Hindsight is a wonderful thing

Last night I walked though the city after the Christmas party which I attended for my market job. There was a sprinkle of light rain coming down and it felt strange wearing a coat at the start of summer but I relished the feeling of the drops of water as they hit my face. I could feel the crispness of the fresh air and it was actually a nice night to be walking even though it was almost midnight.

As I walked I started to reflect on my year and the constant battle that was being fought in my head continued, should I stay in Sydney or should I go to home to Melbourne. I have been swinging different ways every single day, one day I am staying, the next I am leaving.

There were a few other things on my mind last night all of which are relevant to the battle and more so to the root of my search for myself and the growth of myself as a responsible, and independent person.

Last night was the night that a film friend back home in Melbourne had his Made In Melbourne film festival, as he has for the last two years. I thought about how desperately I wanted to be there for the opening night and how amazing it would have been seeing my film buddies, the people I had spent a lot of time with over the years on and off film sets. I was part of the crew yet now I felt so out of the loop, because well I am.

When I was in Melbourne last for Samantha's funeral my friend and I hung out and we talked a lot. He did invite me to this event and I can't remember what I replied. I probably said "I will see". You see, I have become a "maybe" and a "I will see" kinda girl the last year and it is not till now that it has miraculously hit me that I am losing myself to a life I do not care for. I hate my second job, it is pointless and the hours mean I have no time to go home to an early dinner, let alone hold a social life. My market job is restricting me also from enjoying the summer getting out there and mingling with new people, I have cancelled so many meet ups with so many groups since I joined the site Meet Ups. I haven't been free to attend anything yet, I have been working both days over the weekends.

The dinner I was attending that night was set for 7pm, I got there at 8.30pm due to work, which I got held up at. This is my point exactly, I am living a life that is not me and it is heading the wrong way, like a plane being flown on auto pilot, that is how I feel.

Yesterday was the day that I realised that I have been missing out on taking trips to Melbourne to visit family and friends for birthdays, special occasions and events such as Made In Melbourne, which are all one offs.  I will not be home for Christmas or New Years this year. No I am not staying here to rage on in the city at some wild party with friends ( I have only a small group of friends in Sydney) the reason I am staying in Sydney for these special days while everyone else has friends and family close,  is to work at the markets.

I am doing so that I can make money to keep myself alive and pay my rent in January when the nut shop job is closed for a month due to a re-furb. I also have a trip to Byron I must fund in January and I have bills and rent that needs paying. This is now my new goal , save and work. This is why I didn't book a ticket down to be with my crew and this is why I will be alone and miserable come the holiday season.

Another thing that dawned on me yesterday is the fact that I haven't been on a film set since the start of the year, I can't remember the last time really, it has been too long. The reason for this is the same, I work weekends when they are mostly filmed and during the week which is when I work the days set out for me by my boss, I didn't allocate my "available" days, I just do whatI am given.

What I have learnt from these missed opportunities is that I need to be more assertive at work. If I can't work I cant work, I shouldn't organise what I want to do with my spare time with my boss, I should be assertive enough to say, I will be away from this day to this day, replace me please! At least I know what I need to work on.

I also realised that I need to spend more time on myself and more time with loved ones. This all stems back to the job choices I have made but having said that, I have the choice to leave. If I worked full time I could afford to take regular trips to Melbourne on the weekend and I also wouldn't be working all weekend at the markets. I could actually have a life too and get back to my Yoga practise which I have been leaving behind amongst other hobbies I no longer participate in.

You could say that I have worked out my New Years Resolution already. We all know that we never stick to these resolutions but I plan to because as a wise friend used to always say to me, "hindsight is a wonderful thing".

In the movies

In the movies, the romantic comedies to be exact the single women is protrayed to be somewhat unsure of what she wants from a guy, desperately seeking one and mostly awkward when around one. That is unless you watch Sex in the City. Those women although they sometimes get into weird situations , they mostly have the power, are successful individuals and are enjoying living in the city. Then again, they are not all single.

What I am getting at with this is that I am single and living right in the heart of the excitement, on my own and in my own place. This is my second night in Paddington and the only excitement I have had is happening right now as Eminem is playing at the sports stadiuem down the road. I guess that if I actually get out of my studio room I would actually discover a whole new world.

I have been living in Sydney for a year now and I don't feel that I have actually lived as I have been in the suburbs with families for neighbours but I must say I am missing the mornings at the beach, running on the sand followed by a swim afterwards.  I also miss my clean bathroom and my huge kitchen space, mostly my oven!

Living here now, I will be meeting more people and the right kind of people and I hope that I don't become one of those girls I mentioned from the romantic comedies. What am I saying, it is too late as I do get all stupid just like that chick in the movie "He is just not that into you". I swear that that charcter reacts the same way as I do when I'm seeing a guy, howver that is another blog post entirly.We can't follow those American films anyhow, right? If we did we would belive that teenagers went to school in minis and heels like the girls in Mean Girls. What a load of bull.

Anyway, all I know is that once I get off my behind and unpack everything and find every little item a home I will be settled and ready to discover my new surroundings. This change I know will influence the desicion I make of wheater I stay on in Sydney a little longer or if I leave after returning from my trip from Byron Bay. I am waiting to see if my feeling towards Sydney will change.

Today I went back to the old place to collect more of my things and I collapsed on the floor from being so overwhelmed by the stress of everything (mostly my mind numbing jobs which have been holding me back socially due to the hours and days I work) that I had one of those "I should have just went home" moments again which I have been having on a weekly basis lately since my life has been collapsing around me like smashed lego.

I called my mum in a hysterical fit and ranted on about what I would do on my arrival back to Melbourne. When I thought about it I really didn't know what I would do on my arrival. Where will I work, who will I be?

Not to worry, for now I just have to get by best I can, try and find new jobs so that I can live that Sex In The City lifestyle portrayed on the screen. Doubt it, like I said before, its all a load of bullshit. I do however want to enjoy my time in Sydney so that I don't look back at these times with bitter memories, not that I have bitter memories of Dan, just everything else like work and the opportunities I have missed due to working weekends and late nights during the week.

How I am going to do this will all make sense when my head is clear and more then anything I am just hoping that everything will fall into place and I will have my happy ending, just like in the movies.

Packing my life into boxes

It may be day three days or so now that I have been living alone in the apartment that I once shared with my ex and best friend of two years, Daniel . Who's counting anyway? Me of course.

Counting the days is not something I am doing because I am melancholy about the situation as it stands but more counting the days so that the chaos and waiting to start the next chapter of my life will be over soon. In a few days I will have my own little place to call home, and nobody to come home to.

On Sunday I worked during the day and I knew that Dan would be cleaning up and taking what he needed out of the apartment. I was quite aware that I would come home and all would be different. No more ABC radio blaring when I returned from work and the sound of speedway car videos playing on you tube will not be heard and no more Mittens tripping me over when she wants to eat in the mornings. No more long chats, no more feeling comfortable and certainly no more 'us', as a couple anyway.

Coming home after a killer of a day and not having your best friend of 2 years standing there to great you and coming home to find no furniture really sends you back down to earth and tells you that it is really happening. I wake up off the floor ( I am currently sleeping on a body pillow as I have no bed) and it becomes real again. It is just little me with my big dreams trying to make my way in a city which I am not sure I am fond of.

Even after we broke up, and continued living together, it felt like we were still a couple, just without the stuff couples do, the sexual and physical stuff. Now that Dan is finally removed from my everyday life it is starting to sink in, we are no longer together, just friends. Officially.

Now as I pack my life into boxes ready for my next move I reflect on what was and I smile, it was good but I look forward to moving on and starting again, for the 5th time in my life. But who is counting, not me. I don't have time to count, I am too busy packing my life into boxes!

Why cry when you can laugh at yourself

Every time I think that I am enjoying my new single life in Sydney, I get another major setback.

This morning I woke up remembering a dream I just had about my dear friend Samantha who passed away a couple of months ago. It was the first dream I have had of her since she passed, it was not a deep meaningful dream, just a dream where she appeared not in body I think but she was carrying on about some football memorabilia she had collected and she was showing me and her family.

Anyway, the details of the dream are not important. What is important is the fact that I woke from the dream a little confused but then it dawned on me, I must get up out of bed today and think differently.

I woke up, had breakfast and checked emails. I received a positive email from an agency that covers film and TV work so I was pretty happy about that, called them up and spoke to them. All good and seems like it may do me good.  I was on a high and I was thinking about how grateful I was to be alive so I texted two of my girlfriends a happy and positive message telling them I love them and miss them and that I will see them soon.

Finally after a long couple of months of being unsure about things I was looking at the positives. I am even planning of cancelling my career counselling session and working on this film career I have been dreaming of since forever.  I was just about to do that when I received a phone call from Daniel.

Daniel had been out to pick up the mail in Glebe (long annoying story right there), as he does every Friday morning without fail. So, I get this call from Daniel and he tells me that my car he was driving has been smashed up by a truck. From my experience with family and friends being involved in and dying in car accidents my first thought was I hope he is ok and then I asked him “you are joking, right?” He has pulled this stunt before, where he calls up and tells me something silly and then says it’s a joke. This time he was serious and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

My life, more like my year since being in Sydney has been one crazy situation after the other. Including some sad situations like the passing of a friend back home, realizing that you no longer love the person you are living with and have been with for two years. Then the setbacks like having no money, being stuck in a life draining job and having nowhere to live and not knowing where you will be the day after the present.

This may sound silly but I have come to the point in my life where when getting a phone call such as the one I just received today from Daniel about the car was a laughing matter, (once I knew he was ok of course).

So much shit has happened in my life that the only way I can now deal with it without turning to drugs or alcohol or even self harm (as I see no point to these alternatives) is to write about it and get it off my chest but even better than that, I laugh about it and make a joke of it.

