Of Paddocks and Procrastination

Do you ever get tired of living in the real world?

Do you sometimes feel that even Fantasyland is not enough? The return to university is looming, and the realisation that I am going to spend the next few months learning about Litigation, the Law of Business Organisations, and Advanced Torts is setting in. This makes me somewhat suicidal.

I am fighting all temptation to run away to my Dad’s farm in rural New Zealand. There I will drive tractors, raid his wine cellar and sit in paddocks wearing gumboots as I write songs on a battered guitar, the only light coming from the stars and moon.


I realise the impossibility of this. So instead I have changed my subjects to Media Law, Law and Religion and Law and Sexuality.

Heh heh heh… take that mandatory pre-requisities.

Eeep… I just did a diary post. After we banned them. Ok… time for a serious post then…

The Bottom of the Ladder

I have previously written about the joys of climbing my rope ladder into my own land at the top of the Magic Faraway Tree. Or, for all those not so familiar with Enid Blyton, perhaps I don my fur coat and step through the wardrobe to gallivant with Aslan in Narnia.

My magic faraway tree?

Translation: it’s fun to let your mind run away from your real life circumstances to a much happier place. My anal tendencies regarding cleanliness and order have lead some to suggest that my happy place is the Ikea showroom. And whilst I cannot deny the joy of Daim Bars and Swedish meatballs, if I have to represent my happy place in retail form, I’d like to think it is Kikki K. Maintaining that Swedish sense of decorated order, but with polite thank you notes.

My representations of happy places have been previously documented. To recap: Fantasyland was Brooklyn, NY. I had issued a Visa to my special place to an equally special someone, and life was just grand.

Aaah Brooklyn.... Sausage King. What's not to love?

This little imaginary journey sustained me throughout 25 000 words of law essays and take home exams, and the accompanying music was the soundtrack to my semester. However it seems all good things must come to an end.

This particular fantasy was grounded in a small degree of reality. A few moments of flirtation and stolen glances as by chance we both frequented the same establishment one Saturday night. From this fleeting encounter I gave myself permission to dream.

And dream I did. However reality intervened. A meeting brought my fantasy companion into reality. And all was not as it seemed.

Not only was my imagination incorrect, it seemed this little journey could not longer be sustained.

What now? Where was I to venture when burdened with the stresses of work, university, writers’ block, insomnia and any other unpleasant aspect of life?

Do I find a new fantasy? Or should I do as Miss L advises, and maintain a catalogue of fantasy scenarios? When one fails, there are four others waiting to be resumed?

Had I put to much faith in one of the lands at the top of my ladder to the detriment of others? As the God of my own worlds, had I loved one too much, forcing the others to wither and suffer death from neglect?

Perhaps. Where to from here then? Do I recreate another land of imagination in the hope that it is better able to sustain me than my previous construction?

Or perhaps I should just remain firmly grounded in reality. At least then my imagination could not disappoint me.


And because this was such an unusually depressing post from me, here is some footage to make you smile





Happy times indeed.

What's Love Got to Do With It?

Welcome, one and all to a new regular feature of this little spot: the Mass-Debate. Yes, say it out loud. It’s rude. And funny. Ha ha ha…. (see, laughter!)

Anyway, this idea sprouted directly from a conversation between the two contributors to this site as to an issue directly related to relationships and dating. We disagreed on this issue, and both began stating our cases as to why we were correct.

Then, as great minds so often do, we came to the same idea: why not redirect this energy to a more permanent form, complete with structured sentences, and less wine.

So here you have it: The Mass-Debate!

Topic One: Is love really necessary?

Carrying the flag for love is Miss A, whilst Miss L argues the point that we’re all just fine the way we are, without those pesky emotions getting in the way.

Here you go… sit down, strap in and we hope you enjoy….

This Modern Love: The affirmative from Miss A

It must be the Libran in me, but I love Love.

However let me clarify. I love deep, true and private love. I absolutely despise twee, commercialised conceptions of love. Public displays of affection make me physically ill. In fact, my friend and I have been known to throw bread rolls at those who offend our senses of public decency by engaging in some form of tongue war.

I cannot comprehend ‘chick flicks’ and am perhaps the only member of my close circle who just doesn’t quite ‘get’ Twilight (the wayfarers however, yes). Similarly, grand gestures give me no joy- the dozen roses, the teddy bears, the Valentines Day pressure- not for me.

What I do appreciate is that unparalleled friendship, bond and understanding that is only possible between two people intimately involved. Having one person able to identify your every emotion just by the way you move your hands, divert your eyes and your vocal inflections is both frightening and incredibly special.

Having someone know all of your stories, but still be happy to sit through them as you absent mindedly repeat the tale, someone that knows that it is not words that are necessary in times of crisis, but the ability to mix a good gin and tonic.

What is Love?

Love is coming home to see your boyfriend changing the oil in your car to save you having to pay for it a week before you are leaving him to go pursue London adventures.

Love is him crying at the airport dropping you, even though you will be back in a week.

Love is deciding to order takeaway so you can sit and watch Masterchef together rather than worrying about dinner.

Love is sitting in the rain, watching him play rugby every weekend for years. Love is going to his gig and watching the same songs every time, but still getting a little excited when you hear the one you know is about you.

Love is hangovers shared. Streaky day old makeup, that undeniable ‘day after drinking’ smell, and dissolving two Berocca’s rather than one.

Love is pain. Love is paranoia. Love is jealousy. Love can really hurt.

But how can one appreciate joy without its relative evil twin? Without resorting to crude make up sex references, there is something to be said for disagreement as cathartic, developmental and evolutionary to a relationship.

The pain, the hurt and the feeling of vulnerability we feel are directly related to the care, and reflective of the importance and value we place on the relationship.

