ENOUGH MEAT ALREADY!

Oh look I used an exclamation point, which must mean I really mean it. But seriously... ENOUGH MEAT ALREADY! I'm more than happy to admit to being a complete devotee of meat, I love the idea of a mixed grill, a snack that is savoury, a BBQ encrusted something or other. However when its the only thing you are allowed, or at the very least, recommended to consume at least every 2 to 3 hours, it suddenly becomes a chore. So why have I been reduced to a cave man's diet? Why is it that my shopping basket is layered to the brim with enough meat products to cater a rugby team BBQ? Well it's this thing called a carb detox, which basically means you deny yourself sugar and carbs for three days. It apparently forces your body to start chewing into your body fat and completely ends your lust for all things sweet. Yeah right, I want chocolate and sugar and some sort of carb. Perhaps some bread, with a heafty slab of butter, the sort that resembles a slice of cheese from a far and a pure delight up close.

Mmmm this must be something close to what it's like to be trapped on an island surrounded by wall to wall meat products. Everywhere you look there are fish and cows and chickens and little baby lambs and turkeys and anything else that looks like it might benefit from a few turns on top of an open fire. Slurp. Then again, once you've worked your way through the island, sampled all the varieties of life, you kind of lose interest. Suddenly the vegetation starts to look good, the sand starts to resemble sugar, fuck, worst case scenario, some of that animal poo is gonna start looking like the wind just blew the shiny foil wrapper from its surrounds. That is what a carb detox does to the human brain. The last time I did this, oh yeah, this isn't the first time I've ridden the all meat express, but the last time it was easier, it was new, it was different, now it just seems like a fuck load of meat. Vanity is a bitch huh?

However I'm not giving in, cos I know how well it worked last time. Eventually, once the detox was over and I stepped into the next phase which included lots of the green stuff and a handful of carbs, it was even easier. A delightful 8 kilos lighter a few months later I couldn't have given a toss about the 3 day detox, it was a distant memory. So right now I'm thumping the keyboard in a vain attempt to distract myself from the meaty exhaustion that is currently lumbering through my body. I do however find myself sucking the fuck out of an abundance of sugar free lollies. Anyone who has consumed bulk amounts of those sugar free lollies soon realises it doesn't say EXCESSIVE CONSUMPTION MAY HAVE A LAXATIVE EFFECT for nothing. So suddenly I've discovered the 2008 version of laxatives with a sickly sweet exterior. Oh yeah its heaven being the Kate Moss of the dietary sweet aisle.

WHO'S A LUCKY FUCKO THEN?

Well in all honesty that would be me. I know, can you believe the confidence of me being all check it and actually saying, guess what, I'm a lucky fucko? Anyway this blog has been in a fucken coma of the sort normally reserved for day time soapies. You know the type, pretty, mute, maybe a touch of fluoro light glistening off the drool carefully placed on the super hero style chin. Hmmm, actually, no they wouldn't go as far as the drool on the chin cos that would ruin the perfection of the coma ridden hottie lying all innocent style in hospital robes. But I like the idea of fucking with perfection so lets put some drool on his face and maybe he can make weird arse groans every now and then too just to fuck with the viewers head. Anyway now that we've established what kind of coma this blog has been in, lets offer up some reasons and excuses.

The first reason, I'm so stupid happy this is the last place I wanna be, then there is the pathological laziness that is part of my genetic makeup and last, but by no means least, is the cheap arse office chair positioned in front of my mac that is anything but enticing. You know the kind, it looks alluring when you consider the price at the checkout but once you've spent more than 10 minutes in it, you curse your cheapness and wish you delved into those savings you don't have and bought something cushy and leather coated that might even come with built in massage qualities. Anyway I'm finally here, fighting the numbness that's already building in my left arse cheek and typing away as the 'Death Proof' soundtrack plays in the background.

So from memory the last few entries in this blog were clearly focused on me feeling sorry for myself and cursing why I wasn't good enough and seeing as so much has changed since then, I feel it's only fair I update things so everyone knows I'm no longer so dramatic. So in short the dead shit boyfriend is gone and part of history and his way better half Martin is free and we are together as one. Well as together as you can be when you are in Australia and he is in the UK, but its a temporary thing and we're both in this for the long run so there aint no point in sweating the separation when we both know it won't be forever. I've been to London to chill with the tastiest biscuit on the face of the planet and of course we talk to each other everyday in between. My next visit is locked in for three weeks in October when he hits the 30th birthday milestone and it's safe to say we are both chewing at the bit.

