for weeze

for weeze

for weeze

little miss basketcase

I’m having a basketcase day. Not in any overblown kinda way. The melodrama ratio is not as high as it could be. The histrionics quotient is under control. I’m not shouting or cursing or crying. But I do feel severely wobbly round the edges + like the drama could kick in if it wanted to.

There are so many emotions swirling round my little brain. I can’t keep track of which ones are important + which are merely distracting me with BS. I’m feeling left out… the Crafties are planning to craft without me (as I encouraged them to); Holl + Ethan are looking for a new flattie (as they need to); Sarah didn’t send me an invitation to her movie night (because she knows I won’t be here). Then I’m craving solitude + some serious downtime. All of a sudden I’m lonely. Or I’m questioning my decisions. Or I’m feeling like throwing a tanty. Boo bloody hoo.

At the bottom of it all is fear, + fear comes with any major change. The desire for things to stay the same locking horns with the desire for new adventures. I want both but of course that’s not possible. A static state isn’t even possible. I could shut myself down in the same position forever + things would simply change around me. Sometimes I can accept that. Sometimes I’m shitscared by it. Fear is a natural by-product, as is excitement, + I have to roll with that. I’ve set the wheels in motion + now I have to let them roll me where they will.

Suddenly the wheels are in motion
And I, I'm ready to sail any ocean
Suddenly I don't need the answers
Cos I I'm ready to take all my chances with you

Who? You? Yes, me. It’s sometimes scary to take my chances with me… but it’s exciting at the same time. And I’m all I’ve got.

[How bloody psychic is Smokey? She sent me the lovely lyrics featured above just as I was writing this. “Song in head today is 'Suddenly' from Xanadu. Apparently Olivia NJ sang this with Cliff Richard.” Thanks mate.]

I’m going to have my basketcase day. I may even go home, skip trivia, grouch around, cry over a hot bath + a glass of red. I may feel slightly shite all week. That’s okay. It happens + it will pass.

for weeze

for weeze

when we go to melbourne
we can host opulent dinner parties for new + old friends

powerful owls

The very talented Miss Birdsworth made this last week to cheer me up. It worked! It's a very special portrait of me, Lizzie + Nicole finding our inner powerful owls at Tumba in February. (No luck with the real thing but there will be more torchlight walks + conversations with brumbies next year I'm sure!)

Thanks Elizabeth - you're a sweetheart!

for weeze

it's in the songs

Phew! I've survived a rocky weekend. Don't get me wrong... Chess was a blast, the Hope Street Markets were inspiring, I loved lunch at Two Good Eggs, King Street was fun, + the company was top-notch. (Thank you everyone.) But I was mildly messy due to ongoing panic over my move + two insomniac nights. Yesterday I hit a wall, picked a fight, had a cry, lost it somewhat. I was pulled back from the brink by The Dude, Holley's burritos + some (more) chocolate. It felt awfully close for a second there though.

I've noticed that lots of peeps have been feeling awfully close... or at the very least mildly messy. I think it's just one of those patches where we have to hold, seek out all available opportunities for hugs, + keep muttering this too will pass to ourselves. Cos of course it will pass!

This morning the radio kept speaking to me as I pondered my approach to this fresh new week.

First the slap...
I don't know why (she's always complaining)
A roll of the dice (she's always complaining)
A twist of the knife (she's always complaining)
Trouble + strife (she's always complaining)
What can I say (she's always complaining)
(The Skybombers)

Then the sympathy...
I guess I'll let it slide by
I wanna take it slowly honey
I'm feeling like a fake
Every move I make
And I don't know why
The world is feeling
Like it's passing me by
I'm fixing to lose it
And I don't know why
(Ben Kweller)

And finally the encouragement...
Sometimes when we fall
We just land in the right place
Cos we're magnetic
And we land in the right place
(Faker)

Bring on that Right Place! I'm ready!

what do i do when lightening strikes me?

Elton had it all wrong when he said that "sorry" seems to be the hardest word. (We've all seen the monumentally positive power of sorry in recent months, after all.) Goodbye is waaaaaay harder. There are good goodbyes + bad goodbyes but, for old softy Claire here, there are rarely easy goodbyes. Predictably - given that there's only four weeks now til my move - my goodbye moments are starting to hit a little harder + faster. I'm feeling it, dammit.

The first big one kicked in the day that I resigned. Carolyn got teary over a celebratory drink that afternoon + of course that set me off. She has since been banned from displaying emotion until at least the farewell party.

I had a weird goodbye moment when I went arse-over-teakettle on the back step + did aforementioned damage to back bottom left rib. The fact that I had just quit my job hit me acutely as I lay winded in the rain, contemplating severe spinal damage. Funny that. The fact that I am about to quit the best ever sharehouse hit me acutely when Holley, Sal + Ethan turned up at the hospital a couple of hours later with love in their hearts + chocolate in their hands . See... good and bad.

Last week I sifted through a large grab-bag of personal emails + plunged head-long into goodbye moments. The weird thing about some of those goodbyes was that they had nothing to do with my move. Relationships change + shift regardless of whether I stay or go (now). I have a strong tendency to hold on but not everyone lets me. There will always be the Ev's of this world who refuse to be held. As my ma says - in one of her very rare pieces of wisdom - there are friends for a reason, friends for a season + friends for life. Last week I farewelled some of those seasonal friends + shed a tear for good times past. It was hard not to when stumbling across the sparkling email repartee of Bez + Mr T. Example: the 5-day a week centrifuge is spinning out of control. today, a mere day, is just one little spokey dokey clinking with joy. Ah Thorny, how I loved you + how I release you!

On the weekend I started packing in earnest. I needed to get some momentum up in order to feel like I'm on top of things, but momentum is a double-edged sword. With it comes the acceleration of change - good and bad. Monsieur Change does not discriminate between the two. I packed up my books - good. I swaddled my pretty glassware - good. I pulled all the posters down off the walls - bad. I stumbled across a box of love letters from he-who-shall-not-be-named - very bad.

I don't know what the moral of this story is... + my small handful of loyal readers know that I do usually lean towards a moral. I guess it's just that dems da breaks. Life is full of the good + the bad, the lightening strikes + the snuffed out candles, the goodbyes + the au revoirs. And there's nothing we can do to change that... regardless of whether we stay or go (now).

for weeze

for weeze

livin + lovin

I had the gorgeous gentle weekend that I needed. Spent Saturday in a creative headspace playing with party plans + invitations. (One of my all-time favourite activities... almost as good as celebrating itself!) I had a ball at the Oxfam trivia fundraiser that night + then spent most of Sunday chilling with Annie, Genevieve + Olive up at the treehouse. The girls have an incredibly warm home, filled with treasures + music + love. And of course they always turn out an amazing feast + have to roll me down their million steps to send me home again.

At some point in the afternoon we got talking about love + marriage + maybe even the baby carriage. Not exactly an unusual topic of conversation, but it was funny cos it tapped straight into a current theme. I love it when ideas/musings/conversations converge + pop out into the open at around the same time. The current ideas/musings/conversations relate to romance + expressions of romantic love. It's an enormous topic + not something I can do much for in one little post... but please humour me while I ramble on for a bit.

First, let me say that romance is a funny theme for a gal who is about as far away from 'in love' as she's ever been. For the first time in living memory I'm alone and comfortable with that. Don't get me wrong: I'm not claiming that I'll be alone +/or comfortable forever. Me + Monsieur Change know each other pretty well by now + I'm not cocky enough to suggest that any state is forever. But for now I'm reveling in this unfamiliar state of comfortable-ness. Single life no longer freaks me out, being childless doesn't regularly send me into panic, + I'm not even that concerned about my nooky drought. I can suddenly live without. What I can't live without is love + friendship + romance. And I think the really stunning realisation of the last six months is that I don't need a partner for that. I live my life surrounded by love. I have the most gorgeous group of friends. I am incredibly lucky.

What does romance have to do with anything? Well that's the stunning bit. I've always been a romantic + I've always aimed that squarely at the love or lust-interest in my life; seeking romance in romantic love + wondering why the results are often disappointing. But the nature of romance is suddenly as clear as fresh new nail polish. It has nothing to do with flashy weddings, expensive gifts or tables for two at opulent restaurant. It has everything to do with imagination, creativity + care.

