It’s just taken me about 14 days to write this blog post. It’s been open and chipped away at for two weeks. Every time I start, I stop. Or lose my trail of thought. Or you know, find something else to do. Doesn’t bode well for the rest of the year, considering I was thinking I should have ‘focus’ as my word for the year.
Like the rest of the world I kind of knew everything wouldn’t magically get better when the calendar flicked over to 2021, but damn weren’t we all HOPING it would. Speaking of calendars, if you need to save some cash you can reuse an old 2010 as the days and dates finally line up. Dig through those old desk drawers.
It’s easy to focus on what a shit-show 2020 was. Fires, floods, plague, COVID, isolation, loneliness, online uni group work. COVID has been awful. People are sick, dying and fighting over the last roll of toilet paper and can of spam. We’ve seen the worst in humanity and let’s face it ourselves. Face masks are not a good look on anyone. At the post office this morning (wearing a cap, sunnies and face mask) I got called “gentleman” as in “let the gentleman go first”. Note to self: I really need to pluck my 4 stubborn neck pube/chin hairs. COVID needs to go.
However, what if instead of focusing on the bad news and mental toughness that 2020 brought with it what if we look for the slight tiny pieces of good news and celebrate:
Trump won’t be President for the next 4 years.
People are starting to recognise the climate crisis, it’s getting some momentum. There has been a big acceleration in countries and businesses making climate commitments.
Africa is now free of polio.
More people turned to health, vegetable gardening, and prioritising family time.
People showed empathy, a sense of community.
We collectively S-L-O-W-E-D down a bit.
We explored our neighbourhoods and went on holidays in our own states.
Workers are getting the job done even at home. Business continued efficiently, productively and with higher engagement.
Personally, I reached my goal of a full half study load, if that makes sense – 4 subjects completed with distinction. I even managed to not lose my shit at group work online. Fun fact: I loathe group work. For one subject this year I was sitting on 92% (well into high distinction territory), but after a group assignment that got 55% I ended up just scraping into the bottom end of a distinction. I could write a whole post separately on it. My goals for this year are the same to complete 4 subjects, give myself a break, stop hating myself so much and try to focus.
Remember, a thousand years ago when I last wrote a blog post? I said that during my uni holidays, I wanted to hike, read and write. Well, one out of three ain’t bad. But 33% is not a pass in anyone’s language and whilst I did some decent hikes, I failed miserably on the other two.
It’s not completely my fault I’ve been covid-tose. Like being comatose but less hospitally and more home and just wanting to sleep for 2 days straight, and every afternoon and night. Boring I know. What is it about being at home all the time that just makes you exhausted? Don’t know. Have you had it too?
It’s August. The month of my birth and in my neck of the wood, the pits of winter. It’s always darkest before dawn and it’s always coldest right before the springing up of spring.
It doesn’t snow much in Australia, the great Mt Kosciuszko is a mere 2228m, that’s about a quarter of Everest. Apparently if you want to go to Everest, you don’t even list Mt Kosi as an achievement. Too embarrassing. We get some snow. In the Blue Mountains west of Sydney, there is normally one ‘dump’ of a few centimetres every year. “People” lose their minds over it. “People” may be me.
It’s forecast to snow this week in the Blue Mountains – Thursday, Friday and Saturday down to 600m. Woodford is 609m, that’s only halfway up. I really want to go up there, but when there is a good chunk of snow they normally close the roads because we don’t know how to drive on ice. Fair enough. I don’t want my car wrecked. I may get the train instead.
2 weeks ago, I happened to be up in the mountains, hoping it would be cold enough to snow. I took a day off from studying and just being covidtose at home and did all my favourite things. Leura shops, breakfast somewhere nice, the Cultural Centre and Art Gallery. Bookshops. God, I love a bookshop. When I drove out of the carpark at Katoomba, I noticed sleet on the windscreen. Wet like rain, but with heavy ice crystals. I wondered if I got just a little bit higher, whether it would be snowing.
At Blackheath, it was still sleeting. Disappointed it was not snowing, but happy that at 4pm the bookshop was still open, I stopped the car and went in. Just me and the bookshop salesperson, as I wandered the aisles looking at everything from “What is Your Enneagram Personality” to “Cabin Porn” to “Sex Robots and Vegan Meat”, the salesperson came over to me and said “Look”, I turned around and it was SNOWING.
So I did what all sane normal people would do and stay in the bookshop where it was warm go outside, drive around on the newly icy roads taking photos and videos and playing with snow, and making soily snowballs and throwing them at trees.