So that leaves us with the luckiest fucko on the planet statement from earlier and because this is my blog, I'm allowed to fill it with anything I so desire. Today I feel like celebrating the man of my dreams, Martin Clarke. He's without a doubt the most amazing man I've ever had the great fortune of falling in love with. Why he is so amazing comes down to so many things. Let's start with that thing in his beautiful head commonly referred to as a brain. It's mature beyond it's 29 plus years and never fails to impress or delight me with its contents. It can take me from feeling giddy with delight to laughing till I snort and guffaw to those moments when your eyes fill with tears from the sheer delight of feeling so deeply loved. Just knowing him would be reward enough but to be in the privileged position of having him love you back with all his heart is the most incredible thing I've EVER experienced.

I thought I'd been in love a few times before but all those other times were like dress rehearsals. It's kind of like I was backstage, rehearsing the script, making sure I knew the role, learnt my lines, all that crap. Now though, I'm centre stage, opening night was ages ago and everyday I'm front and centre enjoying the applause of a billion totally satisfied theatre goers. Then again even that doesn't come close to describing how incredible it feels to be one half of this love. If I could build a relationship in a laboratory, add all the qualities I wanted, from the way the guy looks, acts, feels, touches and talks all the way through to how he makes me feel and what it is he likes to enjoy with me there is no way I would have thought up all the things that Martin possesses and gives me everyday.

That's why I'm the luckiest fucko on the planet. I don't have any doubts and I don't have to wonder what its like to love like we all dream of loving, cos I live it everyday. It's human nature to feel guilty about that, to question it, to wonder why we got so lucky, but if you give into all of those traits you end up destroying the good thing you've got. I'd be lying if I didn't say I've gone through those things. I've given in to jealousy, to worry and questioning, more than I'm happy to admit, but I think those things are normal when you've never had something this good. You want to make sure it's as real as you think it is, you wanna make sure you aren't gonna lose it, you wanna make sure no one else is gonna take it away from you. I'm now at the point where I know it's real, I'm lucky, I deserve this, I love this and I'm gonna put everything I've got into it cos that is exactly what I'm getting back in return.

I want everyone to feel what I'm feeling, I want everyone to get this kind of love. There have been far too many times when I've given the love and got nothing back. It's like my co star wasn't on the same page of the script, they hadn't learnt their lines, they were there for the pay packet and the stardom. I was just there to make them look good and I could be written out and replaced at a whim. It was a Home and Away romance. Now I'm not acting at all, its from the heart, with all of my soul and my co star is totally on the same page. It's a fluid, organic, beautiful piece of poetry that gives me more rewards than I could have ever hoped for. I really am the luckiest fucko on the planet.

LABYRINTH - A POEM

Anyone that would take the time to put poetry onto paper and use me as their inspiration automatically throws me for a six. It's incredibly humbling to think that you can be inspiration for anyone, on any level, but to turn an art like poetry into a dedication to their thoughts of you, is amazing. I'm fortunate enough to be deeply in love with someone, that love isn't easy, won't always be within touching distance and no doubt will bring me more heart ache. However there is no hesitation when it comes to choosing which I'd prefer, difficult love, seperated by boundaries and circumstances is better than never experiencing that love at all. One of the hardest things to do is to let go of the ones you love, but life is all about letting go, we are only on this planet for a short while and each of us will lose the ones we hold most dear. Enjoy your time while you have it and take nothing for granted.

TOUCH ME IN THE FADING NIGHT
LEAVE ME FEELING WARM
TAKE MY DARKNESS AND DESIRE
LET MY FEELINGS FREE
IT'S NOT ENOUGH TO TOUCH YOU NOW
IT'S NOT ENOUGH TO SEE
HOLD MY WORDS AS RING THEY WILL
WHEN STORMS APPROACH FROM ME
IGNORE THE FOG THE SUN WILL COME AND BURN AWAY THE HAZE
NOW SETTLE DEAR
FIND ME IN THIS MAZE
YOURS TO KEEP FROM FEAR

M.C. 25/06/07

NOTHING REALLY CHANGES

October rolls into November and I find myself still in the same place with no changes worth reporting. A plane ticket is booked that I will probably have to cancel, sms messages are sent and ignored and all the time I sit alone wondering what to think. Is he sleeping? Does he really care? Why the fuck can't he just talk to me? I'm losing hope and expecting things to collapse in a huge heap. I think my 2 weeks of holidays will be spent in tears, mourning something that could have been amazing? Am I the only one that thinks it will be amazing? Why aren't I good enough to take a chance on? Why does it take this long to decide who you want to be with? Why do I feel so pathetic? I'm sick of being ignored, sick of having to hide and sick of being an after thought.

