moves

How good is dancing? Every time I dance it's a mini-revelation. A step away from head-on-a-stick syndrome + a victory for feeling alive.

Last night Bez, Em + I went to Castro's - the new gay club down the road from my place. It was a hoot + about as much of an escape from patriotic hooliganism as we could expect to find in the Gong on Australia Day. Still plenty of flags, but the largest was draped over a stunningly long-legged drag queen. (When did Australia Day turn into Redneck Moron's Day anyway? I seem to have missed that transition point.) It was a funny mixed crowd, at least as many straight kids as gay kids, but at least it didn't feel like the usual Wollongong meat-market. I could happily have danced there all night I think. Washing the high cheeeeez factor + terrible house music down with vodka, lime + soda. Lord I love bad taste.

It's been a double dose, with my return to energy dance. Ah, serious food for the soul. Annalise is gorgeous. Dancing with her is such an amazing way for me to engage my body and feel connected - I love it. I could do it every day. And today Henry told me that I'm "graceful". Me. Graceful. Woo!

baby brain

High disclosure warning: New year brings new opportunities for navel-gazing + pondering of life, the universe + everything (as it centres around me). Anyone who’s not interested in the intimate + somewhat warped workings of my brain may like to depart Planet Claire now, because I’m about to go off on a self-indulgent rant.

I’ve been thinking.

I’m at an interesting point in my life. The first of a series of mid-way points I guess, where I realise that one phase has passed + wonder what the fuck comes next. I’m 30; I’m single; I live in a small slightly shitty city; I have an abundance of friendship + good fortune. On lots of levels I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, even though nothing has gone to plan + I’m nowhere near where I expected to be. I know myself + for the first time I feel a modicum of fondness for this person I seem to be. I could plod along like this for decades I reckon, hanging out with me mates, exercising a little creativity from time to time, earning a keep. I think I could even learn to enjoy the single life, even though I’d dig a little love + affection on a regular basis. The one big question mark is kids, + I’ve been feeling it pretty acutely over the last couple of weeks.

Aunty Ruby was late in visiting after Chrimbo. (Sorry Weeze, there was a basis to the “So what would you do if you were preggers right now?” conversation.) I had to think the whole scenario through again + I realised that I’d keep the baby if I was preggers right now. I’d be scared witless, but I’d do it. My biggest fear is missing the opportunity to have a family. And if I regret anything of the last 12 or so years of my life it’s that I didn’t pop out a bunch of sprogs early on, like I always thought I would. Now I find myself at a point where I’m over-ready to start a family but have no conventional means to do so.

Late periods have a way of kicking you in the guts + mine came straight after I’d a) spent ten bucks on the kit, + b) run into Erin in the baby-stuff-aisle at Coles. Erin is a friend-of-a-friend who is newly pregnant via donor. I found this out in the aisle mere moments after concealing the kit in my trolley. It felt like a sign that the whole thing could be done… until.

Of course the whole thing can still be done. I would like to find a way of creating the life I want for myself, preferably without slutting it around town. (I don’t think “Hey baby, wanna be my sperm donor?” is going to work for me anyway.) It blows my mind to think about the permutations + customisations that occur, the power we have to re-shape the concept of family + give it our own meaning. There’s no panic here. I’ll have my year of taking it as it comes. But at the same time I want to throw my desire out into the world, make my request of the universe (or however that hippie line works) + see what comes back to me. Keep an ear to the earth for me!

scaffolded opportunities

A big, early, glamorous return to the world of blogging was planned for this week. But lo + behold… it’s Friday… + big, early + glamorous have passed me by. (Well, maybe not big. Wot with the holiday bloat + all.) Subsumed by return to work + the reality of annual report writing, aka corporate-masturbation-interpretation. It’s the part of my job I hate the most + each summer it's upon me like the hounds of hell. Dense, ferocious + unavoidable. Forcing me to make sense of scaffolded opportunities + key performance indicators. My beautiful holiday nearly forgotten against this stark backdrop of worst-case reality… but only nearly.

