As a parent of two school age children I am obliged to attend school functions and extra-curricular sports, theatre and musical activities.
So I need to start by saying this: Mum, Dad I have new level of respect for you. As the kid who joined two calisthenic clubs, played guitar, joined every musical group, debating group and drama group during school I now understand the torture you went through attending every single function I was involved in. I feel like I should apologise profusely, but I'm pretty sure I was good enough to hold your attention for all those years (at least that's how I prefer to remember it).
Tonight I attended a "musical soiree" put on my by eldest son's school. That's a fancy pants way of naming the musical torture session I sat through for 2-and-a-half hours with only one plastic cup of really bad wine to help ease the pain. But kudos to the school for serving wine. You don't get that at primary school level. I have long advocated for wine to be served at the weekly assemblies. Yes I know they start at 9am. Have you sat through one of these assemblies? No. Shut up then.
I don't know about you other parents, but I'm really only interested in the 3-and-a-half minutes my kid is on stage for.
At first I thought it might be fun to turn the evening into a drinking game. One sip for every bum note. I finished my drink in the first number. I was too far away from the wine to get another cup without tripping over a host of nannas, and being too embarrassed to whisper excuse me 52 times to reach the wine table, I had to sit through this sober*.
*I'm not an alcoholic, but at these events I consider it.
I checked the program with great hope, thinking if my kid's number came up early we could leave by interval. No such luck. Item 21 on the list. 30 items all up.
The second kid up played the Star Wars Theme on the guitar. It's not the same without the John Williams orchestra. It needs a horn section. I also had to bite back the urge to say the monologue form the movie aloud in the hall - but I really did wish I was in a galaxy far, far away.
Then some kids played Mozart on the flute, which was followed up by a kid who played Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns n Roses. I really wanted someone to belt out OOOOOOOOOHHHH Sweet Child O' Mine from the audience. But apparently this isn't done at a Catholic School. Still you can't complain about the diversity of music on offer.
Bla bla bla some flutes, some trumpets and some drum solos. Note to all teachers: Unless you are rock star along the lines of Dave Grohl, 10 minute drum solos are not interesting to anyone.
But then they bought out the kids who played the BONGOS. BONGOS. They never would have allowed skiving off like that in my day. I have no idea what they played, but they were comical, because they were BONGOS.
This was followed up some kids who played "Wild Thing" on the xylophones. I found this hysterically funny and had to seriously stop myself from a standing ovation at the end of that song. Well done 12 year olds for being amazingly uncool and cool all at the same time.
My kids turn is up. He's playing in the year 8 band. The teacher announces that all students have been learning this song for the entire term BUT this was the very first time they have actually all played in the same room. VERY. FIRST. TIME. I want to face palm but figure that's rude so I don't. They are surprisingly good and I'm pretty sure that Pseudo Echo would be proud.
The obligatory guitarists come up and crank Deep Purple out of their amps. I'm pretty sure it's a legal requirement for all students to learn Smoke on the Water. The people around me were not happy when I sang "fire in the sky" out loud. Whatever. Haters gonna hate.
The obviously save the better kids for the second half of the soiree and there was a great pianist and guitar player who rocked a 12 string John Butler style. I do take my hat off to him. He did not take his hat off to play though. I guess he figured if it's good enough for John Butler then it's good enough for him. School policy says no dreads though, which made me feel like he didn't really commit hard enough.
But they decide to finish off the night with the saxaphone band. Just made of up saxaphones, a few saxaphones and a saxaphone.
They did three numbers. I swear the first jazz/swing number lasted 10 minutes. People unless you're passing a doobie around at 9:30pm (and I'm pretty sure that's frowned upon in the school system) no one wants to hear a 10 minute jazz piece performed by 8 saxaphonists - NO MATTER HOW GOOD THEY ARE. Okay except their parents. Sheesh, pedantic much?
Okay, so it wasn't quite as bad as that. Okay so yes it was. But I liked the 3-and-a-half minutes my kid was on stage. He took me to funkytown.
Monday 12 November 2012
Friday 5 October 2012
Falling in love again...
