The good and the ugly.

Good

The editor of The West Australian "newspaper" has resigned. Hurrah. Mayhap WA will have an actual newspaper again one day. I've heard that when he started he instructed staff to only write articles that were controversial and anything that wasn't defined at controversial was to be made controversial, and all else (ie. 'news') excluded.


Bizarre

a) Medals of Freedom given to the guys who helped Bush start a war. Freedom... War... Ah! What's the diff!

b) Little Johnny Howard being called 'the man of steel'.










Ah! What's the diff!


Great

My holiday! Didn't get to do as much as I'd planned sightseeing-wise (hey, there's always next time!) but had lots of fun and it all went too quickly. Am looking forward to my next holiday now. More! More! More! I was totally spoiled and loved it. Went to some great shindigs, got some lovely Chrissy prezzies and had all sorts of bizarre and unique offers New Year's Eve (some of which could have lead to my arrest had I agreed). So, much fun was had (and additionally contemplated) all round. Lucky, lucky me.


Hope you all are having a lovely start to the new year.

Sorting my male

Looking through my mail today I found one envelope which had my address but no name on it.

Oh, what are they trying to sell me now, I thought.


I opened it - expecting some disappointment like cheap printer ink cartridges, some new cleaning product or teddy bear address labels - and what did I see but this!
























Woo hoo! I thought. That's more like it! Just what I've been looking for!!


You can imagine how disappointed I was to turn this hunk of man over and read an ad for a new fitness centre in the area.


Shame.


Just when I thought he might be on sale....

...

Lemons

Am a bit stuck re anything to blog about lately. I apologise.

I could let you know about plants I've bought and put in my garden and all those sorts of things but I think that's pretty dull to most people (anyone else get excited about heliotrope? the flowers smell like vanilla...! anyone? anyone...?).


I could share with you how when listening to the cricket, I get distracted by such remarks as 'he bowled a maiden over' and how they shouldn't expose their stumps: I ponder the absolute truth of this... especially in regard to Shane Warne.


I could tell you about the new gigantic air freshner that's making my home smell beautifully - yet somewhat inexplicably - of jasmine green tea. It's kinda retro. My neighbour's lemon tree was a bit clumsily trimmed. Now if only I can get it to ripen its fruit...


I could tell you how I'm not so interested in my crush anymore. He tends to make disparaging comments about the fairer sex. Tsk.

See? Nothing really of interest.

I could instead tell you of my increasingly abstruse philosophically inclined interior analysis of my self and my life which is not only becoming richer but simultaneously more simple as I learn to analyse less and let go more, and leads to epiphanies of a more practical nature which in turn heads things in a more positive direction which is good, although the letting go of thinking so much part is a little scary as who am I without that!? But it's OK because everything in moderation and all that, and it's good to learn not to take everything to the extreme and relax a bit more, trust yourself and allow life to flow...


So, I could tell you these things, just to get a post written, but I don't think I'll bother you with it...

notes

Devolving: Noticed today that my nail polish perfectly matches my rubies. Impressive eh? I figure now all I need is a sugar daddy.*

Cognitive leitmotifs: For some reason the phrase raison d'etre keeps popping into my head. For about a year now I have had the phrase give me a reason pop into my head too... Guess I'm sticking to the theme but changing the languages.
I suppose next will be motivo vivere...?

Musical rivalries: The butcherbirds seem to be in vocal competition with the mudlarks in my garden. Butcherbirds have a pretty full-on call but mudlarks are rather shrill so it's hard to say who's winning.
They're both wearing the same team colours so I don't think it's too serious.

Swinger: Only a butcherbird seems to have discovered the sunflower seeds so far. He or she picks through them (a vego phase?) and then happily sits in the centre of the feeder hanging from the tree.
Not really what I had in mind but it's progress nonetheless.

Passionate plantings: Have planted some nice shrubs and moved some young Bird of Paradise plants to a more suitable locale. Seedlings I've planted so far are pale lilac petunias, berry coloured verbena and some double white impatiens to brighten up the shady spots.
Am happily planning where the herb garden will go and was ecstatic to recently discover a beautiful mint-scented shrub with purple blooms. I nearly cuddled it with joy but Bunnings was kind of busy at the time.