It was a blast! Highlights:

• My gorgeous sis. I say it so often, I know. But seriously, two weeks together + she didn’t kill me or even need a day off. (She did, however, inform me that I’m weird on a regular basis. As if this was previously unknown.)
• The landscapes. Stunning. Finishing the walk to Wine Glass Bay, complete with several thooousand steps. I wish we'd been brave enough to swim even if it was in undies + 12 degree water!
• The fruit. Yummy. Eating a whole punnet of raspberries in one sitting. Omigod, why have I never done that before? (Yes, I am serious, this is a highlight.) The food in general. Delish, local, top quality, salt + spice squid, potato rosti, alcoholic ginger beer... what more could we ask for?
• Hobart. How much do I want to live there? Lots.
• The wildlife, even if 90% of it was squashed on the side of the road. We went on an amazing excursion to visit the fairy penguins in Bicheno. I saw a handful of echidnas and a lyre bird ran in front of us while we were visiting the huon pine forest. Amazing.
• Two new frocks. Woo hoo!

I'll aim to get some photos up on Flickr soon.

I thought I'd get back + capture new year’s resolve. Get that giant energy bubble down + recorded for posterity. Tell y’all about big plans + inventions. But when I reach the page the energy has dissipated somewhat. And why shouldn’t it? The weeks follow each other, #1 follows #52. Suddenly it’s not new anymore. We’re into double digits, soon January will be halfway + then the downhill slope... it will be June, I’ll be 31 which is nowhere near as good as 30, + we’ll hit the chrimbo rush again. Wo… sounding maudlin after a post-work beer… not what I mean to do. But why is the nye (new year energy) so hard to maintain?

I’m an ny junkie. I fall for it ever year. Two weeks of buzz followed by the slow downward spiral. My mate Ethan mirrored my thoughts in conversation the other day, talking about coming home with big plans + then watching the energy slip-slide away. Maybe we make the big plans because we’re momentarily freed from work + anything seems possible. (Or is that just the annual report talking? I don’t usually feel shackled to my job!) Over summer I find time out for thinking + writing + exploring options, + I'm sure that's got something to do with it... so the challenge is to keep finding that time!

And then there's the resolve. Bugger the big stuff... this year I am resolved to:

• Attempt karaoke.
• Avoid overdue DVD fines.
• Dance as frequently as possible.
• Give up boys, unless a stunningly RIGHT opportunity comes along. Definitely give up worrying about boys.
• Reject the plucked chicken look + grow my pit hair. (I don't care if you think I'm a smelly hippie or that I don't "look after myself".)
• Stop being anal about spelling + grammar, except when being paid for it. Avoid finding fault in emails, menus, real estate advertising... the list goes on. Accept that contemporary language use is a bunch of a55 + let it go.
• Teach myself beer appreciation. (Obviously I have the basics down, but I'd like to learn the theory!)
• Remember, above all else, that I have the power to choose my attitude + aproach to life. Remember that approaching things positively means experiencing things positively.

What are your resolutions? Do share.

Here's to a year full of positivity, friendship + fun!

annie's owl cosy

Garish crochet
maroon and black
Eyes ringed with white
Small circle of green behind each bulging black eyeball
Four eyes! Two-headed monster!
Sweet small beak, one for each face (the subtlest part)

Generous lining. Black.
Four white circles where the eyes are
empty ghosts in reverse
Maybe the maker had warmed up by the inside
Meticulousness when turned inside out
Neat perfection that comes with practice

Frill along the edge, each stitch fanning out in a graceful scallop
Remember to ask Carolyn which stitch: Double? Treble? Treble.
Distant memories of crocheting mushrooms
(fat child fingers around tiny hook, intricate instruction, ears straining)
don’t hold up to detailed investigation
Inside out, the frills become small red tongues, poking out from the blackness

Little bird, angel of the morning
Protect me
Bring dazzle to my cup and warmth to my belly
Bring smiles to the faces of those feline girls
with their languid stretches and caramel kisses
Guide us to the morning’s first laughter

happy holidays y’all!

