Back to Work

Fronting up to a Collins Street office tomorrow at 8.30 a.m. is going to be hard. It's been two months, to the day, since I've been in an office, whether in person or remotely. This is a very good thing. I've been overseas. I needed to decompress. Any lingering angst from the last job has gone, bleached from my soul - not that there was much of that, but the overwhelming travel and the complexity of the last project left me exhausted. I feel close to normal now - being tired is part of middle age. 

Then there's all the things that must be considered. What am I going to wear?  What shoes should I put on my feet? After two and a half years of remote work and monthly Darwin Office Casual and Birkenstocks, are my clothes going to be okay? What do I need in my bag? My peripherals pencil case. Myki. Water bottle (and do I take the trusty Yeti or use another one?) Hairbrush. Lipstick. Tissues. Sunglasses /regular glasses/screen glasses. 

Will the team like me? Will I like them? (Going by the people who interviewed me, I reckon that might be a yes.) What are the offices like? What will my laptop be like - will it be an old crusty, or something decent?) Will I need to travel between offices?

And all of this fell into my lap. A recruiter saw my CV after applying for another job, picked me out, put me forward and voila! Job. Of course, I'd been putting it out the universe for a few weeks, making calls, putting in applications, setting up coffee meetings. I did the work. 

I'm incredibly grateful for the two months off. Grateful that I've got my energy back (though the allergies aren't appreciated and I wish they'd go away.) And sure, I didn't get as much as I wanted to done around the flat, but that's okay. I've made a start on it. 

And Lucifer loves me again. 

It's been good. 

Here's hoping this next adventure is a good one. My gut feeling says it's going to be just what I need. 

Today's song: 

Dev Card: Countdown

 I have no idea what to write about tonight, so I'm pulling a card as I'm lacking inspiration.

Thankfully, I've pulled a list one.

The card comes from Catherine Deveny's 100 Writing Prompts from the Gunnas Writing Masterclass. They are awesome. 

Away here's the countdown. 

Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now. (I'm not telling you who I want to say this to by the way.)

1. Shut up, will you. 
2. Have you thought about getting on a mental health plan? 
3. Can you please put a positive spin on this? Please. 
4. I'm not sure I can train with you next week. 
5. Where do I have to be on Wednesday morning, and at what time? 
6. You're acting like a child, but it's okay. 
7. Maybe you could come to my place for a change. 
8. Gentle! Gentle is better. 
9. I don't agree with your point of view, but I'm not going to say anything, because it could get nasty. 
10. When's lunch?

Nine things about yourself. 

1. My eyes are dark green. 
2. My feet have gone up half a size in the last ten years. 
3. I can drive pretty much anything. 
4. Inside, I'm English.
5. I've visited 15 countries in my lifetime. 
6. I'm AUDHD - Neurospicy. It's fun. 
7. I can talk bogan very well. 
8. I love 1980s music and Aussie Rock. 
9. I know the words to Khe Sanh, as all good GenXers should. It's unAustralian not to. 

Eight ways to win your heart. 

1. Feed me roast lamb. 
2. Or ice cream. 
3. Go gently with me.
4. Talk Shakespeare with me. 
5. Or books and writing
6. Take me for a long drive in the country. 
7. Come explore cathedrals and castles. 
8. Make my bed with fine cotton sheets and tuck me in on a cold night. 

Seven things that cross your mind a lot:

1. I should be writing. 
2. When am I going back to Europe? 
3. When will be time for me to replace my car? 
4. I should be exercising. 
5. Should I get a cleaner?
6. Why do I find American politics so fascinating? 
7. What is my author name going to be? 

Six things you wish you'd never have done:

1. Let the second holes in my ears grow over. (Can't be bothered getting them pierced again)
2. Took a contract at one of the supermarket chains - not going back there. 
3. Various dodgy men. Not sharing the details. 
4. Read that cat book for book group - it was dire. 
5. Watched Se7en, the movie. Had nightmares for a week after.
6. Took a date to this one wedding. He nearly got bashed by the groom's family. Would have had a better time on my own. 

Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever):

1. Blarney
2. Jonella
3. Geetangeli
4. Him in Sydney
5. The Gunnas Girls. 

Four turn-offs: 

1. People who are rude to service staff. 
2. Unkempt men. 
3. The smell of washing that's stayed in the machine too long, then hung out to dry. 
4. People who's minds are closed. 

Three turn-ons:

1. Bright, intelligent, creative minds. 
2. Hairy chests. 
3. Expensive aftershave. 

Two words that describe your life right now: 

1. Busy
2. Changing

I start a new job on Wednesday and I'm starting to get ready for all of that. It's big. 

One thing you wish people knew about you. 

1. I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way. 

Today's song: 

It's Party Time

 As an introvert, I find parties hard. 

Some parties are easier than others. Small gatherings don't count. Work Christmas parties are the worst. Anything big and noisy where the alcohol is flowing, the music is blaring and things have a tendency to get out of control is somewhere I don't want to be. 

Most other parties I'll turn up later, generally after spending an hour or so procrastinating about going, arrive late, find a quiet spot, often out with the barbeque, or with the smokers, or under the clothesline. 