When can I place my heart in the hands of another and not have it treated like it is nothing? When will the one I love meet me half way? When will he make the choice that proves his devotion? Why is it so fucken difficult to put me first? How come I give so much care, compassion and love to others yet find it so difficult to have it returned with any real conviction? Am I forever to be used, abused and discarded? Harsh feelings, awful words, honest none the less.

2 weeks left before everything changes for better or for worse....time will tell.

I CAN'T SLEEP

That's why I'm here, tapping away on the keyboard, currently I have one of those heads that's full of thoughts and questions. It's the kind of head that won't shut up, won't let me sleep, won't stop badgering me. I could grab a jazz cigarette and try and soothe myself into slumber but the associated paranoia would make me think I'm gonna have a heart attack or some other stupid ailment. I wish it were easy to switch off sometimes, especially when love is involved. Love, its that elusive thing we all desperately search for, we're told from an early age that it's the be all and end all. Some internal soul searching on my behalf leaves me wondering if love just brings pain and upset in the long run. Love may be the stuff of Hollywood movies and romance novels but in reality it's a pain in the arse. I've thought I've been in love a number of times but the relationship breaks down or never even gets started and with time you look back at it and think...well what the hell was that?

Is it just infatuation? Is it just lust? Is love a big fat lie? Do we convince ourselves we are in love simply because we feel a connection with someone? Are we that dependant on the love of another that we seek it out and place it on the shoulders of the first person who shows any interest? Once upon a time I was "in love" with anyone who gave me the time of day. Ok let's clarify that, I don't mean anyone with a wristwatch and the ability to tell me where the big hand and the little hand was situated, was immediately a potential victim for my stalking or anything. I mean if a guy showed enough interest in me to say hello or even talk to me, then that was enough for me to cling to. Pathetic huh? Thankfully that was when I was in my 20's. Now I've found the real thing, it truly is the be all and end all of romances, the kind of love that floors you and makes you wonder what all those other times you were in love meant. They seriously pale into insignificance in comparison to what I've found.

But here is the problem, this love isn't mine to enjoy, because the person I'm in love with is already taken. How much can someone be in love with you when they already spend most of their time with someone else? How much can someone be in love with you when they continue to stay with that person and put you on the back burner? How much can they really love you when they don't really explain why they have to be with that person even though they swear they are no longer in love with them and are more friends than lovers? How much time will I spend hoping, waiting and wondering when things will change? After the one you love with all your heart, continues to let you down and push you aside to look after the feelings of the one they are already with, how are you meant to feel?

I know how I'm feeling. I feel stupid, I feel like I'm annoying, I feel like I'm not important, I feel like I'm wasting my time, I feel like I have been discarded and trodden on. I also feel hopeful, nervous, overly keen and a little bit desperate. Lots of these feelings are completely fucked, but they are part of what makes us into the person we are. So where am I left? I have an immense love for a guy, but no faith that the love I have for him is really returned. I have amazing love to share but no trust that the one I want to give it to will ever meet me half way. How do you trust someone who spends all their time with you lying to the one they are already with? What is so open about an open relationship if you are keeping secrets the whole time? Can you build a trusting relationship with someone like that?

I fucken hope so, that's the incredibly sad thing, after all that has happened, I'm still clinging to the hope that this will sort itself out. I can't explain it but perhaps love truly is blind. My closest friends have faith that this guy will come through but as time goes on I have more and more doubts. It's unbelievably difficult to be so in love yet feel so betrayed at the same time. It hurts my heart and a weaker person would no doubt throw themselves in front of a bus or dish out a tirade of abuse but neither of those things are in my nature thank fuck. I mean seriously, how can you hate or resent someone if you are truly in love with them? That's the ultimate question. Here I sit...

alone...

wondering...

waiting...

When will my turn come?
When will I be good enough?
When will I be the one?
When will he be mine?
When can I truly call this my LOVE?

