51 Days: The Empath and the Woo Woo

This morning I took myself off to meditation this morning, my ultimate playlist on the car stereo. There was a sense of peace as I made my way out to Caulfield with the knowledge that I wouldn't need to flick over any songs. The Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, James Blunt and Jeff Beck - an awesome drive was had.

I made it in good time -  a bit of a rarity for me as I normally burst into the meditation room as the session in starting. I took my seat on the sofa in the circle in which I have been meditating for ten years.This is a closed circle. You need to have studied Kabbalah under our teacher to attend. I sat down next to Gloria, who I have been sitting next to in meditation for the last ten years. We've had the same spots in the circle over all this time. Maybe there is a reason why she and I sit in the North East of the room, but we've never really known why we've had the same spots. It's just the way this meditation group goes.

Today's meditation was on the path of Judgement. Malkuth to Hod. The path of family. A path of seeing your own way forward. It equates to the letter Shin (ש) in Hebrew. The coming to the knowledge that you're going to have to make your way in the world.

The meditation has a format. We start the the Kabbalistic Cross - a simple blessing which equates to the lines in the Lord's Prayer, "For thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory". We then construct the Kabbalah Tree of Life in ourselves before taking off on our guided meditation.



After that, I can remember about two minutes of the meditation. Of late, I've been falling asleep once I've lit up the tree. Today, I made it until we met Prometheus, tied to a rock being eaten by an eagle. Great. I have to book from which we get our meditations. I appears I was asleep for about 80% of the session. The next thing I know, the tree has nearly been closed and I've been asleep for about half an hour. Thankfully this time, I didn't snore. I've been known to do that.

We go for breakfast afterwards. I've been going to breakfast after meditation with Gloria and Dee for many, many years. Were joined by two others. As is our habit, we out the world to rights. Dee is big into environmental and indigenous issues. Gloria is also very socially aware. I live for my second Saturday breakfasts.

However, today's meditation had more of an affect on Gloria. Coming into our cafe, she was on the verge of tears. This is a reasonably common occurrence - the meditations are very powerful. I think this is why I fell asleep today. Gloria, on the other hand, had to sweat it out.

It has come to pass that it's my job to bring things back to a level. It's my 'talent'. One of the joys of being an empath - and a healer.

Before the coffee's came, I started my work. We tried a couple of methods of bringing her out of her funk. Working on chakras. Making her laugh. Stomping her feet. All this managed to do was bring her  tears closer to the surface. In the end, it took a long bear hug to get her to start coming around.

This meditation stuff can be dangerous.

Regardless, I've been sent back into doing Woo Woo.

Woo Woo?

If I'm honest, the witchy stuff is my other vocation. I don't think about doing this stuff. It's something I have to do.

My witchy stuff. The healer stuff. The things I do which help people to start the healing process. I'm not bad at it, I'm told - but after a break, I'm having more and more people come to me for healing work - whether it be tarot, reflexology, theta healing, reiki - you name it, I seem to do it.

Gloria is coming around tomorrow night for a session.

I can't tell you what will go on. I don't know myself.

It's a hard thing to describe what happens in a session. As I have to do all of this with my intuition. I have to listen to this inner voice to see what works.

But it doesn't work, and cannot work all the time. It doesn't work on people who don't want to be helped. It also doesn't work that well for those going through huge and painful episodes. In the latter situation, all you can do is be there for the person and hold their pain.

One thing that I constantly remind myself of as I do this work. You can't heal everybody.

I'm curious to see what will come out of tomorrow night's session. Gloria and I have done some incredible and deep work in the past. Who knows what will come up.

And after that, we're going to watch Hannah Gadsby at the Sydney Opera House.

For one of the best healing agents in the world is laughter.

Today's Song: (And for my brother, this gem comes from 2015 - though not a real fan of rap, I love the Hilltop Hoods)

52 Days: A night at home with the cat

That is about it. It's Friday night, I had an early dinner, came home, showered, and I am spending the night with the cat and we're watching Suits.

I'm an introvert. I need nights in.

Myers Briggs has me tagged as an INFJ. I need lots of time off from people.

It's been a big week.

I was out of the house at 7 am as I had to meet some real estate agents about selling the temple.

I'm knackered.

I'm thinking about making a hot chocolate with 90% Lindt and Macadamia milk.

I'm in my pyjamas.

There is my new hot water bottle warming the bed.

The cat is snoring on his blue snuggie on the couch. It's his snuggie now. Just as his blue teddy is at the foot of the couch. He loves his blue teddy. I think I've adopted a toddler, not a cat. Just as needy in many ways.

The #Darvey fandom are in overdrive. Just don't mention the strawberries.

I should be addressing selection criteria for another job prospect - but I have until Sunday evening to do that, so I won't do it tonight.

