Blog Guilt vs Freedom from the Internet

I've got so many musings I want to post on this blog..one of course is the fabulous subject of "Winning" (you know the one, you break up with someone and you're never really free because at the end of the day you want to 'Win').  So I suffer from Blog Guilt.  Yes, although I WANT to write on the blog, I find it hard to get the chance (which I will explain why in the next paragraph) so I suffer from the guilt for not contributing.

On the other hand, I don't have internet at home...hard to grasp the concept I know.  The only time I access the internet is in my lunch breaks at work (two days a week) - if I have time.  Now this is choice.  Last birthday hubby said he wanted to get me a laptop and internet for my birthday.  I thought about it and it really hit me how much I love the freedom of NOT having the internet ie. feeling like I 'should' check Facebook namely (I also really wanted a pair of not necessary leather boots so opted for that).  I love that I get in contact with Friends, old and new, if I need to via Facebook and other mediums.  However, I am also enjoying the old school of not having the internet at my fingers and information overload.  Ignorance really is bliss!

So I suffer from blog guilt due to restrictions on when I can write something, but at the same time love the freedom of not having the internet close at hand....its a strange balance!

Childhood memories

This anecdote to me symbolises the laughter between friends.  Then, now and always!  It is a true story.

A puddle.  Small and shallow but unmissable.  In the middle of the trampoline. 

The trampoline had been a great source of entertainment since my sister and I had received it as a Christmans present.  Large black rectangle, surrounded by springs that either gave you an electric shock or caught the hairs on your legs if you dared get on or off.  Certainly no safety padding.  The skill was getting on and off without slipping between the springs and bars and 'knackering' yourself.
Hours were spent alone or in pairs (sometimes braving groups of three) jumping, doing tricks, double-jumping (a cruel but funny tactic against your fellow jumper).  Unintentional exercise.  My cousin Naomi and I would spend endless hours on the trampoline.  Jumping till our legs were jelly then sitting in the middle, quietly bobbing up and down while we chatted.  And laughed.  Telling jokes and stories that would set us off into uncontrollable fits till we were breathless.  Then we'd stop, look at each other and start all over again.
One of these particular days, as the trampoline was growing old with visible fading and stretching in the middle, we were once again caught in the grips of laughter when Naomi suddenly stopped.  Her face went from a wide grin to one of shock and slight panic. 
"Uh-oh."
"What?" I asked, coming to a slow chuckle.
"Um..." 
She didn't have to say anything.  The reason for her shock and panic became obvious as she slowly stood up (clumsily - it's hard to stand up gracefully on a trampline).  Underneath her was a puddle.  Shallow but unmissable.  A slightly yellow tinge starting to spread across the surface.  Towards me.
"Ewww...."  a combination of repulsion and laughter.  "You peed on the trampoline!"
We scrambled off that trampoline like it was a sinking ship.  No thoughts or cares of electrice shocks or knackering.  Only when we were safe on dry land were we free to let our emotions free - and the laughter flooded out. 
"Careful, we don't wnat a second puddle!"
Tne minutes later the puddle was washed away and Naomi was wearing a new and dry pair of my underwear.  No one would ever be the wiser.

Until now :)

Freckle fraud

Reporting from Turtle Bay Resort, North Shore, Oahu, Hawaii.

I do believe that I have not seen one other freckly person since I've been in Hawaii.  Did I somehow make it through some secret screening process that weeds out the 'unacceptable' skin from the others before you enter?  Did my makeup work well enough to fool them into believing I have smooth, clear skin with no freckles?  I do believe that I am a bit of a fraud here.  There are some ridiculous skin colours here.  When I say tanned skin I am talking about a whole different type of tan than the golden, healthy-glow-type of tan that is synonymous with Australia.  This is a deep, I've-spent-hours-in-the-sun, leather-looking, glistening with oil and in twenty-years-I'll-regret-this-and-look-like-an-old-handbag kind of tan.  And the worst thing is - they look fantastic!  No matter what size they are they look toned without any cellulite in sight.  They look like they belong on the beach.  They look like the sun has dropped on them softly a silky, caramel coating.  Then there's me.  For whom the sun has seen my pale canvas and just thrown the caramel at me, flicking speckles of caramel over me randomly.  Flick, flick.  Missed a spot there.  Don't forget the chest and hands.  Some larger, mole-like splotches will break it up a bit. 
As an aside, I am also in the minority by wearing hats.  They seem to be an optional extra for beach-goers here.  Especially for children.  I haven't gone further than five metres from the hotel room without some sort of hat (it also helps to hide the top-frizz of the beach hair).  On the beach this afternoon there were approximately 60 people.  I counted maybe four or five people wearing a hat.  And that is not an exaggeration.  It seems the sun-smart message has not reached these people (most who are tourists from mainland US).
Aloha!

