About a week ago Thea at“Do I Really Want To Blog” wrote about angels.
Today many of us have found a real world blogging angel and if you haven’t found her yet I am proud to introduce her to you – it is Josie of “Sleep is for the Weak”
Today she wrote about a brilliant way to keep those of us who are sad, depressed, anxious, not doing so well, and in general not woo hoo constantly safer in our online community, PLEASE, if you haven’t done so yet read thisblog.
But not only does she do this, oh no. In the short time I have known her Josie has written nothing but supportive replies not only to my blog but to every one I come accross, no matter what is going on in her ‘real’ life.
She is generous and kind to her friends and family, an amazing Mum, she is, quite simply an all round brilliant person.
So caring on twitter and in blog and just SUCH a talented writer.
She has also started thisnew venture for all of us budding authors after providing us with writing prompts for many months, come rain , hail, sun or Kai.
Thus I decided to make this award to say -
Thank You Josie, for being just you (thats how you do it, you know, there is nothing that I have written that you have to strive to live up to – it is all just what you do, even angels have sad days and rough times too)
Thank you – the first Blogging Angel.
*Thanks Tim Minchin for title inspiration*
found on Photobucket at celsealee
I have been reading in many other blogs of late about Twitter and its community feel and how everyone feels like they have found another family and how good it all is, and I even blogged here about that….
But then this feeling started – the everyone I follow and like has at least a hundred followers, if not up to five hundred and I have just under eighty. And followers – I love you all – please do not feel unappreciated, you guys MAKE my twitter experience, and I value and love you all.
But right now I am standing in the classroom of Blog School, and everyone has paired off and gone off into their little groups and I am left here on my own. People talk to me in passing, some know me, but I am not part of one of the cliques, not one of the popular blogs, and as much as my heart tells me I shouldn’t want to, DAMN it I want to be.
I have spent most of my life seeking approval in various ways and I suppose this lack of followers just feeds into it, and makes me question myself and my blog.
Do I not have a consistant enough theme? Am I too random? Do I write to much when I feel bad? Am I not quirky or creative enough? Am I not amusing enough frequently enough?
I think why this has struck me so hard as it come at a time where I am trying to fit into a new state, with new parents at a new school for my kids, in a class at a new acting school and I am questioning myself as a person as well.
I think it basically comes down to, I do not like myself, not myself inside – she’s quite a nice and decent person really, its the me on the outside, the me I show to the world.
And how do I know this? Because I am looking at other people and wanting to be them, to look like them.
I am looking at other peoples blogs and thinking, well maybe if MY blog was more like that then I’d have more followers.
I’m even looking at my tweets, the one place where I tend to censor me least and am thinking, maybe if my tweets were more like other peoples more people would follow me.
All in all a pathetic state of affairs. if for no other reason than it is making me spend a good forty five minuites working out what to wear every time I leave the house.
And I am considering a fringe quite seriously. To cover up the ‘patch of dirt’ on my forehead (its freckles all run together).DOC about a week ago said to me “oh, you have some dirt on your forehead” I didn’t. It doesn’t come off. Does wonders for the self esteem that.
So where to from here? Right now I feel quite bereft and lost. I used to be so happy with my little blog and twitter account and amazed by my 70-odd followers and now I’m sad that I’ve lost that feeling, and sad that I want more, it almost feels greedy.
Has anyone else felt any of this? Or am I alone here?
My own little pity party.
Bleh.
I know this is a stretch – I know – but these are the people that inspire me every day and I think that they are public figures, being in the blogging community and all…
You have all made my life better in even some small way, you have made a circle of friends for me that I have never had before and i will be eternally greatful for this.
Thank you for writing, for sharing your lives and for support in many, many different ways.
I’ve also listed people on here who I count as friends or inspiration because they are so like me and they make my life easier that way – just by existing…
so here, for my internet family, my inspiring comforting and honest family…
To those who simply inspire me – thank you – you are still part of my circle…
Josie – http://sleepisfortheweak.org.uk/
Thea – http://doireallywannablog.blogspot.com/
Gabfran – http://lawandshoes.wordpress.com/
Naomi – http://yardarm.sparkgfx.com
Kerri – http://lifeandothercrises.blogspot.com/
Emily – http://www.emlythestrange.wordpress.com/
The NDM – http://notdrowning.wordpress.com/
Camelshoes – http://www.camelshoes.blogspot.com/
Capital Mom – http://capitalmom.blogspot.com/
41 Baby Project – http://41babyproject.blogspot.com
Dad Who writes – http://dadwhowrites.wordpress.com/
Plus everyone my severely depleted brain has forgotten I know there are some if not many and will be adding to this list- I love you guys – Thank you for being in my circle…
And Thank you again Thea :) *HUGS*
I’m ill, in an "I can’t move unless it is rushing to the bathroom" kind of way and it is not fun.Also my stupid pre-paid internet cut me off before i had used my data limit…
But I have a good yet sad story to tell – names have been changed to protect the people who told me…
As many of you know i started at a new Acting school this week (exciting, exciting, nervous, nervous) and on orientation night I was seated next to Jess, an 18 yr old who had moved to Sydney also to do the course, who I had met at auditions for another school and we were chatting, then our voice teacher Emily joined us.
