I turned 40 in 2008. As with many people, turning 40 was a big thing. At 39 all these cathartic things happened. I got a job I liked. I'd fallen in love. I'd lost a bit of weight. I'd made new friends. For the first time in my life I remember being pretty happy.
For my 40th, I had a party, which was great. I wasn't expecting presents, but said that if people wanted to get me something, a bead for my Pandora bracelet would be appreciated. This was before Pandora bracelets were de rigeur. I cherish that bracelet, now one of three, the beads received filled a full bracelet.
The other surprise on the day was the guys I worked with sent a hat around and I was presented with a voucher to go on a balloon ride. I'd made a joking reference to Glen Waverley that I'd love a balloon ride for my birthday. It's like going in and saying you'd love a Tiffany bracelet or trip to Paris or a pony. I'd never expect or demand such a gift. But as I'm learning , but it out there, you never know what might come back.
Serious wow factor. It was on my bucket list of things to do and the guys from the Integration Engineering Team at Tin Can, String and Whistle made it happen. Like the Pandora bracelet, it was a wonderful gift which I will cherish always. (Thinking about it, those boys really spoiled me over the three years I was there)
It took a few months to arrange, but on a crisp December morning, six weeks after the first attempt at taking the flight was aborted due to bad weather, three months after my birthday, I made my way to a local hotel in the week hour of the morning where a van took us out to the launch zone. As the sun came up, we unpacked the balloons, inflated them, climbed in the basket and went for the ride of my life.
It was one of those unforgetable experiences, silently floating over the city. After my initial nerves were quelled (as I said to the pilot, I have no problems going up - it was the thought of landing that scared the bejesus out of me) I really got into the whole experience. It was magic.
This photo was taken as we floated over the Melbourne CBD overlooking the strip between Lonsdale and Bourke Streets, overlooking the Fitzroy Gardens (that I walk through on the way to work). I can also see the tower blocks which I live behind, the brewery nearby, and tucked away, the building in which Tin Can, String and Whistle resides.
Seriously, the best birthday present I've ever received.
The only thing I would change about the whole experience is that I would have loved to have somebody to share the whole thing with.
One of the things that I love about my life is some of the interesting places I find myself with no warning.
This day was not so much a strange day or event, but it was unexpected in many ways.
This shot was taken in Christchurch, New Zealand, about four years ago. I was over the ditch visiting my friend Geetangeli and her husband and she took me along to a friend's Sangeet - a pre-wedding party for an Indian bride. Not one to say no to a party, complete with Indian sweets, I jumped at the chance, knowing only my friend and nobody else and knowing that there would be a feed of gulab jamuns at the end of it. Can't say no to gulab jamuns.
The party was held at this architectural wonder of a house high on the nearly cliff like hills outside of Christchurch. I wonder if the house was damaged in the recent earthquakes. I was standing at the house's entrance looking down a light trap - and this is what I saw. Cool, eh!
However, here I was, one of the few people at the party not in a sari or a salawar kameez, but I was made to feel very welcome.
The colours of India take my breath away. Even if we're in downtown Christchurch.
I remember a friend telling me how on coming to Melbourne that should couldn't believe how everybody wore black - there were so many wonderful colours out there to wear - why would they choose to wear dull old black all the time?
That comment has stuck with me and I do make and effort to wear colour now - even if it feels a bit strange to be out of the "Melbourne Uniform".
In 2010, I won two airline tickets to anywhere in the world through a competition at work. 100 words or fewer. What will the National Broadband Network do for our fair nation? Be creative. That was the instruction.
At the time I was working in a telecommunications company with a heap of engineers. I had to be in with a chance being the token airy-fairy-arty-fart and the engineers were well - engineers - the extroverts are the ones who look at your shoes when they talk to you.
My response to the competition can be found here. (I won another competition last night, but nothing as astounding as airline tickets - two movie passes for knowing that Bryce Courtney penned the tune of Louie the Fly (might be something about the comment that it was the only classic that he ever wrote that got me the tickets...)
Anyhoo...
One of the places that I found myself on this trip was Philadelphia in the United States. After a day in New York, swearing to come back so that I could enjoy the place without food poisoning,and after five great days with Reindert and Corazon in the relative gentility of Boston, I rocked up in Philly where my Aunt, Uncle and associated cousins live.
My uncle is my father's brother. He moved to the States over twenty-five years ago with his family. My uncle is a pilot and has a week on, week off schedule, so I was lucky to catch him when I was there. We spent my second day in Philly together having a look around the place and getting to know each other again. I remember my uncle taking me to the zoo when I was five years old, an my grandmother taking me out to the airport to see him fly around in his light planes. As he's lived most of my life in the states, we never got to spend much time together.