Remember that feeling when you first hold your newborn and you think this is the purest and most perfect love I will ever have for another human being? Well, I think that's happening to me again. Only my kids are now "Mum I'm nearly 14" and "Mum I'm 9 not 8".
The first few years of your children's lives are amazing. Full of firsts. First smile, first rollover, first steps, first tooth, first words are all super exciting. Then come the toddler years and the first frustrations of parenthood really hit home. Tantrums, boundaries, disappointments (theirs and yours) and the sheen comes off somewhat. It's not that you don't love them, just that the reality of the day to day life of living with little people hits home.
Then come the early school years which, I must admit, can be totally adorable. But a lot of the time, at the end of the day you're dealing with a tired, cranky kid (even the best of them) and your nights can be full of planning strategies of coping.
Now that being said, my kids are pretty great. They're not perfect. There are days when I give myself timeouts from the petty arguments, the food spills and just the general noise that two boys can create in the space of one day.
But lately, I've found myself falling in love with them all over again. Not that I fell out of love, ever. but certain ages presented certain challenges and the occasional testosterone charge made life...well...interesting.
But my nearly 14 year old is turning into one of the coolest kids I know. I seriously would LIKE him even if he wasn't my kid. He's smart, independent and has the driest sense of humour that leaps out unexpectedly at you and has you snorting inelegantly at the dinner table, plus he does the meanest Irish accent I've ever heard. He's also a total sports nut and watching him talk sport with men and being taken seriously is amazing. I also like that he deepens his voice a little when in a group of males. I can see him "manifying" in front of me. But he does sweet things like grab my hand when we're walking or offers his arm like an old-fashioned 19th century gentleman as we walk the dog. This does juxtapose nicely with the fart joke he is telling me.
My I'm 9-not-8 year old is a different kettle of fish. He lives on his own planet, but let me tell you it's a great place to visit. I find myself having conversations with him that resemble Salvador Dali or Picasso paintings. You're never quite sure what they mean, but they're definitely fun to analyse. He's also quite willing to drop whatever he's doing and burst into song and dance with you at almost any occasion. (Gangnam style down the supermarket aisle anyone?). He's also writing his first novel (he thinks it will take three years to finish the story arc he has in mind), but at the same time he hasn't grown out of singing as he poops from when he was a toddler. (It's how we got him to sit still long enough). There's nothing funnier than hearing LMFAO's I'm Sexy and I Know It coming from your toilet.
So, even though life is not perfect and filled with conversations that start with "your room does not have a floordrobe" and "if I step on one more piece of freakin' lego" and "we do not put cheezels up your brothers nose" and "if you can't play without arguing I'll turn the G-DAMN WII OFF" I have to say that this time, right now, is the time I'm enjoying the most as a parent.
I'm not sure exactly why that is, I'm just grateful. It could all change in an instant. Life's like that.
The first few years of your children's lives are amazing. Full of firsts. First smile, first rollover, first steps, first tooth, first words are all super exciting. Then come the toddler years and the first frustrations of parenthood really hit home. Tantrums, boundaries, disappointments (theirs and yours) and the sheen comes off somewhat. It's not that you don't love them, just that the reality of the day to day life of living with little people hits home.
Then come the early school years which, I must admit, can be totally adorable. But a lot of the time, at the end of the day you're dealing with a tired, cranky kid (even the best of them) and your nights can be full of planning strategies of coping.
Now that being said, my kids are pretty great. They're not perfect. There are days when I give myself timeouts from the petty arguments, the food spills and just the general noise that two boys can create in the space of one day.
But lately, I've found myself falling in love with them all over again. Not that I fell out of love, ever. but certain ages presented certain challenges and the occasional testosterone charge made life...well...interesting.
But my nearly 14 year old is turning into one of the coolest kids I know. I seriously would LIKE him even if he wasn't my kid. He's smart, independent and has the driest sense of humour that leaps out unexpectedly at you and has you snorting inelegantly at the dinner table, plus he does the meanest Irish accent I've ever heard. He's also a total sports nut and watching him talk sport with men and being taken seriously is amazing. I also like that he deepens his voice a little when in a group of males. I can see him "manifying" in front of me. But he does sweet things like grab my hand when we're walking or offers his arm like an old-fashioned 19th century gentleman as we walk the dog. This does juxtapose nicely with the fart joke he is telling me.
My I'm 9-not-8 year old is a different kettle of fish. He lives on his own planet, but let me tell you it's a great place to visit. I find myself having conversations with him that resemble Salvador Dali or Picasso paintings. You're never quite sure what they mean, but they're definitely fun to analyse. He's also quite willing to drop whatever he's doing and burst into song and dance with you at almost any occasion. (Gangnam style down the supermarket aisle anyone?). He's also writing his first novel (he thinks it will take three years to finish the story arc he has in mind), but at the same time he hasn't grown out of singing as he poops from when he was a toddler. (It's how we got him to sit still long enough). There's nothing funnier than hearing LMFAO's I'm Sexy and I Know It coming from your toilet.
So, even though life is not perfect and filled with conversations that start with "your room does not have a floordrobe" and "if I step on one more piece of freakin' lego" and "we do not put cheezels up your brothers nose" and "if you can't play without arguing I'll turn the G-DAMN WII OFF" I have to say that this time, right now, is the time I'm enjoying the most as a parent.
I'm not sure exactly why that is, I'm just grateful. It could all change in an instant. Life's like that.
Monday 24 September 2012
Girl Afraid
I see a tonne of wonderful quotes I'm sure they attribute to the "they" known in "they say". You know the ones. The life inspiring, life affirming, positive attitude quotes that are designed mostly to make you feel bad for laying on the couch and watching an entire season of True Blood while eating Tim Tams nonstop on a nice sunny day.
The one I see the popping out at me on Pinterest the most is "WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WEREN'T AFRAID". It's always written in a swirly font with the backdrop of an inspiring sunset that makes you sigh and it got me to thinking about what I'd do if I wasn't afraid. That was after I'd thought stop it Pinterest and just show me some great outfits/recipes and funny memes about Harry Potter and Twilight.
1. I'd ride more rollercoasters. I have to admit it I'm always worried that I'll be that .01% that will fall out of the damn ride.
2. I'd ditch someone I don't consider a friend anymore. Yeah that's not nice is it? But the world is messy, my friend and I've truly outgrown this person and the drama that comes with them. But damn it we're friends on facebook too and even though I haven't seen them in real life for 6 months I still feel obliged to stay facebook friends with them.
3. I'd wear more dresses. Back to the shallow. I'm always worried the skirt will flip up and expose the fact that I really like boy leg underwear and not pretty, feminine, lacy underwear. (Hey, the lace scratches okay?)
4. I'd finish writing my novel. Oh c'mon if Stephenie Meyer and EL James can get published....
5. I'd try camel. I've always wanted to try to eat something exotic. But let's not go overboard here. I don't want to eat anything that is raw or that comes from the ocean. Just sayin': there's afraid and there's just plain yucky.
6. *language warning* There's a whole list of people I'd yell F*CK OFF AND THEN F*CK OF SOME MORE AND WHEN YOU GET THERE F*CK OFF FURTHER. IN FACT KEEP F*CKING OFF UNTIL YOU GET BACK HERE AND THEN F*CK OFF AGAIN. They are 4WD drivers who never leave the metro area and drive and park like no other people exist, people who slant their trollies to face the middle of the shopping aisle so you can't get past them, people who talk really loudly on their mobile phones while on public transport and all the Kardashians. Seriously. Just. Go. Away.
7. Tell "Mr Rochester" (I'm changing the name to protect the innocent) that I really, really like him and think we'd be great together. Yep. I'd lay it on the line, put my heart out there for the very possible sting of rejection. In fact I even have a plan for how I'd get him to like me back. There's a big concert at the end of term and he's going to be in it. I thought, if I was in the concert and played really, really well, there's a chance he might fall in love....oh wait no, that's the plot of Love Actually. Damn.
