One Word: 2019 Edition

Have you ever heard of the one word or intention for the year thing? Yes? No? Love it? Loathe it? Couldn't care less? Move along then. There's nothing here for you. Unless I can convert you.

You see. I'm a convert. I previously scoffed at such a thing. Seemed like a load of hippy drippy bullocks to me. However, I had an epiphany of sorts. It occurred to me that I was being a sour old cynical negative Nellie. The process is helpful to many, and if it doesn't work out well, no harm done. Besides, I quite like words in general. I like reading them, I like writing them, so why not choose one of them for the year?

Look, clearly I'll never be one of those positive Polly's, but I don't have a cynical b!+$h all the time either.

So with that in mind, I resolved to embrace the concept. The results have been tenuous to say the least.

My word for 2017 was MOVE.  I was hoping to form a strong exercise habit, like I have in the past. However,  I proceeded to take this word as more of a light suggestion. Oops. There was some movement but not quite as much as there could have been.  

For 2018 I decided to address my inner mean girl with some self-compassion. Therefore my word was COMPASSION. Mixed results yet again. I have made some strides in being kinder to myself, however I consider it to be still a work in progress.

I find myself in the interesting quandary or dichotomy of needing to be kinder to myself, yet also needing to require more of myself. See above. Self-compassion and self-care isn't just about eating cake and being indulgent. And...erm... not moving. Dammit.

So yeah, still working on it, as I mentioned. This brings me to the current year.

I mulled over what word to choose for 2019. There are so many frightfully good words.  In the end I decided to keep it simple.  

My word for 2018 is...  drum roll, please (you have to imagine it...):

LOVE

Basic old love. Here's why:

• It segues nicely from my 2018 word COMPASSION.
• I  still need a reminder to be more loving and kinder to myself.
• I am lucky and blessed to have so much love in my life even when I am not very lovable.
• Some folk think you cannot be loved until you completely love yourself. I am living proof that's not true. See above. 
• What the world needs now is love, sweet love. It's the only thing that there's just too little of. OK, that's a Burt Bacharach song, but still. Relevant.
• Like I said, I love words. I love books. I love my family.  And yes, I DO love cake. Anything wrong with that? 
• The overriding theme of most Carpenters songs is love.
• Ditto Montgomery books.
• I suspect I'm a softie and incurable romantic at heart despite all my surface cynicism. Yeah, I'm not fooling anyone with all that. I know.
• Love is a groovy thing. It knows how to make you sing. And it fills up your life with sunshine and joy. OK, that's the words to a little known Carpenters song, but again. Relevant. See above.

• I'm not setting myself up to fail but choosing such a delightful word. And you never know, I may just learn to love moving again anyway. Perhaps not as much as cake, but anything is better than nothing. 
• I think this process is supposed to be an intention not a just a word.  So celebrating love and being loving to myself and others seems like a pretty good thing to me. 
• Ultimately this seems like a much more beneficial thing that a new year's resolution, which always seem to be about weight loss. And, if you're like me, always always seem to be to broken. Usually on January 1st. Forgeddaboutit. (Totally a word - maybe that should be my word?!!).

So there you have it. My word and intention for 2019 is all about LURRRRVE.  

And now it's back to some Burt Bacharach to fade out.  Again, you have to imagine it, or clink on the link below. As sung by Dionne Warwick. Because as brilliant a composer as Burt is, he ain't no singer. 

Sing it with me! What the world needs now....!!!

Do you have a word or intention? 

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If I Could #LifeThisWeek

If I could talk to the animals! Just imagine it! Or something...

Well actually, I DO talk to my dog. And she just looks at me like I'm nuts for some inexplicable reason.

Anyway, that was the first thing that popped into my head for this prompt. Because that's the way my brain works. Then I'll jump to the next random thing.

Which is THIS:

If I could, I would register for The Carpenters 50th Anniversary celebration thing happening in California next April. Then I would go, combining it with a family holiday. Sounds awesome, right?  Unfortunately, I would have to rob a bank first. So if I could please  borrow someone's balaclava?

Just kidding.

I could never rob a bank. Sigh.

First of all, I'd have to use a toy gun. Just like an old episode of The Golden Girls when they get held up by a dude in a Santa suit. (Random brain thing again. Bare with me...) Oh wait.

Random cute bears for no reason. 

Now my random brain is pondering if the expression is bare with me, or bear with me. The latter seems to imply there's an actual bear with me. But the former implies nakedness, and I really don't wanna go there. My random brain has backed me into a very awkward corner.

Moving on.

So where was I? Oh yes, the robbing a bank thing. Silly. I can't do that. Can I?

I'll have to win the lottery instead. Easy peasy. The odds are only astronomical, but meh. Why worry about inconsequential things like logic?

What I'm actually getting at is, if I could, I would go on a holiday. I'm sure it will happen soon. Except it'll be somewhere like Coonabarabran instead of California. Which is fine. I'll go anywhere at this point. Sniff.

