For some one who can be terribly self absorbed, I am certainly not into the whole selfie phenomenon. I suspect it's partly because I'm shy and an introvert, but mainly I'm just a lazy technophobe with a dodgy old phone. I have no idea how to disguise double chins and add filters. Shrugs. I don't really understand the whole get your boobs out on the internet and no make up selfies lauded as 'brave'. I must be extremely brave if that's the case... (Almost) no make up is my normal way of life these days. Anyway, I've managed to take a few over the last year or two, even when I was going through cancer treatment. My bald noggin scared off one or two people. I lost a couple of 'likes' after posting it. But as the saying goes: it's like the trash took itself out. Apparently it was National Selfie Day the other day. I didn't even know that was a thing. Thinking about it, my boys appear to not be into selfies either. It would appear we are a very introverted family. The other thing is, I kind of have resting bitch face. Or something. I don't have much expression even when I feel really happy. Having said all of that, I suppose I do take in interest in other folks selfies on social media. It's always nice to see someone else's smiling face, but not so much my own resting bitch face (which will henceforth be known as RBF). I know I should take more selfies, it doesn't matter what I look like. Double chins, wrinkles, RBF, the whole shebang. Otherwise my funeral will rock around (hopefully many years from now!) and there will only be ancient photos from years ago available for my kids to remember me. My mum actually bought me a selfie stick some time ago and I never used it. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure where I put it. Weird. Hmmmm, where is that thing... Anyway, a quick perusal of my Facebook photos shows me that my selfies have revolved around the sad saga of my hair. My tresses appear to have had an entire life of their own. See below.
THE TRAGIC TALE OF NESS'S TRESSES IN SELFIES
Me with 'normal' hair a few years ago.
Me when I decided to become a Hare Krishna. Just kidding! Me during chemo last year.
Me being smokin' hawt in a beanie. Also during chemo last year.
My Nanna Ness look when my hair started to grow back.
And finally...
Me a few weeks ago.
Now you can see why I'm not into selfies. They're all blurry and just ghastly and frightfully horrid and all those other expressions out of Enid Blyton books. Any tips on how to make them less blurry when you have a crap phone? Plus, how do you hide double chins and add filters? Oh, that's right... I could just google that myself. Oops. Will do. As you were. What are your thoughts about selfies?
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?
It's never been any secret that books are one of my most favourite things in the whole wide world. As far as I'm concerned, you can never have too many books. Also, it's not hoarding if it's books. Because I say so. And that settles the matter.
Ever since I was a child I always had a book permanently attached to my hand. Shame it's now often a phone... but that's another story...
Even so, there are certain books that failed to enthral me. It's even more puzzling when they're books or authors that are so beloved and popular. It leaves you wondering if there was something you missed. Is it possible that you read the same book as others? It's a very curious thing. Let me assure you, I am the furthest thing from a reading snob. Read what you like, I say. If it's some sort of Game Of Thrones fan fiction, who am I to judge?
I've gone from a passionate love of Enid Blyton (who probably seems unhinged and secretly racist to today's kidlets), to the completely stupid Sweet Valley High series as a teen. Then onto reading Mills and Boon romances, then a tonne of dubious 'chick lit' and implausible thrillers. My main purpose in reading is pure escapism. So there will never be any judgement from me.
However, there have been a few books I just don't get. Without further ado, here are three books I consider to be overrated:
THE SLAP BY SOME DUDE WITH AN UNPRONOUNCEABLE NAME
Yeah, that dude. How do you pronounce it?
I read it last year because I'd heard good things about it. It sounded like an interesting premise: a group of friends at a suburban barbeque where an adult slaps another person's child.
To be honest, the only part of the book I enjoyed was the description of the food at the barbeque. Which probably says a lot about me... Ahem...
It seemed to me that every single character in this book was thoroughly unlikable. Maybe I'm too much of a Pollyanna or something, but I need to feel like I actually like at least one character to care about what happens to them at the end of the novel.
Another thing that disturbed me was some of sex scenes. In one, a female character fantasises that she's being raped. What the...? I don't have a copy of the novel anymore to quote the scene, but it bothered me. Maybe some women like it rough, and good luck to them, but rape? Really?
Also, I'm wondering if there is really quite so much drug taking among the Australian middle classes? It seemed like every character was into drugs. I dunno, I guess I just live in a bubble... In Sydney's western suburbs surrounded by druggies and meth labs... Yet I've never taken an illegal drug in my entire life. Go figure.
