If one of my five year old students howls their lungs out while curled in the foetal position because their shoelaces are tied together, have a mosquito bite or they have jam in their sandwich instead of Vegemite, their cries are met with a chorus of “Ricky Resilience, not Cathy Crumble!”

Their peers advise that they adopt ‘Green Light Thinking’, a term that our school system uses to encourage positive thinking. Most of the time the Green Light Thinking words, although sometimes the only thing that can make a kid smile during this type of dilemma is a big sparkly sticker of a ladybird.

I like to think that I’m positive. I’m smiley. I see the bright side. I still hang on to the dire hope that Hamish Blake marry me.

Despite this, for no apparent reason, I sometimes tend to go a bit five year old foetal position tantrum myself. (Normally in the privacy of my own home, not in a classroom, you’ll be glad to know).

What’s my Green Light Thinking?

I’m thankful that it wasn’t my two year old who I witnessed licking the floor at ‘Bed, Bath & Table’ this afternoon.

I’m wrapped that on Friday I got given a free ticket to the Britney concert. I’m doubly wrapped that I shared the experience with one of the most amazing people I know, who chuckled with me about poor old Brit’s woeful lip synching attempts and danced her little hips off with me when ‘Hit Me Baby, One More Time’ was performed.

I have a secret giggle remembering how one of my friends told a lady that while her baby was cute, he preferred his iPhone. He has a point, you can’t hold a baby up to the radio to tell you which song is playing.

The knowledge that one of my colleagues didn’t know what fruit cheese was. I had to explain that it was just cheese with fruit in it.

I think about planes and how I will be on one in 2 months.

The fact that mangoes, cherries, houses decorated in Christmas lights, children wearing elf hats and 30*C days are currently in abundance.

Two words: Taylor Lautner.

The thought of freshly laundered sheets, late night DVDs and no alarm clock.

Knowing that there are so many people I know who put the happiness of other people (and the introduction of quality literature to children) above everything else.

What’s your Green Light thinking?

On paper, I’m not a risk taker.

On paper, I’m the girl who lived in the rural town for 20 years, who spent her childhood building  treehouses, leaning against the warm expanse of a old gelding’s round stomach, laying on  pinewood floors reading piles of library books.

On paper, I’m the teenager who went to the same school as all the other girls. Who did the homework, who showed up, who laughed at the same in jokes as you.

On paper, I graduated from high school. I went to uni, made friends with people who would change my life. I partied. I danced. I kissed the right boys (most of the time). I did what I was supposed to. What was expected of me. And I liked it.

On paper, I’m about to do something that so many others have done. I am travelling a path well travelled by others. On paper, my impending adventure  may seem generic. But to me, everything I have ever done has been leading to this. It explains the hot cold rush I feel whenever I gaze at a plane in the morning sky. It’s the edge of the unknown.

It feels like a risk. But not doing it feels like a bigger one.

It’s less than 3 months to go until I take the step off the diving board, take the leap and become insanely unique by doing the same thing as all those before me. I am heading overseas to work and play and I can hardly wait.

While sifting my way through piles dictionaries and conjugating Italian verbs for four years, the thought of devouring gelati in Rome, instead of on Lygon Street kept me going. I would sit on the train on the way home from lectures listening to my ‘Travel’ playlist on my ipod and envy every Facebook album of friends on foreign beaches that popped up when I logged in, reminding me of all the things I wasn’t doing.

So in 2 months and 28 days, I will be setting off, through Hong Kong, Western Europe, to the U.S. with a sprinkle of Canada … with less clothes in my bag than I would normally wear in a week, without the homely comforts of Mint Slices, the Sunday Herald Sun magazine and ‘Packed to the Rafters’ showing up on my TV every Tuesday. Without the physical presence of the people who rotate my world, but with the knowledge that they are always a phone call away. But secure with the knowledge that not risking it would be the biggest risk of all.

Any advice? Any recommendations? I need your help, you gorgeous people…

(Really happy about going here again…)       

It can set you up to bring you down. It  can become a way of thinking. To protect yourself, you can choose to guard yourself with sarcasm, with humour, with self depreciation that veers away from the rawness. Lock the gate so no one comes in and no one gets hurt. Remember the negative to prevent the opening up of old wounds, but in the process block out the positive and opportunity to fix yourself up with a soothing balm.

You have the choice though. In the same way you almost choose to be enchanted by the secret smiles, the rush of complements, the sound of a text message ringing in your ears with the treacly words from the mouth of a new adventure. In the same method that you can let liking a boy wash over you like a wave and be excited about meeting someone who seems excited about meeting you.

You can throw down the walls around you and let the new one in. Because you might possibly get hurt again or you might just get healed and let your awesomeness shine through.

Unlike many other ladies out there today, I made it. You did not see Little Miss Me scampering down the pavement in bare feet at Flinders Street station, heels in hand. I kept me curls in place and my shoes on my feet. Lipgloss intact, fascinator feathers unfrayed, sun-screened and unburnt. Advantage me.

Today was one of my favourite days of the year (apart from Christmas and Easter… and I mainly love them because they give me a justification for eating chocolate for breakfast…)

I pity you guys on the other side of the sea, who have no idea about the glory of Fashions on the Field. Being upstanding so that we can sing only one verse of ‘Advance Australia Fair’- purely because no one is quite sure what’s going on in the second verse (although I secretly think it’s superior to the first verse). The legend of trashbags limping home- a little boozed and with heels in hand.

Melbourne Cup Day. I love this day because no one else in the world cares about it. I adore the whole notion that the city closes down for a horse race, although most girls spend the day focussed on the fashion, fascinators and hatinators, rather then horses. I also cherish the way my mother packs a picnic and ensures that the Club sandwiches will never get confused.

October 08 055

October 08 050October 08 047Despite previous love letters to Sydney…Melbourne, I do love you. Although only when you play nice and give me sunshine.

I should be fine. On paper, life looks perfect. I’m anticipating thrilling adventures, a (fingers crossed) big win on the Melbourne Cup and tonight I’m getting dressed up as a hippie. See? What’s not to like?

But I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed. Cue dialogue from ’10 Things I Hate About You’…

Not “I woke up and just realised I have Lindsey Lohan’s lips” kind of overwhelmed, but enough to make me ancy. Enough for me to wake up in a bath of sweat after having nightmares each night. Enough for me to make me want to eat more chocolate then should really be allowed. Enough for everyday to feel like a bad hair day, for none of my clothes to feel like they’re matching, to feel like I’m floundering when I should be in control. I know I’m sooking, that I really have no problems. That I have friends who buy me pale purple nail polish. I have a steady job. I live in an amazing place. I have dual citizenship, which means I get shorter queues at airports.  Which makes me feel guilty AND ancy. Do you ever feel that way too?

I’m blaming the report writing season. I’m blaming the amount of things I need to get done. I’m hoping that a good does of sunshine, fake tan and tonight’s fancy dress party will cheer me up (How can I be sad about the prospect of my best friend’s backyard transformed into a hippy harem?  Especially when their will be lollies and canoli???’)

So I plan to go to the hairdresser, eat fruit, match up my outfits the night before and put on a happy face. Here’s to hoping.

So, for my birthday I did get so many amazing things. I didn’t wake up next to George Clooney or get to ride on the Tay Tay tour bus or anything, but it was amazing all the same.

It did feature: Mangos, a Hannah Montana birthday card from my parents, honey joys and cupcakes that looked like Va jay jays. (They weren’t supposed to, they were meant to be beautiful and artistic rose petals. But my dirty minded friends played the Va jay jay card and now I can’t get that thought out of my head. Poor cupcakes.)

24th birthday! 068But seriously, look at my other, non phallic efforts… and remember this is coming from someone who pretty much can only cook a stir-fry. From a packet.24th birthday! 043

 

24th birthday! 047

I was also reminded, once again, how lucky I am to know the best people in the world. They were all there to celebrate with me. I really don’t know how I will cope without them next year… only they would think to buy me Taylor Swift tickets for my birthday, turn a cold night outside with blankets into a ‘Not Without My Daughter’ style charade and forgive me when I spilled their plate of Fairy Bread on the decking floor.

On another note..THANK YOU to the gorgeous Pia for the Superior Scribbler Award!

Superior Scribbler

Here are the rules of the Superior Scribbler Award:

1. Each Superior Scribbler must turn and pass on this award to 5 of the most deserved blogs.

2. Each Superior Scribbler must link to the blog and name the author from which he/she received the award on his/her blog.

3. Each Superior Scribbler must display the award on his or her blog, and link to this post.

4. Each blogger who was awarded Superior Scribbler, must visit this post and add their name to the Mr. Linky. That way we’ll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives this prestigious honor.

5. Each Superior Scribbler must post the rules to their blog.

I am tagging the following blogs:

…be happy anyway

First Three Chapters

Once upon a time…

Everyday Musings

 

 

It would have been a magical time…a period before the revolting invention of denim look leggings (I’d rather poke my eyes out then wear them…it would be ok if the people who wore them owned a mirror and were aware of the atrocity they were inflicting upon society…)

Just cinched in waists. Hats and gloves. Structured suits and Dior’s ‘New Look’. Big hair, real pearls and having the real, not the fake Chanel. (Give that you were loaded. And if I can time travel, I can totally be loaded).

vintage beach

audrey smokin'

dior-new-look

 

No need for fake tan. Or intense gym workouts. Just an ability to cook really good cakes while listening to the transistor and draw a straight enough line up your leg to pass for nylons. And a lack of outwardly feminist values.

Ahhhh who am I kidding? Pass me my ipod….

balloons

To Whom It May Concern,

It’s my birthday on Sunday. I would like it ever so much if you could give me these things when I awake, one year older:

A bedside lamp that works. Mangos. Lots of mangos. 27*C weather. A pair of killer heels. For a sad friend to be happy, even just for a little bit. The answers to the following questions: Why do really terrible things happen to really terrific people? Do echidnas spike each other when they hug? Why is my room always so dusty, no matter how many times I dust it with special dust pickerupper cloths?

I would also adore:

A Summer full of sunny days and free of bushfires. Gluten free bread that doesn’t taste like an old dry cake. To sit on a swing in the park with my best friends, eating Frosty Fruit icy poles. More people to see how fun it is to volunteer. Time to read the pile of books stacked up next to my bed. A classroom that stays tidy and students who are as always kind and funny as I know they can be. The scent of cantelope to disappear from the inside of my car. I only drove around with a cantelope in my car for ONE day, seriously.

And as long as I’m not stretching the friendship…

Let me eat a danish outside Tiffany & Co. when I visit NY. Let my camera not get stolen. Let me pull off the Mimco matching beret & scarf combo I plan to rock in Europe. Let my family stay well and safe and know how much I appreciate them while I’m away. Let me have Blair’s wardrobe. And especially, let it not rain on Saturday night.

Thank you. That will be all. Love Laura

Turn a bad day good: Head to the movies with your Drew Barrymore look-a-like best friend to watch ‘Julie & Julia’ while chowing down on hamburgers and Diet Coke. Chase it up with a double scoop of honey malt macadamia ice-cream in a waffle cone and D&M conversation. (Justify the waffle cone to your gluten intolerant self because the bun on the hamburger was gluten free and looked like you were eating a scone – a biscuit to all you Americans- with meat in the middle. It tasted better than it looked.)

Perk yourself up on a Tuesday: Discover your amazing friends have bought you Taylor Swift tickets for your birthday, standing right up the front. Don’t threaten to make an ‘I love Tay Tay’ sign or they may threaten to boycott. Do plan on wearing cowboy boots and an awesome dress.

Get over a boy: Book a trip to the Greek islands. Tell yourself that there will be many many more boys there. Brainstorm bikini options.

Avoid writing school reports: Watch ‘Charlie’s Angels’ on DVD. Vacuum. Bake Honey Joys. Go for a walk. Watch another DVD. Sort out your wardrobe. Paint your nails. Repeat.

Feel old: Realise that the number of years since you finished high school is parallel to the amount time until you turn 30. And that your school’s uniform has completely changed since you left.

Feel young: Plan on making pink paper chains to decorate your birthday party. Buy a domed cake tin so you can bake a Barbie birthday cake.

Turn a tea towel into a chicken: Lay it down vertically and roll both ends until the meet in the middle. Fold horizontally, keeping rolls intact. Gently pull the corners of the tea towel from the middle of the rolls until they are sticking out a little. Hold the corners of each opposite side and pull tight. Voile`! You have a chicken! (Essential for entertaining children and drunk friends at dinner parties).

tea towel chicken* Not my picture, but props to the lady with the comfy looking dressing gown. A dressing gown is the perfect outfit to wear when practising how to make this chicken…

Hope you are having a blissful weekend!

Days of My Life

August 2017
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...and it got me thunking... A dip platter is my idea of a perfect meal beach Beyonce` would know Bill Cosby was right and kids do say the darndest things birthday girl bloggers bloggers who rock boys with black nail polish are the sex bushfires champagne child of the 80s chocolate Christmas cupcakes make the world go round dancing to cheesy songs could end war forever david jones dogs are some of the best people i know dreaming family fashion fashion thrills me forwards free friends morph into family frogs Gen Y gluten Gossip Girl XOXO half a letter and half a list Hamish Blake gives me a lift on my ride home Hard to believe but sometimes we are even cooler then Carrie Bradshaw headbands are what dreams are made of Heels equal power honest I'm actually 15 i'm bored therefore i blog i'm such a girl i adore kids books I am you are we are Australian I can't remember as I was a bit smashed i love HK and all its mango drinks i really hope you don't know me i still believe in Santa i wish i spoke in amazing quotations I would have a Diet Coke IV if i could jokes just a moment life long love Lilo Lily Allen Melbourne Miley Cyrus miranda kerr my friends are the best friends once upon a time i loved Hanson parents are intesting sometimes read my brain sad but true sometime i think little kids are smarter then me Spice Girls Spring has sprung Summer Sunday Taylor Swift teaching this show is my life travel unrealistic is more realistic we're all dying too weekends when I'm bored I'm crazy when will i will i be famous? Winter yes i rock singstar

Stuff I Wrote