I have spent a good chunk of my adult life in airports.

I adore travel for business and leisure.  My beloved husband agreed to attend an EV and technology tradeshow in Berlin for my birthday this year.

Rather unfortunately, beloved husband had to stay back in New Zealand this week as he’s speaking at a conference and attending a very important meeting thing that I am not allowed to talk about.  (Eye roll)

ANYWAY!

I am footloose and fancy free for a couple of weeks in Europe.

I attended the IDTechEx show and met some wonderful people, and got to know three Kiwi colleagues a lot better over the days that we were hanging out together.  Very fond of all of them, and we all got a lot out of attending the conference.  Admittedly, one of the things I got was a massive hangover as I stayed out till 4:00am drinking on the eve of my Birthday. A couple of days later and I am feeling quite human again.

I am here at the Berlin Tegel airport, hours ahead of catching my flight to Amsertdam because I mistakenly thought I was booked on a star alliance flight and would therefore have lounge access.  WRONG.  I am flying with KLM and they are sky scanner not star alliance, so I am sitting here at a table in a crowded terminal catching up on Blog posts.  I’ll also be writing to the potentially soon to be ex-travel agent to inquire as to why I am not booked on star alliance.  I could have done all of this myself with less hassle.  Grrr.

The trip to the airport was fraught.  I don’t fully grasp the german rail ticket thing so the four single trip passes I bought when I landed (enough to get me to and from the airport I thought as I had to take one bus and one train each way) were not validated and no good.  I managed to score a nice shiny $60Euro ticket for fucking up something as simple as buying a train ticket.  Admittedly, it was all quite comical, as the German ticket collector fella was SO GERMAN and there was no way he was going to let me get away with this, even though it was obvious that I had made an earnest attempt to do the right thing and purchase the correct ticket.  He did, however, assure me that the German government probably won’t care enough to send me a ticket to New Zealand.  I guess we will see.

Shortly after receiving my nice big infringement notice, the train I was on stopped and we all had to get off and wait for a new train.  The new train was VASTLY overcrowded and I was squeezed into the carriage like a sardine.  There was a couple of other women, one who looked Chinese, and one who was Italian, trying to get to the airport.  They asked me for help.  I explained that I am probably not the right person to be asking, but I did know that we had to get the TXT bus from the station to get to the airport.

It was nice to make a short but real connection with some strangers, as I’ve become very acutely aware that I am very reliant on human interaction and connectedness.  I’m missing my husband and children, and I am missing my friends and workmates as well.

I won’t let this put a damper on the amazing opportunity to explore Europe and connect with some of our EV and green tech colleagues.  I am feeling pretty blessed and pretty deflated all at the same time.

So I’ll wrap this little whinge session up now I guess.  I’ll be boarding the plane in a little more than an hour, and until then I will try and catch up on some actual work.

Once I arrive in Amsterdam (my next stop) I think I will venture into the city and walk along the canals and maybe stop at a hash bar and read a book for a couple of hours.  Whether I can be bothered venturing out at all…

Better go and catch up on some other stuff.

Hope you are well, whatever you’re up to over the weekend ahead.

 

I do not know if it is the jet lag, or the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks, or maybe some sort of hallucination as I am on day four of a 500 calorie per day diet (mostly on purpose, but also because I am just too exhausted to be hungry).

But today, All my plans were reduced to dust and I ended up in one of my favourite places on earth.

I am here now, in a room in Hotel Muller where I have stayed twice before.  This is my fourth trip to the castle.  I always come alone, except once when I was here with my wonderful mother in law and Adam when he was in a front pack, just a baby of less than a year old.

I love this place.  It might be my Austrian blood, as I am predominantly Austrian thanks to my father being exceptionally German/Bavarian/Austrian/Czech or whatever he is.  It might just be my active imagination and huge heart.  I don’t care really what the reason is, but this place is one of those places that holds a special kind of magic for me.