Anyway, I'm sure this Christos dude doesn't care what I think. He's too busy winning literary awards and writing his next best-selling, critically acclaimed masterpiece, while I'm sitting here writing this crappy blog. Sniff.
WUTHERING HEIGHTS BY EMILY BRONTE
Yes, you read that right. I am really going to call this classic of literature for nearly 200 years overrated. Confession: I've never actually read the entire novel. I've tried several times during my life and I just couldn't do it. And I LOVE AND WORSHIP the Bronte sisters! Jane Eyre is one my favourite novels of all time. I could read it again and again. But not this.
I know that Emily Bronte is considered to be some sort of incredible brooding genius; and she probably was. It's not her, it's me. For so many years I figured I had to force myself to read this, because it's such a classic. But you know what? NO. I just can't. Besides, I know what happens at end, anyway.
SPOILER ALERT: Heathcliff and Cathy die and their ghosts wander about the moors and haunt people, and then Kate Bush writes a song about it and dances about in a field or something.... Yeah, that. Overrated. Moving on.
I recommend the Kate Bush song/video NOT the novel.
ANYTHING BY JODI PICOULT
I thought I'd give this author a go because she is so incredibly popular. She's sold enough novels to fill the Atlantic ocean or the entire cosmos or the Sahara desert or... You get the picture. She's sold a shit tonne of novels. I guess people like her. I don't. The first time I tried to read one of her novels was many years ago. I picked up a novel called The Pact. It was about a suicide pact between two young people. However, I wasn't in a very good head space at the time, due to having lost a baby. Therefore, I decided that reading a book about suicide wasn't a good idea. Fast forward several years and I spotted another Jodi Picoult novel called Plain Truths on a sale table. I figured I'd give her another go.
As I vaguely recall, the plot centred around a hotshot lawyer, who somehow ends up defending an Amish girl, accused of murdering her newborn baby. Look, it was actually a good story, but it just went on and on and ON. By the middle of the novel I'd guessed the ending, anyway. So it just seemed superfluous to have hundreds more pages. I ended up skipping ahead to the ending, and my guess was right. Personally, I wouldn't bother reading any more Jodi Picoult novels, but as I mentioned, she is SO popular and famous. I guess it's just me. Shrugs.
A google search shows me that this novel was made into a TV film in 2004, starring Mariska Hargitay. It might be worth a watch, rather than wasting days or weeks on the plodding novel.
So there you have it. Three novels I thought were overrated. Then of course there is 90 percent of the entire self-help, non-fiction genre...and anything with vampires... and the Fifty Shades series.. but I'll be here forever...
What about you? Have you read any of the above novels?
Greetings and salutations! Here we are again on another fabulous Friday! Which means it's time for Friday Reflections.
I have to chosen to write a post for the prompt: write a post about making mistakes.This may be a mistake... You decide.
I make lots of little scatter brained mistakes on a daily basis. In fact, I came to the conclusion that I am some sort of hapless doddering Mrs Bean character long ago. Read it about here. It's funny to read about... Well, if I didn't laugh I'd cry... Now it's time for a random list for no particular reason:
LIST OF LITTLE MISTAKES I MAKE IN EVERYDAY LIFE
Putting the wrong clothes away in the wrong drawers.
Leaving the shopping list at home.
Forgetting to even write a list.
Writing a list, then leaving it at home.
Taking the list, but still forgetting to buy essential items written on it.
Getting the dodgy trolley at the supermarket.
Choosing the slowest check out.
Forgetting to replace the loo roll (I gather this is generally more of a dude thing, but I'm special...)
Buying/borrowing more books before I've read the ones I've got... No wait. This is NEVER a mistake!
Forgetting the pizza that was in the oven... (on the plus side that means I burned a bazillion calories in just half an hour! BOOM TISH)
Picking up the wrong kind of schnitzels at the supermarket (the ones with corn instead of plain), an act of vile, callous and unforgivable EVIL as far as Mr 8 is concerned.
Forgetting where I put my glasses/keys/phone five minutes ago....
You get the picture. This list could go on and on and ON. And that list hasn't even covered other past mistakes, such as my infamous mullet-perm of 1987, and the time I thought wearing shirts that looked like table cloths was attractive. See below. What was I thinking?
BIG MISTAKE
However, the biggest mistake I am currently making is this: Not getting enough exercise. Followed closely by eating too much. OOPS.
