Best thing I never had

Sometimes it is the one that got away that is a blessing. Finding out early that a man is a snake has to be better than enduring a barrage of crap. Those who believe in karma would say that he'll see what he missed out on and regret it. I do not believe in karma.

If you are one of the lucky ones that avoided heartbreak by not entering into a relationship with a man that did not deserve you, was not worthy or treats others like crap; be thankful.

Crazy in love

I do not fall in love easily but when I do I fall hard and it takes me a long time to get over people I love. I am the epitome of crazy in love. Perhaps that's one of my problems. I have been working very hard on controlling my emotions, constantly pulling back. Consistently withholding from others. The leash has been getting tighter and tighter. I find myself clenching my hands together behind my back to stop myself from physically reaching out at times. I am so restrained in my actions. I bite my tongue, I resist following my natural instincts and I harness my every move.

I think I am pretty easy to love. I am fairly relaxed about life, I am easy to please and I don't impose on others. Clearly my ex thinks differently as he has dubbed "totally unloveable" (and fundamentally flawed). Bitterness aside, it would appear that he is actually right: I am unloveable.

I don't want someone to need me; I like my independence and I am not prepared to let go of that again. I just want someone to want me. I would like, just for once, to be chosen. I'm the girl at the end of the night that's still dancing alone when all the girls are kissing guys. I'm the girl that is friend-zoned. Guys are happy to look but none are interested in anything more than that. I would much rather be unattractive and likeable. To be pretty is nothing. It's a veneer, an outer coating that has no real value. There's no greater insult than having someone reject you once they actually get to know you. All the things that attracted them in the first place are not strong enough for them to hold on to once they take the veil off and see what lies underneath.

I am flamboyant, energetic, generous and fun. All of which are apparently unattractive qualities, embarrassing to those around me and offensive. I cannot, and will not, change who I am so I need to learn to accept that I am going to be alone. I'm just not sure how to do that yet. I have had a lot of practice in the last eighteen months but I hate it, to be honest.

I know I can cope on my own. I have my interests, my friends, my family but I miss being touched. I miss being hugged. I miss sex. I do not believe the humans are designed to live without touch. I am finding myself craving it more and more. It's the only thing I cannot provide for myself. Though it would be nice, I don't need emotional support from a guy. I have very little financially but I don't want a man's money either. I like nice things and have expensive tastes but I don't need gifts or lavish outings. I miss the intimacy of a relationship - sharing thoughts, ideas, feelings. I miss the occasional gentle touch, a peck here, a butt squeeze there.

Hair of the bitch?

I am taking a quick diversion from Beyonce week because I went to the night noodle markets in Melbourne  tonight. I saw all these hipster douchebags sporting Ned Kelly-esq beards, running around in their Capri pants and canvas shoes and I wonder whether they've taken the pubic hair from their partners nether regions and their facial hair is just compensating for all the naked vaginas.

Ed - Came across this article and thought it fitting

Put a ring on it

One of the reasons I love Beyonce is that she is willing to take the piss. JT's spoof of Single Ladies is gold. Any woman that can do a side lunge like that in heels has my respect. And, quite honestly, the analogy of a man hugging me tighter than my very own jeans is so appealing right now!

Irreplaceable

I am dedicating this week to a pop princess - Beyonce Knowles-Carter is an advocate for empowerment and has been touted as a 'modern day feminist'. All accolades aside (and there are a number), she is an exceptionally talented individual with the voice of an angel.

Right now I am loving the strength that Beyonce shows. This is a woman who seems pretty self-assured, something I am definitely not (but am working on establishing a framework for). I am, step by step, building a base to which I can return when I lose my way. I am sorting through my shit and developing a firm base of who I am, what matters to me and where I want to be. I am reinforcing boundaries and letting go of inhibitions. I am spending a lot of time exploring things I have never had time to think about let alone assess and define. I am a survivor.

One of the songs that is resonating with me a lot lately is irreplaceable. No one is irreplaceable. Realising this is a blessing and a curse. I once, foolishly, thought my ex would miss me when I left. He did not. He has moved on. Twice. And is happier than ever. I know no one believes me but I am honestly thankful that he has someone in his life. I want him to be happy. He is the father of my children and I believe he will be a better dad to them if he is personally happy.