But I get ahead of myself. Maybe I should start with the rollercoasters. If I can last on one of those rides without actually turning green and throwing up I may just be ready to tackle the rest.
What would you do?
The one I see the popping out at me on Pinterest the most is "WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WEREN'T AFRAID". It's always written in a swirly font with the backdrop of an inspiring sunset that makes you sigh and it got me to thinking about what I'd do if I wasn't afraid. That was after I'd thought stop it Pinterest and just show me some great outfits/recipes and funny memes about Harry Potter and Twilight.
1. I'd ride more rollercoasters. I have to admit it I'm always worried that I'll be that .01% that will fall out of the damn ride.
2. I'd ditch someone I don't consider a friend anymore. Yeah that's not nice is it? But the world is messy, my friend and I've truly outgrown this person and the drama that comes with them. But damn it we're friends on facebook too and even though I haven't seen them in real life for 6 months I still feel obliged to stay facebook friends with them.
3. I'd wear more dresses. Back to the shallow. I'm always worried the skirt will flip up and expose the fact that I really like boy leg underwear and not pretty, feminine, lacy underwear. (Hey, the lace scratches okay?)
4. I'd finish writing my novel. Oh c'mon if Stephenie Meyer and EL James can get published....
5. I'd try camel. I've always wanted to try to eat something exotic. But let's not go overboard here. I don't want to eat anything that is raw or that comes from the ocean. Just sayin': there's afraid and there's just plain yucky.
6. *language warning* There's a whole list of people I'd yell F*CK OFF AND THEN F*CK OF SOME MORE AND WHEN YOU GET THERE F*CK OFF FURTHER. IN FACT KEEP F*CKING OFF UNTIL YOU GET BACK HERE AND THEN F*CK OFF AGAIN. They are 4WD drivers who never leave the metro area and drive and park like no other people exist, people who slant their trollies to face the middle of the shopping aisle so you can't get past them, people who talk really loudly on their mobile phones while on public transport and all the Kardashians. Seriously. Just. Go. Away.
7. Tell "Mr Rochester" (I'm changing the name to protect the innocent) that I really, really like him and think we'd be great together. Yep. I'd lay it on the line, put my heart out there for the very possible sting of rejection. In fact I even have a plan for how I'd get him to like me back. There's a big concert at the end of term and he's going to be in it. I thought, if I was in the concert and played really, really well, there's a chance he might fall in love....oh wait no, that's the plot of Love Actually. Damn.
But I get ahead of myself. Maybe I should start with the rollercoasters. If I can last on one of those rides without actually turning green and throwing up I may just be ready to tackle the rest.
What would you do?
Wednesday 19 September 2012
I wanna hold your hand...
I'm not 17 anymore...in fact I'm not even 40 anymore, but sometimes I still feel like I'm 17. Like right now. Totes. It's because I have a crush on a boy. Okay - scratch that. I have a crush on a man. A manly man. A straight shooting, ambitious, strong, emotional, private, caring man. Having a crush on someone must be the most wonderfully torturous feeling in the world. It's hard to think straight when you're deep in crush. Especially if you happen to be around your crush.
Every look they shoot you, every word they say, every twist of the shoulder, every hand movement becomes significant (well if you're a woman at least!)
I think having a crush is the best feeling in the world. It's full of potential. No reality has set in, every flaw is endearing and life has promise.
Some people (eg my wolf pack) are quite frankly, sick to death of hearing about my crush. One has even gone so far as to say that until I f*ck my crush they don't want to hear his name mentioned ever again. (Should I be crass? Yeah, why not... I'd like to "oblige" my friend in this instance LOL winky emoticon).
The only problem with having a crush is not being able to act on it. Yes, there are various reasons why I can't just say "Hey this is crazy but here's my number so call me maybe". One of those reasons is that's a Carly Rae Jepsen song that's super annoying on the radio at the moment. The other reasons...well that's for me to know!
So at the moment, I can honestly say that my life is pretty fantastic at the moment. Potential and promise, dreams and fantasy are keeping me warm at night (along with Fifty Shades of Grey - yeah I know, tragic but I'm single so cut me some slack!)