she is an amazing woman – travelled in India these holidays with her 2yr old and 5 yr old, has learnt in so many places, complimented my scar and suddenly i was telling her about my life, all of it, the bad stuff that had happened with medications, why i was here and she GOT it, she had been there too (this kind of thing means a lot to me – anyway) so poor Jess is sitting between us possibly terrified by the too crazy** women talking about their children and wondering what the HELL she was doing her when Emily asked us who are favorite actresses were…Jess said Jonny Depp – multiple oohs and Aaahs – I said Naomi Watts and also, even though it was very sad, Heath Ledger (he is and always will be). Thus we began talking about the tragedy of his death and the wonderfulness of his life…. Then Emily told us an amazing story, in a night of amazing stories.
She had met a rather famous actress who was currently over in LA fairly recently, calling her Amy, and Amy had told her this story.
Amy had known Heath Ledger quite well and she and some of his friends had gathered together for a dinner a few weeks after his death.
They had talked and reminisced and rejoiced his life and then his tattoo artist, who was there, began tattooing some people, they wanted something tangible to remember him by – there were butterflies, and doves and Amy (which was how the story had started – emily had asked about her tattoo) Had "I CANB’T GET YOU OUT OF MY HEAD" tatooed down her arm…
Emily asked why this to remind her of Heath.
and Amy said because that was the last text message he had sent her, spelling error thanks to predictive text.
And I think that THAT is the best tattoo exisiting in the world today. It will make her smile and cry and it is REAL.
I love acting school.
**crazy in the BEST way :)
I was in year seven. I was lonely and afraid in my big new bitchy private school, so I started spending ALL my time in the school library, even class time. In the end the librarians put me to work. My first job was covering books…so here is how I was taught to cover books by some lovely teachers who cared about a very lost and sad 12 year old girl…
1. Place book on contact with backing paper on.
2. Draw a ‘L’ at each outside corner of the book, and a line at the spine (from book to edge of contact.
3. Roll book accross contact to get spine width then repeat the ‘L’s and lines for other side.
4. Cut contact to marks, sloping on the parts that need to fold around the cover as, shown in diagram of "Cut Contact with Marks"
5. Pull back half of backing paper to just past the place for the spine.
6. Place spine on sticky contact then carefully "Roll" book onto sticky side of contact.
7. smooth out air bubbles.
8. Fold in the flaps around the back cover.
9. put all book on the covered cover, flat.
10, Carefully draw the backing paper off the remaining contact and as you do smooth it across the fron cover.
11. Smooth out bubbles.
12. Fold in the flaps around the front cover.
I am anticipating doing much of this next week and am not looking forward to it…
But at least it is here and may help a parent who has just ended up with 3/4 of the contact they purchased stuck to halp the book and half the carpet – as I sometimes do when I don’t follow "the method’ or just anyone who likes covering books for any reasons.
Here are the diagrams…( I hope)
May the sticky backed paper be with you…
-
- contact 1
-
- contact 2
This is one of those posts that is going to be confronting and full on, so if you want to read please do, if not I will understand…
Writing Workshop from
I am over the excuses
the falling through glass tables and doors
the nasty accident or simply accident prone…
The I ate a big breakfast or i have a stomach bug
I’m over the social form of the lie that makes me seem safer in your eyes.
I’m tired of the pidgeon hole
its way too full of pidgeon
and I’m not one, never was.
The patchwork life has drawn dancing down my arms
has kept me sane in the dark
brought me back to the real
the thoughts that rampage in my brain to give me some semblance of control
but that isn’t enough.
It takes a rare being to see past the stripes,
to look, and then see me,
not look and then away, far away
till you are gone.
particularly the not near my children look at school – that cuts deepest
look at my eyes, am I that fear provoking?
So I hide them and me because my past is part of me
but that doesn’t make me mad, or insane, or an emo or in love with the pain
it makes me safe and sane and here and
never changed the factor that I love as much as I hurt if not more
I hurt as much as I laugh
and I laugh as much as my life has tried to destroy me and not won
Assumtions make one foolish
you are missing the other parts – the important ones,
the mother, the friend, the joyful, the peace,
the listener, the friend, the happiest girl you may meet today,
the one who dances on benches to her mp3
the one who loves deeply and truely whenever she does and whatever she does,
all because of visible signs of not being ‘right’
not fitting in you box that is way too full of bird for me to breathe.