I have always been the sort of person who laughs at situations no matter how bad it is (except for death of course, I never laugh or joke about death). My boyfriends cheat on me, no problems I have a joke for it. I have no money, no worries I can joke about selling my body on the streets or conger up funny situations I could put myself in to get extra cash. I have always dealt with things this way but more so the last year and a bit my way of thinking and dealing have changed. I have become so resilient and thick skinned and once you get to my age you really do stop looking at little setbacks so seriously.

Dan and I once went to a comedy gig in Sydney and a middle aged female comedian took to the stage. She was average weight and I remember she was wearing leggings (which gave her a small camel toe) with high heels , had saggy breasts and she looked like she was trying hard to dress well without a clue but she looked quite amusing.  I can’t remember her name but she was such a good story teller who gave a no holds bar run though of her life in a cynical, sarcastic and stupidly funny way. She picked at everything that had happened to her in her life and she took the Mickey out of herself quite well. Dan and I were in tears throughout her routine and when she left the stage I said to Dan, “If I had the balls to get up on stage I would so do that, give my ten more years and I may be cynical enough and not give a shit about what people think. That is me in 10 years I reckon.”

Like most things that I say and don’t follow through with, this is one of them. I am becoming tougher since living in Sydney and although it has made me bitterer at least I can still laugh at myself and that is better than crying about how much life sucks.

Five steps forward, two steps back

A couple of nights ago I had plans to meet Daniel for dinner; meeting point was Town Hall station. My car had been parked at Redfern Station  ( due to a meeting I will explain later) and when I went to buy a ticket I was just over a dollar short, pricey just for two stops also so I decided to walk all the way.

It was a rainy night but it had just started to fall so it was quite bearable. I made my way down George Street without an umbrella and I relished the feeling of the cool sprinkles as they landed on my skin, one after the other. They slowly built up, till they started to become more visible as wet patches on my clothes.

As I walked I noticed how many foreign owned businesses I was passing, one after the other. They were full of foreign made products and of course these businesses were catering to foreign people and you could see them in there shopping.  I could not imagine an Australian citizen would want to visit those stores let alone buy anything from there. These stores are very common in Sydney, mostly on George Street but also in similar common areas such as around Central Station.

Walking along I also noticed how ugly the buildings were and how common and uninteresting everything I was viewing on this street was. There were no theatres to be seen, no street performances, no excitement or and certainly no vibe. I wanted to run so that I could blur the image of what I was seeing and if that didn’t work I figured I could click my heels together three times and be elsewhere, somewhere more like home.

There is no place like home is the conclusion to this story. I wanted so much to be away from Sydney at that point as everything around me did not match what I needed from my surroundings. That is how I came to realising that I was not happy in Sydney and I needed to go home to Melbourne. The big multicultural city with the funky alive vibe, happy down to earth people and the hidden laneways where if you are curious like myself, can find a hole in the wall bar and meet some amazing people.

Here in Sydney I had been settling and trying to make good of something that I knew was bad.  I have been forcing my soul to be something that it was not in a make believe world that is not Melbourne.

Having been born and raised in Melbourne I guess I am bias, people do tend to feel more at home in their home town. That could be due to having ties back home but for me I also know that I am a different person in Melbourne, I am more inclined to dress like myself and be free. Some people however go to another city and thrive; I guess that depends on the city and on the person’s needs.

After a life changing experience in Melbourne my sister needed to get away from Australia and she went to London to visit the only two relatives we had there and is still there five years later. Why did she stay in London you ask?  Well you would have to ask her but I know from what she tells me, that  the people are different and she meets the most amazing characters, ones that if in Melbourne she would not have had the chance to meet. The atmosphere and the lifestyle is another factor that keeps her there, the world is at her doorstep!

From my own visit to London, I know what she means as while visiting her there I felt so alive; all of a sudden I felt freedom wash over me just from walking the streets. In Camden you can dress as you like and no one cares, you’re just another person dressing as you feel.  Dressing as yourself and the fashion style in London is so individual and I love that.

I have often wondered, if I could dress anyway I please then how would I look?  More importantly how would I look to myself and would I feel more like me.

Since attending Mind Body Spirit festival here in Sydney a couple of weeks ago, I have had a wakeup call and it is just what I needed. I found a part of me that wants to be free. The care free, laid back open minded woman I have buried deep down inside me needs to come out and I need to let my spirit run free.  When I think of happy times I can only think of times in my childhood and that is quite sad really, my adult hood has not given me any much joy. How I long to be that child again and paint and draw without care, wear crazy handmade costumes and not care what the world thinks.

So, I had parked at Redfern station as I had just come from Bronte, where I was viewing a granny flat that I was looking to move into. It didn’t work out but I am still looking for a temporary home. From Wednesday night a lot has changed. I am still looking for a place to live in Sydney, but only for 6 months.

I have admitted defeat and released that I need to get back to Melbourne. I was sure about it on Wednesday night; I cried on the phone to my parents as I told them the news. Now I am somewhat unsure if I am making the right decision as I keep thinking that I may not have given Sydney a proper shot. I don’t believe that I will be going home with my tail between my legs, I have given myself six months more to give it a proper crack. Maybe the time limit is the motivation I need to make some positive changes! Plus, I will be going home a lot wiser and stronger.

