Touch My Yogi Fear

Yoga changes your life; I became stronger and more aware.  Breathing became a conscious thing and how far apart my toes could be spread was more important than the old t-shirt I adorned.  Yoga is not just about health, or being lean or flexible.  There are no guidelines of who can take part or who should stay away.  In yoga studios there are no mirrors or pumping beats, you are in a room full of people but alone on your mat.  It is hard to explain the feeling of calm that comes over you before you start your practice.  The breath slows but awareness heightens, and prepares you for a battle. A battle with your own mind that is about to commence. 

The battle is not to bend yourself in-half, that will come.  The battle is staying aware for the whole practice.  The trick is to not let your eye wander to your chipped toenail polish or the yogi with the perfect headstand in front of you.  It’s to not think about the day you just had or what groceries to buy later, training the mind is harder than training the body.  When your mind is focused your body can achieve great things, anything…almost.

Stretch, hold, release *crack*!  It was like the most exquisite yoga class combined with the most intense deep tissue massage.  I was on a table, the body that I tried to worship and treat like a temple had broken.  The body I indulged with yoga, walks, plenty of sleep, a vegetarian diet and sex had in an instant turned against me.  The nervous system was my downfall, a pinched nerve in the hip will bring down the most toned healthy body and it was horrendous.  The pain is outrageous and the posture destroying painless position I worked myself into was mortifying.  Drugs were not my answer; either was resting awkwardly in a bed for days.  I had to get proactive and find a natural health solution, one which would be effective but kind to my body.  I did not want to numb my pain I wanted to understand it; my answer was going to the Chiropractor.

On a warm table I was pushed, prodded rolled and cracked.  My limbs were realigned and massaged.  My sockets had the bones pulled out and pushed back in, I was just letting myself be arranged but it was a work out.  It didn't always feel great but I could feel my body easing into it.  It wanted to be straightened and put into place.  It was evident that the yoga I did in the evening wasn't undoing the damage I was doing in the day; my fabulous work heels, love of literally curling up with a book and outrageous/ jarring dance moves on were playing havoc with my joints.  My temple was not happy, and this made me unhappy.

I have a love for my body I accept and treasure it, but even the most aspiring yogi has a downfall.  My chiropractor told me that a pinched nerve especially in the hip area was likely to keep happening, all the strength work in the world wouldn’t combat a sudden slip or knock.  But he also had a beautiful way of viewing health.  He said to be healthy is to be normal.  Our body wants to be healthy and fit and happy, it shouldn’t be a distant goal but a constant sense of being.  Even if I feel sick, sneeze or vomit it’s a sign of my body readjusting itself.  It is working.  My chiropractor really understood to the roots of his practice.  He was inspired by Daniel David Palmer who created chiropractic care.  

“I desired to know why one person was ailing and his associate eating at the same table, working in the same shop was not. Why? What difference was there in the two persons that caused one to have pneumonia, catarrh, typhoid or rheumatism, while his partner, similarly situated, escaped? Why?”

This was a revelation, it’s better to focus on the person with the disease then focus on the disease that the person has. 

No pill would fix my hip, I needed a personal touch, someone to physically touch me, feel my body and tell me what was awry.  I only went to the chiropractor twice, after that my nerve problem felt eased and I was free to get back to yoga, love, walking my pup and everything else I value.  My body felt aligned and fresh, so did my soul, but I had a new awareness of how tough and fragile I was, that what gave me so much pleasure would also harbor pain.

I was back on my mat the next week but it was hard to still my mind, I felt a subtle ghost pain in my hip and I could feel myself holding back from some poses which usually I would dive into, fearless.   Yoga will help get my confidence back, as soon as a can quieten the battle in my mind and be free to stretch into myself.

Me in Thailand-Taken by the beautiful Polly

Wine and Walls

I’m definitely a part of this foodie wave and I love it.  I have always eaten food for pleasure not fuel and my move to Melbourne last year cemented this passion.  I love dining at all the newest and hottest restaurants, but also take solace in finding grungy bars and hidden cafes.  In my apartment I have more cookbooks then novels and my salt is the prettiest colour pink you ever did see.  My obsession with all things delicious has developed and blossomed and now instead of just focusing on the aroma of the dish laid in front of me or the ‘legs’ of the wine poured into my glass I also take note of the stool I’m perfectly perched upon or the couch I’m sleepily laying on.