Beyonce

Contentment

This morning I woke (alone as usual) and while I would love to be loved and share my life with someone I am content today. I have a whole weekend ahead with no plans. Six weeks ago that would have terrified me but today I have been lying in bed thinking of all the things I would like to do and there are so many. Being alone means I don't have anyone else to consider. I can cram a million things into my day or I could lie on the couch. No one would know. No one would care. Either way I can do exactly as I please.

While there are a million reasons why I want a sexy man in my life I am not willing to settle for someone who won't treat me well. I'd rather be alone than have the actions (or in actions) of another affect my happiness. Until such time as I am fully comfortable in my own skin I am better off alone. Otherwise I am likely to fall for another arsehole.

A picture is worth a thousand words

Today I changed my profile picture on an internal application at work. Previously it was a photo of me taken from outside working at cleaning second-hand windows that had been left out in the weather for way too long. Though I am smiling my eyes are dead. I have instead replaced it with a photo of me smiling wholeheartedly. I am not hiding behind a veil of glass. I am raw and exposed. And my smile comes from my eyes not just my mouth.

I find it telling. I am alone, without my children that I absolutely adore but I am shining from within. I am still fighting the demons in my head and the monsters within but I am free of daily negativity and soul destruction. Baby steps but that mountain is getting closer and one day I will be on the other side of it.

Frinspiration

Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. 

Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing 

- August Wilson

Self opinion

A forensic artist drew a group of people. First with that person's description of them self and then with a strangers description. The results are amazing.

I know I don't see what others do. I know I am overly critical of myself. I ignore compliments and fixate on negative comments and insults. Ian a perfectionist seeking the unattainable but I recognise that and I am fighting against it.

Self love peeps, it is the path to acceptance and self confidence. Cockiness and arrogance are unattractive but confidence is sexy as!

So what

I like Pink (SURPRISE!). Today my mood matches "So What". It's all a farce. She's not alright. Not even one little bit.

Control

This says it all.  Apart from the reference to a speedometer rather than an odometer, this is the most accurate and succinct article on the topic I have read in months.

It saddens me greatly that our society is so lax on people who behave in this manner but it worries me that we are not equipping our children to stand up for themselves. Self esteem is undervalued where cockiness is revered. We need to be teaching children to develop healthy self esteems, where they respect themselves enough to turn away from those that treat them badly.

Furthermore, we need skilled practitioners that can help those exposed to such abuse pull themselves up to the point where they don't repeat their same mistakes. People exposed to treatment like this don't need to hear that they should top themselves (they're probably considering that anyway considering the abuse they have received); they don't need to hear that time will heal all they need coaching to develop the skills to assert themselves.

Denigration, especially if received over years, is difficult to undo. It becomes ingrained and habitual. The constant insults swim around and attack when you're most vulnerable - those moments when you are about to stand up for yourself or when you want to make a big decision in your own best interest. And the people that abuse are smart - they know who to pick, those with low self-confidence and people-pleasers are easy to manipulate. They spot a weakness and feed off it.

Wishful

I sit between two guys at work. All day long they're texting; smiling when their phone vibrates, thrilled that their woman has sent them a message. The chicks say "jump" and I can hear their subconscious response ("how high?"). While it's cute it's also an infuriating reminder that I'm alone and unloved. They're going home to adoration, affection and company and I have nothing.

I crank up my tunes and submerse myself in my work; try not to let it get to me. But it does. It really and truly does. I find myself thinking 'what's wrong with me?'. I am kind and generous, thoughtful and fun. Why is no one interested in me? Is my ex right? Am I fundamentally flawed and unloveable?

No one said life was easy but this is completely fucked up.

