there are many things about the homes we grow up in that make their way into our own lives and homes. And it's not just our little behaviour quirks (like using different coloured chopping mats for different kinds of foods) – somehow the spaces are physically connected. My mother's kitchen was no doubt inspired by her own mother and the Christmas cake mixing bowl that once belonged to my grandmothers kitchen,now living in my mother's kitchen will now doubt make its way to mine someday.

How strange is that, to think of your kitchen as a physical link to your maternal line!?

I wonder if men feel the same way about traditionally 'male' spaces?

I guess it's all just a reminder that that essence of 'home-ness' is really just something that follows us around. Hidden in the guise of our habits and the way like to organise things and create a safe space around us.

A comforting thought for those of us who are about to move their life from one place to another, even if it's not moving very far.

On Writing About My Life

Clearly a day and a half spent in bed makes one introspective. Too introspective one might say. Yesterday I found a scrap of paper listing the title of a book. It had been given to me by a friend of a friend at a rather loud dinner party I attended recently. Okay, so most of the 'loud' was a result of myself and a dear lady friend having turned up after spending a day at the races drinking champagne. And I have no doubt that we were our usual irreverent selves, much to the potential pain (but hopefully amusement) of the other, much more sober guests. 

Anyways, while I have yet to get a hold of the book, I did manage to download the first thirty pages (a strange thing to be able to do, don't you think?). I am absolutely smitten by the general concept of the book – which I must've been when I was told about it, seeing as I forced some poor young man to scribble the title down on a brown piece of paper that had previously been wrapped around a bottle of wine. I have already found the following passage – page 3, chapter 1 – quite salient. 

THE SADDEST THING about life is you don’t remember half of it. You don’t even remember half of half of it. Not even a tiny percentage, if you want to know the truth. I have this friend Bob who writes down everything he remembers. If he remembers dropping an ice cream cone on his lap when he was seven, he’ll write it down. The last time I talked to Bob, he had written more than five hundred pages of memories. He’s the only guy I know who remembers his life. He said he captures memories, because if he forgets them, it’s as though they didn’t happen; it’s as though he hadn’t lived the parts he doesn’t remember. ***

People often ask me how or why I write about my life. I have been accused of self-indulgence (tick), mediocrity (tick), and driving men away (I assume tick, because there never seem to be too many around). I clearly have some kind of internal drive to do it. I've been doing it for what, eight or nine years now.

Tonight I dug up some very formative blog posts that were mostly about electrophoresis. Then there were some other ones that were mostly about being drunk. While I was drunk. And until I read about these events, feelings and experiences, I had completely forgotten about them. They'd slipped my mind entirely. 

So while there might not be a significant audience for the recordings of a self-indulgent, mediocre professional man scarer, I have absolutely no regrets in what is recorded. Cringey, hide-my-face-in-shame moments, yes. Regrets? Nope. None. There is something vaguely comforting about knowing that my life's foibles are stored forever on some anonymous server system somewhere in the world. Not quite as tangible as a set of journals – but real enough.

As for the subject matter, well, there isn't much of a formula to it. Just writing about what seems to be happening for me at any given time. In my late teens and early 20s, it was all about study, drinking and what parties I went to. In my later 20s, it's all about drinking and man hunting. Gawd help me (and you, Internets) if I ever get into a relationship. Goodness knows what kind of delights you will be hearing about then. Or if I get married! *gulp* Just think of all the 'wry insight' I shall unleash upon the 'World of Wedding'. And then comes the mommy blogging. Yikes!! 

Fortunately for now I continue to remain firmly outside of that world and maintain my general grumbliness at it for the amusement of myself and others. And I must, must, must get a copy of that book. Perhaps that can be my prize for a man free June? Actually. No. I have something much less intellectual in mind for that. Perhaps it can just be my prize for being me?

*** The book, for those who may be interested is "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life" by Donald Miller

Things That Stick.

(NO! I am not talking about semen. Just because this is a Sunday night blog post, does not mean I am speaking in sexual metaphors. It hasn't been that sort of weekend.)

I have been feeling a little introspective this week, probably because I have been premenstrual and my usual level of randiness has decreased. But I've been thinking about things and they have mostly been those 'sticking' moments. You know, those moments in your life that just seem to stay with you no matter what and somehow end up forming the patchwork of who you are. 