Meanwhile, I am in the process of trying to make some changes but I don't want to talk about them at this point because then I'll talk myself out of it, or it won't happen, since I have a habit of announcing things and failing and this is a terrible run on sentence and I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.

And now for some more random 'if I coulds':

If I could, I would skip summer. Or go somewhere cooler. Or better still, make it perfect spring weather all year round, with some rain as well.

Yes, I would definitely make it rain, if I could. Maybe I should try a rain dance, but I don't dance. So magical thinking it is. Make it rain! Pretty please? Pretty please, with sugar on top? Does anyone say that anymore? I just did, so there's that.

If I could, I would lie in the sun all day like Cookie. But I have some stuff I wanna get done. Stuff that actually involves moving. Shame about that.

If I could, I would reinvent the human body so you could get exercise while sleeping. That would be SO much more efficient.

If I could, I would become a speed reader. Then I could read ALL THE BOOKS.

Presently I desire a cup of coffee, but it won't make itself. I find that frightfully rude. If I could, I would WILL the coffee to make itself. Furthermore, the housework should really do itself as well.

If I could, I'd create a magical land called Nessville (just came up with that name off the top of my head...) where cakies are good for you, cancer doesn't exit, everyone is kind and has a pet unicorn. Did I mention that logic is overrated?

Can't do any of those things.

But there is one thing I CAN do.

Bring this bewildering, babbling post crashing to its end.

DONE.

The End.

What would you do if you could?


Image credit: https://www.pexels.com/

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My First Concert

There have been many times in my life when I have wondered wistfully why I was born in 1971. This meant that only a year later in 1972, I was one year old. Yep, I'm a genius, but we already knew that. You see, 1972 was the one and only time that the Carpenters visited and performed in Australia. Sigh.

I would have LOVED to have been there right in the middle of the mosh pit! Oh okay, there was no mosh pit. I suspect they're overrated anyway. Who wants to waste time with all that when they could have been transfixed by every note and Karen Carpenter behind her drums?

Apparently their concert was broadcast on Channel 7. The black and white footage is floating around on Youtube, so at least there's that.

When ABBA mania hit Australia in 1977, I seemed to be oblivious. This was In spite of my enthusiastic singing into a hair brush pretending to be Agnetha, just like every other six year old Aussie girl. So I never got to see the fab four either. In fact, I don't distinctly remember what my first concert was. I'm a tragic person. 

The luckiest little fan wasn't me.  Sigh. 

My auntie took me to see the stage musical CATS when I was approximately 14 or so, but that's a little different I guess. Around that same time, I was utterly DEVASTATED because The Nolans (in the mood for dancing, anyone?) were performing at Rooty Hill RSL (classy!) and I couldn't go because I was underage. Cutting edge taste in music all the way, as you can see. Of course it's a mystery why, being such a cutting edge rebel and all that, I didn't just sneak out and fake my age to get in. I'm such an enigma.

Ultimately I ended up seeing the following musicals/shows:

• CATS
• Anything Goes
• The Rocky Horror Show
• Phantom Of The Opera
• Les Miserables
• Rasputin
• Carousel 

My memory is bit patchy about most of the above, to be honest. I mean, it's hard to remember yesterday let alone thirty years ago. Or is that just me?

Additionally I attended the following concerts:

• Simply Red
• INXS
• Midnight Oil
• Gloria Estefan
• Michael Buble
• Barbra Streisand

And a few other Aussie groups...

I suspect that Simply Red was the first one and I ended up seeing them twice, so I guess I like them. I haven't listened to them in YEARS though. Weird. 

Something that strikes me is the price of concert tickets. I often see some lucky Carpenters fans sharing their vintage concert tickets in Facebook fan groups. The prices on them are so ridiculously cheap. Around five bucks fifty or something. Nowadays they're so frightfully expensive. Oh well, just as well I'm not really into mosh pits and the whole scene.

To be perfectly honest I wouldn't say that a typical rock concert is really my thing. Surprising, right? Shut up.  I don't do well with loud noise and crowds due to my sensory issues. However, I would have loved to hear Karen Carpenter's voice in person. And that will never happen. It will be one of my lifelong sorrows. Cue weepy violin music... Or mournful meandering oboes because that's a Carpenters trademark. I love it. Again, I reiterate - shut up. 

So excuse me while I go and watch the above Youtube video and pretend it's 1972.  Is there a problem with that? 

What was your first concert? 

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Are Exams Important?

 Hello, people! Welcome to another Monday! That glorious and beloved day of the week. People love Mondays! The same way they love root canal. Do you know what I'm saying?
Anyway, once again I am joining in the fun for Life This Week over at Denyse Whelan Blogs.  I missed it last week. Oops. 

Let's talk about exams! Simply because that's the prompt. Otherwise I wouldn't really talk about them. If I did I'd have two words: 

EXAMS SUCK!

I say this because I wasn't very good at them. 