How good is snow? It makes everything so beautiful, so clean, so fresh and new. Like a new start. Almost.
This time it was just a smattering of snow. Isn’t smattering a good word. Hopefully just a little preview of what’s to come this weekend. But geez it was fun.
Katoomba, Leura, Medlow Bath, Blackheath, Mount Victoria.
Over the long weekend, I took a few days away at my happy place. I hot footed it up to Katoomba, renting an AirBNB which was just the cutest little getaway cottage created out of a double garage.
In case you don’t know, the Blue Mountains suffered badly during the recent bushfires. Local businesses are asking for tourists to return to spend money in and enjoy the area again. The townships themselves were relatively unscathed by the fires. Heaps still to see and enjoy.
One of the things I love about the Blue Mountains is the arty and alternative vibe it has going on. It seems laid back and chilled. Plus you feel surrounded by the wilderness and never far from a decent view. Each evening walk, regardless of direction looks something like this:
Went to see the girls. Photographer Shannon Kumar @shannonkumarphotography (via Instagram)
Every year I think about making a tree change up to the Blue Mountains. I have always wanted to live there. Always. When I was looking to buy my first place when I was 24 I kept searching for places I could buy in Katoomba to live in and renovate. Houses back then were around $120K. When I was a kid my parents looked at houses in Springwood and were pretty keen on a red brick number near the highway. I was honestly devastated when we bought in Wentworthville instead. Devastated.
I eventually made a sensible decision and bought something in the northwest of Sydney that would be closer to work, amenities, friends and family. God, I wish I was more …. I don’t know… what’s the word…… spontaneous, visionary, adventurous, courageous?q You know what I mean. I wish I had the gumption (*™) to see this dream of mine come true.
Does anyone have any ideas about how I can live in Katoomba, but work in Sydney? Do you know anyone that combines a tree change with still working a normal 9-5? Do I rent a room during the week and live there Friday – Monday? Also how to manage uni as well. Just move and work out the details later?
Getting back to the original point of this post. If you are in need of a weekend away, or even fancy going from Sydney for a day spent sightseeing, quirky gift hunting and cafe-hopping. Here are a few of my favourite places:
You are at the airport. It’s 6:30 am. You woke up at 4:30 am. You haven’t even had a coffee. You have just arrived at the terminal. You are walking towards the security screening. Having long legs you are able to walk fairly fast. The late 40’s/early 50’s man behind you sees you walking ahead of him. How dare you. He speeds up to pass you. As he passes that he is no longer walking but has developed a sort of trot or jog to be able to get past you. His wheely bag is swaying side to side, one wheel off the ground. Success. He reaches the screening point just ahead of you. Later, you note that you are on the same flight.
What you have just witnessed is the behaviour of a typical middle-aged man-baby.
Pointless exercises that middle-aged men participate in to make them feel superior to everyone else around them.
Did that man arrive at his destination (Melbourne) any faster because he beat me to security? No. Did he miss out on his favourite seat on the plane? No. Did he miss out on the in-flight snacks? No. What he did by beating me to security was to make himself feel more superior to me, and thus trying to make me feel inferior to him.
On the way to the airport, along with the taxi’s that cut into the airport turning lane illegally at the last possible second, was a Pajero. Who also had to beat me into the line, and get to the carpark first. Guess who was driving it? That’s right. Man Baby. Middle Aged.
Middle-aged man babies are more often than not always lining up first to get onto the plane. When the gate is officially ‘open’ they clamber over everything and everyone to reach the line first. Lording it over everyone that being there first means that they are the most important.
Dudes – it’s allocated seating you’re not going to miss out.
They are nearly always aisle sitters. Who huff and puff and get annoyed when you arrive to claim your rightful window or middle seat.
They know the rules around luggage. Their wheely bags are the exact dimension to the mm as outlined by the airline and they pack to the nearest gram. 6.99kg exactly.
The overhead lockers are filled with typical man baby wheely bag with a suit jacket or similar carefully folded on top of or next to the wheely bag. Don’t even think about rearranging or they will spring up out of their seat to tell you that YOU need to move. As a side note, I like to slide my bag in gently enough that they don’t realise I’ve just got their suit jacket caught up in the filthy wheels of my bag. Then flash them a smile saying “Good Morning”.
Every square centimetre – filled with manbags. (Source)
When the food/drinks carts come by they order first. After all, they are superior and need to eat before you. There’s no such thing as ladies first at 30,000ft. They often frequent the toilet as soon after takeoff as possible. For some man-babies have prostate problems and can’t hold it for an hour.
