Plans change.

You’re probably wondering why I have a picture of the inside of the Peter MacCallum Cancer Institute (The Peter Mac) on a blog post titled “Plans change”. Let me tell you why…………

I had plans. BIG plans. Seven weeks overseas visiting Ireland, Scotland, England, Wales, France, Germany, Italy, Austria and Greece. I have had to adjust these plans a little bit.

According to Encyclopedia Google the quote “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry” is the modern translation of “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.” from Scottish poet Robert Burns’ “To a Mouse.” I always thought it was written by John Steinbeck, but he only pinched a teeny bit of it to use as the title of his famous novel ‘Of Mice and Men’.

Cancer will make you change your plans. My dad has cancer. Lung cancer. He was diagnosed about 2 months ago. This is not his first cancer. It started with the melanomas. Then there was the squamous cell carcinoma on the left side of his neck a few years ago. Every visit to the Peter Mac had the family on edge. What was going to be cut off today? What else had they found?

The relentlessness of a post-cruise bout of pneumonia led to the doctors taking a lung x-ray which revealed the cancerous tumour on the left lung and subsequent testing led to the discovery of the bonus little tumours on the right lung.

Last week things got life-threateningly scary for dad. We were at the pointy end of things and the point was pressing into him pretty hard.

Packing a suitcase and boarding a plane that was going to take me thousands of miles away from my dad and my mum was NOT an option. I knew where I had to be and on a plane to Dublin was not it.

So I changed my plans. A postponement. Nothing a few phone calls and emails couldn’t sort out.

Unbelievably my dad was discharged from the Peter Mac today, a week after we were gathered around his bedside trying to bring him comfort in what we honestly thought were going to be his last hours. The team at the Peter Mac had only one option available and they gambled on it. The gamble paid dividends. But I don’t think they took into account the stubborn nature of my dad. He wasn’t ready to go yet. You don’t fuck with my dad.

He had better keep this fighting spirit going. The new flight is booked for the 31st.

 

 

 

 

 

“What drug can I get you?”

A friend of mine recently made a life-changing decision to stop drinking. It was a decision made after consideration of a number of factors that are important and personal to himself, but one of the reasons was the awareness that he had begun to develop an ‘unhealthy reliance’ on alcohol.

This decision of his came a couple of weeks prior to the annual event known as ‘Dry July’ but the timing has probably been beneficial because he can become accustomed to not drinking and not be berated relentlessly by his friends and associates. It’s Dry July. Lots of people are not drinking.

I’m the fly on the wall watching this friend’s ‘light-bulb’ moments. I am a non-drinker, I have been aware of what he is suddenly experiencing socially my whole life. I’m in the VIP seat witnessing epiphanies. I have somehow become his sounding board and his non-judgemental voice of reason.

Dry July is one month, in Australia, every year where people can say ‘I’m not drinking for a month. Please support my decision and donate to my chosen charity.’ Sounds great. It IS great. But….. OH MY GOD ……….. the whingeing and complaining that accompanies this decision is enough to drive a person to drink!!! EVERYONE has to be made aware of the sacrifices Dry Julyers are making because they are not partaking of an alcoholic beverage for an entire 31 days. The social agony of not enjoying a glass of red with their friends at dinner. *GASP!* Invitations to go out will be politely but loudly rejected because the mere idea of not getting hammered with their friends is unacceptable. And really, who wants to be the sober one when everyone else is getting drunk? Drunk people are so unpleasant to be around when you’re not in the same state of inebriation.

There will be many people attempting Dry July because they are aware that they may have an issue that needs addressing and this public event is a safe and non-judgemental way to make a start, however, there are hundreds of people all around Australia who are not doing Dry July for the numerous health benefits. Oh no! Most of the people attempting Dry July are doing it on a dare, to raise money, because someone thought it would be a good idea for someone else in the office to do it………. Come August 1st most of these people will be making up for lost drinking time. The pubs, clubs and bars around the nation are already ordering up big for the return to drinking.