Okay it tried to be a poem and didn’t work – apologies…hope it is still readable.
Dear Blog,
I am so sorry that you have been so greatly neglected over the last few weeks. This has been due to many reasons – the main one being I haven’t had the internet to go to your homepage and do the blogs PROPERLY, I haven’t been able to add pretty pictures, and that would leave you underdressed, for this I am sorry.
During this time you have missed a couple of interesting events…First time ever to try and convince a very reluctant Super of building to call out a plumber on Australia Day as toilet was about to overflow – not our doing – but the amount he ranted about cost and how lucky we were to be signed into a twelve month lease so the owner couldn’t raise the rent to have a working toilet – surely they can’t do that, I’m in Sydney, not, I don’t know, an impoverished part of Africa… houses since the 1900’s have had toilets out the back and nightwatchmen..included in the rent I’m sure..but that Australia day i would have been happy to be back in a National Park with a composting toilet – and that takes a lot. (you know my low tolerance for ‘going bush’).
Another First : The invention of the ’skink game’ wehave no car, therefore have to walk everywhere, with a 8 yr old and 10 yr old in tow – this often takes 20 times longer than neccesary, especially when it is hot, as it is, in summer – thus I invented ‘the skink game" first child to spot 100 skinks gets an icy pole when we get home…everyone knows where we are now as the children barrel down the road shouting "SKINK" every two seconds and rendering the poor sleeping in the sun little lizards premeturely deaf – but it often gets us home, oh, five minuites earlier than if I hadn’t had the bright idea….
Another first – Bub 1 and Bub 2 started at their new school – their uniform combines the yellow of lines painted on the road and the blue of the Sydney bus company – we will not lose them in a crowd. Bub 1 had a brilliant day, Bub 2 not so good – but we shall see how second day goes tomorrow.
Another First – Along has come Chronic Fatigue Syndrome – leaving me exhausted, achey, headachey and nauseous – it is horrible and I don’t know how to cope.
And the final first – I started my much longed for acting course – I had orientation and got given FREE BOOKS – okay – I paid for them, but not when I was given them so they felt free – and everyone there is just so happy to be there – people have moved from Queensland and Far distant parts of the state to be there so it MUST be good, right?
But the biggest first of all? Living for almost a month (or so it feels) with no regular internet. I miss my tweeps, I miss my blog, I miss reading blogs and I hate watching the little graph count down my remaining internet time…get your act together N**Space – I paid you to transfer the internet and I’d like it NOW please – may be going slightly insane from deprivation..
.
So here for you my lovely waiting for me blog is a picture to make you pretty and a post because you have been neglected – lets hope it all shows up on the page…
because we have been seeing black and white butterflies and blue and black butterflies everywhere :)
Am also thinking I cannot call my Bub’s Bubs anymore – at 8 and 10 they just are not – very sad :( any alternate ideas welcome – am thinking "the Monkey" and "Willfull One" at the moment….
Sometimes
your head is so dark and tangled wool and glue mess
that there just isn’t space.
Sometimes
there is too much black to not balance out the white
in your world of no grey
Sometimes
the fear that you face, the horror you have seen
is all that can be in your head.
Sometimes
You just can’t see the rest of the world for
the tangled forest of nightmares in between you and it
and you know that
horror is happening everywhere
and you know that
somehow you should find the room in your broken heart to more than care
and you know that
there is a very strong limit on what you can handle and what you can do
sometimes
you switch of the news and avoid newspapers
because reality is terrifying
Sometimes
Your horror is the easier option because
humanity and our responses are just so lacking in every way
Sometimes
the blind ignorance you put in place
is the only thing that will make you stay sane
your rose coloured world because..
How can we be so blind when there are so many people in pain and dying
How can we not help, not do, not assist in every way
How do we function as creatures in a world we are killing
with people we know are getting more damaged each day
So in my rose coloured world I will stay
with its black and white and tangled nights of nightmares past
because i can’t fix it
this world we’ve broken
and that breaks me more
than reading and seeing and able to do nothing.
**NB please excuse typos and unformatting am doing this via email and am unused to it**The Move where it all went wrong…
The flat has red carpet, red dark rose patterned carpet. It has three tables covered in red cloths with a large pale pink vase of fake flowers in the middle of the ‘coffee table’ and a gold swirly lamp thing
on the smaller one. All the windows have net curtains – lounge- orange swirls, kitchen with duck, my room pink with black scroll pattern.
In addition none of the fixtures and fittings have changed since the 70’s, or maybe 60’s.
except the stove, for which I am grateful.
It has sliding doors which I like in a flat.