Atomic Blondie has been thin on the ground of late, but as no indication of things to come. I’ve enjoyed my little foray into cyber-communication this year + intend to continue with added commitment, creativity + regularity! (Maybe a set of steak knives thrown in.)

For now, this photo explains my state, + my need for rest + rejuvenation. Weeze + I jet off to Tasvegas on Sunday + I plan to stay far far away from computers for the next 2½ weeks. Yay for screen-free down-time!

I was writing my Nana’s chrimbo letter on the weekend, + reflecting on the year gone by, as you do. It’s been a big one for me. Loads + loads of highlights, a couple of lowlights, but most importantly a truckload of beautiful people to keep me company, celebrate with me + steer me through the obstacles. At the risk of sounding like an overblown Oscars speech… thanks for your friendship + support in 2006. How lucky am I? Pretty bloody lucky I reckon.

pups of christmases past

I remember…
my dog Peanut
beautiful, beautiful girl

I remember the way you thrust your head between people’s legs when you wanted attention, going straight for the goolies! The way you rested your chin in my lap + snored. A gentle communication of satisfaction. A lovely peaceful sound.

I remember how proud you were when Mewi + Steve brought that Harley Davidson jacket back from China. You strutted around my birthday party like a model on the catwalk, drinking in the attention. We didn’t take a single photo + that makes me sad. But we couldn't have known that we wouldn’t have that chance again.

I remember honey coloured fur, white ruff reaching almost around your neck like a jagged semi-circle. Such unusual markings. Four white paws + a white tip to your tail. Deep black muzzle. The most gorgeous deep dark eyes. Your pink piggy belly always always made me smile. That’ll do, Pig, that’ll do.

I remember you sitting in the old outdoor chair at the earliest point of the morning, nose craned towards the first rays of sun, twitching, taking in the smells of the new day with the pot of lemongrass waving behind you. That big broad grin.

I remember your essential gentleness. How keen you were to make friends with everyone. Eager to please. A solid + stable companion + an endless source of joy in my life. You gave me so much friendship + made me laugh more times than I will ever remember. I love you.

this week i ave mostly been...

...feeling a bit sorry for meself again, it must be said. But I think I'm past it now, + thank jeeesus for that. I bore myself silly when I'm low, so hate to think how bored everyone else must be. This week saw a lot of unnecessary napping, chocolate eating + general grouchiness. I tried to balance it with Being Good To Myself stuff - long walks at the beach, plenty of vegies, Mewi's rescue remedy (go the placebo!) - but have accepted that sometimes I just need to wallow. It has to be done even if it doesn't necessarily achieve anything, no matter how good the Reasons To Wallow are. Maybe, at very best, it achieves a little balancing out of personality + renewed realisation that I prefer myself/my life/my experience of the world when I'm positive.

And there was still plenty to make me smile. Largely the people around me who I love + feel blessed by. (I posted some of this week's email banter because it demonstrates how little it takes to make me smile... a mere thimbleful of friendship, care, silliness.) A great dance class today where I got to literally shake off some of my blues. Having dinner snatched out of my hand by a cheeky seagull on Tuesday night. (Nature has a sense of humour and no respect for any of us!) Getting an invite round to Shady's + cementing a new friendship with someone gorgeous. Making the choice to stay home on a Saturday night - it might make me a geek but it's what I need + I'm getting better at recognising my needs. Manu. Margarita therapy with the work gang last night.

On that note, I'm posting the photo in spite of myself. I do hate it Bez, but I've been documenting you all week, looking silly for your conference presentation, so the least I can do is reciprocate. Next time we need to work harder on styling the Claire Looking Like An Idiot shot, so that I at least look like an idiot without a goofy hunchback and such prominent tuckshop-lady-arms. Ooops... I guess that's just what I actually look like... learning to live with it... still. Please note that I spilt the margarita prior to drinking any + only sucked it up off the table because everyone was egging me on (plus the fact that it was probably worth five bucks). It was that kinda week. New lows all round.

word of the week

punctate

1. Marked or studded with points or dots; having minute rounded spots, or (esp.) depressions resembling punctures, scattered over the surface; of the nature of or characterized by such markings.