 I do however remember how I was in Melbourne, the rut I was in but I also remember the feeling I used to get wash over me as I walked the streets of the city and discovered new places. I was like Alice in Wonderland, my curiosity was rife and personality was still being discovered. I want to go back to that; I think it is a better base.

Once again, I am thinking of the future. I want to settle down in Melbourne, as in buy a place there and that is the only place I could see myself owning property. Another part of me wants to go to Byron bay and live on the beach, which I am also considering as a future move but I must take things one step at a time. For now I need a base to sort myself out.

If you know me you know that I am an unsettled soul, always trying new things out and trying to find where I fit (unsuccessfully I may add depending on how you look at my situation). I am looking for my tribe; my people and I will not stop till I find them and find where I am truly happy. Happy may not be the word perhaps content is a better word.  Happiness to me is more of a feeling not a state of mind, we feel happy when something ‘good’ happens but the next day we can be sad about it as it doesn’t make us content.

Isn’t life’s journey all about not settling for second best and continuing to learn, grow and find where you belong? It is for me, it’s now become a choice I make as an individual. I also think that I have an unsettled nature  but at least finding a place to live where I have inner joy and fulfilment in life to gain that contentment is a good place for me to start.

What good is a life where you are forcing yourself to be happy, a life that you are living just to get by. I want to live a life that is mine, one that I can be me, whoever that may be.   

Tiny Dancer

My childhood memories tell me that I was an active, artistic but strange kid who loved to draw, dance, make costumes out of scraps and play dress ups as if it were everyday routine.

Like most kids I owned a mix tape of 80s music including Bros, Alice Cooper and Belinda Carlisle. I also remember that I used to dance to Kylie when her video clip came on in the morning during Video Hits. I'd dress up, get my imaginary microphone out and pretend I knew all the words and moves.

As I grew older I had decided what I wanted to be when I grew up, a showgirl or a circus performer. I was in love with the costume mostly and I wanted to wear the fishnet stockings, feathers in my hair and the sequin outfit.

Perhaps mum should have encouraged me to follow my circus and cabaret dream, who knows I could have run away with the circus as I wanted to. I guess my life would have taken an interesting turn if she had, but instead I'm a nut packer in the city and I work hard on the weekends on my second job just to crack commission for extra cash. Deep down I know mums not really at fault, we make our own destiny and we shouldn't use our past experiences as excuses.

Mum did however get my sister and I involved in dancing at a local Maltese club, Malta Star of the Sea. They were a very unorganised bunch of people and we had a different instructor every month which was hard for us to keep a routine going. Jazz was mostly what we learnt and we performed on stage at a number of venues around town.

The feeling of being on stage, expressing yourself to an audience is a rewarding feeling, it’s not till it’s over and you hear the applause that you get the buzz and an adrenalin rush of sorts. You were nervous at first but now that it’s over you want to get up there and do it again. What a rush, what an experience.

My sister and I loved to dance and once we had choreographed a routine and I imagined myself in a cabaret outfit complete with top hat and tails. We thought it would be cool to show mum so I side stepped, shimmed and tipped my hat cheekily at the end. Needless to say, mum was not impressed. Too sexy for a girl my age perhaps, I think it was! She gave me the coldest look, as if I had just shamed the family name by committing an unspeakable crime. I felt the embarrassment wash over me as if she had surprisingly thrown a bucket of ice water over me.

This incident was one of many things my sister and I would do as bored kids to entertain ourselves. As we got older we were still into dance and I recall that we used to get a kick out of Fat Boy Slim's video for Praise You. You know the one, it had the group of people standing in a circle at some kind of shopping centre and they would jump up in the air and do all sorts of crazy moves to the music. Well, we loved it and had the moves down pat, what a classic.

The obsession my sister and I had with music and dance did not end there as more dancing would occur once our parents left the house on weekends. Myself being a Harry No Friends and her being underage for nightclubs meant that we were at home late on weekends so we used to make our own fun.

You see , we both shared a special secret love for what we called 'dumb dancing' which was basically throwing a bunch of impromptu dance moves together with mental facial expressions at match! This kind of dance came about from watching Mc Hammers 'Can't touch this' video clip on repeat and being fans of 'The Fresh Prince' aka Will Smith.

On these weekends the radio would be turned on and we would tune it to the station that had the all night nonstop party mix on and at times take turns at competing with alternating moves like a b boy would at a break dance comp. The whole living room and bottom floor of the house was our dance hall and we would go from room to room throwing our hands in the air and busting silly moves that at times had the old nosey lady next door staring!

We would dance, laugh and compete like this all through the night until we hear the sound of Dad's car rolling into the driveway. There would be a manic rush to the radio to turn off the music and we would stand near the front door side by side panting like dehydrated dogs in a desert and we would be dripping in sweat. Mum would ask us what happened and we would look at each other and try not to laugh as we tell her that nothing went on.

Although I never took my dancing classes seriously (I was too busy being the class clown) I did enjoy myself those four or so years that I danced. I did go on to join another dance group which was a hip hop group when I was 18 or so but since then I hadn't danced for years!