I am in two minds about sharing it, because part of the magic was that few people took the pains to come here when I first started to visit.  Now, the place is always crawling with people.

I digress (as I am so often prone to do!)

While I was walking up to the castle, a familiar feeling washed over me.  I was angry at all the tourists and visitors for invading this sacred place.  I felt like somehow the eccentric genius, shrouded with mystery, King Ludwig was being defiled with their presence.  And of course I never think of Ludwig without thinking of Sissy… And that’s how today’s super wave of crazy inspiration began.

“This is NOT your fucking castle!” I felt like saying to anyone not showing an appropriate amount of reverence for this place. “Show some fucking respect!” I wanted to huff at the joke-cracking jackasses on my tour.

So that’s a wee look into my crazy for today, but the REALLY important thing is this:

There’s a book in me, and the chapters, the literary tools, the characters, the plot and the narrator have been invading my senses to the point I fear my heart and head might actually explode.

So here is the first little taste of the first chapter of the book I’ll give myself a year to finish.  Feel free to offer feedback.  This is first draft, zero edit, zero changes.  It kinda just flowed out of my fingers like words and laughter flow out of my mouth…

I’ll also share a few snaps of the day today…  Just because more people read my fucking blog if I include pictures.

OKAY!  Ready?  Here it is:

Soundtrack chapter one:

Enigma – return to innocence; Natalie Merchant – Wonder;  Propinquity (I’ve Just Begun to Care) – Michael Nesmith (1971); Something is Worrying Me – Otis Redding AND the MOST important song for the first chapter is: 

Wagner – ‘Parsifal’ – Act I Prelude

So it begins:

My name is Kathryn. With a K and a Y. Like the lubricant jelly.  I am not Kathy. Sometimes Kate. Most often Katie.

 

I’m the narrator for the story you’re settling in to read. I’ll be telling you this story from a second person omniscient perspective just to fuck with you and push the limits of your logic. Basically, what that means is I am intimately and completely immersed with, and entirely knowledgeable of all the characters and events you are about to get seriously fucking attached to as this story unfolds.

 

This story, or at least hundreds (if not thousands) of stories just like this have been told through the ages.  The only thing that sets this apart is that I can swear to you that every word is true, as queer and confusing as the story appears, it is all as real as you are.

 

What I can assure you as you go through these pages that lay before you, as yet undiscovered is this:

 

Love and passion are eternal and unbreakable. They are also powerful forces for harm or healing, and sometimes the love that filters down through our human experience gets steeped in tragedy unless the right kind of magic comes along to change the cycle.

 

Hate can also be a pretty powerful and unbreakable force, but that’ll become dreadfully clear in time as well.  And fuck hate.  Hate is not what I am here to convince you of.  It is destructive and cowardly.  I’m here to prove to you, once and for all, that true Love is immortal and eternal.  Time is not what you think it to be, and magic is a force far greater and more common than you can currently imagine.  

 

This is a story about Cecilia Maria Jamieson. One of the best bitches to ever walk this earth. It is a story about her lover Stephen, her husband Mark, Mark’s many lovers (one lover in particular being Mrs. Cassandra Church), and at least one incarnation of her life lived in the 21st century, to heal the hurt of the 19^th century tragedy she once endured.

 

If you’re already confused, you might want to trade this book in for some Fifty Shades of Grey smut; or perhaps even some self-help bullshit, because it only gets weirder as we delve into this delicious, destructive, inspiring and absolutely true story.

 

Before I acquaint you with the characters in this story, let me tell you a few things:

 

First, I regularly practice appalling language. Unlike the pristinely perfect protogaonist CeeCee, who wouldn’t say shit if her mouth was full of it.

 

You’ll see me slip in and out of story-teller mode, and you’ll notice me telling you about things I could not have witnessed because I was not there. Trust me when I tell you that every detail is accurate and honest.