It’s not a new idea that your surroundings affect your perception of a new experience and place.  The room you are in can make you feel elated, bored, happy or depressed, just like music can.  So it makes sense that it would also affect your dining experience.  Earlier this year I went to San Telmo in the CBD with a friend and we sat at the bar, I was enjoying everything immensely until one detrimental swizzle of my bar stool.  This natural movement left with me with splinters in my knee; I was jaded by the blood dribbling down my calf.  Instead of leaving the restaurant musing about the food I went home and searched the bathroom cabinet for some tweezers needless to say I won’t be returning.  On the same note I have fallen in love with Commercial Roads latest gem; Tall Timber (not a splinter yet).  The white wooden interior reminds me of a beach house and the minimalist theme keeps you focused on the fresh treats on the counter as opposed to the busy street outside.  The whole place makes you feel warm and happy and ensures my return as well as spreading the love about this new hotspot.

Business owners need to take into account what their decor reflects and whether the vibe they are trying to portray is being received.  It’s not just the more obvious decisions either, i.e. a lounge in Coda would be a debacle, but the little things that make a difference as well.  I love that Cumulus Inc., CBD, has bag hooks at the bar and Casa Cuiccio, Fitzroy, has coat racks by the door.  These little touches make the whole dining experience more pleasant.  As far as the sourcing of the products goes I’m no snob to the hipster, recycling approach either, I am a greeny after all.  I love the used sofa and grandma’s crocheted cushion (given that it’s clean) as much as a sexy, sleek new stool, as long as it sends the right message and reflects the soul of the establishment.

As a future bar owner (one can dream) I’m starting to fantasise about stools and bulbs as much as I am the tapas menu and cocktail list.  I take real note of what does and doesn’t work in the places I dine.  As a result of this new interest my online shopping has turned from blazers to furniture.  My eye is drawn to bright and unique products to feature on a simple backdrop.  The feeling of the place would be fresh and colourful without being clinical. There would be flowers and champagne alongside new stools with vintage cushions.  One thing is for sure and that's where I will be shopping, Relax House.

Sunsets over share houses

Nothing reinforces the pleasant realisation that you have left those crowded, messy share house days behind and moved into a grownup home like having a gorgeous garden.  A space that is not full of beer bottles and someone’s old bicycle but with flowers, light, birds, an outdoor setting and if you’re really lucky a water feature.  I’m not quite there yet, about half way I hope.  I’ve left the smelly share house of 4(!) boys behind and moved into a slick apartment with one boy (two if you include the dog). In the share house our yard was damp, full of cigarettes (I don’t smoke) and broken glass (also not me), generally just really an unpleasant area to be in.  But now with one small step of the ladder rung I have climbed to a clean balcony.  The garden of my dreams is a still a little way off but I do have a space to call my own and it does delight me with the most beautiful sunsets. 

Sunset from my apartment.

In this tiny, yet glorious, excuse of a balcony I have managed to squeeze one table and two delightfully vintage (street) chairs, a chilli plant (with no chillies) and some bamboo, because, well who doesn’t love some bamboo?   But this doesn’t exactly leave much room for outdoor dinner parties especially once the dog and his bowl are out there, thankfully there is a doggy door.  There is only just enough space for two people to share some bubbles, cheese and soak up some rays which is all very lovely, but not exactly practical. 

This in-between apartment is defiantly a step up from the environment of a house where everyone fights over the last clean fork.  But I would like enough room to grow some plants, a lemon tree and maybe lay out my yoga mat, so I will need some dirt too.  My lease runs out soon and I would like to continue to rise to a level where I have the space to turn my white thumbs green, and stretch out, physically and mentally.  This leads me to yearning for a house again.  But not a share house…

I like my little wolf pack so will hunt for a small house with a nice yard.  It needs space, light and a place for everyone and everything.  I don’t want messy street parties but nice dinner parties, apparently with the evolution of my living situation I have also matured.  I think the yard reflects what is in the home, the energy of the people living there and whether they care about their environment, immediate and global.  There is also the issue of how much love and energy to put into a space that is not yours.  I’m not going to be buying soon so I need a rented yard that is already nice so I can just add some small, cheap, touches to keep me happy in the meantime.

Until I continue to go up the ladder of mediocre to fantastic houses I will simply have to fantasise about what can be.   One thing I’m already certain about, besides the lemon tree, is the outside, newly purchased seating I will have from Cosh Living, and yes I will show you the picture.  Until then my unfruitful chilli bush and street chairs will keep me happy.

The pup hates technology.

Now this may seem odd, but it is most certainly true.  My ridiculously charming schnauzer hates technology.  The TV doesn't bother him too much, there is not enough interaction required which could get in between him and I.  The computer he is not crash hot about, if we are the only ones home, and I sit at my desk to write then I here a ridiculous sigh and he usually goes to the other room to sleep.  I kid you not, but this is still nothing, his true hate lies in the kindle and the iPhone.  He truly hates them, or more to the truth, hates what they do to me.  Whenever I sit/lie down with my kindle he knows I'm out for at least an hour.  Which he has figured out means no walk, food, pat or play.  Needy much?  I can not tell you the amount of times I have put it on my bed, gone to make some tea and come back to find it on the floor and him curled up looking sly where it was, if its not on the floor, he is sitting on it.  Now of course he doesn't know what it is or does, but he has most certainly made the connection that when I have it, he gets less attention.  What a brat.  This act is still nothing compared to his reaction and action to my iPhone.  This ALWAYS ends up on the floor, under the couch/bed or under his butt.  I actively have to keep it away from him so he doesn't destroy it.  I try play words with friends, tweet, read, text, whatever and he carries on like a pork chop.  I get the sigh, leaving of the room, if he can he will cover it with his face or just straight up sit on it if its on my lap and if he is really feeling neglected he tries to attack it.  Ok by attack I more mean just paw at it until it is out of my hand.  If this all does not work he usually just sits on me starring very intensely or goes to his toy basket proceeding to take everything out, bringing it to me one by one to see if I will play.  As I type this he is leaning so hard on my hand to make me pat him every sentence is a struggle, lucky I didn't get a bigger dog.  For now I find it humorous and quite funny that he is opposed to technology, bright hey?  But it also makes me more aware if I have not walked him yet or am not giving him enough attention, he is a boy after all.  My retaliation is simply trying not to leave anything where he can sit on it or fling it, and not get too involved in mind dulling activities, not including the kindle of course.  In a way his hate is a good thing, stops me from being too...boring?

Marvin the schnauzer

What happened to the friendly neighbour

Ever since I have moved to Melbourne I have wondered why all our neighbours are such A**holes, honestly, Melbourne I love you but somehow everyone missed out on the good neighbour memo.  Now I realise that long gone are the days where you could borrow sugar or just pop over to say hello, but this  angry neighbour act is getting to me. 

Last night my lover and I arrived home just after 11. We had been out for dinner and drinks with a friend and were in quiet a joyous state.  The lady in the apartment next to us apparently didn't appreciate our happy giggles.  She stormed out of her apartment and started banging on our door screeching that she had to get up and 5am and us and the dog were always keeping her up.  Now I understand being constantly woken up can be frustrating but why did she think that coming over to abuse us would cause any sort of resolution, it just made us angry, screaming back which in turn brought other tenants out of there apartments telling everyone to shut up.  Real pleasant end to the evening, what bugged me the most is we have lived here over 6 months and this women has never once said hello, introduced herself, been nice to us.  So why where we suddenly expected to shut up because she had to get up early?  In Canberra I had fantastic neighbours, both had been their my whole life.  There was love and respect, and no screaming, which is how it should be.  But this women gets my blood boiling.  After realising she wasn't going to win the fight she started to swear at us in French before storming back to her room.  Now my well travelled lover also knows French and returned her insults whilst adding more.  This sent her crazy and she called to cops, that's right the lady who came to our door and scream at us then called the cops on us, what the hell is the world coming to.  To make matters worse they came about an hour later, woke EVERYBODY up and told us she claimed "the male" had kicked her door.  Ahhhh utter nonsense, no one was impressed and the policeman just said "look, love your neighbours." 

I agree with this but am still fuming today over the incident.  What happened to common decency and kindness, I'm a super happy soul and hate any sort of negativity.  Why cant people just say hello and show common courtesy?  And what is going to happen now, the next time we see her?  I hate it, why are people so horrible when there is already enough evil in this world, just be a friendly neighbour or just a kinder person, and maybe you will get some respect from those around you, but for now I do want to kick her door!

This is not even the first incident in the building, there is a letter writer, oh yes, these are the worst.  Somebody who anonymously writes letters about an issue they have with a tenant and feels the need to share it with everyone else.  In this instance it wasn't about us but it was the same "you are too noisy" speech, but this person was trying to lobby the building to have people kicked out...bullying much? I didn't want to take part of that or any other kind of negative vibes in the building.  We are not living in the country or even houses, we are living on top of each other in a Melbourne apartment, its not going to be silent or serene but it could be pleasant and friendly, if everyone just stopped screaming.

The art of writing a novel.

Call me silly but I always thought writing a novel would be, well, easy.  I just needed a great idea.  I have the natural urge to write, and write a lot.  My greeting cards are like War and Peace, I keep a day planner which is filled with scribbles and I never had any trouble writing stories for assessment for uni.  Writing a novel was always something I had in my mind that I would do later in life, for fun, maybe in my 30s. 

As of late I have been having a lot of very extravagant, bizarre and wonderful dreams and thus started to write them down.  With this creative spurt, and this here blog, I thought hey why not start a novel now?  This is where my would be novel smacked me in the face.  I would write down my dream all in one go as fast as I could, and end up with a paragraph.... I then would rewrite it and it would still be a paragraph.  Then what every lustre I had would die and id be left with just that paragraph.  Ok so the dream thing isn't working.  Another time I tried again, feeling positive and sure, I sat down at my outrageously green laptop and started to tap away again, same thing, one paragraph in then...... What was going on?  I was so sure I could write a novel when the mood struck me, especially when there are so many bad novels that are published and being sold.

Then I read an article which suddenly changed my way of viewing my own work.  As writers or any sort of artist we are very self critical, this being so, its often hard to find our own work good and worthy.  Especially in our first few years of the art.  This writer explained that most people who have a creative passion give up on their art within the first few years because they aren't producing work to a standard that they are happy with.  The writer also said its very rare that someone, especially a teacher, will make you aware of this.  The key is to keep your creative juices flowing, write a short story every week, it sort of gets the bad stories out so the great ones can begin.  This article really opened my eyes, I wont be put off and I will admit that I cant write a novel on the first go (ha imagine if I could!) but I will simply see everything before this hopeful moment as practice.  I will write a novel, but wont force it, I'm back to thinking it will happen in my 30's.

Antisocial socialising - be in the moment.

Be in the moment, these are resounding and compelling words screamed at an audience member who was watching a show through the lens of his iPhone as opposed to just watching it.  Dylan Moran was on stage doing his usual sexy, drunk, English man bit when he stopped and actually seemed to be annoyed, "why are you even here if your just taking photos and recording me?" he asked.  And it is true, why was he there. If all he wanted to do was look at pictures of the show later he should have just Googled Dylan on stage and stared at photos and films there, would have been a lot cheaper.  But of course this poor fella is not the only person who has fallen victim to the convenience of the iPhone.  We are a snap happy generation.  We all carry cameras and recording devices around with us and aren't afraid to whip them out at any moment to capture what ever maybe be happening at the time.  I love Instragram and who doesn't love a good Snapchat.  But with Dylan's words in my head I've started to be aware of how much taking photos actually removes me from whatever I am doing.  Do I spend more time taking photos, editing, hashtagging and sharing photos of my dog then playing with him, and for that matter all moments in my life? 

Earlier this month I went away on holidays to Singapore so or course was in full photo taking mode.  But my other half is not so inclined to take photos of everything and share them with the world.  Most of his Instagrams I have taken and the only reason he is on Facebook is so everyone knows we are in a relationship (this is perhaps another issue).  But his lake of online enthusiasm is actually fantastic, it made me super aware of how much I was taking photos and how often he was just enjoying the moment, it actually changed me throughout the trip.  Anybody could see from my Facebook upload rate that the first half of the trip was filled with snaps, and the second half was fewer and more select.  Of course there is nothing wrong with taking photos, they are beautiful, can be shared with others and are a great way of remembering.  But I feel I need to stop living life through the lens.  I need to look at the waterfall as it is, not imagine what it could be with some cropping and editing, eek what have we become?