Since falling into my role as Presenter and Writer for online media site Trash Baggery I have been meeting, talking to many performers (mainly burlesque) and attending events to watch them razzle dazzle an audience. Many times I have left a show totally mesmerised by what these performers achieve on stage and what they give the audience in return for a few minutes of their time.

When one of those lovely enchanting creatures, Danica Lee advertised her Friday night burlesque class for beginners on Face book I read the advertisement and automatically hit 'attending' as my response.

I must say a number of times I thought that I should just cancel and forget about it as I had not payed yet and the date was coming closer, but deep down I wanted to attend so I had decided to do the class as I had no reason not to and I wanted to see how I felt as I have become a little uptight of late. I needed to try something different and this was it, curiosity always gets me.

From watching burlesque performances, both Neo and Classical styles over the last year I must say that I fell in love with the art, the drama of it all and most of all the personal expression that comes from each artist as they throw everything that have into their performance. There is so much energy in every performance and the expression for feelings and emotions spoken though the body is so amazing to watch.

For the night of the workshop work had me down as NA for that whole Friday, just so I could get ready and make my way down to Chippendale, where Danica’s studio is located without any hassle. I am prone to getting lost in Sydney and I had never been to that area with my car before.

Walking though the door, I knew that there was no turning back now. However undertaking Danica's workshop made me feel free again just like I did when I was younger, free and able to express myself as I wanted to. Now I was no longer afraid to be me and I had let myself go!

Danica is a Classical Burlesque dancer and this means that she does things the traditional way and uses props such as gloves and feather boas to tease her audience and she is also specialised in fan work. She taught me and the other women not only how to dance and express ourselves as women but also about the history of burlesque. The history of glove removal is interesting, as gloves were worn by women back in the day in everyday circumstances and to take gloves off was actually quite risqué in those days so this gives the audience the thrill.

The class taught us how to shimmy and shake, use gloves, feather boas and we learnt that Burlesque does not discriminate on size and shape. A feeling of empowerment washed over me as I used the largest asset I had (my behind if you didn't know what that is) which was amazing and it was such a great thing for the self esteem.

Building character was another large part of the class and I found out that my inner minx, Miss Lady Kalypso herself is a true lady, very sexy and classical. The characters moves must match how they handle and use their props and this means that facial expressions are just as much important as the routine as how you pull off each section of the dance reflects the type of character you are.

The class soon came to an end and as I exited through those studio doors I was thinking that dancing is something that I would like to continue. I have a spot in my heart for burlesque as it is so rich in history and since doing my research further into this I have learnt more.

I must confess that I am a bit of a prude when it comes to myself being semi naked on stage so I don’t know if I would be comfortable taking it all off for an audience (can you imagine explaining that one to wog parents and what they will tell the relatives) but I have a better understanding of it and a deeper respect for the women who do it as a career.

There are still circus classes I want to try so watch this space.


This blog post is dedicated to my sister Vanessa, thank you for the mental times...love you long time.

Fighting Fit

For someone who was at almost peak fitness around 2 years ago and who felt really strong inside and out, I've really let myself go of late. I haven’t exercised full on for almost a year and it is starting to show.

Appearance wise my head hair is starting to show strands of white and light spider veins have made a home on my pale white thighs. I've never viewed being thirty as old but I must say, that for the first time in my life I'm starting to feel my age, physically anyway ( I’ll always be a child at heart).

Back home in Melbourne, during the time I was still living with the folks I used to exercise regularly as I could afford a gym pass and you could say that I was a bit of a gym whore as I changed gyms often.

There was a long period of time where I settled in at one gym that ran the classes that I enjoyed which were Circuit and Body Pump. This then ended when I needed a change. Like most things in my life nothing is forever or certain as I change my mind like Paris Hilton changes boyfriends.

As I flicked though my Women’s Health magazine I stopped on a page which had an advertisement with a special offer for an outdoor fitness group. I called up, tried it and signed up after my first class as it was amazing to be out and getting fit with like minded people.

The drive was over twenty minutes to get to my classes, which clearly was a hassle and more of a struggle when I had to be there at 6am for Cardio class. It is hard enough to get up at 6am and get dressed to hit the pavement outside your home without having to be ready to get dressed, collect your things and drive all the way to the class at that hour of the morning.

My outdoor fitness class was an amazing experience and I count it as the best fitness training I have had in my life and the most life changing. The challenges the group offered to me were something I reveled in and I began to do things that I hadn’t since high school, like run three laps of a neighborhood. I achieved quite a bit, running 4 kilometers in twenty eight minutes was quite miraculous.I watched my fitness reach high levels with each week as it was all charted and counted.

Outdoor fitness is fantastic and I loved the way I felt during those months for grueling fitness. I was even fit enough to complete boot camp with ease; total addiction or it could have been dedication that pushed me on. Looking back, I'm amazed and overwhelmed at how much my body had achieved.  I remember running up and down these steep concrete stairs and each time we reached the bottom there were pushups or sit ups to complete.