I'll just continue to watch Suits and talk to the cat.

And this is about as close to bliss as I can get.


Today's Song:

53 Days: Your my favourite waste of time

I want to write the great Australian novel, but I am very good at one thing which is stopping me.

Procrastinating.

I am very good at procrastinating.

Dictionary.com describes procrastinating as the act of delaying or deferring an action. It comes from the Latin, Procrastinatus - to put off until tomorrow. See - I procrastinated there by looking up the Latinate of this word. The Oxford English Dictionary was made for procrastinators.

Which is slightly different to equivocators. (Faith, here's an equivocator!) Equivicators are people who equivocate, which is described as "to use ambiguous or unclear expressions, usually to avoid commitment or in order to mislead; prevaricate or hedge."

Equivocators and procrastinators are as bad as each other. In the words of the Porter in Macbeth (Act 2, scene 3) "Faith, here's an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales against either scale; who committed treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven. O, come in, equivocator."

I didn't have to look that one up. I just like spouting Shakespeare. It's another form of procrastination.

But I equivocate. I'm talking about procrastination.

I have favourite ways to procrastinate when writing. There are some good ways to procrastinate.

Some of the things I do include:

• Planning the ultimate holiday (Suite at the Plaza, New York, anyone? Business class of course)
• Sorting the ultimate playlist
• Cleaning the bathroom - which is procrastinating and useful at the same time
• Reading - never a waste of time but it doesn't get jobs done.
• Talking to the cat - and I have a cat to talk to at the moment
• Going to the gym
• Candy Crush / Clash of Clans / Words with Friends
• Binge watching whatever takes your fancy - currently Younger (on Stan - and 20 minute episodes means you can put it down easily), Harrow, The Handmaid's Tale, Suits and Billions are all up there.

Then there is the hard core procrastination. This is the guilty pleasures which really shouldn't be classed as procrastinating. These are the hard core habits that you don't really like to admit to.

My current sanity procrastination is Darvey fan fiction. Darvey. Yeah. I won't say any more other than it is a Bermuda Triangle of bad writing. You can't look away. 

It's awesome.

And my favourite waste of time. Just don't tell anybody.

Right, time to find tomorrow's song of the day. (Procrastinating again instead of doing the ironing)

Today's Song:

54 Days: Movie Review - The Incredibles 2

I will say it. I LOVE Pixar and genuinely believe they can do no wrong.

So, it was a fair assumption that I would love The Incredibles 2.

Yep.

Okay, what's to love.

First of all, the eponymous short - the little film that comes at the start of the film - like the one with the birds on the wire from Monsters Inc, or the one about the Jackalope film, or my favourite, which came out in cinemas with Inside Out, the one about the two volcanoes - Lava.

Bao has all of the emotional clout you expect from a Pixar short - funny, sad and wise.

And then we come to the main feature, which takes place immediately after the first film, which was released about 14 years ago. In the last scenes of the original film, the family start to battle a new baddie, The Underminer.

The Incredibles 2 takes place just after this, where once again, the super family find themselves at odds with the law.

IMDB.com describes the plot at "While the Parr family has accepted its collective calling as superheroes, the fact remains that their special heroism is still illegal. After they are arrested after unsuccessfully trying to stop the Underminer, their future seems bleak. However, the wealthy Deavor siblings of Devtech offer new hope with a bold project to rehabilitate the public image and legal status of Supers, with Elastigirl being assigned on point to be the shining example. Now having agreed for now to stay at home to care of the kids, Mr. Incredible finds domestic life a daunting challenge, especially with baby Jack-Jack's newly emerged powers making him almost impossible to manage. However, Elastigirl soon has her own concerns dealing with the menace of a new supervillain, Screenslaver, who is wreaking havoc with his mind control abilities. Now, Elastigirl must solve the mystery of this enemy, who has malevolent designs on the world with the Parr family and friends key targets of this evil."

The Incredibles 2 is funnier than the original - and most of it comes from Jack-Jack's hi-jinks. The scenes with the raccoon are comedy gold. The film also has a lot to say about modern parenting and what we do as a family to get by.

The film also sees the return of all if the original voices - Holly Hunter as Elastagirl, Craig T. Nelson as Mr Incredible and Catherine Keener and Bob Odenkirk as the new nemesis, Evelyn Deavor and Winston Deavor. There are

There is also the return of  Frozone (Samuel L. Jackson)  Rick Dicker and Edna Mode - three of my favourite characters from the first film.

What Pixar does best is animation that appeals to all ages. Kids will love the action sequences. Adults will adore the wry humour.

The only small detraction from the film is the strobe effects which are plied liberally through the film make this unsuitable for anybody with epilepsy or who have trouble with these types of lighting effects.