 

Second, you’ll see that there’s a list of songs at the top of each chapter. You can play these while you read the chapter, on repeat or in the background. You can also listen to the songs after you’ve read the chapter and let it all sink in. You’ll get a taste of everything form Wagner to Black Sabbath throughout this story, so I am hopeful that this journey together will expand, not only your faith in magic, Love and reincarnation, but also your musical knowledge. If you don’t want to listen to the songs at any point, I give exactly zero fucks. But trust me when I say, the soundtrack for each chapter will have meaning and multiply your enjoyment if you just suck it up and trust me on this shit.

Shall we begin?

Okay… there’s heaps more but that is all anyone is going to see until it is finished.  Except Phteven and a few other mad keen reader friends and editors.  Good God I hope I can finish this, because it feels like it is going to be a very, VERY good story.

I might just be delirious from hunger and lack of sleep though, so please throw your feedback right at me if you have the time and inclination.

XXOO

Dee

 

I’m a pretty fucking lucky little princess.  I have health, wealth and I laugh loud and often with good friends.  Fights and disagreements are almost always swift and help me to evolve.  I am well fed, well loved, and (usually) well groomed.

I should be the happiest fat little pampered pussy cat on the planet.

Yet, somehow, I always feel like it is all going to end any moment.  Worse perhaps, I want to run screaming into the hills away from this idyllic life, career and family.

There’s a genuine psychological affliction called imposters syndrome.  I’ve taken the liberty of diagnosing myself with it.

There’s a good summary of imposters syndrome on Wikipedia, but I prefer the CalTech Website information, which you may expand upon by clicking, or is summed up with:

Impostor Syndrome

Impostor syndrome can be defined as a collection of feelings of inadequacy that persist even in face of information that indicates that the opposite is true. It is experienced internally as chronic self-doubt, and feelings of intellectual fraudulence.

You know what is really interesting about imposter syndrome? Women are extremely over-represented as suffering with it.

This pisses me off.

So why can’t we all just be proud of our achievements, no matter how great or small?  Why can’t we feel so confident in our skills and talents that our efficacy overflows and infects those around us with greatness?!?!

No matter how many times I hear positive things (and admittedly, I almost ALWAYS dig for any compliment I receive because I am very needy) I never believe that I have earned, or deserve any of the great stuff I am privy to.

I had an amazing marriage counsellor a few years ago, his name was Richard.  He saved my marriage when it was in very real danger of dissolving.  I’ll always remember one conversation with him about my intense and almost indulgent self-loathing.  The fact I feel grossly inadequate and generally like a fake or an intruder in the amazing social and professional circles I am lucky enough to frequent, means I need to assuage my middle-class guilt constantly.  The only thing that truly fills up my empty is doing shit for other people.  True story!  Like small things or large.  Smiling at strangers or moving heaven and earth to help someone or get behind a cause I feel is worthy.  Richard pondered this for a while.  A few weeks in fact.  And he came back to me with this:

“Dee, I’m not meant, in my professional capacity to encourage people to be actively self loathing… but, if it is the fuel that feeds all the good shit that you do, then have at it.”  or something very close to that at any rate.

There’s a down side to all of this needing to help people shit of course.  Phteven wanted me to mention that people walk all over me; like, a lot.  Sometimes my efforts to help are more of a hinderance.  Sometimes people hurt me because I am a very visible and easy target.  But when something good works, and when I find something useful to do that seems to help, my self hatred abates for long enough that I can think straight and keep carrying on with my crazy, busy, wonderful, life…

So now, I am sitting in the Koru Lounge, having finished a few reviews, written some overdue copy, talked to dozens of friends on several social media platforms, bought some noise cancelling headphones, and pondered how unbelievably lucky I am to be jetting off for a whirlwind adventure in Europe and the USA connecting with other Green Tech and EV enthusiasts.

I do not have any chance of understanding how I ended up with this life when most people struggle.  I will NEVER feel like I’ve earned any of it, and I will spend every day of my life trying to assuage the guilt and insecurity I feel because this is the life I lead.