So until my crush magically figures out that we would make an awesome couple, fictional characters and some late night daydreams will have to suffice (it's okay if some of them are about Matt LeNevez, right?)
But funnily enough all of the late night daydreams start with simply, just wanting to hold his hand. The good ones don't end there.
Sweet dreams...
Every look they shoot you, every word they say, every twist of the shoulder, every hand movement becomes significant (well if you're a woman at least!)
I think having a crush is the best feeling in the world. It's full of potential. No reality has set in, every flaw is endearing and life has promise.
Some people (eg my wolf pack) are quite frankly, sick to death of hearing about my crush. One has even gone so far as to say that until I f*ck my crush they don't want to hear his name mentioned ever again. (Should I be crass? Yeah, why not... I'd like to "oblige" my friend in this instance LOL winky emoticon).
The only problem with having a crush is not being able to act on it. Yes, there are various reasons why I can't just say "Hey this is crazy but here's my number so call me maybe". One of those reasons is that's a Carly Rae Jepsen song that's super annoying on the radio at the moment. The other reasons...well that's for me to know!
So at the moment, I can honestly say that my life is pretty fantastic at the moment. Potential and promise, dreams and fantasy are keeping me warm at night (along with Fifty Shades of Grey - yeah I know, tragic but I'm single so cut me some slack!)
So until my crush magically figures out that we would make an awesome couple, fictional characters and some late night daydreams will have to suffice (it's okay if some of them are about Matt LeNevez, right?)
But funnily enough all of the late night daydreams start with simply, just wanting to hold his hand. The good ones don't end there.
Sweet dreams...
Friday 13 April 2012
And it's My Life...by a nose.
I remember 2005 fondly. I had been separated for over a year, but felt extremely positive. I could literally feel that things were coming together.
For starters I was no longer sleeping (well pretending to sleep) in the foetal position. Food no longer tasted like cardboard and scotch no longer tasted like salvation.
Looking back it was the year I grabbed the reins of my life and took control of the horse called My Life.
I went back to school, changed my job, made new friends and returned to a hobby that I loved.
Surely it was onwards and upwards from there on - right? Right?
Well fast forward several years and I was right. Kind of. I got myself a new career, found an amazing circle of friends (still expanding but with the good people still hanging around) and my kids are absolutely amazing, except for when they're being...well, you know...kids.
But along comes 2012 and the horse has stalled. I'm shaking the reins furiously and short of whipping the horse (not something I'm keen on) nothing much is happening. The horse has balked at the jump.
So I sit here now trying to figure out how to get over the hurdle. How do I think outside the square to get the horse moving again. Do I walk the long way around the jump and get behind in "the race" or do I sit and wait for the horse to decide when it's okay to jump?
Part of me is screaming (on the inside) for the horse to just do what I damn well want it to do. The other, more zen-like part of me is wondering if the horse knows something I don't and maybe rushing the jump isn't a good idea.
So I'm stuck in the horse analogy and at life - hanging on to the saddle for dear life and hoping the horse knows what it's doing, because even though I know I'm only the one competing - I'd still like to finish the race, or at least get to the next hurdle.
For starters I was no longer sleeping (well pretending to sleep) in the foetal position. Food no longer tasted like cardboard and scotch no longer tasted like salvation.
Looking back it was the year I grabbed the reins of my life and took control of the horse called My Life.
I went back to school, changed my job, made new friends and returned to a hobby that I loved.
Surely it was onwards and upwards from there on - right? Right?
Well fast forward several years and I was right. Kind of. I got myself a new career, found an amazing circle of friends (still expanding but with the good people still hanging around) and my kids are absolutely amazing, except for when they're being...well, you know...kids.
But along comes 2012 and the horse has stalled. I'm shaking the reins furiously and short of whipping the horse (not something I'm keen on) nothing much is happening. The horse has balked at the jump.
So I sit here now trying to figure out how to get over the hurdle. How do I think outside the square to get the horse moving again. Do I walk the long way around the jump and get behind in "the race" or do I sit and wait for the horse to decide when it's okay to jump?