Case in point: it may be hard to believe it (if this blog is anything to go by), but English was one of my best subjects in high school. However, I failed English in my HSC!

My poor mother was so astonished and dumbfounded that she truly believed there must have been some kind of mistake. She insisted that we enquire into this grave injustice.

We wrote back to check. This was back in in 1988, the time of the old snail mail.  Subsequently, I received confirmation of my abysmal results. YAY! 

EPIC FAIL.  

Every now again I still have hideous dreams (nightmares) that I'm back at school or doing exams. It's always such a relief to wake up!

Whenever I'm in a situation of being tested or having to think quickly on the spot, I can't seem to process it. It was exactly the same for me with job interviews. I'm not sure if it's an ASD thing or just a Ness thing. Either way, clearly I'm special. So very SPECIAL. 

I sometimes wonder if I'm doing the right thing as a parent, because I'm not pushy or demanding about exams or achievements. Sure, I want my boys to do their best, but I don't want them to be despondent if they don't or can't. The HSC and high school is not the be and end all of life! I don't think so, anyway. But then, I would, wouldn't I. Considering what I just revealed. Moving along...

Anyway, in my (admittedly limited) experience, no employer was ever the least bit interested in school or HSC results. I have no idea if this has changed these days. Has it? 

So that's my thoughts about exams! Deep, huh? Yeah, not really. It's obvious why I never became an academic. 

However, I feel like I should throw in an impromptu exam, just for shits and giggles. I should test YOU. But I know nothing. NOTHING!

Hang on, I know about The Carpenters!  

May I present to you the most IMPORTANT test you will ever take. 

 A Carpenters Pop Quiz: 

What were The Carpenters Christian names?: 

a) Richard and Linda.
b) Sharon and Darren.
c) Karen and Richard.

The Carpenters were one of the most successful pop music duos of all time. But how did they meet?

a) In college.
b) At the hairdressers, getting a bowl haircut.  
c) They were brother and sister!

How did they come up with the name "Carpenters"?

a) They were devoted Christians and Jesus was a Carpenter.
b) They loved woodworking
c) It was their family name. Duh. 

The Carpenters often referred to their music as being influenced by 'the three B's'. What/who were they referring to? 

a) Boring, banal, bland.*
b) Beethoven, Burt Bacharach and Barbra Streisand.
c) The Beatles, The Beach Boys and Burt Bacharach.

*(I don't think we can be friends anymore). 

Finish the lyric: Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near...?

a) They sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue . 
b) Before the rising sun, we fly.
c) Just like me, they long to be, close to you. 

During the 1970s, The Carpenters were known for voicing THE ultimate burning question of that tumultuous decade. What was it?

a) Don't you remember you told me you loved me, baby? 
b) Can't we stop hurting each other? 
c) All of the above. 

What instruments did the duo play?

a) None. They just pretended like all those dumb 70s pop groups.**

a) Glockenspiel and tambourine.
c) Piano and drums. 

**(You're pushing it).

In 1978 The Carpenters recorded a Christmas album. What was its title?

a) Christmas With The Carpenters.
b)  Merry Christmas, Darling.
c) Christmas Portrait. 


Karen Carpenter tragically died on February 4th, 1983 at just 32. How did she die? 

a) A plane crash.
b) Who cares?***
c)  Heart failure due to complications from anorexia nervosa.

***(You are officially dead to me). 


Which iconic pop star is responsible for this quote about Karen Carpenter: 
"I'm completely influenced by her harmonic sensibility."

a) Cher.
b) Michael Jackson.
c) Madonna. 

If you answered with all C's, then congratulations!

You scored A PLUS! 

As for the rest of you; take a good hard look at yourselves. What are you actually DOING with your lives?? Disgraceful! 

This is the most IMPORTANT exam! The rest are rubbish. 

You've been told. 

Now off you go and educate yourself about all things Carpenters! 

But before you go, just one tiny question...

What exactly DO 'normal' people think about and remember? Ahem.

Linking up for Life This Week. 

Also linking for  Open Slather and Mummy Mondays.

Do you think exams are important? You know, proper ones...? 

Images: Pexels; Pinterest

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Conversations with Belief

Hello again.  Here I am with some of my disjointed, ad hoc thoughts about belief... 

When I was a girl I liked to believe that there really could be fairies hiding somewhere among the flowers in the garden, just like the ones I read about in Enid Blyton books.

I believed in the old 'they lived happily ever after...' myth at the end of every fairy tale. 

As an adult, one thing I hate hearing is the old 'everything happens for a reason' cliche. 

I  do believe in laughing at how ridiculous life can be.

I believe in a good sneeze. But only with my legs tightly crossed because otherwise.... Well, you don't want to know. Suffice to say I'm a 45 year old woman who's had several pregnancies. 

I believe that no matter how old you are you never stop learning, wishing, discovering things about yourself and life. 

I believe that so many things are overrated. And underrated.

I believe that I am just writing rubbish because I don't really know what I believe. I'm very confused. This will not be new information to anyone who has read this blog before. Ahem. 

