Thursday, March 26, 2015

Zayn leaves One Direction

If you are a Directioner today goes down as one of the biggest days in the band's history. It was officially announced this morning that Zayn Malik, one fifth of 1D, has left the band.

Zayn Malik, SFS, Sydney 7 February 2015

I woke at 4 this morning and saw the news on Twitter. Should I wake Miss Bliss and tell her, I pondered for half a nanosecond. She's not good when she is tired so I figured it was better to let her sleep and then she could process the news at her normal waking time. It wasn't particularly pretty.

Poor Zayn, he wants to be a normal 22 year old. Not sure how he achieves that after almost five years with one of the most popular boy bands ever, but good luck to him.

As you experience life you realise that sometimes it takes more guts to leave than it does to stay in a  situation that is not working for you.

Miss Bliss and I saw 1D at the first concert of their One The Road Again tour, in Sydney on 7 February. It was fabulous and we loved them and Zayn was his shy retiring self. Few of us have to live with millions of people following our every move. He always seemed the most uncomfortable with the fame and attention.

Let's hope people give him space to be that normal 22 year old.


Monday, March 23, 2015

Art

I've had a big weekend of art. For the past two years I have been learning to paint with the wonderful Margaret Hadfield, in Canberra. Now I'm working towards having an exhibition. I sold two paintings last week, which was quite lovely.

On Saturday we painted an Icelandic waterfall. Margaret visited Iceland last year and she manages to take photographs of rather complex landscapes so she can teach us to paint them.





Sunday morning a group of her students went to Lake Burley Griffin and we painted the lake. Sitting outside and painting without having to make meals or wash up or do anything except paint was like meditating.

I'm not in love with my painting and it needs more work.





I sold one of my poppy watercolours and daisy acrylics last week, so I've done another poppy painting.

I love them. They are all for sale.

Monday, March 16, 2015

One of those days

I went to work today and I barely got my work done as so much more had come in while I was interstate on Thursday and Friday. So I got lots of stuff done, but none of the longer-term important tasks, just the short-term important tasks.




Then I had to take Mr C to an appointment, run into the supermarket to get all the things I forgot on the weekend, drive back to Miss B's school to collect her from the after school activity, pick up Mr C from his appointment, get milk and wine on the way home, keep working on my latest art, film Miss B's latest dance/exercise move, put on a load of washing, feed the cat, cook dinner, help Mr C with his music assignment, eat dinner, sit still for one minute.

Every time I sat down the oven beeped or the pressure cooker beeped or the washing machine beeped. Now I'm trying to relax. Phew.

(I'm watching MKR with Miss B. I really don't like this show and the two teams tonight are HOPELESS AT COOKING.)

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Things that peeve me

I have had a gutful. These are the things that are giving me an earache today.



Is this your car? You are a road bully.


* Bullies in Jeeps. Remember those ads where all sorts of lovely people declared to their truly beloved: "I bought a Jeep". Well in real life pricks bought Jeeps. Today I had a woman driving a Jeep two metres behind me. Never mind if a child had run on to the road and I'd have had to brake suddenly. This woman was in a Jeep and she owned the road. Then I went to the Fyshwick markets to buy some food and as I waiting at a T junction in the car park to make a right hand turn a man behind me in his Jeep beeped as he wanted to park his car and could not wait 20 seconds. That's because people who drive Jeeps are pricks, in my experience.

* Three-quarter length tights. Who thought these were a good idea to invent? Women everywhere in Canberra wear them and they look disgusting. No one looks attractive in clinging material. No one. Absolutely no one. Your camel toe does not need to be seen by the human eye. Ever.

* Small people who bring others down to their level. Oh don't get me started. Just let me commend the comments of a person close to me who said "Just remember Margot, 95% of people in the world are dickheads and the rest of us aren't. Keep remembering that and you will be OK."

* My ear. My ear is throbbing. This is a sign of stress. I am stressed.

* Entertainment reporters telling mothers how to live their lives. Get over yourself you old prick. Nobody cares what you think. Mothers are the best judges of what is best for their family, as are fathers.

If you are wondering why I am so cheesed off, please subscribe to Mystic Medusa as it is all in the planets. Big ending to a large passage in the next few weeks. Watch out world. I may turn from the world's nicest person to one who uses magic to reap karma on those who have been pricks to me.

All the love.

PS: To end on a happy note, my daughter has a new lunchbox and it is cool.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Magic stones

I went to my old house today, the one I own with AT and our names are on the Title Deed. Unencumbered. We own it.




In the back shed were a few boxes of stuff that had been stuffed full and left to fester. It was time to sort and purge.

It's been a week of purging. I had a physical purge on Wednesday when my body made me vomit out six months worth of angst. My beautiful 14 y o daughter was not surprised. She is the one who has noticed that this is what happens. Every six months or so I get really strung out and stressed and then there is a purge and all is well with the world again.

Weird way to live, but other people get cancer.

As I've got older I've realised I am incredibly sensitive to a full moon, some more than others. This one with its various planetary aspects had me close to the edge.

Today though was time to sort through boxes of letters and books, ornaments, fabrics, photographs (how many!!) and various other stuff. Two-thirds of it went into the purge pile. The rest I've brought home to sort through more carefully.