Part of me is screaming (on the inside) for the horse to just do what I damn well want it to do. The other, more zen-like part of me is wondering if the horse knows something I don't and maybe rushing the jump isn't a good idea.
So I'm stuck in the horse analogy and at life - hanging on to the saddle for dear life and hoping the horse knows what it's doing, because even though I know I'm only the one competing - I'd still like to finish the race, or at least get to the next hurdle.
Saturday 4 February 2012
Oh no you didn't...
I recently had a night out with some great girlfriends. We drove a couple of hours away from the city and spent the night in a lovely, little country pub. The night started with tonnes of laughs on the drive up and capped off by a beautiful dinner in a quaint restaurant in the middle of nowhere. .
We then moved on to a big country pub where we met up with a few more friends. Hilariously, karaoke was the speciality of the night. With a few bevies under the belt for a bit of dutch courage, nearly everyone in the group got up and showed off the inner rock star. With voices ranging from "I can barely hold a tune" to "Holy crap you should try out for a reality singing competition tv show" everyone was having a barrel of laughs.
Lots of dancing was going on, both during and in between perfomances. Tonnes of laughs and funny stories shared, new friends made and old friends bumped into.
It was an eclectic bunch of people from all walks of life and all ages that ended up being crowded into the little back bar in an Aussie country town. No one was overly concerned that their hair wasn't perfect, their make up had slid down their face slightly and they had a slight sheen of sweat from dancing in the pub where the airconditioner struggled to keep the place cool. This wasn't a hip, trendy little boho bar full of posers taking photos with their smartphones and pulling duck faces thinking it looked sexy (which, by the way, doesn't). If you went to the loo it was to pee, not to re-do your face so you look photoshop perfect for your upcoming facebook status.
This was unpretentious pub with a front bar full of old men who have sat on the same stool for 40 years, a dining room where you could a get a decent feed, families spilling onto the sidewalk with the kids running around with red, hot, happy faces and a little space out the back for wanna-be rock stars.
All in all the night had been a total hoot and one to remember with great one liners, moves like Jagger, and a brilliantly off-key rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Light sung with gusto by a much loved up and very cute younger couple.
It was 20 minutes to closing and the bartender had yelled last drinks and the lights were slowly coming up when it happened. It may sound like nothing to you but it's exactly what pisses me off about going out.
I felt an arm close around my body and a sweaty armpit press up against my side. The gesture was incredibly familiar. The way I was being touched is the way I would expect only a partner, family member or very close friend to touch me. I turned to look into the eyes of a complete stranger. A drunk, sweaty man who grinned self-assuredly at me. I raised an eyebrow in haughty disbelief. He loosened his hold a little but still kept his unwanted arm around me. I moved away and turned my face away from him. To me, a clear sign he could move on and leave me be. But no, that wasn't to be. He then asked if he could buy me a drink. I looked him directly in the eyes and said in a calm but firm voice "no thank you". He said "Hey I came over here to chat you up. You look like a 'friendly' girl to me." The emphasis on 'friendly' and his tone clearly indicated that what he really thought was 'easy'. His body language and tone made it clear he thought he was doing me a favour by talking to me. I replied "Well. Appearances can be deceiving can't they?" My tone clearly indicated that his attentions were unwelcome. I won't go into details about the dead end conversation that followed, but I eventually made it clear that I wasn't interested and he moved away and bitched to his friend that I was a stuck up whore. Nice.
I don't have many rules in my life - but manners are one of them. Oh yeah these two are pretty important to me as well.
Rule No.1 Don't approach me at closing time. I've been there all night, you had plenty of time to get to know me during the evening and discover I'm not a girl with low self-esteem waiting for you to arrive just before midnight and make my night.
Rule No.2 Don't touch me unless I've said it's okay. I appreciate that people may differ on this one. But for me, getting up in my personal space and touching me with familiarity is NOT okay unless I know you really well.
When you break these rules (or simple manners as I prefer to think of them) you're telling me you have no respect for me as a person. You're telling me all you want is a one night, no questions asked, get up in the morning, never see you again encounter. And I'm not okay with that. Because I wasn't put on this earth to be your one night play thing. So treat me with respect thanks. That's all I'm asking.