Music therapy

Yesterday as I drove after a particularly shitful encounter with my ex I cranked up the tunes and sang until my throat hurt. I sang 'How Come You're Not Here' for all the fuckers out there that have rejected me once they have got to know me. I sang 'Wings' for my Mumma. I sang 'True Love' and 'Pursuit of Happiness' for my soul mate. I sang 'Acapella', 'Roar', 'There You Go', 'Fighter', 'Shackles' and 'Fuck You' for me. I sang 'The Gambler' for my sister and 'Bright Lights Bigger City' for my cousin.  I sang 'Beep' for my niece.  I sang 'Talk Dirty' and 'Shake That Ass' for shits and giggles.

I sang and I sang and I sang.  And I danced.

As a result, I am still here today. Bring it on fuckwit! You won't win.

Dry as a bone

I am over fighting. I am over chasing. I am over it all. I have nothing left. I am dry as a bone. I am tired of bearing the brunt of hatred and anger. I have endured it for nearly a decade and I am worn through. Like a rock in a river, I have been picked up and thrown back, cracking as a result. I have been eroded by water and tumbled in rough sand. I have been admired briefly for my outer appearance but discarded time and time again for the qualities that lie underneath.

I have no way out; no avenue to explore. I have no hope. I am stuck on a path for at least another decade and so I have no choice but to plod on. Left foot. Right foot.

The only joy I have are the brief times I spend with my children but they are too infrequent and bittersweet. My other sources of joy have dried up like my humble heart. Shrivelled and smelly like a corpse on a hot summer day.

Pepper Pots

I rarely wear my hair up as it tends to give me a headache. However, when I am running late or the power is out (like it was this morning) I will sucumb. I wore my hair in a straight pony tail when my cousin was here and he told me that I looked like Pepper Pots. I love Gwyneth Paltrow and I think she portray Pepper Pots perfectly. She's glamorous, efficient, loyal and stands for no shit. She is confident and competent. I aspire to be like that.

Parenting fail

My son and I are clashing terribly lately. Regardless of what I do he's cranky at me. It's heartbreaking, frustrating and challenging. I know that I had real issues at the same age and I am trying to ensure that I provide him with all the emotional support that I can to help him through but I totally lost my shit with him today. I'm not proud of myself. In fact, it is tearing me apart. We talked at length about it afterwards and he seemed okay but it's shattered me.

I'm pretty fragile anyway but to see my children suffer just tears me to pieces. Throw your shit at me; I will find a way to cope. My children are different. I feel guilty that I lost my temper. I did not say anything I regret but I worry that I was too harsh.

I'm not a patient person. My son isn't either. In fact, we have very similar personalities which is why I find him challenging to parent. I know tomorrow will bring with it another opportunity to rectify things with him but right now my heart is aching for my boy who is struggling to articulate what's going on.

Frinspiration

Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it.

Ann Landers

Light the spark

People like us - we don't need that much

Just someone that starts

Starts the spark in our bonfire heart

~ James Blunt

In my lifetime I have met two men that have made me feel truly alive. Both were sexy as all get out and so much freaking fun! Besides those I have with my children, the times I spent with these two men are the happiest memories of my life. I feel blessed, to be honest. Some people go through their whole life without experiencing the spark. It's undervalued and elusive. It is hard to describe and impossible to create - it's either there or it is not. It is not something you can fake, nor is it something that you can hide. It is something that is envied and absolutely addictive.

Falling in love

The seventh is at ladies' night at Spice Market - let the dancing begin.

Compassion

I have a beautiful friend who is really suffering at the moment. It is written all over his face, in his body language and his eyes. Pain oozes from him yet he won't divulge the cause. My heart bleeds for him.

Compassion, the sympathetic concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others, is rare in our competitive society. Generally speaking, children are brought up to advance themselves at all costs. Taking advantage of others for personal gain is rewarded and admired. Listen to a group of guys at a pub and they'll brag about how they are ripping off women for sex, free drinks, meals and travel (this needs to be moderated somewhat as men tend to bang their chests when in a group but it's likely to be based on truth). As long as you don't get caught, it's okay to cheat on your partner (and now I have Shaggy's "It wasn't me" stuck in my head!).

Not in my world!

People, show some basic human qualities of compassion and respect. Let others share their burden, download their troubles and spill their foibles. Then, keep your fucking mouth shut about it. Don't share it with other people, whether they know the first person or not.