Things like the first time you looked in the mirror and realised you were a woman and not a girl anymore. You never quite remember when this happened, but you always remember it as a distinct moment in time. Or the moment you realised that other people's lives are different to yours, that we don't all have the same start in life and that you are perhaps very lucky (or unlucky). And the first time as an adult you hurt yourself or are particularly ill, and in that instant before calling your parents, partners, friends, siblings, whoever, you realise you are totally and utterly alone. 

Or that first moment of wretched heartache – feeling absolutely gutted that something you wanted or needed so greatly cannot be yours. That something so potentially amazing has been denied to you.

But of course there are happier (or at least less depressing) moments than these. Lots and lots of them. For myself there was that moment when, after years of actively telling myself I was hot and amazing, I actually believed it. That all of the work that goes into building a positive sense of self actually paid off. Although, it turns out that it continues to be hard work to maintain.

Or that moment when I realised I was a sexual being and embraced it. It was a bit of a shame I didn't have someone special around to share that particular moment with. It is certainly much harder when you keep having to go out and find 'new' men to share yourself with. But hey, that's just how the cookie crumbles. And besides, I waited a really, really long time, and a girl can't wait forever. 

Then there are those lessons learned, those realisations that can only be had from the input of another. Like a friend telling you that you are playing 'dating games' when really you just want is a shag (she was so right, I totally don't do that anymore – God help me when I start dating though). 

Or a friend telling you that if they were a guy and they read your blog, they'd be terrified of dating you. 

Or someone who hasn't seen me in years telling me that I seem to be enjoying being single, and realising that yes, yes I am. 

Or that moment when you bump into a guy, who you are not necessarily interested in and you know you will never have, but they somehow completely restore your faith in men, and in love. 

There are so many moments in life that seem to stick around, but perhaps my most recent was experienced as I wandered down the street on my way to the bus listening to the song I have been obsessing over for a month. As I strolled up the hill I realised that perhaps 'the lion' being referred to in the song is not actually the elusive male, it might actually be me.

And I stopped briefly in my tracks, looked up at the sky, sighed and then continued on.

Remembering Why I Choose Australia

I have had a lot of conversations lately about Australia Day, racism, 'boganism', flags, southern cross tattoos and the genocide of our Indigenous peoples. These conversations have all been incredibly interesting and often provide valid criticisms of our culture and history. They are also a bit of a downer and have the habit of making me feel a bit ashamed of my country. 

Unlike a lot of people my age and generation, I have not chosen to live and work overseas for any extended period. I have fallen in love with other countries and cities, but I only holiday there. Australia is my home, and I love it here. So this Australia Day, I am going to take a couple of minutes to reflect on what I think makes Australia pretty fabulous. Not perfect!! Just pretty fabulous. These are the things that keep me here, and that keep me committed to changing the things I don't particularly like. 

  • I was born into a country with 50,000 years of cultural heritage. 50,000 years!
  • This country granted my mother's family access when they were escaping famine and poverty in Ireland, and it still grants people access who are escaping war, oppression and genocide. (Okay, so they're pretty particular – but 13,500 per year is better than 0)**.
  • If I get sick, I can easily see a doctor and get medicine to treat my illness.
  • If I go to hospital, I do not have to provide my own linen, food and family members to attend to me.
  • I can find myself sitting in someone's backyard, having a beer, watching my friends and classmates perform dances from Bollywood films and eat delicious food we have all made to share. 
  • That I can always find someone interesting to talk to. What makes people interesting is that their experiences and cultures are different to my own. Because there is so much diversity here, there will always be new stories to hear!
  • That our collective laid back Aussie attitude (as reported by many visitors and people who choose to live in here) is so complementary to my own personality.
  • That there are so many people committed to creating change for the most vulnerable and powerless in our society.
  • We have a welfare system!
  • That Australians are so generous. Not just with our money, but with our time. In the year 2006, one third of Australian adults volunteered their time for their community. The grand total of hours worked in the year was around 713 million!***
  • That I can sit and have open and frank discussions about why I disagree with many elements of my country's politics and culture and nobody punishes or ridicules me. Well, not to my face. 
  • Our wit and our humour.
  • That I am free to choose how I would like to live my life (provided of course, it does not encroach upon the rights of others).
  • That there is still so much of this country I haven't seen.

