Letter To A Kindred Spirit

Dear Anne,

You don't know me, but I believe if we'd met we would most definitely be kindred spirits. Maybe I wouldn't take the place of Diana as your 'bosum' friend, but I would be a close second. 

I am shy and silent just like your beloved Matthew. You could chatter to your heart's content and I wouldn't mind. 

Like you, I also had red hair as a girl. Unlike you, I wasn't particularly bothered by it. In fact, I felt proud to have something in common with my favourite heroine. I wore a blue dress with puffed sleeves to my year six farewell. I agree. Puffs are MAGNIFICENT. 

I can imagine us together. You would show me all your favourite haunts. The White Way Of Delight, and the Lake Of Shining waters. I think I'll pass on The Haunted Wood, however. My imagination is quite vivid too, you see. 

I would have been a prolific member of your Story Club, Anne. I too, wrote such melodramatic stories as a child. They are hilarious in hindsight, just like your stories: The Jealous Rival and In Death Not Divided. And Rosamund Montmorency is a splendid pen name! What do you think mine would have been, Anne? I'm thinking something like Lavinia De Lovely.  Or, with your permission, I could be Cordelia De Lovely. Yes, Cordelia IS a perfectly elegant name. You are quite correct about that. 

Mind you, I believe Anne is also an elegant name.  And yes, it should be spelled with an E. Remember how when you asked Marilla to be sure to spell it with and E and you said: "Whenever you hear a name pronounced, can't you always see it in your mind, just as if it was printed out?" 

I had such a thrill of recognition when I read that! I do the very same thing! In fact, I often see entire sentences in my mind as if they were printed out. It's odd, but I'm glad I have something else in common with you, Anne. This seems to confirm to me that we are indeed kindred spirits. 

I must confess, I would have been a little jealous of Gilbert's devotion to you, Anne. I definitely have a crush on him! But he would only ever have eyes for you, so you needn't worry about that. I am not a horrible flirt, show off or nasty gossip like Josie Pye! I would dance at yours and Gilbert's wedding, and toast you with currant wine. Being careful not to get drunk like Diana did! 

And when you went off to Queens and Kingsport Ladies College and then to live in Glen St. Mary, I would have been a faithful pen pal. Letter writing is something I've always enjoyed. I do wish that I could be much more determined, like you, Anne. But I'm getting better.

As Miss Stacey said: tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it.  That is always such a comforting thought. Until tomorrow comes and I make the same mistakes all over again. You know, just to be sure! 

There have been many times when I've felt like I'm 'in the depths of despair' as you put it, but you have always been there to comfort me.  Even though I know you're fictional, you'll always be my friend and a true kindred spirit. After all, that's what an imagination is for, right? So thanks, Anne. I look forward to the next 'bend in the road'.  

I will remain yours faithfully,

Ness. 

Joining in for Friday Reflections with the prompt:

Write a letter to a fictional character.

Which fictional character would you write to?

Are you an Anne Of Green Gables fan? 

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The Buried Hopes Of A Bogan (Or Something)

It's hard to believe that I could have any regrets. I mean, just look at my life. I'm a 42 year old unemployable, overweight bogan living in a fibro box in Boganville. It doesn't get any better than that, right? However the truth is, my life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes now. That's a sentence I once read in a book and I say it over to comfort myself in these times that try the soul. Not really. The first part about the buried hopes, anyway. I've just always wanted to use that line out of Anne Of Green Gables. Ahem.

Anyway, onto my regrets. Deep regretful sigh. SIGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Surprisingly I do have  a few. I think it would probably be a good thing to confess to them and let them go. I'll feel so much better and move forward free from regrets, a huge weight finally lifted from my shoulders. That, or I'll just add this post to the list. Who knows? Only one way to find out. In no particular order I present my list of bogan regrets:

• I regret decorating the living room of my parents house with a texta pen when I was around three years old. Sorry Mum!
• I regret kicking that boy in the shins at school when he tried to comfort me because I was peeved about not getting to go home early one day when my brother did. Even though I don't remember exactly who you were. Sorry, dude.
• I regret reading my Enid Blyton books under the desk at school. (Actually, no I don't. Honestly, what 10 year old book worm could put those books down and concentrate on their long division just when George and Timmy the dog were about to catch those nasty smugglers? None, right? The thing was impossible.)
• I regret cutting off my long hair when I was 14.
• I regret then thinking that a mullet perm was a good idea. Or any perm.
• I regret wasting so much energy thinking I was 'fat' when I was younger.
• I regret turning down that lucrative modelling contract when I was younger because I thought I was 'fat'.
• Okay, there was no contract. I just made that last point up to see if you were paying attention. As if you would believe that anyway. Did you? Don't answer that.
• I regret making that up, okay?! (Not really, I have to get your attention somehow. Ahem.)
• I regret saving up a sizeable chunk of money when I was young, ostensibly so I could go overseas and then just getting married and putting it into a mortgage and never going, because now that will never happen. An even deeper regretful sigh. SIGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
• I regret perceiving being such a quiet person as extremely negative trait and not seeing it as a possible strength in having a library career.
• I regret the consequence of the above perception. This resulted in me 'burning my bridges' in almost every job I had. I ended up leaving because I believed it was only a matter of time before I was fired. I have since learnt that this is common thing that Aspie's do.
• Sometimes I regret not knowing that I am Aspie sooner than age 40. Unsure if it would have made any difference so I don't spend too much time on this regret.
• I regret turning down Brad Pitt's proposal because then he went and married that bloody pouty Angelina Jolie biatch.
• Okay, you caught me making up stuff again. I admit, it was a bit obvious that time. As if anyone would turn me down for Angelina. Unthinkable, right? Pfffffffffffffft.
• I regret replacing my exercise addiction with a cakie one because now I'm struggling to reverse that.
  
• I regret going to Weight Watchers a few years ago and doing so well, losing weight, only to fall off the wagon spectacularly and regain. See above point.
• I really regret that anxiety has become such a presence in my life and is something I struggle with constantly. Enormous regretful sigh containing all the sorrows of the ages. SIGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Having now confessed to such a long list of regrets I must add that I am (slowly) learning to accept myself and the way things are right now, rather than focusing on 'could have beens' and 'shoulds' and 'what ifs' and all that maudlin stuff that can be quite draining and a waste of energy. After all, I haven't listed any murders, have I? Oh wait. I accidentally murdered my dog. Oops. Long story. I do deeply and profoundly regret that. Sorry Betsy!

Right. That's it. Nothing else. I've never been arrested, been caught naked or done drugs or anything illegal. Damn. I'm actually frightfully boring. Maybe I better go and get arrested just so I can add something interesting to my list. I regret being boring. On second thought, being boring is what I do best. Especially with this blog. You're welcome.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

   What are your regrets? Or do you have more of an Edith Piaf approach to life and have no regrets?

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A Bogan Reads A Book (A Billion Times)

Today I have the tedious task of bringing to you my favourite books, movies and songs. I say tedious because this list will most likely be extremely short, boring and predictable.

Once again, I will totally lose some bogan cred when I confess that I have never even read the 50 Shades Of Grey trilogy. Is it even a trilogy? No idea. I know. Shocking, right? How can I call myself a bogan?

Likewise, I've never touched any of the Twilight series or The Hunger Games either.

My love of books began predictably enough with good old smashing Enid Blyton. It was quite a shock to discover that the woman who created The Magic Faraway Tree, The Famous Five series and many other books, all of which I devoured as a child, was, in fact, rather horrid in real life and not the sweet, whimsical person one would have imagined. Sigh. I guess that is why we love escaping into fiction. Reality SUCKS.

Following my escapades up The Faraway Tree, where I seem to have permanently left my brain, I read Anne Of Green Gables and the whole 'Anne' series. A new obsession began. She made me proud to be a ranga. And proud to wear puffed sleeves. Shut up. It was the 80's.

But surely my most overwhelming book obsession came in the early 90's with the publication of an authorised biography about The Carpenters called The Carpenters: The Untold Story by Ray Coleman.  I read it a few billion times. This was riding on the coat tails of a similar obsession with a God awful made for TV movie  about Karen Carpenter, imaginatively titled The Karen Carpenter Story.

One of the most curious things about that TV movie, apart from the absurd amount of times I was able to watch it, was the fact that they had apparently gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure that certain details in the film were supposedly accurate, so they had used The Carpenters real clothes, instruments, cars and filmed certain scenes in their real home. Then, after doing all that, the actress who played Karen, Cynthia Gibb, wore the most ridiculous, fake looking wigs throughout. Weird. Yet I watched. Then I watched it again. And again. Just as I had read that Coleman bio again and again. Maybe I was hoping it would end differently if I read it just one more time. Nope. She still died in the end. Every. Single.Time. *sobs*

Bad wig alert. As well as bad acting, bad script..and a truly
bad ending. Sigh.