Next: Am feeling more excited about the coming year than I have in a long time. Perhaps the guy at the pub, who said he was a gypsy and read my palm, was right. New things are on the way. Of course I told him that could be true for anyone.
He later asked me to come back to his place for dinner and 'a video'. I declined and later wondered: what kind of 'video'...


*Yes, this revelation did involve much rolling of the eyes.

(pic of mudlark from here)

Me is high tech now

Broadband finally, finally connected. 512/128k. Yet, although an improvement, it don't seem much faster than dial up! Guess I'll have to wait for Rudd to get his 'bringing Oz into the 21st century' broadband thang happening.

Also have been suffering with no dial up as they terminated it earlier than I asked (obviously setting a date was too complex for them - and so you know, I did this so I wouldn't have to call them again). I said to the helpful person on the other end of the line (after yet again waiting half an hour for a live human) you are very nice but I hope I don't have to deal with your company ever again. And just to think, they're not even Telstra! *shudders*


So you want goss on the new digs eh? Well. It's on a quieter street* *yay* but has noisier neighbours, who are a bit on the odd side, *boo*.

The highlights are shiny new jarrah floors and a large and gorgeous kitchen. A good size for any place but mine is on the small side so it's quite luxurious.

Two lovely outdoor areas, and I again have a fair bit of birdlife around me - although they're still finding the new baths and feeders, you can't imagine how excited I was when I finally saw a wattlebird having an enthusiastic bathe the other day!
And the gardens have established trees and some climbers and balgas ('black boys' for the politically incorrect (would that be Howard?)). But the beds still have a lot of room which I'm quite happy about and am making a list and checking it twice...
Sorry, the ubiquitous Christmas Carols seem to have affected me.
My point is I'm loving thinking about the garden and all the plants I'm going to put in, including what's going to go in the herb garden.
Generally I'm planning on some cottage-type plants as well as some natives like Grevillea for the birds. Oh, and I've some rose bushes which has been nice for filling the house with floral abundance. It's been a while since I had roses, or even my own garden to create. Happy happy joy joy. (Anyone else get happy about such things?)

Oh, and joy of joys I have a bath again! This was particularly useful yesterday: I got home all hot and sweaty and plonked myself into a icy cold bath. As I closed my eyes in shock and soon bliss I sensed a sizzling and a hiss of steam. And it's only the start of summer! But don't fret pets: I have air con. Can't live without that! I'm a delicate bloom you know.


* A street in which people, unless walking a canine, curiously tend to carry bags an awful lot, including suitcases. (And no, I'm nowhere near an airport.)
---

PS - Can't go without saying YAY! We have a female PM today!!

Yoo-hoo!

Been a while, so let me get you up to date.


Moving: Grrrr...


Election: Yay!

Noted that-

a) During J Howard's speech his Mrs was telling him what to say and do (as usual). Apparently it all went sour because of his arrogance and because he stopped listening to his advisors and payed attention to Janette re career advice. Which is fair enough really. Not like his job was important or anything. Not like it was going to affect anyone else in their own careers or anything (I actually felt sorry for Costello, yes, I admit it).

b) During K Rudd's speech noted that his Mrs was looking at him with love and respect. Could read her feelings clearly on her face. Was quite lovely to see.

Also. I got quite emotional when J Gillard made her own little speech that evening. Yes, I was teary. But our first female deputy PM! I would say 'woo hoo!' but really, 'it's about bloody time' seems more appropriate.

And the next morning I awoke with a smile on my face and a song playing in my head: "Let's Hear it for the Boy".
Quite irritating, but understandable I suppose...


New Home: Only housewarming gift I've received so far is a packet of Petunia seeds in the mail from BigPond. Am considering actually using them but only if I can manage to look at the furture blooms without thinking of bloody Telstra (wankers).