Regardless, on this day, we hung out - which was fabulous. We went to the Mutter Museum taking in the weird and wonderful exhibits, following which we went for a stroll around central Philadelphia. It seems my uncle and I have a similar fascination with the macabre.
I liked the streets of Philly with their rougher edge - a slight hint of danger, not knowing what was going to be found around the corner. It doesn't have the feel of apparent affluence found in New York and Boston. My family live in the Northern Suburbs near the New Jersey border which plays with the mind in oh so many ways. For this happy little vegemite it was a little confronting. I had landed in middle America, complete with shopping malls, pee wee football, mega-Churches, strip malls and Pro-Bush sensibilities.
Then you see things like this in the city. Downtown Philadelphia reminds me of the streets they showed on Sesame Street. Unexpected things coming out of basement windows. Red fire hydrants. People hanging about doing not very much. The recession has hit Philadelphia hard.
Of the photo. The juxtaposition of the slippers sitting outside a window appealed to me. Who put them there? Why were they there? How did they get out there? It wasn't like they were sitting outside an open window. Yet they appeared to belong there.
One of my favorite bloggers, the Plastic Mancunian did something like this with music last month. A blog post a day with one of his favorite songs.
Most bloggers will tell you that blogging daily is a really hard thing to do unless you have a theme, or something to talk about, or a soapbox to batter. Or as with this case, something to talk to.
So for the 29 days of February, I'm going to be posting a photo and writing a bit about what the photo means to me.
I'm not a photograher by any stretch of the imagination, but I have a reasonably good camera (a Canon ProShot) and an eye for the quietly absurd. I tend to take photos of things, rather than people. When I do take shots of people, I prefer them to be unstaged. Like the one below.
Today's photo is of my niece, Gee, taken a few years ago when she was four. It's my favorite photo of her. (And for the record, her mother has given her permission for me to post this)
I took a heap of photos for my sister when I was over one weekend - my brother in law was turning forty and she wanted to give him some family photos - so I took a series of shots of my sister, Gee and her sister Elle.
They were happy with the results.
Gee was a very sombre baby - exeptionally quiet and very cuddly. She was the child that stood back, in a corner, and watched everything. She didn't smile that much. She never said that much, leaving her big sister to do the talking. Gee used to follow her sister around like a shadow.
Then she turned four and things changed - and this vibrant, giggly, bouncy, fearless child came out of this sturdy four-year-old body. This incredible life force. We always knew that Gee was going to be fiercely intelligent - which she's proving now at school, but she's a good person too - like her sister.
This photo, captured mid-giggle, seems to capture all of this.
I skipped out of the Bastard Bank data centre at ten past five this afternoon, a spring in my step, the weight of the world off my shoulders, looking down the tree lined tram line into the future. Though I am going to miss the people - I met some great ones there. I'm not going to miss fogey radio over the loudspeaker, the previously monotonous work (which did get better after a bit) and the isolation of being just that little too far out of town.
It felt like bliss.
The other good thing to happen today - it appears I've got myself a contract, starting on Monday with a new consultancy. The paperwork is on it's way, but the job is there.
So what am I going to do with my time off? Slep in? Relax? Go away?
No such luck.For the next five days I want to achieve the following:
Finish editing that book.
Get on top of the Greek Travel page I've got on
Clean the flat
Put some crap on Ebay
Train for at least an hour a day
Have a massage on Saturday
Go go to Blarney's tenth birthday party (Blarney was born on 29 February - hence she's ten)
Have lunch with my old Tin Can, String and Whistle team
Have dinner with some mates
Dream group
Go to the consultancy Professional Development session.
Finish my current novel.
Read the book for book group next week.
That will do for a start.
So tomorrow morning, sleep in? No such luck. I'm off to Blarney's at the crack of dawn. One of the boys is in hospital with a virus (he will be fine, just has to stay in overnight, poor lamb). As luck has it, Blarney has a business commitment she has to make, Barney is staying at the hospital with Chance - so I'm off to take care of Lance and wait for the arrival of their grandfather, who's making a mercy dash from Tasmania to help out for a few days.
Tomorrow morning, I'm going to be looking after Lance for the morning, providing tubs of yogurt at regular intervals, pushing round trucks and reading books.
And being really honest, as much as I'd love a lie in, knowing I can help a friend feels good. If the shoe was on the other foot, I'm sure Blarney would do the same for me.
Well, at least it's something different - a change is as good as a holiday.
And this is a change with cat time attached - can't moan about that.
So it's with a few reservations that I'm heading back to Adelaide tomorrow morning.
Regular readers will know that my sister, affectionately referred to as Manhands, and I don't have the closest of relationships. It's not that we don't get or or like each other, it's just that we're completely at opposite ends of every spectrum know to man.
Politically we're opposite (she votes Liberal because they're the family party - I wouldn't piss on Tony Abbott if he was on fire, my politics being in a more socialist vein)
She did all the things you're supposed to do - get married, buy a house, live in the suburbs, have kids and a Golden Retriever and a mortgage - I've done none of that.