2. As punctate-scabrous, scabrous with minute dots or points; punctate-striate, having striæ or streaks marked with dots, or formed of dots arranged in rows; punctate-sulcate, having furrows marked with dots.

3. Path. Having or coming to a definite point.

4. Having or ending in a point; pointed.

babay pig tigers

ME: You know what... I feel mildly better! Special presents and visits from Smokey, Bez's super-special shoes, morning coffee, a trolley-load of cake and birthday celebrations to plan. Thanks guys. You're the bestus! Grumpy Claire

S: B's shoes are fantastic however I heard that the shoes are made from the skins of baby (sorry babay) pig tigers who didn't make it i.e. eaten by mummy not-pig tiger.

B: hehe. s yr funny. i had to recycle those babay tigers because they were so special. don't be sad claire, there are lots of unfortunate people in the world, and you have lovely people around you, and you have lots of lovely shoes.

DISCLAIMER: All good ideas in this post blatantly stolen from Bez + Smokey.

me + mr t do philosophy

ME: Bez says there's something freaky going on with the stars. Any more news?

MR T: Yeh, I'm not sure. I'm more of a star enthusiast than expert. How’s things?

M: I've moved past my momentary interest anyway. I checked the Herald horoscopes + they told me I was feeling enthusiastic + energetic. Couldn't really be more wrong. Last night I decided that 2007 will be my year of accepting aloneness. No more pursuing of boys from 1 January.

T: We're all alone deep down no matter what, hanging out for those brief moments of intimacy... sigh…

M: You've come over all buddhist on me. I'm not too comfortable with the concept of embracing aloneness. But I'm learning to cope.

T: Just a case of getting to point where you enjoy your life well enough.

M: I live in serious anticipation of "enjoying my life well enough". Any advice on achieving that one, oh sage master? I don't think that baking in my own juices here in aircon deficient library land is aiding the cause.

T: Yeh I dunno, to me it seems that you've got everything in place how you want it, you're just craving some sidedish of man gravy to accompany it. You love your job (deep down), you dig wollongong (even more), + you like your place. So that's all pretty solid. You could take up big game hunting maybe?

M: You're right, as usual. I don't want to want the gravy, but I do. The merciless killing of large creatures could be the answer I guess. So could a good slap or my cold turkey approach. No one round to slap me so leaning towards the latter. I should have auditioned for that nunnery reality show after all. That would have made non-pursual of boys much easier.

word of the week

This week we have a toss up between envenomation and interconnectivity, both courtesy of Crazy Nattie + both beyond proper definition by the OED. Nat is a wonderful flame-haired
colleague of mine. As far as I'm concerned, every office should have one. She's an unashamed sci-fi geek, a font of curious knowledge + a speaker of her own mind. She's seriously dirty + brazenly honest. She peppers my day with such gems as "Are you on the rag yet Claire? Cos I'm overdue.", "Jesus people are full of shit." + "Have I told you to fuck off yet today?" (directed at her boss), exclaimed in the loudest of tones and accompanied by a cackling laugh. All management exercises are refered to under the blanket term of "corporate masturbation" + all colleagues are referred too as "luvvie" or "that arsehole". When she laughs you can hear it through the whole office + as the sound travels people's faces light up. I've been feeling a bit envenomated myself this week, but Nat never fails to bring a smile to my dial. We love ya Nattie!

envenom
1. To venom (a person, an animal); to poison by contact, bite, inoculation.
2. To put venom or poison on (a weapon, etc.); to taint (the air, ground, etc.) with poison; to render noxious or poisonous.
3. To infuse venom or bitterness into (actions, relations, etc.); to impart bitterness to (the feelings or words of a person); to embitter, make virulent.
4. To impregnate with moral ‘venom’; to corrupt, vitiate.

inter
Denoting ‘Between or among other things or persons; between the parts of, in the intervals of, or in the midst of, something; together with; between times or places, at intervals, here and there’

connectivity
The characteristic, or order, or degree, of being connected (in various senses).