For me, my only question is when can I go and see it again.

Love it. More please.

Four and a half stars.



Today's Song:

I have been challenged to select songs that are less than five years old. My kid brother has said that I have strange taste in music. I give you Amy Shark (2017)

55 Days: Ganesha

The Hindu god, Ganesha, sits on his plastic swan on my work laptop. A colleague brought him back from India for me.

Friends are aware that I collect ornamental elephants and they bring them back for me all the time. The smaller the better, and preferably from natural materials - jade, metal, wood. I have about 20 of them sitting on my bookshelves, but this is my first Ganesha. I was hoping for a blue Ganesha - stemming from the mystical god that escorted me through a sound healing session a few years ago.

According the Wikipedia, Ganesha "Ganesha is widely revered as the remover of obstacles,  the patron of arts and sciences and the deva of intellect and wisdom. As the god of beginnings, he is honoured at the start of rites and ceremonies. Ganesha is also invoked as patron of letters and learning during writing sessions. Several texts relate mythological anecdotes associated with his birth and exploits and explain his distinct iconography.

I like that he is a remover of obstacles. You do need obstacles in your life, but assistance in removing these obstacles is great.

He's going to stay on my keyboard for the time being. I like him there. He's helped me get an extension on my contract at my current job for a few more weeks (paperwork pending). He might help me get the last of this Bali holiday booked and ready to go. Ganesha is a very useful god.

You never know what Ganesha might do - but I he certainly can't hurt - just like burning my green candles and saying thank you and remembering to be grateful for everything.

Ganesha is a reminder that there are great things out there. All you have to do is believe and have faith.



Today's Song:

56 Days: Film Review - Disobedience

What happens when you are born into a community which doesn't necessarily support who you are? Do you stay? Do you leave? Do you make compromises? Disobedience looks at the convergence of identity, family and faith is a wonderfully quiet film set in North London among the Orthodox Jewish Community.

It tells the story of Ronit (Rachael Weisz), who returns to London for her father's funeral. She has not been back to the community after being shunned many years before. She has made a successful life for herself in New York and her presence at her Rabbi father's funeral is not wanted.

She lands at her childhood friend, Dovid's (Alessandro Nivola) place. Dovid, a rabbi in training welcomes the grieving Ronit into his house. His wife, Esti (Rachael McAdams), Ronit and Dovid were inseparable as teenagers and their bond is strong, however her years of absence mean that Ronit is at odds with the community. Shunned for her actions as a teenager, Ronit has to find a way back into the community to mourn her father. Her actions from years ago have put her up there with Lord Voldemort in the popularity stakes. As she rekindles her relationship with Esti, there are consequences for all involved. At one stage in the film, Esti comments, "It's easy to go." Ronit counters, "No, it's easy to stay."

What ensues is a study of faith, friendship and sexuality. Disobedience provides a look into the world of Orthodox Judaism in North London (having many Jewish friends, the representation appears very true to life). The small details also make this film, right down to the mezuzahs, yarmulkes and seders. In some ways, it shows a foreign world on the doorstep.

This is a quiet film. The Director, Sebastian Lelio, in his first English language film, pitches the silences against the grey of the North London skyline. As the film progresses, Esti's apparent unhappiness mirrors the bleak London visage.

Rachael Weisz and Rachael McAdams are excellent in this, some of their best performances of their careers. Alessandro Nivolo is a also great as Dovid - a man entrenched within a community who battles with his wife's desires and choices.

I admit, having had some exposure to the Jewish community made this film very accessible, unlike for the people behind me, where one member of the party was explaining some of the finer points of Jewish life to his companion (grrrr). Regardless, it truly a wonderful film.  Disobedience won't be everybody's kettle of worms, a Jewish, lesbian, independent drama never will be, but it is a beautiful study in humanity. Well worth the price of the ticket.

Four stars.

Today's Song

57 Days: Cricket's Drivel Meme

I've just done my first online interview. I think I present better face to face. I'm not putting that down as an experience I want to repeat.

Nevertheless, a new job will come soon, regardless of the outcome of this interview. We will see what happens. There are great things out there - just have to find them.

Off to see a movie in  bit - let's see how much of this I can get done before this.

Questions, as always, from Bev at Sunday Stealing.


1. When was the last time you went to the doctor? Do you like your doctor?

I went about three months ago as I needed to sort out my blood pressure medications. I like my doctor. She's about my age, she listens to me and she's funny. We giggle a lot together. A doctor that listens is a good thing.

2. My back is itching, will you scratch it for me?

Of course. Or if I'm short on time I'll show you to a door jamb or find you a spaghetti strainer (I thought these were back scratchers until a few years ago).

3. Do you have nice handwriting?

No. I have doctor's handwriting. Always have had terrible writing. I prefer to type.