My sister's only been to New Zealand (family holiday when we were teenagers) Tahiti for her honeymoon and Bali for their tenth wedding anniversary. I've travelled the globe.
She didn't go to university or tertiary education - I did.
She had a boyfriend from when she was in first year high school and has always had a boyfriend/fiance/ husband - I never went that route never having a boyfriend for more than a few months at a time.
She's a blonde. I'm a brunette.
She doesn't read books. I do.
She doesn't go to movies or plays much at all. I do.
She's into things. I'm into experiences.
She got on with my parents as a teenager. I didn't.
The list goes on and on. Other than we talk with similar inflections in our speech and if you look at us, you can see similarities, we'd never be seen as sisters.
She's never been in my flat. She's never visited me - then again, I don't have kids and I've got disposable income so I can get away cheaply and easily. I tend to call her. I can't remember the last time she phoned for a chat.
To be honest, if we weren't sisters, we wouldn't know each other. Other than sharing parents we really don't have much in common.
I don't have any photos of us together - then again, very few people have photos of me. My sister is the one who's happy to be in front of the camera - I take the pictures.
There were a lot of disparities between the way my sister and I were treated by my parents, but that's water under the bridge - and I don't really feel like rehashing it. I've spent years in counselling over it. It's done with.
I've no idea what her favorite bands or music is. I'm pretty sure that she would say the same of me.
So it feels a bit strange that I'm travelling back to Adelaide to go to her fortieth birthday party. Mum's told me that we're going to be serving food and drink for the night.
Fun.
JD, my step-sister, will be coming for a bit, which is good - I'll have somebody to talk, even if it is only for a short time - JD and I know very few of my sister's friends, just as she knows very few of mine. When she came to my fortieth a few years ago she was very much a fish out of water. At least I have a job to do tomorrow night to keep me occupied.
Then later in the evening, my Mum and step-dad and my nieces will go back to Myponga for the night, then early-ish the next morning we'll return to Adelaide and then I'll board a plane back to home to Melbourne.
I know this is stiring stuff up in me - I just can't quite put my finger in what it is. I'm here with a very unusual glass of wine.
I think I will have another.
I just hope she has a lovely birthday.
Happy birthday, Manhands. xx
p.s. Why refer to my sister as Manhands? Well, she's my height, about the same size as me, but her hands are what appears to be double the size of mine. They're certainly not ugly, but she has big hands. And feet - which is a bonus as she can always find shoes on sale - being a standard size 8.5 (39 in European sizes) this never happens for me.
As is the tradition with me, it's a public holiday and on my facebook page I post random song lyrics. I could do random movie lines, but that would be just silly. Well, sillier than posting random song lyrics, but as I like this ritual, and I'm stuck in front of a computer for most of the day writing and editing, so it's a nice diversion. Some songs are a bit ear wormy. Some songs mean a lot to me. Some songs just come off my iPod and that's it. The only guarantee is that somewhere in the 24 hours there will be Pixies song mentioned.
So let's see what comes up this time round.
Wednesday 25/1/12, 22.43 p.m.
"Quesadillas made with cheese and a rock band who went Japanese."
"Ripe", Ben Lee
This some was discovered in the car when driving one day. A friend loaned me a Ben Lee CD and this was the last track on the album. I wanted to pull over and just listen. Still reckong Ben Lee is one of the most underated songwriters and performers to leave Australia.
January 26/1/12 ; 08.00 am
"You're so pretty when you're unfaithful to me."
"Bone Machine" The Pixies.
Ah, told you there would be a Pixies song in the mix. Bone Machine is one of there better mosh pit songs. I have memories of being among the mix up near the front of the stage with a group of other like minded late 30/early 40 somethings, howling the chorus, then going nuts in the coda.
I love the Pixies for their what I refer to as 'groin factor'. Their music gets to your kundalini and winds its way through you. It spurns you on to get into mischief. And getting into mischief is one of my favorite things.
The Pixies have always, and will always appeal to my very latent, unexercised wild creature. Love em.
9.35 am.
"There's a ghost in my lungs that sighs in my sleep."
"I'm Not Calling You a Liar" Florence + The Machine
Introduced to this band in the gym, there was something about the unusual lyrics and blended sound that got to me, so I bought the album on spec. One of my best purchases of last year.
This song is one of my favorites - Florence in a bit of downtime.
11.36 a.m.
"We'd like to know a bit about you for our files. We'd like to help you learn to help yourself."
"Mrs Robinson" Simon and Garfunkel
Always a standby for the car. Guaranteed to get you humming along, you can't go wrong with these guys.