There are letters to me from my mother. My mother died long before the Internet existed. There is nothing but memories and things written down. There are no recordings of her playing the piano or even talking. There are no videos as they did not exist. There are two bags of music. I must read all of this before I can decide what goes.

I watched AT ditch a complete box full of his stuff and thought I need to be less sentimental. I am getting better at it. I figure I want to have edited my life before my death so my children don't have to spend too long clearing away stuff.

There is a bag full of my mother's family history including photographs and documents. Miss B's second name is Hannah and I have been telling her for years it is an old family name. Now she can see the connection.

The magic stones are in a George Jensen box. I love this Danish design house. I have no idea where the magic stones are from. Miss B asked me what they mean. "They mean magic," I said.

How does this girl explain me to her friends? I found a school report from Yr 10 where I had come in the top 3 in most subjects. I hated school but at least I did a bit of work. What was it for? To be a journalist in an industry that has been gutted? To be a single parent to two teenagers? Or to be a woman on the verge of finding her place in the world and achieving, over achieving what she is meant to achieve? (Although can I say having two interesting, intelligent and inquisitive children is a pretty good achievement).

I've seen two of my closest girlfriends in the past two days. These are women I have spent much time with in recent years. I love them for the way they support me and how they let me support them.

I didn't run off to online dating when AT and I split. I didn't need an instant boyfriend. I still don't. I meet lots of gorgeous people all the time. I love them all. But I don't want a companion for the sake of it.

Happy International Women's Day everyone. To those of us in Australia who are allowed to exercise free choice in who we love and spend time with and who we work for, well done. For those who are oppressed, disenfranchised, threatened, frightened or worse, let us all band together to make the world a better place. Women and Men.


Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Sick as

I've made myself sick, as in physically ill.

It happens once or twice a year when all the worry and the stress and pressure build up and the only way to release it is to be physically ill.

The day started OK with me going to work but as the morning went on I knew trouble was brewing.

My driver picked me up and I went home and was ill.

I hate that but taking to the bed for the afternoon seems to have worked.

Miss B is great at lounge lizarding. I've been trying to follow her lead.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Tough love

I did a painting at art on Saturday. I wasn't happy with it and kept reworking it. In the end I knew I couldn't change it.

My art teacher thought I was being way too hard on myself.

I was.

I'm not a perfectionist when it comes to anything - especially domestic chores - but I always want to be my best self when anything I produce is at stake, whether that is children, art, my writing, my work ... all of it.

I have no idea why I am like this.

I have always been serious. Too serious to play an angel in the school Nativity Play when I was 5. Too serious to work in an office where we were meant to leave our problems at the door and smile. Too serious for lots of stuff.

But life is serious. Yes I complain about injustice and half-arsed attempts at anything. What's wrong with that?

We are all different. I know I'm crap at keeping house, Excel spreadsheets, fake anything...but I'm good at lots of stuff.

My grandfather is 109 and has become something of a media star of late. As far as I can see he is just being himself. Telling the world to "keep your nose clean" and reassuring all and sundry that things will work out.

Technology has changed during his life but not much else has. If you are part of a family group you are blessed.

The secret to his long life? Waking up in the morning, having a shower, having breakfast and keeping moving. I follow this same philosophy, even on my dark days of depression.

It's better than the alternative.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Tribeless

I need a new tribe. You know how you have a group of friends/colleagues who take up your life and fill in the gaps and provide all the comfort and support you need...and then the rails fall off and life changes and you hunker down into survival mode.

Then you come up for air and realise that it would be nice to have people around you...as in actually living, breathing, not just at the end of the Internet, real live people.

That's what I need.

People. I have a beautiful extended network of friends and I love them all but only a handful live close. I have one particularly lovely friend who lives doors from me and we have wine and solve the problems of the world...but I need a tribe.

I'm not really sure how to make this happen, but what I have learnt in recent years is that whatever I put my mind to, things work out. So new tribe, here we come.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Silence is golden

Took the oldest to the doctor's yesterday. While we were in the waiting room a radio was on and I had to listen to five minutes worth of ads at full volume. This was a commercial station that I choose not to to listen to. I don't like ads and I don't particularly like listening to trashy 80s, 90s and 00s music.

So I asked the receptionist if she could turn the radio off. She was puzzled. It was the only station that was approved for broadcasting in the reception area. Perhaps then she could turn the volume down to one. Which she did.

My son was aghast. He told me I'm always complaining about things.

Well, yes I am. This lowest common denominator stuff drives me mad. Like the time I went to the bank to do serious banking and had to listen to the Bee Gees. I told the teller that banking was like church, it was serious business and no place for popular music.

No one else had a problem with it, she said. Well I did and I do. Why do we have to listen to crap music anywhere?

What is wrong with silence. Do people not understand that their brain needs time to replenish itself and not be bombarded with sh*t noise?

I worked at a magazine once and the designer wanted to play music in the office. I told them I would have to resign if they played music. Perhaps they could use headphones.

If I go into a shop and the music being played is too loud or too awful I turn around and walk out.

I love music and love listening to it, but not all day and not when I'm doing other stuff. Nor do I expect anyone else wants to listen to the music I like.

I'm trying to make everyone be their best self. Lift your game. Get out of the B league and strive to be  better. Make a difference to your world.