I'm Ok... Really!

It's funny what you inherit from your parents. Round eyes, a nose that points up, earlobes that attach to your neck. Parent/child similarities often consist of a long lists of physical attributes and behaviors acquaintances love to comment on. I'm not talking about when your a kid either, in fact often you settle into them. After 23 years of suspicion over my origin (I've mentioned my pasty complexion amongst a family of tanned) I'm just starting to notice how much I'm beginning to look like my mum. It's nice in a lot of ways, like finding a group of people you have something in common with, knowing you belong somewhere, not to mention a topic of conversation with relatives and family friends you never see and have nothing to say to. This sense of kinship and implied conception however can come at a price. Sure I got my dads sense of humor, both their artistic inclinations and my mums fierce sense of independence but I also got my dad's lack of physical prowess, their combined short stature and my mums weird pertinacity to attract strange people. Most importantly I've inherited a curse from the family that means no matter where I go or what I do it's almost impossible to stay anonymous. Take the other night for example. I hadn't seen my boyfriend in a while and choosing the middle of the week to rendezvous we headed to the movies in Bondi for the 25th anniversary of "Back to the future". 

I'd arrived late thanks to Sydney peak hour traffic and managed to settle in my seat just in time for the pre show festivities. So far so good, a late arrival had not spoiled my quest to remain one of the crowd. I cuddled up to my boyfriend and we laughed as we watched self professed BTTF nerds excitedly answer trivia questions in exchange for DVD's or Blue Ray's generously sponsored by Universal. Not knowing the world well enough I hadn't made a fool of myself answering a question wrong, or tripping down the aisle in an attempted to collect my prize. It's safe to say at this point I was feeling confident - I had gone a whole day of relative anonymity. Then, disaster struck. Relaxing further into my seat, unaware of impending doom I looked on as the host announced he was sadly out of trivia questions and would now resort to throwing DVD's into the audience… my muscles tensed… this sounded like trouble. After a brief pause as he collected himself and placed valuables at a safe distance, he picked up the box and taking on the persona of a trained Ultimate Frisbee sportsmen begun flinging them carelessly into the audience. Men dived into the aisles attempting to catch them, laughing and holding their prizes in triumph. My gut told me this gayety wouldn't last. Suddenly I noticed the host turn to face our direction, he still had some left. Eye's wide I watched as he flung one into the front, then another - wait it was a trick shot, it went spiraling in the other direction. Surely that was it, there couldn't be anymore. I waited, breath caught in my throat. 

To my horror there was one more. A shiny beacon of hope for everyone, a weapon of mass destruction for me. With a glint in his eye he cocked his arm back and spun his wrist around like a pro cricketer ready to bowl the opposition out. All four discs of extra features slowly spun towards me, I couldn't move, A hand shot up deflecting the blow only to strengthen it's arc as it came towards me. There was nothing I could do, bracing myself for impact I shut my eye's, too slow to lift my hands in time. BANG, the corner of the heavy plastic penetrated my glasses and went straight into my eye. I was down, withering in agony in the seat as tears sprung to my eyes. I could hear whispers of concern and disbelief spread through the cinema like an air born pathogen. With that one blow, I had become famous. The host called up guiltily to see whether I was alright (contemplating whether he had time to run out of the cinema before police were called) unable to open my eye and embarrassed for my tear streaked face I buried my head in the my lap and raised two feeble thumbs up to the crowd hoping it would communicate that I was indeed going to live and would appreciate it if the people up the back would turn of the lights so I could continue to cry in privacy. At the end of the film as we walked out I saw people looking around for my exit, whispering excitedly as though it was the highlight of their night… It probably was. 

We met some of my boyfriends friends and looked on as they realized I was "the DVD girl". That my friends is the story of my life. I'm perpetually The ________ (insert word of your choosing) Girl". So if your ever anywhere you see someone getting attention for something beyond their control, it's probably me, and know that I would appreciate you going back to you business and letting me continue with mine in private. 

Thank you 

Lesley

ALSO HAPPY (BELATED) HALLOWEEN 

Wait, you want to know about me?

Hey everyone

I know it's been a while. I promise to have a proper entry for you up here soon, in the meantime though I wanted to tell you about an interview I got to do with the fantastic Ziggy Nixon. 

It's my first ever and probably only ever interview so I'd love for you all the check it out. Ziggy really did his homework for the questions, which means after reading it you may know more about me than my parents, but I tried to make the answers as fun to read as I could ^_^ 

Interview

Did you fall in?

As we may have previously established I just happen to be a bathroom reader - yes that's right, I'm one of a small but very dedicated group known fondly as the bathroom readers institute, they even have books specially made for us. 

For those of you that like to get in, do your business and get out I can understand why this may be a hard thing to understand. "Why sit there in your own stink"? I can hear you saying. Your probably the same person that won't take baths, usually for the same reason "I refuse to sit in my own filth". Well I'm sorry to say I am the complete opposite, I'm not saying I fantasize about siting in stink or filth but there are things I like to take my time with. 

Alright, so that was probably more information than I should have shared so lets move on. The point is I spent time on the toilet, something you need to know to understand the rest of this story. 

It was on a rare night out to our local chinese restaurant that after a large water and more than my fare share of rice ships I felt the urge and excused myself accordingly. Locking myself in I was surprisingly quick to do what I needed and was back at the door within a few minutes. To my horror, the lock wouldn't budge.

I could immediately feel the stall shrink to half its size as I jiggled the lock furiously back and forth. Folding my shirt around my hand I tried again, using all my strength. I started to sweat. "Help" I called feebly trying the lock again. I looked up hoping to see a gap between the sides of the stall and ceiling, enough to climb over. It was a solid wall, I was completely closed in. Fighting back tears I sat on the floor knocking on the door at sporadic intervals hoping someone would hear me. 

Minutes ticked away and no one raised the alarm basing assumptions on my history of lengthy bathroom visits. As my family ate and talked I felt more alone in the stall thoughts of abandonment swirling in my head. 

20 minutes later mum had finally noticed my absence. I remained on the cold floor, my tummy growling as thoughts turned to the dishes that were now being served and what I'd have to eat if I was forced to stay in the stall forever. 

Just as I lost hope I heard a faint knock on the door."Lesley, are you ok in there" relief coursed through my body as I sprung up and called through the door "I'm locked in mum, help me". After what mum assures me was not a snigger I heard her fumble with the lock, swearing under her breath. "Hang on Les, I'll get you out". I waited for what felt like ages as I heard all sorts of strange sounds emanating from outside the door. All of a sudden the lock gave a jerk and gave way as the door was wrenched open. 

There stood mum, a knife in one hand and the lock in the other. I fell into her arms close to tears and she led me back out to the table, pausing once to hand a waitress the lock saying something about the fact it may belong to them. 

We finished our mongolian beef and fried rice then left and never returned. So my advice for this week is simple, when going to a public toilet - always look for your emergency exists and have a knife handy, because you never know when your visit could turn into a stay. 

Dedicated to other bathroom readers ^_^

Stronger than blood

SISTER

Throughout my life you've always been 

My bestest friend and enemy

We've played, done trades and shared it all

You've taught me more than I recall 

We think the same and look it too

When I got sick it passed to you

I know your secrets

and you know mine

All your freckles

Every laugh line 

I know what you'd say 

and what you'd do 

I know you so well  

I can mimic you 

There's things in life

that go unsaid 

so I thought I'd write them down instead

I love you more than you could know

no matter what you do 

or where you go

I'm always here

my little one

Proud of everything 

you've been and done

Down in the Deep

THE SEA

The waters deep 

The sea bed far

bellow the waves

that crash afar

The light filtered

like christmas lights

that twinkle shyly through the night

I feel so free

yet all around 

the waters press

as I've been bound 

I listen hard 

for sounds that might 

allude to signs of other life

Instead the only sound I hear

a distant humming in my ears

Then in the corner of my eye

a flash of colour shoots right by

But now the breath 

that once I took 

is fading fast

no time to look 

I reach above and kick bellow

until I see the surface glow

I break right through 

then dive back down 

There still much more

that must be found

Expect a few more poems over the next few weeks... I recently found my year 9 journal and some of them aren't half bad ^_^

Hope you all had a fantastic weekend and the dads of Australia had a great fathers day! 