And this outrageous need to be online and sharing all the time of course doesn't stop at photos.  It is all online socialising.  Which is of course actually very unsocial, I dine out a lot and ALWAYS notice when two people are having a meal or drink together, but are both on their phones, what is this?  If you're on the phone to someone else, maybe you should be with them and not the sap on the other side of the table.  I would like to not even take my phone to a café, but of course I need to check in on Facebook, Urbanspoon and maybe post a few things to Instgram....what a curse.  And how about Facebook and the constant status updates. Being 24 means that a lot of people my age, thus on my Facebook, have started to get engaged.  And I swear within minutes of the question they are online changing there status and posting their rings...did you even say yes or just grab your phone to share the news.  I cant help but think all these ways of connecting to the people we maybe don't care so much about, are taking us away from the people and things that we really do love and should be paying more attention to, like the boy across the table or the pet curled up at you feet.  Just a thought.

What the hipster

What is going on with all this hipster hate, or hate of any people for that matter.  The only people that I hate are those who are cruel to animals.  But that's a whole other issue.  Back to the humble hipster, I don't understand why they face so much scrutiny and negativity.  Seriously, these people are the bomb.  Here's why:

Firstly and most obvious, the way they dress.  Its warm and friken awesome.  These people pile on layer after layer of clashing prints and some how look amazing.  Any oversized beanie and boot is a statement and most of the chicks rock no make up and bed hair.  They always look so comfy with there tiny tops, cute tights and ridiculously large jackets.  They seem to embrace the fashion for the present and the past with faux fur, Ray Bans and socks with frills (cute as).  Today I saw a boy in a tie-dye shirt and bow tie, what's not to love, he was charming and stood out.  Is that why they are hated?  They aren't afraid to stand out?  To wear their nannas knits and mums kicks?  I love it.  They shop at high fashion stores and salvos, this brings me to point number two.

Hipsters shop at charity stores and make it cool, which is rad.  It promotes aid, recycling and no longer enforces the negative thought idea that people, kids in particular, need money and brands to look good.  You don't, and any "group" who supports charity regardless of the means is just swell.  They are savers at Savers haha...lame.

Thirdly they know where the best coffee shops, markets and gigs are.  Despite their, I'll admit it. uninterested expression I often find people how fit this demographic are in the know, they read, keep up with current affairs and are super social.  Always out drinking, talking and just living.  Ding, ding ding, what are the negatives?  Maybe people are intermediated by this newish strain of carefree kids, and have nightmares of a time when hippies ran free.  But hey I loved that generation too, maybe its me and my positivity.  I think they are rad and I wish I could pull off rimmed glasses, faux fur, florals and boots while sipping on a soy macchiato (yay no cow cruelty).  And on that note I have never seen an overweight hipster, maybe they should be seen as roll models not try hards, just a thought.

The making of a domestic goddess

I don't know when it happened, but somewhere in between moving out of the family home (that my mother kept clean) and moving into a house with 4 boys (that no one cleaned) then moving into an apartment with just 2 boys one being #marvintheschnauzer I became a lady who liked to clean.  All of a sudden I value having shiny floors and an incense filled lounge room, I want clean dishes, our bed to be made and full tissue boxes.  I run around like a crazy person before I have any guests, even if it is just the bestie, Marvin has started being washed more, a vegie patch is growing away happily on the porch and there is always something being baked in the CLEAN oven.  When the hell did I get so domestic?

I haven't gone full OCD my wardrobe is an avalanche every time it try to open it, my mermaid hair rarely gets brushed and I cant handle the bathroom, cause well, ick!  But I can actually see the change in myself and I think I like it.  Obviously its quiet a good thing but I'm still a little surprised by my sudden domestic goddess role, perhaps its because this apartment now feels like ours and only ours, its our mess so is not a big deal to clean.  Maybe its because I love Nigella and anything she does I want to do!  Or maybe again its eek, an age thing, almost 24!  It could be because I spend more time at home.  My two writing jobs are both done at home and my barista job is a mere 1km away.  Instead of constantly going out to meet friends they now usually come over, this year I have already had 3 friends from Canberra come and stay the night and countless Melbourne friends.   And I actually relish this role, I love having girlfriends over when there is wine in the cupboard, homemade olive bread in the oven and soft cheese on the bench. Even more I like having a cheese board to serve it on and appropriate glasses for different alcoholic beverages.  I like Marvin's hipster moustache being clean and Chefs Hat is my new playground and South Yarra markets is my supermarket.  I scroll the internet for fantastic vegetarian recipes and chemical free cleaners.  I don't know anything about celebrities and I love it!

I think I have entered the stage of entertaining, dinner parties, leather bound books, expensive wine and beautiful 1000 count sheets.  I write for fun and read to relax, I have no daily rules (besides yoga and wine) and generally am enjoying moments in a lovely apartment with a well stocked pantry.  So please lovely friends and family come over for tea, I shall make you some cookies and we can be merry and sing.  Because I want to entertain and feed you on a couch that's not stained nor stinky!

True love IS holding it in.

The modern day romantic seems to think that partners farting in front of each other means true love, not holding your farts in is love?  Pfft I simply do no believe this.  My lover better hold it in till the day he dies.  Who are these people that decided this was the equivalent gesture to giving flowers or chocolates.  Anything beyond the, dare I say, almost cute sleep fluffs will drive me mad.  Now I'm not a prude and very aware that "everybody poops" but I don't want to know about it.   I have a pretty high threshold when it comes to the body, give me pimples, stray hairs or belly button fluff and I wont blink twice, but I still value some old school rules like, causally leaving the room to fart.  It's not that hard.

I'm sure some people will disagree and think closeness is based on holding nothing back, and that perhaps I haven't had this level of closeness.  This is not true, me and the lover are very close, been living together for almost two years so there are no real secrets but we do NOT fart in front of each other and we ARE in love. 

I think its a good sign to keep some mystery about each other, having this boundary, even if it is my only real one, shows that we respect each other, or more he respects me and my sensitive girly nose.  I think its a good think, a sign of passion, romance and sex appeal.  He likes to pay for meals, take me out on the town, make me tea and keep me happy. We share everything, I can tell him anything, have complete faith and trust in him and also want to kill him a lot of the time.  We are as close as two peas in a pod!

Ok not right now, I want to punch him because he is stomping around because I don't want to leave the computer and warmth to go to the pub.  But still fart free room!

I really am baffled how this natural but unpleasant action now relates to true love and comfort, what's next?  Pooping with the door open (think that Sex in the City episode)?  Maybe its because I am young, child free (except for Marvin the schnauzer) and always was appalled at my brothers lack of grace.  Whatever it is I am happy not being part of this faze.   I would rather wonder why he left the room then know what he just ate.  That to me is comfort. 

Not done with being the girlfriend.

When you reach a certain age, have been with a fine male specimen for a number of years and everybody loves the two of you together you get asked the inevitable question of when are you getting married, or is he the one.  Well yes he is the one but I am NOT getting married anytime soon and for that matter I don't want to get engaged anytime soon, I'm not done being the girlfriend. Believe or not this is not the only thing on girls minds when they meet a fella and its definitely not on mine.

Now I'm not against marriage I love it, but its something I look forward to, a part of life that I am yet to reach.  Not due to age, maturity or men, purely because I like being a girlfriend.  Its fun, free and comes with daily benefits and pleasures. Beyond this if I get married now, or in the next few years, then it would already be done, I would be a wife, the anticipation and excitement of the big day would be gone, and the next question would be kids............. um get away from me!  To me becoming a fiancé now would be like someone giving me my Christmas presents now, sure I would be happy, who doesn't love presents but its not the right time and when the time scale is not yearly but life, well its just way to early. 

Why do people think that if you are in a committed relationship that your clock is ticking, am I a bomb?  Will our love die if we don't "put a ring on it"  does everybody just want to come to the party?  Whatever it is I wish I would stop getting asked, its awkward and no one ever seems to like the answer "I don't want to yet," its like they don't believe me, is it cause I'm a girl?  There are so many things to come first, in my life.  Travel, travel, travel, more schnauzers and yup more travel.  I feel secure so why don't people older then me let me be.  Why must our relationships fit us into a time slot of life and how far along we are, especially when so many marriages fail.   Why the big push? 

