30 November 2005

Good on ya, mate. No worries.

When the heart weeps for what it has lost
The spirit laughs for what it has found.


I've got a sackful of shitty share-house stories. But now's not the time to tell them. Instead, I'm thinking of a good one.

I've been living in a kind of revolving sharehouse for a while. People come and go; travellers, exchange students occasional Aussies like me.It's been multi-cultural soup.

One of the girls who came to live here has become my friend. That's a big thing for me; it's rare that I make a new female friend. And to top it off, she's the best house mate I've ever had.

I wanted to rip the lid off my culture and offer it to her on a plate. So many movies for her to see, so many books to read, so much music to hear, so many places to go. Instead, we spent ridiculous amounts of time talking. There was never going to be enough time for her to experience everything, although she has seen and understood an awful lot.

She comforted me when I was missing my boyfriend, offered wise words when I was confused, and partied with my friends. She made me laugh, and made me think with her questions and observations. We talked of ourselves, and our countries, and human nature everywhere. She gave me a window into her culture and language that made it more real to me, and made me determined to visit her there some day.

Now she's leaving. Tomorrow she flies back to her country, and who knows when I'll see her again. It's hard to look at someone and really understand that although they have been in your life every day, you won't see them again for years, if ever. We will keep in touch, of course. But it's not quite the same as being there...

So I wanted to say thankyou, for being in my life for this short time. I'll miss you a lot, but I'm glad you were here.

26 November 2005

How old is old?

The other day I asked a woman how old she was. She looked taken aback, then mumbled something about being "too old to tell".

Turned out she's in her mid thirties.

I really don't understand why women are ashamed of their age.

Occasionally, I still get asked for ID. When I flash it and it shows I was born in the seventies, they giggle and say, "you should be flattered".

Why? Why would I be flattered by someone thinking I'm seventeen?

Don't get me wrong, I loved being a teen. I had a great time. But since then I've learnt so much, experienced so much. My life is much richer that it would be if I was still seventeen. I have better sex, more intimate relationships. I'm comfortable with my body. I'm at peace with my contradictions; when I was a teen I fought against them. I understand myself much better, and understand those around me. I'm sure as hell happier now than I was as a teen. And I feel good about growing older, and learning more. I wouldn't want to deny my experience by pretending to be younger.

Someone told Gloria Steinam when she turned sixty that she didn't look sixty.
She replied, "This is what sixty looks like".

24 November 2005

Note to self - put titles on posts

Aroused Girl put up an interesting post today (as always). This time she's talking about the sin of envy.

I can relate to what she's saying. I used to be in a situation similar to hers - in a relationship where there was little affection or sex. I looked at other couples, wondering if they had the same problems. I'd see ones who obviously didn't, and I'd feel terrible. I'd look at articles in newspapers and magazines about sexual dysfunction and I'd cry, because I never thought I'd have to look at those articles.

Then I found that one of my friends envied our relationship. To him it seemed great; so much more intimacy than he got.

That was a while ago. Then I had the great fortune to meet the man of my dreams. Now I read blogs like Dirty Filthy Princess with envy. I know that sort of satisfaction is possable in my relationship - when my partner's in the same city as I am. Now, with him so far, I just read sexy blogs and feel envy. Not long now, lover, and you'll be home!

22 November 2005

hospital tales

A few years ago, I worked for a while in a psych hospital.

There was one lady there called Daisy. She was very old, and I used to talk to her when I saw her around. One day she told me that I was one of only two people that said anything other than hello to her.
She'd been living in the hospital for thirty years.
Thirty years of "Hello Daisy", "Hello Daisy", Hello Daisy."

I understood better when I forgot to wear my staff identification badge one day. No one would talk to me. Then when I put it back on, people would look me in the eye again.

17 November 2005

Castaway

On this day, six years ago, I stopped being pregnant.
I had been pregnant for about two months.

While I was pregnant, I couldn't feel the small thing swimming around in me. Not big enough yet. (although the constant spewing meant I felt it in other ways...) It was a psychological thing, knowing it was there. I would rub my belly trying to imagine it, trying to make it real.

The wierdest thing made it real to me.

I tend to pass out a lot. Especially if I stand up too quick, or take ventolin. Good old low blood pressure. Thing is when I black out, there's a small moment as I'm coming round where my mind is empty of memory. I don't know who I am, or where I am, or who the person looking at me in concern is. (There's often a slight moment of dissapointment when I go, "oh yeah, this is my life. Damn, I was hoping to wake up to something exciting.")

Anyway.

This happened to me when I was pregnant. And as I became concious, before I really was aware and everything was still black, I experienced this glowing ball of light down in my nether regions. I was kind of inside the blackness of my body, but deep in there something was glowing so bright. I was not aware of who I was, or where I was. I hadn't opened my eyes and I certainly wasn't thinking about babies. But I felt like a vessel for something I can't explain. Something more than just a few cells.

I don't know if I believe in souls or spirits or shit. But this experience made me come a bit closer to believing, because it was so out of left field.
Since then I've felt like this small ghost person has been growing up beside me. I will never get away from that.

Thing is, I didn't miscarry. I had an abortion. For reasons that I won't go into here.

People used to say to women who miscarried, "Don't talk about it, just forget it, or go and have another to 'replace' it."
Now we know that's bollocks, and women are encouraged to name their miscarried child, give it a funeral of sorts and be open about their grief.

But there is a perception that women who had abortions don't need those grieving rituals because they chose to get rid of their fetus. Yet most women I know have at least some degree of grief to work through after that. It's so bloody traumatic having to make that decision, and I for one have thought about it constantly and wondered if I did the right thing. Even now I cry sometimes. I mourn that child. I loved that child. I still do. Even though it never got bigger than a smartie.

In the end I had to create my own grief rituals. Then my partner and I wrote a song about it. Even now, I have little conversations with that glowing ball of light. And once a year, on this date, I get very sad and wonder what might have been.

16 November 2005

The meaning of meaning

There was an interesting post on mamalicious about meaningless sex. Can women have meaningless sex? It really got me thinking.

First I thought, I have had meaningless sex. But on further thought I wonder.

Gigi seems to think that sex is meaningful (most of the time) for women but not so for men. (This is very bad paraphrasing, and not quite what she said. To see that, go read her blog. Go on, it's a good one.) I don't quite agree with her. I think sex is probably meaningful to both, in the ways she mentioned. We have sex to express many things, be it lust, love, power, insecurity, curiosity, affection, fear, whatever. So the meaning of sex is something to do with self-expression. It also makes us feel good and connects us to each other (pun intended). The purpose of sex may be to make babies. But I think men would find they give meanings to sex as much as us women do. Men and women aren't that different.

I create meaning out of everything. I don't believe there is an external meaning or purpose for the world. I make my own meanings. So, generally, I found meaning in every encounter I have had. Sometimes I had to look for the meaning afterwards; sometimes it was more that I looked for something to learn from the experience. Sometimes I just enjoyed it. Sometimes I just didn't.

I don't know what life means, or sex. The purpose I have created for myself is to learn as much as I can, to experience as much as I can, to love, to communicate and to enjoy my life. Part of that is sex. So perhaps I've never really had meaningless sex.

What do you think? Is sex ever really meaningless? Any men, women or intersex people out there with an opinion? (Oh God, please let it be intersex. I want some different perspectives on this males vs. females debate.)

15 November 2005

What is this thing called blogging?

Well, I seem to have sorted out the paragraphs.

One thing that bothers me about blogging is that I'm not sure what to write. Funny, that. I'm sure every blogger has that problem at some point.

I tailor my communication to suit the person I'm talking to. I talk about certain things, in a certain way, with certain people. I'm a communication chameleon.
I could be deep and say it's because I talk to people on their 'level', but the truth is probably that I just want everyone to like me.
But here I don't know who my audience is. Anyone is free to read this and make up their own minds. That lack of control over who reads it is what makes me hesitant to write.
It's much easier just commenting on other people's blogs. Each blog has its own style, its own personality, its own flavour. I comment about certain things on certain blogs. But what is the flavour of my blog going to be? Sexual? Political? Intellectual? Personal? Whiny? Witty? Boring?

Knowing me, it will be a bit of everything.

So this is where I face my own blocks, and say freely the things I don't say. And damn the results.
So many people say so much these days that personal revelations rarely shock anyone anymore. Everyone is letting it all hang out. It's only a trauma for the person writing it, who feels they have ripped their guts out for everyone to see.
Stay tuned for some more ranting. I'll post about things I feel strongly about, things that give me the shits and things I'm thinking.

Let's see how close to the truth I can get.

14 November 2005

my life rated - explained

I saw that rate my life thing on a few blogs, and again last night on Desci's and Hambo's, so I thought I'd do it.

You think your score was good Desci? Check this out!

I was asked to provide some words of wisdom because my spirit score was "Much higher than average" and they want to know how I do it so people with a low score can get some tips.
My secret? Think, you damn fools. Think for yourself. Work it out. I don't have the bloody answers, I just don't follow a belief system that tries to make me feel shit about myself.