I now have made a change and a decision to get out of my self built, cosy rut. This morning I woke at 6am and started to run towards the direction of the beach. I started to feel invincible and strong again and it has left me on a total high.

I want to tell everyone on the train what a lovely and productive morning I've had. I'm sure they will think I'm on illicit drugs! I've never tried illicit drugs but I can safely say that the adrenalin rush and the positive feelings that you get from getting up at 6am to hit the beach for a run is a hundred times better. Of course running and exercise is clearly more rewarding the illicit drugs, both to the body and soul.

Since moving from my home of 28 years, Melbourne to the small town of Jindabyne in the Snowy Mountains and then to Sydney I have become a slob and totally lost for direction in all areas in my life. My lack of exercise led to no motivation and no reason to get up, get moving and stay active.

Of late I have been looking at things in a whole different way. Since losing my dear friend three weeks ago my life has changed for the better. I'm still grieving but I have learnt that life is too short; you have to live today as If tomorrow is not coming round.

My run this morning made me feel in control and empowered. I ran along the beach then lifted that loose fence stump ( I found it laying on the sand and I substituted it for weights ) over my head and placed it onto my back as I completed squats and lunges followed by weight lifts over my head.

 Fitness makes me feel alive, positive and I always imagine that I'm stronger then I am when I'm doing it and push myself to achieve a forfilling work out. I feel like a god, like I have the power of Thor and I believe that thinking positive, positioning your body correctly and breathing are important key factors that we must think of during. Eating a healthy diet full of fresh food is just as much important by the way.

It’s a known fact that regular exercise and particularly weight lifting for women gives our bodies lean muscle, not bulkiness (which is what some people think) and of course a longer life span which means you have more days to work out. It’s a win / win situation all round!

To me fitness is not purely about the vanity factor or that I am now starting to have the same body shape as my mother and her sisters, which is not sexy (my body has lost its physical appeal since I’ve stopped lifting weights), its more about fitness and living a long,  healthy life for me. I also know that I am preventing other future problems like neck and back soreness which I have been suffering from of late. Who wants to grow old in bad shape? Not me!

I have always had the future in the back of my mind, as I want to be able to run while pushing the pram with my child tucked inside, cycle with them when they are older and set a good example as a parent. This might sound crazy to some as I am single and unsure if I am ready for a child but that's how my mind works. I see so many older people walking with canes or hunched over a walker, that's not for me. I am not saying that I want to wear Lycra and do crazy things like Madonna at her age either; I just want to avoid the avoidable.

What I am getting at is that it is not too late to move it and make a change. Start today and you will see what I mean and why I am raving on like a broken record about this subject and why I feel the strength of the God of Thunder when I left weights or fence stumps.

Fashion forward or backwards?

During the swinging sixties, October 30 1965 to be exact, one woman by the name of Jean Shirmpton changed the face of race day fashion forever.  Jean was not aware of the controversy that she was about to unleash when she turned up at Flemington Racecourse in Melbourne for Derby Day in a so called ‘mini dress’ as it was called then, hardly short by modern standards.  She wore no stockings with the dress as it was a warm day and no gloves as she didn’t own any.

Jean was at the event to hand out the Fashions On The Field contest winner’s their prizes and add international glamour to the event as she was a young super model at the time. In the U.K the hemlines were starting to go up and get shorter but this was not trending throughout the rest of the world, let alone in Australia. Jean was given a few dresses to wear for the event and did not know that her outfit would cause such a drama.

Wow, how times have changed and fashion developed since Jean attended Derby Day in that mini dress. Hemlines are now much shorter in general if you follow the so called fashion circle and clothing choices for women are getting much trashier and casual.

Blame who you will for this trend, Rhianna for running topless in a field for her latest video, American gangster rap videos for sexploitation of women or even Fergie for trying too hard to shake her thing to fit into the RNB scene as part of The Black Eyed Peas. Then there is Madonna who still thinks that Lycra looks good on someone her age and the women Australian Idol judges who are dressed in skimpy outfits which are unsuitable for women their age thus making them totally unrecognisable (or maybe we don’t recognise them because they haven’t completed any real work in over five years). Whatever the underlining factor is for this growing epidemic, it is quite sad to watch.  

Being a vintage and retro fashion lover and follower I attended Royal Randwick’s Melbourne Cup Day mainly for the fashion, people watching, and company of a new friend (also a vintage lover) and lastly to learn how to bet and win some much needed cash. Boy was I disappointed, we both were. Not by the atmosphere or by the races, we were disappointed and shocked by the attire or lack of appropriate attire donned by most of the women.

As we ascended up and the escalators we couldn’t help but notice the cheeks popping out from under some of the women’s painted on mini boob tube dresses. There was also a lot of propped up and popped out cleavage, visible panty lines were unmissable while women attempting to walk in chunky space like platform heels that looked like a modern take on the Geisha thong footwear, which was the choice for most. We also spotted bra straps and bra clips showing though key hole backs and one or two of these trends were coupled together mostly by women with Ompa Lompa coloured skin.