Pretty me up

I love frocking up. I love the way I feel in a dress and heels, hair done and make up on. It is a mask. It hides my inner fears and allows me to blend more easily among the real women of the world (you know, the flawless glamorous women who reapply lipstick and always look awesome).

Thursdays are my favourite day of the week. My dependable girls and I go out dancing. There's sometimes drinking but that's secondary to getting our groove on.

I dress according to my mood. Tonight will be a either my green one shoulder dress and beige heels with matching clutch or a black leather-look skirt with sheer top and black strappy heels with shoulder bag. If I am feeling flat I'll go the black option because there's no need to worry about slippage exposing breast.

Most importantly, I always dance up a storm. I love the escape from the shitstorm that is my life. I love that I can go to another place in my head and no one can penetrate into it. For those five or six hours that I am dancing I am safe and happy.

Grammar Nazi

I am a grammar Nazi. I hate misspelling, loathe the misuse of the apostrophe and if you cannot get a grip on your and you're then you're out of my sphere of concern.  One of my pet hates is the use of 'suppose' instead of supposed.  You are supposed to meet your mother when you're done washing your car. You suppose that your mother will forgive your tardiness because you're going to hug her when you arrive. Get. It. Right.

Texting has killed the vowel. Txt and thx drive me crazy! FFS there's only one more letter to write text rather than txt and thx is just disrespectful! If you are truly thankful for something take the extra seventeen microseconds to type an additional three characters.

Rant over.

Match made in heaven

A friend of mine has this thing where she judges couples we see out and about, assessing them for their compatibility based solely on their appearance. I found myself on the receiving end of the same assessment when I was out with a friend recently. I had no fewer than eight women, assuming we were a couple, come and tell me we were mismatched and stating I could do "better".

Admittedly I was rocking a freaking awesome dress and my cousin had worked some kind of magic beauty spell when she did my hair in curls. But who is to judge "better" for me other than me?

However, I do find it an interesting theory. Can you tell relationship success from how people dress? If so, does everyone dress authentically? By that I mean, do people always wear what they are truly comfortable and actually like or do they wear what they think they are supposed to? Cause that is going to skew your results.

Something to ponder further.

Summer in Melbourne

Summer in Melbourne starts soon (not that you'd know with the wintery weather we've had lately). I am going to check out the Noodle Markets. It's not particularly my type of food but it is my type of event - loads of people, bands, fresh air and alcohol!

The price of fame

It's no secret that I have found the demise of my marriage a struggle. However, I consider myself fortunate. For I am not famous. I think most are aware of Miley Cyrus' trampish behaviour with Robin Thicke at the 2013 VMA. Then there was the travesty of Wrecking Ball - anyone who kisses a hammer should probably seek professional help. Now, she's penned an open letter to Liam Hemsworth, twerked a midget and smoked a j on stage. I feel for the poor troubled soul. I think she's more fucked up than me.

Wading through poo

I met with a friend recently who divulged a lot of information in a short space of time. It was a heavy conversation on many fronts and totally enlightening as a result. A lot of what we covered was challenging, real and raw. I was exhausted afterwards.

I was confronted by the ugly truth of my life following a very trying day. It was late and I was emotionally drained when I got home. Again, I reached out to the wrong person at my time of need and got doughnuts in return. I never seem to learn.

However, my wise friend had commented that wading through poo makes a stronger you. I am sticking with that theory and hoping I don't stink too much when I come out the other side.

Reaching evermore

This was me at the start of yoga last night

I had (another) a terrible day and was looking forward to catch up with a friend, despite my fatigue and the rainy drive and I just was not in the right frame of mind for yoga.

Ten minutes in and the deep breathing had eased the pain in my chest from postherpetic neuralgia; my shoulders had dropped and my mind had slowed down. I was in transition from stress monkey to being in control. I am reaching evermore for peace but it could hurry up and show any time now. Acceptance is elusive and stresses are mounding.

Om.

They be smokin'

Sometimes I wish I was a smoker. I like the social aspect of smoking and the acceptable additional breaks from work if you are a smoker. I think smokers are better conversationalists than most other people, too. Probably from striking up a convo with randoms in the street on a regular occurrence.

Some nights

Ninety per cent of the time I'm okay now. However, there are nights like tonight where I lie and cry. For so many reasons. I cry for Euan and Gemma and just want them with me. I cry for my Lily. I cry for friends who have also lost babies. I cry because my dad is terminally ill and I owe my mum money that I cannot repay and I know all she wants to do is retire and travel. I cry for my sister who I love more than she knows. I cry for my gorgeous friend who just wants to find someone decent. I cry for my best friend who is struggling so much more than he needs to at the moment. I cry because the world is unjust and fucked up.

I cry and I cry and I cry. Until the sobs turn to silent tears which just drop silently off my nose and soak into the pillow. I cry until my throat and chest hurt. I cry until there is nothing left inside and I hope, beyond all hope, that I can maintain the numbness I feel when the tears have stopped falling and the pillow starts to dry knowing, though, that the morning will bring with it the ever present pain. The dull ache of sadness. The effort with each breathe. I know that the morning will bring with it not only yet another opportunity to try to do better but the inevitable disappointment when it draws to a close and I've lost another twenty four hours without achieving anything.

So I take a deep breath and soldier on. I know that these days are infrequent now and continue to be less a part of my life. Time heals all wounds and all that crap.

Wise words

Born this way

I am crazy. Not necessarily admissible nor diagnosable but mad to the core. My gorgeous cousin did my hair for me last night and I was in quite a playful mood when my sister said she wanted a photo. This is what she got for her request!

Art

I generally don't get art. I cannot see the beauty in Jackson Pollock's blobs of coloured paint on a canvas - my kids are talented enough to do that! But there is something really special about art from the heart.

A lovely friend painted "Four Seasons" which I find really special. I am partial to swirls and find that I doodle in curly patterns.  I love the Aboriginal influence and the vibrant colours. I love that each season has a touch of blue - no season is free from sad thoughts - but that the blue quadrant is alive and not at all depressing. The transitioning and blending of colours is what I find really striking; there is so much flow it is like it is a static image of movement.

A relative of a friend painted this mural and I love it. I am partial to yellow and I love the contrast with the "architecture" in the background and the blandness of the path in the foreground. I love the splash of colour and life in an otherwise drab and dull suburbia. I love the spontaneity and cheekiness of it. I don't see it as vandalism (whereas tagging totally is).

I love graffiti art - tagging is nothing but there's something about street art that really appeals to me.  If I had a brick wall I would encourage someone to decorate it in this fashion for me. Hell, if I had the money, I would even pay them to do so.

When I have a bar I would like to have someone decorate a wall of it on a regular basis so the vista always changes.

Strike it up

I am a people-watcher. I love going out and witnessing the goings on of other people. I am interested in the way people interact and the conversations they have. I watch was people chat to randoms and try to pick them up and I am amazed by the things that work. I have seen a guy pick up a girl in under ten minutes by striking up a conversation about their Samsung Galaxy mobile phones. She was outta there and into his car faster than he could make a joke about the pitfalls of iOS7. I've seen men score a pash just by grabbing a girl's hand and spinning her around on the dancefloor. I have seen a man succeed with a woman by tucking her bra strap into her dress. Another held out his hand for a girl to safely navigate some stairs and scored.

It is amazing what a little respect, a smile and a well worded compliment can do. I have seen strong, capable women melt faster than jelly on a hotplate when a man delivers a compliment. My advice here is to be specific. None of this "you have nice tits" crap. There's no class in that! But a compliment about her outfit, a piece of jewellery or her hairstyle is generally a sure-fire way to get a response.

I came across an article recently. I'd like to point out one sentence in particular and, pay attention, because it is an important one:
"Gentlemen, grinding, pinching, ogling, wolf-whistling, groping, grabbing or phwoar-ing do not count as conversation or communication."

Then there's this gem which encourages those men who are less bold to take up yoga as a way to find women. Let me tell you; boys who take up yoga as a means of meeting women are blatantly obvious. Men, if you actually like yoga and are going for yourself then by all means attend every session you want to BUT if you are, like Mr Green suggests, attending as a way in: do not. You will look like a fool. Besides, no woman I know wants to be chatted up when they are trying to perfect their downward facing dog or trialing a new version of the sun salute. Yoga is a place for relaxation and peace. Do not disturb that with your overt perving as you are likely to end up in a tangled mess on the floor while your object of affection is practicing her triangle pose.

Also, I know many women fall for it but negging should not be a thing. Keep it above board boys. There is no need to fuel deep seated insecurities in order to cop a feel.

Jordan Frinspiration

Today's dose of Frinspiration comes from my most beloved sport stars. I am not a sports person. I like to  play it but I don't like to watch it. There is one exception - basketball. I love to watch the pros soar around the court. No one flies like MJ though!

I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career.

I've lost almost 300 games.

Twenty six times I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed.

I've failed over and over and over again in my life.

And that is why I succeed - Michael Jordan

This is who I am

I have spent the last eighteen months or so working out what I like and, in the process, found a plethora of things I don't like. It is important to try new things, to expand your horizons and learn in the process. I have spent the majority of my adult life listening to others and doing things I did not want to in order to get them to like me, hoping it would make them love me. Turns out that didn't work so well.

So, I have taken this opportunity to turn that shit around. At the start I floundered. I truly struggled to know what I liked. I found making decisions really difficult (I still do when I am tired or unwell). I would deliberate for weeks over the smallest things. Initially I worried about what people thought of me; fearing they would judge me for the choices I made. I consistently reminded myself of the fact that I wanted to please myself not others. I am all I have. If I am not happy then life is going to suck even more. So I persisted. I went through a process of trial and error. I now know what I like and what I don't. I know what I want. I know what I will not tolerate. I am defining boundaries. I am working on creating a life that I am proud of.

This is me. Unashamed. Uncensored. Unapologetic.

I love my children more than I ever thought possible and will always put them first. I like cut flowers. I insist on a clean house. I believe leggings should not be worn as outerwear unless you are at the gym. I like to be cuddled to sleep and prefer to sleep naked. To say I enjoy dancing is the biggest understatement ever. I am thankful for my small group of friends. I speak the truth so withhold information rather than lie. I love wholeheartedly. I don't like biscuits. I prefer dessert to mains. I use exercise as a means of coping with the fucked upedness of my life. I like wearing heels. I swear. A lot! I am happiest snuggled up with my children but really want to share my life with someone.

I think Ryan Reynolds is hot even though I don't rate him as an actor. I love smart men. I have a thing for belts, scarves and necklaces. I abhor violence. I do not enjoy gardening. I actually really do love my family and enjoy spending time with them. I give more than I should. I love the simple pleasures - walking hand in hand, kisses, hugs and homemade food. My sister is my best friend. I love dresses but am happiest in a pair of jeans.

I love Batman (and Hugh Jackman as Wolverine). I will leave the house without makeup on. In a pickle I can be showered, made up and dressed in about 15 minutes. I don't always match my handbag to my outfit. I cannot wear bold lipsticks because I am too uncouth and it ends up everywhere and I cannot style my hair.

The best 15 minutes of my week is generally the meditation at the end of my yoga class. I wear perfume because it makes me happy and choose the scent based on my mood. I love to sing even though I have no talent. I am high maintenance. I still don't understand girls - the games they play; the backstabbing; the bitchiness; the competitiveness; their love of horses. I prefer the company of men. I love being massaged and having my hair stroked. I love birthdays; Christmas and fairy lights. I don't enjoy classical music and find ballet boring. I don't watch TV. I love a man in a crisp white shirt. I should have studied physics. I prefer action movies to rom coms but I still believe in love. I hate racism and homophobia. Oh, and mirrors; I hate mirrors! I quite like facial hair but hate moustaches. I am almost always cold. I hate secrets and abhor lying. I am a morning person. I prefer blue to pink. I am animated and passionate and, according to other people, this makes me intimidating. Breakfast is my favourite meal. I prefer having the lights off at night.