My Box: (The one that's plugged in that is.*) Surprised myself with swooning over the ABC's (BBC's) Jane Eyre. I believe there was only one or two moments in which I rolled my eyes (as is my usual fashion with romances). Is this what happens when you are single for a year? You become all soppy and daydreamy? Or can I blame the dashing Toby Stephens?

You know, it was driving me nuts for a while trying to figure out who he was reminding me of. I tried to assume it was just some Hugh Grant mannerisms, but the niggle wouldn't leave me.

And, thankfully my brain only came through for me on this once the program had finished...
as it was the foppish Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen, BBC's interior design specialist.











Pretty close eh?


* Oh shush with your tittering. I can hear you!

Sun sets one last time

Am sitting here watching the sun set over the golf course whilst a mother walks her children through the 'power' sprinklers. They're running round and chasing each other with a few squeals of punctuation.
The world was coloured pink a moment ago, but now it's getting dark with just some orange and yellow tints upon the horizon.

It's my last night staying here so I'm savouring the view, the trees and the birds (would you believe I feel really mean taking their bird bath away from them?). My inclination to admire the view and read some of my book has been greatly enhanced by my dad's help with the packing, as the set top box and aerial are well packed away... and the stereo.

Anyway, this post is just to let you know that I may be kinda unreliable for a while as I don't have phone or broadband set up in the new place yet. Attempted to set up an account today but my phone died before I got to speak to anyone (a half hour on hold will do that...). The other company I rang were that flat out I had to leave a message so they could call me back (yet to happen). Oh, and I rang the gas company today but no one was there except for a recorded lady telling me they were all at training. All. of. them. I offered to keep her company but she hung up on me too. Talk about feeling snubbed!

Hmm. A kookaburra just started laughing...


(Sunset pic from unsanity.)

NICE GUYS

I never know what I think about something until I read what I've written on it. - William Faulkner

I'm always hearing how the nice guy never 'gets' the girl. I understand why this appears to be so. I've gone out with both the creeps and the nice guys.

In my life experience the nice guys have also been the creeps; they were just appearing to be nice, cause that's how they got by in the world. They're known as 'good old such and such', everyone likes them. And this is how they get away with being manipulative and controlling.

I chose to go out with (and then m-m-m... really commit to) a particular 'nice guy' particularly because he was a 'nice guy'. (Really he was not nice, more of a con man because he was actually heartless and controlling. See? Creep!) But, I thought I was being smart. I wasn't going to make that mistake again of going for the other type, the tougher or meaner guy. Of course, I thought they were nice too at first, but I was aware they had other sides to them too. Rough around the edges. Sometimes these rough edges were exciting. So I suppose it could be true that we often see 'the nice guy' as bland or dull...?



Many women don't think enough of themselves to be with a truly nice guy. We often have such a low opinion of ourselves that it would be just plain crazy to be with a guy who sincerely thinks we're great and of value. He must be nuts to look at us as special! What's wrong with him!!? So, this is often why we end up with the less-than-nice guy. He will perhaps say nice things to us - and we all want that - but really he knows our worth is less than his. We know our place and he does too.

In addition to, or instead of this, I think we pick the not-so-great guy because, well, us ladies are nurturers. We might see a guy's flaws but instead of thinking, 'Oh, this guy really needs to work on himself before he's any good for a relationship. He can't take care of himself at all. He. has. got. issues!'... We will instead think: 'Oh, isn't he sweet? He can't even take care of himself! What the poor love must have gone through... what pain he must be in! He needs my love... etc, etc.)'


Why do we do this? Again, I'm guessing it's cause we feel it gives us some worth, we feel needed. We are useful. And we are most useful of course, to the guys who are the biggest wrecks. (Of course these guys just lap it up, let us do all the work in the relationship and they never 'evolve' or 'heal' - instead it's the girl who begins to fall in a hole. And! Then! the nice guys look at this and think, 'Why is she wasting herself on that piece of shit?! I would never treat her like that!! etc, etc.')


