I wake and feel the fell of night.....

I wish I could record my thoughts straight from my brain.
I have so many different ideas go through my head in the space of a minute that I can' t keep up.
I went out for an internet blind date, met for a drink mid-afternoon, with the cutest man. I so blew it. I am flaming with embarrassment. He was so nice!!!! I was so unattractive. I have to give up smoking.


I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
What hours, O what black hours we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.
I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decrees
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves, but worse.

I identify with this poem. It touches me. I feel the same bleakness about me. I fel even more lost because I don't have any faith.

So excited, BDO tomorrow. Hate Melbourne's unpredictable weather. What to take? Heavy winter jacket cause it's likely to snow? AAaaaarghhh!
Just don't want to get sunburned. I hate being sunburned, so ugly and uncomfortable.
Really excited!!!!

So much to say, don't know how much I can reveal.

BDO. YAY!!! My first, and of course my most memorable!!!

Internet Dating

Gone are the days when I could happily go out to a night club, get a little sloshed and pick up a new boyfriend. With the passing of my years, I have found that the drunken Pash leads to little more than the chewing off the arm syndrome on the following morning. Beer goggles tend to be a little more intense than they used to, either that or I am getting more desperate.
Nowadays, I like to actually talk to my prospective partners. So, in the search for that (elusive) life partner(or even three month partner), I have resorted to internet dating.
Now, I know that all of you beautiful people out there are laughing your arises off at this moment, but let me tell you, desperate times call for desperate measures.
So, I took the plunge and registered on a couple of sites. It is not exactly easy to find witty and interesting things to say about yourself, and find a photo of yourself that doesn't make you look like a drunken party girl, a straight laced, frigid freak, or a hooker. You start out by saying all the great things about yourself, then wonder what the hell you're gone write about for the next 98 lines.
Do you say that you are a talented, artistic woman that sings, and likes animals? Or does that come out like, you're a bit up yourself, smoke lots of pot, like to make a dick of yourself at karaoke, and have twenty cats?
Do you say that you are a professional woman, interested in politics, and not interested in anyone currently unemployed? Or does that come out like, you're a workaholic, like to argue the point about world hunger, and expect a diamond and a trip to Europe for each anniversary/birthday/christmas?
Do you say that you are down to earth, like cooking and quiet nights at home? or does that come out like you spend each weekend in trakkie daks, are going to be the little homemaker, and will do all their washing and ironing while you watch the telly on a Friday night while they are at the pub with their mates?
I agonized for hours over what to write in order to attract some halfway intelligent/easy on the eye/normal guy, when it didn't really matter!!
Without a photo, most men don't look twice at your profile, and if you happen to put up the photo of when you had your hair dyed blonde, you get twice as many hits.
It has occurred to me that all the men that cruise these sites are out for one thing. Not that that's all bad, but you wonder, after a few distasterous dates, if that handsome, rich, intelligent guy really exists outside of your imagination.
And MEN CAN'T READ ANYWAY!
I had my profile up there for a few weeks, and thought that maybe I wasn't being specific enough. I mean, DOESN'T WANT KIDS, YOURS OR MY OWN, didn't seem to make much of a difference. I got hits from guys that had their three kids from their previous marriage living at home, and wanted more.
And NO MARRIED GUYS! Doesn't mean a thing to the illiterate, two timing arseholes out there that want to have "discreet weekends away".
The half dozen times I actually met up with someone from the site was a real eye opener as well.
For one, at least when I put up a photo, it is a photo of me, and a recent photo at that. I know that a good photographer can really do wonders, but please? How do you gain three stone and twenty years in a couple of months?
I think that I have been on the shortest date in history. I met this guy, a real hunk actually, dark Mediterranean looks and bulging biceps. But then he opened his mouth. The guy was a bimbo! After two minutes of meaningless "so what do you do for a living?'', I came right out and said it.
"You're just in this for the sex, aren't you?"
His reply was, "Well, you live close by don't you? Let's go back to your place."
I gently thanked him for the invitation (to my place no less), got up and walked away.
He called me two days later!!!! A total bimbo.
Sadly, I haven't given up. I still have my profile out there in the hope that some worthy gentleman will read my truthful and direct testimony of my selfworth, and come screaming up on his motorcycle, take me to the pub for a counter meal and a few games of pool, ask if I would like to go to the Blues Club down the road, and sweep me off my feet!


Then I'll probably wake up and realise it was all a dream........

Well, my friend told me that I would have to try this, so here I am.

I am wondering whether I will make better blogs when at work or at home. I guess that I will have to keep blogging to find out.

Living in Melbourne, summer is always just around the corner, that is, until it suddenly hits with a big bang. I hate the weather here, this morning I had to drag out another pair of jeans for work, when last week the flimsiest shift was all I needed to sweat, oh, I mean , get through the day. Why can't we have some sane weather? You know, weather you can count on, like get out your summer gear and put your winter stuff in storage, lose the doona, and crank up the fan for the night. (I am not big on Air Conditioning, it serves only to make you very cold and need a doona in the middle of summer, except that in Melbourne you DO need a doona in the middle of summer).
I think that I am insane to be living here where it is so cold. Due to some thoughtless choices made in a previous life, I am doomed to suffer yet another year or two in this weird weather phenomenon called Melbourne.
I have no doubt that the heat will take over for two days out of every week, those two being Mondays and Tuesdays without question, for the rest of the so called summer. It always turns out that the days that you least like being at work, eg. Monday and Tuesday, are made even more unbearable due to the perfect weather appearing. It's not like thousands of people don't call in sick to their boring mindless jobs and take a spin down to the beach. I don't have that option, due to the fact that I work for my brother, and I live with the slave driver as well. No "sickies" for me, no calling in with the early morning voice, trying to sound like you actually HAVE got that terrible sore throat, and can't possibly manage to make it in 'til Wednesday. In fact, so far in the year of my employment, the only ailment I have attracted is flu, which knocked me out cold for four days, from where I bounced back with such alarming speed that it was assumed that I had been faking it all along!
So, I guess I could describe it as the Summertime Blues. That two weeks I had off over christmas just seemed to fly past with amazing speed, and before I knew it, I was back at my desk, feeling like it had never even happened.
You know when you were a kid, and the summer holidays seemed to go for so long?
My theory is, that at the age of, say, 5, one year is one fifth of your life, right? So when you get to 30, one year is only one thirtieth of your life. So therefore, at the age of five, christmas is an awful long time in coming, one whole fifth of your life, but when you hit thirty, christmas rolls around a lot quicker, being only one thirthieth of your life. That makes heaps of sense to me.
Anyway, I suppose I should really be working by now, not that anyone has noticed that I'm not, yet....