Helpful?

I realised today that men seem to feel the need to offer solutions or solve our problems - even when we're not asking them to! 
Today I was telling a friend (and PE teacher) how sore I was after doing a Body Pump (weights) class yesterday for the first time in months.  Just sharing the pain.  However he felt the need to;
1.  Tell me why I was sore (which I had sort of guessed!).
2.  That it isn't an effective source of exercise when done once-off and is why those classes are no good (though I did point out that you have to start sometime - there is always going to be that first class).
3.  Explain to me the 'right' way to do weight training. 
I feel a bit nasty writing that because he certainly wasn't doing it a condescending way - he actually was trying to 'help' me.  But all I wanted was a little sympathy :)

Technology Peer-Pressure

Is there such thing as technology peer-pressure?  Or, more specifically, iPhone peer pressure?  I believe so.  And I believe I have succumbed to the pressure.  I had found myself at lunchtime discussions with colleagues feeling ostracised and as if somehow I was 'out-of-the-loop' with technology (is this maybe how my Mum feels all the time?  Although she has just learnt how to text...but that's another story!).  Discussing their apps, pulling their phones out to show photos, check emails, google the answer to a discussion we were having.  And they all had one.  Except me.  I could only sit there and politely nod and act as though I knew what they were talking about.  But half the time I didn't.  They were speaking another language that I could only slightly decipher.  But certainly couldn't speak myself.  I had always been fascinated with the smartphone and impressed (if not a little sceptical) of the things it can do.  However I had never felt the need to have one.  I believed I could live without it.  And then I realised that maybe I did need it.  Maybe my life wasn't complete without one.  Or at least, maybe my life could improve with one,  So I succumbed.  I bowed to the peer-pressure.  I got an iPhone.  And for the first day I had it I was the 'popular' kid at lunchtime - pulling my phone out to show them, others crowding around to show me which apps to get etc.  
I do love it (have had it for three days now) and am marvelled by the technology (my favourite is an app in which I scan the barcodes of the books I own and it catalogues them for me) but I am finding that I am spending hours searching for apps, playing games, fiddling with settings.  And I'm not sure quite yet how it has improved my life.  Maybe it has added some enjoyment (like all new toys) and apps like 'mapmyrun' and 'calorie counter' will add something to my exercising but it's not like I wouldn't still be able to do those things without the iPhone. 
I guess I shouldn't question it's need in my life but just enjoy it.  And feel satisfied that now I can contribute to lunchtime conversations - I am no longer left out!

Facebook ‘Friends”

They really should have another name for it, or at least divide the people into categories.

When I found out I was pregnant, my husband and I saw a friend of his in the supermarket.  His wife was heavily pregnant at the time, so heavily pregnant in fact, that she was a week overdue and he had commented that she had gone for long walks to try and bring the baby on.  She then came around the corner of the aisle.  I said 'Hello' and shared with her our exciting news, expecting her to be excited too.  I commented to her that hopefully their baby will come soon.  She replied with ‘I don’t want to talk about it quite frankly’ and with that walked off, leaving her husband to try and explain her rudeness.

I decided from then on to not give her any of my time.  Now this may seem harsh but I didn’t know her that well and the times I had met her she wasn’t overly friendly anyway.  It was an easy decision for me, especially as being excited as I was about such a life changing experience for us, it was quite deflating. 

So the next few times I saw her I didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge – nothing.  I didn’t think anymore about it.

Then recently, almost a year and half later, I get a friend request on facebook from her.  What the?!

1. I’m not her friend
2. Why would she even want to be a facebook friend after the way I treated her?

Of course I added her anyway, as you do.

Why is it when I’m happy I can’t think deeply?

Go back 5 years ago and I was sad - very sad.  The things I thought about and played around with in my mind were scarily deep.  I also felt deeply.  I really hurt.  I ached.  Deep down right to the core agony.  For the first time I really felt what sadness was.  I wanted a pill to make it all better and had to keep reminding myself that this is what sadness feels like.  It hurts.  I was meant to feel this way after what had happened.  So I allowed myself to feel it all, and with that came a lot of deep thinking, self awareness and analysing. 

Finally, I got over what happened and I am now genuinely happy and content.