All I know is I'm happy, I'm loved we plan to get fat together when where old and that's all I/you need to know.

You always look the same

"You always look the same", these were either the sweetest words OR I should break up with the man who said them.  I'm hoping not the later.  My lover said this to me one night when we were out to dinner.  And yes I had made the effort to brush my hair, put on some lipstick and slip into a sexy dress.  I sat there stunned looking at him..."umm....gee thanks?'  I thought over the years I'd figured out how to dress myself and make a statement and that my clothes could fit my mood.  I considered myself quiet the chameleon I could do grungy, hipster, work, yoga, nanna, sexy the list goes on.  I know you're not supposed to say this but I like my body and thought I had it figured out.  But to hear I always look the same?  No make up vs. make up is all in our heads?

Being a smart boy he sensed I was disgruntled and followed up with a very cute man speech that made me want to keep him.  "No I can tell the difference when you have gotten all dolled up or when you are on the couch in your trackies, but to me you are always the same.  You always look the same in my mind, beautiful...."  Awwwww.  "Like now I can tell you have that black gunk on your eyes" hmmmmm.   That's right ladies, that smoky eye beauty companies insist we learn how to do to look "sexy" is purely black gunk.  Liberating?  I think not.  Although my other half loves the way I look in all forms, he has no problem in pointing out the flaws in others.

Two nights ago we where at a bar in Windsor, now I always notice people dressed, well, wrong.  And I don't mean slutty or ugly I mean skirts that are too small, fake hair and lack of hygiene.  But I was bemused to see the bf analysing two girls at the bar; "is that girl wearing tights?  what is she going for a run?"  YES boys hate tights too, why do girls continue to wear them as pants when not exercising, yes they are comfortable.  but she was wearing 8inch heels so clearly comfort was not her style.  He continues with the other "and look at her face, why is it so shiny?  she looks like porcelain."  Which translates to way too much bronzer.  Now he wasn't being mean, he was actually confused, bless. 

With these two somewhat conflicting events I have come to the conclusion that if you are loved by the people you surround yourself with you will always be beautiful, but to others you might still look foolish.  So I figure honesty is the key.  Tell your friend not to wear tights to a night club and don't be offended if your boyfriend doesn't notice your new hair cut, because to him, you were already beautiful.

Is it ok if I call you?

The following questions made me the saddest I have felt all year.  "Can I have your number" followed by "Is it ok if I call you?".  I wasn't propositioned at a bar and there was no sleazy men.  It was my pop asking.  I couldn't believe it, he didn't want to bug me but just wanted to keep in touch.  This conversation broke my heart a little.  What had happened over the past few years that my poppy, a man who had known me before I knew myself, didn't think he could call me? 

Was it the rush of me moving from Canberra to Melbourne?  The somewhat surly teenage years? The portrayal of my generation?  Whatever it was I could not stand it.  I have never spoken to my grandparents everyday but I often hand write them letters and try to go to their major birthdays.  This day of sadness for example was on my pops 80th birthday.  But somewhere in between I had somehow lost my sense of approachability, by my family, the shame!  the sadness! the confusion...

I quickly assured this beautiful man that of course he could call me, write to me and come and stay with me.  And I could see the joy in his eyes.  This offer had always been clear to me but not him, I obviously had not been apparent in my affection and wanting to be close.  Since this day I have spoken to him every week, and made the effort to speak to my other grandparents and for that matter all family members, emailing aunties, having drinks with cousins, valuing my family.  But no matter what happens now, or how often I speak to my dear pop, I will never forget the look in his eye or the tone of his voice when he asked if he could call me, and because of this I'm going to call him right now...

Don't touch my vino

Now I don't claim to know everything about wine, I would love to know it all and claim the respected sommelier title but I'm many bottles away from this yet.  That being said I can tell the difference between varietals, name the more obvious tasting notes and I know what I do and don't like.  The day that I could tell and appreciate the difference between a $5 bottle of a $50 bottle of wine is one of my favourite transitions thus far.  It in turn turned me into a teen who drank to "get loose" to an adult who drank for pleasure, so please waitress at ************ pub don't try to mess with this. 

