Interesting development

For the first time in my entire life, I regret turning down a social function. I said no because I thought I'd feel stressed and nervous even though I would have been well looked after. Now I just feel sad that I didn't even try. I'm in my safe place, but it's not as perfect as it used to be. I think I might try to make more of an effort. I've let myself get lazy lately.

Scrivener and Endnote have fucked me over

Wow. I have had the most unproductive and horribly frustrating day.

I use Scrivener to work on my thesis.  What an epic mistake.  It refuses to talk to Endnote (which in itself is shitty and frustrating) and no matter how many times I follow the thousands of online instructions on making citations work, they just refuse. I have wasted weeks on this and I wish I could get all that time back.

Sure, Scrivener is awesome if you are in the sciences or doing creative writing. But for arts it's shockingly bad.  For history, it's back-breakingly painful.

I don't know what to do. I can go back to using word, or find another writing/citation tool.

I want to beat the crap out of everyone in my way, and most of all I want to beat the crap out of Christmas for fucking up my time.

FUCK EVERYTHING FUCK FUCK FUCK.

I cannot do a thesis part time and work full-time. I am seriously considering using all my leave early next year and just hiding away at my house (I'll have to send Mr G away somewhere) for weeks until I sort this bastard of a thing out.  In fact, that's exactly what I'll do. I can't live like this - I'm going to give myself a nervous breakdown.

Can't sleep, so panic.

It's past 11pm. I can't sleep, and I need to get up early tomorrow.

Today I did loads of uni work, which should have put me at ease. Instead I'm more freaked out than ever because I underestimated the epic pile of stuff that needs doing.

Fuuuuck.

Yes

http://thesiswhisperer.com/2011/10/20/5-ways-to-soothe-an-anxious-phd-student/

That's why I love my dad so much. When I cry about work he just feeds me then leaves me the fuck alone.

People DIE from thesisitis. It's a real thing and it can really kill you. Or cause your partner/friends to kill you. My psych said it's as painful and stressful as giving birth.  I couldn't comment since I am child-free.  Still, I'm in pain and I'm stressed and it's my baby, so I sort of understand.*

I'm back in the game today with 4 major problems solved and a vague idea of when I can send the draft to mum for a good hearty editing.

*No I don't. It's probably nothing like children.

timing

This is tough. I work full-time and I need to fit in 16 hours of thesis work a week.  I have the following options.

Both of these options assume that I get to work at 8am, and therefore wake up at 6:30am. If I want to workout, I need to be up at 5:30am.  This means getting to bed at 9-9:30 EVERY NIGHT. Which I'd be quite happy with. But they also only give me 3-4 hours a week of house stuff, which means cooking, cleaning, laundry and grocery shopping. That doesn't sound feasible. Timetable 1 gives me 10 hours of spare time, two which are non-negotiable. Timetable 2 gives me an entire Sunday off, but a brutal Saturday.

This is the final winner. I am now available for Sunday breakfast bookings. Nobody can encroach on any other times because it will ruin me and I might cry.

It's a bit hard knowing that my two great loves take up all my time. I have no people on this timetable.  My psych told me that the thesis is a real commitment, and I have to treat it as such.

True. I should know that. It's a second job really.

I can budget.

I've given up.

I am a shell of my former self.

The only thing I have right now is that I can budget so well I have somehow managed to save a few hundred dollars in my 'emergency' account in a stupidly short space of time.

So I've decided to open a 'frivolous things' account. I NEED this account so that I can place my hope and faith in material goods.

I will buy a jaunty hat, a stuffed crow and a colourful array of headbands.

HA HA HA! I will conquer this nasty 'emergency' feeling by purchasing things.

Coffee addiction

I say I have three cups of coffee a day. But what I mean is I get to three then I stop counting.

Yesterday I didn't have any coffee at all. And I got a raging headache and felt like shit.

Today I also didn't have any coffee, and I got a headache and felt average.

My body is exhausted. My mind is shattered and I am not coping well at all. I have no ability to withstand suggestion. Someone says "let's do this" and I just say "sure" without considering all the factors - travel, time, fatigue.

So I drank coffee to keep going. I was at the point where I couldn't function without it. Mr G and I had to make an emergency stop at a cafe after the funeral.

So I'm stopping with the coffee. I can't gauge how well I feel if I'm dosed up on caffeine all day. It sucks. I'll have even less energy. Work, thesis, food. No friends, no loved ones. I almost cried on a 10 minute walk today. I can't spread my time/energy out anymore.

I give it until the end of November. If I'm not starting to get better by then, I'm taking unpaid leave and moving home. I just can't do this. 

Mr G

Mr G's dad died.

I went home for a night to stay with him. There was no food.  He cried, got mad at me, told me how much he loves me then promised me the universe.
I didn't want the universe. I wanted love and attention.

That's really it. Because when you love someone you listen to them. You try to please them.

I don't want money and I don't want surprise gifts (got a pair of shoes). I wanted talking. Lots of talking. I wanted some understanding - I am so tired my bones hurt. I can't think because I'm in a fog and I just want to sleep and read all day.

At the same time, I want to be there for him. I want to help him and hug him when he cries and take care of him. I love him so much, I can't stand seeing him so shattered.

Memorial service is tomorrow.

Thanks parents

Mum and dad have told me I can live in their flat for a couple of months. I'm moving this weekend - they've put their foot down and told me they'll be expecting me to come round on Saturday with my stuff because we'll be having a family meeting (oh god) about my 'situation' so that we're all on the same page. Mum, dad, my sister and me. In a room. Talking about my love life.

:-/

I think they just want to check that I'm not having a breakdown.* I suspect that my dry, rational and emotionless behaviour has been scaring them.  Plus, they know I feel confused and upset, and I think that they're just not willing for me to just sit around the house wringing my hands.

I love it when they jump into action. They've basically constructed a mini-intervention.  Well done olds.

*I'm about 75% sure that I'm not.

Should have been said years ago

When I first met you I didn't know what to think of you. You were tall and arrogant looking. You kept arguing with me, but you were very flirtatious. I found it confronting. You found it amusing to say terrible things to make me blush, which at the time wasn't really very difficult.

Then you just kept it up. Challenging me. We started to talk on MSN. First casually chatting about our assignments, then it was epic discussions about our lives and love and the future. Then all of a sudden you were beautiful and I loved you. I went to EVERY class because you were there. I tried harder. I learnt more. I didn't realise what a hunger I have to know more, and what an expectation I have for people to be like you, and take the time to explain things to me.

We got a bit drunk right before my presentation because I was so scared. You decided Dutch courage was the only way for me to get through it. You were right, because I forgot all about that tutor I liked and just stormed through it - all the while wondering what kind of fool I was to put my marks in your hands. From memory, I got a HD.

I think that one of the best nights of my life was when it was 2am or some similar stupid hour, and we were working on our theses. I still have a copy of your track changes somewhere. Out of all the things in our messed up friendship that I deleted, there were two things I kept. The marked up copy and the first time you said 'I love you'.

You gave me books and music to listen to. Right now I have The Unbearable Lightness of Being next to me, because I love it. And it's strange because I don't know if I would have loved it the same way if I had found it on my own. You know that feeling when you love a book so much you feel like it is reading you? I've decided to reread some of your books in the hope that I'll either recognise that feeling or discover that the books can be put aside because the initial love I felt was confused and artificial.

The music I kept.

I think Carry Me Ohio is still one of my favourite songs. You kept telling me to listen to it. I used to wonder if that was your way of telling me you didn't love me enough to stay. To be honest, I was ok with that, because you made me fundamentally dissatisfied with my life, and that meant I went off into the world and had adventures.

The past year or two we haven't really talked. I've missed you. And now you're doing the best thing in the world! I love getting post. I mean, I go mad for it. First time I got a letter from Mr C I almost died from happiness. And now I get something from you too.

I've really missed talking to you.

Brunswick, shit men, sexual assault, good men

I want to talk about something really upsetting. Everyone in Melbourne knows about the recent murder that happened.

It upsets me that some people are now talking about what women should and shouldn't do. As if murder and rape can be prevented by a woman if she does something differently. What these assholes don't realise is that most women spend their entire lives adjusting their behaviour to keep themselves safe.

It enrages me. I don't think I know any women who haven't been in some way physically assaulted or sexually harassed.

It's how it is and it is shit. If you're a guy and you go out with your guy friends, do you stare at pretty women? Do you shout things at them? Call out to them because you're just having a laugh?

Or do you just stare then make a few comments about them?  Even if that's all, you're still part of the problem. We do have eyes you know. We can tell when you're staring, and when you turn to your buddies and you all laugh, we know you've probably said something offensive, lewd or cruel about us. Since you don't know us, you're probably talking about our bodies, our face and how we look.

At night, women walk under street lights. We walk in the middle of the road so we can tell if someone approaches. We keep our hands free. A policeman once told me to make sure I never have my headphones in at night, because rapists look for that so they can have an element of surprise. That scared the shit out of me.

I used to be terrified of groups of men. Mainly because I didn't know many good ones. I knew men that would stand behind their buddies, uncomfortable about the leering, the catcalls and the outright sexual harassment, but they would never have the guts to say or doing anything against it.

Anyway, I left my horrid hometown, and moved into the real world. And I found that wonderful men are out there in greater numbers than the jerks. The feral and frightening men are vocal and loud and screaming for our attention. The good men are pulling their mates into line and making sure that they set good examples.

The murder has terrified my father. He keeps texting me and calling me to see if I'm alright. Fair enough, I'm the irresponsible baby of the family and my parents still think I'm five. But to be completely honest, I'm not scared. I'm distressed for the woman in question and her family and friends. I'm horrified that this can happen to someone (and that last year I used to walk those streets on my own after dark). I'm fucking angry about the victim blaming bullshit that always crops up. But I love Melbourne. This is my city and I love it. It has scum. It has drug addicts. It has rapists. It also has the nice (but scary looking) guy that sat with me and chatted at some godforsaken train station late at night so that I'd feel safe (pity I thought he was going to attack me). It has the guy who is so nervous he can barely talk to any women, but who stood up for me. It has the guys I know who can't pull their mates into line because their mates are all GOOD MEN.

I'm not scared of men. I'm scared of psychos.

This should have been on the list

I'm shaking like a leaf.

My very first academic paper has been published.

You can't possibly be shy

This is too beautiful. I don't know why you never post yourself singing. I'd have liked that.It's been an age and I've never heard you sing.

Secret list

I have a secret list. Full of secret goals that can’t go on the main list because they’re either too weird or unconventional or people might try to talk me out of it.

Mr N knows a few of them, and now an opportunity to cross one off has come up. Around my birthday no less!  So I emailed him for some encouragement and got back one line basically saying “I dare you.”

I dare me too. Game on.

I'm really enjoying living:-D

Open letter to a friend

YOU WERE HITTING ON ME.

I usually don't notice because I'm a bit oblivious. But I noticed this.

And it's not cool. You're my friend. I told you what's been going on because we're close. Please don't make awkward passes at me, it's weird and I hate it.

Worst part is, you're awesome. I mean, if I was into casual flings, I'd be loving your attention. You're funny and smart and I love talking to you. But I want love and you want a quick lay.

If you hit on me again I'm going to call you out on it and I will make it as awkward as possible.

Friends forever,

From Miss A

Friends again?

Mr N and I seem to be talking again. I know, I'm rolling my eyes too.

I've missed him. I told him how scared I am. He told me things to make me feel less alone.

He emailed me this:

“I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish… You see, it is difficult to get all which I want. And then when I do not succeed I get mad with anger.” ― Simone de Beauvoir

"Beauvoir chose to never marry and did not set up a joint household with Sartre. She never had children.This gave her time to earn an advanced academic degree, to join political causes and to travel, write, teach, and to have (both male and female – the latter often shared) lovers." (Wikipedia)

Mr N has given me a torch and a rope to climb out of my misery cave and that will do. Perhaps there is some hope for creatures like me after all.

I think I have my friend back and that is such a lovely feeling.

chemicals and babies

I had a bit of a cry on the train home today.

There was a really little girl that looked like a tiny version of me.  she was wearing a fairy costume and had an Abby Cadabby showbag.

I cried because I realised that right now my choices mean I will probably not have children.  And that is bullshit because I have wanted a little girl for so long it hurts.

Sounds dramatic? Of course it does. But I have fertility issues that mean things were always going to be a bit complicated. The longer I wait, the less chance I have.

I'm almost 29. It's really very young for most things. But not for this.

Even if I fall in love tomorrow, and embark on the perfect relationship, I'm on the back foot now. I spent four years building a life with Mr G so we could have babies. That's all changed now. I somewhat feel like I'm never going to have any and I need to just be OK with that.

So I cried and felt very alone.


Then I thought the same thing I always think. How do I stop caring about this?

Science. Science is always the answer. I found myself some poorly written and dubious articles about chemicals and hormones. I love that. Forget the studies, if fake science tells me what I need to hear, it'll do just fine.

Emotion can be stripped down and de-humanised. It makes acceptance of shitty things easier. Sure, it's hurting and it's horrible. But I am just a machine. A human machine that is programmed to feel like this. Humans are meant to breed. It's our function. Breed, then protect the young.

I get ONE day to feel upset about this. I am allowing myself one small day (a Sunday at work where I will get to see heaps of cute babies) to be mopey. That's all. Because chemicals don't deserve more.

