Miss Frou Frou has entered the building...

Well, I'm back... not sure for how long... but am here anyway...

To any of you still checking in occasionally I have no excuses for not posting very regularly apart from the fact that I haven't felt the need to say much of anything.

What's been happening?

Working for the man... Well - I had a job interview early December, that didn't pan out - which is probably not a bad thing... but it's left me in a bit of a quandary - I feel restless and unhappy about some elements of my work, and there are lots of opportunities out there at present, BUT I love the team of people I work with and while there are days when I could cheerfully throttle others around the place, the team make it all bearable. I know I could go somewhere else, possibly earn more dollars, and also find a role that would reduce some of the stress I'm currently under...

But I'm wondering what is important... the fact that I've found a little niche for myself, working with a group of people I love and respect, who appear to love and respect me (on my good days) and tolerate my eccentricities and histrionics (on my bad days). Or the need to have a job that fulfills me in a way that my present one doesn't completely... and run the risk of finding the job, but not enjoying the people quite so much... (sounds a bit like my eternal quandary about men!)

God bless rest you merry gentlemen women...
I had a quiet, contemplative Christmas/ New Year that has rolled on into most of January. Lots of reading (2 to 3 books a week), watching TV (catching up on shows from 2006/2007), sleeping and even some quilty things...

Wherever I lay my hat, that's my home... it looks likely that I will need to find a new home sometime this year, as my landlords have decided against offering me a new lease, as they are thinking of selling. I got very, very depressed at this... this is my 4th year here, and it is very much my home. Initially decided if I have to leave, then I want to do it on my terms, and got even more depressed looking at what passes for decent, affordable housing around here. But discussing this with friends have decided to just wait and see what happens.

The Queen of stuff... Have spent the weekend sorting through my 1930s reproduction fabrics partly because I was inspired by stumbling across this post on the Happy Zombie - hooley dooley I'd love me a stash like that says I... then realised I've probably got close to a stash like that already! Have well over 200 different 1930s reproduction fabrics -let alone all the other fabric I've accumulated.

Now, considering Ms.J. has twisted my arm painfully (yeah right) to go along to a Dear Jane workshop and maybe start one of these suckers, I figured using 1930s fabrics might be the go, if I had enough of them (ha,ha, ha...).

But seriously, my fabric obsession seems ever so slightly out of control... I don't even know what I've got anymore... so, progressively working my way through and sorting and folding seems like a good idea... and maybe culling?

moar funny pictures
Am also doing the same with my book collection... with 7 full height bookshelves groaning under the weight of books, I'm going through and being ruthless... have I read it? Yes. Do I want to read it again? Yes - then keep, if no - dispose. If I haven't read it yet do I want to? No - then discard!

If I am going to have a move, then I need to get organised so that I'm not taking anything with me, that I don't want or need. I've still got boxes from the move 4 years ago, that haven't been unpacked!

A room of her own... Well, I've got a whole house, but have also got organised and bought myself a decent desk, chair and a new monitor and keyboard. I am currently churning out a suite of policies and procedures for work. Churning being the operative word... have been more productive this month in this area than I had been all year - I think primarily as I've been set up with remote access at home, and encourage to spend a day a week at home working, which is blissful without the everyday distractions of people popping in and phone calls.

I've discovered I can be quite disciplined with this working from home thing... hoping that when the current mad spurt of work is over I can roll that over into being disciplined to do some creative writing of my own.

The writing of anything for pleasure has gone by the wayside at present, too much professional writing happening to even get into the right headspace... another reason why I've not been posting much.

And so it goes... as for personal stuff... I'm good. Nothing momentous happening, just enjoying myself, probably being a bit more solitary than I normally would be at this time of year, but not unhappily so... though I'm busy organising a sort of birthday bash for mid-March which looks like being fun - dinner and dancing with some mates, and generally making mayhem!

Oh well.... need to get back to fabric folding... catch you later...

I should be...

I should be...

1. Doing Housework
2. Doing ironing for the week ahead
3. Practising the Tahitian song of welcome that I'm struggling with for choir
4. Working on the short story I'm thinking of submitting to SPICE briefs that Shiloh mentioned on her blog
5. Or getting down on paper the idea that came through yesterday's meditation ... we meditated on the Knight of Cups (the Knight in Shining Armour of legend) and I had the loveliest meditation about a strange, geeky girl... would make a very sweet historical
6. Doing some more work on The Wishlist - haven't written a word in weeks - this is why I didn't do Sven!
   