SOMEONE SPECIAL

Been meaning to put this on my blog for ages but things always seem to get in the way, minutes become hours, hours become days, days become...well you know how it goes. Anyway this is the first time anyone has thought enough of me to write a poem especially for me. I can still remember the feeling of incredible appreciation I felt on receiving it and to have it delivered and explained to me by someone I love so deeply makes it even more important. Its obviously private and will make no sense to a stranger but the fact that its full meaning is only understood by 2 people makes it all that more special. The writer is incredibly talented and an amazing soul and for him to think me worthy of putting pen to paper I will always be grateful.

DASHING THROUGH THE DISTANT LIGHT
DANCING IN THE DARKENED NIGHT
SCREAMING IN THE QUIET TIME
STARING INTO STARS

TOUCH ME NOW
DON'T LET ME GO
DON'T LET ME FEEL THE COLD
SPEAK TO ME IN EASY WORDS
CARRY ME AFAR

MORNING YAWNS YEARN MORE ONCE MORE
AFTERNOONS DRAW CLOSER STILL
TAKE THE TIME TO FEEL ME NEAR
NOTHING HERE TO FEAR

THE MOON BEARS DOWN UPON OUR SKIN
TILL SUNSHINE PLAYS ITS HAND
TIME TO GO BUT NOT FOR LONG
I'LL LEAVE MY HEART AJAR

M.C. 23/07/07

HEAD FAIRY FLOSS...ENOUGH ALREADY!

Once upon a time, back in my teenage years, when I flicked my head from side to side, the movements would be accompanied by a sway of long, thick, brown, bountiful hair. I'm talking bullshit thick, really curly, shiny, Wella-fucken-woman hair that drove my hairdresser into gushes of approval and demands to use my head of hair for their next hair dressing competition. I know you're probably sitting there thinking...

"Wow what was it like when you hit the catwalks of Milan?"

Hate to burst the bubble but I never got as far as Milan or Paris or London or New York, in fact I didn't even get as far as the Marion Shopping Centre in suburban Adelaide. Basically I did it once, my hairdresser coloured my hair blond with black strips down the side and cut it in the style of the 80's, heavy on the top, sharp and tight on the sides. It was fucken cool and I thought I was the ultimate new romantic hero. The reason I've chosen to divulge the sordid history of my teenage years is to illustrate the point that we all have fucked up hairstyles that we can laugh at.

Now though, I can barely contain my laughter as I walk the streets gob smacked at what translates as a 'trendy' haircut for men these days. Is it just me or am I right in assuming that there are a lot of guys out there with haircuts you'd normally find attached to the heads of women? I mean seriously, every little fucko seems to be wandering up the street with a head of hair that resembles a soft helmet. Its teased into a huge bubble around their heads, their side burns resemble the ones your Aunty used to have in the 60's with her mother fucking beehive. They gel the tips into little spikes that feather around their stupid fucken faces and they walk up the street in packs of three or four with the same style of wanky over blown bouffants. For the record guys, you DON'T look cool, you look like stupid fucken MORONS!

Soon I'm gonna walk the streets and start flicking matches as these combustible piles of head fairy floss. I mean seriously what the FUCK ARE YOU THINKING??? Do they look in the mirror and think it actually looks good? Do they seriously pay someone to style it like that? Are hairdressers seriously proud of what they have created? If it was my job to cut hair and some guy requested I shape his head into a massive ball of nanna hair I would gently place my hands on his shoulders, tell him to look really hard in the mirror and then repeatedly slam his head over and over again into the glass until I knocked some fucken sense into him. I know the 80's were bad, new romantics were happy to wear silky shirts, brooch's at the neck and top heavy hairstyles but that was what was cool. Please explain to me what is cool about fairy floss haircuts? Where did they come from? Who decided they were cool and why is it straight guys that seem to think its so fucken cool to walk around looking like that? Oh and assuming they actually are straight and some woman actually decides to go out with them, how are they coping? Do they only go out with them because they know they will never get told to hurry up when they are preparing to go out? Do they have fetishes for hair styling products, dryers and large mirrors? Are they only interested because they wanna know how to style their own hair that high, that fluffy, that girlie?

The fact of the matter is, they look like huge fucken stupid tools, even a trashed, half nude Britney deserves more respect than any guy with a fairy floss haircut. So next time you're in front of a mirror, check your bad self and if you could grab a black marker pen and scribble a dome around your head where your hair is and it looks like a massive helmet then you sir are a fucken wanker and you should be heading to the nearest barber for an all over buzz cut and get some self respect you pointless princess. Oh yeah, I'm a poof and I'm calling YOU a princess, seriously, go check yourself NOW!