Alcohol permeates our society. Every event that you attend is fuelled by wine, beer, cider, spirits or cocktails. It doesn’t matter if you are attending the football or a baby’s baptism, if there are adults in attendance so is alcohol.

Why?

Alcohol is a drug. It alters one’s consciousness. Alcohol changes a person’s behaviour. It prevents people connecting in a real and meaningful way. Alcohol is the panacea and the excuse for every ailment or wrong-doing known to man.

Feeling sad……..have a drink.

Feeling happy………. have a drink.

Sun is shining……have a drink.

The weather is miserable…….have a drink.

New baby……..have a drink.

Someone died……….have a drink.

Won a major contract………..have a drink.

Lost your job……….have a drink.

On a date………have a drink.

Relationship ended………..have a drink.

Thanks for your help……..let me buy you a drink.

It’s your birthday………let me buy you a drink.

Punched someone……..had been drinking.

Yelled at the kids……….had been drinking.

Blew hundreds of dollars at the casino…….had been drinking.

Crashed the car into a fence………had been drinking.

Behaved irresponsibly………had been drinking.

If you stop for a moment and think about alcohol as a drug then you start to see your friendly bartender as your drug dealer. He will ply you with the substance you crave for as long as the money holds out. You will be enticed with ‘Happy Hour’ where you can get your hit cheaply and once your ability to think rationally has gone then the cost goes up, but you don’t notice because the drug has dulled your senses. Bartender stopped serving you? Get your mate to buy the drinks.

You need this drug to relax you say. No way you could get out on the dance floor without another couple of relaxants. Impossible to start a conversation without a shot of courage. Talk and flirt with someone you find attractive without a shot or two under your belt?Perish the thought!!

A glass or two of your chosen drug makes you feel good.

OF COURSE IT DOES!!! IT’S A DRUG!!! That’s what drugs are designed to do. Whether your drug is cocaine or a Cosmopolitan it is essentially the same thing. The only difference is the social, governmental and legal acceptability of alcohol.

Apparently I’m strange. I’m a bit of a freak. People don’t know how to behave around me. Bartenders don’t know how to handle my request for a raspberry cordial in flat water with no ice, though they have no problem with the request for an extra dry martini, shaken not stirred, with three olives.  Wineries blatantly ignore my request for a glass of water, even though technically I am the designated driver and they should be treating the person who is sober and responsible for the other members of the group with respect.

And let’s not even start with dating! Where am I supposed to meet someone for a drink if I don’t drink? News for you gentlemen. I do drink. I simply don’t drink alcohol. I don’t have a problem with you having a glass of something, I can drink water, I just have a problem if you drink a few glasses or cans of something.

If you are doing Dry July take the time to notice what is happening around you and to you. Has your sleep quality improved? Are you losing weight? Are your eyes clearer? Are your thoughts clearer? How much money are you saving? Are your acquaintances real friends or fellow drug users? How does it feel to remember what you did on Friday night? What is it like to make love to your partner when your are not ‘altered’ by alcohol? Are you more productive at work? How do you feel being in a room of people who are drinking? Is your interaction with your family and friends more connected?

I hope my friend’s decision to give up alcohol is a permanent one. It is a big choice to make and a choice that is not popular among the majority of the population. He will be met with resistance, anger, disbelief, mistrust, coercion, shock, laughter and humiliation. I have my fingers crossed for him.

 

 

 

Made me ponder.

How incredible and terrifying to hear a 22 year old person say that the thing they were most proud of was the fact that they were still alive.

My heart stopped for a moment because I had, just moments before, watched this young person perform in front of a couple of hundred people so confidently and passionately.

This beautiful, passionate, creative, strong, dynamic and captivating being had almost given up on everything numerous times in their short life.

It breaks my heart to think that there are so many people who, after years of inner torment, decide that not ‘being’ is their only choice. Young or old, the agony of living is more than they can cope with.

I don’t know why, who or how the help needed arrived for this individual, I can only be grateful that it did because there were some wonderfully thought-provoking moments during the performance on Thursday night. These were moments that were made to be expressed by this artist. They were hers and hers alone.

How dare you!

“Hey baby, what you got goin’ tonight?”

And with that, my sense of security flew out the window.

How dare you, you little prick.

You made me question and consider my personal safety in ways that I shouldn’t have to.

I continued to walk towards my destination wondering whether I should have engaged you. Would replying to you’re pathetic comment have provoked you in an unpleasant way? Had not replying to your pathetic comment provoked you? Was I now ‘at risk’ from you and your companion?

I chose not to think about you as I enjoyed dinner with my friends. You were not going to ruin my night, but there you were, front and centre in my mind, as I prepared to walk back to my car. Were you still loitering about with your mate, looking for trouble? Were you now alone waiting for a target?

My keys were firmly in my hand, one key protruding between my fingers as a weapon. I wondered whether I should be talking on my phone with a friend as I walked to my car, but decided against it as I wanted my ears to be on alert for your footsteps. I had already planned the route I was going to take so that I was in as much light as possible.

Fuck you!

I should not have to be on high alert as walk back to my car after a dinner with friends. I should not have to ask friends to walk me back to my car. I should not have to question whether I am going to be safe from assault at any time of the day or night based on the fact that I am a single person of the female gender.

I’M NOT GOING TO STOP LIVING THE LIFE YOU HAVE, WITH THE FREEDOMS YOU HAVE, BASED ON MY GENDER AND THE FACT THAT I AM ALONE!!!

I am NOT going to buy a can of mace. I am NOT going to decline invitations. I am NOT going to change a damned thing!

Why not?

Because I’m not the one who has to change.

I am not the one in the wrong.

It is NOT wrong for a single woman to go out on her own. No matter what time of day or night it is I, and every other single man or woman out there, has the right to freedom and safety.

You unnerved me you little twat, but you’re not going to make me change how I do things. I’m tougher than you think and I’ll tear you to pieces if I have to.

I can tie a tie?

When did I learn how to tie a man’s tie? Was it my mother or my father who showed me many, many, many moons ago.

How is it that I instinctively knew what I was doing?

I have been a single woman for most of my adult life. The requirement for me to tie a neck-tie is, and has been, almost non-existent yet there I stood in front of my adult son tying a proper ‘Simple knot’ around his neck.

There was no hesitation or indecision on the part of my hands. I’m sure that it took me less than fifteen seconds to have it done and securely placed at the opening of his collar.

How is it possible to have muscle memory for a task you have done less than ten times in your life? Add into the equation the fact that I had just walked in the door and I had no prior warning that I was going to be expected to tie a tie which meant therefore no time to hit up Google for an online tutorial.

I’ll simply have to own it. I’m bloody amazing.

The bucket list you didn’t know you had.

I ticked something off my non-existent bucket list yesterday. It was quite the achievement. Something I had not really considered to be a thing I would ever do. Something that I hadn’t even thought was an item to mark off as ‘completed’ in my list of things to say I had done in my life.

However there I stood, in the magnificent waters of  a secluded beach at Torquay, on a truly perfect summers day, without a shred of clothing proudly proclaiming to my equally naked friend that I could tick ‘that’ off my bucket list.

I don’t have a bucket list!

What’s with this bucket list? Do we have Morgan Freeman and Robert De Niro (Oooops!!!! It’s actually Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman) and the American film industry to thank for the requirement of a bucket list? It was a lovely movie gentlemen, but now people find themselves having to think of things they need to achieve before they die and tick them off a list.

Imagine the horror as you take your final breath, knowing that you didn’t do the things on your list. OMG!! Especially if you had that list written down and it was stuck on the fridge door with a Mickey Mouse magnet. Family members would see your list and KNOW that you did nothing with your life. Let’s ignore the fact that you lived and had a life……..but you didn’t complete your list!!!!

How about just living your life to the full and experiencing the opportunities that are presented to you? That’s what I am doing.

You don’t need a list.

I’m sure the starving in Africa don’t have a list. I can’t imagine the farmer in the rice paddy of Vietnam has a list nor the Amish woman in North America or the bloke living under the bridge in Melbourne.

Life is not about lists. Life is about living and yesterday I felt incredibly alive.

I have no idea how many of you have done it, and I am definitely not telling anyone that you should or shouldn’t do it, but I cannot even touch on the emotions I felt as I took the last item of clothing off and bared my imperfect self to the elements.

Yesterday was a sterling summer beach day. Low 20’s, clear skies, gentle breeze and clear blue waters. The stretch of beach that has been the designated nude beach for decades is magnificent. The sands were not crowded and the vibe I sensed was wonderfully calm. Many people had brought their dogs which only added to the sense of normality. The only difference on this beach was that the people swimming, throwing balls for their dogs to chase, walking or laying on their towels on the glorious sunshine was the absence of fabric.

Also absent was the self-consciousness. This was a space where men and women accepted themselves and their perfect imperfections.  Hallelujah!

So I took all my clothes off and walked alone to the water and I laughed and cried at the wonder of it all.

 

2018: The year in review.

December 31, 2018. At midnight tonight we begin a new year on the Gregorian Calendar. Watch as we struggle for weeks to remember what year it is. There will be errors aplenty as the unthinking end their written or typed dates with an eight instead of a nine.

I can hear the cursing now. (I will be one of the cursing)

Humans get all excited at this time of the year. Suddenly people are filled with an almost demonic fervour as they plan their year ahead. Pledges and promises abound. Sales of Nicorette patches increase in preparation for the annual quit-athons. Gyms employ extra staff to cater for the influx of the overweight and obese who have promised themselves a healthier life beginning January 1. Holidays are planned. Budgets are drafted. Relationships are evaluated.

Good intentions are thrown around like confetti at a wedding. But like confetti at a wedding, very few of these good intentions land where they are expected. So many of them end up stuck in a tree, drowning in a pool of water or being caught by the wind to drift off into the ether, never to be seen again.

I stopped making promises and resolutions years ago. Such nonsense only adds extra pressure on an already pressured mind. Not to mention the sense of failure and disappointment when you find yourself unable to live up to your high ambitions. Fuck that.

I now let things happen. And things are happening.

2018 has been another amazing year for me. The amazement began in 2017 and has continued unabated. I have discovered so much about who I am as a person and who are the people who are important to me. I know what I want from the world around me, and more importantly, what I don’t want.

My life is a whirl-pooling mosaic of people and experiences that has opened my eyes to the wonders of living the life I want to live rather than the one that is ‘expected’ of me. Not saying that I’m going to suddenly go all vegan and stop shaving my legs, rather I am going to do the things that make ME happy.

At the end of the day you are only responsible for ensuring your own happiness. You can, and will, only make yourself unhappy trying to make other people happy.

2018 has been a social year, a working year, a new website year, a discovery year, a year when I didn’t give a shit about Xmas. It was also a year that raced by me and where I struggled to find a balance with all the activities I had on.

Not that I am making any promises, but I am going to try to be very careful with how I fill my calendar in 2019. I have to find time for working, friends and family, photography work, photography excursions, socialising and relaxing. (And let’s not forget the BIG holiday planned for later in the year)

Yet another thing I learned over the last twelve months……….. I can’t do it all.

True friends will understand if you have to say “No” sometimes. (Saying no is when you learn who your true friends are.)

This New Year’s Eve is going to be one hell of a lot quieter that the last since my dance-partner in crime is holidaying in Italy with his boyfriend. A BBQ in my clean and tidy pergola, underneath the fairy lights, on my new chairs is just what the season has ordered. Though, truly, I don’t think there will ever be a New Year’s to top last year. Can’t be repeated, can’t be replicated.

I’m not excited or enthused enough to shout it with glee, but I wish myself and my loved ones a very happy 2019.

Stay safe, stay happy, stay smiling.

 

So this is Xmas……….