PS: Interconnectivity = corporate masturbation.

illustration friday: clear

Finding clear space to feel what I need to feel.

you must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it

I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy… The matter is difficult to put into words. For fear, real fear, such as shakes you to your foundation, such as you feel when you are brought face to face with your mortal end, nestles in your memory like gangrene: it seeks to rot everything, even the words with which you speak of it. So you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don't, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.

From 'Life of Pi' by Yann Martel

mixed up...

I've been thinking about ideals + expectations. How pervasive they manage to be, regardless of how flexible we think we are or how loose our plans are for life. In the background there's always the unspoken recipe: the ingredients that we deliberately prepare + mix up, all a contribution towards a bigger whole. The hopes + dreams. Those little voices that say "if I head down X path, then Y will happen".

But sometimes Y doesn't happen.

Sometimes the recipe goes wrong, or you're missing a necessary ingredient. Maybe the sugar is left out + things don't taste as sweet as you'd hoped. Maybe - if the universal you is anything like me - you burn that last batch of biscuits + that makes you cry. All the frustration seeps out + the experience sours. Your cooking sucks! You'll never make a decent biscuit again! Why do you even frickin bother, when nothing turns out the way it's supposed to?! All fears + criticisms surface to spell out D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R. The internal Drama Queen springs from nowhere to box you round the ears. But as quickly as she arrives she's gone again.

A mate turns up to put the kettle on + dry your tears. She has a packet of honey jumbles in her bag + they taste just fine.

I'll have a pink one please.

this week i ave mostly been...

eating…
--mangoes. Thank you thank you thank you for summer fruit + the advent of mango season. I could eat ten of them in a row. (Or perhaps not, but I want to eat ten in a row… if only to see what happens.) I can never resist sucking the seeds, in an attempt to get at every last drop of goodness, and then I end up with stringy mango teeth. It is a price I am willing to pay.
--chocolate hazelnut nougat. Smokey bought an enormous bar of it at Legs11 on Friday night + it was divine. Mmmm… nougat. Thanks Smokey!
--hot lemon + honey. Too many colds going round for my liking. Stay away.

smiling at…
--Emma Magenta. I bought The Peril of Magnificent Love, an incredibly gorgeous book, + had a little cry when I read it last night. No wonder… our heroine discovers love’s path is fraught with illusion and strewn with disappointment. Nevertheless, [she] overcomes her disillusions and finds new possibilities and strength in the lessons she has learned. (Stolen from official blurb.)

This could be another case of Clairey succumbing to twee sentimentality, but it so isn’t. Magenta’s drawings are stunning – simple but rich + multi-layered. The kind of drawing style that I covet in intense + unspeakable ways. She speaks so honestly about the risks we take, + the rewards we find, when we are willing to love ourselves magnificently.

--my family + that bloody stubborn streak that runs through every one of us. I want to relinquish it but I’m fighting against the gods of familial conditioning. The alternative – as always – is to laugh.

--Ben. I’ve had a shitty morning at work. Showdown with the office dragon + lots of shifting of furniture. Stiff neck, headache, general grumps. I run into Ben + he gives me one of his hugs, his big embrace that makes my soul soar. I feel lifted. I feel like I could melt. And no, I do not want to get into his pants.

--Lady Adi. You go girl! I can’t express how good it is to be sharing this journey of re-discovery with you. I know it sounds cheesey but it’s the truth. I feel braver having you out in the big bad world with me, exploring the same ground + breaking those invisible rules. How free are we? How good does it feel? Long live the dirty thirties I say!

listening to…
--the pod on shuffle between la Gong + the Can. Lazy but so good.
--a fabulous country-ish mixed tape from Shady – no idea who any of the artists are but I will be grilling her when we meet next.
--Jose… when in doubt, still pulling Jose Gonzales out. Lord I love that man.

watching…
--Season One of Grey’s Anatomy with Weeze. Embrace the guilty pleasure.
--Laurel Canyon on DVD with me ma. When will I learn to pick raunch-free options for this kind of shared viewing? It was great though. Frances McDormand rocks + I could watch Christian Bale all day. As always, much empathy for tales of dysfunctional families.

word of the week

titivate
1. a. trans. To make small alterations or additions to one's toilet, etc. so as to add to one's attractions; to make smart or spruce; to ‘touch up’ in the way of adornment, put the finishing touches to. Also with off, up.