4. We are sending you to either New Zealand or Canada, which one do you choose?

I've been to New Zealand many times - I can get there in three hours. So send me to Canada as it looks awesome. I'd happily live in either of those countries as they are both a lot like Australia, and better on the social welfare front. Both countries are far more socially progressive than Australia and I see this as a good thing.

5. Do you sing in the shower?

Sometimes. And badly.

6. Have you ever been streaking? If so, how far did you streak and did anyone see you?

No. I've skinny dipped, but not streaked. It's illegal to do this at public events anyway. (Oh, I used to work with the son of the Twickenham Streaker (the first  streaker recorded in England)



7. How soon is too soon for Christmas decorations and music playing in the stores?

September. October. November. I think Christmas decorations should come out about 1 December. That seems right to me. Bah humbug.

8. If you celebrated Halloween as a kid what was the costume you wore at 5?

I'm Australian. We don't do Halloween. That's an American Hallmark thing.

9. How many cavities have you had in your life?

I think about 5. I've been lucky. One  a decade. Thank goodness Adelaide had flouride in the water.

10.  Is there anyone you regret meeting.

Nope. There are a few people I'm glad are no longer in my life, but I have learned from them.


Yay. Done. Off to my movie.



Today's Song:

58 Days: The Float

I've been having a float about once a month for a while now. Tonight was float night.

There is something very healing about being immersed in a tank of water held at room temperature in relative silence and total darkness for an hour.

For me, this is think time. Time to work out a lot of things that I don't necessarily have the time to think about. Without fail, I come out of the tank rested, rejuvenated and clearer of thought.

Tonight's float was necessary - it's been a big week, and a long week. By the end of the float, I was more at peace.

So, what goes through my mind while I'm floating away in the darkness, other than working out that occassionally, a foot or hand will gently bump into  the edge of the tank.

Well, here are the things I put to peace in the tank:

• Am I doing enough to look for a new job? (Yes)
• When will I do the preliminary digital interview? (Tomorrow)
• Did I feel slightly scared about the eye tests I had this morning? (Yes, but all fine - they're keeping an eye on it, but the visual field test is freaky)
• Should I have gone to the gym today? (Yes)
• Have I got an inroad into my dystopian novel (yes)
• Did I say the right thing to a friend who suffered a miscarriage this week (What can you say? I don't think I put my foot in my mouth)
• What am I going to do for my birthday?(Other than Bali, start looking for a party location)
• Can I move on with my film script? (Yes)
• What do I want to do with my life? (Write, amongst other things)
• Will the cat and I get on okay? (Of course)
• How is the axe wound feeling? (Okay - I'm at the anger / frustration stage)
• What did I think about the play I saw last night? (Jury is still out - otherwise pretty good)
• Will I see a film tomorrow (Yes)
• Should I have done my blog earlier? (Absolutely)

Not much of a blog today - I'm a bit zonked from the float. But I found a couple of choice songs while I was laying there too. 

Today's Song:

59 Days: A Night on the Couch

Following the hottie disaster the night before leaving my bed like a child's paddling pool, it was to be that I'd be spending the night on the couch. When I got home last night, the mattress was still damp  - not as bad as it was that morning - there was no way I as going to sleep on it.

Last evening was spent dousing the mattress with bicarb soda, hoovering the stuff up and applying heat from my hairdryer liberally and often to the offending piece of furniture until about midnight. By then, although a lot of the moisture had subsided, but I gave up I gave up my efforts for the night.

So I spent the night on the couch.

On the good side of things, I bought a new couch late last year. It's big. It's leather. It is very comfortable. A six foot adult and lie down on it happily and still have feet room. Although it's a bit narrow, this was not the worst thing in the world to sleep on.

However, on waking this morning, I truly felt like I had slept the night on the couch. It's not the same as being tucked into my lovely comfy bed. The support isn't the same.

But it's better than sleeping in a puddle.

So the day didn't got off to a great start. I ran ten minutes late to let a tradie into the temple thanks to the sluggish feeling that comes from a mediocre night's sleep. He was forgiving - he's been late in me in the past, so we're even.

I was at work by nine, but it's been hard to get stuck into anything today.

Having a week left of this contract, it's quite hard to focus on much. I think the term is checked out. There are a few of us in the same boat. The work is getting done, but some of the enthusiasm has gone.

It was my monthly engineer's lunch today. That's been a bright spot. After work, I'm having a spot of dinner with Jay before we go to see a play - The House of Bernarda Alba at the Melbourne Theatre Company. I also need to find 15 minutes to do an online interview.

It's hard getting any enthusiasm for anything today.

I put it down to an average sleep which was had on the couch.

The bed should be dry enough to sleep in later tonight.

Nevertheless, I will persist.