I will, however, relish every amazing moment and grab every chance to enjoy and experience life with both fucking hands!

And maybe, just maybe, I can figure out how to STOP feeling like everyone in the whole world knows that I am just a loud, awkward, selfish, crazy, needy, over-the-top TRAIN WRECK!  If I am successful I promise I’ll share all my learnings, and help to encourage other women who I know are suffering from terrible imposters syndrome to overcome it as well.

I look at the people I know and see so much that I admire, and Love about them.  People who have their priorities right.  People who seem to walk the talk on sustainability and kindness so much more than I do.  People who never utter a bad word about anyone and bring so much joy and comfort to those lucky enough to know them.  And, I also know that many of these people who I so greatly admire, suffer from the same self-doubt as I do.  Especially the women.

So, if you’ve taken the time to read this, thank you.  And if you are one of the people I speak of with imposters syndrome… STOP IT!  You are amazing and WONDERFUL and POWERFUL and GREAT!

I wish I could hug all the self doubt right out of you… but I am just boarding my plane.

XXOO

Any day of the week you will hear me utter:

“Oh, will you look at all the many fucks I simply do not give!” with a sassy, energetic, sarcastic and generally highly animated delivery.

I had a moment today that made me realise that I’m fooling myself though.

That moment, was when I was traveling home to the house after running around getting Stephanie and Daniel’s shit together for sleepover parties, and picking up various bits and bobs before we hit the road.

It happened on the way home from the mall with James nearly falling asleep, and Steph finally seemingly human again after she’d been replaced by some screaming demon creature thing this afternoon.  There’s a guy, seems he might be a bit toothless, good tan on him, probably in his 60’s I’d say?  Anyway, he often sits at the corner up in Glenfield on the road back to our house, and he dances.  He has some headphones in, a tight 80’s jumpsuit and he just gives ‘er some shit and busts out moves for all to see as they trundle along Glenfield road.  THIS guy ACTUALLY gives zero fucks. I was pretty jealous for a while. But because I am often saying; comparison is the thief of joy, I decided not to be jealous.  He has his road I have mine.  But I have to say, there are some days that standing on a corner on a warm day and listening to good tunes while dancing however THE HELL I WANT TO would be a nicer prospect than the constant, heavy, anxiousness of feeling like I have so much more to do!

And then I got to thinking.  I say that I am done, or I’ll hang up my boxing gloves and get out of the ring.  Seems lately that I’ve done too many rounds fighting to be a decent person, acceptable parent, desirable and interesting woman and friend, above average wife, sustainability champion, boss, bosses wife, traveler, writer, daughter, and joyful participant and observer on the journey through life.  I beat myself up constantly because I should and could do more to be good, and end up dropping the ball so often.

I have fooled a lot of people into thinking that I don’t have any more fucks to give.  The truth is, I probably do.  I still get upset when people struggle and I watch them.  My instinct is to help, but 37 years of sticking my nose into other people’s trials and tribulations has taught me that for the most part, it is better if I let people figure their own stuff out.  I get upset at the news.  I get upset when things go wrong. I get upset when I hurt people by doing or not doing something.  I REALLY get upset when the kids are struggling or there’s issues at home.  I get upset when Grumpy is stressed and miserable to me.  I get upset that the planet is choking.  I get upset the the reefs are bleaching.  I get upset that children go hungry or unprotected or cared for.  I get upset that people do everything right but still fail.  I get upset that ignorance, fear and hatred feeds MORE ignorance, fear and hatred…

So.

I guess for someone who have away her last fuck, I am holding onto quite a few still.

Rather than just caring and feeling stink about the state of play, I do think the best thing myself, or anyone else can do is SOMETHING.  Yes, do something.  The heaviness of the bad stuff can crush you at any moment, but if you keep momentum it will not.

