yearbook photos

These are some photos of me from the last.. ohhh.. fifty years..
[the eighties me.. I actually had a do kind of sort of like that.. kind of.. a bit more punky and new romantic.. but, yep, kind of like that]

a true story for all the naysayers..

I want to tell you a story.

A true story.

I used to work with a woman who..
[aside] co-incidentally – but truly not what I started telling this story for – was quite clasically rubenesque, she had an arse like a big round shelf.. and boobs you could set a couple of coasters and martini glasses upon.. she had a beautiful vibrant smile, she had gorgeous straight brown shiny hair with blondey bits in it.. and she was also dislexic [ironic that I can never spell that word].. She would use the word ‘interpretate’ on an almost daily basis.. Her name is Mimi.

Anyway.

Mimi’s sister committed suicide.. and in the middle of an amazing downward slide, Mimi decided one day that she would say YES to all that came her way. She needed to claw out of the pit of ‘I can’t’ that she had found herself in since her little sister died.. So.. she started.. very consciously.. to say YES.. A month of YES she decided. It would be the month of YES.

From that moment.. things started to be drawn to her.. people.. opportunities..
She did some weird and whacky things.. [I can't remember them all - and I am not going to make them up]..
She was also asked to DJ at a cool cool Club in Melbourne. She had never ever ever ever done anything like that – except at a party once when the guy who was meant to DJ set up all his equipment and then disappeared for the rest of the night – so she took over and just changed tracks.. Someone who went to that party rang her one day during the Month of Yes and said “Mimi, would you be interested in doing a 9-12 shift at The Spin Cycle, DJing on Saturday night?”.. And.. she remembered.. she couldn’t say no.. so.. she said.. YES.

She ended up doing that shift and others for about a year or so..
She met a long term lover there..

Her life changed trajectory just because of that little word.. just from saying YES. From believing that within her she had the power to be something different..

We all need to stop seeing life as a series of opportunities we don’t have permission to participate in..

jumping..

Don’t jump to conclusions.. But..
My jaw hurts like a bastard today.

I dreamt I was a bridesmaid in a fuschia dress – I can’t remember who was getting married.
Pre-wedding I was running up and down narrow stairs in this huge dress making sure everything was going smoothly.

And somehow.. I have woken up with lock-jaw.

the answer..

I have figured it out. The answer to life and happiness.. No shit. I have figured it OUT, man.

The answer is..
Knowing that people like you. Knowing that you are appreciated and liked and cared for, just for being the person you are.

Now. To be liked like this, you must be likeable. And to be likeable you need to genuinely appreciate and care for people.. who will then [or maybe not - but at least you have cast it out there] like you in return.
The cycle continues.

I realised this week – when I had my crash and burn on Tuesday, that I didn’t feel liked, and I didn’t want to like anybody because I was feeling unliked.. [cycle.. cycle]
My world was dying around me [dramatic - but at the time it was true].

Today I had a cuppa with an old friend [literally and figuratively, old].
She just rang me to say thanks for the catch up.. and that she had forgotten to ask me if I would like to come out and visit her at home sometime. It was a little thing.. but my heart glowed for having her say it. I realised then the secret.

I reckon right now I could go into a changeroom with a three way mirror and walk out still ten foot tall and bullet-proof.

The end.

nan’s shame..

I feel like I need to apologise to my grandmother right now. She died a couple of years ago, so I imagine she is spiriting around me now reading this over my shoulder.

Sorry Nan.

Sorry for not thinking my outfit through this morning.. I was just so taken with the shade of my new French knickers [well.. Chinese knickers if the truth be told] to think about the implications of wearing the relatively high hanging panties with the relatively low slung slacks.
I am a walking atrocity. I look like the hot-pants girls you were so outraged by. Who would wear bright red knickers anyway? Only a hot-pants, hey Nan?

Sorry Nan.

Actually.. I think I did grow up to be the hot-pants girl you always threatened I would.

one..

Sparsely did this.. and I shall too.. in my tea break, before my next client mosies in..

What were you doing one week ago?
I was desperately waiting for the next installment of a quite beautiful film script. Desperately waiting? I think I was pleading on hands and knees.. [whilst typing all sorts of impatient 'give it to me now!' demands]

What were you doing one month ago?
[checks diary]
I was up to my armpits in shadow puppets.

What were you doing one year ago?
I was sick apparently.
I just re-read last July’s posts.. quite funny really.
http://kimba.wordpress.com/2008/07/

What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was calling bingo and driving a bus for a pack of old nannas in Paddington, Sydney. I was going to the theatre/opera/symphony 3 – 5 times a week. The nights I wasn’t out seeing shows I was working at The Footbridge Theatre [part of Sydney Uni]. I was also studying to teach English as a second language at UTS. I was massaging folks in my loungeroom for a bit of extra extra pocket money.
I had hardly used a computer [didn't even have an email address].. and I was living in a two bedroom house in Leichhardt with my mate Muppet.
I was a little bit busy.

even keel kimba..

A week ago, something quite hysterical happened to me. [hysterical as in highly emotionally charged rather than hysterical hilariously pants wettingly funny].

I think my brain went a little bit happily haywire.. and yesterday when I crashed.. I crashed pretty bloody severely. Nothing went right – my ears felt like they were stuffed with felt – and the world moved in a weirdly muted way. I was a touch paranoid [did I say 'a touch?'].. and I was a bit worried that I was going to lose my shit and crash the car into a truck [or a tumbleweed] on the way home..

In an effort to cheer myself I bought an FM charging thing for my ipod for the car. It didn’t work. And.. when I finally conceded to read the instructions I realised that it wasn’t a charging thing at all. That made me a bit cranky. It cost $80!

So today.

The chick I was paranoid about yesterday – is back to the sweet little lady I know her as being.. She said she didn’t speak in the meeting yesterday because she thought everyone at the table thought she was a ninny.. [meanwhile I was thinking that it was just ME she wasn't speaking to]. We are now planning next year’s projects together.

I took back the non charging ipod fm car thing today with all components and a ripped box in my disappointed little hands. The dude that served me pulled the thing off the shelf that I needed. Holy Moly.. I needed to pay another $50 to get the chargerer thing.. $139 on the box.
I sigh. I need the bloody thing. I’ll pay the extra.
At the register he asks me for $10.. The thing is on sale for $90. Yippee.
I immediately plug it in. It sounds fantastic.. and my ipod is fully charged within 10 minutes.. I CAN’T believe this little thing’s brilliance.

I am wearing my new bra.. and I now have tits that sit frontwise rather than hang somewhere near my arm-pits! Never underestimate the beauty of a new bra.. never.

I am back.. and it’s lovely.

being green..

I am not happy as I type this. Had an awful meeting this morning that made me feel paranoid and nasty in the pit of my bits.

Then.

I went to a department store in town to meander through the racks.. try one last time to find the red bra I have been dreaming about.. and there it was!! Virtually *gleaming* on the rack!! Matching knicks and all!!

[Momentary spirit lift.. I have been looking for this bra for a year!!]

So then.. I went to try it on.. just to be sure [to be sure]..

Change-rooms. Change-room mirrors. [shakes head].
I think you all know where this is going..
I should have remembered that when you are feeling crap about yourself – it is the rule and recommendation to not enter a change-room with 3 mirrors.. NOT..

I bought the bra [in black and red and with the matching lady jocks as well].. I had to repeat myself twice when the girl asked if it was going to be ‘cash or credit’.. my voice was tiny.. and I slunk out of that shop with my head held in shame.. Awful.

To quote a recent friend.. ‘I am broken’..
I just want to go and sit under a rock today and wait for tomorrow to build me up.
It’s not cool, and it is not easy right now.

Sorry all for the rollercoaster ride.

wee little tiny incy wincy bit of a meltdown..

I have been in the country for four months. This last weekend was the most barren and bleak of the lot. [replete with the dog participating in MORE shit-bathing.. and me getting soooooooo angry... SOOOO angry.. I stuffed him in the back of the hatchback and each time he leapt from the hatch to the back seat I ROARED at him and stopped the car.. and stuffed him in the hatch again. I hate to say.. he was terrified].

This morning my old old old boss rang. The lovely bloke who is more father figure than authority figure..
He left the company almost a year before I did in March.

He called.

I grabbed the phone.

“Is this the Oceans Eleven call?” I desperately gasp..

“Oceans Eleven?”

“Ya, the call where you tell me you are getting the old mob back together for one last project?”

He laughs.

Unfortunately it is not that kind of call.

I write unfortunately.. and for a moment this morning, I actually meant it. For a moment this morning I was clawing desperate for a return to the city. The first time in four months.

I plodded, heavy footed into work.. thinking that I had reached the end.
And you know what? I had a cracker of a day today. I actually.. for the first time ever in any job.. punched the freaking sky. When my job is good, it is very very good.

I just need to get out more, after hours..

wall writing..