Some things we will miss...

As we anticipate another move, I reflect over the last 12 months here at Phillips.

There are some things we will definitely miss.

One of those is the new local library/learning hub which was completed at the end of June. It's a huge 22 million dollar building with all new 'stuff'

Particularly they run a free program for Pre-Schoolers twice a week for an hour.

Each week there is a theme, books read, songs sung and then a crafty activity at the end.

It's really fun and unlike other libraries which have 20 minutes of Rhyme Time once or twice a week (with huge amounts of people) we get a massive plasma that flashes activities and words up as we sing, read and sign Auslan for a whole hour! 

We plan on going as much as possible before we leave ( if only to play with all the dogs )

Clean Up Cloud 9

Over the last week and a bit ( since the blog went dead ) the ball has begun to roll.

I'm simplifying.

First- I have started packing for our exciting move. Yes, we are moving again. Closer to the city. To become real melbournites.

This means. We are down sizing, which helps me justify selling most of the stuff we don't use and just hang on to ' just in case'

It's very gratifying packing and sorting and knowing soon, very soon, our adventure here at Phillips will be over and a new one begun.

It's also very gratifying removing the clutter from my life. Everytime I tag and box an item for our upcoming garage sale I feel a little lighter. A little more exited about being free from our extra stuff. ( and we have a lot of extra stuff)

I have been reading a blog called Documenting Delight.

Georgia is on an adventure to reduce and has decided not to purchase anything unnecessary for a whole year she calls it 'doing without'.

I love the idea of creating community swaps and gleaning items from family and friends.

I don't know if I would have the stamina to go for so long without buying absolutely anything except the absolute necessities.

So my happy compromise is to live with less. Purchase less and make sure what we have is well worth the money and space.

Did you know she lived in a bus once?

Anyway.

I am organising a combined garage sale. I don't have enough stuff to justify having a garage sale on our own, and even if we did. It wouldn't be as much fun if I couldn't do it with my beloved friends.

So come buy our stuff. ( including two of these suede chairs at a bargain price ) clothing, craft items, books, furniture, booqi stock, retro signs and glass doors and anything you can think of. We've got it for sale.

 

A bunch of stuff.

Hunna says I should stop reading other people's blogs because their lives are definitely not as perfect as they might seem.

I'm not under the impression that Joy has the perfect life or Kelle or Ashley or any one from any of the other blogs I read.

I think it's more about remembering, relishing and enjoying the good things. Moving on from the bad things. Capturing the moments and making memories.

They uplift me, they motivate me. They're better than any trashy mag I've ever read because they're real.

Most of all I want to read things that are real.

I want to blog about stuff that is real, that saunters around in me. That is the important stuff in my life bubble. My little monologue.

Currently, my quarter life crisis is in full swing. I feel weighed down by our stuff ( and some people who know us would probably think we don't have much stuff ) but to be honest with you, the mountains of stuff we drag from house to house weighs heavy on my shoulders.

Do we really need it all?

No we don't. Nope. Not at all.

Will I miss any of it? Probably not.

When we moved in to Phillips I set about acquiring stuff thinking it would complete the picture of our family life.

I bought a table and chairs. A chest of drawers and more.

Over the last 6 months since major could've died surgery, I've decided we don't need that stuff. So I've been selling it. All of it. All the new stuff and some of the old.

Like Adam Baker. I want to accumulate experiences, not stuff.

My perspective is slowly shifting.

Stuff doesn't love me. It doesn't care for me, and it won't be the thing I look back on in 50 years and say " Gee, I'm glad I had all that stuff "

So I want to tear back the stuff mentality I am caught in. I want to whittle it down the the bare essentials. A few well made pots and pans, rather than 10 crappy Kmart ones. A few timeless tops, rather than 50 cheaper ones. From 150 pairs of shoes to less than 20.

We can make do. Because I am absolutely sure. Everytime Nan got a new recipe that called for a different type of baking tin, she didn't go buy a new one to fit.

Our lounge room looks like it has been trashed, I'm in packing mode as our rental agreement finishes up in September and I am hoping we can grab somewhere a lot closer to the city, a lot smaller and fit in a lot less stuff.

{But at least Boys room looks like this ( for now)}

So please buy my stuff. Because I don't want it back. Ever.

 

List-erine

I'm not 100% sure why I typed my life is a mess into google. (It's really not that bad)


I'm pretty sure I'm bored, and being melodramatic helps me beat off boredom.

So of course the Dr. Phil website pops up with links to :

What was I thinking?
Stop excusing inexcusable behaviour
Take responsibility for your life.

Hmm..
Interesting, some people have huge issues.

But I've got bigger fish to fry Dr. Phil.

I am on the path to self discovery
( read about my quarter life crisis here)

Ok, so it seems the haircut might not have worked to jettison my butt into action. ( I'm not even sure if jettison was the right verb to use then, but it sounded important. So I'll stick with it..)

So now it's down to me and a list.

What type of a list helps with self discovery?

I suppose I better use my excellent list making skills to list a few things I need to finish:

Things to finish:
#1 From like to loke, from loke to love and beyond.
#2 Dear Boy

Things to do:
#3 Search for meaningful online course which is relevant to me..
#4 Search for meaningful job which will suit my SAHM/ lady of leisure lifestyle.
#4.5 Take life a lot less seriously.