I’m not going to tell you what kind of something you should/could do.  Doing something can be like Yoga, the gym or a walk.  Or it could be planning a massive philanthropic visit to a far flung Nepalese village to teach family planning and distribute medical supplies.  It could be spending more time with your family.  It could be travel.  Meditation.  I ACTUALLY DO NOT GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU DO.  Just keep doing something.  Even if it is actively relaxing or getting some much needed rest.

If you are someone who knows me IRL and I have fooled  you into thinking that I am confident and have a clear direction or path that I am able to pursue without deviation or distraction, I am sorry.  You may hear me say I have no more fucks to give, but I do.  From the bottom of my heavy heart right now I do.  I give quite a few fucks and I’ll try very hard to keep doing something until I can see that something is getting done.

I hope you are able to find some somethings that you can care about and do the same.

XXOO

I got some EXCELLENT advice today.

Short backstory:  Feeling a bit sad and perhaps slightly defeated because mean/dishonest/greedy bullshit creeps in no matter how hard I try to be wary of such clusterfucks and avoid them.  So there’s that sprinkled with a healthy seasoning of “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished”as I feel the guilts build up while I shuffle responsibilities around so I can spend more time with my young family.

Anyway. Boring shit really.

The advice was this:

“When someone fucks you over, it is on them, you don’t have to wear that shit cause it’s heavy and you’ve got better things to do.”

A small kick in the teeth that was welcome beyond belief.

So here’s the thing.  People are people.  They are good, they are bad.  Some are just inherently bottom feeders that actively and knowingly do dumb shit like put money or power above kindness, community, integrity, or care.  They’ll have a woeful row to hoe though.  WOW, check that rhyme kids!  Didn’t even mean to do that.

Here’s an observation that I will share with you for free:

Good people are EVERYWHERE!  Acts of kindness, selflessness and integrity are happening all over the planet every single second, and, for the most part, none of this awesome gets shared or reported.  And yes, good people do dumb shit sometimes.  And sometimes they think or say evil or hurtful things out of fear or ignorance, but I honestly believe that MOST of the people walking around on the earth today are capable of strength and kindness above self-serving or short-sighted gain.

The few properly putrid wank-jockey-knob-end-loser-face-jerk-wipes that you run into in life are so busy climbing, covering their asses, bullying, bull-shitting and generally being repugnant on various levels, that they do not have ANY real time to feel true joy.

They do not have true friends, they have yes people.  They do not have respect, they foster fear.  They will not leave this world better than they found it, they will do damage and justify it to feed an empty that eats them up every moment of their very sad existence. The hell that they endure makes me genuinely sad for them when I am unfortunate enough to cross paths with them.

Not to put too fine a point on it or anything.

So I am blessed to know people who are conventionally rich beyond belief, and also as poor as gentle little church mice.  People can be happy and good with or without money.  Some people are rich and powerful beyond belief because they are consistently good, and smart, and honest. It is an honour to stand next to people like this.  It fills up your heart to work alongside them or hear their wisdom or even opinion on things.  They will go to sleep at night in all manner of beds, some on dirt floors or sleeping rough, others in 1000 thread count sheets, but I can assure you, they are blessed with a restful sleep far more often than those who harbour dastardly plans and agendas.

We can’t always steer clear of assholes in this life.  But we can ABSOLUTELY give what precious time we have to good people, who enrich our lives, share joy, are kind, and make those around them shine.

So fuck you mean people.  Except if you’re being mean because you’re lashing out due to stressful times etc, in that case, I forgive you entirely and my heart goes out to you.  But those consistently prickish plonkers… They can fuck right off for real.

Goodnight.

 

 

I’ve been working from the cardiology unit at the Auckland hospital today.

Mother in Law had a heart attack yesterday.  Not a little one, a big one.  She said it didn’t hurt.  That is exactly the kind of downplaying she does all the time.  She’s the toughest person I know.  Seriously, she’d outsmart, outlast and outplay that Bear guy who trundles off in the wilderness with his cameraman no fucking worries.