Onwards.



Today's Song:

60 Days: The Hottie

It started out as a normal night. We went to bed together as we normally do.

But, my hottie split in the middle of the night. It was an extremely inconsiderate and bastard act. I don't think I'm very upset about this. What can you do? Hotties split. Good hotties are hard to find. I'm not sure that I want to go through the process of finding another.

Up until this time, I have loved my hottie through thick and thin. He's been there for me for years. He had his uses. He was good for soothing tired muscles and and keeping me warm well into the night. He was a comforting presence. Never obtrusive. Never needy.  He was always been the silent type. Good for coming out just before bed time, just as you need him to warm up the bed - just as all good hotties should.

Despite his outwardly daggy appearance and the knowledge that he's of a product of a bygone era, he's been my sleeping companion over winter for many years. Being of a certain age, I have little use for him in the warmer months and he was relegated to other parts of the flat during these times, only coming out if the need presents itself. He was great after the gym. Forgiving and understanding. My hottie had many and varied uses.

So last night, of all nights, my hottie splits, erupting in the most violent way possible, leaving me to sleep in a Pacific-sized wet patch, the likes I haven't seen since my twenties, back in the days when you sort of accepted that the price of a hottie was that you would inevitably get the wet patch on which you're expected to sleep.

Now, my hottie is gone. It was so sudden.

At first, I wasn't sure what was happening. The bed was cold and wet. And damp.

How dare he!

His mess extended through the bed linen and one two of my pillows.

This was so wrong! After years of sharing a bed with me, he goes and does this.

This is not the right way to break up with somebody. Where is his dignity? What sort of hottie does he think he is?

I managed to navigate to the edge of the bed, away from the mess that he left. Years of sleeping with a cat has meant I can take the 10% of the mattress on the edge and sleep quite soundly. I would deal with his explosive emissions in the morning. I was more peeved that my sleep had been disrupted.

A few hours later, I rose, bereft, angry and hurt that my hottie could leave me in such a fashion.

The bed was stripped of the damp linen. The pillows were placed near the heater to dry. The hairdryer was applied to the sodden mattress.

Like how do people manage with teenage sons? Seriously.

So my hottie is no more.

I've been told to replace him with a wheat bag, but I'm not quite there with that. I liked the texture of my old hottie. The smell of rubber is quite soothing. Besides, I had a wheat bag once. A mouse ate it.
I'm not sure a wheat bag can replace a hottie. They're not the same thing.

My hottie has gone.

I supposed I will find another. Hopefully he will be a bit more reliable and not leave me in the lurch like this.

And until the mattress dries, I'll be sleeping on the couch.

Oh, you did realise I was talking about my hot water bottle, didn't you?


Today's Song:

61 Days: Today's Earworm

I'm concentrating on happy memories today.

And I got an ear worm out of it.

See, my friend Glen Waverley is a most generous man. We've been friends for many years and although he now lives in the suburbs and we don't see each other as much, it is always lovely to catch up with him.

Glen Waverley is my old work husband from a company we worked at ten years ago. (I might have to dedicate another blog to the concept of work husbands. I collect them like other people collect takeaway menus in the third drawer down in the kitchen)

I should also say, Glen Waverley is happily married. His wife and I get on very well. Glen Waverley likes cats and he collects old Porsches, which he does up in his garage on weekends. And he used to have a sports car - and MX-5. He used to borrow my more sensible hatch back when it was time to take his cats to the vet.

One weekend, he took me for a drive in the MX-5 down the Great Ocean Road. I'd never been at the time and travelling the Great Ocean Road in a convertible is a great, if not rather cold way of doing this.

It was a lovely day. He wouldn't let me drive - mainly because I drive like a Nana and he drives like a lunatic. Well, he thinks I drive like a Nana. I think he drives like he stole the vehicle involved, but I don't feel unsafe. All of my Dutch friends appear to drive like this, Maybe they should stick to bicycles.

So on our lovely day, we drove out of Melbourne before dawn. We stopped for coffee and to put the car roof down at Torquay, then made our way to Apollo Bay for lunch.

Glen Waverley likes to make an entrance.

As we drove into this sleepy town centre, this song came on the stereo.

Glen Waverley, being Glen Waverley, and having something of a sense of humour, turned the stereo up to eleven, so this glorious melody was blaring out of the car at 100 decibels.

People stared at us.

I've not forgiven him - though we still laugh about it.

To get him back, I found him a leopard print snuggie.

Such is the extent of this friendship.

It's an awful song. The lyrics are worse.

But it makes me smile.


Today's Song:

62 Days: Brave

I'm trying to be brave. For the most part, I succeed.

Bravery is something I do. It's a matter of getting on with things, not thinking about things and putting one step in front of the other. I'm a good ex-Methodist. We do denial really well.

My type of bravery is minor. I look at there being many sorts of courage out there in the world. I think of my niece who battled leukaemia a few years ago - a fight she did not, could not win. I think about my sister, brother-in-law and niece who now live without her. I can't comprehend that sort of guts.

I'm watching as a school friend mourns the loss of her husband of 50 years. I can't comprehend what she's going through.

Another friend, for the first time in her working life, has been made redundant. She's finding new stores of courage as she navigate the joys of being redundant. It's a minefield.

I have to admit, I don't need too much courage to go out and find a job. Yes, I'm a bit crotchety, and I like to be left alone at this time  - as somebody found out at a meeting. "Please let me get on with the tasks at hand - this is way down on my list of priorities." This person didn't like this answer, but there you go. I'm looking after me first for the moment.

Work will sort itself out. It's a numbers and timing issue. It won't take too long.

I'm being brave about another matter.  I'm working with the axe wound. It's a matter of time.

Once again, one foot in front of the other. I have no control over the matter - just have to get on with things and let it run its course. I'm obfuscating for a reason. I don't know how this situation will play out, other than continue to play on my mind. I'm trying hard not to think about it all - though it's the first thing I think of when I wake in the morning and last thing I think about at night. But as I have no control over what is going to happen.

All I have is a feeling of inevitability. And no idea what will happen when the preordained occurs. When it occurs. If it occurs.

Who am I kidding. I'm not brave. It's a facade. I'm trying - that's all.

And I leave you with today's song. A gem from James Blunt (who knew). He sings about real bravery and courage.

I think I need some chocolate.


Today's Song:

63 Days: Things You Never Knew

I found out something on the weekend.

If you are offered a wheelchair access room in a hotel, DON'T take it unless you really need it.

Why?  There are a few reasons. In wheelchair access rooms, there is no glass. This is not a bad thing, but your bathroom will look like one found in a mental institution. A basin, but no area to put your washbag. A shower head. A plain toilet. Lots of bars around the place. None of this is a problem, but it feel a bit weird if you don't need it for the reason it was designed for.

More than likely, there won't be beside tables in the room either. Again, not a deal breaker, but where do you put your phone and your gin and tonic?

When I was told I was being given a wheelchair access room I thought nothing of it. Sure. If nobody with access requirements needed it, then no drama.

But the thing I never knew. In these wheelchair access rooms  - the water temperature an pressure. The water pressure is half that in a normal room - and the hottest the water will go is about 45 degrees. I'm just glad my hair didn't need washing yesterday.

I mentioned both of these features to the girl at the desk on the way out - the water pressure and the temperature. This low pressure, low temperature water feature was the law.

Who knew?

It took a bit of the fun out of staying in a hotel. Hey ho.

I was rather grateful that it wasn't that cold in Sydney on the weekend - and that my hot water service pumps out steaming hot water without fail.

Today's Song:

64 Days: The Runway Meme

I want to see how much of this I can get done before I have to leave my hotel room at 11 am.  I have forty minutes.

Questions, as alway, come from Bev at Sunday Stealing. (I like thsese, Bev)


1. Five ways to win your heart

1. Feed me
2. Talk to me
3. Cuddle me
4. Do some good in the world
5. Be kind to everything and everybody

2. Something you feel strongly about

That somebody really needs to debunk the myth that trickle down economics work. It's doing a heap of damage to the world and the sooner we get rid of it the better.

3. A book you love

Richard Flanagan's "The Narrow Road to the Deep North." It's incredible.  I also love Louis de Bernieres' "Captain Corelli's Mandolin",  Elizabeth Gilbert's "The Signature of All Things.", and "A Little Life."

4. Five pet peeves

1. Rude people
2. People who don't take off their backpacks in crowded trams.
3. People who don't replace the milk/toilet paper once it is all gone
4. People who talk in cinemas while the film is on
5. Pretty much anything the federal government is doing at the moment.

5. What you ate today

So far just a muesli bar and a cup of rooibos tea. I'll have breakfast before I go to the airport.

6. How important do you think education is?

It is the most important thing in the world. Never stop learning.

7. Five people you find attractive

1. Clive Owen
2. Harvey Specter / Gabriel Macht
3. Juliette Binoche
4. Ralph Fiennes (with the smooth edges knocked off)
5. That Aussie vet in England.He's lovely.

8. What you wore today

I'm wearing black jeans, a stripy jumper and my Harley Davidson motorcycle boots.

9. Something you always think “what if” about

Lachlan. Enough said.  Also what would have happened if I repeated year 12 and went on to do Law instead of just Arts.

10. Something you’re proud of

Finishing my Masters. Keeping to the food wanker plan.

