Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
not me, my blog. this is not what i had in mind when i conducted this ramble. but last night i found myself so bored. boy was watching mission impossible 2 and i just cannot do tom cruise. so i logged onto camelshoes and kind of sighed a little bit. i really was done with the layout.
but i'll remember you fondly retro typin' gal
knowing that the layout i had in mind was, to return to tom, mission impossible (see what i did there?) i thought i'd just stick with something simple as a temporary measure.
and now i love it. perfectly simple. it might be here to stay.
oh, and if you've followed my link here hootie, scroll down. it's the next post.
Friday, November 27, 2009
anyway, i have emailed the entry to myself and will post it from boy's computer tomorrow. actually, no. i think i'll wait until tuesday. i have my reasons. but how, how can you possibly wait that long? i recommend watching this. you'll need 10 minutes but it's worth it.
alternatively, here's a story. my mate won a walkley last night. freakin' ay!! this, for those who don't know, is totes awesome. it is the best, most prestigious journalism award in australia aaaaand he won 'scoop of the year'. scooping is what the biz is all about. i am so stoked for him.
not my friend. not a walkley.
congrats hootie!! who would have thought we'd actually grow up and achieve stuff?
Monday, November 23, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
i am all about media and pr at undisclosed location. and i can't quite believe my luck. not only is the gig just about perfecto for me, it also waited around for me. serendipitous.
it started a few months back. the last three weeks of august marked my last three weeks of work in london. the grand plan was to apply for jobs en masse so i'd have a few balls rolling once i got back to oz.
i did not do this. i was too busy saying goodbye to the city and the people i had loved for the previous 15 months. there was no room for seek.com.au in my life. i forgave myself the indiscretion and enjoyed my last weeks in the old dart.
thanks largely to a oz-based friend in my field of work, i did apply for just one job. said friend had seen it advertised and passed it on, presuming i would be interested. i was. i applied. i waited.
i checked my emails every day or so for the next three weeks but heard nothing. that's not an issue, just the truth. come september, i packed up my bags and embarked on travel, travel, travel. new york, krakow, san sebastian, hong kong and some seriously special, sad, fun goodbyes during the fleeting london-based moments in between.
i honestly cannot not tell you whether i was simply too caught up to keep checking my emails or had figured i had been unsuccessful. i think it was probably a combo of both. but, bottom line, the travelling lifestyle is not conducive to following the job trail.
on october 8, sitting on the balcony at mum's house in the aussie sunshine, i checked my emails. i had one from undisclosed location. a rejection email i assumed. and, of course, i assumed wrong. of course, not because i am so damn good i obviously would never be rejected (boast rejected letters to prove it) but because this story would be damn pointless other wise. the email was in face a request for an interview. a phone interview since i lived in london. 'what time would be best?' it asked. in a fluster, i scrolled up. when, when, when was this sent?
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FRICK.
what a waste. what a fuck up. i felt stupid but, even worse, i felt utterly unprofessional. i mentioned my stupidity briefly here.
i quickly replied without hope, only courtesy.
so sorry...blahblah...was globetrotting...blahblahblah...assume you've found a suitable cadidate...blahblah...if not, would love to meet you...blahblahblahblah...best wishes...blah...sincerely...blah.
my phone rang. it was undisclosed location. they had completed the interview process but not yet made a decision. they invited my for an 11th hour interview.
that was a thursday. my interview was that tuesday. i was offered the job thursday. i started the next monday.
in a nutshell, the job search could not have gone better. add to that the fact i landed in australia during the three hour window sydney airport was accepting planes on 'the day of the dust' and the fact i found the perfect car for me the second i started looking aaaaand the fact my amazing boy is cooking us dinner as i type - life.is.good.
no dole queue for me. shame. looks like i missed out on a mean cuppa.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
problem one. i vividly recall the trauma of trying to get this layout right in the first place. when i finally did make it work, i didn't even know how i managed. it was highly stressful and i don't want to go back there.
problem two. well, it's kind of the same as problem one. in the past month, i have twice tried to refurbish camelshoes and twice failed. a completely indecipherable error message is all i have managed to create.
does anyone know how to crack these codes? and can you come to my house please? i'll buy you an ice cream.
to appease my need for change, albiet temporarily, i have dropped the 'i think, therefore i blog' title. i think it was, again, a case of growing out of it. so i am glad it wasn't available as a URL. camelshoes is something i don't imagine growing out of because it means nothing while, at the very same time, meaning quite a lot. plus, to the naked eye it's non-descript. i like that. i like you.
Monday, November 16, 2009
her style, which i love is one thing. her words, which i love more, another. but this girl is 13. THIRTEEN!! is it patronising to be so impressed by the combo of her talent and age?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
in the same vein, the recent tragedy in randwick has instilled great fear in me. i don't fear being stabbed to death. i mean, i'd rather not be stabbed to death but it's not something i commonly think about or have even pondered in the aftermath of this sad story. but i do, very much, fear one day having a child who suffers from a condition as significant, as debilitating as schizophrenia.
someone commented about the story of the double murder on one of australia's news websites today: "so sad. such evil".
i clearly see where the reader is coming from. it's not difficult and i am sure a lot of people share the same point of view. but i can't help but think evil is not the right word. i wish it was. it would be easier for me to comprehend if the son slash brother - the suspect - was just an evil man who, i don't know, wanted his dad's money a la the menendez brothers.
but the truth is, assuming the newspapers i read are to be believed (and they never lie), the suspect is schizophrenic. a paranoid schizophrenic. as far as i am concerned, that turns the tale into tragedy for everyone involved, not just the murder victims.
i don't pretend to know more about schizophrenia than the next person but i do know it sounds frightening. it also sounds like it's almost entirely out of the sufferer's control. i am sure we'll all learn more as time progresses.
but i believe that, in the light of day, with a balanced state of mind, the 'real' anthony waterlow will be just as shocked and disgusted as 'KLM'. but he will feel indescribably worse because the blood will be on his hands.
Schizophrenic or otherwise, if you need help call 1800 18 SANE or click here.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I did the same thing yesterday. And the day before. Two coffees (no fat milk of course) before a light, 1:30ish lunch.
I also haven’t eaten dinner yet this week. Oh, and no snacks. Except for yesterday when I crunched through a Batlow Apple at about 3.30.
It’s just that I am so super busy with my new job (new job related post to come) that I haven’t had time to think about food.
Hmm, what an ever-so-noble excuse that would be.
The truth though, is that I am completely incapable of finding a balance between fat-sticks and extreme diet and exercise.
And, you know what? It really gives me the shits.
Between mid-February and mid-June this year I lost about 5kg. More than that, I lost a hugely impressive amount of body fat and equally remarkable number of cms off all the relevant ‘problem’ areas. These claims are by my standards and you don’t know how high or low those standards are so don’t judge.
So, anyway, that was really awesome. Except for the process. That wasn’t awesome. That was shit. I was at the gym two hours a day, six days a week. I drank awful ‘meal replacement’ milkshakes which wouldn’t satisfy a Kate Moss-sized hunger for lunch most days, snacked on fruit when I couldn’t bare the tummy grumble and slurped soup for dinner, if I allowed myself the luxury.
I think that’s basically anorexia…without the results.
The three to four months which followed included summer holidays (no gym, new flavours - yum, yum, yum), a bunch of farewell drinks/dinners in pub-friendly London, a whole lot of on-the-way-home travel and a heap of homecoming celebrations comprising more drinks, more dinners and still no gym.
I haven’t dared weigh myself but my clothes tell the story.
FUCK MAN. I have to start all over again.
But the real problem lies right here…
I am fit.
I am healthy.
I am not fat.
If someone my size whinged to me about being a fatty boom ba, I would kick them in the face. Untrue, I grant you. But gee, I would tell them they needed a good kick in the face with gusto.
But while I can tell myself, and my blog, that I am not fat, I still feel fat and I can’t shake it.
So, I’m perennially hungry all over again. I am back at the gym which will rule my life soon enough. And I have already put huge restrictions on my alcohol intake which means the anti-social (or at least significantly less social) version of me is on her way back.
Yep, I hear you. Everything in moderation. I totally support this mantra but it honestly doesn’t shift a gram for me. I also know skipping breakfast is a huge no-no but starting my metabolism at 7am lures me towards snacking right through until lunch. Appetite-suppressing coffee is my new snack. The jitters, my new state.
And the best part? I'll lose 5kgs and swiftly find something else I hate and need to fix. FRICK.
Is this my life? Will the gym always be my second home? Will I forever be hating something that’s too big, too soft, too cellulitey (it’s my blog and I will make up words)?
Or is there a magic age where I will stop placing so much importance on my size or, probably more significantly, shape?
I hope so. And if there is, I really hope it’s 29.
PS: I wrote this last Wednesday. I guess I was too weak to post it. Breakfast is now back on my agenda. I feel better. Still fat :)