It made for an interesting afternoon but I could not help but wonder as I drove home at the end of the day, what had Jean accidently started back in 1965? Perhaps we could point the finger at her for her mistake or we can just look at her as ‘fashion forward’ for her time, which I think she was and blame it all on what I previously stated above.

When I was a teenager I saw that picture of Jean and I had heard about what happened to her and I thought it was a great thing. She was a woman who moved fashion forward, caused a bit of a stir and looked good doing it. Now I am not so sure if it is a good thing as we seem to be moving forward for the worse. I would have loved to go the races and feasted my eager eyes on more individuality and class then I did. I now know better next time then to attend Melbourne Cup day hoping to see anything spectacular, in a fashion stakes anyhow!

Single and thirty, so what!

Good news arrived via a Facebook message early last week. I was half asleep, struggling at getting out of bed and at war with the snooze button on my Black Berry. I hadn't been having the earliest of nights since the bad news I had received earlier on in the week so every five minute block of time counts.

My Black Berry, being a smart phone and much smarter than myself informed me that I had a Facebook notification. My cousin, who resides in London had personal messaged me to let me know that he and his girlfriend were expecting a child. Last I heard, they were all ga ga for each other and moving in together, now this.

My first thoughts were congrats and can't wait to meet the little one and the girlfriend when we meet in Malta for the summer. Then I came to the usual train of thought; will they now get married? Strange how society makes our thoughts move in a certain order and that when you are Maltese you can’t de program that shit out of your brain, it’s embedded in there somewhere deep down in your subconscious.

It’s also interesting that a large majority of us reach a point in life when we are ready to be unselfish, commit to another and say proudly: "I'm content with life and let's take it further." Further as in let's have baby or let's get married.  

To me that has always felt like the end of your life and freedom, the last thing and only thing that you would consider or jump into, once you had nothing else to accomplish in life. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that there are parents who don't live by the common rules of parenthood and married couples out there that break the mold (I know of couples who are this way) , but they are rare.

My far out theory would explain why so many of the so called 'popular girls' left school, fell pregnant five months later and married soon after. Did I mention that they still live in the same neighborhood and not far from their parents, have a mortgage that they can’t afford to pay off and have never travelled overseas? Each to their own I guess, but isn’t life to be lived?

Don't get me wrong, I'm totally over the moon for my cousin, if that's what makes him happy. I know that he has a great life that he has filled with strong friendships, travels and experiences. Now he has true love and the responsibility of care to his girlfriend and unborn child to add to his list and that's a life well lived.

What I can never get my head around is the fact that there are people out there who are 'settlers' or you could say they are 'followers'. Of course we are all free individual beings with our own separate thoughts, beliefs, feelings and ideas but somehow we are not all living the life less ordinary, more like living the life society accepts and understands.

I choose to walk the path of the unknown, and I still don't know how far I have to walk to get to my destination but I'm enjoying the journey (most days). At least I am learning and growing from my own mistakes and experiences to which I am responsible for as an independent, single woman. I also feel great about the fact that I can hold my head up high when I meet new people as I can talk to them about my life experiences and hold an interesting conversation, plus it adds my charm and character.

Being thirty, female, single and a child of wogs is not an easy thing to deal with. My parents have always pushed me to work, work and work some more so that I can buy a house and own stuff. I understand their point, I have tried that for a while and I was swimming in my earnings but drowning in my blackened empty soul. I moved out of home at 28 to gain my independence and I refuse to go back, not just to my parents’ house in Melbourne but to Melbourne in general.

When Dan and I split as a couple, friends expected me to be coming home to the city that has my heart and my mum made the cliché offer that I am welcome to come home anytime. I refuse, not because I hate being in Melbourne but because I hate the person I was in Melbourne.

 I felt restricted growing up in the sheltered suburbs with the 'followers' and I didn't fit in from a young age but also because I wanted to continue to grow, find my true self, learn and struggle and I want to see what I can find in Sydney. It’s also because I'm stubborn and proud, which I got off my dad;  the guy who two years ago told me that I should be married and pushing a pram by now.

To strengthen my point further, a dear friend of mine who I love dearly and is a long time friend from high school got married recently. She had not traveled overseas ever, until her honeymoon and she married a high school friend who she has known for over 10 years. They now have a house and they lived together for a few months before the wedding, so her life is set. I have always wondered if she was truly happy or if she was just doing what was expected of her.

Her wedding speech answered my question. She loudly and proudly stood up and spoke the words that went something like this; "Mum, Dad I hope you are happy now. I've done everything the right way, I have a house and I'm married, soon I’ll give you grandkids!" 

Well, how special am I then? I guess that depends how you look at my situation. I used to care that I may be running out of time to have kids, even though I never planned to get married by a certain age nor any time soon. These days I am still carefree about it all as I am concentrating on my career and other life time goals. Of course I know what I want my dream wedding to be like, the dress, the location and the theme, I mean what girl hasn’t dreamed of those details of her ‘special day’?.

The one thing I know I'm sure of is that I want to have joy in my heart and reach my career and artistic goals before I make that unselfish decision to take my life to that next step. After all, I want to have a full life and a heap of stories to one day tell my children, if I ever have any!