All I can think about is funny and quirky things.  I always look on the brighter side of life.  Everything is light hearted and easy.  Not too much analysing required.  Life is just peachy.  I just live and don’t usually make the most of every moment.  The days go by and I’m just living a happy life. 

Do we need to feel sadness and hurt to think deeply? Why, when we are hurting, do we feel the need to write our thoughts down but when we are happy we don't?  Is that why there is the old cliché of the tortured writer or poet?  Are we subconsciously trying to capture ourselves at our deepest so we can remind ourselves when we are content that we can be a deeper being? Do we need to be hurt, in angst, in the depths of despair, to bring out deep thought?

But then I may also be contradicting myself, as is this thought about not being deep at the moment, actually, deep?

Isn't that a question?

Why do people ask 'Can I ask a question?'
Firstly, they didn't ask permission to ask that question - they went ahead and just asked it.
Secondly, by the time they wasted my time asking that pointless question, they could have just asked the question they really want the answer to.
Thirdly, what if I just said 'No'?

Do you lose respect for me because I love 'Gossip Girl?'

It's a little embarrassing for me to admit but I think it is time I came out and admitted it - owned up to my secret shame.  I love watching 'Gossip Girl.'  My Tuesday night special.  In the lead up to watching it I tell myself that I don't need to watch it.  I can't even really remember why I love it.  I can convince myself that it is not my type of show.  But then it starts.  And immediately I am drawn in.  I am hooked onto every unrealistic, far-fetched and often ludicrous story lines as though it was happening in my world.  Even though the 'upper-east New York socialite' lives of the characters couldn't be any further from my own reality.  I'm not sure there is even a character I really like (except Dan Humphrey - the oh-so-stereotypical brooding, smart, hot writer).  But I think we all need that 'escape' show.  The one that we watch half wishing we had lives like that - but the other half breathes a sigh of relief that we don't have to deal with that level of drama weekly (I hope!).  But I would love to be able to 'pull-off' the fashions (and have the money to do so!).  And I would love the seemingly lack of awareness of consequences that, while causing much short-term heartache, their resilience allows them to 'bounce' back so quickly (usually into the next drama).  I'm not sure I'd have the resilience and perseverance to handle it all!  Maybe they are a good role model for us - in dealing with, and overcoming, conflict!  See, I really have just talked (written?) myself into a real, legitimate and shameless reason for watching 'Gossip Girl.'  Do you have a 'secret shame' show that you are ready to 'out' yourself with?  Be brave.
Well, now I'm off, it's Tuesday night and I have to escape into my show! 

Expectations

So over the last week I have found myself regularly frustrated with other people (I'm talking mainly work-related).  And I couldn't work out why.  But everyday there seemed to be something new that caused me to either emotionally implode - or thankfully - find a friend to have a good vent to.  In assessment of the reasons for my lack of patience and understanding I discovered a common cause.  Me.  More specifically, my expectations.  My frustrations were formed from others not meeting my expectations.  In all sorts of ways.  But always the same - not meeting what I consider the 'acceptable.'  Which has led me to a bit of a self exploration.  Is it me who needs to change?  Do I need to adjust my expectations?  Will this alleviate my frustrations? 
But then I think that having expectations is a good thing.  That I shouldn't accept less.  That being frustrated is a reasonable reaction when others don't meet that expectation. 
But then I have to remember that only I am aware of these expectations.  That it is me who controls what I expect.  That I control how I react.  And that it is my challenge to be able to deal with this frustration in a positive way - by finding a way to be assertive (and constructive) in making others aware of my feelings, or to simply 'suck it up!'
I also have to remember that I am probably (!) not meeting the expectations of others and providing them with the same sort of frustrations!  I guess it's 'expectations karma!'  Actually, on that note, I hope this musing lives up to your expectations :)

Call me crazy...

If a person who is clearly crazy, is talking to you about something and does the crazy sign (fingers twirling around the side of head, tongue poking out), does that then cancel the crazy and make them sane?

My own eyes

I need a holiday from me

A break from my mind

To lose connection with my world

All of my world

Disappear into another existence

separate the me I am now

with the me I want to be

Maybe then I can get some perspective

Realise my priorities

Know what I really want

Find out what I miss

Find out what I can live without

Get to know me without seeing

myself through the eyes of others

Finally see me through my own eyes.

What is compromise?

What is it to compromise?  We are told it is the cornerstone of successful relationships - romantic, friendship, with colleagues.  To find a common ground, meet each other half way, give a little to get a little, concede something to get something, sacrifice to make it work.  It requires considering the needs and wants of others.  It requires working with another to come to an agreement.  It all seems logical and reasonable.  It sounds wise.  It means everyone will be happy.  Everyone gets something.  Everyone is considerate and understanding.  But is it really this ideal?  Should we always look to compromise?  Is there a time when we can, and should, reject the compromise and want it all for ourselves?  Maybe compromise isn't all it's supposed to be - the way to resolve conflict and 'make everyone happy.'  Maybe sometimes it's better to get it all.  I am avoiding labelling it 'selfish' as I don't believe that wanting it all, or rejecting compromise, is necessarily a  selfish act (and it is such a term women unfortunately label themselves when they think about themselves first). 
I believe that often there are people who are always the one to compromise.  This may seem unlikely, given the definition requires 'meeting in the middle', but there are people who seem to do the 'meeting' more often than the other.  These people forgo something important to them in order to 'make it work.'  Often this is not an issue.  We are quite often willing to do this as making it work is more important than getting everything we want.  However, in my musings on compromise I am drawn to question the compromise in which someone feels they have to forgo they strongly want or believe in just to 'make it work.'  Those who often sacrifice a value or belief in order to avoid a conflict or please someone else.  This is when compromise becomes a case of losing a part of yourself rather than a positive solution.  And while in the short term the compromise may seem the right decision, in the long wrong you are simply compromising who you are and what you really want.  Surely compromise is only successful if both parties are involved - that both are giving up something. 
This doesn't mean, of course, that we should not consider a compromise or that we should always strive only for what we want without any consideration of the other.  Often it is an excellent solution to a conflict.  It is a way to demonstrate an understanding of another and willingness to work with them. 
Maybe if we have to call it a 'compromise' we are already conceding that we are 'giving up' something that matters - and that giving it up actually affects us.  Otherwise we would call it...well, nothing...because it would have made the decision based on wanting the so-called 'compromise.'  We would make the decision simply because it is actually what we want.  Not about what we concede. 
However, I am willing to concede that some may not agree with my musings...I am willing to compromise on my ideas!  Let's meet in the middle...any thoughts?

The best part about being an adult

What’s the best part of being an adult?

I remember looking at my friends parents when I was a teenager and thinking that I couldn’t wait until I was an adult as you don’t have to worry about the problems that I was having at the time. 

Adults don’t have to worry about why their best friend isn’t talking to them.  They can buy clothes whenever they want, not when their mum can only afford it.  They can have that chocolate when they go shopping when they want to. They can have the latest brand name clothes and be in with the cool crowd.  They don’t have to worry about if their butt looks big in jeans because it’s ok to have a big butt when you’re older.  They don’t have to rely on anyone else to drive them somewhere, to name a few.

Now that I’m an adult, it’s funny to look back at those things that I wished for.

Adults still have to worry about why their best friend isn’t talking to them..sometimes it happens..and even worse, sometimes its family.  They can’t buy clothes whenever they want as they usually need to cloth everyone else first.  They can’t have chocolate when they go shopping whenever they want to because they calorie count now.  They can have the latest brand name clothes if they want, but they spend the earth and no one really notices anyway as cool crowds don’t seem to exist at this age and what you wear doesn’t really matter.  They do have to worry about if their butt looks big in jeans because it’s still not ok to have a big butt at any age according to the media.  They have to rely on themselves to drive themselves everywhere, pay for petrol and never get to enjoy being a passenger.

But I’m glad I’m an adult now and I wouldn’t trade it for being a kid again.

Because now I realise what the best thing about being an adult is:

I can make a cake mix and eat the whole damn lot if I want to.

THIS is the best part about being an adult.

The Ex-Nail Biter

Biting nails.  I loved biting my nails.  I couldn’t understand why anybody would NOT want to indulge in such a self satisfying act. 

The thrill of getting that last..little..bit that was just annoying me so much.  The joy of chewing away whilst lost in my favourite TV show.

Although I was always disappointed with the look of my hands once I got all dressed up for a party or a nice outing…somehow my hands seemed to look feral all of a sudden with bits of skin hanging off here, little bits of blood there, but all would be forgiven once the nails grew a little and I started to chew again.

Then I got engaged.  My beautiful ring.  It couldn’t possibly be seen with nails and skin that were chewed down.  So I started to grow my nails.  I never knew my nails could be so beautiful, strong.  My skin was clear and perfect….and I didn’t get sick.

What?! Every year I would get the flu without fail.  Regardless if I had the flu shot or not, I would get the flu.  I accepted it as part of my fate.  However, I realised since I stopped biting my nails, not the flu, not a cold, NOTHING.

Which made me think of what I was touching with my fingers which I would then happily put in my mouth.  Money (gross!), petrol pumps (disgusting!). keyboards (after someone had sneezed on their hands!), door handles! The list goes on.

Who’s filthy germs were I putting in my own mouth? Everyone’s it seems.

So hence, my nails are long, my skin around the nails is clear.  And I no longer get sick

Pressure - supermum, superbody.

So this is the picture that has caused many media commentators (and social gossips) to gush over how fabulous Miranda Kerr looks after "just giving birth."  How fabulous she is, what a supermum as well as supermodel she is, coming out in public looking so thin and happy.  Please, give us a break.  Yes, she looks gorgeous - she always has.  Her body looks great - it always has.  But to praise her as being something to aspire to as a 'new mum' isn't helpful - it just puts pressure on the reality - that women's bodies cannot miraculously return to their formal glory so quickly.  I'm not blaming Miranda Kerr for this.  She is entitled to look fabulous and feel good about herself.  It's the media that paint her as something extraordinary for being able to do so.  But look carefully at this photo and what she is wearing.  She has cleverly hidden the parts of the body that maybe even she could be a little self-conscious about after giving birth (the stomach, hips and thighs) with the wide skirt and tulle.  She as accentuated her upper-body which is amazing - even making the most of having larger breasts as a new mum!  What if she had worn a skin-tight dress that showed off maybe a little bit of a jelly-belly or even wider hips?  Would the media be praising her for embracing this body?  No.  They may not express negative comments but they certainly wouldn't be focusing on it in a positive way either.  

With all the education and awareness of body image in women I seem to get the impression that, while occasionally there is focus on representing 'normal' women in fashion, the pressure to be thin has actually only increased.  And has now entered the world of child-bearing - a time when traditionally it was expected to develop a bit of extra 'padding' - even seen as 'healthy.'  Now it's about how quickly can you get back to your 'before baby' size - or even more so - how to be smaller than before bubs.  The media constantly feed us images of celebrity mothers who have even 'better bodies' than before they gave birth.  What extraordinary women these are.  Showing us all that having a baby doesn't mean we have to change at all.  All dressed up as 'motivational' and 'inspirational' rather than the truth - pressure and yet another time we have to worry about our body image. 

However I do not doubt that these celebrity mums haven't worked to regain these bodies.  And I also understand that they are probably under more pressure than anyone else to return to a size 0.  But I also understand that it is a lot easier for them when they have the money, time and means to do so.  If we all had at our disposal and whim a nanny, nutritionist and personal trainer we would all 'bounce' back better than before.  You will also find that what feels like a quick transformation (wasn't she only pregnant two weeks ago?) is actually usually over a 6 - 12 month period.  We just haven't seen them in the media during that time, distracted by other celebrities to occupy magazine pages. 

This isn't about berating mothers who really want to, and work hard to, lose weight or regain fitness after having a baby.  Far from it.  It's about the pressure that is felt and how somehow observing 'post-baby' bodies has become part of our lives.  I see it all around me with my friends. Hear them say they can't lose the weight, or that they dislike their 'jelly-belly'.  And we all comment on how 'great' such-and-such looks since having the baby.  I saw photos of my best friend (living in another state) 8 months after the birth of her gorgeous girl and the first comment I made was 'gee she her body looks great.'  Even though she has always had a great body.  Sadly, my friend admitted that she felt the want and need for people to say to her 'you don't even look like you've had a baby!'  She didn't lose the kilos just to get back to a healthy non-pregnant weight; she lost the weight to get those comments, admitting that it is the wrong motivation.  She feels sad that she has given into this pressure. 

Rarely have I seen someone who was a thin person suddenly become the side of a truck or a large person really skinny.  I have found usually they are the same, maybe just a few kilos heavier or with a little jelly belly.  But change in the body is inevitable.  I watched a show in which they explained that it is biologically impossible to return to the same body after birth because the body naturally changes during pregnancy (particularly chest and pelvis) - not that you can' t lose weight but just that it will never be the exact same body.  Just a newer (and improved) version! 

When it comes to the post-baby body, it seems there is pressure from the media, from others and quite commonly, from ourselves.  Pressure to get back to our 'former selves.'  What is forgotten that in having a baby there is not returning to a 'former self.'   Just developing a new self.