This in turn causes me to a) gain weight, and b) become more prone to anxiety.
This is also after choosing the word MOVE as my one word for this year. Oh dear. So, yesterday I was at the shops and I had a big, wobbly, stupid, batshit crazy panic attack. Not fun. I haven't had one for ages, so it's very disconcerting when that bastard pops up. Well, it can go f#*k itself. I am making myself move again. I've always found exercise is one of the best strategies to combat it.
As 'Anne' says, tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it. Or you know, fresh with no CAKES in it. Since my mistakes often seem to feature baked goods. Ahem.
Now I am signing off, because I really and truly need to get up and MOVE. What mistakes do you make? Do you learn from them?
Greetings, Earthlings. How are we all? Well? Happy it's Friday? Bursting with enthusiasm and joy? All of the above? Nice. I'm not. Sniff.
Nah, I'm good. Just have a pesky old headache, that's all. Nothing a good cup of coffee and some ibuprofen won't fix. Which segues neatly into today's topic:
TEA!
I know. I said coffee before, but I like to surprise you with twists and unexpected turns. Since my head is pounding, I'm taking the easy option with the lovely old list-post. Why not?
Here are ten reasons I love tea:
1. Tea warms me up on a cold winter's day.
2. Tea never talks. I can sip it in blissful silence.
3. Tea comes in convenient bags, with or without strings.
4. Tea is one of the simple pleasures in life which is supposedly good for you, due to its antioxidants or something. I'm far to lazy and headachey to do the proper research. Shut up.
5. You can drink it in lovely, pretty, dainty cups with saucers and pretend you're a character on Downton Abbey. Just me?
6. Tea is the perfect companion for CAKE. Unless you prefer coffee. That works, too.
7. You can have it in a pot or a cup. There is something so comforting about pouring it from the pot into those dainty cups. See above. This time you can pretend you're one of the servants on Downton Abbey, fantasising about spilling the scalding liquid on snooty Lady Mary's frightfully expensive gown. Again, just me?
8. Cup of tea + good book + rainy day = Perfection, with a capital P. It's the simple things in life, people.
9. Tea fixes everything. Have you ever noticed how in the middle of a crisis or something emotionally draining, the first thing people do is pop the kettle on for a refreshing brew? Or is that just in those historical saga type novels I read from time to time...?
10. Tea provides the illusion that I'm much less socially awkward than I am. I'll take my small talk with tea, thanks. At least that way, when I can't think of anything to say, I can sip away. Luckily, I am not prone to spilling hot drinks or this theory could go awry quite easily...
And there you have it. The ten reasons I love tea. Oh, and I do like the taste of it. That helps, too!
Welcome to another wondrous blog post from yours truly. Admit it, it's the highlight of your day every time you delight in my meandering musings. You're welcome! Now, today I have chosen the topic of odd numbers. This may seem odd. It's meant to! As you know, I always like to be cutting edge. Forever tackling the big issues. Apparently, there are some folk who simply CANNOT BEAR odd numbers. You know who you are. Sorry if this post upsets you. Look away, NOW! For the rest of you. You're in for a treat. Or something... This topic got me thinking. As in, over-thinking about pointless important stuff... because that's how I roll. It suddenly dawned on me. I was born on the 15th of January 1971. All odd numbers. Fifteen. One. Seventy-one. Maybe that explains why I'm odd? Cue weird creepy music in the background...
My mother is certain that I wasn't exactly ready to be born on that day. She believes they got her due date wrong. Anyway, she was induced and I reluctantly made my way into this crazy old world on that momentous day. So perhaps I CHOSE the fifteenth... Okay, I'm getting carried away now. I'm not one of these 'everything happens for reason' annoying hippy drippy types. There are several people in my family who have birthdays on the 15th of various months. Mine is on the 15th of January. My middle son is the 15th of March. One of my nephews is on the 15th of May and my Dad on the 15th of November. So I've come to the conclusion that only fabulous people are born on the 15th. I found this interesting quote, allegedly by William Shakespeare. Quotes on the internet are always legit, right?
Interesting, because 13 is meant to be unlucky. I also found this article which explains all the complicated biblical reasons for this superstition. I am too much of a heathen to be bothered reading into all that. However, I noticed that there is a theory that if your name has 13 letters you're cursed. Stupidly, I found myself doing the mental calculation. Yep, Vanessa Connor has 13 letters. Therefore I am thankful for the following facts: a) My full name is Vanessa FAYE Connor, and b) I am NOT superstitious AT ALL. Nope. No way. Gulps. Meanwhile, the house we live in is also an odd number. Mickey Blue Eyes was born on the 11th of August 1963. So, kinda sorta odd. We were married on the 11th of November 1995. Again; totally odd. Consequently, I would say that 11 has turned out to be another odd and meaningful number for me. For the record, when I say odd, I mean quirky, offbeat and TOTALLY AWESOME not straaaaaaange ODD. Us? No way! In other numerical news, Mickey Blue Eyes is spectacular when it comes to numbers. This is like having some sort of magical powers to me. That, and understanding maps. I'm hopeless. Forgeddaboudit. In fact, I will forget about it. I've forgotten every single useful thing I have ever learned in life. But I'm cute, am I not? Some people use their 'special' numbers as their lotto numbers. This is what my parents do. And every now again they do win! Teensy amounts like 27 bucks 50. I don't normally go in for this sort of thing, but I did some lazy googling comprehensive research into Numerology. This is what I discovered about the birth number 15: With a 15 birth date number (the life path number of a numerology chart), it means the events and circumstances of the person's life tends to relate to home, health, harmony, nurturing, and beliefs.
As an overview, the numerology number 15 represents a composition containing the ideas of:
Family
Harmony
Exploration
Curiosity
Idealism
I must admit, this does sound somewhat like me, even though my basic conclusion is that numerology is a load of bollocks. Oh well, it's a fun and interesting load of bollocks, not unlike horoscopes. Anyways, I think I am done being odd. Snorts. As if...! After all, normal is overrated! Do any numbers have special meaning to you?
Good morning, dear people! Today I will be talking about learning. Pacifically, how I learn best. Except I meant 'specifically'. I have learnt that much. I'm so funny! Humorous type funny. Also, you know, funny... Anyway, onto the learning thing. Should be a short post. Related: I never learn. Just kidding. I do. Sort of Well, sometimes. For example, the specifically vs pacifically thing. However, I'm asking the intriguing question: how do I learn best? This is because it's today's prompt for Life This Week.If it were up to me I'm more likely to ask the question: can today be cancelled so we can all go back to bed? No? HMPH. I had to think about this, because to be honest I'm not really sure how I learn best. Most likely through reading. But how did I learn to read?
I was always a patchy learner. This is due to the fact that I hyper focus on things that interest me and completely tune out if they don't. I'm weird.
Additionally, I could still manage to bomb in exams. Even in subjects that interest me. It's a gift, people! Apparently, many autistic people are visual thinkers, but I tend to think mostly in language. Maybe a bit of both.
Unfortunately, I often tuned out when I was at school and missed entire lessons. There was also those occasions when I read a sneaky book under the desk, but we won't talk about that... I can't focus or concentrate for long periods, or focus on more than one thing at a time.
If I'm given verbal instructions I forget, so having stuff written down or reading something works best for me. My mum taught me to read by sounding the words out. (which answers my earlier question...). I seemed to be a natural reader and speller. When it came to other subjects like maths and science I just tuned out. I simply didn't care. Who knows what goes on in this brain of mine. It's a vacuum up there.
These days I'm not involved in any sort of formal learning and I have to admit I struggle big time to be of assistance with my kids homework or assessment tasks. It's very embarrassing and disconcerting.
Occasionally, I have these awful dreams where I'm back at school and/or having to do exams. I always wake up in a panic. I guess the academic world wasn't meant for me. Also, I always knew emphatically that I could never be a teacher. I admire and respect people who are because it's beyond my capabilities. Thinking about it, I have come to the conclusion that I'm mostly a slow learner. It's always taken me longer than others to do certain things, such as learning to drive. I was never the type of a person who could pick things up easily and bluff my way through assignments or exams. I had a friend at school who could do that. She would put in minimal effort, often not even turning up for most of the school year and then still come dux almost every year. It was really quite extraordinary. Of course I do love to read. So I guess reading is my preferred way of learning. Besides, what I lack in academic ability I make up for by being stupendously GORGEOUS.
Um, I just compared myself to a dog... But luckily dogs are awesome. All good! What about you? How do you learn best? Are you really, really, ridiculously good looking?
Hello! I'm Ness. Mum of three, Karen Carpenter obsessed nerd and quiet, shy, Aspergirl. Usually found in my own little World...Which is why I invented one. Thanks for stopping by!