I came to Simon and Garfunkel late - as my parent's music tastes ran to Bing Crosby and Hooked on Classics (remember those awful albums with Classical Music and an electronic drum beat - dire!) I bought their "Bookends" album on cassette on the back of the greatness that is Paul Simon's "Graceland" album - the latter which was played to death. Found out that they were the ones who penned 'Hazy Shade of Winter" - which I knew from The Bangles. Doh.
A song that you want to sing along to, but you probably only know a quarter of the lyrics. And then if you don't know the words you can just go, "do dee doo doo doo doo doo doh."
1.49 p.m.
"The Captain's name was Morgan, by heck he was a gorgon."
"The Good Ship Venus" aka "Frigging in the Rigging". Traditional but covered by the Sex Pistols and many, many rugby clubs.
I've got a reasonable repertoire of rugby songs tucked away in the back of my brain, joys of a mis-spent youth and a not particularly politically correct father. There was a tape of me aged about five singing "I'm glad that I'm an Australian, I'm glad that I am free, but I wish I was a little doggie, and Whitlam was a tree." Cheers, Dad. (If my father ever got wind that you more likely to get me using heroin than voting Liberal his ashes would be stirring in that ugly columbarium in which he rests.)
Still, I get a giggle out of this song, which I've been known to hum along on car trips, shock the pants off the lady freemasons and generally show that I'm not as nice a girl as people think I am.
Found this version of the song, which you CAN play with children in the room. It's the PC version of this very traditional song.
2.58
"I'm a lot like you so please, hello, I'm here, I'm waiting."
"El Scorcho" Weezer.
Another car song. I do a lot of singing in the car. I get caught a lot at the lights singing along to something or other that's pretty daggy. The best car songs are the ones which allow you to moan, yowl, scream and sing at the top of your lungs - and this song fits the bill pretty well. It never gets flicked to the next song on the iPods random shuffle - unlike the Arctic Monkeys...
17.15
"I could have been a common thief sitting in the dirt quite happily"
"Coin Laundry" - Lisa Mitchell
Possibly the only decent talent to come out of Australian Idol in eight years. I'm ready to strangle Guy Sebastian and Stan Walker as they're all that dag radio at work plays (along with a lot of Adele, who I used to like, but I can't stomach any more through over playing, and I want to garotte Beyonce and Rhianna...)
Lisa Mitchell probably never should have made it onto that stupid show. She's alternative, smart, savvy and she's got a wicked view on the world at a very young age. Her "Wonderland" album is fantastic - and this song is very ear wormy. Once this gets in my head I sing it for days.
5.27 p.m.
"Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah."
"Sexy and I Know It." LMFAO
This song is soooooo wrong on soooooo many levels. It's always on in the gym. Pinochet always sings along to it, normally when you're lugging round some heavy weight, which makes you want to clobber him more. Sometimes Pinochet even does the movements - which is just wrong. To me, it's just proof that boy bits should stay tucked away in underpants and only brought out when absolutely necessary and preferably in the dark.
I'm posting the Elmo version instead. Much better. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle....
8.31 p.m
"I was guessing at numbers and figures pulling the puzzles apart."
"The Scientist" Coldplay
I have a theory about Coldplay. Just like Aha, Spandau Ballet, Pat Benetar, Cold Chisel etc etc, in twenty years time their songs are going to be played over the tannoy on dag radio in the data centre of Bastard Bank.
Until that happens, I'm going to continue to enjoy Coldplay, because as soon as anything gets played over the loudspeaker at the Bastard Bank data centre, I automatically hate it. (Thankfully I only have three days left there... yay!)
I've always loved this song - just as I've always loved "Yellow" and quite a few more of their songs. Still not sure about their latest album, but it's growing on me.
9.41 p.m.
"Nothing can interfere with a dream of dreams so near"
"Man with a Gun" Jerry Harrison
This song brings memories of the late eighties, of a person that had to be left behind, of new love, of drunken nights on summer streets and the promise of more.
Jerry Harrison is ex-Talking Heads (another favorite band) Another song I find myself singing when I'm out running. It reminds me of good things. Of nice things. Of a person on a promise. Ah to be twenty again.
10.28 p.m.
"Gentleness, sobriety are rare in this society"
"An Englishman in New York" - Sting
This was my theme song for many years.
From 1993-1999 I lived in London, working for an now defunct international banking house, without a valid visa to my name. I was an illegal alien. However, as I have an "English" name, a varying English accent and I paid my taxes and national insurance, I got away with it. This was over ten years ago. I wouldn't do it again, but I have no regrets.
This song came on the radio regularly - it still comes on the radio quite often - and it reminds me of Liverpool Street Station and my time in London.
And I've always loved Sting and the Police - unlike Spandau Ballet, they haven't got banal and daggy over time.
Well there you go. Another public holiday, another round of random song lyrics to amuse, infuriate, stump and annoy.