T’was the night before the night before Xmas and I finally decided that I should make some token of effort for the festive season. It has been one of those years where the days have flashed by at warp-speed and my brain has only shifted into third gear. Therefore, my brain thinks that it is only August but the calendar tells me that tomorrow morning is Xmas Day.

I’m just not feeling it.

I have done the usual Xmas things purely because they are expected of me rather than me wanting to do them. I have baked the shortbread, I have worn the Xmas hat at work, I have attended the Xmas functions and events, I have written the annual Xmas card letter (as yet unposted) and I have wished people Merry Xmas………. but I’m not ‘feeling it’.

It’s not that I am in a depressed state of mind. On the contrary, I couldn’t be in a better head-space. To say that life is good would be an understatement of incredible proportions. Life IS good. I just don’t really care for Xmas this year.

Perhaps being out working and/or socialising and not being home has a lot to do with things. Why spend hours setting up and decorating a tree and the house if you’re not home to see it? #1 son is barely home to see Xmas decorations either and he didn’t offer help to set things up. No..I tell a lie…he did ‘offer’ he just never followed through with his offer.

However, be it an attack of the Xmas guilts, a sense that I was missing something or a feeling that if I decorated I might start to feel somewhat more festive, last night I made an effort and put up a few decorations before watching ‘Love Actually’ while I did the ironing. Not the big tree. I wavered but I didn’t totally surrender to the silliness!!

Tonight I will continue the saga of the ironing basket whilst watching Carols By Candlelight and don’t be surprised if you hear a rumour that I sang along. Who knows? By tomorrow I might be feeling all come over with Xmas cheer.

I doubt it, but Xmas is the time for miracles.

 

Self-portrait

The self-portrait; as distinct from the ‘selfie’.

A sign of narcissism? An inflated ego? A shout to the world “Look at me!”? Or something else?

I was at the Geelong Art Gallery yesterday to have a look at the Archibald Prize contestants and winners and I was amazed at the number of self-portraits. Initially, I thought nothing of it, but as I prepared an album to share on Facebook a thought came to me and I feel the need to flesh this thought out a bit more.

The self-portrait. It takes a lot of courage to see yourself honestly and convey your true self.

As a model/sitter for a painter or photographer you can only hope that the artist does you justice and conveys back to you an image that you find pleasing. But what happens when you are your own model?

All of a sudden you are required to look at who you are. To see the reflection of the person you show to the rest of the world. You have to look beyond the exterior and see into your eyes. What do they say? Do they tell the story of a content and happy individual? Are years of doubt and depression indelibly etched into the pigment of your iris? Are the eyes looking back at you from the mirror filled with anger or love or compassion or hate?

Has your skin really aged that way? When did you start to develop those lines and pigmentation that you so despised in your mother and father? Surely you were going to look after yourself better than them. ‘Slip, Slop, Slap’ and all the potions and cremes that the advertising industry can guilt you into buying so that you will retain your youthful glow.

Where did that bump come from? That isn’t the body you thought you had. The body you imagine is taller. The body you dream in has grace and elegance. The body you fantasise you have looks incredible naked. Who is this?! Why is there not a thigh-gap? Where is that six-pack abdomen? My goodness….are they man-boobs? Have those toes always looked like claws?

Before you can paint or photograph yourself you have to accept yourself.

Is there anything more confronting than that?

 

 

 

 

Autumn

Even though the last week has seen me coughing and spluttering and with barely any voice thanks to some delightful cold germs that I picked up from some bloody snotty-nosed child, I still made my way out to “Montsalvat” in Eltham to see the opening of the Dapper Rabbit exhibition by my photography friend Julie Powell.

I’ve never travelled out to this wonderful place before, but I expect that this will not be my only visit. Quite the photographer’s and artists heaven. Art and sculpture everywhere. Plus the pretty gardens.

And the weather yesterday was simply spectacular. In the last few days of autumn, when you would be expecting the days to be getting colder, we were treated to glorious sunshine and blue skies.

All I wanted to do was capture that glory.

I think I managed to. 🙂