7. Working on the CFA Bushfire Quilt projects
   

Instead I'm trawling the blogosphere, and suggesting you go and check out Post Secrets - this project always makes me laugh, cry, sigh and generally feel that us homo sapiens are a weird lot, but worth it...

And Solitaire's the only game in town...

Miss Frou Frou -- [noun]: A hermit living in the big city 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

How weird is this? Though I'm pretty sure the meanings are random, if I put Miss Frou Frou in more than once, I'd get more than one answer... but still this is a bit weird... considering my current mood...

With 8 weeks of Sunday choir rehearsals, and meditation classes and catching up with friends and other social activities and work I'm getting a bit frazzled...

Am seriously looking forward to next weekend, after the first two Choir Concerts, and a friends birthday party on Saturday night ... I have 3 days off... am going to spend them on my own, I hope... not speaking... shut away in my little bolthole... I'm not sure if I can wait that long...

This is what worries me most I think about having a serious relationship with someone else, my need for solitude... which can come on unexpectedly at times... will someone understand my need to regularly hibernate... to be still and quiet?

Though Jeni B, my tarot reader/ teacher keeps telling me that the 'right' person will understand that need, and more than likely have the same need. She keeps reminding me of a theme through my meditations over the last 2 years of myself, in a little cottage, in a room that is mine, with my books and crafty things and an open fire and a desk by the window at which I write. And in all of those meditations, there is either someone working alone in another room, or someone else close by... a footfall at the door, a shadow, the anticipation of someone expected... sigh... I wish...


Of course, in the Tarot, the Hermit symbolises much of these feelings. A time to withdraw, to be introspective in order to gain perspective. Soul-searching, time for self-illumination, truth and wisdom of the higher self. It can also represent a guide, a wise woman/man offering others that same illumination, truth and wisdom. I sometimes wonder if I'm meant to take both meanings, I'm definitely someone who searches my soul... but am I also required to share the results of that soul-searching?


Note: When I put in my real name I was told that it means "tastes like chicken"... lol

If I look confused it's because I'm thinking... Samuel Goldwyn

What things there are to write, if one could only write them!
My mind is full of gleaming thought; gay moods and mysterious,
moth-like meditations hover in my imagination, fanning their painted wings. But always the rarest,
those streaked with azure and the deepest crimson,
flutter away beyond my reach. ~Logan Pearsall Smith

I've been quiet... as both Rhian and Sheila have pointed out... have struggled to write anything here... not because there isn't anything to write about, but because there is! Nothing momentous, or life altering to anyone other than me!

As I said to someone today, my life is very ordinary and at the same time so surreal and bizarre, I really don't need to write fiction...

It's like the last 12 months have created a series of small, tiny events, each one inconsequential but each leading on to the next thing. Changing jobs, meeting particular people, being encouraged to communicate, starting this blog, discovering all of you wonderful people out there who engage me with your words and ideas, and respond to my own.

I have started to write several things recently about some of the things happening both to me, and around me and how they make me feel.

So many things flying through my head, I can barely pin a thought down, but at the same time a sense of clarity and understanding that I don't believe I've ever felt so acutely before.

It is as if a part of me is sitting outside and watching... this more than a little bit crazy girl trying to hold it together and pondering the how, when, where's and more importantly, the why's of her life.

And I wanted to share them, but have been reluctant to. Possibly because some of the people involved are frequent or infrequent readers here. Though I don't think that was the main reason, it's just that more recently, I've realised that this blog, at this point in time, my only real public outpourings for me as a writer, has changed... with meme's and Thursday 13s and other fun things, the reason why I started this in the first place has drifted away.

And I want to get back to that original purpose... the musings of a little, fat, funny girl waffling about life, love and all that jazz... but I'm strangely fearful... but of what?

So, bear with me please... I'm good, I know this is all a bit cryptic, but I'm fine... choir rehearsals are wonderful and joyous but the nerves are kicking in as we approach the concert dates, I'm doing some quilting, and reading and writing lots. Alternating between wakefulness and sleep, and a bit frail physically (week 5 of this awful flu/virus) but emotionally feeling really strong and positive.

I'm just processing some stuff prior to the next step... a bit like The Fool in the Tarot... wandering along gazing at the heavens, almost about to step over a cliff. Is that foolhardy, or is that brave? Will I fall or will I fly? Only time will tell....

And by the way, everything in life is writable about
if you have the outgoing guts to do it,
and the imagination to improvise.
The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. ~Sylvia Plath

Holy crap, you talk about sex a lot...

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

* sex (19x)
* crap (2x)
* penis (1x)

Not going to use that other word - it's wwwude...

Help me if you can, I'm feeling .... verklempt....

OK, well... you have no idea how tempted I was to sign up for Alison Kent's 70 Days of Sweat Writing Challenge particularly as most of my favourite people (Rhi - I'm turning into you cause I keep typing peeple or peeps!) including Rhian, Thomma Lyn, Joely, Shiloh and, last but not least, Red are taking up the challenge and I suspect the blog traffic will be a bit slow while they've got their heads down and bums up trying to churn out 4-6 pages of writing a day for the next 70 days.

My 'gunna' personality (I'm gunna do this and I'm gunna do that) kicked in to top gear and I thought "I could do this", it would be a fantastic kick start for me who has a multitude of ideas floating in my head, as this would force me to commit to putting ideas down on paper.

I'm putting it down to slightly flu induced insanity... and cooler/ calmer heads prevailed when I thought about my next 70 days... I have to either draft or review and redraft 32 policies and procedures for work by the end of the year, so that's a big chunk of writing time in my working hours (you know that thing I do, called a job!).

And then I had the internal conversation "oh - I could not write a lot during the week and basically just churn during the weekend" - I am 100% certifiably nuts!

I have 3 hours of choir rehearsal every Sunday for the next 7 weeks, and am barely scratching the surface and need to put some extra hours in so I can actually learn these bloody songs as I am now performing in not 1, not 2 but 3 concerts and what's more have people coming to watch these performances... I'm tired and emotional just thinking about it... add in twice weekly tarot/ meditation classes and housework (which I hate to do at the best of times) and really... What was I thinking?

And it's not like I even have a concrete story idea to flesh out ... as previously stated there are little snippets written down, but most of these story ideas are buried deep in my brain and there is nothing I could just pick up and go 'right - I'm half way through and need to write another 50,000 words to finish'.

So, have decided instead of setting a totally unrealistic for me goal of writing 4-6 pages a day, that I would settle on ONE idea and try to flesh it out and write as much as I can, when I can over the next 70 days.

This is where I need your help! I have not 1, not 2, but 5 story ideas, and need to get a bit of a feel for which ones to try to expand on... would be interested in feedback from any/or all of you as to which story you would most like to read:

IDEA ONE: late 30s/early 40s single quilt shop owner is bullied persuaded by her girl buddies to do the personals thing... so story is a humorous take on singledom and dating. Add in a nerdy, slightly pompous guy who buys the building next door to create his own bookshop to the mix and all sorts of things happen... have a rough draft of the scene where he meets her for the first time, that involves pouring rain, a cat having a litter of kittens, and a very well rounded bottom covered in a sodden pink chenille dressing-gown and bunny slippers (oh, did I say she's a bit of an oddball?) protruding from under a crate.

IDEA TWO: Family of women, mother and 2 sisters, over a 15-20 year period in a small country town and the men they are involved with. One sister, the pretty princess type, the other the shy, brainy one. Main male characters are the local small town boy made good, his estranged father and shy, brainy girl's best friend.

IDEA THREE: 7 friends, 2 sets of brother/sisters, one Aussie, one Greek, growing up in Collingwood during the 60s and 70s. Main story arc is the return of one of the men after being overseas for a number of years and the changing dynamic on the group, who have known each other since primary school but are now adults... Settings include a bookshop run by one of the women, and a bar run by one of the men... some of this comes from my own teenage years growing up in the area.

IDEA FOUR: this is a weird one... something I will definitely explore as fiction at some point, but may need to think about some more. Based on a very realistic dream that I recorded about a decade ago, that felt like a story. A woman in her early 30s, at a business retreat, should have been unconscious but wasn't when the area was investigated by (not sure, aliens? people with special powers? government agents doing an experiment?... all a bit unclear). On discovering her conscious and aware, one of the group (a man of around the same age) takes her with him... and there are various scenes, that indicated that she'd been drugged or brainwashed into not remembering what happened, but at the same time had some deep connection to this man that played out in dreams as she went on to live her life. Told in an alternating POV or possible alternating chapters.

IDEA FIVE: this is the story I've got furthest along with... based on a series of short stories I wrote several years ago... about a relationship between a couple and their exploration of a sexual wishlist... this would be considered erotica in it's present form, I guess. Not hardcore, but relatively frank in its subject matter. Rhian has read one of these stories already, there are probably about 4 or 5 more... would just need some work to write the surrounding story around them to create a cohesive structure.

To be honest, it's idea one I've had the most fun thinking about in the last little while... it's genesis was a similar story about quilt shop owner and her buddies and the dating thing, except in the original story all her dates were being attacked and the slightly pompous guy was the policeman investigating these incidents. Wrote about 10 or so pages, before I decided I didn't really enjoy writing that involved inflicting harm on someone so dropped it, and have been working through alternating scenarios ever since.

So which one would you read? Why?

Thursday Thirteen #6...It was a dark and stormy night

My 13 Favourite Bulwer-Lytton Contest entries.

Edward George Bulwer-Lytton wrote the following opening paragraph in Paul Clifford, 1830: It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals,when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."

The annual Bulwer-Lytton Contest, sponsored by the English Department of the San Jose State University first started in 1982 and can attract 10,000 entries each year for composing the opening sentence for the worst possible novel. There is a website where you can find the rules of the contest and some of the past winners and dishonourable mentions. Compiled below are some of my favourites from the 2006 contest.

Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you've had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean. Jim Quigli, Carmichael CA - 2006 Winner

"I know what you're thinking, punk," hissed Wordy Harry to his new editor, "you're thinking, 'Did he use six superfluous adjectives or only five?' - and to tell the truth, I forgot myself in all this excitement; but being as this is English, the most powerful language in the world, whose subtle nuances will blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel loquacious?' - well do you, punk?" Stuart Vasepuru, Edinburgh, Scotland - 2006 Runner Up

It was a day, like any other day, in that Linus got up, faced the sunrise, used his inhaler, applied that special cream between his toes, wrote a quick note and put it in a bottle, and wished he'd been stranded on the island with something other than 40 cases each of inhalers, decorative bottles, and special toe cream. Chris Harget, Campbell CA - Dishonourable mention - Adventure, 2006

When Debbie decided that Salt 'n' Pepper Beard was the most attractive pirate on the ship, she realized that choosing him was due to the advice of Sylvia, her new Life Coach, to be realistic about her own age and to open herself up to romance where it lay, unlike the troublesome past where she would have wished that only the younger pirates take advantage of her. Jim Guigli, Carmichael, CA - Dishonourable Mention - Historical Fiction 2006

Lisa moved like a cat, not the kind of cat that moves with a slinky grace but more like the kind that always falls off the book shelf when he's washing himself and then gets all mad at you like it's your fault (which it wasn't although it probably was kind of mean to laugh at him like that), although on the bright side, she hardly ever attacked Ricky's toes in his sleep. Debra Allen, Wichita Falls, TX - Dishonourable Mention, Purple Prose, 2006

Sex with Rachel after she turned fifty was like driving the last-place team on the last day of the Iditarod Dog Sled Race, the point no longer the ride but the finish, the difficulty not the speed but keeping all the parts moving in the right direction, not to mention all that irritating barking. Dan Winters, Los Altos Hills, CA - Runner up, Romance, 2006

Herr Professor Doktor Weiss' reputation was made when he conclusively proved the fraudulency of the Mayan codex that claimed to show that that ancient people knew the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter to an exactitude unknown until modern times, in his article, "Bye, Bye, Mesoamerican Pi." John L. Drost, Barboursville, WV - Runner up, Vile Puns, 2006

Cheralynn posed before the unblinking mirror, panting weakly, as her private surgeon hovered around her, tightening the straps on her custom-made girdle, and it dawned on her for the first time in her pampered, overindulged 49 years, that it was only a matter of time before she would succumb to Furniture Disease, and her chest would fall into her drawers. Tracey MacDonald, Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Dishonourable Mentions, Vile Puns, 2006

Butch glared balefully across the saloon at Tex, who had been stone dead since the scorpion he had unwittingly sat on had bitten him on the butt some half an hour or so ago, little suspecting that this was going to be his toughest staring contest since the one against old Glass-eyed Juan, during the great sand-storm of '42, at the height of the Arizona conjunctivitis epidemic. Geoff Blackwell, Bundaberg QLD, Australia - Runner Up, Western 2006

Getting the performance rating of highly successful, although clearly nothing to be ashamed of, left Blevins somewhat oddly dissatisfied, like when you realize, upon having the triage nurses greet your ambulance, that your underwear, as far as you can determine, is in pretty decent condition, but you'll, nonetheless, never pull through the surgery. Jim Lubell, Mechanicsville, Maryland - Miscellaneous Dishonourable Mention, 2006

Ah, yes, it was a beautiful face with skin smoother than pumice and breath fresher than a twenty-five-day-old tuna sandwich stored for safe keeping in a Wichita schoolgirl's lunchbox, and I found myself beset, nay, overcome, with twin urges: to ravish her there and then on the cash register, or to slough off the skin of my calloused feet on the stubble of her chin. Cathy Bannister, Kaleen, Canberra, Australia,Miscellaneous Dishonourable Mention, 2006

The day was like any other, except that this was a Wednesday so it was really only like 1/7th of the other days. Randy Wilson, New Albany, IN, Miscellaneous Dishonourable Mention, 2006

Frank took one look at Tina's moderately shapely legs, her adequate waist, her decent bosom, and her not-unattractive face, and said to himself "Well, hello Miss You'll-Do-Until-Something-Better-Comes-Along!" Lawrence Person, Austin, TX, Miscellaneous Dishonourable Mention, 2006

Not the Monday Poetry Train...

"We write to taste life twice,

in the moment and in retrospection" – Anais Nin

I have always been an avid reader, reading all of the 1st and 2nd year school readers before the end of first semester, my first year of school, and my teacher suggested to my mother that I join the junior library, something to which I am forever thankful as it opened me up to the world… literally. Even then I loved fiction… the stuff of imagination.

And I have written stuff and nonsense almost since I was first able to form letters and words. Usually, some fantastical story, with a wry twist in the tail that had a character that closely resembled me. There are some examples floating around the house somewhere, I should find them and relook at them. They are probably awful, but I suspect they are not that much different in style to how I write now, even though the subject matter was I hope, very different!

As a young child, I used to make up skits, that I would bully coerce my friends into performing around the neighbourhood, a fledgling Jo March... who I dreamed of growing up to be, sitting in my garret, with ink stained fingers, writing books and plays about her life and the people in it.

I thought about being a journalist in my final years of high school, which I would have been terrible at, I now realise. But it seemed to be a career that would allow me to write. And I started a Professional Writing and Editing course, six years ago, that I quit after completing two subjects, partly because my father became ill, but mostly, as I didn't care for the rules, and being told how and what to write.

There are lots of incomplete stories I’ve started over the years, with a female protagonist, who is an awful lot like me, but with all the rough bits smoothed away. She is prettier, and funnier, and taller… as I told the Nature Boy today, what’s the point of writing fiction, if you can’t embellish on it… but these women, these versions of me, still struggle to be heard, and understood and loved.

I wonder if the reason why these stories are unfinished, is because my own story is… I don’t know what the ending will be yet… so how can I write of endings for them, my better halves.

None of these tales have been shared with anyone… they sit, in notebooks and on loose sheets of paper shoved into drawers that are rarely opened.

"The role of the writer is not to say what we can all say,
but what we are unable to say" – Anais Nin

My friend, Nature Boy, is a constant source of encouragement, by providing a willing, and sometimes not so willing ear and eye for my stuff and nonsense… laughing at my whimsy, and empathising with my woes…he makes me smile, and think and ponder…probably cause he’s so generous with his praise and tells me often how much I make him smile, and think and ponder…

He has an interesting and engaging writing style of his own, though he’d be unlikely to ever admit that he is a writer and storyteller, he has the whole self-effacing, modest shtick down to a fine art, which in itself makes me smile…

We are very different. It’s why I enjoy our written stoushes so much. He, with his neat, tidy but incredibly evocative words that convey such a strong sense of feeling, and place and time, and his total disdain for capital letters, conjunctions and punctuation battling my dense, verbose, fanciful waffling, I’m the girl who uses capital letters, and full punctuation in my text messages.

A recent example of the Short Response King took me immediately to every grungy laundrette that I’ve ever been in, which is why I praised him in my comments on Rhian’s Monday Poetry Train yesterday.

"laundrette…washing clothes…old mags… last weeks Herald Sun… disgruntled student… a hair in the washing machine… not mine... cute blond traveller… what am I doing here…(Nature Boy, 2007)

And in asking permission to include the above on my blog his email response below had me spitting coffee out all over the keyboard.

all good
short responses rock
look out gore vidal
I rock
look out Tolstoy
you rock (Nature Boy, 2007)

What a goof! Everyone knows if they’re going to compare me to anyone it should be (fill in the blanks)…though that might be a less than subtle crack about my verbal diarrhoea…

It is because of him, that I started this blog in the first place, and in the short time I have been writing here, I’ve hit the publish button 69 times.

Some of those times I’ve published meme’s, silly quizzes and more recently my unconscious mutterings and Thursday Thirteen, but the majority of times I’ve hit that button I’ve been sharing some aspect of my life.

In my first blog, I talked about taking baby steps into sharing my thoughts with the wider world, and I’ve certainly done that, to the shock/horror amazement of some of my other friends in RL.

And it is through this process that I have realised that I too have a voice, and a style, that is uniquely my own… that I am a writer, a storyteller…and always have been…it is just that now the planets seem to be aligned, and for any number of reasons I am gaining confidence in speaking and sharing my voice with others.

Well… a little bit… the reason I started to write this post is despite a yearning to do so, and cajoling and pleading from Rhian, I have found endless excuses to prevent me from posting something for her Monday Poetry Train.

I’ve enjoyed reading all of the other contributions, trying to get my mind to grapple with the subtle and not so subtle imagery conveyed with their poems and prose… but I have yet to be able to post something of my own… and I’m left wondering why.

Is it because my stories, my fiction, really is not so much fiction at all… but is about me, my dreams, my thoughts, my wants and needs. And while I can share some of this, as I blog away contentedly on my own, I’m not yet ready to put these out there. To deliberately post something, with a flourish, of here it is, read me, hate me, enjoy me, condemn me, love me…

Though I’m tempted…sigh…

"I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic -- in the sense that I live in my world. I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself." Anais Nin

I wish......

You Should Be a Film Writer

You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind. You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life. Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling. And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen!

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up....

My friend flickchick sent this to me today, as she's busting a boiler to send it on to anyone but is concerned about who she should send it to, as some of her best friends are Librarians... and they might take offence.

She knew I'd like it as I know she used to be a Librarian, but she's alright now...


Of course, what I'd really like to be is one of these...

PS. Look what they say about blogs!

Beam me up Scotty, this planet sucks....

Am not going to write much, actually wouldn't trust myself to at present. I'm cranky, grumpy, grouchy, tired and emotional and just plain cross...

Even my boss asked me if I was ok today as she picked up a vibe that I wasn't my usual bubbly self... I'm normally pretty easygoing... I'll admit to being intense a lot and very analytical and introspective, but I can usually take most of life's small annoying things in my stride...

I jokingly told the Nature Boy a couple of weeks ago, that as long as I was kept in a steady stream of chocolate and dairy products, particularly icecream, I didn't get PMS.... I LIED!

There isn't enough chocolate and icecream on the planet
to keep me sane at present...

Add to that, Mercury is retrograde in Pisces (my ruling planet) at present

Mercury rules communication, but more informal communications, like writing, speaking, short shopping sprees and running other errands. So, while Mercury is Retrograde, don't give that party, be extra aware of what you say and what you interpret when chatting with or writing to friends, cut back on errands, expect that the check will be in the mail longer than usual. Since the car is usually used for shopping and errands, don't be surprised if the battery wire loosens or the fan belt snaps just when you have to rush out for that one ingredient you forgot to buy.

The good things to do when Mercury is Retrograde: meditate, contemplate, edit the book/poem/song/ essay you've been writing, clean house, talk to your pet, listen to music, paint, catch up on sleep! www.writerinthewindow.com

Oh god... I'm outta here ... before I poke someone's eye out with a stick... preferably my own...

Ego is not a dirty word...

So if you've got an ego
You better keep it in good shape,
Exercise it daily
And get it down on tape (Ego is not a dirty word, Skyhooks)

It's been a funny week... sharing my blog with friends and getting some feedback. The question of blog names has come up a lot.

When offered the opportunity to come up with their own blog names the Groove Train Gang all responded in different ways, with one in particular, being incredibly paranoid about who would be reading this stuff...