Going by the dictionary, romance is...
--characterised by imagination and passion
--readily influenced by the imagination
--appealing to the imagination and feelings
--imaginary; purely ideal
--fantastic, extravagant, quixotic; going beyond what is customary or practical

Going by me, romance is...
--a little note from Holley on the kitchen bench
--Weeze on the other end of the phone when I need a cry
--Mewi on the other end of the phone when she needs a cry
--Toni calling me girl
--a take-home pack of Emma's carrot cake
--a shirt that Annie tailor-made for me
--Genevieve's brownies
--Smokey leaving something crazy on my desk
--Carolyn knowing when something's wrong without having to ask
--a hug from Jen or Simon or Steve
--a cuddle with any of the kids
--being jumped on by Nicky
--a homemade necklace in my colours from Bella
--Bec being forever interested in my creative work
--Celeste telling me she loved my visit
--Ethan offering to check my oil before I go away
--Judy sending me an article on crossing the Nullarbor
--coffee with Kristy
--a cheeky email from Sarah or Bez
--a phone date with Adi
--Nats giving it to me straight
--Scott saying something outrageous
--a compliment from Sal
--Shady's enthusiasm
--Jaci's exquisite gift-wrapping
--Birdsworth's comments
--a bunch of scarlet flowers from Amy's garden

Thank you all (+ more) for bringing romance into my life!

for weeze

I somehow managed to lose the back of this one so Weeze might have to fill in the blanks. I think it went something along the lines of...

when we go to melbourne
we can wear wild outfits
+ you know I will!

Pop culture aficiandos may recognise it as Shirley Manson from Garbage. Please don't hold that against me. Crap band. Cool outfit.

it's in the stars

Gemini: Sometimes it's necessary to take a cold hard look at your life + see where there are things that simply do not belong there anymore. This is the right time in your life to do this, shed some dross from your life + lighten the load.

mysteries

Technology remains a mystery to me + that's the way I like it. I feel a deep kinship with children who believe that the television is populated by small + versatile actors. If I apply the same logic, my iPod must be a timeshare holiday house for Joan Armatrading, Patti Smith + the Arcade Fire. They can't possibly all live there at the same time so I'm guessing the changeover happens beneath my very nose in the dead of night. Joan ambles out + Patti lopes on in. That big Arcade Fire organ takes a bit of manoeuvring.

It doesn't matter how many hours of music I load to the thing, the JAF (Joan Armatrading Factor) remains in affect. I admit I do own the best-of, + it is substantial, but surely not enough to turn up in every second shuffle, or even every fifth.

It's my technological mystery of the moment. Is the entire shuffle concept a lie? Is the nature of randomness random enough to throw out the same results continuously? Does it have anything to do with butterflies' wings or Brazil? Let me know if you have any theories. Patti + Joan will act as your guides.

PS: How cool is Arcade Fire's site design? Take a few minutes to check out the illustration if you have a few minutes up your sleeve. Yes... okay... you can use the few minutes you might have spent pondering my mystery...

treasure

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of a sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

e. e. cummings

trash-bag

Today feels kinda like a day for returning to the blog, kinda like a day where there is nothing to be said at all. I'll slap some stuff down + see what happens. Let the words decide. Trash or treasure? It could go either way.

For the 0.2% of my people who don't yet know... I broke a rib, nana-style, a week + a half ago. I was racing a basket of washing through the rain + turned impromptu acrobat when I hit some slippery steps, completely knocking the stuffing out of meself in the process. It was a scary exercise + definitely not something I'd endorse. It's also plunged me into a melancholy, I must admit.

I've never been a great invalid. I get all mopey + pathetic + bored. So far the rib incident has been akin to a bad case of laryngitis I had just before P + I broke up. Day One of silence was almost a buzz. I'd never really lost my voice before + it had novelty value. By Day Seven I was ready to scream... although, of course, I couldn't. The novelty of my first broken bone has completely + utterly passed. I'm now oscillating between hammy hypochondria + genuine pain-fest. I keep waiting to snap out of it + feel consistently better. And I guess I will. In six weeks when the fracture has actually healed. For now I can survive with hurting a bit, not being able to walk much, not being able to lift stuff + generally not being able to do exactly what I want to do. I am thankful that it wasn't anything worse. A broken arm, for example, or a crushed skull. But when I'm ouchy + grumpy the tendency is to return to woeful-invalid-girl. Moan moan moan. Get over yourself woeful-invalid-girl!

for weeze

for weeze