During the second week on my holidays I promised my friends a blog post about my first week of holidays and how it completely blew my mind. But it seems once again I’ve promised more than I can deliver.
I’m going to the country, I thought. I don’t even get mobile phone coverage there, I reasoned. For god sake, my dear friend likes to read! Surely, SURELY I will have time to blog about the events of the most amazing week in at least 10 years?
Apparently not.
So as I sit here, first day back at work, I’m feeling guilty; sooooo bloody guilty that yet again I’ve promised to share something precious with you and I’ve let you down.
So here’s what I propose: I will write a list here of the events that rocked me to my core – in a good way (I hope you weren’t expecting death and destruction. If so, I’m about to disappoint you YET AGAIN… best opt out now) – and I will endeavour to write a little on each over the come weeks.
OK…
1.Caught up with a friend from school… massive, hugely confronting, and yet bought about an incredible sense of peace.
2.I decided to see a chiropractor about my rickety little hands. I’ve been putting it off for 20 years because it’s part of a bigger picture I avoid thinking about at all costs. Plus I knew it would hurt – and it did – but it was a good hurt, a moving-forward hurt. More about that later.
3.Finally, an event I’ve been praying would come to Sydney did, and it was like water after a week in the desert… utterly quenching. It went for just over two hours and when I walked back out into the daylight I thought I might burst. It was called Women of Letters and I will tell you more about it… cross my heart.
Did I mention today’s my first day back at work? Well, that was my lunch break so I’d better scoot so I can try and stay ahead and maybe, just maybe get a chance to tell you about my most amazing week.
xx
PS forgive my typos… I’m whipping this out so fast and that dreadful woman who took me for Business Writing in 1991 is in my head going ‘You’re not going to let it go out with proofreading, are you Tracey?” Well yes I am, Helen… and you can shove your ‘rules’ up your Fletcher Jones Twin Set.
Mood: Alive
Food: Warm roast chicken sandwich
Music: Philadelphia Grand Jury ‘Hope is for Hopers’
05 October 2010
04 October 2010
Up.
Have you watched the movie, 'Up'? I have just finished watching it and I'm teary and shellshocked. Forgive me.
At the 11 and a half minute mark, Georgie paused the DVD and looked at me, with giant tears rolling down his cheeks. Tears not unlike my own.
He's popped out to buy coffee now and I haven't asked what made him cry. My tears spilled when I realised the parallel to our life; and that one day, one of us will be alone.
It isn't a new thought - I've had it many times before - and at times the fear makes me wonder if it wouldn't have been easier to have never fallen in love.
But then what would I be without him? He is the reason I put two feet on the floor every morning... Imagine not having that? I can't.
Loving someone is a high risk adventure. Like tying balloons to your house and floating off in pursuit of a dream.
He'll be back in a moment and I've decided not to ask about his tears... I think I know the answer.
Mood: melancholy
Music: the theme to 'Up'
Food: the best coffee this end of town (thanks Georgie x)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
28 August 2010
The Game
Well, it's taken for-bloody-ever but I fancy a little blogging.
It's a sunny Saturday arvo here in Sydders and the end of a rather thrilling week - the first in quite a while where I've felt excited about my work... the unexpected result of someone noticing that a mag I wrote was crap.
I can't tell you how fantastic it feels after four years of observations like "nobody reads the copy" to know that someone actually noticed when I was off my game.
I doubt the observer has any idea the impact he had. Admittedly he didn't use the word 'crap' (he's much too diplomatic) and his rant was directed at all the contributors. But he was right, it was a poor effort.
So this week I've been pounding the keyboard, furiously pursuing the thrill I get when I know I'm writing great stuff. And all it took was to be reminded that what I do - what we all do - matters.
Mood: reflective
Food: Cherry Ripe Cherry Roll
Music: Morphine 'Yes'
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
It's a sunny Saturday arvo here in Sydders and the end of a rather thrilling week - the first in quite a while where I've felt excited about my work... the unexpected result of someone noticing that a mag I wrote was crap.
I can't tell you how fantastic it feels after four years of observations like "nobody reads the copy" to know that someone actually noticed when I was off my game.
I doubt the observer has any idea the impact he had. Admittedly he didn't use the word 'crap' (he's much too diplomatic) and his rant was directed at all the contributors. But he was right, it was a poor effort.
So this week I've been pounding the keyboard, furiously pursuing the thrill I get when I know I'm writing great stuff. And all it took was to be reminded that what I do - what we all do - matters.
Mood: reflective
Food: Cherry Ripe Cherry Roll
Music: Morphine 'Yes'
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
07 February 2010
Once upon a time...
... I started a blog. I had great hopes for my blog... an outlet for my creativity, a chance to connect with my own writing voice, and maybe, just maybe, reignite my passion for the written word.
And then I got busy. So busy that writing for The Daily Boop kept slipping further and further down the list of things I had to write.
Then I forgot I had a blog.
And then I remembered again.
The end.
Or is it a new beginning.
x
And then I got busy. So busy that writing for The Daily Boop kept slipping further and further down the list of things I had to write.
Then I forgot I had a blog.
And then I remembered again.
The end.
Or is it a new beginning.
x
22 July 2009
Sunshine
Many years ago, my Mum did astrology charts for my husband Georgie and me, and she said that he will be the one who keeps the romance alive in our relationship. I remember thinking ‘What about me? I’m romantic!’
But you know what? She was right. He keeps life fun when I’m under the pump or strung out about something or racing the clock to be somewhere on time. And he can read me like a book which shits me sometimes because he knows everything… even when he knows nothing.
And when I’m venting, he gets in my face and smirks and says ‘Don’t you smile, Boopie!’
And then I smile.
My world wouldn’t be a patch on what it is without him. I love him so much and words don’t really cut it.
There’s a song by Sinead O’Connor called ‘Dancing Shoes’ (Google it. It’s beautiful) and each time I’m writing a card for Georgie I feel compelled to finish it by quoting a line from that song. I resist because I worry he’ll think I haven’t put thought into what I want to say, that I’ve just dragged out an old standard. Silly, eh?
So while I’m feeling brazen (and not just a little bit lovey) I’m going to drag out that ‘old standard’ and finish with this:
Darren Scarce, you take my rainy days and make them go away. I love you.
But you know what? She was right. He keeps life fun when I’m under the pump or strung out about something or racing the clock to be somewhere on time. And he can read me like a book which shits me sometimes because he knows everything… even when he knows nothing.
And when I’m venting, he gets in my face and smirks and says ‘Don’t you smile, Boopie!’
And then I smile.
My world wouldn’t be a patch on what it is without him. I love him so much and words don’t really cut it.
There’s a song by Sinead O’Connor called ‘Dancing Shoes’ (Google it. It’s beautiful) and each time I’m writing a card for Georgie I feel compelled to finish it by quoting a line from that song. I resist because I worry he’ll think I haven’t put thought into what I want to say, that I’ve just dragged out an old standard. Silly, eh?
So while I’m feeling brazen (and not just a little bit lovey) I’m going to drag out that ‘old standard’ and finish with this:
Darren Scarce, you take my rainy days and make them go away. I love you.
25 April 2009
For you and my dad... and everything after
It's been such an interesting start to 2009 and while I began with the best intentions of making The Daily Boop a 'daily' thing, I think you and I both know by now that that just ain't gonna happen.
So I thought I'd post a little catch-up on the year so far, as seen from the desk at The Daily Boop's head office (read: my lounge room).
It began in Tasmania with a long-planned holiday to catch up with my sister Sasha and my best friend Mrs Bearly. We took at least one photo for every kilometre travelled and had quite a good trip. Then we spent a few days hanging out at home before heading back to the nine-to-five and I'm ever so glad we did: this global economic crisis thing had everyone on their toes with last-minute plans to shore up the business and the businesses of those who depend on us. Being the girl with the words meant the following months became one very long and hastily-written sentence.
In between times, my father-in-law (Gra-Gra) gave us all the fright of our lives when he was diagnosed with the big C. For a while, he was the thing behind every thought we had; and while I'm not one for prayers, I think ours were answered as he seems to be making a full recovery. My Mum and I also reestablished contact and with everything going on with Gra-Gra, I was reminded again of how life is just too bloody short.
Coming up to Easter, the George and I were stuffed. Writing anything felt like giving birth to a block of flats and I was finding myself getting really cross with everything which is most unlike me. So we took the week after Easter off just to hang out. He spent most of it in his studio and I spent it cross stitching. We went to the gorgeous Blue Mountain to see the autumn leaves before they dropped and took some beautiful photos (I'll post some shortly). That was the day we actually started to wind down, and when I landed back at the nine to five this week I found the words were flowing freely once again.
So now back to The Daily Boop. I love his little blog of mine... it's never become the thing I planned it to be and that's the way most things go with me: I start with an idea and as life is breathed into it, it kind of takes over and leads me where it wants to go.
Tomorrow is the seventh anniversary of my dad's passing. A year or two before he died he rang me at work (which he rarely ever did) to tell me that he'd just seen an old friend of mine from school and he had told her about my plans to write a book. He finished off by saying, "I really hope you do, kiddo".
Well Dad, just so you know, the book still bubbles away in the back of my mind and when it's ready to be written, I promise you I'll write it.
In loving memory of my Dad, Ian Linnell. 27 June 1950 - 26 April 2002
So I thought I'd post a little catch-up on the year so far, as seen from the desk at The Daily Boop's head office (read: my lounge room).
It began in Tasmania with a long-planned holiday to catch up with my sister Sasha and my best friend Mrs Bearly. We took at least one photo for every kilometre travelled and had quite a good trip. Then we spent a few days hanging out at home before heading back to the nine-to-five and I'm ever so glad we did: this global economic crisis thing had everyone on their toes with last-minute plans to shore up the business and the businesses of those who depend on us. Being the girl with the words meant the following months became one very long and hastily-written sentence.
In between times, my father-in-law (Gra-Gra) gave us all the fright of our lives when he was diagnosed with the big C. For a while, he was the thing behind every thought we had; and while I'm not one for prayers, I think ours were answered as he seems to be making a full recovery. My Mum and I also reestablished contact and with everything going on with Gra-Gra, I was reminded again of how life is just too bloody short.
Coming up to Easter, the George and I were stuffed. Writing anything felt like giving birth to a block of flats and I was finding myself getting really cross with everything which is most unlike me. So we took the week after Easter off just to hang out. He spent most of it in his studio and I spent it cross stitching. We went to the gorgeous Blue Mountain to see the autumn leaves before they dropped and took some beautiful photos (I'll post some shortly). That was the day we actually started to wind down, and when I landed back at the nine to five this week I found the words were flowing freely once again.
So now back to The Daily Boop. I love his little blog of mine... it's never become the thing I planned it to be and that's the way most things go with me: I start with an idea and as life is breathed into it, it kind of takes over and leads me where it wants to go.
Tomorrow is the seventh anniversary of my dad's passing. A year or two before he died he rang me at work (which he rarely ever did) to tell me that he'd just seen an old friend of mine from school and he had told her about my plans to write a book. He finished off by saying, "I really hope you do, kiddo".
Well Dad, just so you know, the book still bubbles away in the back of my mind and when it's ready to be written, I promise you I'll write it.
In loving memory of my Dad, Ian Linnell. 27 June 1950 - 26 April 200219 March 2009
For you and your genius
I've been saving up posts for about two months now, not having had the chance to finesse things the way I like to before I hit the scary orange 'publish post' button. But right now I'm going to do something I've never done: publish a post without reading, re-reading and editing the edits 37 times.
But you have to trust me.
This is a talk (a TED Talk to be exact) given by an author I don't know (Elizabeth Gilbert), who wrote a book I've never heard of (Eat, Pray Love). It takes 19 minutes but it'll be 19 minutes well spent. I promise.
But you have to trust me.
This is a talk (a TED Talk to be exact) given by an author I don't know (Elizabeth Gilbert), who wrote a book I've never heard of (Eat, Pray Love). It takes 19 minutes but it'll be 19 minutes well spent. I promise.
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