Now I understand that in hospitality we all tell little white lies sometimes or don't know the answer so make it up, "yes I'm sure that is skinny milk".  But you cant blatantly lie to a customer when they have pulled you up.  The other night me and the lover where having drinks at this scandalous pub and I was enjoying a beautiful glass of pinot noir.  I then asked the waitress for another and was brought a glass of red which was not poured at the table.  From the smell I knew it wasn't the same, the taste AWFUL.  I figured she swapped my delicious red for the house.  When she returned I asked her what wine she had given me, she didn't know but said she would ask...(didn't know? how could this be?) she returned and said it was the same as before and "even from the same bottle" (snide tone)  this I knew to be a lie because the first was poured in front of me and the bottle was emptied.  Long story short in the end I was given a new wine but it tainted my view of the place and made me realise how dear my wine is to me.

I'm not a wino by no means (yet) but I do love and appreciate a good drop.  I'd rather go to a winery then a beach any day.  I realise that in hospitality we don't always get it right, we may need to ask questions or bluff.  But please, find out the vintage, winery at least one flavour and match but don't try to switch the wine on me!   All in all don't lie to me about my vino.

No more nothing.

"I must not wish my life away", these are the words a dear friend of my mine said and I find myself trying to live by them.  It's not uncommon to wish the boring, days, hours or even weeks would go faster in anticipation of something better to come.  This wishing for time to pass has come to my attention as being ludacris, how could I wish for less life?!  Yet its a common practice, I'm going to Singapore in a week and wish I was going tomorrow.  But hang on, I have a whole weeks worth of achievements I should be trying to fit in first.  Or not even achievements just life to live.

One undateable, particularly boring night earlier this year I promised my self no more nights of nothing.  In short I decided that I would not be lazy.  Each night I must do at least one of the following; cook something incredible (no cereal for dinner), see a dear friend, write,  take the schnauzer for a long adventure, speak with a distant friend or family member, yoga, lover, read or watch something I have not seen before.

Last night I failed at this, lover was at work, my girlfriend and I decided it was too cold to go out and everything else just fell to the way side.  Needless to say I found myself watching reruns and eating too much, why?  I was waiting for the day to end, today in the light of feeling positive again I must say shame on you to my last night self.  Luckily such dismal a night happens about once a month to me so nothing to panic about but it really was a sorry state of affairs.

Today I have remade this no nothing promise to myself and plan to enjoy my life with no boring moments, today (a day with no real work) has already been filled with cooking, love and taking the schnauzer out.  Also the very productive birth of this blog, tonight I plan to make a disgustingly healthy green soup, become soulful in yoga then get lost in the snuff sniffing world of Sherlock Holmes (the novella) , no more nothing is in full swing. 

Lets see how long it lasts this time... I must not wish my life away.

It Starts

Time to blog, I've always loved writing, I keep a journal, my greeting cards are like war a piece and I have a knack for creating outrageous stories and putting them to paper.  With this background I went to uni and got a degree in, you guessed it, Journalism and arts, woo...

After this said degree I have worked freelancing, writing media releases, re-wording websites, blogging for other people.  All things that are fun but not quite me.  This is what this blog shall be, me.  Well me and the things I love, mainly my passion for food, wine, coffee, baklava, tea, happiness, honey and schnauzers, check out #marvintheschnauzer on Instagram to see why the last point is valid.

My friends have always pushed me to write a blog but it never felt like the right moments, excuses like; but the year has already started or but I just got back from holidays or the ever present "what if no one reads it?!?!?"  not so much procrastination, just waiting for the defiant moment that makes me go aha lets start this.  It appears this moment just happened and the day is today.

My 24th birthday is looming which also brings a trip to Singapore, perfect timing I thought double excuse to get typing! So I started this blog a week before such events, genius.

I have no real outrageous, life changing expectations from this humble blog, bar fame, fortune and maybe a little self discovery.  But I hope you enjoy reading this and I enjoy writing this, that is the key to everything after all, happiness.

Bam first post complete, I am now in the world of blogging.