The Rude Awakening

 "Meet me for coffee on Little Collins Street at 9. a.m."

HOW RUDE! Doesn't he know I'm between jobs - I'm barely out of bed by nine. 

But, as he's my favourite recruitment consultant, and I've been trying to catch up with him for a coffee for weeks, there are things that will get you out of bed at seven thirty, feeding the cat, showering, washing your hair, dressing in something other than active wear, grabbing your bag and getting on a commuter train.

We used to do this every day. The rigmarole of going to the office. 

After COVID, we would do it maybe two or three times a week.

After six weeks of long lay ins, this all came as a shock. 

We talked about all sorts of things - he's awesome, you see. That time off, how our training sessions were going (his awful, mine good), about films (See Wicker and La Bola Negra and give Digger a go). About the dodgy market at the moment, how America is sneezing so the rest of the world gets the ebola.) About moving jobs. About his new partner. About me carting around a backpack on what time between jobs. 

"I'm heading to a library to write."

"Can't you write at home?"

"There are fewer distractions. No cat demanding treats. Nothing to clean."

All of this is true. 

After the coffee, I wandered down Little Collins Street, looking at the building I've worked in, the new cafes, the retrofits, the abundance of low lighting and wood tones. The dress codes of the workers. Gone are the days of the suits. Dress casual. Clean sneakers. Wide legged jeans and a blazer. Gone are the days of dry-cleaning bills and sheer tights - I mean how did I ever wear them to work for thirty years. The faces look younger. Of course, there are the anomalies. The baby goths with white makeup and pink hair. The school kids prepping for exams, sneaking in a bubble tea on their way to another space. Faces that show the melting pot that Melbourne has always been but now is more on show. Chinatown has morphed into a plethora of Korean and Japanese cafes, there's shawarma at every turn, butting up against the hipster coffee shops. 

I walked down Centre Lane and wonder if I went to the Zen noodle shop they'd still know my order (Flat rice noodles with hot chilli and chicken). Koko Black has given Haighs a run. High end footwear and expensive but dodgy face creams line the street. Mork Hot Chocolates, an expensive delight, calls, but I walk on. 

I'm waiting on the paperwork to start this job. It's been a long process - a not for profit is something different for me, and I very ready to go back to work, but this getting up early crap, I'm not sure I'm really ready for that, and all it entails. 

Today's song:

Outsource to AI - Voting

I'm about to vote in the Victorian State Election. When I say I'm about to, I'll be going along to an early voting centre and casting my vote early. I've been an early voter for years. Avoid the crowds and the barbeques and the people trying to push paper into your hands. Early voting starts on the 18th. 

Having a bit of time, I'm doing my research. I know where I stand, but I'm rather interested in what goes down the bottom my vote. I'm reasonably informed. Having a chat to the local Greens candidate the other day I set out my list of grievances, being:

• Fix the bloody potholes
• Stop the corruption
• Stop selling out to the CFMEU (I'm very much for unionism - but more along the lines 
• Pay teachers and nurses better
• Fund the Arts and not just the highbrow stuff
• Sure up funding for Domestic Violence
• Ensure women's rights
• No AI data centres
• Look at taxing the Churches
• Look at getting rid of Melbourne Cup Day and Footy Day (Pointless public holidays)

The taxing the Churches and the eradication of the two pointless days off are just nice to haves. The rest I would like to see happen. 

I've also spent the weekend within the echo chamber of a writer's retreat, where one of the crew is a counselor at an inner city local council. We discussed the joys of politics and how keeping your promises is hard when you have to work with others. There are budgets and timelines and all sorts of other things going on in the background. Want your green bins collected every week? Are you good with the rate rise that comes with that? What about new bike lanes? What do the Traffic Safety people say about that? There are all sorts of things going on which mean your promises are, if not watered down, thrown out the window. 

"So it's a bit like the Dutch system?" I asked her.

"What's that?" she asked back. 

"Everybody compromises and nobody's happy."

She laughed at that. 

I've also got my no go areas. One Nation. Last on the preferences. Absolutely not. I get the desire to disrupt  - but not that. Give me a disrupter like Abdul El-Sayed - thoughtful, educated, articulate and driven by facts. Not the shite Pooline and her crew grind out. 