She’s resting and while she rests I work and when she wakes up I fuss about and annoy her.  Pretty much the same drill as most of our life.  We’re arguing a bit less than usual, because she hasn’t got much fight in her right now.  She is getting more forehead kisses than she’d ever let me bestow under normal circumstances as she’s weak as a kitten.

I Love my mother in law.  She calls a spade a spade, doesn’t bat an eyelid when I say fuck, and she’s the first to call bullshit on me or anyone else if she gets a whiff of it.

She’s very private, and wouldn’t be happy with me writing about her plight as it is, so I won’t give you any details.  Suffice to say, she’s unwell.  I believe that they will get to the bottom of everything and she’ll be fighting fit soon.

I actually can’t comprehend a world without her, as she’s been such a pillar of strength and a source of comfort and support for most of my adult life now.  We’ve travelled the world together and talked about her childhood on trains through Europe.  She’s complained and rolled her eyes at me through the organising of not one but two weddings (both to the same man, her younger son).  And goodness gracious we have played some cribbage.  I’d guess hundreds, if not thousands of hands of crib have passed between mother in law and me over the years.

So while I am sat here on blue plastic hospital chairs, not bothering to fight the tears that are rolling down my fat little face, I am aware that life carries on for absolutely everyone.

Jan, the spunky elderly lady from room one will be going home soon.  She misses her cat and her daughters.  She’s a good solid bogan chick and we’ve had a few great laughs.

Being in the hospital, I have glimpsed the devastation of life coming to an end, just through the corner of my eye in the tears of strangers in waiting rooms and in the corridors.

Every phone call since the event has carried genuine concern for me, mum, Grumpy and our family.  We can carry on and get down to business after stories of how awesome mum is get swapped, and comforting and encouraging words are dropped.

This is another reminder of how fucking ridiculously blessed I feel.  Blessed to be a part of a quirky family who rallied around and shared the news of mum’s illness across the globe in minutes flat.  Blessed to have a husband who knows what it is to Love a strong and independent woman, and also knows how to weather some fairly mind blowing life storms.  Blessed to be a part of a wonderful community of kind hearted and intelligent people.  Blessed to be working alongside doers.  Blessed to have scaffolding of friends, family, and even employees that will make sure the kids are cared for and kept up to date on their Nana.  Blessed to be sitting next to a woman who I Love and respect, and still able to continue working (albeit at a slower pace) on projects I Love.

So, if you’ve heard the news about Mum, she’s stable and hates being in the hospital.  If you’ve taken the time to read this, thank you very much, and if your mother in law is around, it might be nice to tell her you Love her.  I tell mine all the time.  Am confident I will have the chance to do so many, many, many more times yet.

 

 

 

 

This past fortnight there have been a surplus of inconceivable tragedies among people we Love and admire.

I am white knuckle praying for friends who are waiting to hear back on their five year old daughter’s biopsy.  I am speechless and clueless how best to help a kindred spirit as he holds a bedside vigil next to his soulmate.  They are the real deal, no less than Grumpy and I, and nobody knows if she will ever wake up and what life will be like if she does.

There’s more than enough trial and tragedy swirling around to fill several blogs, and I’ll spare you a list, but I wanted to talk about it because that’s what I do.  I also overshare with visuals, and right now I am feeling sad and vulnerable and lucky me, I was scrolling through looking for a picture of our roadster to send to my friend Danielle and I came across a prime example selfie to illustrate.

Sometimes, when shitty things happen, people cause irreparable hurt by trying to say the right thing.  I am absolutely guilty of this I have no doubt.  But I Love people… and I actually physically hurt for them when tragedy strikes.

No two people will need or want the same thing when they are kicked in the fucking head by tragedy or blindsided by life altering events.

I read a beautiful blog on a friend’s wall once.  She’s an intelligent young woman, caring for her mother with dementia.  She still finds time to Love and support all who are blessed enough to cross her path.  I think about this blog when the shit hits the fan for someone I Love, and seeing as I genuinely Love a tonne of people, I’m given plenty of opportunity to put it to use.