I believe that what doesn't kill you does, indeed, make you stronger. And I'm strong enough now, thanks very much. 

Of course there is the whole issue of belief in one's self. One of my major core beliefs has always been that I'm weak and a scaredy cat who can't cope with the grittier side of life. Time and again this belief has been proven wrong. See above. 

Do I believe in God?

The short answer is NO. There is a part of me that would like to be able to believe. It often seems that some people who do believe are able to accept and cope with the most confronting things; even death. They genuinely believe that it's 'God's will' and they're going to a 'better place'. I would love to have some sort of belief that gave me such a sense of peace and comfort. But truthfully it seems like nonsense to me. 

Of course, there are always moments when I would like to keep an open mind. Keep my options open. You know, just in case. Emergency God, as the joke goes. The one you suddenly find yourself calling upon in desperation while in the depth of a crisis. Imagine yourself plummeting to your certain death in a plane crash or awaiting your test results  - begging and pleading with God. A God you're not even sure you believe in...

Weirdly, I don't remember doing this when I got my cancer diagnonsense. Did I? I believe I was more matter of fact. My attitude was: I have to listen to the doctors and get on with it have medical treatment. That's what will save my life. Not God. 

I've never been spiritual or cosmic or 'out there'. Although as I mentioned above, as a child I was much more whimsical. I am a mass of contradictions or dichotomies. I'm logical yet scatter-brained. See? That doesn't even make sense. 

I seem to have become more attuned to paying attention to my logical side these days. Oh, except when I'm catastrophising... That's another story! But there is room for being fanciful. Some things do require common sense, others don't. It's no accident that the tag line of this blog is: In my own little world...

It's a happy place with cakies and unicorns. And, of course, Carpenters music. Some people believe Karen Carpenter is an angel. Maybe she is? Who knows? Again it makes no sense to believe this and not believe in God... But nonsensical ad hoc, irrational thoughts and musings are my specialty. We all have our strengths! 

Anyway, one of my favourite Carpenters songs is called Look To Your Dreams... 

To say I'm romantic would be quite semantically true
But make believe passion has fallen from fashion's milieu
It's understandable why we're a little confused
It's asking for trouble just watching the six o'clock news
But for a moment, all things aside
Look to yourself, somewhere inside

Look to your dreams
Don't they still seem worthwhile?
Don't they still seem in style?
Aren't you glad they're still there?

Look to your dreams
There's a need for them now
When the world has us down
Aren't you glad they're around?

Once conceived, once believed
Fantasy's reality's childhood
And like a seed, visions need constant care
Like a child would, we should

Look to our dreams
We can still reach the stars
We can still break the bars
We have built here on Earth

Look to your dreams
And tomorrow may be
Better for you and me
The future may say, blame blind yesterday
For taking dreams away
They could mean more than they seem.
Written by John Bettis, Richard Lynn Carpenter • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

You will either feel uplifted or slightly queasy after that. Or perhaps a curious mixture of both? You're welcome.

Right. I'm off to take my meds search for fairies in the garden. Enid Blyton and Karen Carpenter couldn't be wrong. Could they?


Linking up for Conversations Over Coffee and IBOT


What do you believe in? 

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Letter To My Sixteen Year Old Self

Hello again! I'm back with a lovely regurgitated and tweaked offering! Why not? 

I stumbled upon yet another blog link up over at Life Through The Haze. It sounded like something I'd be up for. And when I read the prompt for this week, I knew I had something in the archives. So I've updated my tender letter to my sixteen year old self. 

Side note: wasn't I cute? And skinny. No bat wing nanna arms or double chins. Oh well, there's more of me to love these days. That's one way of looking at it!  

Anyway, here is the updated letter: 

Dear 16 year old Nessie,

Hello, it's me, your 45 year old self. There are a few things I wanted to say to you.

First things first.

A mullet-perm is a bad idea. In fact, it is a truly DREADFUL idea. Do not go there. I know it's the 80's and everyone is suffering from TES*, but please, resist. At age 45 you won't even have to bother with perms because you'll be sporting some lovely nanna curls. Don't ask. 

Mullet-perm circa 1987

Nanna curls 2016

Right. Well dear, I know you're very lonely right now, and you don't have many friends. Sorry to tell you, but the one or two 'friendships' you have now are going to go pear-shaped.

There is something called Rotaract. GO.

You will be out of your comfort zone. You will be awkward, but - eventually - that is where you will meet lifelong friends (or at least until age 45 anyway). Oh, and you will meet your husband there too!

Even though, dare I say it, there is really no rush to be married. (Shhhhh, don't tell Micky Blue Eyes).

In the future there will also be something called the Internet. There you will be able make online friends with other Carpenters fans. Consequently you will no longer feel like a freak for your obsession. 

There are some other interesting things you should know about 2016. Here goes: 

People don't listen to records anymore. You'll hang onto your Carpenters ones, though. Because CARPENTERS. Duh! 