Anyway, I put the following prompt into ChatGPT.

"I live in the Richmond District in Victoria. I am left wing, want the best for schools, hospitals and the environment, I want them to fix the pot holes and believe we should have a train that goes to the airport. There should be no AI data centres built. I want the Arts and DV better funded.  Who should I vote for and where should my preferences lie?"

To be honest, I rather liked the initial response:

"Based on the issues you've raised, I'd suggest looking closely at the policies of the Victorian Greens, Labor, and any progressive independent candidates standing in your electorate.

There are some important distinctions between them, particularly on public transport, environmental protection, public services, arts funding and family violence prevention.

I can help you work out where each party and candidate stands, and how to allocate your preferences under Victoria's voting system. I won't simply tell you who to vote for, but I can give you a factual comparison so you can make an informed decision."

Below this were a list of comparisons between Greens and Labor, links to policies, links to candidates web pages and generally it collated the information I required without having to go searching for the information. 

It didn't tell me who to vote for. 

But it did give some good information and cut down the search times. 

I'll give it that. 

Today's song:

Lazy Days and Tuesdays

 A dot point bllog because I've had a lazy day today:

• The job is coming - just waiting on the paperwork, but I've got verbal confirmation from the Program Manager. 
• I did two loads of washing and got them dry on the line - bliss. 
• I've rediscovered True Blood - the reason why nothing got done today. 
• The New York Times has Mushroom Wellington as its recipe of the day - Australians are going bonkers in the comments. 
• Tomorrow, new episodes of Rivals are coming out. 
• I wanted to go to the gym today. Didn't happen. It will tomorrow. 
• As the job will be coming soon, I've started making a list of things I still want to do during this time off. 
• I'm heading interstate for a night on Saturday. 
• Must contact my cat sitter.
• I should keep a tinnitus log - funny, it was really bad when I was down the Great Ocean Road, but it's settled a lot today, Hmm.
• Maybe I should start learning that freemason's ritual for the week after next. 
• And yearh, tomorrow is another day, but maybe, with the new episodes of Rivals coming online, I might have another down day. 

Today's song: 

Everything's Coming Up Pistachio

When did pistachios become a thing? It's like overnight, this rather niche flavour has gone viral. 

It's so fetch. 

Like fetch, pistachios have been chipping away at the zeitgeist like a teenage wannabee chipping away at the popular kids lunch spot. 

What was a fairly uncommon flavour of nuts and the occasional gelati has gone absolutely nuts. 

Pistachio is a favourite colour now (I admit to being a fan of this pale green.)

 (This image is AI generated using the prompt "Design me a gif of a woman wearing a casual outfit in a pistachio green colour with an italian inspired background looking very pleased with herself.)

There is the pistachio version of nutella - which I rather like. 

I had a pistachio drink this evening made of pure coconut water infused with pistachio and white chocolate. It was very nice, even it it reeks of hippy shit. 

I've also had a pistachio flavoured pudding, which wasn't as successful. I think there are better ways to get 15 grams opf protein into my system. The pudding itself tasted too artificial, but as a low carb, high protein treat it was fine. Thanks to the predominance of GLP1's everything's coming up protein at the moment. 

I also have some pistachio flavoured toothpaste - but that's for use at night. I prefer minty breath using the day. 

But with this explosion of pistachio, I have some questions:

• Where are all the nuts coming from?
• Who has to shell them? 
• Is this fad going to last? 

Just saying...  I will admit that I rather like it, when the flavour isn't too artificial. 

And don't get me started on Biscoff. Unlike pistachio, I can't see myself using Biscoff toothpaste. 

(Yet another AI generated gif.)

Today's song: 

Sunday Morning Vibes

Sleep is an underrated commodity. 

After being woken by a storm early Saturday morning and being unable to to get back to sleep, yesterday was a bit of a write off. 

Taking myself off to bed early, avoiding the noise, the heat and the bumps of the evening dance party, I read and doomscrolled the evening away after a decent hot shower and a cup of tea. I located some sleeping tablets in my toiletries bag, deciding not to take one, but the option was there if slumber alluded me. Thankfully, it didn't come to that. 