Then, in 2010 yet another bio about Karen came along which emphasised how much the previous Ray Coleman one, (and The Karen Carpenter Story) had been sugar coated and white washed. I realised that I had readthe previous book so many times looking for something that wasn't there. What Karen was really like. I felt like I got that from this book, so it's now my new favourite.

Which brings me to my favourite songs. You'll never guess in a million years what they are. No way. Okay, I'll tell you.

Carpenters ones. What a shock.

 I love this live performance of Rainy Days And Mondays. And weren't the 70's groovy?

Oh okay, their songs were a bit cheesy. But, THE VOICE. Except this one. Cutting edge stuff.

The song. The accompanying film clip, with all the planets and spaceships that make Star Wars look like Pigs In Space. The green satin jump suit. Classic. Shut up.

I also love Barbra Streisand songs and movies. Which is odd, because I don't really like people particularly, or think that people who need people are the luckiest people in the world. Not really. People are the WORST. I'll still listen to Le Babs sing it, though.  Nothing but the best for this bogan.

Linking up with The Lounge which is being hosted this week by Tegan from Musings Of The Misguided.

Do you have any book or movie obsessions? Or favourite songs?

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Frocked Up

It was 1986. I was 15 years old and madly in the throes of an Anne Of Green Gables fixation. I always had been since I'd read the book at age 10, but now there was also a current mini series starring Megan Follows and Colleen Dewhurst. I loved it. So naturally, when my formal came around I wanted a dress with puffed sleeves, just like Anne had always longed for. Marilla wouldn't let her, but Matthew sneakily got her one.

Happily, my mother wasn't like Marilla and obligingly sewed up the puffed sleeve extravaganza in mint green taffeta with white polka dots and a satin bow sash. It looked like a typical 1980's bridesmaid's dress. Ignoring this, I loved it and thought I was quite special in it, which is apparent by my pose. Love the hand on the hip. That was as close to an attitude as I've ever had.

Initially, I wore it to a cousin's wedding. On that occasion, I teamed it with lace pantyhose and fingerless white lace gloves,like the ones Madonna wore. Thus, I cleverly and creatively, in my mind, combined my love of Anne with my love of Madonna.

I honestly don't remember much of the actual formal itself. It was in the school hall, where I probably hovered around awkwardly as usual, not fitting in with the crowd.  But at least I got to wear my puffs. I most certainly did not have a date. There was no Gilbert Blythe for me. Sigh. Not that I was remotely interested in boys anyway. There were so many much more interesting things. Like Anne Of Green Of Gables and Carpenters records.

There may have been a rousing chorus of That's What Friends Are For at the end of the evening.  Several class mates started bawling. I looked on, from my awkward position in the corner, impervious. I didn't know what friends were for, since I didn't have any. Impossible to believe, when I looked like this:

LOOK at the puffs!!

Two years later, in 1988, for my Year 12 Formal, I was so much more mature and sophisticated, going with elegant black. This time I decided to forsake sleeves altogether. However, the bow/sash became larger than ever, attached to a tulle bustle with little colourful diamantes decorating it. I had a lovely 'up' do, instead of the 'big' Eighties perm for a change. I finished the look off with some bling, which is not very visible in this photo. The carpet we used to have was quite eye catching, however. As well as the lovely lace doilies on the lounge chairs.

Incidentally, I actually have one of those chairs in this house. It rocks. Not in the sense of being awesome. In the literal sense of, it is, in fact, a rocking chair.

Which is more dated, the dress, or the carpet?

We set off to the Formal, which was in a function centre this time. I took along a girl friend,who didn't go to my school, oblivious to the thought of this seeming, erm.... odd. (Not that there's anything wrong with that..as they say).

In those days your parents dropped you off in the station wagon and you didn't think anything of it. There were no stretch limos or any of the over the top goings on of today's teens, who think they are all some kind of celebrity strutting down the red carpet. Seriously? 

Another school friend arrived shortly after us, dressed in some sort of weird Cyndi Lauper meets Carmen Miranda get up, featuring every colour of the rainbow, and some I'd never even seen before. She managed this on her face as well, with green mascara clashing with purple eye shadow. It was quite blinding. There was fruit and feathers in her hair. People gushed over my dress, saying how lovely it was then turned to hers and said things like:

 "Erm..it's different."

 Or "It's very..um..colourful."

She pouted at this, looking quite peeved. Long story, but there were times when she'd been a bitch to me (and other times,when she'd been kind and the only friend I had). On that night I seemed to only remember the bitchy moments, so I was not that sympathetic.  I flounced about in my frock, loving the swish of my tulle bustle.  While other girls would have been horrified for their mother to sew them a frock, I thought it was awesome. There was no chance that I was going to experience THE HORROR of another girl turning up in the SAME DRESS. I was unique. I was special.  I was frocked up.

Linking up with Cathy from The Camera Chronicles for Flashback Friday.

What did your formal frock look like? Do you like getting frocked up?

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Books Are My Bestie

I have a book fetish.  Books have been my major companion and 'bestie' since childhood. As soon as I could read, I always had a book attached to me and would often come wandering out to the breakfast table, book in hand.

The amount of times I was busted reading a book under the desk at school are too numerous to mention. It all started with Enid Blyton, of course.  Admittedly all the constant references to characters named 'Fanny' were a bit too much for me at times, but nevertheless the stories were so entertaining that I couldn't put them down. It never dawned on me to question  how four kids and a dog could outwit hardened criminals, always remaining unscathed throughout, in all those gripping Famous Five books I read avidly.  I was rather gullible and dreamy. 

It has since dawned on me that a love of Enid Blyton books might not have started me off on the best path to having a firm grip on reality.  A situation that was made worse by a love of such unrealistic TV shows as I Dream Of Jeannie and Bewitched.  I mean, pleeease,  a beautiful witch, with magical powers that mean she can go anywhere and do anything she desires, yet all she wants to do is completely forsake those powers just to be a normal housewife.  RIIIIGHT.  I don't think so.

Anyway, back to books.  At age 10 I read 'Anne Of Green Gables' and then 'Anne' books took over from Enid as my favourites.  My friend Poss will want me to mention the 'Jill' books. So I will. They were 'horsey' type books.  And I say, they were frightfully good. Smashing and all that.  Just like Enid Blyton.  I did like the odd 'horsey' book, which is curious, because I've never particularly liked horses.

I my teens I went through a stage of reading the dreaded Mills and Boon type romances.  This horrified one year 9 English teacher, who called my mother up to the school to inform her that reading such books caused young girls to believe that if they had sex and had an orgasm, they were in love!

Books are the only thing I still hoard as an adult. With other ladies it's usually a handbag or shoe fetish, with me it's a book fetish. Everyone has their thing.  This is fortunate for my husband in that I'm happy with a two dollar book from an op shop, rather than a two hundred dollar handbag.  Not so fortunate however, in that we often need a spare suitcase to bring home all the books I buy on our holidays.

The fact that I will never have time to read all of these books even if I live to be 137 years old is completely irrelevant.  I still have to have them.   Now I still read lighter stuff. I have a short attention span and three kids, so what I am going to read, War and Peace?

 I do sometimes attempt classic authors like Austen, Bronte or Dickens, all of whom I love, but they require more concentration. So I mostly stick with frothy, girly 'chick lit' as they call it, or war time sagas, because I find it amusing how they always have to time for a brew in between all the dramas and bombs exploding, being a cuppa tea girl myself.

Interestingly, I've never read any Harry Potter books.  And I never will. As I've mentioned before, after having three sons, I'm over it.  I may also be the only person in the entire world who has never read the The Da Vinci Code.  I fear it would be too confusing for my fragile brain.  I can't even figure out how to put my sons Lego sets and other various toys together, so my brain might explode trying to decipher such a book.  I won't be reading the Twilight series or The Hunger Games either.  Ditto Fifty Shades Of Grey.

Instead, I'll just read 'Anne' again for the millionth time. Okay, trillionth....

"Mrs Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed by alders and ladies eardrops and traversed by a brook....."

Note: That opening line from Anne Of Green Gables was quoted straight off the top of my head.  Truly.  Yep, I really am that tragic.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

                                                         Which books do you love?
                                      What are you reading at the moment?

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