Those Back To The Future Movies LIED. There are no hover boards! But this won't particularly concern you since you are afraid of heights. Yes. Still. There's nothing you can do about it.

There are no time machines, so really there is no way for you to see this drivel  genius that I'm writing to you. I blame Steven Speilberg. It's like those movies were total fiction or something! See previous point. I thought I was watching a documentary. HMPH. 

It's super weird and bizarre and kind of bullshit around this point in time. Both personally and just in general. I can't even begin to explain how weird. 

Related: you need to learn that the past is over and the future hasn't happened yet. After a life-changing event** you will slowwwwly learn to live in the present. And then maybe you'll stop writing trite letters to your past self. I hope... Ahem...

But let's finish this one now that we've started...

You tend to believe lots of silly stuff about yourself. Like you can't learn to drive. It will take you longer. A lot longer. But you will.

You also believe you can't cope with the hard stuff in life. There will be hard stuff, sadly. See above. But, guess what?  You will actually cope okay. It won't be easy, but you will be okay in the end. I promise.

And Nessie dear, you will always be the most quiet, shy person in the room. You are never going to be loud, bubbly and outgoing. There is no magic age when you will 'come out of your shell'. It's not going to happen. And it's okay. It really is.  As Oscar Wilde said: "Be yourself; everyone else is taken."

Also remember this:

You don't have to like everyone you meet and they don't have to like you.

I repeat:

You don't have to like everyone you meet and they don't have to like you. Liberating, isn't it?

Also this:

You wouldn't worry about what everyone thought of you if you knew how seldom they did.

And most of all: your mental health is always more important than what someone may think of you. 

There is something else about you that is different***. Something beyond just being shy. Not bad, just different.  I was going to tell you, but I won't. There is a reason you won't find this out until later. You're not ready.

But when you do find out, I want you to seriously re-define what success in life really is - for you. And STOP, once and for all, comparing yourself with super outgoing, non-different (for want of a better term) people.

Oh, and if any of your teachers/relatives/friends ever mention that they think you're good at writing, there could be a chance they're actually not putting you on. So have a go. Just write. Something. Anything.

Even a boring as batshit blog is a start. What the hell's a blog?  You'll find out.

Sincerely,

Your 45 year old self. 

PS. You're really not going to listen to me about that mullet-perm are you? Oh well, I tried. Sigh. 

*TES = Tragic Eighties Syndrome
** In late 2015 I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. 
***In 2011 I was diagnosed with ASD formerly known as Asperger's Syndrome. 

Linking up for Soft Landings.


What would you say to your 16 year old self? Besides any future lottery numbers...

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Where do I begin?

Beginnings are HARD.

Image credit: https://www.loishermann.com/year-new-beginnings/

Writing one for this post is proving to be problematic. It's Monday (a bit of the old Captain Obvious there) and the beginning of another week full of exciting things. Using exciting in the sense of rather ordinary. Additionally, another week ended in which I did not suddenly become a millionaire. RUDE. Because I was all set to begin my new life of luxury. 

And while we're on the subject of beginnings, which we are. 
Just an FYI there. Because I do tend to waffle and have a short attention span.  I can't promise I won't meander onto another subject mid paragraph...

What were we talking about again? Oh, yeah. Beginnings. 

Life began for me one balmy day on January 15th 1971. Well, I assume it was balmy. I don't actually remember. That would be pretty impressive if I could, but I can't even remember five minutes ago let alone the day I was born. However, it's a fair guess, 
considering that January is summer time in the good old land of Oz. Also known as Australia. Which is where I was born. Each birthday I do remember has always been hideously hot. 

In a surprising coincidence I was born in a hospital in the same suburb where I currently live 45 years later. Yes, I've gone far in life. Winning! 

According to my Mum I was rather reluctant to leave the cosy cocoon of her womb. She spent hours and HOURS in labour. I finally arrived at around 6 pm. Just in time for dinner. Typical. 

Throughout my life I've shown a distinct lack of interest in beginning each day. Read that as I hated getting out of bed. Mum would be calling me and trying to wake me. When I finally surfaced I was grumpy and surly. Beware anyone who committed the heinous act of glancing sideways at me. Especially my brother. 

"Muuuuuum!" I would wail "Mark's LOOKING at me!"

As an adult I'm still not a morning person. I never spring out of bed eager to begin my day. 

In 1976 I began kindergarten. I remember clutching a red suitcase, unimpressed by the proceedings. 

Many years later I was terrified of the new beginning called high school. Even more scared when it ended. I had no idea what I wanted to do when I grew up. Still don't. 

But I trudged off to TAFE and a couple of years later I finally began working. It was a shaky start and I never really found my footing career wise. Enter Mickey Blue Eyes and the beginning of being a wife and then a mother. 