Yeah, I know. It hasn't really worked. But I'm not crying anymore. So fuck you oxytocin and co. Take you away and I bet I didn't really want babies anyway.

Second novel

We are at 82677 words.
A fully fleshed out plot.

Today I realised that Mr N has been there since I started the novel, and he's still there as I finish it. It's been five years now.

I thought I could exorcise him through writing, but I was horribly wrong. I think I just made it worse.

Sometimes we send these angry/wistful 'what if' emails to each other, wishing that things had turned out differently.  How could they have? I wanted love, he wanted adventure. I wanted him to be mine and only mine, he wanted to sleep with other women. Which some women are alright with, but it's just not ok for me. I don't want someone who can't make me feel special. Sure, he made me feel sexy and wanted, but I never felt like I was what he wanted the most. I felt like I was one of many. I don't blame him at all - I still find it really difficult to understand how I feel about him, so how was I meant to articulate it to him? He made me so curious all the time, but eventually that wears off - you don't want to know any more because it'll only hurt.

Every year I start the second novel, then I realise I've put bits of reality in - he's there, staring at me again.


Last week I started a new one.  It's entirely fictional.

All the best songs are about love

I love my iPod so much that I have taken to wearing it around my neck at work, just in case something boring happens and I can sneak the headphone in.

1. Stone Temple Pilots: Still Remains
I think this might be the best love song ever written.

2. Iron and Wine: The Trapeze Swinger, Upward Over the Mountain, Flightless Bird American Mouth
These all just break my heart. The Trapeze Swinger (favourite of the moment) and Such Great Heights make me want to run away and have adventures. Flightless Bird American Mouth is gorgeous. It makes me think of The Notebook (and no, I don't mean Twilight). I have a sneaking suspicion that Iron and Wine is probably responsible for people falling in love when they shouldn't.

3. Obvian: Mr Wineglass
This is embarrassing. I've known Nath for 13 years now. Hearing him play his version of The Good Gardener is pretty much the best thing in the world. I'm so cranky that I don't have a better version of this video. I've seen him play it 1000x and I never thought to video it. Next time. I'm not sure how he managed to write something that I love so much. It seems unreal - he's a massively talented artist as well. Not fair really. This recording of Mr. Wineglass is average. Luckily I have the real version to marvel at.

4. Radiohead:  Thinking About You
This is a bit of a brutal song. Not good for times of sadness.

5. The Smiths: I Know It's Over
I first heard the Jeff Buckley cover, which introduced me to The Smiths.

6. Plain White T's: Hey There Delilah
This is just the cutest song in the world. When this came out, there wasn't a girl alive who wasn't completely in love with it. "A thousand miles seems pretty far, but they've got planes and trains and cars, I'd walk to you if I had no other way" *tear*. It's adorable.

And in no particular order:
Tim Buckley: I Never Asked to be Your Mountain (because I didn't)
Sun Kil Moon: Lily and Parrots (a friend once told me this was the worst song she'd ever heard...)
Pearl Jam: Smile
Dave Matthews Band: Two Step (again, responsible for many a girl falling in love by accident)
Kid Dynamite: Wristrocket
Frank Turner: To Take You Home (apparently this relationship didn't work out)
Elliott Smith/Mary Lou Lord: I Figured You Out
Augie March: The Good Gardener 
The Mamas & The Papas: Twist and Shout (this is a fantastic cover)

This has been a fun post.

Claiming the right to be unhappy

My favourite moment in Brave New World is when John talks to Mustapha Mond about civilisation, God and life.
"But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin."

"In fact," said Mustapha Mond, "you're claiming the right to be unhappy."

"All right then," said the Savage defiantly, "I'm claiming the right to be unhappy."

Life would be terrible if everything went exactly as planned. If I didn't have a dangerous tendency to throw caution to the wind (and silence that little voice saying "Miss A, you know better"), then I wouldn't have gone through my any of my favourite experiences, which all required a bit of nerve and a fair amount of stupidity.

I might be wicked and selfish and difficult but that's OK. Because when it comes down to it: “I'd rather be myself," he said. "Myself and nasty. Not somebody else, however jolly.”

"Prettier without your glasses"

Recently I dropped my glasses and scratched up my lenses. No big deal, I've had them for 6ish years now and I have plenty of contacts. Contacts can be sort of annoying when I'm in a hurry to leave the house, which is why I rarely wear them, even though I much prefer them.

I had no idea what a big deal it would be to abandon my glasses. First it was fine. Coffee guy commented in a very factual way, and asked if I like them better than my glasses. No problem there. Four or five people at work walked straight past me without noticing me at all. First I felt like Clark Kent, then I felt like maybe I'm a jerk and they're using this to avoid me. Sigh.

Then a guy who calls me 'lolly legs' when I wear coloured tights said 'HELLO GORGEOUS!' when he saw me. He just blurted it out and stared. Now, I must stress that he's not creepy. He's a non-creepy older dude. He never leers and he doesn't make me feel uncomfortable. So really, when a person you like calls you gorgeous, you take it as a compliment. Then the next day I got an email saying:

I would just like to apologise for my slip up in terms of political correctness yesterday. I hope you didn't take it to seriously because there was nothing meant by it .

I was horrified, and assured him that I was not in any way offended.

What did offend me was the idiot that told me "You look prettier without your glasses."

Mr G thinks he was just trying to compliment me. :-/ I think that I look my best when I'm happy, glasses or no glasses.

500 workout

So that I don't forget, I'm going to start posting some of my sessions with Sam.

When he first said "we're doing the 500 today" I laughed to myself and thought "poor thing means the 300". But no, he meant exactly what he said.

Lunges x 50
Squats x 50
Pushups x 50
Hurdle jumps x 50
Bicep curls x 50
Rows x 50
Shuttle runs x 50
Bridges (one leg) x 25 each leg
Burpees x 50
Tricep dips x 50

There was NO way I could do this as it's written. Sam kindly gave me permission to mix it up a bit if I couldn't do a straight 50. Lunges and squats were easy. Pushups were tough. Got to 20 and fell down. Swapped between hurdle jumps, bicep curls and pushups for the next 130. Rows and shuttle runs were swapped (25, 25, 25, 25), then the bridges were done in one go. The burpees and tricep dips were swapped as well (25, 25, 25, 25).

Brutal but damn effective. I probably wouldn't be busting this out again in a hurry - the soreness today is pretty bad. Why the hell does my ribcage hurt???

Today is a rest day, and tomorrow I'm going to try one of the NF workouts.

How to survive glandular fever

I'd like to publicly announce that I've officially flipped the bird to glandular. Life will go on exactly as before, but I'll cut things out in a very selective way. If I have less energy, then I need to make sure I'm not wasting it doing things I don't want to do.

Yesterday morning Sam came over and we did a 500 workout. That's 50 reps of 10 different exercises. It destroyed me, but in a normal kind of way.Yes, I'm tired all the time. Yes, I'd like to spend my weekend snoozing on the couch. Yes, it took a monumental amount of willpower to get up this morning. But I know the difference between not wanting to do something and not being able to. I'm perfectly able. When I'm not, THEN I'll stay in bed.

Sam peered at me yesterday, frowned and told me that I've lost weight. Not eating will do that to you. I am trying really hard to eat more, but I just don't feel like it. I need some structure to get through this properly.

So here's the plan:

Eating:
I've started measuring out my food in cups so that I don't just pick at my meals. I have to make a real effort to finish the entire plate. It's not a huge amount of food, much less than usual, but it's enough that I wont become a stick figure. You can't possibly get better if you don't fuel your body, and you can't train if you don't have any energy. I've also started thinking about easy-eating food. Stuff you can eat with a spoon or spear with a fork rather than having to carve with a knife. Soups, roast vegetables, salads and fruit.

Exercise:
I'm not giving this up. I'll just have to be really careful.
Yesterday was far too much. I am wiped out. It's going to be a long slog of testing out what is and isn't reasonable. I don't want to slack off and use glandular as an excuse, but at the same time I want to ensure I get better. That means listening to my body when it says 'too tired'. The short 20 minute body weight workouts should be fine. I'd like to keep up with the interval training, and I am really determined to start boxing again. When I exercise it feels like I'm moving through mud. But getting healthy is pretty much my number one priority, and I know that sleep and mood and energy are all tied to how often I work out.

Prioritise:
Thesis, short course, working out, food, family, house renovations, friends, hobbies, drama-makers and work. That's normal life for me. I figure that my energy is cut in half (at best), so I can either do things at half pace or I can cull. I'm not keen on doing a crap job on things, because how can I take pride in what I do if I don't do things well?

• I've dropped out of the short course. It's a blow because I was enjoying it, but realistically, it was unnecessary. I'm going to keep pottering away at the thesis, but I'm going to do a very small word-target every night at home rather than at work.
  
• Drama-makers were the next thing to go. I put up with a lot of people who are passive aggressive and/or refuse to take responsibility for their own lives (work is full of them). I quite like some of these people but I think I need to stop caring. So I'm going to flat out ignore the dreadful ones, and simply say 'no' to the others.
  
• Friends are an easy one. They are like my thesis, non-negotiable. They crack me up and if I'm too tired to hang out I can say so. Besides, even if they tire you out, if you remove the nice things, you're left with glandular and a crap life.

Determined to be better in three months or less. Here's to December.

Kissing disease

I had a follow-up appointment with the Dr today and I got some marvellously shit news.

Along with low vitamin D* levels and seriously low iron, I have glandular fever. No wonder I've been apathetic about everything.

Yes, I realise that this is something that 17 year olds get after all playing spin the bottle. My mum even asked me who I've been kissing before telling me I didn't kiss enough boys in high school. Wow. What do you say to that? I told her that I only kissed Mr C during school and he didn't have mono. I think that was an overshare because she changed the topic.

So, I'm supposed to rest. I have taken a tiny bit of annual leave from work but I haven't told my academic supervisor yet. I don't want to rest, I want to be back to normal so I can train and study and work. But I guess I have to do as I'm told on this one because I'm fairly sure that's how I'll stop feeling like crap. Funny that I just posted about my inability to relax.

It's not a good time to be tired. Work is crazy and home is crazy. Not to mention that this doesn't make sense. I mean, I went RUNNING the other day. How can I have mono? Everyone has been saying that I'll find I'm too exhausted to even move, yet I've obviously been sick for at least a few weeks and I've been doing alright. Tired yes, but newborn-kitten-weak? No.

I think I'll tackle this as follows.

1. Rest. Serious rest. 8-9 hours sleep kind of rest with some little cat naps when needed

2. Eat better. In fact, eat perfectly.

3. Work out. Because I love it and surely that must be a good thing.**

4. When people say 'aren't you tired? I had mono and I was exhausted' say 'yes, but I'm harder than you could ever even dream of being'. Because I am, and glandular fever can kiss my ass which will remain toned even if it kills me.

*Still. Despite drinking VitD oil and rolling around on my lawn in my underwear. Drops don't help, sun doesn't help. I am fairly sure I'm one of those people that wouldn't survive without modern medicine.

**Ok, so I'm not convinced that I'm right on this one, but it's more for my mental health than anything else. Weights=Happy A.

Stress less

I went to the doctor today because I was a bit worried that my generally glossy outlook on life was becoming a bit tarnished and grey.

She ran a bunch of tests and made me do a quiz. Apparently I'm not in any way depressed, but my stress levels are extreme. As in off the chart kind of extreme. When she told me this I said 'Yes, I'm not very surprised by that' and I blinked at her like a stressed out owl. Then I pulled out some feathers.

Sigh. Apparently I'm doing the right thing with the workouts. But that's it. She is very gung-ho about making sure I relax more. The question is, when do I relax? How do I relax? I think I may have forgotten how.

I always think, have a bath, that's relaxing. But it's not. First it's too hot and then it gets too cold and I run out of hot water and then I feel sad.

Read a book, that's relaxing. NO IT'S NOT. You'd think so. But only if I like the book I'm reading.

I'm left with movies. I can do movies. Movies transport me away from myself even if they are completely rubbish.  I work near a movie theater, I could go during lunch if I really wanted.

Perhaps that can be my thing this week. I'll go to a lunch time movie to relax.

When I think about stress, I think about Sage Francis singing Worry Not and I shake my head.

Twitter

Far out. I love Twitter.

Mr P told me that I shouldn't expect to find any creative fulfillment on Twitter.

In return, I wrote him a haiku. Then I wrote him another one about how he loves pickles. Then I sent him the one I wrote about ugly mermaids.

I almost followed Sam Worthington. Almost. Then I realised that I was crossing the fine line between adoration and crazy-stalker. Yes, they tweet in order to 'keep in touch' with fans, but really famous people probably think fans are mental.  It's like patrons that have favourite librarians.

I shall tweet about pirates and fun things in rare books.

Library girls are the best girls

All it took feel better was a charming young man and a soundsuit.

A patron came up to me and told me "you're an information ninja. You have the answers."  So of course, I found what he wanted.  Then he proceeded to compliment my library and then announced "Libraries have the best girls. My friend told me he wants to meet someone nice like my girlfriend. I told him, if you want to meet a great girl, go to a library."

I almost fell over. 

Prior to that, a colleague (admittedly, she's very cool), showed me images of Soundsuits.  They are amazing. The artist is Nick Cave, but not the Australian Nick Cave (although I wouldn't have been surprised). I'm not sure how I will do it, but Soundsuits are now on the list. If I can't own one, I must wear one.

Who would have thought. I was so upset with life, and wearable sculpture made it all better.

Writing a thesis research reflection

My supervisor has told me I need to send him a two page 'thought piece'. Something reflective that explores where I'm going and what I've been doing.

It's difficult. Can't I just start writing the damn thesis already? The words 'thought piece' make me shudder a bit on the inside. But, he's guided hundreds of PhD students successfully, so I'm just going to shut-up and do what he says.

So, I'm going to ramble honestly here, then I'm going to extract the sensible parts and gloss it up a bit.

"It's been three months since I officially started and I think I've been doing reasonably well so far. I've written about 6000 words for my literature review, and I think it reads well, but I also feel like I have been mismanaging my time and my resources. I started off with excellent intentions and a good structure, but all of that seems to have fallen by the wayside. My plan was to write a few hundred words each afternoon. I was meant to cite everything properly as I go and document resources to follow up. In the past two weeks I have done none of these things. Fortunately, I know that my few hundred word system works because it was going very well until I stopped. Why did I stop? I got tired. I became fed-up with doing 10 hour days at work and I became jaded and depressed about the world in general.

Tasks for the next three weeks:

I need to decide on a good way of managing my resources so I can find them again.
I don't have a structured way of managing my resources. So far I have been placing downloaded articles in a folder on my computer, and linking them into my "Resources - fulltext" folder in Scrivener. Books and anthologies are only being listed when they become part of the literature review. I do have a folder called "bibliographies", but I haven't made good use of it yet.

There are a few unfinished literature reviews to work on, and I have yet to look at Johnson's General History. I also need to look at a four volume work called "British Piracy in the Golden Age". Incidentally, I can now do so since I have a student card. My photo is appalling. One lens in my glasses is reflecting light, and I'm worried about the time so I look like a one-eyed botoxed witch with a frozen grimace for a smile. Anyway, I also need to order a copy of some resources held at the NLA, and I expect there are quite a few newspapers I'm going to need to obtain as well.

I'd also really like to paint a giant map of the Spanish Main on the wall of my study. It is unlikely to help with my research, but it would certainly be fun. Plus, my geography knowledge is rubbish."

There. That's a decent start.
In other news, the thesis master has also given me the wonderful news that I am on track with my research! In fact, I'm not just on track, I'm ahead of where I should be. Which is marvellous, because I feel like I'm drowning. Too many readings and not enough thesis time. Actually, too many readings, too much library work and no thesis time.

We have meetings every three weeks because it keeps me working. Guilt and expectation are powerful tools. Thesis master calls it the fear of humiliation. Clever man.

You have made me feel sick

An ex has made me very upset. Which is interesting since I never really speak to him anymore.

See, I have this idea that I don't have any friends who are misogynists. I like to think that all my friends understand what feminism is and consider themselves to be feminists. I think that all my friends are thoughtful and clever people. But a little while ago I started to think I'm dead wrong about this, and he just confirmed that.

The ex said that it's "fair for female gamers to campaign for games they want to play, but it's not fair to campaign against games that boys like to play". That, in my view, is just plain wrong. His response to my re-posting of an article about Anita Sarkeesian was poorly thought out. Considering the context, it was even slightly sickening. I know he's smarter than that. We had some great and thoughtful conversations when we were together. Surely he MUST be smarter than that. Games are still heavily weighted against women - Mass Effect does not wipe out the thousands of games where women are either treated as sex objects or there to be beaten up or abused (and even Mass Effect has problems). Yes, you can come back with the fact that there are heaps of games where you can play as a woman. But how come most warrior women have a tiny metal bra and weird armoured panties? What the hell does that protect? And why are their breasts bigger than their heads or busting out of their tops?

I responded saying that I don't play games much anymore because I don't like having to be a hyper-sexualised person (I'll always love Age of Empires).

His response was that games need to evolve and diversify, which is already starting to happen. Then he ruined it with "There'll always be a place for trashy games though, live and let live I reckon"

Sure. Live and let live. I'll let my young son play games about beating up and raping women because they're just trashy games. I'll let him see my husband playing them. I'll let him grow up thinking that men are supposed to embrace violence without thinking, and that if in doubt, you should shoot everything in sight. Don't think, just react. How many female characters are there that aren't designed to either be rescued (innocent) or sexually desirable? After my kids grow out of Dora and Diego, I'm pretty sure they'll need to exit the gaming arena (unless things change fast).

Many video games do two things I hate. They depict women as sexual objects to either be conquered, rescued or leered at, and they assume that men want to do those things.

I'm confident that most men I know find so called 'trashy games' sick. They don't want to punch a prostitute, they don't want to see a half naked elf woman run around and they don't want to always be cast as a violent or emotionally restricted goof.

A gamer might find a character of a school girl with DD breasts sexy, but it's not. It's weird. If the poor girl was real she'd probably have incredible back pain. Plus, she'd have the hots for the young things on Home and Away.

That said, I need to tell you a story about my friend Obvian. He's a very talented artist (and musician). Once one of the cooler guys at highschool asked him to draw a scantily clad woman (can't remember it exactly, but the request was something similar to that). It was the first time I saw him get angry. He told the guy to shove it. Another friend IS a games developer. He routinely gets angry at the way women are depicted in video games - as he told me once "I've seen women. That's not a woman."

Just in time...

Right as I was considering running away from it all I saw this.

Thanks Miss J. It was your fb profile that I found it on.

Pictures that will restore your faith in humanity

Earthquake

Yesterday there was an earthquake that shook Melbourne.  All very exciting.

The concerning thing is that I felt my chair shake, and thought 'oh dear, I think I'm having a seizure'. Then I thought 'actually, I doubt this is what a seizure feels like. Maybe I've just finally gone mental'.

Everyone else I know thought 'oh my God the earth is swallowing us'. Brilliant. Instead of jumping to the obvious conclusion (earthquake), I assume I've got brain troubles.

The weirdest part is, after the chair stopped shaking, I thought 'oh good' and kept doing what I was doing. That's right, I assume I've had a brain-hop and once it ends I happily continue with what I'm doing.

Anyway, it was less dramatic than it sounds. A friend over the other side of Melbourne had some cookie boxes fall over in the cupboard. Another friend seemed sad that none of his stuff toppled (although I suspect he'd be like me and wouldn't be able to tell).

As Hawm said, it was just a tremor. Nothing to see or feel here.

How to tell someone not to text you again

How do you tell someone to stop texting you? Don't send them a lame error message. Do it properly. Unless you're under 15, in which case an error message is legit.

A year or two ago I met a guy at a birthday party. He was a bit odd but he was quite nice and we talked for maybe 10 minutes. Mr G left to go to the bathroom, and I got up to leave as well and the guy asked for 'our' number. I gave mine to him. I figured maybe he'd text if he was around the Brunswick area with our mutual friend or something.

Anyway, he started to text me regularly. And they weren't your average text. They always gave me detailed information about what he was doing. I gave some dull responses then just stopped responding because the texts were getting weirder and weirder. Eventually they stopped. Then yesterday I got another one. Finally I decided to harden up and just tell him to stop texting me. I considered saying 'I met you once, for a short time over a year ago. That does not make us friends. FUCK OFF, you're being weird.'

Instead I went for: Hey, sorry but I'd really prefer it if you deleted my number. Thanks.

That's where a normal person would delete the number. It's awkward sending those messages. I wasn't happy doing it, but all social conventions had been ignored and to be honest, as a librarian, I know enough socially awkward people.

Instead of just leaving me alone, he wrote back asking "So do you remember who I am? I will delete your number if you are asking the right person". He told me his name and described where we met (he threw in Mr G's name for good measure). I spent ages wondering if it was worth writing back. After deciding that I was old enough to be able to deal with this, I texted: Yes, I do have the right person.

Case closed. He hasn't texted back, and I really hope he doesn't. I also hope I never have to see him again. Why hasn't someone pulled him up on this kind of thing? A friend of mine who also attended the party says he's done this to quite a few people - so why haven't his friends explained the finer points of social interaction to him?

What else should I have done? I'm not sure if I could have gone about it a better way. I probably could have been kinder, but I'm not sure how.

Brave enough to use an oven

I've been baking! I think Hawm is psychically influencing me.

First I made a huge chicken, leek and bacon pie. It was AMAZING. It's pretty hard to mess up pie, but this really was a winner. Unfortunately I was using the Miss A cooking system, so I can't replicate the pie because I have no idea how much of what I put in.

Then I made gingerbread men. Miss M gave me some lovely cookie cutters - men with bites taken out of them. I was a tad nervous since I've only eaten gingerbread three times, but they went really well. I had a lot of problems rolling the dough out to the same thickness, and it was really sticky and kept clinging to the baking paper. I used more flour but I'm pretty sure my problems would have been solved if I'd used measuring cups. I know full well that I can't judge how much half a cup is. No clue.

I feel like after all the baking (and eating), I should write a bit about this morning. I had a lovely session with Sam. For the first half we did the usual running and body weight stuff. Then he made me do real weights for ages before the boxing in the hope that I'd tire my arms out a bit. It's actually very cute, he gets frustrated because I punch too hard. Who would have thought I'd finally find my sport and it would be something so feral. From ballet to boxing.

Anyway, despite the arm work, we did 400 quick and hard punches in a row. Jabs and uppercuts - I've never done that many in one go before. Almost killed me. Plus, he kept yelling at me, telling me to concentrate and lift my arms higher. Then we did some random combinations he thought up. That was fun until I came close to punching him (by accident - I wasn't concentrating).

Then I wrote a lit review and got caught dancing around the lounge room, brandishing a mixing bowl, to Big Audio Dynamite. All in all, it was an excellent day.

Agony Aunts

I just started watching Agony Aunts on ABC. It's so funny I started to cry.

Mirka Mora and Hannah Gadsby are ridiculous. Love them both. I wish I could have had this series to watch when I was a teen. And then again in 2004, then 2007, then 2008.  Would have been HANDY.

I took a few things from the show. One was that I shouldn't assume that a man knows he's going bald. Apparently sometimes they don't know.  Not sure how to feel about that. How do they not know? Does this happen often?

There was a cute piece on how to react when someone says 'I love you'. The most stand out 'I love you' I've ever had came from Mr N, which does sadden me. Actually, I'll save that little rant for the next post.

Back to Agony Aunts.

Best piece of advice was Hannah Gadsby saying that if you go on a date you should make sure that you both know you're on a date. I can't say I've had that problem, because I never got asked out on dates. Mr G was probably the first to properly take me on a date.  Still, excellent advice.

Also, the funniest quote was "girls, sort out your lady garden, that's gotta be minted up" - Bridget Taylor.  At least, that's what I heard. I didn't want to go back and re-listen in case I was wrong.

Great show.

Man appreciation time

Today I told Mr G that we needed to discuss my thesis. Or more accurately, that he needed to understand that it will suck the life out of the next 8 years and that he needs to support and encourage me. In response to this he shouted "WORK HARDER!", then asked if there was anything more he should do. I couldn't think of anything.

My supervisor didn't frighten or upset me during our meeting today, even though I probably deserved a talking to. I think he uses kindness as a tactic, because I'm now going to work so hard that his head will be blown apart by the sheer size of the email attachment he'll get next time.

The wonders of Mr P just don't stop. I spoke about my work at uni today and it wasn't until after that I realised that I'd completely forgotten that I hate talking in front of groups! In fact, I was even looking forward to saying what I'd been working on. At the end of the year I'm going to bribe a few friends to come around so that I can practice my 20 minute thesis speech. I'm a little bit excited by it, which is an interesting feeling. I have to give a talk for my thesis confirmation so I figure that if I practice it a few times I'll nail it.

Mr G has a friend called Mr L. Mr L is a builder and has organised for our house to be re-stumped. He's also flattening out my backyard for me. He has been so generous that sometimes I just don't know how we're going to thank him.

I have a tiny little crush on a very scary man at work. He sent me an email with a smiley face on it and now that I know he's human I'm all shy. I think Frog was a bit disgusted when I told him, because he waved his arms around and ran off. To be honest, it was a better reaction then I was expecting. The scary man is being very helpful - sometimes I think that all a man has to do to win hearts is be kind.

Hypnotherapy - it cures everything

I'm a convert.  I'll admit it, I was still a bit skeptical about how I'd go today, but thanks to all the work with Mr P, the presentation was fine.  In fact, it was better than fine.  It's amazing to go from terrified and ready to throw up (and a big frown to the colleague who kept giving me gorgeous sympathetic smiles at my last fear-filled speech) to something close to relaxed.

Ok, so I wasn't relaxed. But on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being ready to throw up, I think I was a 3.  Which was exactly what Mr P promised me.

So, next is dealing with my motivation to exercise and eat better. I want more energy. I'm sick of feeling tired all the time.  I've got a full-time job, part-time uni and a house that I'm busy 'fixing' (because everyone needs a book covered library with a massive Chesterfield for snoozing in).  Life is busy, and my eating and exercise are always the first things to go.

I've got a bit of extra cash from all my public holiday work, so perhaps I'll book a few more sessions with Mr P.

Not fair and very painful

WHAT THE FUCK.

I just got spammed by Mr N.

Some stupid link called snowplowingtoronto. I doubt it's actually him - it's just spam. I feel sick. Is it worth emailing him to ask him to take me off his address book? I can't email him. I just can't. Ohhhhhhh I feel SICK.

This is not a normal reaction. I miss him. I miss him horribly. The worst part is that I actually got excited about getting the email. I clicked on it without thinking.

This is actually a little bit cruel.

Monash and hypnosis

I had my first seminar this week. It was exciting, but a bit upsetting because I had to go up to the 6th floor of the Menzies building. Everything has changed. I was a little bit shocked because the area where I used to sit and eat my lunch is now a little classroom with glass doors. You can see in, but without a pass you sure as hell can't get in. The seminar was in this same glass box, and as I walked in I couldn't help but feel a little bit sad. I have a very strong memory of Mr N talking to me there. I remember being worried that I was falling in love with him. Ha ha ha. So funny I could cry.

It's interesting how a building makeover can completely rob an area of the memories associated with it. In a way it's fantastic for me. I can have a completely new experience without expecting him to walk around the corner.



Anyway, aside from my Monash adventure, I had a very exciting week because I went to see a hypnotist in a last ditch effort to get over my social anxiety and fear of public speaking. Yes, I realise it sounds a bit mad. The guy I saw was absolutely lovely. Naturally I was scared and anxious, but he completely charmed me (which is good since it's his job).

Apparently I'm highly susceptible to suggestion. I found that interesting. It was very easy for me to go along with the visualisation because I day-dream ALL the time. My eyelids were fluttering which is meant to be a good sign. I didn't notice that. All I noticed was that my arms and fingers were a bit twitchy. Perhaps they're always twitchy but I'm never still enough to focus on them.

The big question is, did it work? I certainly felt less anxious afterwards, to the point where I walked home in the dark without the usual 'oh my god I'm going to be mugged' feeling. Tonight I'm going to a party where I barely know anyone - but I'm not upset or worried about it (bored yes, distressed no). The real test will be speaking up at work. I'm great if it's 1-on-1 but if it's more than 5 or 6 people I get uncomfortable.

A disco ate my uni

Last week I went into Monash to hand in some forms. On my way back to the bus loop, I went through the Menzies building - this ugly old beast of a thing that has windowless rooms and escalators that never work.

It's turned into a freaking nightclub. It looks so slick inside, I actually stopped to gape for a while. Then I felt terrible and left as soon as I could.

Mr Museum is lucky enough to teach at Caulfield. He agreed that it's a disaster for anyone who took classes in ye olde Menzies. It was a right of passage to clamber up those stairs, and collapse on the broken furniture. I have some lovely memories of that building, including the first class I took with Mr N. He accused me of not doing a good job of turning the pages of the Bible we were sharing. I was doing an excellent job - he was just upset because I was in charge.

Sigh. I suppose it's a new degree and a new building. I don't handle change well. I'll take some pictures the next time I go there. I don't think that any of you were Monash people, but at least you can see the neon glow and understand my old person confusion.

It's been a busy few weeks.

Last weekend some friends and I went to the Hanging Rock Harvest Picnic. It was such a lovely day. I had the most amazing salted caramel ice-cream. Today I was talking to an ice-cream maker (don't worry, it was a human one), and he said that salted caramel ice-cream is VERY hard to find because it's difficult to make and store. I can't help but be quite sad about that. I think it's now my favourite food.


Anyway, at Hanging Rock, I ticked something off on my list that I didn't even know was on there. I got my face painted. Every time I go to a street festival or some kind of community event, I always see face painters and I always stare wistfully at them before deciding I'm too old. WELL. Not this time. With a little bit of encouragement (and two friends who agreed to get their faces done as well) I spent a day skipping about with a purple butterfly on my face. I was so delighted.

Ridiculous huh.

Today started off in a horrible way but got much better. I got dumped by Mr D (my trainer), although in his defence he was lovely about it and explained that he needed to focus on uni - something I completely understand. But I'm still annoyed. Mr G was really kind about it and fixed the day by escorting me to a beer, cider and wine tasting in the city. We stopped off at this crazy little store where we bought his sister her birthday present. I insisted that the only good present would be a coprolite. Love it. Better than a JB voucher anyday. I also saw a life-size paper skeleton. I'm going back for that. It'll be a feel better present to myself.

WINNER! And now seriously frightened!

I'm almost too scared to put this post up, but what's the point in documenting my life if I don't do it properly?

I've been accepted into the uni of my choice and in a million years I'll hold a PhD in History.

Unreal. Now all I have to do is figure out exactly what the hell I'm going to do.

Why are you mad at me?

Dear person,

Today I walked past you and said hello, much like I always do. You gave me a little grimace. It wasn't even a half smile. I'll admit, you did say hello, but you didn't seem at all happy about it.

The thing is, it's really upset me. I mean, we haven't chatted in a few days now - have you been avoiding me? I was so pleased to see you, and had planned to ask you about something you said to me the last time we talked. I even had a new lame joke, since you liked the last one so much.

Is it because I didn't really say hello the last time I saw you? If so, I'm sorry. I was very flustered. I thought someone else was going to be in the room - someone who isn't very nice to me - and while it was a lovely surprise to see you instead, it was still a surprise. I don't do very well in situations where I'm not prepared.

Or have I been paying you too much attention? I hope I haven't alarmed you. My curiosity is simply due to the fact that I find you very interesting. Once you told me that you find me interesting, so I hope that you understand my reasons for seeking you out.

I know it's probably nothing, but it has caused me distress, so I'd really appreciate it if you would talk to me tomorrow and smile nicely as you usually do. It's really one of my favourite parts of my day.

Kind regards,

Miss A
Senior muppet,
Local department of letter writers
Vic 3000

Rules for writing a thesis

350 words in, and I'm back here.

Worse, I just had a major panic that I'd mixed up monotheistic and polytheistic in my proposal. Getting those wrong kind of messes up the entire thing. Turns out I did get it right. I jammed the word mono-cultural in as well and that just blew my head apart when I was doing a re-read. Which, you should never do, unless you want to be brought to tears in the local public library.

I feel like I'm a bit adrift.* Last time I had another Miss A and Mr N holding my hand all the way through. Now it's just me. I mean, I have people who will help, but nobody to provide intensive emotional support. Who will nudge me away from the cliffs of insanity** and explain that I've mixed up my paragraphs? Who will bring me cookies? Who will fix my punctuation???

I'M GOING TO EITHER DIE OR FAIL. I might do both.

Still, I've set myself some rules in the hope that I can beat procrastination.

- 400 words per writing session.
- 2 writing sessions a week.
- 1 session straight after breakfast on Saturday. Nothing like a training session to get you thinking!
- if I get to 1000words in a session, I'll let myself spend $100 in a frivolous manner.
- if I don't manage to do my 2 session, or my 400 words per session, I'll pop $20 into my money tin. I'm now saving to go hiking in South America.

Freaking excellent. No matter which way this goes, I can't lose. Although, considering I have no money right now, I'd better crank out another 50 words.

*HA HA HA HA. Adrift. Pirates. HA HA HA
**Great movie. Just saw it at the Astor

Birthday panic!

My birthday is coming up very quickly.

I haven't decided what to buy myself yet, but I thought of a few options. Considering I have no time to figure out any major trips, these might have to do.

1. Spanish lessons. The second I wrote that down, I remembered that I am meant to be writing a paper, starting a thesis and fixing a house. Can I also manage Spanish lessons?

2. Dance classes. Salsa? I do get freaked out by weird men, so unless I can find a partner to come, I'm not sure if this will work. Actually, this pisses me of, because if Mr N were here, I'd ask him, because at least I'd feel comfortable dancing with him. I may just have to accept that private classes might be the way to go. It'll cost a fortune.

3. Proper woodworking equipment. That could be cool. I could take one of those day courses at our local TAFE to get back up to speed. After all, I have an epic structure to build.

Mariachi El Bronx

Last night I saw Mariachi El Bronx play at Billboard. They were brilliant, and I loved every second of their set.

Vasco Era were supporting, and to be honest, I thought they were rubbish. They sounded like a cross between Silverchair (around the time of Frogstomp) and Ween, only worse. But that's my opinion. I have been known not to understand some types of music. A friend of mine has a band that I just don't get. I really tried, because he's a lovely fellow, but in the end I had to just shrug in confusion.

Anyway, forget the terrible Vasco Era ordeal. They were only on for half an hour (the end of their set was met with a bit of delight from other people too).

So, the set was introduced against a sexual time-line. Matt Caughthran said that Mariachi El Bronx was going to make love to us all. It was VERY funny. As he started talking about unbuttoning our blouse, he suddenly stopped and shouted 'I'm trying to be sexy here!' I think he was being heckled from the front :-D

It was a great night. I'm not surprised it was sold out. I'm going to be all over tickets if they come back. I can't wait for the next time.

A pretty great date

I went on a date this weekend at Mi Corazon, a tequila bar in Brunswick. It was awesome.

I had this crazy cinnamon cocktail, then the pork tacos. Company was great, food was great, venue was great. I am one of those dreadful women that expects to have the night paid for. Unless I suggest the date in the first place, then it's on me. I think that's fair, but each to their own.

Two things that stopped it all being perfect (although it was damn close and I'm being very picky!)

1. He should be there before I am. I hate walking into a place and not seeing the person that I'm supposed to dine with. Yes, this is seriously retentive, but I'm fussy. Too fussy to exist really.

2. He should never finish his meal well before mine. It's a bit sigh-worthy (not in the nice way) when you're still eating and he's sitting there patiently. I hate it when people watch me eat.

And now that I've read that, I feel like a lunatic. Still, it's good advice.

Leaving children in libraries

There's a debate raging on the mamamia website about leaving children unattended in libraries. I very stupidly got involved. First I read, then I wrote. Imagine my surprise when I realised that the people on there are continually ignoring what the actual librarians are saying - don't leave your kids in libraries alone.

But what did I expect? We deal with parents on a daily basis. Some are awesome, some are completely unhinged. We know it's no different online. Everyone thinks their kid is fine. Most middle to upper class parents (and lets face it, I think I know who the target demo is) think their child is a perfect angel. Bookish, smart, well-behaved.

BULLSHIT.

I was a very bookish, smart and well-behaved pre-teen. It didn't stop me cutting up a book that had nice pictures in it when I was 5. It also didn't stop me eating paper. It certainly didn't stop me reading some rather inappropriate things (Gore Vidal's Caligula for one). And I was supervised (clearly not well enough).

'My darling child would NEVER do anything like that. They know the boundaries'.

Well. I've read the debate, and both the author and publisher seem to be ignoring the fact that their kids might not be as perfectly behaved for us as they are for them.

Anyway. Mia is no Cherry. And that's my mean comment for the day.

Nothing to do, nobody to do it with

Mr G's been away for 4 nights now.
I've gone feral. He rang me yesterday and couldn't stop laughing at how happy I was to hear from him. He was less pleased when I told him that I make quite a good single person. I think his words were 'don't go getting any ideas'. Funny how I see single life as writing and going out with friends, while he worries about other men!
Poor thing. He should worry less about the local talent and more about my laptop. We're an item, attached at the fingertips. Actually, I once dated someone online, but that was my old computer. This one is too grown-up for such behaviour. Anyway, this is clearly a nonsense post. Written because I'm somewhat lonely. It'll pass.

2011 - I think I finally did it

It only just occurred to me that not only have I neglected to do my yearly report, but I may have finally had the year of Miss A.

Every year I try so hard to make sure the 12 month stretch is magnificent, but it never seems to work out. Even when I was hopping about the globe things weren't quite there. But now, for the rest of my life I can sit in my Chesterfield, smoke my hand-carved pipe and ponder the most excellent year that was 2011.

Triumphs:

1. Finished a great job. Moved straight to another great job as a real life librarian.
2. Bought a house.
3. Got engaged.
4. Landed a permanent job in my dream area.
5. Kept my uni friends
6. Made some fancy work friends. If I combine my uni crew and my work buddies I have a social life! More importantly, one that I like!
   
7. Grew snowpeas. And strawberries.
   
8. Started to bake. Muffins, cookies and cupcakes. There was even a burnt and collapsed cake in there. Well done me.
   
9. Got fitter and stronger. The best part about this is that my life is so much easier now. I've decided to keep my trainer for good. Or at least until he finishes uni.
   

Lousy stuff:

1. Mr N isn't talking to me. Of course, this is sort of a good thing because we can both live our lives without the other person taking up space and thought time. But really, it makes me sad so it's in the lousy stuff pile. Really, this has been the only proper crap thing about 2011.
   
2. I'm living far away from Brunswick. I love Brunswick. I love the breakfast. I love the weird guys in skinny jeans. I love the ladies in their 1950s dresses. Still, I wanted a garden and I have a car.
3. Baking is expensive and it makes me fat. However, the finished products are also delicious and make me feel very capable.
   

All in all, an excellent year. The rotten things all have good sides.

Things for the new year:

1. Buy better librarian glasses. Mine are crap because my dad chose them. That's what happens when your father pays for everything (this was 4 years ago mind you).
2. Learn to do my hair properly. A few weeks ago Mr G's sister transformed my hair from a feral scribble into a sleek and sexy up-do. I think it's about time I learned to do it myself. I'm also going to throw away my gross-person clothes. I may need some help.
   
3. Transform my yard from a swampy, neglected, cat-riddled monstrosity into a productive play garden, fit for a wedding. It comes with a little puppy who shall be called Argo.

I'll be 28 this year. I have 3 years left until the major event year.