To discount love for fear of hurt is to reject feeling.

I would rather endure all the lows so I can keep topping my memory bank of highs. For even when I am alone I can recall first dates, walks in the rain, nights spent in bed, man stroking your hair as you sing your favourite tunes together. I can recall holidays, birthdays, adventures and laughter, yet in all of my relationships, I struggle to remember disagreement despite its obvious presence.

And besides, without pain, how could someone produce lyrics such as these? (and how could we both empathise, and swoon to them at the same time?)

You won’t be forgotten when you leave,
You won’t fade away in the windmill of my mind
You will be named in song, that I’ll sing and suffer in a strict 4/4 time

(Thanks Jack!)

Love is Gone:Negative from Miss L

Ahhh does it really have to be 500 words long???? I’m really sick at the moment, and so I probably make no sense, but I’ve just written things I think are true and I hope it collectively relates to the question.

Some conclusions I have made following my own, combined with others’ similar, romantic experiences:

1. You can’t rely on a boyfriend’s love to make you happy. You need to be happy within yourself, and love yourself, before you can love someone.

2. Men can change their mind about how they feel about you, extremely quickly. Whether you are extremely sensitive emotionally, or not, you are going to be hurt, because he will change his mind. After this has happened a few times, you will be scared to go out with anyone new, and probably find yourself focussing your romantic energy into a narrow ‘top five crush system’. Crush #1 not fulfilling you today? Move onto Crush #2, and so on. My top five crushes include men who are wholly unattainable. No disappointment is possible. I am safe. Hopefully this unrealistic world I am fully engaged in, will be submerged by a happier reality one day!

3. While noone wants to be alone and unloved, I would much prefer to be alone than be in a self destructing relationship which will harm my esteem for at least twice as long as we are/were together. Some people say that all change, (sorry .... yr 11 english .... ) is good change. But in regards to relationships, surely the good change which inevitably follows a bad breakup or hurtful romantic experience, could have occured much earlier if you weren't a damaged soul for months? Surely, being upset and living an insular life for a certain amount of time was not as helpful as if you had avoided the trauma in the first place?!?!

4. You are not alone if you surround yourself with your closest friends. Meet your girlfriends for breakfast. It’s good.

5. If I am to venture into a 'love situation' soon, I feel at present my one relationship non-negotiable is having someone who is supportive of me, and encouraging what is the very best I can be, because that is exactly where my interests would lie towards them. Maybe we just need to be more selective in who we let in to our hearts: I have known some girls who have moved from man to man within weeks (sometimes days) of each other, and I certainly discount the belief that this is a natural, healthy and youthful living style. I think it has an overall degrading quality, and is psychologically confusing.

love should never be an aim… if it happens, it happens, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. It is too tiring and upsetting in the end, if you invest energy and emotion into a Retard just because you're seeking a life filled with it.

[I may have to edit this when I am feeling better. Sorry if you feel you have become more stupid after reading what I've written. I hope it at least makes some sense.]

I have never debated before.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

I See You Baby... online

I really should learn to follow my own advice. Truly.

I previously counselled against gleaning information via the www about current, potential or former partners. Those cold hard facts, or even unsubstantiated allusions bite like little bullets at our hearts.

It can be a change in ‘relationship status’ on Facebook, incriminating photos posted of your man with new women or indeed finding his own cyber contributions to (far less noteworthy) blogs.

I have two particular incidents of information gathering (a far more flattering term than plain old stalking) which stand out in my mind.

The first was soon after meeting a gentleman who would come to occupy a not-insignificant portion of my formative years. After a period of courtship, I did what any self-respecting Generation Y member does: visits Google for some sneaky research.

After the standard Facebook references, Number 1 result after a name search was a contribution made to an online study forum for the Higher School Certificate from many, many years ago. This individual had posted an essay used for an English assessment, complete with abbreviations “u” in place of “you” and “2” in place of “to”.

Before I even began contemplating whether it was ever acceptable to use personal pronouns in formal literature assessments, I was overwhelmed with absolute humiliation that something so abhorrent to me (poor grammar) had apparently crept into my list of acceptable qualities in a partner.

However I was smitten, and rather than contemplate a future of monotonous conversations devoid of witty language manipulations, substituted instead with grunts and moans, I forgave such a crime.

This momentary omission in good judgement caused me months in relationship pain an anguish, resulting in an ultimate demise. Whilst the death of the affair is more than likely not connected to his absolute language rape, in future I shall certainly be more critical of the vocabulary faculties of potential partners.

The second occasion of ill-advised stalking happened just minutes ago, and prompted me to write this post as a form of therapy.

I was happily doing ‘research’ on a certain gentlemen I have a sweet spot for, when I happened upon information regarding his previous girlfriend.

You may wonder where I found such information…. Facebook? Twitter? A blog? Godforbid Myspace?

None of these.

No, it was Wikipedia.

She is so accomplished in her field of creativity she has a freaking Wikipedia posting.

Besides my HSC results, this blog forms the peak of documentation of my online success (fml much?).

So now, I’m feeling quite unworthy and pathetic,

Why? Am I pathetic? Yes, quite possibly. I googled. I stalked. Rather than watch re-runs of Harry Potter on Channel 9 like every other normal (?) person, I sit in my study, blasting Cream and brushing up my Private Eye skills.

Unworthy? Perhaps not. Considerations as to the suitability of creative folks for non-creative people is subject for further blog fodder, however needless to say, I was perfectly happy in my own skin until I began comparing myself to a person who not only no longer features in this man’s life, but now lives overseas and is dating a member of a rather famous band.

Moral of the story: Stop stalking! Back away from the computer. Go for a run, go to a café, write some lyrics, have a double gin.

Or even better, write a blog post telling the cyber world detailing just how pathetic you are.