The only way I believe I could conclude this blog and sum up the way I feel as a 30 year old single woman is by leaving you with a quote which I saw written on the cover of Australian Woman’s Weekly today .  The cover featured the uniquely gorgeous, talented and successful Asher Keddie and the quote placed boldly next to her photograph read; “I don’t need babies to be a success”. Thank you Asher, that’s exactly my point!

Missed but not forgotten

When I left my home town of Melbourne and headed for NSW to move in with my then boyfriend and best friend Daniel, I didn't care about anything I left behind. It was about me and what I wanted to do, so I did it. I didn't think that anyone would miss me or care that I was gone. In my eyes there was no need for a farewell party with friends as I didn't have many and I still don't.

I found out last night that my dear friend Samantha passed away at the age of 28, two years younger than myself. We had known each other since forever, early high school days but we were re-united a few years ago and our friendship had flourished since then.

Everything changed after that sad and long moment when I learnt of her sudden passing. The reality is still sinking in now and it hurts tremendously, even though I can talk about Samantha's positives I still can’t stop crying.

Her sudden passing has made me change my mind on a lot of things and mostly I've changed my way of thinking and how I will deal with people I love and cherish from this day forth.

People and friends do care, it’s not about them saying it sometimes it more about them making time and being with you when they can. Even if it’s on the phone or through a face book message, communication in all forms counts.

We all have a lot going on day to day such as families, jobs and interests that make up our existence called life. It can be a lonely and confusing journey sometimes whether we admit this fact or not and it’s our family and friends that help us carry on, move forward, grow and look for positives.

This blog is not about me, it’s about realization, making the most of your current situation, being honest to yourself and others, and most importantly living every day as if it was your last.

By that last statement I don't mean going out and getting wasted every night and blowing all your savings on material objects, I mean; do that thing you have always wanted to do (no matter how crazy you look in someone else’s eyes), call a friend and tell them you miss them, be patient with people and accept their ideas and views, take that trip you have always to take.

I know Sam would have agreed with me on these points and although I miss her immensely I know I have fond memories of her and the times we shared both good and bad (mostly good!)

Sam would always have a colossal smile on her face when she saw you, a friendly greeting, a funny accent to yell at you in, a stupid comment to blurt out and most importantly a big heart to share with all that met her for the first time or those who knew for a lifetime.

While I continue to reflect today I remember a conversation I had over the phone last night with a mutual friend both Samantha and I shared, Rosemarie. Reminiscing on the fun times we had with Sam she had reminded me of the time (which was just before I moved states) that we went out on a Saturday night with another female friend to a comedy night and then Karaoke afterwards. Rose giggled as she talked about Sam's crazy antics that night and I followed with another memory.

So I did have a girly farewell with a group of friends that I cherish after all, I must have gotten too bitter and cynical to remember the good times. Or maybe I can blame it on life but either way, no matter what excuse I make I’ll be sure not to take another amazing moment with a loved one for granted. Ever. 

Sydney Clothes Swap Virgin

Sydney Clothes Swap Virgin

It’s now spring, and what a great time it is for new beginnings, letting go of excess baggage and forgetting what once was.

If you’re like me, your still holding onto that dress that you thought was amazing, but that was five years ago and you have not worn it since, let alone pulled it out of your wardrobe! Or maybe you were too overwhelmed by the long line at Zara so you guessed your size, got it wrong and couldn't return it in time to qualify for an exchange. Then there are the clothes that no longer fit as our bodies change with age, but we keep them none the less, just in case one day soon someone builds a machine to allow us to shape shift into our former selves.

Frustrating, I know. Not to fear however, as I have a solution to these problems and its good for the environment, your pocket as well as people in the same sentimental boat as you. It’s called clothes swap.

The way it works is simple. You check the next date that the event is on in your state, pay online or at the door, hand in up to six items in exchange for the same number of buttons and then wait till kick off.

Then comes the hard part, you must compete as well as pray that you can get to the item that you have been eyeing off since you entered. It doesn't always work I guess, my first experience was a disaster. I walked around for the whole hour we had to shop without picking up a single item and I watched as one lady picked up every item that I had wished for and hoped to snag, much to my disappoint and her delight.

I ended up going home with a bag full of six items that I wasn't keen on (one of which was mine to begin with) including a pair of heels that are three sizes too big but I did so in order to keep them handy for the next swap date. I seemed to be the only woman at the swap that didn't have 20 items let alone one on her arm, I must be picky!

On a positive note, I now have my six items ready for the next swap meet and I'm going home to Google it now and check the dates so I'm ready. Next time round I know what to expect, I have a plan; go in hard and ruthless, grab whatever you can and don't let them go. Of course in the back of my mind I'm thinking "what if it’s a repeat of my first experience?"

Oh well, I'm not going to let that stop me. It was a new and fun experience, I helped people out and I was part of a new way to shop and recycle. I'm just glad I didn't swap over my Alannah Hill cardie, I'm planning on cashing in on that one the old fashioned way, Ebay!