Sounds rude but I don't think it is. We're all titivating in front of the mirror all the time. To "titivate off"... well that's a whole other story!

Word of last week was molosser, courtesy of Big Brain Bez. The Oxford doesn't even know bout this one, although they do define molossian as "designating or relating to a breed of large dog resembling a mastiff, said to have originated in Molossia in ancient Epirus". How apt is that for describing a big bruiser of a dog? Try it next time you run into one + check out the warm vocab-enhanced glow it brings.

I am going to be good tomorrow + make time for a proper post. Damn you busy life/long but not-long-enough weekend/endless wasted hours in a car to Canberra/new boyfriend-type-person/giggly breathless phone conversations! I need double the available time. At least.

multi-tasking...

Attempting a fit-everything-into-a-half-hour-lunchbreak challenge. Typing + eating are not sympathetic activities though. Free-falling salmon and asparagus pie crumbs. Fingers sticky with freshly cut orange. Please don't consider the state of my keyboard or the bacterial ramifications of this post.

Now that I'm here I'm wondering what to say. A colleague recently commented that blogs are boring. And I concede that she's right. But here we all are. By 'we all' I mean me + the resounding silence that meets me when when I throw my bits n bobs out to the worldwideweb. It raises all sorts of questions, the most persistent being WHY? I'm having fun okay. Leave me alone. (Oh, hang on, you already are.)

This week's Illo Friday topic is smitten. I've had no big brainwaves about what to create, but it is a very appropriate topic because I have another crush. 500th for the year. At this point I need to confess that I've returned to the internet meat-market (please note: with many reservations + a sad sense of resignation). I've been bored okay? If there's no possibility of romantic spark in my life I go mildly insane... + if there's no possibility of a shag... there, said it. I can admit to these sad truths, high-disclosure queen that I am. So I have a crush. On someone I haven't met. The basis of the crush is that his name is Gus + he has a quirky sense of humour. That's all it takes. Decent name, ability to make me giggle in some unpredictable way. He's a bald Kiwi with creative writing aspirations. Sound familiar? Okay, so I have a crush + some alarm bells echoing in the distance. I'm meeting him on Saturday + pledging not to spend any more time thinking about it until then. Woops... too late.

There is something so exciting about a crush. They should bottle it + sell it.

illustration friday: trouble

there will be trouble

mixed media

this week i ave mostly been...

eating…
--pantry remnants. What is it with me + supermarkets? I cannot manage shopping at the moment, although I did at least pick up some fresh vitals this week. Oh fruit, food of the gods.
--embarrassing confession coming… coke zero. I don’t know why but stress + fatigue have lead me down the caffeine-+-chemicals pathway this week. I’ve done it twice now, very unlike me, + I will ditch it after today. Promise.
-- a great cous cous salad, with chicken, roast red peppers, lots of herbs + some dried currants + apricots.

smiling at…
--my gorgeous sister. It has to be said again, sorry! The check-in phonecalls + beautiful card saved me. What would I do without you Weeze?
--Bez + her outlook on life. ‘Nacho Libre’ was potentially the worst movie I’ve ever seen… but also an enormous bundle of laughs in your company mate. I haven’t giggled like that in eons.
--my idiot love life… still. Okay, so smiling + crying in equal measure, but that’s the nature of it. Thank you to CJ for summing it up so aptly with the phrase If you can’t live without me, why aren’t you dead?

listening to…
--back catalogue from A Tribe Called Quest. Good walking music. 'Bonita Applebum' remains at the top of my list of potential all-time-faves, even though I will never have the discipline to commit to one song.

watching…
--Jack Black’s unlikely facial contortions. See above.

illustration friday: quiet

falling (quiet after explosion)

watercolour + pencil