Without a doubt the scariest beginning was my breast cancer diagnonsense. I began the most challenging ride of my life. And now it's all over and yet only just begun.The start of a 'new kind of normal'. Adjusting to life as a breast cancer survivor. Have I mentioned that that I don't really like pink?  Yes, I WILL survive. Now let's all break into a rousing chorus of the old Gloria Gaynor hit.

Hang on, I prefer The Carpenters. And this song fits in with the theme of the post. Sorry, I couldn't help myself. 

I even tried to write an eloquent and deep poem about beginnings full of  my thoughts and feelings and shit. Totally nailed the shit part.

Check it out:


This poem needs to have a snappy beginning
To hook you and have you instantly grinning
Something unique, using words to entice
To make you read on, and then read it twice

So why do I sit and just stare at the screen?
How do I begin? And what do I mean?
There must be interesting words I can write
To make you a fan of this glorious site

All I have to do is simply commence
Just tap away, I don't have to make sense
Think about all the beginnings in my life
As a daughter, a sister, a friend and a wife

Even then my life had only just begun
When I was expecting son number one
The start of this thing called being a mother
Then soon I welcomed his cute baby brother

A family of two had now become four
But wait, said fate, there has to be more
Alas. our dear baby boy number three
Didn't survive, it just wasn't to be

Dismal days with housework a bore
The joyful birth of boy number four
Along the way, many shaky starts
Fears and struggles with heavy hearts

But for every beginning, there is an end
To make way for change and start again
Seasons change, days come and go
Learning to live with this constant flow

Decisions to make, life is curious
Emotions change, joyful then furious
Bored, elated, forlorn or excited
Impatient, determined, defeated, delighted
Battles fought and ultimately won
Playing The Carpenters We've Only Just Begun

Beginnings are hard, but so is the end
I fear you may never read here again
Through all our beginnings we're never alone
And that is the end of this woeful poem.



You're welcome. 

Linking up for Life This Week.

How do you feel about beginnings? 

Which song do you think of? 

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When I'm Sad I...

It happens to everyone. The blues. The 'blahs'. I'm not talking about clinical depression. Just the ordinary ups and downs that everyone has from time to time.

I must confess it's been a bit of a hard old slog for the last year. Cancer and chemotherapy and radiation will do that to a person, strangely enough. I know! I'm supposed to be positive all the time! What am I like? 

When I'm busy being a sooky la la I do the following things:

General moping, pouting and sighing and 'blahing'. Yes, blahing is totally a verb. I do it all the time. Well, not all the time. Just every 28 days or so for a number of years, for some strange reason. 

There is a tendency for me to lose interest in stuff  that I like, such as blogging. It would be preferable if I lost interest in eating. This always seems to happen to characters in books and movies. They go through heartbreak or misfortune and are totally uninterested in food. Never happens to me. Which leads me to my next point...

I eat all my feelings. They taste suspiciously like cake. When they don't taste like cake, they taste like chocolate. Weird. 


As I have mentioned before, I'm not the world's greatest talker. Not even when I'm in a quite jovial mood. I know what you're thinking. But yes, it does happen. Its just that you might not notice due to my resting bitch face. 

So you can imagine my aversion to being verbal when I'm all morose and moody. Therefore if I don't answer the phone, or frantically indicate to Mickey Blue Eyes that I'm not here if he happens to answer the phone, don't take it personally. 

Image credit:https://www.facebook.com/survivingsanity/

All of social media and the entire world seems to be mocking me. The sensible thing to do would be to back away from the internet, but apparently I'm a masochist. 

However, I always manage to get myself out of my little rut. 

Here are some strategies I use:

• Watching stand up comedy on Youtube. 

• Watching my favourite feel good TV shows. I'm partial to a bit of Miranda at the moment. I know she's not everyone's cup of tea, but I quite like the goofiness. SUCH FUN! 

• Listening to music. A lot of people think that most Carpenters music is a bit sappy and miserable: "I'll say goodbye to love, no one ever cared if I should live or die..." and all that. Well, I guess they're right. But I'm weird, so it's still my happy place. Whatever works, I say. 

• Exercise, exercise, exercise! I haven't been as diligent with this one lately. A kick up the arse is desperately needed. Oftentimes it's hard to get motivated when I'm in the doldrums. Plus, I don't feel like leaving the house, because then I might have to actually talk or smile at people *shudders*. My strategy for this is to make myself exercise to a quick Youtube video for ten or fifteen minutes. 

• Write/scribble in journals (but offline because no one needs to read my moaning). In fact I'm kind of addicted to notebooks and journals. This is my most recent one: 

• Patting my dog. I don't know why, but whenever I'm feeling sulky sensitive or need to unwind, some time with our resident pooch Cookie, always puts me in a better mood. This also works for my boys (except Mr 15, who isn't as much of a dog person). Apparently studies show that having a pet is good for your mental health. I'm far too lazy to go and do the actual research, but I'm pretty sure I've heard this. Look, just google it yourself, OKAY? HMPH.

