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!