But, the windows have fly wire and there is a body corporate manager who rules with an iron list (washing only to be hung out on Monday for this flat), Letter today about washing hung
out the window of flat 4 – A very big no-no – but they are taking this as a signal that more clothesline is needed, and the communal areas are very clean so i kind of like it – as long as I don’t get in trouble…
It started with the planning, or lack thereof and the underestimation of the amount of STUFF that two children can accumulate.
See I made the mistake of assuming it was only the things that I saw and that they played with they owned.
HA! Oooh no. There is also the treasure troves of things much much too precious to be thrown out that have been hidden at the bottoms of boxes, under beds or at the back of wardrobes..
things like the littlest pet shop brush for the toy with no fur.
Or the train set which has not been played with all year.
Or the encyclopaedia with one paragraph on a very strange selection of topics.
And that is where the two days of bargaining starts – the if we get rid of this i will buy you a battery for you tamogotchi (even though I know you won’t play with it and watch batteries are fifteen dollars)
And that was the just the first two days..
Actually, I suppose it really started with the ad on Gumtree.
The Ad for the reasonably priced flat, that when it was called about was larger than stated.
That although it had red carpet in the ad, we were sure they told our friend who inspected it would have new carpet.
The flat that we had to be in Sydney in ONE WEEK to sign the papers for.
And that seemed like such a good idea – a flat in an area we had looked in for schools etc.
A solid place to start a new life instead of a hotel.
So a whirlwind week of packing and sending ( I still maintain that when you have one pantry to pack a kitchen should not take 24 hrs to pack) via nice removalists (they were the best bit), it is thanks to them I am sitting on a futon mattress not an airbed.
Of the donation truck that had been organised to pick up many items and much furniture but said it had been sent for two boxes and two bags.
A week where the CAT cost more to get here (by $200) than we did – all 4 of us.
A week where we rushed around like silly people trying to get too much stuff into storage in too little time.
A week where I was ill, kids were anxious and angry.
A week of farewells and bon voyages and tears for my Melbourne that I love but just reminds me of so much sad in so many suburbs and i can’t just stick to those it doesn’t anymore.
So here we are and its been 4 days of rushing to meet the landlord, of rushing to meet rental appliances, of plumbers ‘rushing’ ( i use this term lightly) to our flat to fix a broken toilet.
4 days of being asked if we are SURE we haven’t flushed anything else down the toilet (yes, we are, no not the cardboard in the roll and no toys, Bub 1 and 2 waay too old for that, its been like it since we arrived)
And the Plumber comes back tomorrow to fix the toilet AGAIN.
Coupled with this I have had gastro something plus severe exhaustion – walk three steps collapse, stay awake for an hour,, need sleep – timing is not good- fear it is anxiety and new water (similar things happened when I moved to Perth I have a dodgy stomach) so am hoping bottled water and rest will help.
Also I have very little internet on my pre paid stick thing that I am eeking out – missing my twitter and blog friends dreadfully.
Its also been a week of true people in my life – of well wishes on twitter, of discovering what you really mean to someone when you ask huge favours (like will you put my cat on a plane and remove all large furniture left in house and it actually happens – that means a lot to me) as opposed to those to busy
to even send an email *coughparentwingecough*
There will be photos forthcoming of this kitch new home. And its transformation.
As Bub 2 said last night, it isn’t hawthorn and its smaller, but I like it and its home now.
And there will be updates on the state of the toilet – nothing worse in a house with children than a broken toilet except, oh, did I mention NO INTERNET FOR TWO WEEKS and NO TV…
Who’s bright idea was that eh..oh yeah, teach them to play my arse – teach them to flop around and argue and say I’m bored in fifteen different tones..
But still – what a week it has been.
And i could end with something like it can only get better from here – except if i do it will undoubtedly get worse…superstitious – me – never…
A week ago I was ill, lying in bed and trying to get to sleep while watching "Looking for Alibrandi" – a book I love and also a movie I love.I have moved into what Josie’s Nonnas house would look like if it was a flat.
And I kind of like it.
The red carpet will get wearing after a while, as will the orange striped net curtains, and the giant fake wooden wardrobe and the vase of plastic flowers has to go.
But, I’m here. I’m in Sydney. I’m trying to get everything set up and failing in my exhaustion.
I need a day off.
Another day to lie on the couch – watch ‘Looking for Alibrandi’ and remember why I’m here.
I also need internet, not surviving on this tail end of my prepaid – terrified I’ll run out this second, no this one…but that will take a month judging by last time…
But yes, I am here, I will check twitter when I am able (not often in the next couple of weeks), in the meantime – I made it, I am thinking of you all and sending hugs and thoughts.
And I miss my writing workshop :(
Now back to see what i can replace the net curtains with….