Seven hours of decent sleep, a coffee, a sit by the fire, another shower, a few gentle chats and I'm feeling ready to start the day.  It's only 9.30. So far, I've talked with people on the subjects of:

• New Zealand politics
• The fact that Netanyahu is out
• The state of the Victorian elections
• The alternatives to Roundup
• Why the C-Word can be used by women, but not men
• The underrated joys of South Australia
• South Australian bakeries
• The joys of surfer boys
• Tarot
• Theta healing, among other topics. 

But now, I'm ready to face the day. 

I brought with me five books down with me for the trading table. I'm going home with four. Of these books, I found a copy of Michel Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White. This is one of my favourite books. I loaned my copy to somebody, on the proviso that it came back to me. It never did. I rue the day I loaned out that book. Yesterday, on the trading table, I found a copy of this book. My heart is full. 

On the clothes rack, I also found a pair of jeans, which fit. $20. Done. I'm wearing them now and they are so comfortable. 

I've also harassed the retreat cat, Oreo. But not in a bad way. 

Oreo and I are old friends. She knows if she comes near me, she will get a pat. Or worse. This morning, she was demanding exit from the Chapel. Of course, she had to pay the exit tax by being picked up, kissed on the head, and put down, before the door was open. It's cat law. 

She really is the best cat. She's tiny. Friendly, bolshie, fearless. She takes groups of people down the beach, leading the way like a sherpa. 

I love my time down here. I love these people. I know how blessed I am to spend time with my tribe. I am blessed to be able to make the space and time to write. I'm aware of the privilege to be able to do all of this. 

And I have a night on my own, in the chapel, where I can have the room and the peace to do as I will. I've snaffled a couple of beers in the fridge, procured a coffee pod machine so I can have a coffee in the morning. I'm told Emma may leave me some leftovers for dinner - if not, I'll schlep into Apollo Bay and find a pub meal. 

Most of all, I'm looking forward to the quiet. The only sound is the rumble of the Southern Ocean and the occasional passing car. An evening to delve into the silence. 

Today's song: 

Sunday Stealing searches for meaning

 I am once again down the Great Ocean Road on a writer's retreat. It is supposed to be late Spring, however last night it was blowing a gale, tipping down and generally miserable. Due to the stormy conditions, I've only had three hours sleep. Although I'm amped on coffee and Ritalin, I'm not sure I'm up to looking at the meaning of life. I think I'd rather sit by the fire in the dining room and nap.

Regardless, I'll give these a go. I probably won't have much to say - I'd like to get back to penning my novel. And I'm sitting here in a Metallica t-shirt and sparkly pink gumboots. This is my writing uniform. I can't waste this time, especially as it looks like I'll be going back to work soon. 

Questions, as always, have come from Sunday Stealing.

1. If you could go back to any age, which would you choose and why?

I'm going to say 42. I had most of my crap together at 42 and it was just before the joys of perimenopause started to bite. Fun, heh!

2. If you could snap your fingers and change any single aspect of your life today, what would you change?

Seriously, I'd love to be a size 14 (I think that equates to size 10 in the American sizes. I've always been big, but I reckon size 14 would be a great thing to be. Size 16 is my aspirational, happy place size. I know it's a number. I know I'm healthy, but being bigger makes getting clothes hard. It's better than it was - and I'm not that big - but you have more choice when you're smaller. 

3. Define a "good" or "successful" life.

If I'm really honest, if you are stable, have friends, have your emotional, spiritual and physical needs met, get to be challenged every now and then and 

4. What's the best compliment you've ever received?

Not so much a compliment, but I love when people tell me they have no idea what I'm thinking. 

5. What's the most valuable thing your parents taught you?

Resilience. 

Today's song: 

And now for the hard bit.

The car is packed. I've thrown out the rubbish, turned off unnecessary outlets. The bed is made. The dishes have been washed

I've got the snackies and the drinks and the car trips necessities. 

All is well. 

Now, I just have to get the cat into his carrier and we can go. 

He knows something his up. His blanket isn't where it's supposed to be. I've been moving stuff around the place, taking the weekend's needs down to the car. 

Just wish me luck.

At least chasing around an eight-year-old cat is a little easier than chasing round a two-year-old critter.

Great Ocean Road here I come. 

Today's song: