perfect life

so, i have been thinking about branching out into counselling. thinking about doing one year post grad, getting work to pay for it, at Latrobe, one day a week, get a diploma, might do a slight sidestep at work. only problem is that my contract finished at the end of this financial year, and while it's 99.99% certain i'll be staying at my company, the training department won't be able to pay for a year's tuition because of that .01% chance that i'll leave at the end of the contract, which would be halfway through the diploma.

what a pointless explanation. my point was this; i instead enrolled to do Lifeline's telephone counselling course. work is still paying, but it takes 4 months (i think). so it will fit in before July 1st 2009.

so - i rang Lifeline 50 times, left a bagillion messages, applied online numerous times (this was all 5 months ago) and heard diddly squat back from them. screw you.

then last week when i was off work sick i suddenly received a telephone call... congratulations! you have made it through to the next selection round! please come Wednesday morning... blahblahblah.

and then the lady said something really weird. she asked me if i have any problems disclosing information.

Me: uhm... no
Lady: ok, because the course can get quite full on
Me: (suddenly clicking that she meant disclosing personal experiences) oh, yeah, nah, i have no problem
Lady: but, i do have to really warn you, the course is extremely full on
Me: oh yeah, i know other worker's who have done it, they've already told me all the horror stories, i'm still up for it! (laughing)
Lady: so you're sure you're ok to speak and disclose? like, really, disclose everything?
Me: Yes. Yes. I'm sure

i called my friend J. from work (who has done the course) and told her that the lady is trying to weed out people with current personal issues. J. said that they get you to talk about personal stuff in mock counselling sessions with one another.

cool.

so i began thinking about what i would say.

and i came up with...

...nothing

...nada

...jackshit.

fucking iPhone

i'm fucking over it. seriously. i used to do graphic design therefore i love apple everything but the iPhone is a piece of absolute shit.

i bought it and in the first week it froze on me.

then i discovered i couldn't send or receive picture messages - half of my fun in my life is sending stupid pics to my friends. big problem for me

then i discovered that the text messaging is screwed in a hundred different aspects. i can't forward messages - eg. invitations, addresses etc. i cannot cut and paste to combat the lack of forwarding functions. and worst of all - i cannot text message under my desk, or in the car etc, i need to LOOK at what i'm doing - it's decreasing my multitasking abilities.

i keep telling people not to get it. for a period of time, when i was having serious withdrawel symptoms from MMSing i was using three phones; work, iPhone and old phone.

and now this.

the only thing i've ever said was good about it was the iCalendar. it was great for my work appointments. awesome.

then this morning i decided to update my iphone to 2.2 before work.

and it was taking too long.

so i pulled the plug.

and now it's FROZEN telling me to reconnect to iTunes immediately.

SHUTUP. just turn on and tell me who i coming in to see me today! every client is a surprise and it's killing me cos i usually prepare before i see them. actually, i HAVE to prepare before i see them.

i'm miserable. this phone is killing me.

fuck you, iPhone

hmm

Greed:	Low
Gluttony:	Low
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	Low
Envy:	Low
Lust:	Very Low
Pride:	High

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

grrr

i'm still at home sick, so i call my clients and reschedule, i call my workmates to let them know what to do if my clients rock up, i call reception to let them know i'm off sick.

then i log into my work email to let my boss know that i'm off sick (i work offsite, so he wouldn't know)

i see a bright red email from him to me from early this morning. lo and behold, entitled 'Please read and then CALL'. hmm. i open it. obviously cos i was off for one day he went into my caseload to see how things are going with my clients. not good - never has been. my clients are lazy lazy lazy. but that's not the problem. the difference between my boss' caseload and mine is that I DON'T LIE OR PURPOSELY MAKE MISTAKES TO MAKE IT LOOK BETTER.

i shit you not, i can't count the number of times i haven't been able to get in contact with a client so my boss tells me other 'ways' to make it look like i've seen them. it's bullshit. and i can't tell you how many times in supervision i've expressed that my only problem is that my office isn't centrally located and kids never 'drop' past; they only come if they're forced to. but that's still not the problem.

the problem is that my boss thinks it's perfectly ok to break the rules when it suits him. the bigger picture here is that if you look at my caseload it looks like i'm not working with a number of clients, which is breaking guidelines, obviously. if you look at his caseload, it appears that he's working intensely with his clients (he's not, sometimes he's only listening to their voicemail and he puts in the computer that he's spoken to them), and if you look at his exits they're all done incorrectly or can't be justified. but you have to take off a couple of layers before you can see what he's doing, whereas mine is all on the surface.

i don't know. i know that i have to be more of a bitch and really lay down the law with my clients, but they change their mobile numbers every two days that even if i successfully put the fear of god into them the first day, by a week later they've forgotten and i can't contact them to instill it a second time.

sick at home

this absolutely sucks. i hate staying home sick.

1- i'd like to think that it's a nice break from my clients and their problems, but it's so not, cos i know that when i go back into work that they'll have made decisions on their own and totally screwed any number of things up. so it just means more work when i get back, that could last weeks if not months to sort out, especially if it's housing.

2- i am losing money staying at home, despite the fact that i get paid sick leave. I get paid... hmm... not sure, around $230 a day before tax. Friday alone: i drove dangerously with an eye patch on to the local shopping centre, bought a coffee $4, bought macdonalds $7.50. then drove to the doctor's, bought iron tablets, eye ointment and eye drops $46. went home, was bored, bought André Rieu tickets in the Netherlands for 75 Euro ($147). so total expenditure for Friday alone was $204.50 which you'd think is ok - i'm breaking even BUT NO! because yesterday and today i have spent all day trying to work out flights from Rome to Maastricht and it's terrible, i'm going to end up spending around $600 to fly Rome to Brussels, take a train to Maastricht, then back to Brussels, then fly to Florence. Not to mention the $70 per night hotel in Maastricht. And the fact that I think i'm going to have to forward my large suitcase from melbourne directly to Florence as i don't think i will be able to take a local train lugging my large suitcase plus my hand luggage plus a handbag and stay on top of not getting robbed. This conjunctivitis is costing me an arm and a leg; it should know that when I am bored I do things like this.

3- I'm struggling to see because of my eyes, yet i've never blogged so much, spent so much time in front of my laptop, read so many travel brochures, studied so many maps in my life. I could have gone for months without doing all this, but the second i know it's difficult for me i suddenly REALLY need to read non stop for 12 hours a day. and i can't even tell if my eyes are hurting from it all cos i'm already in so much pain.

the trouble is - my eyes sort of feel okayish now, and i wouldn't mind going into work tomorrow as i have so many clients to see, but my eyes are blood red, i look like i've escaped from the set of 28 days later. so i might go to the travel agent and back to the doctors... have to stay away from shops and my laptop as much as possible; it only results in more spending.

Classical music, boring Australians and conjunctivitis

So i went to see André Rieu last night at Telstra dome. I went with my mum, dad, nonna and auntie. I was one of very few people there that was less than half a century old - even my parents were looking pretty hip and happening. So the show begins on time (unusual - most things i go to i can easily rock up an hour late and it still won't have begun, but i guess old people are more punctual) and he begins his beyootiful music.

and it just reminded me of how BORING Australians are at concerts. It's like as if no one knows how to act - and no one is willing to act spontaneoulsy or attract attention to themselves. if you just want to listen to music, and sit still... well go listen to the cd at home! if anyone has seen Rieu's concert's on dvd - well they're not very normal - his waltzes MAKE people jump out of their seats and dance. when i first watched a dvd of his from his home town it made me so happy i wanted to cry. i love, LOVE that in europe everyone is crazy - his entire town was dancing, everyone crashing into eachother, parents dancing with their children, older couple swaying slowly with smiles stretched across their faces. And last night, we, as an audience, as an Australian audience, were just so boring i was surprised to see that André and his orchestra remained energetic. we couldn't even clap for the duration of a song. we fail miserably at being a good audience - he's so never going to come back to Australia.

anyway, just before intermission, my eyesight in my right eye suddenly clouded over - i thought a bug had flown into my eye.

Me: Mum! Mum! what's in my eye? over my pupil? i can't see!
Mum: uh, hang on stay still for a second... oh it's just some sleep. actually... i think you have conjunctivitis...
Me: ew! (wiping it away, totally grossed out that it was quite yellow) nah... oh... shit...no

the last 4 days just came rushing back to me - me meeting with a housing worker whose eyes appeared to be weeping, followed by the last few days where i thought my hayfever was playing up big time cos my eyes were really scratchy and painful, followed by yesterday morning where i laughed so much i cried and i thought that my eyes felt cleaner - how the hell did i not notice sooner? ok so i haven't had conjunctivitis since i was 7 but still - who feels 'cleaner' after crying?

so i tried my hardest to stay focussed on the concert, but 4 hours later on the drive home i was a blithering, swollen mess. I cleaned my eye with saline, and because the light was really killing me (i can't believe i did this) i put an eyepatch on to sleep. woke up this morning at 6am feeling like there were razors between my eyeball and the lid - washed again with saline. took 30 minutes to even get my eye open - YUK!

anyway - called in sick, spent all morning sending disgusting pictures of my eye to workmates, they messagesd back pirate jokes. Happy happy joy joy.

went to the doctor's at 1pm. she totally freaked and ran all these other tests on my eye cos she thought it had to be way more than just conjunctivitis - nope, turns out i just have the worst case in the world.

went home and no one was responding to my messages or answering my calls. within 2 minutes i was so bored that i would have taken my eyeball out to look at it properly just for something to do. started googling André Rieu when i began writing this blog to check the spelling of his last name.

hmm... i wonder if he's doing a concert in Italy when i'm there?

let's check.

oh my.

he seems to be performing in his hometown of Maastricht on Denmark on the 10th, 11th and 12th of July.

now, i don't know, but as far as i'm concerned that enough to be a coincidence for me. because i'm getting to Rome at 7am on Friday the 10th but i can't check in to my florence student accomodation till Sunday afternoon. i was trying to work out somewhere i could go for 2 days but i wasn't interested in Rome, been there done that. i was wanting to go to somewhere totally new, i was thinking of Perugia.

and this concert seemed to fall in my lap, right?

well i bought a ticket anyway, spent the rest of the evening trying to work out how i'm going to get there. i think, in the end, i'll just end up going to my travel agent that booked me the tickets and pay a change fee to go singapore - copenhagen instead of rome.

waited till my parents left last night to tell my brother and sister what i'd done - they were rapt. woke up this morning and mum said 'so... i hear you're going to see André Rieu in Denmark?' the craziest thing is that neither sibling told her... and i didn't write about my secretive purchase on Facebook - cos i know she stalks me on there!

STOP THINKING AND GO TO SLEEP

this post is going to be complete and total utter rubbish. it's 1.56am, exactly 56 minutes past my usual self inflicted bed time. Only time i break this rule on a week night is for boyfriends or very very very very serious dramas (like when i locked my keys in the car with the pizza INSIDE and the RACV man took his sweet arse time)

i'm sleepy but i'm not. i really wish tomorrow was Saturday so i wouldn't have to be stressing right now that i'm going to be a babbling moron at work tomorrow due to sleep deprivation.

i lay in bed at, what? maybe 11.30. uploaded some pics onto facebook while simultaneously reading Bridget Jones the edge of reason (we'll get into that later). So bored and not tired I even reinstated my speeddate account (shit, am writing this post in wrong blog if going to start talking about dating... double shit, sound like Helen Fielding, fuck Bridget Jones). anyway - lunatics, absolute lunatics on that thing, but it's kinda cool that you can do it from FB. what the fuck am i even talking about, i'm so tired but not.

1.37 - i was closing my laptop, turning off my lamp... heard stomach grumble. Stupid part of brain convinced the rest of my body that i wouldn't be able to sleep if i was hungry, despite the fact that i had more than a decent amount of vegetarian nasi goreng with oyster sauce for dinner. got up, and ate the following:

-half a loaf of italian bread
-a can of chilli tuna
-green tomatoes, pickled
-eggplants, pickled
-an entire mini tub of philadelphia

truth be told, after the first 5 mouthfuls i was totally satisfied. but in my stupid BJ (oh jesus christ, i was going to refer to Bridget Jones as that, now there's another meaning for my blow job acronym) mood i ate myself to the point where i'm now sitting in my bed thinking about vomiting onto my futon.

it's all my co-worker's fault. she told me a few days ago that she loves going to sleep on a full stomach, helps her sleep. must have been in the back of my mind when i decided to eat myself to death.

strangely - don't feel guilty about overeating anymore. ever since i started this vegetarian thing that has RUINED MY LIFE i'm hungry 24/7 and havne't put on any weight; if anything, people have been telling me non stop that i'm losing weight. humph. the first sentence of this paragraph sounds like i ever did feel guilty for over eating. pfft - no, but i think under normal meatarian circumstances i would have thought it, at the very least, insane to be eating like a maniac at this ungodly hour.

it's 2.09

i hate not eating meat.

wonder how long exactly it's been. going to work it out. i recall sending an abusive fb message to the person who sent me the vile link right after i'd watched it which was the same second i became vegetarian.

going to fb now...

29th July 2008. fucking prick, why would he send it to me?! agh!

and i think my wrists would be better if i was eating meat. do you have any idea how often one uses their wrists?! (my god this post is horrific)

-to brush their teeth
-to spray their deodorant
-to turn their car wheel. uh, sleepiness must be upon me, i meant to say steering wheel.
-to put on and unclip their bra
-and a few other things which, even in my over-stuffed-becoming-sleepy state, i know should not be mentioned on a thing as public as my blog

anyway - i can't DANCE! cos the guys are tools and it feels like they're attempting to break my hands off from my arms. i'm sure that's not the intention, but geez that's what it feels like. i even did a dance exercise class at the gym tonight, and i turned around, as per the routine, and the wind on my hands hurt my wrists. clearly, i have to go to the physio if the wind is hurting me.

ok, well i'm going to try to sleep. last comment is that my friends are turning me into Bridget Jones and i know i always say i'm right... but i really think i am, and i really think they are all reading too much into stuff. actually that's totally another post.

goodnight!

is there such a thing...

as being too considerate?

several years ago, my Nonna had a stroke early in the morning. Mum ran into my room while it was still dark, pulling on her coat, explaining in a flurry that her mum had haemorrhagged in her brain, giving me details of exactly where the blood clots were and what state she was currently in. She sped off with Dad.

For the first time in my life I reread over my uni lectures and notes. I knew I knew, but I just had to be more than sure. I sat on the green leather couch in the family room, by myself in silence while my brother and sister slept, and I resigned myself to the fact that Nonna was going to pass away within the next 48 hours.

I sat on the couch and waited until it got to 9am. I called work and told them I wouldn't be there for a fortnight. Before I began speaking, I specifically asked to speak to a certain supervisor that I knew would be level headed and matter of fact and not feel bad for what I was telling her.

I then called Liza, my best friend. I explained what had happened, I asked her to not contact me at all for the next three days, and also asked her to contact the rest of my friends and tell them about Nonna and for them to not send me condolences. I told her I would tell her when the rosary and funeral would be. I purposely kept the call short and I cut her off so as not to leave her hanging in the air in awkward silence with me, the lunatic who was prematurely grieving. I felt guilty for putting her in that situation.

I then called my closest uni friend and told her where the blood clots were and her symptoms. She was studying linguistics with me, and our current topic was the brain and stroke victims, and various results from clots in different areas. She knew, without me saying it, that she was going to pass away. I asked her to tell my close uni friends and not contact me. Again, I didn't give her much room to talk, and I got off the phone.

2 days later she passed away.

I called my friends and told them of the rosary date and time. I thanked them for not contacting me and asked them to continue to do so. I apologised to them, for what I'm not certain, and told them that they didn't have to say anything. I felt relieved that all my friends, who usually contacted me on a very regular, sometimes hourly, basis, would know that I wasn't ignoring them and that my phone was off for a reason. i loathed the idea that someone would think there was something else wrong. i found a tiny peace in knowing that they all knew what was going on with me, and that no one was wondering why i dropped off the face of the earth temporarily.

I remember lying in the spare bedroom at Nonna's house with my cousins, while visitors drifted in and out giving condolences, for hours upon end. All the adults sat in Nonna's lounge room, and us kids all lay in the bedroom, sometimes sleeping, sometimes awake, sometimes at a horrible inbetween moment of sleep and nightmares. we stayed there for days, talking, not to anyone in particular, just voicing the thoughts in our heads. at one point i remember all 7 of us laying on one another in some way, like when you play pick up sticks on carpet. i think perhaps we found comfort from touching one another, even if it was just a foot resting on another's foot. we would pass around one of Nonna's cardigans, inhaling it deeply and weeping silently, that smell of borro talco and nivea that i still sometimes wake up dreaming that i can smell that perfect combination.

i remember that my cousins, after the first day, began bitching fervently about their friends and work. they started, and couldn't stop, getting angry at stupid things that people around them were saying as their condolences. I recall listening, and giving my thoughts, but not having any examples to give of my own. their friends were sending them smses, and they were angry that they didn't have the balls to call. they were calling them, and they were pissed that they had the audacity to call when clearly this was family time. their friends sent them flowers - they were furious because the flowers were bright, not morose, and they clearly weren't thinking when they chose the bouquet.

i wasn't angry with my friends. they hadn't done a thing wrong because i hadn't given them the slightest chance to. the thought of them losing face with me was more important to me than losing control of myself; the thought of them accidentally saying the wrong words to me during that time was just so wrong to me and I did everything in my power to stop my friends from feeling at a loss of what to do or say.

i'm not sure where this post is going. i think it's been triggered by the way i react when someone tells me news that i regret how i've immediately reacted to it. honestly, as my mouth isn't attached to my brain, i wish that people around me would shield me from myself.

RIP Caterina Sabatino - I miss you ever so much, and I love you with all my heart. I hope I dream about you tonight Nonna. although, if you do go into anyone's dreams tonight, let them be Uncle Dom's, and in the dream tell him to put a bit more salt in his taralle so they taste more like yours when i dip them in wine! i love you i love you i love you xxx

my imperfections

-the fruit sticker issues

-i injure myself and i refuse to go to the doctor's cos i know he'll say to stop dancing. when i wrecked my achilles from salsa a year ago i had no choice but to go to the physio, who KILLED me (and, i might add, is also a total sleaze) and insisted i stay off my foot for 2 months. over the past 12 months i've continued to go back to him because i now tell him strait out 'Listen, i'm not going to stop dancing, in fact i'm going in 3 hours, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.' but i think i have a piece of bone floating around in my right foot and my right ankle is currently swollen for no real reason, but i won't go. even worse - he'll tell me that it's fluid and that i have to get it drained. so i just won't go.

-i laugh at inappropriate times. sometimes, to cut the tension, i will burst out laughing. it is HORRIBLE, and i have almost slapped myself accross the face when i do this. i also make light of issues when the other person is still nowhere near the point where they can joke or relax about whatever it is that they're opening up to me about. the thing that makes this just THE WORST is that i DO have a filter to stop doing this - cos i've never ever done that to my clients at work. so i CAN stop myself - but i don't.

-sometimes i get so caught up in my own stuff that i don't realise that people around me are upset. admittedly - not often - and perhaps it's just that normally i would pride myself on noticing that the couple of times that this has happened have made me think that it's a real problem. actually, that leads onto the next imperfection...

-i don't know what the hell to do with introverted people. i am so extroverted, more than anyone i know. i get angry at introverts. i don't understand them. i don't get why they won't open up. i don't see why they feel a need to hide things. i spoke about this with a fellow work colleague (another extreme extrovert) and i told her that you could ask me almost anything and i would answer. 'K... what colour knickers are you wearing?' without sparing a second i blurted 'greyish silver with pink embroidered flowers on them, the brazilian cut where the bottom of your butt cheeks show.' and then she said 'now, an extreme introvert would think that you're absolutely nucking futs...' i can understand how, logically, they must think of me, but i STILL don't get them. i am actually inclined to say that i can't be friends with them... that is disgusting of me.

-i become absolutely furious when people are upset with me and keep it in and then explode. i CANNOT handle it. then even if i am in the wrong, for whatever reason they're angry with me about, i will feel justified in going off my tree at them because they didn't tell me earlier. the BESTEST time was when my close friend, S., pulled me aside one day and told me she was beginning (beginning... so important) to get uspet with me cos i was taking a joke too far. i backed down, apologised, thanked her a million times over, and then hinted to my other mates that i would LOVE it if they did the same.

-i hardly ever finish anything. i get super duper excited about something, and i go around telling everyone about how great it is, and i start, and i'm totally into it and then BOOM! there's something else! and i run.

-as i'm getting older i'm realising that i can't handle people in my life who don't hold the same moral values as i do. i have actually cut two people totally out of my life in the past 12 months because, basically, i couldn't get along with them. this might not sound unusual - but i've always gotten along with everyone, and now i found there are some people i can't even put up with.

-i have confrontation issue as has been explored a bagillion times in these 2 blogs. that said - i still managed to be direct with those two people i don't like - that's how little patience i now have for people who don't share my values.

-i fight for the sake of fighting. i actually love and thrive on argueing, and i'm not willing to understand how some people don't want to fight back. again - i know i'm wrong - but i still don't get it.

-if i'm upset i usually hide it in front of strangers. with anyone i even slightly know i will pour my heart out and tell them every miniscule problem that's going on in my life (eg> right now) this is not a good thing.

-if someone doesn't notice that i'm upset, and jokes with me / pokes fun at me / slaps my butt or something as a joke I BURST INTO TEARS. and then, cos i'm so rarely down, they don't know what to do and are at a loss. and i can't stop crying. i have burst into tears at work before (not in front of clients) and at home and with friends and boyfriends. this is really the pot calling the kettle black cos when i know that someone is down i tease them in a bid to take them out of it. agh.

ok this post is upsetting me. below i've pasted my Myer Briggs personality type ENFP

Portrait of an ENFP - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving
(Extraverted Intuition with Introverted Feeling)

The Inspirer

As an ENFP, your primary mode of living is focused externally, where you take things in primarily via your intuition. Your secondary mode is internal, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit in with your personal value system.

ENFPs are warm, enthusiastic people, typically very bright and full of potential. They live in the world of possibilities, and can become very passionate and excited about things. Their enthusiasm lends them the ability to inspire and motivate others, more so than we see in other types. They can talk their way in or out of anything. They love life, seeing it as a special gift, and strive to make the most out of it.

ENFPs have an unusually broad range of skills and talents. They are good at most things which interest them. Project-oriented, they may go through several different careers during their lifetime. To onlookers, the ENFP may seem directionless and without purpose, but ENFPs are actually quite consistent, in that they have a strong sense of values which they live with throughout their lives. Everything that they do must be in line with their values. An ENFP needs to feel that they are living their lives as their true Self, walking in step with what they believe is right. They see meaning in everything, and are on a continuous quest to adapt their lives and values to achieve inner peace. They're constantly aware and somewhat fearful of losing touch with themselves. Since emotional excitement is usually an important part of the ENFP's life, and because they are focused on keeping "centered", the ENFP is usually an intense individual, with highly evolved values.

An ENFP needs to focus on following through with their projects. This can be a problem area for some of these individuals. Unlike other Extraverted types, ENFPs need time alone to center themselves, and make sure they are moving in a direction which is in sync with their values. ENFPs who remain centered will usually be quite successful at their endeavors. Others may fall into the habit of dropping a project when they become excited about a new possibility, and thus they never achieve the great accomplishments which they are capable of achieving.

Most ENFPs have great people skills. They are genuinely warm and interested in people, and place great importance on their inter-personal relationships. ENFPs almost always have a strong need to be liked. Sometimes, especially at a younger age, an ENFP will tend to be "gushy" and insincere, and generally "overdo" in an effort to win acceptance. However, once an ENFP has learned to balance their need to be true to themselves with their need for acceptance, they excel at bringing out the best in others, and are typically well-liked. They have an exceptional ability to intuitively understand a person after a very short period of time, and use their intuition and flexibility to relate to others on their own level.

Because ENFPs live in the world of exciting possibilities, the details of everyday life are seen as trivial drudgery. They place no importance on detailed, maintenance-type tasks, and will frequently remain oblivous to these types of concerns. When they do have to perform these tasks, they do not enjoy themselves. This is a challenging area of life for most ENFPs, and can be frustrating for ENFP's family members.
An ENFP who has "gone wrong" may be quite manipulative - and very good it. The gift of gab which they are blessed with makes it naturally easy for them to get what they want. Most ENFPs will not abuse their abilities, because that would not jive with their value systems.

ENFPs sometimes make serious errors in judgment. They have an amazing ability to intuitively perceive the truth about a person or situation, but when they apply judgment to their perception, they may jump to the wrong conclusions.

ENFPs who have not learned to follow through may have a difficult time remaining happy in marital relationships. Always seeing the possibilities of what could be, they may become bored with what actually is. The strong sense of values will keep many ENFPs dedicated to their relationships. However, ENFPs like a little excitement in their lives, and are best matched with individuals who are comfortable with change and new experiences.

Having an ENFP parent can be a fun-filled experience, but may be stressful at times for children with strong Sensing or Judging tendancies. Such children may see the ENFP parent as inconsistent and difficult to understand, as the children are pulled along in the whirlwind life of the ENFP. Sometimes the ENFP will want to be their child's best friend, and at other times they will play the parental authoritarian. But ENFPs are always consistent in their value systems, which they will impress on their children above all else, along with a basic joy of living.

ENFPs are basically happy people. They may become unhappy when they are confined to strict schedules or mundane tasks. Consequently, ENFPs work best in situations where they have a lot of flexibility, and where they can work with people and ideas. Many go into business for themselves. They have the ability to be quite productive with little supervision, as long as they are excited about what they're doing.

Because they are so alert and sensitive, constantly scanning their environments, ENFPs often suffer from muscle tension. They have a strong need to be independent, and resist being controlled or labelled. They need to maintain control over themselves, but they do not believe in controlling others. Their dislike of dependence and suppression extends to others as well as to themselves.

ENFPs are charming, ingenuous, risk-taking, sensitive, people-oriented individuals with capabilities ranging across a broad spectrum. They have many gifts which they will use to fulfill themselves and those near them, if they are able to remain centered and master the ability of following through.

perfection

i was at home waiting for my friend, A., to drop past. i got out of the shower, got dressed and went into the kitchen. i studied the fruit basket and decided on a Granny Smith apple.

i picked it up...

peeled off the sticker...

looked to see what my mum was doing (watching tv) and if dad was having a non computer moment (nope - booking flights for us on his laptop)

and stuck it on another apple in the fruit bowl.

i came into my room chomping on the apple to find an sms from my friend saying that i am 'perfection.'

uh-huh.

and it's not just that. there are rules to follow. i have a habit, i realised, of sticking orange stickers on other oranges, mandarine stickers on other mandarines etc etc. and only if it's the last in the bowl do i actually make the enormous effort of turning around and putting it in the bin. if that's not OCD, i don't know what is.

and if there's only a banana and an orange left in the bowl... well you can't go sticking an orange sticker on a banana. you have to throw it out.

the craziest part of it all is that i actually don't have OCD. i've seen many people with OCD, and there's not a shadow of a doubt that i don't have it. which means - i am just crazy, and far, far away from perfection. plus - if someone asked me to do something out of the routine i would do it - i just prefer doing it my way

and at the end of the week, when there's one lonely apply left in the fruit bowl, it's covered in a week's worth of stickers. and i'll be awoken by my brother standing over my bed shaking a sticker-covered apple at my face, yelling like a madman, 'THROW THEM IN THE BIN!'

microsoft publisher...ugh

once upon a time, before i was a youth worker, i did graphic design. i stopped only because i didn't have the drive any more (and because i couldn't handle pulling three all nighters in a row, getting glandular fever from being so run down and trying to think of concepts for stuff i hated). Basically, though, i didn't give it up because i was a crap designer; i just realised that I wasn't right to be in that field cos of everything else that goes hand in hand with it.

all i do now is tiny stuff on the side; invitations for 21st and other celebrations, advertising for my uncle's business etc. and it's great, cos now i love doing it as opposed to before when i was forced to do it.

so, i work with youth workers. and they have to advertise all the time with fliers, newsletters, posters etc.

and they use publisher.

and don't get me wrong - publisher isn't the issue. when i've been on other people's computer i've used publisher and made simple, yet effective, brochures and stuff. it's not the program; if they were using Adobe or Indesign or Quark the problem would still be there.

it's like they're blind. mish-mash of colours, no thought as to whether or not their colour design is going to end up being printed in black and white, no thought to legibility, fonts. These youthies; they're into Comic Sans and Curlz.

stop and think about that for a moment.

Comic Sans

Curlz.

so then! they see me walking past and they jump out of their chairs and yell 'Bee! Bee! you're into design can you have a look at this for me and tell me what you think' and they drag me over to their computers.

and i feel like i'm going to a funeral.

i look at the screen and i see illegible fonts. i see words that are meant to stand out so they've changed the font size for each letter. i see fucked up kerning cos of the size differences. i see widows everywhere. i see text justified wherever they see fit. i see everything in the centre of the page. i see hyphenations from one line to the next - not one, but several. i see... wait for it... clip art images. Or, worse still, images that they've taken from google image search and they've used without a thought to, well anything, and they've blown it up and it's all pixellated.

what can i say?

and! don't even get me started on the language used, or their mispellings, or grammatical errors.

so i end up saying something vague like 'oh... well, um, i'd probably maybe just fix up where that hyphenated word is... and that one... and that one...' and then i have to totally lie and say 'but other than that it looks fantastic! wow - it's great!' and they kind of frown when i say my one little problem too, as though they can't work out what's wrong with having 4 hyphenated words on one poster that only has 40 words on it.

i don't want to go back to graphics - but i really struggle with this.

unbalanced

if someone asks me something i tell them.

if the conversation is going towards something i have a thought on, i say it.

if someone asks for my opinion, well i'll crap on till the cows come home.

i've always been one for talking/crying/laughing/arguing through problems - never one to sit and stew. and for this reason, i think, people understand me pretty well. but too well perhaps.

everyone knows everything about me, like as in EVERYTHING. and the problem is not that i don't want people knowing everything, i obviously do cos the words are coming out of my mouth... but i can't help but become furious when others don't reciprocate. and i know i'm in the wrong - i'm fully aware that, and i hate that i get angry, but i do. when i found out that one of my friends was getting married and i found out about a week later i was astounded. Not that she hadn't told me - but that she could keep it in.

what am i looking for? friends who will shutup and listen to me 24/7 but somehow i also want them to tell me as much as i tell them - when would this opportunity come up with me talking all the time? i always get off 1 hour telephone calls and realise that i've spoken for 90% of them. that's just plain rude, but i can't stop.

i started writing this blog so i would talk LESS. i don't really tell any of my friends about this blog or the boys one (partly cos i bitch about some of them in it). so i end up writing on here and then seeing them and repeating most of my stories anyway.

ok - my best friend - she's a listener BUT when she has something important to say she'll scream over me 'Bee Bee Bee hang on shhhhh i gotta tell you first...' and that's awesome! i need to be told to shutup.

my workplace - we all fight for the spotlight and i love it. When my sister came into work with me recently she came to the conclusion 'Bee, everyone at your work is like you!' they're almost all extroverted and easily excitable to say the least.

i need people to talk over me. I need my friends to remind me to breathe during a story. i need my friends to put things into perspective for me. and i need friends to tell me to shutup and be forceful about it when they want to talk, because i'm 24 years old and i try really hard and i still talk over everyone.

my sister is exactly the same. there's no hope for her.

all that said and done i am fully capable of keeping secrets. all the stuff i blab about is my gossip, not even gossip about me and other people. so at least i have one filter of sorts.

vietnamese beauticians in Australia

I hate confrontation... so when I go into Hairhouse Warehouse and I see Greek / Italian / Maltese girls working there and then when i go in to get waxed and discover the waxist is Vietnamese I have heart palpitations. The European girls are too lazy and can't be bothered trying to sell me anything more... but the Viets take their job seriously. I can say no once, but if they keep at it i start to waver and I ALWAYS end up agreeing to whatever they're trying to sell me.

So i'm wandering around the plaza on my break and decide to get my lip done. (whatever, i'm Italian, try point out one Italian girl to me that doesn't have this done). I book at the front desk with a European girl. Great. I sit and wait. Awesome.

and then a tiny, beautiful Vietnamese girl (i say girl because she looked 16 but she was probably in her 30's) came out of the waxing room and beckoned me in with her 4 inch nails.

ONLY YOUR LIP! NOTHING ELSE! EVERYTHING ELSE WILL GO RED AND YOU HAVE TO GO BACK TO WORK! PLUS YOU'RE GROWING OUT YOUR EYEBROWS!

Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: Hi Honey, how are you today?
Me: Good thanks, how are you?
Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: I'm fine... so what am I doing for you today?
Me: uh, just my lip thanks.
Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: You don't want your eyebrows too honey? (she touches my eyebrows... in case i forgot where they were)
Me: uh, nah, just my lip is fine, thanks.
Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: (she starts doing my lip) ok honey, no problem, i'm just checking... you have lots of eyebrows (touching them again.)
Me: yeah, well, i'm italian. (i look up at her drawn on eyebrows)
Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: ah ok, that's nice... honey you sure you don't want me to fix it up for you? just the little hairs underneath your eyebrows?
Me: oh, nah, that's ok, thanks though. (stay strong dammit! you can't go back to work with red eyebrows... for some reason my lip never goes red though)
Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: ok honey... (i lie there in silence for a bit as she finishes up with my lip)... oh honey, i know... do you shave your eyebrows?
Me: WHAT?
Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: do you shave your eyebrows? (again she touches them)
Me: NO! why, do they look like they've been shaved?
Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: oh no no honey, just in my country some girls they shave their eyebrows instead of waxing to make them thicker... so honey do you want me to just fix up your eyebrows for you?
Me: (weakly) yeah ok, thank you.
Beautiful Vietnamese Girl: no problem honey, you can just pay the difference on the way out.

that was 6 months ago. my eyebrows have only totally recovered now. she waxed them so thin that i looked like an alien, i had to go back to work all red, she gave me a bloody complex thinking that i look like some hairy yeti with shaved eyebrows even though i actually get compliments on my eyebrows when they're not thin. i just can't go to Vietnamese beauticians anymore because i totally get sucked into their hard sell crap.

i wonder if they sit around before work and think of various ways to ask the same question in slightly different ways and ways to break us down and make us weak.

:P i love all my vietnamese friends!

i need closure!

firstly, refer to my last post if you haven't already.
oh and also read this.

now. when i went on the Personal Development thingy i had an older man in my group, and on the second night i had a feeling that he was interested in me. I had a conversation with him and i brought up our ages. after explicitly saying that i was 24 i asked him how old he was. I would never ever do that normally to someone older, but I really wanted to reiterate to him indirectly that there was a huge age difference. so i found out he was 42.

so on the second last night i saw him coming towards me with his mobile phone, looking quite nervous. dammit, he's going to ask me for my number.

Old Man: So, Bee, i was wondering... uhm... are you going dancing tonight?
Me: ah, no, my knee has been clicking for the past hour and i don't want to push it.
Old Man: oh, ok, because i was wondering, if maybe you wanted to possibly go out now, and just catch up for a drink, like we could go and have a coffee somewhere in the city... (really hopeful, puppy-dog expression on his face)
Me: (enter rambling bullshit cos i'm lying) ah, well, wow, i'd love to, but you see, uh, i just spoke to my little sister in the toilet (firstly i didn't speak to her, secondly, when i lie why do i say doubly stupid things like i was on the phone in the toilet?) and uhm she really wants to see me, cos you know she hasn't seen me all weekend and you know she's little, she's only 14 (blatantly lying again) so i already promised her that i'm going to go home and spend some time with her, cos i haven't seen her you know? (ramble-ramble-ramble)
Old Man: oh, oh, uhm, oh, well ok....

and then i did what i always did. I GOT SUCKED IN TO FEELING SORRY FOR HIM. and before my mouth could tell my brain what it was saying this came out of my mouth:

Me: but, uhm, did you want my number?
whaaaaaaaaaaaat on earth is wrong with me. he looked surprised, and then handed his phone over to me. I realised that he probably hadn't taken his phone out for my number at all. I typed in my number while repeating 'IDIOT' over and over again to myself silently.

i finished typing it in and looked up at him. he still looked really upset and he was looking at me as though he wanted to speak but was stopping himself. he went to speak a few times but nothing came out.

so again... i felt sorry for him, sympathy not empathy, and i said:

Me:well, tomorrow we start at 6, did you want to come past the city a little earlier tomorrw, say 5, and we can catch up for a coffee then?

this time he looked even more crestfallen.

Old Man: no, uhm, i can't, unfortunately 6.00 is the absolute earliest i could come... i'm at work, oh... uhm

as he 'ohed' and 'uhmed' with his worried expression i bit my tongue, as in a literally BIT MY TONGUE. i kept on feeling sorry for him and i was one step away from offering something even more ridiculous, like 'oh, look, would you like me to be the mother of your children?' just because i felt sorry for him.

so that was a perfect example of my movie.

BUT WAIT; THERE'S MORE!

i'm about to head out the door tonight, just running around grabbing shisha and coal to have at my friend's house, and a number called my mobile that wasn't saved in there.

Me:Hello?
Old Man:Hello Bee
Me:Who's this?
Old Man:It's Old Man
Me:(omgomgomg) Old Man! How are you? (fake enthusiasm, want to die on the spot)
Old Man:good good... are you going out dancing tonight?
Me:Me? no, no, tonight i'm just hanging out with my friends, quiet one. (stop rambling)
Old Man:Oh, because i wanted to know if you'd like to come to a greek cafe with me tonight and have a couple of drinks?
Me:ah, well Old Man, my friend is expecting me (mistake number 56 - it sounds like i would go had i not already made plans)
Old Man:Oh, so you wouldn't like to come to have a drink?
Me:(fuck! i struggle with confrontation withOUT people directly asking me) uhm well, no, she's been sick for a couple of weeks and i haven't seen her in a while (total lie and rambling)
Old Man:oh ok, well what are you doing tomorrow between 10 and 1?
Me:I'm going to my accountant (finally i said something that was true, and i was so excited by this that i subconsciously sabotaged it) and we made the appointment months ago and i can't change it (SHUT UP)
Old Man:oh, ok, it's just that i'm doing another personal development program and i thought you'd like to come as my guest
Me:(hell no) wow Old Man, that sounds really great, but i can't because of the tax man, my family would kill my because we have to do our taxes together (why the hell am i telling him this?)
Old Man:so you're not dancing tonight?
Me:Mope, night off.
Old Man:I borrowed a ballroom dancing book from the library. is that what type you do?
Me:(by this point i was hysterical and i freaked) when did you borrow the book? (for some reason i desperately wanted him to say 2 months ago, before he met me, and it was just a coinkidink that he then met someone who danced)
Old Man:uhm, oh... so do you do ballroom?
Me:No. when did you borrow the book?
Old Man:oh, uhm i cant remember.

after that point i think i was so frustrated that i managed to finish the conversation without agreeing to anything, without telling him where i go dancing, without making a coffee date etc. the whole call went for over 20 minutes so it was quite a lot of distress going on on my end.

anyway, i am now saving his number as DO NOT ANSWER OLD MAN.

i am a star... Happy-Go-Lucky

so the movie starts...
5 seconds of watching the main character and everyone has a smile on their lips...
10 seconds in and everyone is having a chuckle...
15 seconds and we all openly laugh...

20 second... I stop laughing, everyone else laughs harder...
25 seconds... I begin to frown slightly, the guy behind me slaps his knee with laughter, and my friend S. is sinking into her seat.

30 seconds... I turn to S. and whisper fiercely 'S.! this girl is like me! that's me!'

S. turns to me, still laughing, then sees the expression on my face and begins to laugh harder... 'Oh my god Bee, you're right, it's you!'

hilarious... not.

the experience of sitting down watching a fictional character do things that you, a real human being, would do, and getting it right with every second that passes was insane. I was distressed as i knew that there would be things in the movie i hated about myself, but at the same time it was interesting... like 'what would I do?' and tell the character in my head what to do before she did it. and getting it right.

it wasn't the obvious stuff, mind you, like the art or the kids or the being single, although that stuff was all on the ball too.

it was the getting sucked in. i am a sucker. i am an intelligent person... i was always a strait A student, i got my degree without dedicating more than 20 hours over the years for study, i have never had to read anything twice... for goodness' sake my IQ is enough to get into bloody mensa. and yet the rational part of me can never manage to override the emotional.

i am the person who starts random conversations with the bookstore owner.

i am the person who, if they don't engage with me, i try even harder, to the point of being even more of a dickhead.

i am the person who, if someone steals something of mine i think 'well, they must have stolen it for a reason, they obviously needed it much more than i did.'

i am most certainly the person who begins conversations with random homeless people, even when they have clearly had a stroke in Broca's area and the conversation goes nowhere.

and i am the person, who, even after i get completely screwed over, i try to fix the person who did the wrong thing by me because i feel sorry for them.

but what made me upset about this movie was the ending. the whole movie i kept on saying her answers to myself before she said them, and then at the very end she was confronted with a terrible situation, the kind i am always dealing with. when someone asks you something and you should say no but you feel sorry for them and say yes.

well, i whispered in my head to her 'yes!'.

and she thought and thought and thought about her answer... and said, 'umm, no.'

and that was the end of the film. and it was closure for her because she has managed to work out when to say no and be firm. and now i'm freaking out because i've realised that i clearly still don't know how on earth to say no. i can't even tell the fictional Bee to say no.

i have to work out a way to be able to say no and feel no guilt.

personal development course

i used to be SOOO skeptical about these things, like 'The Secret' and stuff like that... but then I actually watched The Secret, and it really wasn't that bad. It's not going to give you everything you've ever dreamt of on a silver platter, but it certainly won't make your life worse. For the average, intelligent person it will motivate them, and I do admit that motivation is usually enough to make an initial step towards change.

anywayz! My friend, D. from dancing, went on a 2 and a half day intensive seminar and referred me to it. When the lady called me at work my clients were shitting me up the wall, I'd just found out two had attempted suicide, the day before the guy who worked in the next office to mine was arrested for possession of child pornography (for those of you who don't remember... I work with kids)... basically i needed all the motivation i could get my hands on, so i jumped.

So i'm here, end of day one, blogging. and it's pretty much what i expected... except for one teensy little bit. The seminar is like when you go on camp and you do all those motivational and strength building games, fun stuff really. Some of the activities were quite challenging, some downright frustrating; but that's me saying those things...

Enter exhibit A:

what happens when you do one of these courses and you are so depressed, so incredibly low and the state of your mental health makes me feel inclined to check your wrists and call the CAT team!?

there were two women (out of maybe 100 or so) who clearly would not not be benefiting from the seminar because they were so far gone. One lady cried the entire day... and when she did manage to pause she would only have to make eye contact with anyone and she would burst into tears again. She couldn't interact, talk, get her own food, contribute... nothing.

The second became extremely distressed at the amount of noise that was being made in one of the activities (quite loud i must admit) and began having a panic attack in front of everyone. The facilitator then wouldn't let her go until she admitted to the rest of us that maybe she felt fine (what the fuck i hear you ask? that's honestly what happened)

I'm still trying to work out why, when we first turned up this morning they got us to sign forms stating whether or not we were suffereing or had ever suffered from a mental illness... what were they planning to do with that information? I'm not pro medication, however i do know that sitting around talking about motivation can't always work if your world is truly upsidedown. Much less if you have a chemical imbalance that won't allow you to see it any other way.

The seminar has been great, don't get me wrong, but it has to be said that it is totally unsuitable for anyone who is sufferering from a mental illness... so that cuts out around a third of the population (no citation for that... it's my average... if you look up the percentages the studies always do ridiculous things like discluding anxiety attacks and including snake phobias)

and if you want them... or just a read...

lifeline
beyondblue
orygen youth health
cat team
and my current favourite Headspace

scrubber

scrubber: hmm - well that's not right at all. I was going to write the urbandictionary.com definition for scrubber here to describe how i've been dressing at work lately, but it is most certainly not the case that I am a woman who 'throws herself at any man's crotch while wearing revealing clothing'.

i'll write my own...

scrubber: someone who wears unladylike clothing ie; trackpants, stay at home jumpers and runners. Unflattering. Goes into work without a second thought to dirty hair. Tries to pass it off as being appropriate youth worker attire (ok this is no longer a general definition)

I have gone from corporate to (my version of a) scrubber in 6 months. People used to compliment me on what I wore all the time, and now they compliment me only... actually they don't at all anymore!

my mum is so angry - she is getting into fights with me every day because of the way I've been dressing for work. My hair, my chipped nail polish, my addiction to runners, my addiction to comfy-stay-at-home-and-watch-dr-phil jumpers.

I told my co-workers, J. and S., and we've decided to make mondays, tuesdays and wednesday 'no runners' days. If i can't wear runners, i can't wear trackpants, and if i can't wear trackies it means i'll be looking a little better. it's a start anyway.

J. and I were in favour of a 'runner-in-lieu' option... if on a thursday or friday we had to go to a meeting and wear heels we could then transfer our runner day to another monday, tuesday or wednesday, but S. put her foot down and stopped us with our organised planning.

so as of next week... we'll see if i go back to getting compliments

:)

(hope so... otherwise it just means that not only have i become a scrubber, but i've also become fugly!)

call that exercise? PFFT!

what a joke and a half. i joined a gym near work a few months ago with my co-worker and it included a 'kick start' program which included 3 free half hour personal training sessions. i hadn't gotten around to using them cos I'd been having a little bit of vertigo and i didn't want to do an intense session while dizzy. what a joke... i could have done it while in labour (easy to say that now.)

the trainer has been calling me trying to book me in to see him for the first session and we've been playing phone tag for ages. i finally spoke to him and agreed to 6pm tonight. at 4.30 this afternoon i forgot if it was 6 or 6.30 so i called him, and he got off the phone with me with the parting comment of 'bring your towel, cos WOW i'm a hard asse!'

i actually started to stress a little as i was leaving work... what if he pushed me so hard and I couldn't go dancing tonight? worse still, what if i was so injured and I couldn't go to Ormond Hall on saturday night!?

ok, gripe numero uno: he talked waaaay too much. i LOVE talking, but i do it for free. no one pays me to talk. ok, i know he was free but i believe that I pay enough with the gym membership to expect that he will SHUT UP. and he's male so it wasn't like he could do two things at once; if he was training me and talking i would think it was alright, but not only did he stop but he insisted on stopping me so i could listen to his crap stories.

secondly - he kept on going on and on about how he was a 'bad asse' and a 'hard asse' on the people he trains... i began my training at 6pm and am writing this now (on my lovely mac) at 2am WEARING THE SAME CLOTHES because i didn't break out in even the tiniest sweat. i was so comfortable with how i smelt (i didn't, basically) that i even went dancing in these clothes.

and C - he just kept on saying stupid shit. like he had to reach up high to fix a part on the equipment, and he put down his clipboard, pulled down his tshirt, tucked his tshirt into his elasticised pants, pulled his jumper down over his waist, then turned to me to explain 'sorry, i'm really paranoid about people seeing my undies.' WHO SAYS THAT!?

and finally he just thought he was way tougher than what he was... he stopped me in the middle of one of my reps and said out of nowhere 'wow, you know... woah, gee, i coach under fourteens boys in soccar... and gee! do i feel sorry for them... you should see what i make them do!' and i asked what. and he literally said the following, word for word:
'well... wow... i just make them do heaps, like i am such a hard asse on them, you have no idea... like, for example, they are meant to do, like, 15 push ups, and, cos i'm such a hard asse, i make them do, like... 20! and i say to them, i say nine... eight... seven...six... five... five... five.... five.... five... five... four... you know, like i put in an extra 5 when i'm saying 5 and i push them all the way to 20.'

when i used to do boxing and three different venues three times a week i did probably around 4 to 5 thousand push ups and sit ups.

oh yeah! and lucky last - when he was making another appointment with me in the office his boss came in to ask him a question, and he turned to her and said 'so, like, when am i getting my glamour shots done?' she rolled her eyes and walked out. he turned to me, and in fonzie style said sleazily to me, 'you know... i'm a model.' i didn't know what to say, so i quietly asked, 'really?'. he threw his head back, slapped his knee and laughed, yelling 'i can't believe you believed that! nah they're just taking my picture to put on the wall with all the personal trainers. they're dressing me as superman and suspending me from the ceiling and making it look like i can fly and they're taking a photo.'

again, i was dumbfounded... 'really?'

again, he pissed himself laughing, but this time he cried 'i can't believe i just ripped you again.'

i am a DICKHEAD MAGNET.

inappropriate conversations topics

i've worked with kids for so long and the best part of the job has always been the day after, with other workers, teachers, my cousins. when we all sit around and share our hilarious stories of what the kids did and how hard we had to stop ourselves from laughing.

but now, with the kind of kids i'm working with... it's no longer cute. D. was telling us a story how one of her grade ones wrote 'i rub my dik' instead of 'i ride my bike' because he mixed up the direction of the b's and d's and stuffed his vowels up.

Her sister B. then told a story about a kid who responds with yelling 'HELP!" no matter what she says to him... as in that's the only word she's ever heard him say.

hahahaha!... they looked at me expectantly for a story.

'oh, uhm, what happened today... well i'm kind of lying in my case notes at the moment because two of my girls have found full time employment at a massage parlour with happy endings and i don't really want that to be connected with me... ' i laughed weakly. they just sort of looked at me then busily stirred their tea.

nope, not the same!

addicted to eggplant

i can't remember exactly how we began talking about this during lunch the other day, but mum asked me what would be the last meal i would request if I were on death row. I was shocked into silence, as you too would be if your mum asked you such a random question. but i couldn't think which food i really like enough to make it to my death row meal.

mum's last meal, which i knew, is Rum Babas from Cavolaro in Footscray. Not only would she have as many rum babas as she could eat on death row, she has also told us repeatedly that when she's dying and it no longer matters if she puts on weight, or the sugar sends her into sugar shock, she wants us to allow her to live her last few days eating just rum babas. writing this out now makes me realise how ridiculous these conversations are. she even refers to it as 'Death by Rum Babas.'

Today, while eating about half a litre of eggplant dip manically, i worked out what my death row meal would be. I am absolutely crazy for eggplant. i love eggplant parmigiana with rich tomato sauce and crusty italian bread, i love marinated eggplant from the deli, even when it has garlic in it. my ex got me hooked on some arabic eggplant dip in a can which tastes like smokiness.

but home made marinated eggplant! my nonna used to make tiny thin slivers of eggplant in oil, and i would eat them until my tongue felt fat in my mouth. as i've gotten older, it's come to the point where i actually think i'm allergic to eggplants, but i keep eating them. Especially marinated eggplants, at easter last weekend i ate so much of my cousin's nonna's chilli hot eggplants that my gums swelled, turned bright red, my tongue became huge in my mouth and i was scratching my lips with my nails... and i kept eating eggplant.

humph.

i just asked my brother what his death row meal would be and he replied 'dunno... don't really think i'd be in the mood.'

you can't be friends with the opposite sex

i feel sick to my stomach. i feel like i've done something wrong, very wrong, and i've done absolutely NOTHING.

in a nutshell, i have been associating with someone of the opposite sex. and associating isn't a metaphor for something else, i have literally just been talking and not just that, it's been strictly work related.

oh what a mess i've made.

this guy, let's call him 4, knows a lot about the job i'm going into. I will sort of be working with him when i begin, but not in the same building. since he knows everything, i thought it would make sense for me to ask him about the job and the ins and outs. (no pun intended)

4 is great... but 4 reminds me of someone else, not an ex boyfriend, not my brother (eww), but instead he reminds me of myself. I look at him and think he would get along fantastically with my friends and he makes me cry with laughter. i've said a gazillion times before to 4 and people we work with; '4 is a female version of me'

now i think he likes me. well, not so much think, i'm quite certain. he just invited me, which is what has sparked this post, to his best friend's birthday. it just made me think of when A and i had been together for a while and he announced to me that he had decided that he was ready to 'present' me to his friends at his christmas parties and birthdays. hehe, i still can't think of him saying that without giggling, i love when people whose second language is english speak so properly.

i could be reading waaaaay too much into it. but i don't think i am, i think i'm correct.

what i will miss (or not miss) from the youth centre...

things i have done over my period of time at the youth centre:

-asked young people when they last had sex while giving them condom after condom knowing they won't use them
-held a young person's tooth in my bare hand while blood gushed from her lip onto my arm (yes, i tested myself, all good)
-witnessed young people ram their heads against brick walls in anger
-listened to parents who have no one else to talk to speak of their children for forever on end
-given insulin injections
-been vomited on by a newborn (it was a good excuse to go to myers and buy another tshirt)
-been the mediator of so much teeny bopper gossip on youth programs
-been hit with footballs, tennis balls, yo ho diabolos, foam missiles etc
-been covered at one time or another in pva glue, glitter, sequins, staples etc
-been the object of lust for some twenty something boys (as in, they lusted after me, not the other way around)
-had my desk lost amongst the most enormous pile of art supplies i could ever imagine... had to take off my shoes and literally jump over boxes to get out.
-some other horrible stuff that is coming to mind that i shouldn't write on my blog


my achievements:
-broke the photocopier at least 5 times (i think 4 of those times were within one fortnight)
-tried to fix the photocopier once with my boss and a screw driver set only to REALLY break it
-drank at least two thousand of the two thousand one hundred and sixty litres of water we've ordered over the last 2 years
-got paid to work out how much water i've drank on the calculator haha
-been the instigator of fake gossip when i've been bored
-been the passer on of quite a bit of real gossip
-been a large part of the cause for getting facebook blocked
-lied to my boss / her boss / unit leader / manager / mayor at some time or another to cover for someone else

first for everything...

i went christmas shopping (well, not really, my sister C. went shopping and I, the chauffeur, dragged my feet along behind her) at highpoint last weekend. And i witnessed something I'd never seen before.

I saw two guys walking hand in hand, laughing, then one turned to the other and gave him a quick peck on the lips. They smilled at each other, and kept on walking.

I am very anti homophobia. I have quit a job before because there was a moron who i had to work closely with that used to bash homosexuals and once pushed a couple of guys into the yarra because they kissed in front of him and his son. he thought his son might get ideas. he told me with no remorse that if his son was gay he would never speak to him again, and also get divorced because he knew his wife would continue to talk to their son.

I am disgusted that this is the first time i have seen a same sex couple kiss. There are so many teeny boppers nearly having sex with one another on level one at highpoint, and that's ok because they're hetrosexual? so 10% of the world need to stay silent and to themselves? what crap...

movember

tiger balm madness

oh god.

i just bought 8 new pairs of contact lenses; 2 violet, 2 light brown, 2 grey, 1 green, 1 blue. I have been wearing the violet ones for the past week with no problems. i wore an orangey-red dress on the weekend and decided it would go well with green eyes... so out came a new pack of contacts.

i tried to put them in my eyes and they stung like crazy, i could only get one in and i couldn't stop crying and my nose turned into a tap and i took it out and that was the end of that.

the next day exactly the same thing happened. i rinsed and re rinsed the contacts. still turned me into a bright red mess so i gave up.

third time lucky today... not. not even 1 second after i put the contact in my eye all the white turned bright pink. i took it out and dialled my optometrist furiously with water pouring out of my pink eye and bright red nostril.

'... i have rinsed them... several times, it's been 3 days of rinsing and rerinsing... no it's not because i'm not used to them, it feels like my eyeball is on fire, it feels like -'

OH MY GOD

'...deep heat...'

i nearly said tiger balm. it clicked suddenly that the contact lens problem coincided with me buying a new jar of tiger balm which i have been applying liberally every minute of the day to every dance injury area of my body.

'... not a problem Miss Bee, please keep your contact lenses and we will replace them free of charge, you obviously received a dodgey pair.'

i feel like crap. i'm now waiting for karma to come and bite me for being a stupid idiot.

come on karma.

linguistics is the root of my problem...

i was breath tested on the way to dancing last night even though it was early, probably Melbourne Cup related. i wound down my window and there were two police officers chatting away and slowly coming up to me.

now i'm not sure if i found this difficult to deal with because i have my degree in english and linguistics, but hmmm....

the police officer was talking to his friend in a monotonous voice 'yeah-i-know-what-you're-saying-and-please-take-one-continous-breath-until-i-say-agree-with-you-stop-completely-about-it-joe-when-the-breathaliser-beeps-twice-it-will-indicate-to-me-that-you-are-right-to-go.'

well firstly when he said stop i thought he was talking to the other cop so i kept blowing and turning red cos i was running out of breath then he just sort of pulled it out of my mouth. and had no idea that he even told me that i was right to go.

i was so tempted to say 'listen to my pauses... pay attention to my intonation... TAKE IT ON BOARD!'

i am a loser

so i went to the spot and was dancing with my friend S. and i was looking around to check out who i knew cos it was latin night. S. even said to me 'stop looking around, you'll attract guys'. should have listened to her...

so i kept on looking around and suddenly A. was standing behind S. and looking at me. well for some unknown reason i freaked. i looked at him, did not hide my shocked expression AT ALL, looked down and stood still while contemplating my next move (i am such an idiot)

this is what was going through my head ...




nothing. well apart from 'think of what to do!' repeating, there were actually no thoughts of what to do. after a few seconds i decided the best thing would be to smile, but i should have planned it a bit more carefully cos i looked up and gave him this manic just-got-out-of-the-psych-ward smile and then looked away. then i was even more upset with myself than before. i decided to give up so i said to S. 'hey, A. i here.' 'do you want to leave?' 'i want to go out for a smoke'

so we started walking to the exit and we stood in the entrance and i started explaining to her my scary smile etc then i stopped abruptly because he was standing behind her AGAIN. He asked if it was ok to come out for a smoke with us.

the conversation that ensued was the most ridiculously stilted convo i've ever had in my life, the whole time i was unable to comprehend A.'s questions because i was yelling at myself in my head 'BE NORMAL YOU MORON!'

Ugh, i am a loser. I don't understand why i reacted that way. i so have to leave the country to get away from my idiocy.

why italians are not our choice

after the arranged marriage proposal my parents put forward to me, i saw my cousin who had actually asked her parents to find her a boy. upon my parents telling her that he was italian, she scrunched up her nose and said 'oh no, i'm not marrying an italian.'

'why not!?' all our parents cried in unison.

'for three reasons. one, he'll cheat on me. all italians our age think it's the normal thing to do. all italian guys have a girlfriend and a mistress. i don't want that. two, they all speak like morons. i don't want to be correcting my husband every day for the rest of my life because he says 'wif' instead of 'with'. they're all born in australia anyway, so they just like to sound stupid. and last (i pissed myself laughing when i heard this) i'm very family oriented, and i need to find a husband with no family, because i'm not giving up on seeing my family at all, and that way if he has no family we can both just go to my stuff. no italian boy has no family. so i don't know who i can marry.'

i don't know either!

arranged marriages... again

i have been watching my parent's reaction to A. and me breaking up. they've changed their game plan every week. so far this is what has unfurled:

week 1- absolute complete and total silence. they didn't ask me to clean my room, wash dishes, do a few loads in the laundry, nothing at all. it wasn't even like i couldn't have done those things, they were literally running around in circles doing everything before i got a chance to.

week 2- pretty much the same as week 1 but i just began to ignore them and did the normal cleaning i do at home. i don't really get how not making me clean was going to make me feel better, anyway.

week 3- dad booked me in for a whole day of weeding the garden. i'm serious. after around 4 hours of weeding he came up and informed me that 'weeding is very therapuetic you know.' aha, so now they're making their own therapies for me. it didn't matter though, i spent the whole time thinking about how much A. would have loved to be weeding the garden, in some old clothes and getting all dirty in the sunshine with our duck walking around.

week 3 1/2- mum and dad come home to find me drinking a beer with dinner. ONE BEER. i haven't had any sort of alcohol in i don't even know how long, cos i'm always dancing or working with kids. mum and dad began to question me about the boys i was going to the snow with, along with the comment 'you always drink when you're down.' insane. i drink around 8 standard drink per annum. spent the weekend away thinking how much A. would have loved snowboarding, not drinking and sleeping with guys who until very recently i thought were gay.

week 4- my family... lunch time... eating happily... suddenly dad explains that he's found me a husband, he's known him for a long time, and it's ok because he knows the family too and they're ok. mum turns to him and exclaims 'don't say that to Bee... (i'm thinking whew, he's only joking)... because now she's going to get stressed out when he comes to dinner.' what the hell... instant visions of my big fat greek wedding and disgusting men coming to the house. left the table before i could hear any more, so i'm not really certain if it's true or they were just joking. well, actually i left the table right after yelling that i will never marry an italian man because all italians are sleaze buckets and cheat on their wives. my parents think this is ridiculous because they have never cheated on one another. they're like the only ones.

anyway... bit scared as to what week 5 will bring... i'm trying to go out dancing as much as possible so therefore i won't be able to make the dinners with cheating italian men.

the pic above is the kind of northern italian guy our parents are expecting us to marry. the pic below shows what we are picturing...

i love australia

update for those of you who don't already know this. Kevin Rudd is a big politician running for prime minister very soon in Australia. Opposition attempted a smear campaign by releasing details that basically said that 4 years ago, while on business in america, he went to the strippers.

the reaction has been hilarious. not only has he gone UP in popularity and on the official polls, but this last ordeal has now convinced the australian public that we can now count on him to become our new prime minister and is being referred to as that.

his reaction: 'well, they're not really my thing, but i went, and the next day i called my wife, she called me a goose, we both got over it. i've been a couple of other times too, when i was in uni. not my scene.' i guess the reason everyone is loving this explanation so much is it's just so truthful. i love that australians can see past it and be realistic that everyone makes mistakes.

anyway... i've been once to the strippers by accident. i went to a club in the city with my good friend C., and after a few dances we decided to go upstairs, thinking it was just another room in the club. we were both tired as it was a friday night, and it wasn't until we had walked into the room, taken off our coats, bought drinks and sat down that we noticed that the girls around us were wearing very little. And we were the only girls in the place, apart from the naked ones. Promptly a stripper came out on stage in a bubble bath. Yes, we had managed to walk into a strip club without even knowing it. we stayed for about 20 minutes, analysing the girls' perfect skin and smooth cellulite-free legs then left.

look at moiye kimmy

oh

my

god.

i nearly stuffed up soooo badly on friday. i wish i could replay the scene and do what i wanted to do and see how it would have turned out.

i was shopping in a 2 dollar shop for some wrapping paper for a present while i was on my lunch break. i was browsing through the aisle when i noticed two women next to me saying the following.

'i like what she's done with her living room / her living room? / yeah haven't you seen it? / oh yeah i have, it's nice / yeah it's nice / and it's unusual / yeah it's unusual / it's nice and it's unusual'

now repeat that all in kath and kim's voice, COS THAT'S HOW THEY WERE SAYING IT!!! i turned to them with a smile on my face, about to laugh and say 'i love kath and kim too' when i realised THAT WAS REALLY THE WAY THEY SPOKE! they weren't putting it on. i grabbed some horrible orange paper and ran to the next aisle, listening to them continue

'and did you see her vase? / oh her vase! / her vase, it's nice / yeah, it's unusual but it's nice (noiyce) / it goes in her living room / her living room is nice' etc.

imagine the looks on their faces if i hadn't realised!

note - if you've never watched kath and kim you can hear their unusual way of speaking here.

eyebrows

again, i was forced to go out because 'now that you and A. have broken up, you need to get out!' this was even enforced by my parents, shockingly. that's because they don't know how disgusting meatmarkets aka clubs are.

so i was at work all day friday complaining that i didn't want to go out, and i just wanted to stay at home and read. when i got home, before jumping in the shower, i inspected my eyebrows and realised they were in depserate need of waxing. out comes the wax pot, into the microwave.

25 seconds i don't want to go

20 seconds i like my cousin, D. (who was taking me out), but her friends...

15 seconds her friend L. shits me up the wall

10 seconds ugh, if L. comes tonight

5 seconds i'll scream

i did my eyebrows while thinking about D.'s friend L., who is the most socially retarded person i know. i smeared a little bit of wax under the arch of my left eyebrow as i remembered the time when L. nearly ran up the back of my car because she is such a ditz. when i placed the cotton over the wax i must have been really frustrated and pressing way too hard, because when i ripped it off i looked in the mirror...

'What the fuck?' i said to my reflection. i looked down at the cotton in my hand and there was half my eyebrow in the wax. thinking about L. made me press and smear the wax onto the rest of my eyebrow and i proceeded to wax it off. it was a great start to the night!

losing nearly an hour of my life

this guy from my work, B., had been bugging me for a week or so to attend one of these seminars. he was vague about it, but i didn't even bother asking him questions about it because up until last night i had always thought that he and i were very alike... very obviously not the case, or he's been brainwashed, one of the two.

so i agree to stay after work last night, along with my other sucker of a co-worker, S. just before we went into this 'meeting' one of our workers said 'uh, guys, you know what it is yeah? you're going into one of those join-and-make-money-or-die thingys'

shit.

pyramid whatever it's called. you know, those networking business ventures whereby you join and then if you manage to force another 50million people to also join you then make around thirty cents? man, did i get sucked in or what.

so S. and i went in to see this tiny geeky looking man in a crumpled suit, and he was already sweating profusely. he began his spiel, basically calling us losers because we make 'active income' (we go to work for our money) as opposed to making 'passive money' (sitting at home doing nothing while the money just floats on in)

sweaty man: so, S. B. Tell me. what do you both, personally, need in life to be successful?

i immediately thought 'happiness' but then thought 'nah, corny answer, let S. answer first'.

S.: happiness
B.: yeah me too, just happiness

WRONG ANSWER TO GIVE THE SWEATY MONEY HUNGRY MAN! his temple started visibly throbbing.

sweaty man: (he sounded like he was choking when he spoke) well, of course, and in order to acheive HAPPINESS you need MONEY!!! from a PASSIVE INCOME!!!

S. and I were looking at eachother like 'uh, wdf, no you don't...'

S. and i tried to explain that we liked working and we both actually dislike staying at home. sweaty man's eyes boggled at this, his face turning purple from complete and total non-comprehension.

sweaty man: so, what do you think, will you join in this fantastic entrepenuer voyage to money making bliss?

all i wanted to do was book this guy in for intense sessions with the counsellors at work.

needless to say we didn't join.

coneheads

two thing to know about me:

1- i am a complete and total doofus.
2- i rarely take tablets. i will take vitamins no problem, but if i have a headache i won't even take a panadol, i'll just go home, lie down, and drink water. the only time i've taken medication is when i feel REALLY bad, like when i didn't sleep for 3 nights or i was in emergency.

ok, i went past my best friend's, L.'s, dance studio to pick up my sister from classes. i saw S., the girl who now has my old job at reception there, and told her i wanted to buy one of their new jumpers to wear to work with the kids. They're baggy hoodies.

S: uh, Bee, we've only got adult's extra extra large or kid's sizes.
B: i'll try the adult's... (way too big... took it off...) uh, can i try on the biggest kid's size?
S: yeeeaaaaah... but they're really small...
B: it'll be ok. here, pass it over.
S: okaaaaay
I put it on fine. it was just a bit tight under the arms.
B: nah, too tight, i'll wait till you guys get another load in... S.! I'm stuck! S.! i'm really frekin stuck!

i had my torso out but my giant head was stuck, and i mean STUCK, in the hoodie neckhole. i could hear S. pissing herself laughing, as well as my sister and the rest of her dance group. So S. grabbed the end of the jumper and started pulling with all her might... i mean, whatever, who cares if my ears come off in the process!? i was screaming in pain and fear cos i could tell that it was getting very close to the point where S. was going to have to cut it off, and i was afraid that if she came near me with scissors laughing this much i might lose an eye. i was picturing myself with no ears like the weasley twin and one eye like mad eye, but no cool one to replace it. finally S. worked out that by sticking her thick nails between my face and the hoodie (much pain!) she could slowly edge it off.

S: Bee, you're such a crack up, every time you come here you provide me with entertainment!
B: yeah...thanks... (trying to squash my head back to normal size)

i got home and my ears are so red and i feel so like a conehead i took 2 panadols.

see?
i am a doofus.