11. Five items you lust after

1. Another pair of Harley Boots
2. An iPhoneX (Battery is going on my iPhone 6)
3. Forever on the hunt for the best red lipstick
4. A new laptop (this one has about six months left I reckon)
5. Walking boots for the Camino

12. Five words/phrases that make you laugh

1. When I grow up I want to be effluent.
2. Don't mind if I do. (When said on Suits)
3. Anthing said with a Kiwi accent containing the letter "I"
4. Every second sentence written by Fred Backman (The other half make me sob)
5. Here comes your father - when said in Henry V. 

13. A quote you try to live by

"Nevertheless, she persisted."

14. Something you like and dislike about yourself.

I like that I'm kind. I don't like that I can be silently judgmental - but I do try to keep my judgments to myself. I like my eyes. I don't like my tummy.

15. A problem that you have had

Not asking for a late check out on this hotel room - I've been rushed. And finding a song for today. Had to go to an old favorite.

Today's Song:

65 Days: Vivid

I am in Sydney.

What am I doing in Sydney? Don't ask questions to which you don't want answers. My stepdad found this out the hard way.

But I did get to see a bit of Vivid tonight - I was foraging for some dinner and ended up down Circular Quay and there was a couple of hundred thousand people with their kids in prams running around looking at the lights.

I have to say, though it's all pretty, I reckon that Melbourne's White Night smashes Vivid out of the park. Vivid is really cool and all, but I reckon, just from what I saw, that it lacks the "WOW" factor that White Night provides. Maybe it's because it's all concentrated into one night - and Melbourne is darker at night.

I did get a light wreath to go on my head at my birthday party later in the year. That was a highlight.
.
Regardless, it was fun mingling with the people with the prams. I lasted an hour before the people got a bit too much. Joys of being an introvert.

I found some dinner and made my way back to the hotel.

:

Today's Song:

66 Days: Moving On

I have WH Auden playing in my head.

Surely, I am not the only person who gets poetry stuck in my head? Or is this just a poets' thing?

It always perplexes me how these crusty Englishmen, like Philip Larkin and WH Auden can find these universal truths whilst residing in the dreaming spires of these auspicious universities, yet still be accessible.

But today, I have Auden playing in my head.

In particular, the last verse of "Oh tell me the truth about love."

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose? 
Will it knock on my door in the morning, 
Or tread in the bus on my toes? 
Will it come like a change in the weather? 
Will its greeting be courteous or rough? 
Will it alter my life altogether? 
O tell me the truth about love. 

I wrote about the axe wound I was dealt a few weeks ago. I think I was half-prepared for the tsunami of emotions I was feeling back then. In the weeks that have passed, I've calmed and righted myself, but there are some residual effects occurring. I feel a little haunted and hunted. There are passing waves of strange emotions that come and inhabit me in my quiet times. Quite often just as I'm going to sleep or on waking.

And I ask myself, "Why?"

I think the metaphorical wounds are harder to deal with than the literal and physical ones. At least when you're injured you can bandage up the area and give it time and space to heal. The soul, well my soul, doesn't seem to heal that easily. But it's getting there.

I've made the decision to move on. It's hard and easy at the same time. And I know I will be haunted again, but for the moment, I'm concentrating on the now and the positive, and that is seeing me through.

The axe wound has stopped weeping - but the scar is raw.

So, I pass from Auden to Edna St Vincent Millay  - another enigma. A feminist who write about love.
She gets it too. I wish I could write like that.

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, 
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain 
Under my head till morning; but the rain 
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh 
Upon the glass and listen for reply, 
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain 
For unremembered lads that not again 
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. 
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree, 
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, 
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: 
I cannot say what loves have come and gone, 
I only know that summer sang in me 
A little while, that in me sings no more. 

Today's Song:

67 Days: The Cherry Red Coat

Today is a day I look for blessings. It has to be that way. Rather than spiral down, we will be maintaining.

Why? Well the day didn't got off to the best start. The job I was hoping to be interviewed for I missed out on. So be it, something better will come my way and it is still early days. It's always and interesting time when you are in this twilight zone of finishing one job and finding another. It's all fine.

I'm also a bit glum because my desk mate is leaving today. Layla is cool. She's a trainee nurse who has been working part time as she studies, but we've been talking music, movies and plays for months. Layla's helped to keep me sane. I'll miss her.

Nevertheless, the green candles will keep burning.

In the words of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - DON'T PANIC!.

So I am counting my blessings.

Here we go. My blessings.