Another reason we may go for the creep (who obviously has a heart of gold under there somewhere, he just need us to help him find it...) is because he may appear to be more exciting and/or more interesting.



Of course, all of this can come under the heading: Women who have been messed up by Daddy. Fathers have a massive impact on their daughters. Once I understood this, so much of my own 'stuff' became clearer.

What I'm saying is we find guys like 'daddy', men who will treat us as poorly as our fathers did. Firstly because that is what we know, is all we know of men, so anything else doesn't really turn-up on our radar. Secondly it's because by (unconsciously) putting ourselves through the same shit again we eventually learn how to get ourselves out of it. [Eg. one of my issues with my father is that he neglected me, he wasn't 'present' in the relationship, so I've found men (even when deliberately picking 'the nice guy'!) who will also ignore me and are not present in the relationship; so by going through that over and over I eventually learn that I deserve better and see that just because 'daddy' neglected me doesn't mean I am worthy of neglect, and learn to develop self-worth, etc, yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah...]


Anyway...


I've been thinking that, apart from the above (which everyone already knows), some nice guys perhaps are often less attractive to women because we sense they don't have a richness of spirit. Yeah, some guys are just plain shallow and dumb. That makes sense. No, not just that, what I'm getting at is that maybe we sense there isn't enough depth to some of these men. And this is important because us wonderful women, complex creatures that we are, want someone who will dare to take the time and make the effort to delve into and understand our depths, our complex nature.

This surely sounds dumb to many of you and maybe I'm not putting it very well, but I'm learning more lately about the nature of women. We have more than one side to us. We don't want to be understood merely on our social or shallow level; at face value only. We want a partner to be unafraid to see our darker side; to dare to peer into our inner world.


Of course many women, with some dark and sad issues still to deal with, would also want to avoid this type of man cause she may be fearing these aspects of herself and doesn't want to be with someone who might see them.


But still, I like this idea cause I think it can go both ways (see, now you're getting excited!). It's more about people being ready to really get to know someone else in a relationship. To be profound enough in their own life, understanding their self and selves, so that they can dare to see these darker or deeper sides of someone else.



So, maybe it's not about whether a guy is nice or not. Maybe it's just waiting for the person - this goes for men and women - who has delved through their own issues, their own shit, and got their act together enough that they're not afraid to delve into the depths of their own nature. And by being open to their own complexities they are willing to make the effort to see and understand someone else's. To dare to know someone's true nature; even with all its wildness and paradoxes. It can be scary and take some time and effort. Most of us can't be bothered with that or are too frightened.




Anyway, I've rambled on enough. I guess nice guys just have to understand that a lot of us lasses are too down on ourselves to accept someone who values them. And us lasses have to understand that a lot of guys are too messed up to be good for us, or beyond 'saving'.
So, in between, must be the souls that have done their hard work and sorted themselves out enough to be ready to really have a relationship. I suppose it needs two such people to come together for a deeper and profound connection to take place. By then we should have learnt enough about our own flaws and how to accept them, so that we can do that for someone else. ...Learned to accept that we are complex creatures but worth understanding, so that we can then do that for someone else. And on and on, etc.



Well, anyway, I want someone who is a - genuinely - nice guy but who also has great courage and depth too. And to be damn interesting! Some nice guys only have one side to them. I want to see all sides, and I want him to even know about all his sides. And I want him to be interested enough in me to take the time to get to know all of my complexities too, my wilder sides and all that. (And I'm hoping I won't settle for anything less.)



Jeez, that makes sense doesn't it?

[/end mushy ravings]

I know the answer! The answer lies within the heart of all mankind! The answer is twelve? I think I'm in the wrong building. - Charles M. Schulz

How do I Loathe thee? Let me count the ways…

Now, you probably won’t recall, but I mentioned recently that I knew ‘by heart’ another poem, (shorter than Keat’s Ode on Melancholy).

I warn you now I’m going to print it here and it’s exceptionally soppy.

It’s by Elizabeth Barrett Browning* from Sonnets from the Portuguese (probably about Robert Browning, her hubby; it’s not ‘How Do I Love Thee?’). If I recall correctly, she called it this because she knew the contents were rather soppy so pretended she was merely translating the poetry (perhaps I should label all future soppy posts ‘I blame the Portuguese’ – poor sods, what did they ever do to her?).

Really the collection is quite lovely though.

Anyway, I still love the romanticism of this sonnet; the feeling that someone’s your soul mate. Yet, I was commenting on someone’s post today about how bloody happy I am to be single. I found I felt quite strongly about it.

I’ve never lived on my own before the start of this year (well, technically I have, but never for more than a few months). I absolutely love it. So much so that I’m now a little concerned that I will never be able to live with a man ever again.

I have always cherished time on my own. In fact, when my mother would force other small children to come and play - for fear her Only Child would otherwise become socially inept - I would most often say, ‘Can they go home now?’ after about 15 minutes. She eventually gave up, poor dear.

The freedom of single life is marvellous. I cannot believe how much I’ve been missing out on being almost consistently in relationships! Is this why men would hold on to me so tightly, lest I become aware of the bliss of a life of solitude?

A life free of

snoring,

unwanted groping (when trying to sleep),

lack of groping (when it would be of comfort),

strict rules on what music I can play and when, and then dealing with his irritation at too much silence (this is the most recent ‘Effort’ I’m referring to here, ‘How can you stand it so quiet!’ Hmm, maybe because I don’t have secret fears of my conscience surfacing in the silence…!).

Having to cook, or eat (they all have enjoyed cooking thank god), a proper meal every night – I’m more of a simple girl about these things… unless I’m at a nice restaurant of course (which Effort took me to ONCE only to point out the cost of it; note, this was for my birthday).

Having to pick up after him; wet towels on beds and floors, alongside stinking dirty shirts and jocks (and, re Effort, washing all his clothes, doing all the cleaning and never once thanked – and before you get the wrong idea I was supporting myself, in fact, kind-hearted soul that I am, I was always loaning him money).

Listening intently and lovingly to him rant on about his interests and ‘funny stories’ only to have him take no interest in what I said, and even to ask me not to speak of some things at all (such as my family, friends, me, general observations, my stories, my life, movies I like, places I’ve been, things I’ve read, ETC… And yet, he would complain about the silence??).

Well, *takes deep breath* I’ll stop now before I start on one of my regular bouts of banging my head against a brick wall – in fact, I’m realising it appears that I’ve gone out with my share of brick walls…

What I’m trying to say is: this living on your own gig is rather fine (Oh God!!!! The FREEDOM!!!!!!). So, I’m wondering, if I ever do find a man who’s worth the effort, will I be able to live with him? Mayhap I’ll convince him we’re best living separately. I don’t know. I’m sure to grow out of this eventually.** But it’s going to take a pretty important guy to have me make an effort again, I will tell you now, yessirree Bob, indeedy do.

Anyway, here’s the soppy sonnet of Lizzie’s:

(Warning all Pragmatic Cold-Hearted Realists, avert thine eyes!)

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand

Henceforth in thy shadow. Nevermore

Alone upon the threshold of my door

Of individual life, I shall command

The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand

Serenely in the sunshine as before,

Without the sense of that which I forbore--

Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land

Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine

With pulses that beat double. What I do

And what I dream include thee, as the wine

Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue

God for myself, He hears that name of thine,

And sees within my eyes the tears of two.

[Fear not, this is quite likely not merely the first but indeed the last of my poetical offerings upon this blog. (Unless, of course, I inadvertently create a wondrous haiku.) And, I STILL don’t know any dirty limericks!]

* You may be not at all interested to note that an old coot once compared me to E.B.B. upon first meeting me. No, I look nothing like her, it was to do with the man I was seeing at the time with whom I had kind of ‘run off’ with, as E.B.B. did with R.B.. I met the dear old gent only once or twice but he gave me a tome of E.B.B. poems. I had already committed the above sonnet to memory. I am still impressed by his gesture.

** If I become a crazy cat lady I’ll let you know.