It's a deceptive score anyway. I scored high for love, and yes I do have someone to love, but he's NOT BLOODY HERE. He's been travelling overseas for a couple of months. So right now, I'm as alone as those who are single.

What I want is to do the test again, on a day where I feel like shit. See how much difference there is. It will be interesting to see. Basically my score is high not because my life is perfect but because I'm really happy anyway, and content with what I have. Some days though, those bars will be all red.

my life, rated

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:
7.3
Mind:
7.7
Body:
5.9
Spirit:
9.2
Friends/Family:
5.9
Love:
9.1
Finance:
6.5
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

12 November 2005

We passed upon the stair...

The markets were full tonight. I cursed myself for not getting there earlier as I fought my way through the crowd. And then I realised I was staring into a face I knew...

"It's you!"
"It's you!"
"Wow. You. So... how have you been?"
"Good! Great! Oh look what I'm wearing - the bangle you gave me, six years ago..."

It had been six years since I saw her. And in that moment all those memories flashed into my head. The talks, the parties, the friendship... the shy glances, the massages that turned to soft stroking as she pushed my hair back and kissed my neck so gently...
Then we drifted, caught up in our own lives. She went overseas for a few years. And now here she was, still the same. Yet not the same.

So many questions. So much catching up to do.

"You must come over sometime. You know where I am. Drop in anytime."
"Sure, of course. Of course I will."

But I knew I wouldn't.

10 November 2005

Breaking news - media full of shit! Public shocked.

I've tried putting a link up to the Spin Starts Here. If it works, and doesn't just kill the blog, I might put a few more links up.

I got into tssh through the magazine The Big Issue. Caz, who's site it is, was writing some good articles about spin in the mag, so I checked out her site and through it discovered the world of blogs.

Bloody spin gives me the shits. I'm not a journo, and I wouldn't be one. (although I'd love to have my own column... being the day-dreaming git I am). I'm not a good enough writer to be a writer. If you know what I mean. I did an intensive media writing course when I left high school, and the only thing I got out of it was the ability to look critically at spin. Now i read our local crappy rag for entertainment - I laugh my head off at the idiots who write for it, and laugh even harder at the idiots who believe it.

It does amaze me sometimes. It's so obvious to me when the media uses inflammetory language, and says thing in such a way to get a certain result. And it works! Every bloody time! Is the whole country full of idiots? (Don't bother answering that.) Or is it just that the idiots write in to the editor, while the people who see through it just snigger and don't bother?

And what I really hate is when they tell us how we feel. "Whole country rocked by embassy bombings" really? No one I knew was rocked. "Whole country outraged over Schapelle's sentance" Really? Slightly amused if anything at all I would say. "Whole country feels warm and fuzzy over Makebe Diva's win". Makebe who? Who gives a fuck about horse races? I don't even get the bloody public holiday, so what do I care?

Sometimes I think every one should have to take compulsory critical thinking and analizing subjects at school. As well as compulsory politics. But then we might have a nation who can think, and we might actually try to get involved...and we couldn't have that now, could we Little Johnny?

OK, that's my rant over for the day. Stay tuned for something completely different - when I discover how to make paragraphs on this thing!

Ps but I couldn't help snigger at this one in the paper the other day. "Man accused of making explosives has charges dropped."
Charges dropped? Hahaha. Snigger. Not good at making explosives then...

8 November 2005

woefully not 133t

Being a n00b, there's heaps of internet slang I haven't worked out yet. Most of it is obvious by the context, but I often wonder at the origins. It seems like one big in joke that I don't know. Apparently I wouldn't be able to call myself 1337 or 133t, this being code for "has computer skillz". But what does it mean? Where is it from?

I can lol and omg wtf with the best of them. If I wanted to , which I don't. But there's a whole bunch of shit that just goes so far over my head I have to squint to see it.

God, I was always a nerd but more the paper nerd. I still instinctively turn to the library when I want to look something up, though I'm slowly starting to think of the net at those times.

I'm now living, for the first time, in a house with an internet connection, a spiffy broadband wireless thing. Well, dazzlingly spiffy for me, but probably yawn material for anyone else. I have a whole world of information at my fingertips, and what do I do? Discover blogs.

Though I do get lost in the depths of wikipedia quite regularly...


******Update: Well, Wikipedia payed off! I now know what leetspeak is. Woot!

1 November 2005

How do you link again?

It seems everyone on the net these days knows how to use it. Well, I can type... a bit. But I'm an absolute noob at computers. I don't know how to use this yet. When I learn how I'll link to stuff, and whatever else you do. It should be funny working it out though...