Things to start:
#5 write my life story

Things to wish for:
#6 talent scout finds you, loves your writing and pays you to write a weekly column like Carrie Bradshaw in Sex & The City, only with a lot less nudity attached and much better humour.

Epiphany: ( see i told you list writing helps!) look into journalism, writing and or becoming the next J.K Rowling. ( but most definitely not like Charlie Cussing Pickering and his biased platforming pseudo journalistic posse)

Although props for Pickering because he probably doesn't type 'my life is a mess ' into google.

List out.

Rubicon Red

Sometimes I think my life is like hating Alison Ashley.

Like I am Erica Yurken.

 

The awkward, self absorbed, über ( seriously, who uses über anymore?) dramatic, plain, short one.

Then ( regularly ) my life/the situation montages in front of my eyes - like at the end of the movie.

Snippets of conversation and a flash of 2 second images brightening my cornea.

 

That's when I realise what a complete twat I have been this whole time.

 

Sigh.

At least I accept that I am a massive brat.

 

Oh! ....Hey Mum!

 

P.s: Tasmania has great cheese. I miss great cheese.. and apples. You guys don't know how good you've got it down there with your cheese and your apples..

When I pay.

Whenever I go to the shops, and I'm standing over the POS machine.

When the cashier says " That'll be $42.70."

And I say " Just on eftpos please. "

When I slot my card into the machine, select the account and type in my pin.

In the small space of time while the little screen says 'processing'.

I always, always feel really awkward.

Should I look at the machine? Because I don't want to come across as being too eager, waiting for the machine to say ' approved ' -- like I'm crossing my fingers and toes it'll work..

Should I look at the attendant? Smile and make the awkward pause seem twice as long while neither of us says anything?

Usually.. I pretend that my wallet has something interesting in it, or needs re-arranging or simply needs to be zipped back up.

Yesterday, when this happened for the bazillionth time, I actually accidentally dropped my wallet on the linoleum. And I was thankful I had a decent excuse not the feel awkward, because I legitimately had something to fill in those few seconds between processing and approved.

' Woops' I said, as I bent down and picked it up. And the thought crossed my mind that I should pretend drop my wallet from now on because it wasn't as awkward as standing awkwardly waiting for everything to process.

Which is ridiculous.

But it got me thinking. How many social restraints do we put on ourselves because of how we think others are perceiving us?

The other week when Simone came to visit we were sitting on the bench next to one another while Flynn and Boy played at the park.

She said she always felt she was suppose to look at her phone while she was waiting for him to finish playing, because she needed to seem busy.

Which is the exact opposite of the pressure I feel when I go to the park. I feel, I am not allowed to look at my phone, that I must constantly watch Boy and be an active participant ( from the park bench ) by watching his every move or people will think I'm a bad parent ( this has something to do with my age / how young I look)

Why am I always doing things to try and appeal to the way I want / think others perceive me?

Why can't I just sit and watch or go on my phone or play with Boy and not feel awkward every step of the way because I am worried about what other people are thinking.

And the logical truth is, I know that nobody is thinking about me. I know that people don't care. That they're so involved in their own selves they probably don't even notice what I am doing.

So why do I continue to feel so awkward?

So I went to the hairdresser on Saturday, ( I loathe going to the hairdresser ) it always presents yet another situation for utter awkwardness.

Two people. A long period of time. A mirror. Touching from a complete stranger. If I didn't find it so frightening I'd find it hilarious.

Luckily, I had decided to just walk in to a random hairdresser and get, come what may, whom ever I got. I have no loyalty to hairdressers. Except to Craig.

First awkward situation, hair washing.

Do I look at the ceiling? Do I shut my eyes and enjoy it? Do I talk to the assistant who is leaning so close to me, I can feel her breath on my face as she scrubs and washes.

I resign to look at the down light. Her jaw line an out of focus fuzz as I look directly up like a glazed zombie.

Thankfully, the hairdresser was not one to begin awkward conversation. So the next hour was only filled with " head back please, head forward please, is this length good?

I relaxed because I didn't need to fill the next hour with painstakingly awkward small talk with a stranger.

And for this first time at the hairdresser, I actually looked at myself in the mirror. I mean, really looked at myself.

Usually, I don't want to seem on my self, and I avoid.. at all cost, looking at myself.

I looked at the shade of my skin, the slightness of my wrists resting on the arms of the chair, the blue hue of my eyes. The ashy brown of my hair colour. The plumpness of my lips.

And I realised, for the first time in my life. That I could actually be pretty. In 25 years I have looked at my self most mornings, with make-up in hand : trying to desperately fix the flaws but never really looking at myself. Never noticing the good stuff. Only the stuff that needed to be fixed.

I suddenly noticed the slight shimmery glow that emanates from my porcelain skin, the way my natural hair colour suits the hue of my eyes and the pallor of my skin, my delicate clavicle.

I've dyed my hair and tanned my skin and plumped and preened all of the things I suddenly saw could actually be pleasant.

For the first time in years I didn't cry about my haircut, I didn't whinge afterwards about how horrible it was.

I simply rejoiced in the newness of it all.

I felt a completely different person.

Liberated. Genuinely confident. And like, through all the awkwardness I should just be myself. I could be myself. The possibilities are endless.