• Cuddle my boys. Well, it's mainly the 7 year old who'll cuddle and occasionally Mr 12.  I better enjoy those cuddles because I don't know how much longer they'll last. Sigh. 

• Talk to someone. Yes, this is totally contradictory. I don't like talking. But sometimes even I have to force myself. It can be hard to find the right shrink (I always say shrink because I forget how to spell the proper word) or counselor that you feel comfortable with, but when you do it's helpful. As long as I don't have to do so (talk) all the time. 

• Wait it out. Remind yourself that it's just one of those days and it will pass. A 'blah' day.

Blah, blah, blah, blah. And even more blah.

Because BLAH.

Double blah.

Triple blah. 

Quadruple blah.

A billion blahs.

ALL. THE. BLAHS.

Karen Carpenter summed it up:

What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothing is really wrong
Feeling like I don't belong

Blah, blah, blah something about rainy days (which DON'T get me down, oddly enough)

What I feel has come and gone before 
No need to talk it out
We know what it's all about...

Yep, It does come and go. Just like all moods.

Me being awesome! 

• And when it does pass I put on some smart clothes and a bit of lippy and decide to be awesome. Because I am. So ner! 

Image credit: http://www.snorgtees.com/when-i-m-sad-i-stop-being-sad-and-be-awesome-instead

Right, that's it from me. I'm off to be awesome and listen Carpenters music. Nope. I don't have the blahs. That's just what I do in any mood. You know, just for something different! Later!

Linking up for I Must Confess. 

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My most treasured item

There are certain items that I treasure. Most of them are jewellery. Of course I am particularly fond of my wedding and engagement rings. I chose an engagement ring with an extremely high set solitaire diamond. I expected that I would probably go around catching and bumping it on everything. Surprisingly, this isn't an issue.

Possibly because I rarely wear them these days.  It's so much easier to pick-up without them. Just kidding. As if I would ever have any trouble picking up if I wanted too! I just don't bother because it wouldn't be fair to all the single ladies. Oh yeah, and because of the whole happily married and PASSIONATELY in love with Mickey Blue Eyes thing. Yeah, that. 

Jokes aside, the real reason I don't wear them much is because I wake up in the middle of the night with pins and needles in my hand and fingers. Consequently, I take the rings off and then forget to put them back on. Oops. 

Anyway, thinking about this topic makes me realise that I don't really value 'stuff'. I have my phone and I share a lap-top. But there aren't a lot of items that spring to mind. Only one.

My Carpenters key ring. 

I purchased this beloved acquisition from the official Carpenters fan club when it was still in existence. The only thing is, I have come under scorn, creating some controversy among two other fans, due to the fact that I actually use it as a key-ring.

Apparently you are supposed to have it framed in gold and worship it from a distance. 

Along with the key-ring, I also bought a Carpenters address book. I actually wrote in it. Oops. 

When I originally purchased these items I did not know that there would come a time when I would be able to sell them on Evilbay. Plus, I've never had any intention of selling them, anyway. But I certainly could have looked after them better. 

My mugger would have been impressed
with this wallet photo. 

I also had a little wallet photograph and a fan club membership card. They were proudly kept in my purse. One day I was mugged as a teenager and had my purse snatched. I was DEVASTATED. I'm pretty sure the mugger was, too. He only got about ten bucks and my lousy (to him) Carpenters memorabilia. That THAT, nasty mugger! 

Additionally, (just to confirm my weirdness) I own a tiny segment of red shag pile 1970's carpet. What's so special about this? Well, it originates from the music room of the former home of the Carpenters in Downey, California. I have a piece of carpet that Karen and Richard Carpenter actually walked on and played their drums (Karen) and keyboards (Richard) on! 

I keep in it my beside table drawer and take it out and stroke it lovingly from time to time. Um, not really. I do keep it in my drawer, but I don't stroke it. That would just be weird. And we've already established that my obsession isn't weird or creepy AT ALL. Ahem. 

The infamous red carpet can be seen in this room . I'm sure if I had one of the
gold albums on the wall it would be worth more!

Truthfully, I don't know what to do with it, but I can't seem to bring myself to throw it out because of the Carpenters connection. Oh well. I'm sure people have kept stranger things. Shut up. 

It would appear that I'm not really a material girl despite living in a material World.  Other than my Carpenters stuff, I have many books, but nothing extremely valuable. I don't really shop until I drop. Unless, it's at Vinnies. After all, what is wrong with being a cheapskate economical? 

Naturally I do have several trinkets and hand made cards from the boys. These were usually made at school or purchased from the Mother's Day stall for a few bucks. But I still have to keep them. They're priceless. Even the rather eye-catching lime green and gold clown figurine Mr 14 gave me when he was only five or so. 

Additionally, at some point we may require a second house to display our collection of soccer trophies. Never having played any sports growing up. this is something I've had to resign myself to. 

So there you have it.  Those are my most treasured items. That is all for today. I must go and stroke my shag carpet. Err... or something...

Linking up for I Must Confess , Open Slather and Mummy Mondays. 