1. I am imminently employable.
2. I'm good at what I do.
3. I have lovely friends who love me.
4. My current team are awesome.
5. I can eat the fish special at a restaurant and it fits with my diet plan.
6. The naturopath has relented and I have got brown rice and gluten free bread back. Yessssss. 
7. I don't feel the cold.
8. Currently, I have enough on to be busy but not too much to be frantic.
9. I'm going away for the weekend.
10. I have no debt.
11. I have my health back.
12. My brain functions well.
13. A new season of Suits is coming in July (I love Harvey - if I ever get a cat I will call him Harvey cos more than likely he will be a most handsome boy but he'll be a bit of a douche)
14. I'm sleeping well at the moment. 
15. All my family are well.
16. I'm getting calls back for jobs.
17. My weight is continuing to drop - albeit a bit more slowly.
18. I should get a good tax return in August.
19. I can wear my motorcycle boots to work (at the moment)
20. I'm wearing my aunt's cherry red coat over a shortish skirt today - this always makes me feel good. 

I put the red coat on today instead of my regular red cardigan this morning. It used to belong to my aunt.

When I think about my aunt, I also count my blessings. She wasn't my aunt per se, rather my mother's best friend. She was around a lot when I was in my late teens and early 20s. She had a fraught life in so many ways. Suffering from chronic back pain, she managed to get on with things and live a full, mostly happy life. 

A horrific accident cut her life short five years ago. Brain damage is awful. Pneumonia took her in the end after a couple of months of hospitalisation. We all knew she would not be coming home after the accident. 

My uncle gave me her coat a while back. It was about two years after she died and he was slowly dispersing of her clothes The coat cherry red - not a colour that I would normally wear, but a colour that reminds me of her - and her bright cherry red lipstick that she always wore. The coat is my size. It's lightweight. It goes with a lot of my clothes - not a surprise as most of my clothes are black. 

I wear my cherry red coat with pride. I reminds me of my aunt, who if anything, taught me the value of resilience.

Onwards.


Today's Song:

68 Days: Movie Review - Ocean's 8

I'm not sure whether I'm fending off a virus, or whether it was the movie, but I found Ocean's 8 a lacklustre affair. Okay, I'd had a full on day, interviewing, gym, rushing around like a lunatic, when I got to the cinema for the 9 pm showing I was pretty wrecked. Making matters worse, the seats at the cinema recline right back, so you're all comfy and horizontal.

Okay, what I'm saying is I fell asleep in parts. Just enough to know I'd been asleep, but not enough to miss big chunks of the film - or so I'm told. My friend says I wasn't snoring.

This is not to say it's a bad film. Not at all, but of the Oceans films, it's a slightly different beast. I love a good caper movie and Steven Soderberg was the master of this. Under Gary Ross' direction, this came out just a touch stagnant. But it's not all bad. I think of this is what happens when an caper film is mixed with Sex and the City.

Rotten Tomatoes provides the following plot: Upon her release from prison, Debbie, the estranged sister of legendary conman Danny Ocean, puts together a team of unstoppable crooks to pull of the heist of the century. Their goal is New York City's annual Met Gala, and a necklace worth in excess of 150 million dollars.

And that is about it. What's different? Well the team are all women. In these #MeToo times, it's a great thing to see, even if there is some stereotyping of the characters. Sandra Bullock is great at playing hardened and plucky. Cate Blanchett has always had a bit of a penchant for skin tight black leather. Helena Bonham Carter is perfect as the loopy designer. Sarah Paulson is also good as the downtrodden housewife with a secret. Anne Hathaway does her doe-eyed best as the foil and patsy of the caper . Throw in Mindy Kaling, Rhianna and Awkwafina for some cultural variety and you have the inclusion and diversity ratios sorted. I was quite taken with Mindy Kaling's "Under the Mum" daughter in the Indian family business (Stereoyped, much?).

Ocean's 8 is good-looking and fun, but that's about it. It's slick and schmick, although some of the cliches and stereoptypes are a bit wearing.

It is also gorgeous to look at - with the costumes and sets far more varied than your normal Oceans caper movie.

You can look at Ocean's 8 in two ways. You can view it as a caper movie with woman, happily filling in the roles that George Clooney (Sandra Bullock is a great ringmaster), Brad Pitt (Cate Blanchett plays the shady one of the group) and Matt Damon (Sarah Paulson is the dodgy dealer in stolen goods). Add in a spurned love interest and you have it all.

If you're of a more generous nature you can look at the movie as a post #MeToo powerfest, with women showing that we can do it all for ourselves. The thing is, women have known this for centuries. We are tough, resiliant, funny and able. It's just taken the the movie industry over a century to realise this.

Ocean's 8 is good looking, lightweight fluff. You don't need much of a brain to understand it. There are some plot holes which wouldn't be out of place on a country road and it is a little typecast, but it has a night heart and it's definitely watchable.

Just don't get a late screening after a day of job interviews in a cinema with very comfortable seats. Although watchable, it's not engrossing.

Three and a Half Stars.


Today's Song: