Feast or a famine.

Everything seems to be happening at once in my usually stale life! It is enough to make any girls head spin!

After what seemed like months and months of ‘it’s ages away!’ all of a sudden October is here! Which means in two weeks I leave the family nest to live in Sale for four weeks, AND I find out if any hospital is willing to employ me next year. Major EEPS!

I am ridiculously excited about Sale. I have travelled before, but have never had to worry about my next meal or even where I am going to sleep at night. While I do have accommodation sorted for Sale, I do not know how to cook to save myself, so this is going to be a rapid and steep learning curve for missy moo here! I am quite determined to cook my own dinner every night, no takeaway, no microwave meals. I am 23 years old, it is time I learn to fend for myself. Obviously I will have to get to know a washing machine as well. I have used plenty of laundromats so hopefully this one shouldn’t be tooooo bad! It is all good preparation for next year, when I intend to permanently move out.

In the meantime though, now that October has hit, I feel like I have a million things I need to do in the next two weeks, and a million things distracting me from doing any of them! I seem to spend my days sitting around doing nothing but play a very stupid but very addictive game on my iPhone, then talking to people on Facebook way past my bedtime, and therefore getting up late and repeating the cycle! Argh! I have also had a recent social life explosion, and seem to be going out sooo much (to other people’s standards it is probably pretty average!). At least I am dragging myself of to the gym, so that is something, although todays effort was a bit lacklustre due to severe sciatic evilness.

I still have to finish my last assignment, organise all the stuff I need to take with me, not to mention complete a never-ending to do list of stuff, including sending off my application for registration as a nurse. MAJOR ARGHHHHHH!

I suppose I should stop complaining about it and just get on with it, and also remember, that it is not going to get any easier next year when I add full-time work to my schedule! Woo!

Over and out, hombres!

xx

Pavlova and PMS.

So today was my birthday.

Pretty uneventful as far as birthdays go. A friend was going away this weekend, so I went out with my friends last weekend, for drinks and bowling. It was fun, but I so hate the focus of an event being on me.

Today I went to Maribyrnong Maker’s Market with Mum. We have always wanted to go, and it is only on three Sundays a year, so off we trotted. Nice stuff, but so, I dunno, Yarraville yuppy parents. The clothes were not my style, and the jewellery, while nice, was expensive and kind of boring. The only stuff that caught my eye were homemade soaps that smelt so good I could have eaten them, and old-fashioned toys. All in all, slightly disappointing.

Moving on to lunchtime, and my Great Aunt Zoe came over. She is about 86 years old, very crazy, and puts every birthday person on edge. She is the bearer of gifts, more commonly known as the infamous ‘squishy packages’. She ALWAYS buys you clothes, that are pretty much exclusively ugly, at least four sizes two big, and in us girls case, from Millers. She delivered, right on cue. A boooootiful baby shit brown puffer jacket in a size 40 billion. Thank god she gave me the receipt. I know I sound ungrateful, but as my Nanna said when I told her about it on the phone, Great Aunt Zoe has been giving squishy packages since my Uncle Matt was born 57 years ago, and they have never been any good. I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. She did bring a gigantic store bought pavlova smothered with cream and strawberries, and while it was nowhere in the league of my favorite aunt, Aunty Val’s homemade pavlova with coffee cream and peppermint crisp, it was sufficiently sweet and delicious to force me to scoff down two huge slices. It’s my birthday, alright! I am allowed to be a pig!

So now I am just sitting around writing an assignment. What a way to spend your birthday!

Oh and I would like to send out some special thankyou’s to my old friends, Mother Nature and Father Time. Thankyou Mother Nature for waking me up at 7am with every woman’s favourite time of the month. I just love PMSing like a crazy bitch all day on my birthday. And thankyou Father Time for making that lunch the longest feat of endurance known to mankind. Greatly appreciative of both of your efforts, totally top-notch.

So thank god that is all over for another year. Except Christmas is in the middle. Don’t even get me started…

xx

Decisions.

I was snooping around on The Daily Post contemplating whether or not to participate in post of the day/week, when yesterdays topic caught my eye:

‘How do you decide how to decide?’

 

Unggggg

 

I think this is a ridiculously valid question for today’s society, given the high levels of choice we are presented with on a day-to-day basis. We live in a highly consumeristic society. You have to choose what fillings go in your sandwich; which colour out of about 100 you want that pair of jeans in, after you have decided what cut you prefer; you can choose to change doctors/dentists/degrees/homes/cars/cities in a blink of an eye. Everything is readily available, and we thrive on the joy of instant gratification. But has this actually helped or hindered our decision-making process?

Sarah Wilson wrote this interesting little piece for the Sunday Life supplement magazine that comes with the Sunday Age in Melbourne, and also posted it on her blog. It goes into a little bit of detail about how as a society we are suffering decision fatigue, and are unnecessarily burdening our children with decisions they are not really capable of understanding. I personally don’t remember being asked as a child what I wanted for lunch at school, I just ate whatever was put in my lunchbox, then went and played, whereas I have seen younger cousins being quizzed at every possible moment on what they would like to do. They want to roll in the mud, that’s what.

 

I just want bread, fuckin'!

 

The major problem with decision fatigue is because we can no longer be bothered making new choices, we just stick to the default ones, which may not be in our best interests. Can’t decide between having the caesar salad with or without chicken? Oh fuck it, I will just get a parma instead. The wardrobe is so bursting full of clothing that it takes you at least half an hour to decide what to wear, and when you eventually clean it out you find clothes you thought you sent to the op shop years ago? Get rid of most of it.

Sarah details three ways you can make decision-making in your life easier, and thereby reduce your chance of decision fatigue:

  1. Set up your life to make less decisions.
  2. Do whatever grabs you.
  3. Spend an hour making choices.

By simplifying your life in such a way that leaves you with a tolerable amount of choices (everyone will be different on what is tolerable), you will be less likely to make default choices. Sarah uses the example of how she is currently living out of a suitcase and therefore rotates between three outfits. One dirty, one clean, one being worn. Simple. That wouldn’t work for me unless I was travelling, but I can use her analogy to take a good hard look at my wardrobe. I take FOREVER to decide what to wear every day, simply because I have soooo many clothes. It is completely unneccessary, as I wear the same ones over and over. While I am not quite ready to tackle the wardrobe, I have been cleaning out my space and preparing in general for life as a full-time worker next year, by de-cluttering and thereby limiting my choice of distractions.

Sarah also promotes the idea of doing tasks which appeal to you the most. Instead of sitting there with your to-do-list ho humming over what should have priority, just do all the things first that most appeal to you, or that won’t seem like a chore. This idea may not appeal to some people as it means you could be leaving the most onerous task to last, but it also means that you won’t have any excuses because it is the only thing you have left to do…so just get on with it!

Lastly, Sarah advocates the idea of just sitting down, and getting a whole lot of stuff over and done with in a short space of time. Things like emails, bills, letters, and all those other little annoying things that require our attention and a decision on. Instead of deliberating over them and making a mountain out of a molehill, just make snap decisions, get it over and done with, and move on with life.

By reducing the stress decisions cause in your life, not only are you getting the decision-making over and done with, you are also leaving yourself a lot of free time to do whatever the hell you want with!

 

Chill, like this super awesome sloth.

 

So in my maiden voyage into the art of quick and effective decision-making I made a snap decision (well after about a week) to move out next year. My friend Creepy Krystal had already asked me a few times to be her roommate but I had never really taken the idea too seriously. I always made excuses to myself about saving money, living close to the hospital I want to work at, being able to travel, being reluctant to leave my parents and brother and the very unique family life we live. However. I will be 23 next year. My parents have supported me through five years of tertiary education. They have paid for all my food, the majority of my bills, and for all my living expenses in this last year that I have been unemployed. We are also starting to get cabin fever. I am fighting more with my mum, becoming more intolerant of some of my brothers usually cute but often annoying mannerisms and quirks. Dad is probably the only person I stay constant with, he tends to be like a leveler between us all. The decision to move out also ties in, believe it or not, with my desire to lose weight. My mother is fiercely protective of her kitchen, and as yet I have not had the opportunity (or one could say the permission!) to learn how to cook. As a result I eat my mothers, while excellent, delicious and nutritious, cooking, I also eat her ridiculously oversized portions that are often laden with carb dense foods. I feel moving out with give me the freedom to cook what I want and change to a clean eating lifestyle. But most of all? It is just time. Time for me to become a real adult, to become independent, to make my own home. I can’t wait. 🙂

 

A wee cottage...such a shame I live in the city!

 

Hopefully I will make many more good decisions to come. Like finishing my last assignment, which I decide to do right now!

xx

There was a moth crawling in my sleeve…

So I was sitting here getting ready to formulate another smashing blog post, and kept feeling that creepy crawly feeling on my left arm. I thought I was delusional, as I get the creepy crawly feeling at least once a day for whatever reason, but upon further investigation, I discovered a moth had somehow gotten in there. Silly little moth.

🙂

Today I helped my favourite whorebag Victtoria ‘run’ the op shop her mum, ‘Queen Dyke’, works at while she nipped out for a while. I love op shops. I love the eclectic bunch of crap, discarded clothing, and former loved items. I love rifling through all of this stuff to find my newest treasure. I love that musty op shop smell. Possibly the best part of op shops though? The clientele.

The op shop in question is in the lovely suburb of Flemington (*insert mild sarcasm here*). As a result, it attracts a wide variety of Asian, African, slightly left/right/up/down of the centre people, and a lot of people who frequent op shops because their socio-economic status prevents their affordability from being sufficient to buy new clothing/crockery/books etc. You get your lovely grandmas pinching pennies, your hipsters buying out ALL the cool clothes in one fell swoop, and your usual riff raff and down-and-outers trying to scam you down to the last cent. Which is annoying considering this op shop is considerably cheaper than the big warehouse varieties like Savers.

My favourite people are the ones who tell you their life story. All about their mother/father/sister/brother/daughter/son/friend/dog/elephant/giraffe. Whether or not you care. You get it anyway. I just love getting that micro slice of another persons life. It is what I loved about working in retail for four years. I hated the paperwork and the hoopla that came with the job, but I loved chatting to my regulars.

The next best part of spending a day working in an op shop? When customers are scarce, you can scour the racks for finds. I got a (I suspect) never/rarely worn black dress with white polka dots that fits like it was custom-made, and an adorable little tan leather purse (made in italy) that is in terrible condition but that I am going to inject a bit of love into to try to spruce it up a bit. If it doesn’t work, well who cares, it is cute as anyway, perfect for a night out!

You never know what you might find at the op shop... or how stupid alcohol will make you act and look!

I will definitely be heading back to the op shop for some more days of fun.

And to buy clothes. Lots and lots of clothes.

🙂 xx