I can only attract drunk, old or desperate men and once men get to know me they generally lose interest. I can chat for hours unless I am with someone I am attracted to in which case I am too scared to say much. People generally think I am a bitch when they first meet me and misconstrue a lot of what I say.

I am playful and energetic. I am dedicated and loyal. I find it hard to contain my excitement a lot of the time. I actually quite like my job. I am boring and hobby-less. I use avoidance mechanisms rather than face my issues. I think nail polish is funny and wear it in a mocking fashion. I don't drink enough water and predict the great undiagnosed illness of 2009 will kill me within five years.

I love vodka and sweet fruity cocktails. I do not like tequila and it does not like me. We agree not to be friends.

I hate carpet and trinkets. I am comforted by the smell of second hand cigarettes even though it makes me want to vomit. I miss my Dyson. I would probably still work if I won lotto. I could live on banana, avocado and chocolate milk; though not together. I love movies. I struggle to sit still. I like driving in the rain but I want other people off my roads. I eat too quickly when I am hungry and always feel ill so prefer to snack often than to have three meals a day.

I actually like spiders (with the exception of tarantulas) and consider the daddy long legs (not technically a spider, I know) my roommates. I love to watch crabs on the beach. I think there's nothing more soothing than seeing a sleeping baby; maybe because mine so rarely did.

My favourite is vanilla ice cream, but only when made with real vanilla beans. I wish I could speak a second language and play a musical instrument.

My dream is to own a bar and dance every fucking night.

Blooming beautiful

 I love freshly cut flowers.  They are a spark of colour and fragrance in an otherwise pretty bland life. My favourite is to have fresh flowers in the bathroom. I love the contrast with the white bench and harsh surfaces. I find it refreshing and cheerful.

I love the way I feel when there are flowers in the house. There is much scientific evidence to support me.

I am lucky that my mum is a master gardener and loves to share her bounty. My house is regularly filled with gorgeous flowers that cheer me up every time I see them.

I think, because flowers are a frivolous expense, there is a sense of worth associated with them that doesn't come with other gifts. To be honest, though, I prefer flowers with fragrance and commercially grown blooms generally don't offer that.

Sexiness

I love men. I love their energy. I love the way they behave. I love their arms (especially if they have the bicep bulge when their arms are relaxed - grrrr). I love their cute arses. I love the way they walk and how they stand. However, I find very few men sexy. I can appreciate fine form (I am thinking Ryan Gosling, Robert Downey Jr or Bradley Cooper but I don't find these men sexy). For me sexiness is more than classical good looks. For example, I find Eminem sexy but he really shouldn't be, if you know what I mean. He always looks under the influence of illicit substances and makes bad hair choices but he turns me on. So. Fricken. Much.

There is even a man that oozes sex appeal despite being classically unattractive.

Like I said, there is a distinct shortage of sexy men. Come on Melbourne - crank it up. Put in a bit of effort! Australian men, I have decided, think too highly of themselves and, as a woman, I am partly to blame. While I honestly don't care what men wear and think a guy in jeans and a tshirt can be quite sexy there is a time and a place to put in a bit of effort.

I am raising the call - men of Melbourne you need to step up. Put in some effort. Grab a shirt (that fits - nothing is less attractive than bulging buttons) and pull out the iron. Ditch the arsehole act and show some respect. Grab your lady by the hand and dance with her. Look her in the eye. Smile. Pay attention to her. Stop looking for the next upgrade when you are out with a woman - it is poor form. If you must travel that path, stick with going out with the guys.

I've spent countless hours people watching. I know all the tricks - "the line at the bar was terrible", "I was in the loo", "I was chatting to someone while I had a smoke". If you are out with a girl, be present. Treat her like she deserves. She's not just a vagina.

And women - don't tolerate the bullshit. Call him on it. There's no need to turn into bitch features or ruin the night with outrageous demands but do set some (reasonable) boundaries and stick to them. Most of all, though, have fun. Wear comfortable shoes so you don't end up spending half the night complaining. Smile. Make an effort -  line up at the bar occasionally so your man can enjoy his night too. Pay for at least one round if that's the kind of night you are having. The road travels both ways so show your man some respect. Don't dance sluttily in an attempt to make him jealous, you are likely to either enrage him or turn him off. Either way, you lose. If he's not a dancer suck it up and spend time with him (though if he dismisses you and sends you on your way so he can talk to his pals and flirt with other women run. Run away and don't go back. He doesn't deserve you).

Capable

I met a girlfriend for iced chocolate on Lygon Street last night. It was a gorgeous Melbourne evening with a lovely warm breeze. The motorbikes (complete with douchebag riders) were out in force rumbling along the street and making my chest vibrate in the way only a Harley can.

As we ended the evening I walked my friend to her car and was very thankful to realise that I am fully capable and confudent to walk the streets by myself.

Good morning sunshine

I have a lovely friend at work who sends me a "Good morning sunshine" message most weekdays. He probably does not realise but his small gesture can turn my day around. I am lucky to have some truly beautiful people in my life and I consider myself very blessed to have them as friends.

I have been told that I am not a people person and that I lack skills required to deal with people. I do find it difficult to make friends. I can be guarded and someone recently pointed out that I am very animated which tends to put people off.

I am, however, thankful for the limited number of friends I do have as each of them is truly special.

It's a new day

Each day that the sun rises is another chance to fix my fucked up life. Try, try, try again

Glitter in the air

I have always wanted to throw glitter in the air. Yesterday I did just that. My babies and I threw handfuls of glitter in the air and danced as the colours rained down. My sister acted as photographer and my garden is now covered in sparkles!

Gollum

I think Gollum is one of my favourite characters.  Ever.  He is torn between his love of the ring and his desire to be free of it. His internal struggle affects his physical state and his mental health. I think he's a wonderful portrayal of someone that's in constant internal turmoil.

Freezer bread

I've decided I am freezer bread. Passable only if you're desperate or drunk but not for everyday consumption

Pets

I know there are many people who find pets therapeutic. I am not one of them.

I am house sitting for my aunt while she's overseas. Her cat gives me terrible allergies and the door has to be open for the dog which means that the wind whips through the house and it is freezing. I'm not a fan of stinky stuff and all pet food has a stench. The dog is unwell and on medication so I stress when I am not here in case something happens.

I don't understand how so much extra work brings people joy. It's just not for me. Not one little bit.

Why I write

The exceptional Kate Wilson sums it up beautifully "I write to explain myself to myself"

Beautiful messes

My children are divine, independent, opinionated people. But that means they are also stubborn, outspoken people which clashes with my stubborn opinionated independence at times. I am wracked with guilt that my worst traits have been passed on. There are times when I understand why people don't have children. They are like mirrors into me and what shines back at me is often very unattractive.

There are other times when my children are positively perfect in every way. Yesterday we took a friend's daughter to hospital with severe abdominal pain. My children were considerate and helpful as I carried her down three flights of stairs and into the car. They were patient and quiet as we waited a full hour in emergency. The listened attentively whole the doctor asked a plethora of questions. They were hospitable when we brought my friend's son home with us for the night so my friend could concentrate on her sick daughter. They were gracious when his grandmother came to pick him up this morning.

My fears that I have totally fucked up their lives are softened when something like this happens for it is very defining to see how people react in times of uncertainty. My children may end up like me as beautiful messes but I am confident that their beauty (inside and out) will outshine their messes so they are a step ahead of me. That's all a parent can ask for.

A true friend

Today I was at a friends house when her daughter fell ill. Suspected appendicitis turned out to be a virus but I was so glad to be able to help her out. While I thought nothing of carrying her daughter down three flights of stairs and into the car or sitting with her head on my lap while her mum had lunch she (and her mum) clearly thought I had done something extraordinary. The kids and I took her brother home with us for dinner and to stay the night.

I didn't think twice about doing what I did but I am deeply touched by the heartfelt thanks and sincere compliments. I feel blessed to have such a wonderful friend. I choose to dedicate more time to those people that appreciate what I do in preference to those who don't think about me unless I am directly in front of them.

Frinspiration

Today's dose of Frinspiration is brought to you by Alan Watts

"It's better to have a short life that is full of what you like doing

than a long life spent in a miserable way"