We then moved on to a big country pub where we met up with a few more friends. Hilariously, karaoke was the speciality of the night. With a few bevies under the belt for a bit of dutch courage, nearly everyone in the group got up and showed off the inner rock star. With voices ranging from "I can barely hold a tune" to "Holy crap you should try out for a reality singing competition tv show" everyone was having a barrel of laughs.
Lots of dancing was going on, both during and in between perfomances. Tonnes of laughs and funny stories shared, new friends made and old friends bumped into.
It was an eclectic bunch of people from all walks of life and all ages that ended up being crowded into the little back bar in an Aussie country town. No one was overly concerned that their hair wasn't perfect, their make up had slid down their face slightly and they had a slight sheen of sweat from dancing in the pub where the airconditioner struggled to keep the place cool. This wasn't a hip, trendy little boho bar full of posers taking photos with their smartphones and pulling duck faces thinking it looked sexy (which, by the way, doesn't). If you went to the loo it was to pee, not to re-do your face so you look photoshop perfect for your upcoming facebook status.
This was unpretentious pub with a front bar full of old men who have sat on the same stool for 40 years, a dining room where you could a get a decent feed, families spilling onto the sidewalk with the kids running around with red, hot, happy faces and a little space out the back for wanna-be rock stars.
All in all the night had been a total hoot and one to remember with great one liners, moves like Jagger, and a brilliantly off-key rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Light sung with gusto by a much loved up and very cute younger couple.
It was 20 minutes to closing and the bartender had yelled last drinks and the lights were slowly coming up when it happened. It may sound like nothing to you but it's exactly what pisses me off about going out.
I felt an arm close around my body and a sweaty armpit press up against my side. The gesture was incredibly familiar. The way I was being touched is the way I would expect only a partner, family member or very close friend to touch me. I turned to look into the eyes of a complete stranger. A drunk, sweaty man who grinned self-assuredly at me. I raised an eyebrow in haughty disbelief. He loosened his hold a little but still kept his unwanted arm around me. I moved away and turned my face away from him. To me, a clear sign he could move on and leave me be. But no, that wasn't to be. He then asked if he could buy me a drink. I looked him directly in the eyes and said in a calm but firm voice "no thank you". He said "Hey I came over here to chat you up. You look like a 'friendly' girl to me." The emphasis on 'friendly' and his tone clearly indicated that what he really thought was 'easy'. His body language and tone made it clear he thought he was doing me a favour by talking to me. I replied "Well. Appearances can be deceiving can't they?" My tone clearly indicated that his attentions were unwelcome. I won't go into details about the dead end conversation that followed, but I eventually made it clear that I wasn't interested and he moved away and bitched to his friend that I was a stuck up whore. Nice.
I don't have many rules in my life - but manners are one of them. Oh yeah these two are pretty important to me as well.
Rule No.1 Don't approach me at closing time. I've been there all night, you had plenty of time to get to know me during the evening and discover I'm not a girl with low self-esteem waiting for you to arrive just before midnight and make my night.
Rule No.2 Don't touch me unless I've said it's okay. I appreciate that people may differ on this one. But for me, getting up in my personal space and touching me with familiarity is NOT okay unless I know you really well.
When you break these rules (or simple manners as I prefer to think of them) you're telling me you have no respect for me as a person. You're telling me all you want is a one night, no questions asked, get up in the morning, never see you again encounter. And I'm not okay with that. Because I wasn't put on this earth to be your one night play thing. So treat me with respect thanks. That's all I'm asking.
Monday 9 January 2012
It's not about you
Sometimes the people around you forget that the difficult time you're going through is not happening to them. They get so emotionally invested in whatever "challenge" you're facing that it becomes about them and how they feel about it. What's worse is when you point out that this challenge is yours to face they act like you've got no idea what they're going through. (Hot tip here for emotional vampires - you're not going through it. I am.)
Well guess what. I'm not here to help you get through MY trauma. Damn it. I'm mad. When I got divorced, it was hijacked by a particular person in my life. Lets call them A. A's friends were sending her flowers because I was getting divorced and it was so hard on HER. Never mind that I couldn't sleep, eat, think or function, lost 30 kilos and became dangerously malnourished, suffered panic attacks that required medication. She felt sad about it and needed extra support. (Munchausen Syndrome anyone???)
I'm now going through another challenging time. And A is at it again. Hijacking my trauma and making it about them. It's gobsmackingly awful. On top of the challenge I'm facing A is accusing me of not caring enough to do anything about the trauma and that they are the only ones who truly care. As. If. (Just because I don't throw crockery at the walls does not mean I don't care - it means I can't afford new crockery.)
I'm dealing with my challenge in the most practical and responsible way available to me. I have sought and received expert help and am proceeding according to the experts advice. However A has assured me that the experts have it wrong and that only A knows how to handle it. Despite A never having even remotely coming close to knowing what this challenge is about. But hell, what do I know, I'm just living it.
In 2011 I came to the realisation that there was someone in my life, who shouldn't be, who still found a way to emotionally abuse and manipulate me. I put an end to my part in that relationship. Unfortunately, the situation escalated because the other person involved is not happy that I will not tolerate the abuse anymore.
I realised that A is doing the same in some respects. But in 2012 I'm not accepting that behaviour from anyone anymore and I stood up to A. It was difficult. It was horrible. The situation has escalated into a horrible fight. So I'm dealing with challenge upon challenge at the moment.
Yet I remain positive, because in among the challenges that I'm facing I'm finding a strength in the face of adversity I didn't know I was capable of feeling. (I wonder how Wonder Woman's bracelets would look on my wrists? Pretty effing awesome I reckon...)
Don't hijack my drama because you have none. Bloody be grateful you don't have any. And leave me to deal with mine the way I want to or for chrissakes get an effing hobby. This is my journey, my drama, my choice, my mistake to make, my triumph to celebrate - because this is MY life.
Well guess what. I'm not here to help you get through MY trauma. Damn it. I'm mad. When I got divorced, it was hijacked by a particular person in my life. Lets call them A. A's friends were sending her flowers because I was getting divorced and it was so hard on HER. Never mind that I couldn't sleep, eat, think or function, lost 30 kilos and became dangerously malnourished, suffered panic attacks that required medication. She felt sad about it and needed extra support. (Munchausen Syndrome anyone???)
I'm now going through another challenging time. And A is at it again. Hijacking my trauma and making it about them. It's gobsmackingly awful. On top of the challenge I'm facing A is accusing me of not caring enough to do anything about the trauma and that they are the only ones who truly care. As. If. (Just because I don't throw crockery at the walls does not mean I don't care - it means I can't afford new crockery.)
I'm dealing with my challenge in the most practical and responsible way available to me. I have sought and received expert help and am proceeding according to the experts advice. However A has assured me that the experts have it wrong and that only A knows how to handle it. Despite A never having even remotely coming close to knowing what this challenge is about. But hell, what do I know, I'm just living it.
In 2011 I came to the realisation that there was someone in my life, who shouldn't be, who still found a way to emotionally abuse and manipulate me. I put an end to my part in that relationship. Unfortunately, the situation escalated because the other person involved is not happy that I will not tolerate the abuse anymore.
I realised that A is doing the same in some respects. But in 2012 I'm not accepting that behaviour from anyone anymore and I stood up to A. It was difficult. It was horrible. The situation has escalated into a horrible fight. So I'm dealing with challenge upon challenge at the moment.
Yet I remain positive, because in among the challenges that I'm facing I'm finding a strength in the face of adversity I didn't know I was capable of feeling. (I wonder how Wonder Woman's bracelets would look on my wrists? Pretty effing awesome I reckon...)
Don't hijack my drama because you have none. Bloody be grateful you don't have any. And leave me to deal with mine the way I want to or for chrissakes get an effing hobby. This is my journey, my drama, my choice, my mistake to make, my triumph to celebrate - because this is MY life.
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