We've come up with flickchick, for the movie-obsessed girl in our gang - she is my 'Melbourne international movie festival' buddy - dragging me along to see films I'd never actually choose to see normally.

And then on Friday night I had a hilarious telephone conversation from one of the gang.

From her conversation I have to assume that she had indulged in one or two or ten sherbets, and was one or two drinks away from the 'I loves youse all' phase. She was terribly excited, wanting to know if the savoury girl that I would buy gourmet cheeses for rather than chocolate in my Valentine's Day blog was her.

Her: That was me, wasn't it? The girl who likes cheese, that was me?

Me: Yes, that was you

Her: I knew it! I told everyone that it was me. They were all 'so what' but it is so cool reading these and wondering who everyone is, and then recognising yourself...

Me: Is it? I'm a bit worried about saying too much about everyone, hence my giving everyone blog names. You'll have to be cheese girl now?

Her: Cheese girl! That's so cool

She's gorgeous... and is so funny... at our last get together she announced to the table that she was writing a book 'The Year I turned 32 and became invisible' and then announced dramatically that she had NO FRIENDS!

We all looked at one another a bit perplexed, before laughing out loud and saying - what the heck are we, chopped liver!

My friend (loveulongtime) was a bit upset cause I hadn't given her a name yet... the loveulongtime tag she made up herself when she posted a message.

I'm still struggling to come up with something... the only thing that keeps going through my mind is the weekend she and I and another friend went away and we gave each other nicknames. D.... fat bottom, J.... no bottom and V..... big all over. No prizes, for guessing that I was the big all over girl... but I'm definitely not going to start referring to her as Fat Bottom Girl!

She too has been enjoying reading the blog and trying to guess who everyone was.

It's all one giant self-indulgent wankfest really!

Though it's been lovely to get so much positive feedback. Cheese Girl, in her usual, backhanded complimentary style, said - I knew you were always pretty good with words, but I never realised just how good you were...

And the Nature Boy, has continued to give me lots of support, he said I was an artist... oh my... and said, yes, he would support me if he could afford to, when I laughingly asked him if he'd keep me in the style I wished to be accustomed to, so I could follow my muse...Really! - I squealed, in an embarrassingly girly fashion... talk about uncool... I can't help being such a dag!

I had to restrain myself from giving him a huge hug which would have been 50 types of wrong... not least of all because this conversation was happening in a crowded room of colleagues and said Nature Boy has a Nature Girl of his own... isn't he a treasure... and sorry, girls, I've already checked... no brothers... sigh...

So, I'm blogging along for now... though I'm conscious that it's going to be hard to appear mysterious to anyone if I keep baring my soul here... and I've just realised how weird it is, that I've just written a blog entry, about my blog entries... my brain hurts!

Not with a bang, but with a whimper...

Well, here goes I guess...my first baby steps into sharing my thoughts with the wider world.

Why am I here? Have always loved telling anecdotes and stories, and riffing on whatever stray thought has settled long enough in my brain to actually register.

And a very new friend, after playing email tag where I think I have mildly amused him with said riffs has encouraged me to actually 'write'.

Mind you this could be the Nature Boy's sly attempt to get me to stop pestering him with email. But if you're reading this and thinking you want to do permanent damage to someone as a result, then he's the one you should go looking for - let me know, I'll give you his address...

Writing is something I've done for most of my life, but never in any serious and committed way. There's a shoebox full of short stories started, most featuring a little, fat, funny girl who closely resembles me, except she's much wittier and prettier, and everybody loves her. Heah, if you're going to write fictional stories about yourself, you are allowed to embellish!

And for a brief and shining moment I thought I was going to make my fortune as a writer of erotic fiction... well the guy I wrote them for liked them... except he said there was too much description and not enough action... but that's a whole other tale to be told...and not one I'm ready to share as yet, if ever.

As for the blog name? I used to be (fill in the blanks) but I'm alright now is one of my favourite things to say, and depending on how you say it, and what the missing word is, can get the whole gamut of reactions, but usually a laugh.

Some of my examples:

• I used to be a Collingwood supporter, but I'm alright now
• I used to be a good girl, but I'm alright now - this works particularly well when talking to boys if you say it absolutely deadpan, and then do the whole coy smile, flutter of eyelids outrageously routine
  
• I used to be skinny, but I'm alright now - in my case, usually results in sniggers, as it's pretty clear my blubber has been around long enough to set! Sigh...