Here’s the thing.  Sometimes, there is just no reason for shitty things happening.  Saying there is kind of a dick move IMHO.  Stealing their thunder or saying you know how they feel, or forcing your spiritual beliefs hoping to help, robs the people struggling through the fucking trenches of life the right to be angry, to grieve, and to handle the situation however the fuck they need to.

So, today, I have to say the only thing I definitely know, is that I just don’t fucking know much.  I don’t know why good people get tested while sociopathic pricks sometimes seem to drift through life unscathed.  I do not know why sometimes it feels like you can handle anything and life is beautiful, and then there are days when you are forced to question everything that falls on your lap.  I do not know why cancer.  I do not know why poverty.  I do not know why greed.  I do not know why corruption.  I don’t know why rape.  I don’t know why misogyny. I don’t know why bullies. I do not know why so fucking much.

I do know this:

The sun will rise each day, if you are ready for it or want it to or not.

There will be moments of joy and pain.  There will be a lot of filler and waiting and hoping and nothing much at all going on.  And then there will be times when we are given a chance to do great things in a moment or with your whole fucking life.

Things will happen that make your heart want to jump out of your fucking chest and sing THE HILLS ARE ALIVE from some lofty Austrian mountain meadow.

And there will be times when you simply won’t want to breath another breath.

But we have to be here for all of it.

Love and strength to those of you shovelling through serious shit.  I have no idea what to say, or do, or how to help… but I promise I Love you and my heart breaks and my eyes won’t dry today thinking about you.

And to those of you having an upswing or feeling magic and joy… Embrace it, enjoy it and write it down somewhere if you can, because the joyful feeling will always come back, even if you are afraid you might never feel it again.

Have a good weekend.  And THANK YOU for reading.  I haven’t written for pleasure in weeks and I really needed to get this stuff out.

XXOO

Dee

 

 

A friend (Michelle) is a motivated fitness and nutrition expert wrote me a diet plan.  I need to print it out and start following it.  The issue is that the days are busy and the nights are exhausting so something as simple as printing and shopping to get started keeps falling int the too hard basket.  I’ll print it out while I am in at the office today…  I mean it this time!

MEANWHILE.  The Love of my life Phteven has informed me that we are also starting something called the 5:2 diet.

Here’s the link to the doco that got Grumpy all fired up to try this new diet for anyone who might be interested:

The basic premise has something to do with fasting twice a week to halve the amount of some nasty hormone that is released if you eat heaps of protein or something. In the coles notes version Grumpy imparted to me yesterday, he explained there’s a hormone that makes you fat, gives you cancer, causes diabetes.

According to the documentary I have not yet watched, there are little people who don’t make a lot of this bad hormone, and they live for aaaagggggeessss apparently.  Steve was explaining this all to me in the car and the kids overheard and chimed in with:  “Oh, Hobbits live for AGES!  Everyone knows that.” Cute kids.  They make me laugh, so I shall keep them a bit longer I suppose.

Okay.  Whatever.  I am in this marriage for better or worse so if he insists we do this thing I will give it a good honest varsity try.

For 5 days of the week I can eat WHATEVER I like.  However, I will be trying to stick to Michelle’s diet on these days.

On the fasting days, I am allowed no more than 500 calories.  Do you know how much food 500 calories is.  FUCK ALL.  That is the actual amount of food that you are able to eat before reaching 500 calories.

In REAL terms, fuck all food would be:  Four slices of bacon, or five bananas.  One cream cheese bagel or a frappe…

So I am currently tossing up if I should take a “before” picture today and then document the journey back to MILFdom.  Getting to be tight like a tiger is going to take some doing as I’ve successfully perfected the chubby mom-jean genie and for real frumpy thing lately.  And because I have no intention of staying this fat, I have not bought appropriate summer clothes for my current curvaceous self.

Sigh.  Okay, so here’s the “Before” shot from today.  I guess I have to wear the same outfit for the after shot and blow everyone away with my svelte self.