Part of me wants to turn up in my Hoody, which reads ‘Sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come’.Lots of introverts have this T-shirt or some other garment with this slogan displayed. 

Last night I went to a party. EJ was having a retirement party. He's been like a little kid for weeks about this. He's also painted the house, sorted out the garden, you name it, he's done it around the house. It was explained that I'd probably turn up, say hello, skulk off to the quiet room and do the jigsaw for an hour (Lots of neurospicy people were going - he thought a quiet room would be a good idea) and then skedaddle as soon as the speeches were done. Fronting up was mandatory, after all, he's been my work husband for years. 

Last night, I got ready. But what do you wear to a party? This wasn't a backyard barbeque. Do I dress up? And if I dress up, then what do I wear? Or dress down? Is this a jeans and a nice top affair, or should I wear a dress? Also, the weather being feral, my summer frocks were out of the question. I ended up changing twice before settling on a comfy dress, leggings and boots. 

I arrived on time, parking the car around the corner. I met some other people going in. They asked if I was going to the old folks' party. Yes, I was. 

We were greeted by a security bloke. Security? At a retirement party. It was explained that there had been a lot of home burglaries in the area in the last few months - the guy was there to stop obvious gatecrashers. 

Parties have changed in the last forty years. No keg. Decent food. You can hear yourself speak - and hear others talking. It was also lovely to catch up with some old workmates. On of EJ's friends, who he hadn't seen since high school turned up with his wife. She and I went on the French writer's retreat two years ago. Seeing her was a highlight. Also getting to meet EJ's daughter, who's his pride and joy, for the first time. 

And there were speeches, and a band, which EJ got up and sang with (he was a part of this band at one stage - and they were pretty good.)

Then there was cake. Good cake. Not a Coles mud cake - not that there's anything wrong with that. 

At 11 p.m. as the crowd was thinning and the feet hurting, I said my goodbyes and left. Two hours after my expected exit time. And I didn't do any of the jigsaw. I'm not sure anybody did. The food was too good, though EJ and his wife will be eating pizza until the Rapture comes. 

Who knew that grown up parties could be fun?

Today's song: 

Sunday Stealing: Stranded on an Island

 It's Saturday, and the questions are out. It's a grim day here in Melbourne - it feels like it's been raining for weeks, even though it's only been a damp few days - and next week looks like scattered showers - which is a bit strange for November. It's okay - the Melbourne Cup got drenched. Never a bad thing. 

I'm also going back to work on Wednesday, so I want to make the most of these last four days off. Yes, Wednesday is a strange day to start a job, but random public holidays for a pointless horse race is also a strange thing. Only in Australia.

The questions come from Sunday Stealing, as always. 

You're stranded alone on a desert island ...

1) Which three BOOKS could you read over and over again?

 Just three? 

Okay, I'm going to have to go for clout here. 

First one, and a contentious pick, would be Hanya Yanagihara's A Little Life. It's a tome. there is so much to unpack here. I've read it once and I want to read it again. It is hard going, but worth it. 

Second book is my favourite book. Louis de Bernieres' Captain Corelli's Mandolin. It's set on an island. It's amazing. 

My third book would be Michel Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White. Another huge book. My original copy was printed on bank paper, and it was still a brick. I took it on holiday once and I was known as 'Girl with the big book' by the staff. I loved every minute of this Victorian thriller. 

These would keep me going. 

2) Which three MOVIES could you watch over and over again?

I have a tendency to watch things over anyway - it's a neurodiversity thing - but what would I take to play again and again. Ooof. I would say something funny, something thought provoking and something gorgeous. 

On the top of mind, for my funny film I might take along The Wedding Singer. I know, it's silly, but it's 80's sensibilities just tickle me. 

My thought-provoking film might be Lost in Translation. The whole making a connection in a strange place, it's just superb. 

My third films would be Amelie. Just so I could set my mind and feel like I'm in Paris again. 

3) Which three SONGS could you listen to over and over again?

Again, I listen to songs over and over again, but here's some I could have on repeat. 

Australian Crawl's Reckless. (Australian music from the 80s is the best.)

Then something to get me dancing. Why not the Rolling Stones Sympathy for the Devil. 

And because I can never get enough of David Byrne and Talking Heads, one of his earlier songs. 

Mind you, if I was stuck on a desert island, I'd take a loaded kindle, internet access and a streaming subscription to keep me occupied when I wasn't swimming./ 

Today's song: 

What they don't tell you about massage

 I had a massage this afternoon. I've not had one for a while, mostly because my 'massage money' had gone towards physiotherapy for the last few months, in an attempt to sort out a lingering arse strain. 

Lingering is the word for this injury. It was done in the gym over six months ago when my foot slipped on a mat at the gym and everything went ping. Sure, I can walk, and go to the gym, but there are things, like squats and deadlifts, which I can do for a while, then things start to hurt. Then some strange knee pain started. My knees are pretty good normally. The pain is sporadic and localised. And because my body's compensating for the injury, my lower back is all tight and just not fun. 