If the middle seat is free they will claim it as their own, after all, their laptop bag having some space is far more important than your comfort.
If you are right next to one, they will manspread both their arms (taking over the entire shared armrest) and legs (often their knees are completely in the space ahead of you). The reason they do this is that they want you to think that they’ve got a huge amount of junk that needs airing out. You guessed it. Middle-aged man baby junk is more important than your comfort.
As soon as the plane lands their phone is back on before you’ve even left the runway. They jump up and out of their seats as soon as the fasten seat belt sign is turned off. They may be crouched over and crammed in but once you wait 5 minutes for the doors to open and then for 35 people to disembark ahead of you, congratulations Man Baby you got to your destination 1.3 seconds before the person in front of you.
If you don’t follow The Shovel – check them out. (Source)
Even hotels only cater to MAMBs – just turn on the tv. Fox Sports 1, Fox Sports 2, Fox Sports 3, Sky Racing 1, Sky Racing 2, Sky Racing 3.
Not all men blah blah blah I get it.
Please don’t get me started on MAMBIL (Middle-Aged Man Babies in Lycra), otherwise known as MAMILs (Middle Aged Men in Lycra). Man Babies who buy a bike worth the same amount as a car, and parade around showing off their sagging junk in skin-tight bike shorts.
Have you had any experiences with Middle-Aged Man Babies?
Wow! 2 months have gone since my last blog post. What’s been going on?
I shaved my head and raised money for charity
My sister and I raised $3500 for the Leukaemia Foundation. Thank you so much to everyone who donated. Keep an eye out in the mail for a card! For everyone who thought I’d just gone Britney-Bat-Shit-Crazy stay tuned – that’s still on the cards.
I got addicted to Married At First Sight (MAFS)
We all have an inner voyeur. Well I certainly do, and she takes pleasure in watching “married” strangers fight with each other like rabid coyotes and bitch about their spouses on national television. There’s something about this show that made me feel infinitely better about being single. I sided with the villain, laughed at the pure stupidity of some, choked on my wine when the one “wife” said she her Bondi-bikini-selfie-botox-boob job lifestyle was being bank rolled by her parents. I cheered on the “cyclone” who attempted to get physically violent with “plastic fantastic” in a face mask.
I live-tweeted all the thoughts I had about it as I was having them. A few tweets got re-blogged and one got several hundred likes. I like to think I had a following but let’s face it – I didn’t. I just loved the conversation with other MAFANATICs.
Credit: No idea soz. But I think it was @mafsfunny on Instagram.
I completed a freelance writing course
This one is pretty boring but I was glad I finished it and did all my homework (albeit poorly one week in the ads breaks of MAFS – see point 2 above). The course was Freelance Writing for Magazines and Newspapers. It was run online by the Australian Writers Centre.
I got back into hiking after my summer siesta
It is far too hot over summer in Australia to hike for too long. Plus I am terrified of snakes. Mid March to Mid October is my time to shine. I normally get out and do at least 10-20km each weekend. Like hitting the ‘reset’ button.
Jerusalem Bay
There is one other thing I have been working on….
But I’m not ready to share it just yet! If all works out…. in about 10 weeks. Stay tuned!
You know you must like a house when you repost a picture of it within 3 seconds of first seeing it online. A couple of months ago I posted a picture of the “Spaceship House” in La Selva Beach, California on Instagram and I have been on a mission ever since to find as many pictures of it as possible. Mission.
This house is me, if I were made of building materials. More likely, it is my brain or personality in house form. A bit weird, a bit quirky, certainly unique. Surrounded by generous and well planned garden space, secluding us from the outside world.
A home with a story to tell. It was built in 1969, by Mary Gordon, a landscape architect. Not a building architect.
It’s not a large house. Only 1 bed, 1 bath. Appealing to the environmentalist in me – why built or live in more space than what you need? The current owner purchased it in 2013 for $560K US. If you’re interested it is also currently on the market for $988K (so $1.4-ish million AUS?)
Did I also mention it is literally opposite the beach?
One of the reasons I was attracted to buying my current apartment was that it had a curved wall heading down the staircase. I love a curved wall. All the walls in this house are curved.
Plus, what’s not to love with the garden, which is also colourful and eclectic. A mass of succulents mixed with traditional garden plantings, mixed with Australian native Kangaroo Paws even! Meandering paths and inviting, a garden really is part of what makes a house a home.
The owner describes this house as a sculpture, albeit one that you live in, and I can’t think of a better was to mix architecture and living than a house like this.