What is your most treasured item?

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The A - Z Of Me

A is for absent,  because I always seem to be absent from this space lately. Oops.  I’m an absent-minded sort of person as well. A is also for Asperger’s which I was diagnosed with at age 40 in 2011.

B is for boring as batshit. I’m even boring myself with this blog let alone anyone else which is why I’ve been so conspicuously absent. B is also for my three boys aged 12 (almost 13), 10 and 5, who are anything but boring.

C is for cake and Carpenters: my two obsessions. C is also for classy. Clearly I am.  Classy, that is. Shut up.

D is for daydreaming because I’m constantly ‘off with the pixies’ and a space cadet.

E is for effort. I find everything in life to require monumental effort while I’d much rather be daydreaming while eating cake and listening to the Carpenters. It’s weird that people won’t pay you do so. Hmph.  E is also for exercise endorphins. I have to force myself to do the former daily in order to achieve the latter. An even louder HMPH! . Did I mention effort? Why can’t you get endorphins by sleeping?

F is for forgetful. In fact, the only reason I’ve survived on this planet for 43 and a half years is because eating is the one thing I don’t forget. Which brings me to the other F: FOOD.  Some people eat to live, I live to eat. I mentioned that I was classy.

G is for great, galloping, gargantuan, garrulous guacamole. Oh okay, I couldn't think of anything for G, but that's pretty impressive alliteration there, right?

H is for hope. I’m hoping I’ll come up with something interesting. Nope. Sorry.

I is for Infertility. Unbelievably now, there was a time when I thought I’d never be a mother. My boys were all miracle babies. I is also for Introvert. I take introversion to a whole new level. I’m so introverted that I make other introverts seem like loud, exhibitionist extroverts. At least I'm good at something. Thanks to  Susan Cain we’re all the rage now. Introverts are awesome and all that. So ner to all you lowly extroverts.

J is for the juxtaposition of two of my favourite things. Read on...

K is for Karen. Carpenter, of course. I sort of like her a bit. Ahem. I realise this is just repeating part of C but I couldn’t think of anything else for K, okay? It’s ironic that two of my favourite things are food and the World’s most famous anorexic but I like to mix things up. This is what I was referring to above with the whole juxtaposition thing. I'm not really sure if that's a word to be honest but it sounds impressive.

L is for Lego, the evil nemesis in my life. This Cancer of toys seems to multiply and spread to every corner of my house while I run around trying fruitlessly to keep it one area. Sigh.

M is for Micky Blue Eyes because I should probably give him a mention seeing as we are coming up to our 19^th anniversary later this year.

N is for noise which I don’t like very much. N is also for Ness which is what most people call me and led to the title of this blog. I’m so original.

0 is for original. See ‘N’ above.

P is for People, those weird, scary creatures. I find them simultaneously fascinating and terrifying. But, as Barbra testifies, people who make people are the cluckiest people in the world. Or something. Therefore, I’m glad I made my little ‘tribe’ of people where I belong.

Q is for quiet. I have always been quiet. If I had a dollar for the amount of times I’ve heard expressions like: “You’re the quietest person I’ve ever met!” or “You should come out of your shell!” I would be richer than Gina Rinehart.  My greatest skill is the impressive ability to just shut right up. This is a skill that more people should consider developing. Shut up. Literally. It’s not that hard. I do it all the time.

R is for reading. I’ve always been a book worm. I’m happier with a bag full of dollar books from Vinnies than a closet full of designer clothes or shoes. R is also for ranga. I am one. The fact that I need a little..erm..’help’ (hair dye) to remain one these days is completely irrelevant.

S is for scotch which is a favourite drink.

T is for tea which is my favourite non-alcoholic drink.

U is for unicorn because I am a majestic unicorn. This meme says so. So ner. See also: R

V is for Vanessa because it’s my name obviously. Duh. Everyone calls me Ness, though. Except Mick and my parents who’ve stuck with the Vanessa thing. The boys call me Mum when they’re not calling me other things.  Apparently Mum originally wanted to call me Rachel or Rebecca but Dad wasn’t as keen. They briefly decided on the name Monique until Mum saw Vanessa Redgrave in the movie Camelot and thought she and her name were beautiful. Therefore I became a Vanessa. Thankfully, as I don’t think I look like a Monique but I look exactly like a young, beautiful Vanessa Redgrave. The resemblance is uncanny really.

Me

Vanessa Redgrave. It's like we're twins...

 

W is for weird. I’m quite weird. But you already knew that.

X is for x-ray. I’ve had one or two in my time which isn’t very interesting but I’ve never played a Xylaphone so that’ll have to do.

Y is for “Y’s a crooked letter and Z’s no better!” which is something my Mum used to say to my brother and I when we were children in reply to our constant round of “Why’s?”

Z is for the sound of everyone snoring by this point. My cure for insomnia is now complete. You’re welcome.

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

                                            Who can honestly think of anything about themselves for X, Y and Z??

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