Also, doing bodywork for as long as I have, you get to know all about how your body compensates for injuries. When I busted by bum years ago I had 18 months of strange aches and pains. At least this time I've got physio working on things, and I'm doing the exercises - and it is improving.

Anyway, tonight, as a bit of a pre starting work treat, I went back to my massage therapist, who I haven't seen in months. 

He spent 45 minutes on my back, paying particular attention to my lower back, hips and glutes. As he said, it's all a bit messed up down there. 

It's now feeling a lot better. 

But I'm really sleepy. Massage makes you sleepy. Really sleepy. 

Yep, after an hour of massage just makes you want to sleep. Lots of water, lie on the couch, listen to the rain, watch The Celebrity Traitors finale (current guilty pleasure). 

Typing this is hard. 

Night. 

Today's song: 

Delays and A Pet Peeve

 My start date has been delayed a few days. I blame Cup Day. My pimp blames Cup Day. And it's only two days. I'll be starting on the Wednesday of next weeks. Anyway, the contract is signed, my docs are in, they have my tax file number, Super details and the Tax form has been filled in. In the background, I'm doing the E-Learns which need to be done before I start. 

I see this as a bit of a blessing. It means the company has an extra two days to find me a laptop, get me onto their systems, find me a place to sit when I'm in the office - that sort of thing. There's nothing worse than starting a job and you don't have all of the means and equipment to hit the ground running.

This also gives me an extra two days to write, lunch, exercise and enjoy the last days of being a lady of leisure. 

The rest of me is pretty much ready. My eyebrows have been tamed, the legs are waxed, the car got a bath today, the dishes are done... that long list of things to do has been shortened. 

There's five more days to enjoy. Films to see, lunch to have - a retirement party for EJ on Saturday night. It's all good. 

Now for the pet peeve. 

Does anybody else despise that no matter what you do - what service you take up, what supermarket you go to, what form you fill in, you are sent an email with a survey to complete, which they then follow up on if you don't come back in a short period of time. 

Frankly, I'm over it. 

I've started to complain about these emails / texts / phone calls. Over it. If I'm not happy with something, I'll complain. Otherwise, you did fine. 

Sheesh. 

Today's song:

Theatre Review: The Talented Mr Ripley

The Performance: The Talented Mr Ripley

The Theatre: The Playhouse at the Arts Centre

Runtime: Two and a quarter hours. (No interval)

Until: 23 November

Stars: 4.5

I understand that not everybody likes going to the theatre. But if you're going to see one thing this year, something that's aesthetically glorious, well-acted, approachable and just a delight, then maybe this is it. The Talented Mr Ripley, based on the book by Patricia Highsmith and adapted into a play by one of Australia's most celebrated playwrights, Joanna Murray-Smith. 

It's great. 

Okay, I have a bias. I love the 1999 movie with Matt Damon, Jude Law and Gwyneth Paltrow. I'm also a fan of the series on Netflix. Ripley is an enigma. A sociopath. A person who you love to hate, but you have to admire his chutzpah. He's slippery. All of this is a part of his charm. 

For those who aren't aware of the plot, Tom Ripley (Will McDonald) is a grifter who's asked by a rich industrialist Herbert Greenleaf (Andrew McFarlane) to bring his son Dicky (Roman Delo) back from Italy, where he is living with his girlfriend Marge (Claude Scott Mitchell). Ripley is obsessive in becoming invaluable to Dicky. However, when things go awry and he begins to fall out of favour with Dicky, the consequences are grave. Ripley then starts to live as Dicky, moving from the coast to Rome. When an old friend of Dicky's shows up, Ripely does what he has to do to ensure he's not found out. 

Will McDonald is a near perfect Ripley. Charming and self-doubting in equal measure. He's incredibly easy to watch as he slips his way into Dicky Greenleaf's (Roman Delo) live. The two bat off each other with ease. The rest of the cast, Faizal Hamza, Claude Scott Mitchell, Andrew McFarlane and Johnny Nasser give great support to the two main characters. 

Set in the early 60s, the costumes for this production are divine - Emma White's costumes are to die for. It takes us back to a time when men really knew how to dress. 

I also loved the stripped back, minimalist staging. Elizabeth Gadsby's set worked to the plays advantage as sets and props were easily wheeled on and off the stage, with one door at the back which acted as everything from a wardrobe to a bathroom to the door to a balcony in Venice. It was done so well. Interested and engaging and it supported the action on the stage. 

Sarah Goodes direction is impeccable too. With a two hour and fifteen-minute run time, this is a long play, especially without an interval, but the action keeps you going. It also has enough light and shade within the action so that you don't get too uncomfortable. Fans know what's going to happen - but you aren't sitting there clinging to your seat either. 

Oh, and they have Violent Femmes songs as a part of the soundtrack. Love the Violent Femmes. 

This performance started out in Sydney and has transferred down here. (Just as the Red Stitch Theatre Company's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf is playing up there with the STC at the moment.) It's wonderful that we get to see the best of the best. If you're going to get a ticket to something, I'd suggest make it this one. It's great. 

Today's song: