Why I had to like Nickelback for three minutes

Yesterday morning on the drive during school drop off, Nickelback came on my radio.  My teenage son, quickly changed the station and we both made snide Nickelback comments.  Quietly, from the back seat, my younger son said "They aren't that bad.  Nanna likes them".  My teenager and I laughed obnoxiously at how that comment did not make Nickelback cooler.

Later that night I attended the South Australian Primary Schools Festival of Music choir night at the Festival Theatre.  My youngest son was in the choir and very excited about the performance.  He'd been practicing for weeks.

I stood around and made awkward small talk with parents I'm not really friendly with, snuck off to grab a champagne to steel my nerves (for my son) and took my seat at the Festival Theatre quietly excited about seeing my son perform in an event that I, myself, performed in, 32 years ago.

I tweeted my excitement and a fellow parent tweeted back "You'll cry in the first song".  I sat there smugly, sure that I would just find it terribly amusing in a primary school kid kind of way.

The curtain rose and a rainbow of kids in candy coloured t-shirts appeared.  The auditorium was silent and the kids on stage rubbed their hands together, creating an impressive visual and audible effect.  They then started clicking, then smacking their thighs as an African landscape appeared on the screen behind them.  Suddenly in a wave like effect they all stomped and a flash of light appeared and I realised that what they were creating with the different sounds, was the sound of a thunderstorm.  I felt my eyes well up.  They started with "Africa" by Toto.  A song I remember hearing on the radio in my youth, while eating toast and listening to Baz & Pilko on early morning radio.  The tears fell.

A torrent of tears snaked down my face when the 400 strong choir sung Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror".  (YES WE CAN ALL MAKE A CHANGE PEOPLE, WE JUST NEED TO START WITH THE MAN IN THE MIRROR AND MY HEART IS SWELLING AND THE TEARS ARE FALLING).

Suffice it to say that I laughed and cried and clapped my way through the concert every inch a proud parent.

But the best bit was yet to come.  My teenage son had attended the concert with his father, so we weren't sitting together, but when the presenter announced the last song I howled with laughter, much to the disgust of the people next to me.  Why?  Because it was a Nickelback song.  Yes.  They ended with a Nickelback song. I can't even tell you what it was, not being a fan, but I could just picture my teenagers face.  HORRIFIED.

After the concert ended and while I was waiting for the teachers to appear with my child, I checked facebook. As you do.  My teenager had posted:  I was at my little brothers choir concert and all was going well until the last song.  They played Nickelback.  No.  Just No.

I doubled over with laughter again.  I think the parents think I'm very odd.  But at least I understand now, why my youngest son defended Nickelback.  And why for three minutes of my life - I liked Nickelback.

Survivor

I have a sunny disposition.  I'm a positive person.  I like to be light hearted and irreverent.  Sometimes people think that's all there is to me.  They don't see the intelligence or sensitivity behind the cheek.  For the most part I'm okay with that.  But today, I'm not.  I'm not okay with people thinking I'm dumb and insensitive.

I'm relatively open about what happens in my life because I like my life and I have no shame, regrets or embarrassment about how I choose to live.  Because for a long time I didn't choose how I lived, it was chosen for me.

There is a reason for that.  I'm a survivor of abuse.  I don't share that often and even today I'm not going to talk about the abuse because it's not how I define myself.  But the abuse has left an indelible stamp on me and that's what I want to talk about today.

To survive in a relationship where you don't know what is going to set off the abuse you learn to read people's body language very well.  Extraordinarily well.  You have to.  Because you have to read the warning signs.  I can read micro expressions incredibly well and I'm hyper aware of people all the time.  It's now bordering on an instinctual behaviour with me.

This makes me highly anxious.  If I walk into a situation where things are tense my flight or fight instinct goes into overdrive.  Even when the tension has nothing to do with me whatsoever.  I've learnt to hide that anxiety when in public.  It hits me a lot at home where I feel safe and I can allow the panic to win for a little while.  I also know how to come out of that panic and deal with it, thanks to counselling.

Because I feel like the abuse pretty much trained me to observe what was going on around me at all times and be ready to quickly deal with what was coming, I read micro expressions at a glance. This means, more often that not, I can sense what people are hiding and/or truly feeling.  I'm privy to a lot of secrets people aren't even aware that they've shared with me.  Oh I'm not talking great details. I'm not psychic. But I can pick a hidden emotion at 20 paces. Ninety percent of the time I ignore what I see.  Not because I don't care, but because it has nothing to do with me.  I'll only act or react if I think the person or situation requires it and even then I'll often think about it and try to think ahead of ways the situation will pan out should I say something.

It almost means it's almost impossible to lie to me.  This is a great thing as a parent.  My kids can't get away with anything and they know it.  So they don't even try.  This is not a great thing as a member of the human race, because people lie a lot.  Most of them badly.   Kind, little white lies, no big deal.  Compassion and kindness more often that not are the drivers of this behaviour and if we can make the world a little more kind and allow people to save face, then I'm all for it.  But sometimes the lies are cruel, mean and plain stupid and those times I don't understand and it perplexes me.  I'm often shocked by it.  The fact I still get shocked, shocks me, because it happens often.  I'll never get used to it.  I guess I'll never be a cynical person, no matter how hard I try.  This is a good thing.

I've been planning this post for quite a while and even now I'm not sure how to end it or what purpose it's supposed to serve.  I just knew I had to write it.  I guess I'm learning how to be more vulnerable and this is a step in that process.  There's more to me than silly banter.

There's more to a lot of people if you just take the time to notice.

Today and tomorrow.

I love who I am.  I wouldn't want to be anybody else.

I am independent.  Today I want to lean on someone.

I am strong.  Today I'm very weak.

I am okay being on my own.  Today I am lonely.

I have a sunny disposition. Today I am in shadows.

I am flexible.  Today I feel brittle.

I am a single parent. Today I need a partner.

I love what I do for a living. Today I didn't do it well.

I am good at looking after people's needs.  Today I want someone to care for mine.

I'm good at juggling lots of different balls. Today they are scattered around me on the floor.

I'm always hopeful.  Today I feel helpless.

I'm brave.  Today I was fearful.

I laugh every day.  Today I want to cry.

I'm forgiving.  Today I am angry.

Today I wish I was somebody else.

Tomorrow I will be me again.

Goddess of Plenty...

...plenty of dishes, plenty of carbs, plenty of drinks....

I'm 3 weeks into my fitness program and I have to say this week I had too much plenty.

It was my birthday so I treated myself.  With a special dinner and plenty of cake.  And I don't feel the slightest bit of guilt.  I have recently taken up baking and I enjoyed the fruits (okay the chocolate ganache) of my labour.  In fact, I enjoyed it twice.

My work colleague recently did me a huge favour and fixed my computer.  He bought it back from the dead.  I baked him scones to say thank you.  I ate some of the scones.  With Jam. And Cream.  Because. Scones.

I didn't feel guilty about that either.

The scales may not weigh in my favour this week - but I'm in this for the long run.  It's not about dropping massive kilos, it's not about looking like anyone else, it's about finding the best version of me.  If I only drop 2 kilos but feel strong, healthy and happy then so be it.

But hell if you can't enjoy cake (and maybe a couple of scotches) on your birthday then quite frankly I'd like to quit the human race now.  Because life is for living, enjoying, relishing and taking immense pleasure in.

Oh and hey, now that I'm baking and not poisoning anyone, I guess I'm a goddess in another room of the house now?  Ha!  But just for balance, I must confess I'll never be a goddess of housework. Because UGH.

Kill me now if I ever blog about the joys of ironing...

Perversity, potential and pastry

I'm a highly creative and highly organised person (often these two traits don't go together), so you'd think that cooking would satisfy by both my creative and organised side - but that's not the case.

I was a fussy eater as a child and it wasn't until in my 20s I discovered a love of eating food, but I did not discover a love of cooking food.  Whatever I could cook the fastest and with the least amount of trouble was on the menu - when I wasn't organising takeaway.

But at the start of 2013 I gave away sugar and highly processed food.  This changed my cooking (and eating) habits. I still didn't really enjoy cooking as such, but I was definitely doing more of it.

In April this year I got full time work.  Meaning I had less time to be at home and prepare meals.  Perversely, this made me more determined to provide nourishing, home cooked meals for myself and my kids.  Probably because everyone thought I couldn't do it - after all I hardly did it while working part time.

Then on top of full time work I took on presenting a radio show once a month. (Directors Cut on your local ABC Digital station if you'd like to tune in)  A half an hour show doesn't sound like a lot - except for the fact that I have to review an entire lifetime of  our chosen director's work, research how he works, organise questions, interview my regular guest, edit it and package it up on top of full time work.  Add to this, the fact that I volunteer for a community theatre company preparing the programs for their shows and I'm currently in pre-production for a play with my own little production company and one could say life was busy.  Oh, did I mention I'm a single parent?  My life is crazy-busy full and I love it.

People have said to me "Oh you'll never be able to keep this up", and this is where my perversity comes into it.  Because: yes I will.  I love being busy. I THRIVE on being busy.  I'm a better person when I'm busy.  When I have nothing to do - I become a lazy, lousy, unmotivated, boring, putrifying piece of  flesh on my couch.

But I still had time to spare.  What to do with it I said?  (The busier I am, the more I find to do - as I said PERVERSE).  Then I discovered GABO (Great Australian Bake Off).  I don't watch cooking shows. Ugh.  Everyone is on a journey.  Everyone cries when their souffle falls or their beef isn't perfectly pink in the middle (the only time I've ever seen people cry over food is when I serve up dinner at my house).

I only watched this as my colleague and friend Monique was on it.  At the end of the first show, my eldest son said to me "Well you could never do that".  RED FLAG TO A BULL.

I spent the weekend making Monique's swimming pool showstopper cake.  It took 6 hours. But I did it.  Since then I've discovered a love of baking.  Weirdly it's not for the finished product.  It's for the intense concentration and focus I have to have.  It's like meditation.  Whatever stresses I have in my life (admittedly not many) fade away as I concentrate not to fuck up a cake.

Unfortunately for me, this love of baking has coincided with me starting signing up to a 12 week fitness program.  No more licking the spoons for me.  I'm not going to stop baking.  I'm just going to share the cake around.  I was only 2 days into this program when GABO decided to a show on cheesecakes.  I. LOVE. CHEESECAKE.  I would MARRY cheesecake.  Monique had to go and make one of my favourite flavours of cheesecake - baked sour cream and blueberry cheesecake (the couch cushions did receive a fair amount of drool that night).  But I didn't run to the cupboard and stuff my face with sweet things. I sipped on my herbal tea and envisioned my wobbly thighs not being wobbly anymore and got through it.

It's truly perverse that when I discover a love of cooking rich foods and baking decadent desserts that I start a nutrition kick.  But as I've said I'm perverse.  Let's hope my new found love of pastry doesn't get in the way of my fitness potential.  Like Monique, I'd rather be a sporty baker and leave my wibble-wobble as the description for my cheesecake.

Food, food, glorious food

I'm going to come right out and say it. I LOVE FOOD.  LOVE IT.  I'm not one of those "eat to live" people.  I'm not necessarily a "live to eat" person either.  But I love food.  I love healthy, nutritious food and I love super rich, fatty, clog your arteries feel guilty afterwards food.  Eating is an awesome experience.  I cherish food.  We're all clear on how I feel about food, right?  But sometimes I can go a whole day without eating.  I forget.  What type of person who loves food, can forget it?  But I do.

The best way to describe my eating habits is indiscriminate.  Now that I'm over 40 though, this indiscriminate eating habit of mine is not working for me.  Oh, it's fine in your teens and early 20s...but not so much now.

I'm a fairly active person.  I don't go to the gym.  I don't walk daily, in fact I'm a bit of a couch potato from about 6:30 onwards most weeknights.  But from the moment I get up, til the moment I sit down and watch the umpteenth re-run of Friends that I STILL find funny (Oh Chandler marry me, I love you still) I pretty much lay on the couch, drink cups of tea and occasionally scrounge whatever sweet stuff I can find in my pantry during the commercial breaks.

That's pretty hard for me because I don't buy rubbish food.  In fact I order my food online so I don't get tempted at the supermarket chocolate aisle, or the chip aisle or the fridges that stock the soft, gooey cheese that I like.  So I end up eating tablespoons of milo, nutella or lemon spread on the occasions the sweet cravings get the better of me.

On the weekends I have my children, Saturday night is junk food night.  They get to choose so it's generally pizza or MacDonalds, eaten with much gusto and fighting over who's getting that extra chicken nugget.  Yes I take food out of their mouths.  Mother. Of. The. Year.  I've even occasionally hidden treats and opened them after they went to bed.  Because I deserve it.  You know, being a single parent and all.  Actually just for breathing.

But now has come the time to take stock, put down the fairy bread and stop eating cheezels off my fingers (unless it's my birthday - then all bets are off).

So I've done something I swore I'd never do, because I don't believe in "dieting" and I don't believe a person's life focus should be how small their bum is in a pair of jeans.  But I signed up for a fitness program.  I'm not interested in becoming super skinny.  I'm never going to be that girl.  Even when I was at my fittest, I still had an arse that had people quoting Sir Mixalot at me.  I have curves.  I like my curves.  I'm not that fond of the jelly centre that's covering the curves at the moment, nor am I fond of the way my jeans seem to cut into me by about 3:30pm every day.  It's an uncomfortable feeling.

Now I'm cool with being outside my comfort zone, but I don't think worrying about your muffin top is what people are referring to when they use that saying, so it's time do something about it.  And I know me. I'm a team player and I'm competitive so to sign up to something where others are involved seems worth a shot to me.

So this blog is putting it out there. Holding me accountable.  I've got a friend on the outside and a work colleague on the inside to help keep me honest.  Oh I'm 100% positive I'll slip up and sneak a cheezel, and a few scotches, but life is still for living.  But I want to be sure I'm around to live it. So I'm going to give this thing a go.

Let's hope I'm not too sore to blog about the progress.  Let's hope I'm whiny and funny about the places I never knew I had to hurt.  Please God, let ME find it funny at least.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow

Nothing like a bit of Fleetwood Mac for inspiration.  That was our encore song for our cabaret show, Love Lust & Everything in Between.  Yep. Cabaret Show.  Let me backtrack 12 months.

I was sharing a coffee with my friend Celeste and we were bemoaning the fact that people around us see us as one particular way and we're feeling frustrated knowing that there is more to us than people  see.  BUT, and here's the difference....instead of just having a whine about it and continuing on with our lives as they were, we decided to CHANGE our worlds.  Everyone thought we were mad.  No one thought we could do it.  Lots of people said it was a mistake.  Some people said we were brave (but the intonation was "cray-cray")

Discussions around a kitchen table turned a dream  into a plan and another friend joined our team, Barbara.

The music came first.  And then from the music, came a story.  From the story came a script. From a script came a talent call out.  Some answered no, some answered yes. Those that answered yes, put their faith into the hands of amateurs with a trust I didn't know really existed.  Suddenly we were five, with Jess and Gus on board.

Meetings around a kitchen table became instructions to cast members.  Rehearsals in a hall soon got changed to rehearsals in a kitchen with a dining table and a rug pushed back against the windows.  A couple of practices with a band on a hot summers day in a boiling hot garage and we had a working "practice cd".  More rehearsals in a kitchen with two boys listening from the lounge room and offering "criticism". 

A venue was found, a sound technician came on board, lights were borrowed, insurances checked and all that remained was the necessary audience.

The date grew closer.  Tickets were handed out to our cast and friends, family, work colleagues were alternately begged, coerced, bribed and pleaded with to buy tickets.  Finally, we had enough sales to cover costs.  Phew.  Met the required number of 85.  

Time crept up on us and before we knew it the day had arrived.  A flurry of last minute tickets were bought and at 132 seats, the show was officially a sell out.  SHIT.  Now we really, truly have to be good.

Bump in occurs.  Lines forgotten, songs off key, performers ill.  Power cords missing.  Surely it will be a disaster?

5:30 pm rocks around and the crowd is early.  Tickets say DOORS OPEN AT 6PM but people are early.  Cast is not ready.  PANIC. PANIC. PANIC. For better or worse LOVE, LUST & EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN is on.

Hearts, pounding, voices lifted, characters on display.  It's happening people.  I can't even describe the performance.  But those who have performed know that it's a kind of magic, when it's right and the next two hours for us, are magical.

8:45.  Show's over.  Bows taken.  Thanks are read out to all who helped and supported and then finally I say "Tonight was our Dream...and when it comes to Love, and Dreaming, don't stop.  The band plays our final song and with joy and exuberance we sing our hearts out to the people who came to see us.  I can see mobile phones being waved in the air (the way lighters used to be) I can see people on their feet dancing with us, singing with us, I can see clapping and cheering and stomping and the world stops for just a little bit.

We did it.  From merely a seed, we grew something amazing and we changed our world. I will forever be proud of this achievement.