So this Australia Day I am going to celebrate why I like living here in the way I normally do – listening to the Hottest 100, and chilling out. Although this year I will also be making Beetroot Hommus, which is pretty exciting.

Belatedly Resolved.

I have a little problem. Because I haven't 'officially' blogged my new years resolutions, I keep adding to them when other people tell me theirs. The list is getting too long, and judging by my complete inability to complete last year's list, I thought I had better post them quick smart.

This year I have gone for a combination of achievable tasks and broader attitudinal/behavioural shifts (Geez, that sounds fancy doesn't it!). So here we are . . .

  • Up my Pilates regime to twice a week – this may require me to decrease spending on clothes or alcohol. *gulp*
  • Find a new and fabulous job – it has to be fabulous to lure me away from my current position.
  • Write something, anything, once a day.
  • Finally sew a friggin' dress.
  • Take back the reins on my 'healthy living'. I dropped them for a while there.
  • Rock the U. S. of A.
  • Make peace with my Lady Bits
  • Be more conscious of my waste – food, garbage, the lot.
  • Find an off switch for my brain.

The last item was particularly inspired by an affirmation card I encountered last year (yes, I know it's dorky, but that affirmation card set was the best $20 I spent last month). In fact, it was this card that prompted me to buy the set in the first place. This is definitely something I need to keep reminding myself to do this year . . .


So there you have it. My goals for 2010. I have a feeling it is going to be a very good year.

The Year That Was.

If there was one song that could have been considered the theme tune for my year it was Single Ladies by Beyonce. Not because I was trying to get back at someone for not marrying me, but because I think that for the first time, I actually enjoyed being a single lady. 

Yes, despite my current level of crotchety-ness I really have to admit that 2009 has been a very good year. Lots of fun, crazy things have happened and lots of lessons have been learnt amidst the ups and downs. So, in the spirit of annual reflections, I present you with my list of happenings and learnings:

  • My Mojo Explosion. It had to happen sooner or later, and this year saw the introduction of The Huntress into society. And I am slowly beginning to manage her.
  • I walk/jogged the flippin' Bridge to Brisbane! 10km!! Madness.
  • I didn't go shopping for a whole month. EPIC achievement!
  • I found my 'blog groove'. After eight years of recording cringeworthy thoughts and moments, I have finally found my voice and a deep enjoyment in the expression of it. I have even begun to think of myself as a person who writes.
  • I learnt that it is much, much easier to get laid than it is to get a date. This may sound depressing, but it's not that bad. Sometimes it is better to have one rather than neither. 
  • I moved out into the rather delightful bachelorette pad, Lady M. 
  • I learnt that sometimes, my head lets me down. Especially when it comes to would be relationships. In the future I need to practice a bit of calm.
  • I fell in love with Japan.
  • I thought I liked someone, but at least 85% of it was in my head.
  • I went speed dating and found it to be an amusing endeavour that I am keen to repeat in 2010.
  • 2009 could also be known as The Year of the Hickey, which has resulted in a general ban from the neck area. I find this to be incredibly lame.
  • I bonded with my hairdresser when he tried to wipe a hickey off my neck, thinking it was hair dye. My mother was sitting in the chair next to me.
  • I shamefacedly bailed on spending time with my parents because I did not want them to see my dirty hickeys. On more than one occasion.
  • I got boozed and bought tickets to see Salt'n'Pepper at Good Vibrations in 2010. On my iPhone.
  • My relationship with my vagina has entered a new and not entirely positive sphere. We are slowly beginning to speak again, although I am not sure it will ever be the same . . . 
  • I am slowly beginning to conceptualise what it is I would actually like to do with my life. Slowly.
  • I have become very adept at writing selection criteria. 
  • I have been reminded, yet again, that I am by no means perfect and shall continue to try and hold myself accountable for my actions whilst not punishing myself too severely.
  • Getting to help my amazing employing organisation celebrate their 20th Anniversary in a way that honoured the work they have done and the sheer joy of the place that has kept me there for nearly four years. Flippin'. Awesome. Oh and! I got to be in a musical and wear bunny ears. For my job!
  • Turns out my skin is quite sensitive.
  • I Tweeted. Lots.

As you can see, it has been a rather fun and interesting year. Certainly there is plenty to inspire my forthcoming Resolutions for 2010. There are a couple of items I am tossing and turning over, so I may need a bit of help. You have been warned.

Taking a Moment.

Last night I suggested to my housemate that we should consider transmitting a live video feed from within our house. I felt this was important because our lives are so gosh darn exciting. I was refilling a dishwand at the time. True to form, my housemate one upped me by dropping fetta down her bra. However, for some strange reason she was not open to the notion of putting our lives on display. 

I have to confess I am often struck by how comfortably dull my life can be. Last night I crafted for three hours. Lost in the task, my mind considered nothing but the precise measurement and placement of fabric. I love sewing. It is all about basic maths, measurement and design. It is like doing a series of increasingly challenging puzzles. AND! You get to look at something pretty in the end. Alright, sure, I sometimes have to spend a considerable amount of time unpicking stitches and sure, I sometimes cry and bleed. But it is ultimately a very satisfying process. It is completely removed from the world of social work, where things come together in a neat and functional way considerably less often. 

So what's my point? My point, dear Interwebs, is that more often than not my life is considerably less exciting and glamourous than is portrayed on this weblog. Indeed, any hint of excitement and glamour is perhaps more reflective of my ability to tell a story five different ways. And you know me, I love spinnin' a good yarn. But this morning I find myself embracing and luxuriating in the dull. And you know, it is a luxury, being able to briefly stop your busy life and enjoy the moments of boring domesticity and time spent absorbed in interests and hobbies. I think it's actually pretty cool. So my dearest, loveliest readers, I urge you to spend a few minutes today appreciating some wonderfully dull aspect of your life. It may be filling out a form, photocopying, folding sheets and towels, staring blankly out a window on the train, anything! For these are the moments we never record, but they give us much needed respite from our lives. 

(Personal Insight: it just occurred to me that perhaps this is why I love doing my laundry so, so much?)

What Is It About Me?

For those of you who know me personally, and if my site statistics are anything to go by that accounts for the vast majority of my beautiful readers (snaps for Facebook!), you know that I am something of an attention whore. Be it the witty quips at the pub, the sheer volume of my voice after a couple of drinks, the often inappropriate dinner conversation or my love of 'the stage', there are many elements of my life (and my behaviours) geared to draw the spotlight to my darling self. Some would even say the mere presence of this blog is another fine example of this, which reminds me of the time a particularly young sprite uttered the following to me . . . 

"I have thought about blogging, but it just seems so self-indulgent" **

Tonight, as I watch and adore Glee and read some of the slightly more grown-up and socially acceptable magazines that I enjoy I find myself pondering – why? What is it about the spotlight that I love so, so much?

I am an extrovert to be sure. I love people, and as a social worker they are my business, my bread and butter if you will. And while I have never really considered myself to a social 'force', I am increasingly finding that is often how I am often perceived by others. Which is so strange to me – I know I love the spotlight, but the idea that people might actually enjoy watching me there? Talk about weird. 

It is certainly not something I have inherited from my parents. My mother, a wonderful and incredibly witty woman is also quite the introvert. When people I know have encountered her they are often taken aback – they expect another 'Anne', but my mother is an entity entirely distict from me. Well, except in the realm of home organisation, planning, humour and fastidious laundry. In those realms we are quite similar. She confessed to me earlier this year that when I was younger, all of the other mothers from the various activities I participated in used to call her 'Anne'. She was so quiet they could never remember her name. Poor mum, she really is a rockin' lady, you just need to get to know her.

Perhaps my lust for the spotlight is from being largely ignored for 9 out of my 12 years of schooling? And always, always being picked last for sporting teams? But then I think "hang on, my entire work life is about helping others" AND "I went through a substantial phase where my friends had to coach me to not be a doormat". So maybe, maybe, my current lust for the spotlight is not as pathological as I paranoidly feel. Maybe it is merely an expression of a young woman finally coming into her own. And maybe I should just enjoy this 'self-indulgence' while it lasts. Goodness knows it could all change at the drop of a hat.

Eeesh. Another rambling self-indulgent self-reflection bought to you by three or more alcoholic beverages and a girl with a laptop. Happy Saturday all!

**I should also note that this was the same young sprite who once branded me homophobic, much to the shock and awe of me and mine. Then, wrote me an apology note a week later. A note.