So that is me at 70kg.  I have no idea what it is in pounds, but for someone who is hobbit height such as myself, it is rather a lot.

So, bring on the starvation twice a week, and then hopefully some results as well.

Have a great day everyone.

Dee

When I was young, I knew so much.

Seriously, I was an expert on heaps of shit.  I was an expert on some music I liked and memorising lyrics and singing those songs with my friends.

I was an expert on how fucking fabulous I would be as a parent compared to my lame ass parents who kept me from being a social ninja (disclaimer:  no amount of parental intervention or lack thereof would have made me a social ninja as I was an overly emotional weirdo with social anxiety who always went WAY too far with shit).

I was definitely an expert on how I’d change the world once I won my first grammy and how fame would not change me and I would be the most gracious and caring saint of an adored celebrity.

I was an expert on how lame heaps of stuff was.  I was an expert on how fabulous some other shit was.  I probably had a functioning strategy for creating world peace, if ONLY SOMEONE WOULD FUCKING LISTEN TO ME!

So, I’m pretty old now and the strangest thing has happened.  I’ve realised, that I really, truly don’t know what the fuck is going on a good chunk of the time.

Seriously.  I have given birth to four fabulous humans.  They all seem to be simultaneously experiencing different difficult phases and in varying levels and degrees of distress and delinquency.  I read articles, actively seek advice, I enlist the help of experts to assist and support myself and the kids… All of this happens with differing degrees of success.  Occasionally, we have a major breakthrough and overcome an issue or behaviour or see confidence and resilience shine with dazzling intensity in one of the kids.  And whenever that happens, there seems to be no apparent rhyme, reason or rational to adequately offer me answers or a formula to how or what we did right by our babies.

In my working life, I will lose my mind with angst and intensity.  I will gnash my teeth, throw up my arms, heave my body and soul through the cosmos of creativity to develop a campaign or idea that I feel absolutely confident is going to change the course of humanity, and the idea ends up being a huge flop and I can’t even get budget sign off to give it wings.  In other instances, I will jot down an idea or two, make a couple of calls and then pull of an epically successful activation or event with far reaching (and reasonably accurate) social and traditional media coverage.

In personal relationships, I can have a solid stint of seven or more years with someone popping in and out of my life and us being able to celebrate our diversity and always pick up where we left of.  I am forgiven for being busy and missing important events because of work, travel and family commitments and we get to make the most of our time together and laugh and cry and carry on with a kind of beautiful and spiritual intensity that makes life worth living.  We EVEN like each others shit on Facebook and make hilarious public quips that will have any onlookers rolling in the aisles.  Then.  I get unfriended and my attempts to call or text are ignored.  (This happens VERY rarely cause most of my friends are AMAZING and patient and feel my many faults are worth hanging in there for the good times for)

So I’m just going to say it.  I often have no fucking clue what is going on.

All I do know is this:

In your heart of hearts and deep in your gut, you know when you are doing something shitty, or forgetting to do something really important.  So, Listen to your heart and your gut and use your brain to make good choices when choices must be made.

Be consistent.  Be kind.  Be authentic.  Be honest.  Take risks and totally take responsibility for the shit that you do.  Good and bad, own it.  Basically… most situations in life can be best handled by following this popular buddha meme:

All the other shit appears to be little more than a crap shoot.

I have zero magic formula for life, because we are all so different and the rules keep on changing all the time it seems.  Truth be told, I am having a bit of trouble shovelling through the shit in the big, creepy, badass barn that is my own journey, so I won’t go telling you how to feel or think or what you should or shouldn’t do.

So I am going to leave it there for tonight and go and do some work now because it is the right thing to do and the baby has just gone to sleep.

It felt fucking fabulous just to get that written down.  Feels even better when I think someone somewhere might read it and feel better for it, so, thank you for reading my disjointed thoughts…  I wish you strength, and Love, and heaps of peace and comfort if you’re in need of it.

XXOO