Afternoon activities

Didn't quite make it within the week, but I'd say one day late isn't too bad :) 

Don't get me wrong, being raised primarily by a single lawyer mother who spent years fighting for a spot in the industry, gave me a strong understanding of women's rights and the occasional tendency to act on blind feminist rage, but even I know that there are some things girls can not, and should not do. I take you now, to a sunny afternoon after school, and a little too much Milo, to when my sister and I discovered one such activity. 

I blame the school , we had been learning japanese that term and had been recently shown a video on Sumo wrestling, that (coupled with a few videos on male bonding) had made us aware of the chest bump ritual. An action commonly seen amongst pro sports jocks, large territorial animals and people that are completely off their head. It involves two individuals running towards each other, leaping in the air with chests out, and slamming their torso's into one another to then fall back hopefully in a stance position. This can then be followed by a celebratory high five.... or a trip to the emergency ward. 

Well blame it on the fresh air, or too much sugar, Alex and I decided to give it a go. Now before you make assumptions I would just like to point out that we are not completely stupid, we did decide to have a practice run with pillows. We started by both holding a pillow against our chest, learning quickly that it was important to full commitment to the act, otherwise the result was a mess of arms and legs. Then, similar to a game of musical chairs, we threw a pillow away and continued. This was met with mild success, we were fast learners, so bracing ourselves, we moved onto faze three.

Having discarded both pillows and taken a few more steps apart to insure maximum run up potential, we counted down to impact. THREE. TWO. ONE. We were of, running at full tilt, screaming like men on helium, getting closer with every second. counting down to impact, we were close enough to touch, to hug. insert screeching sound here. We chickened out moments before impact. We started laughing, at this point I'm not sure if it was at the fact we bailed or the absurdness of the situation. Which ever it was it did not deter us, and after a good laugh we decided to try again, pinky swearing our allegiance to the cause. 

One, Two, Three, we took steps back, forever keeping eye contact. This time we were ready, visualizing the pillows, we counted down. THREE. TWO.....Two, and a half.. two and three quuuuarters... two and.... we had run out of fractions, there was nothing for it RUN we did... closer, and closer, our feet pounded the lounge room floor, one second till impact, I could see the beads of seat on her face, half a second.. there was nothing for it, I shut my eye's and braced myself. NOW leaping into the air we slammed into each other with enough force to knock down a small elephant. I felt my bones shatter, and my boobs become concave. I fell to the floor dazed and sore, trying to breath. Eye's closed and lying still on the floor I called out to her... "Alex.... you dead"? 

"No", came a small reply... "but I think my boobs are". 

So my female readers, I write this as a cautionary tale. Sure, your all strong, intelligent and independent women who don't need men to complete you. But the next time a guy tells you that women can't do everything men can do, stop, think about Alex and I, and tell him honestly, Your right... we have boobs. 

Until next week... or later this week really ^_^ 

TITANIC

Hey everyone, sorry this comes so late, its been absolutely hec.. ok I'm going to stop myself there, there's really no excuse for how lazy I've been with the blog. But lets move on, shoulda, coulda woulda and I'm gonna right now. 

So I chose this story for a couple of reasons. One, its a bit of a funny one which I thought would be fun to read and two, the most recent drawing I did was based on the sea so I can cheat and use it (just between you and me). 

little side note - my fingers are flying over the keys, its funny, I always seem to dread writing, putting it of till the last minute, only to re-discover how much I like doing it everytime I begin again.  

Now for the story, I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before about the summers I would spend in the country in Lemon tree with my mums family. For those new comers though (First of, Welcome) just a little back story, my mum grew up with her family in Lemon tree, a rough but friendly little town that still has a few dirt roads, a quant Marina my granddad actually owned at one stage and was proud to receive their first helicopter pad the year before last. We'd usually stay for a couple of weeks (longer if we were successful in begging mum to go home without us) at our Auntie's house who'd spoil us rotten as the two girls she always wished she'd had. Instead she married a 6 foot 7 Train engineer and had two equally tall boys that would rather lick a toilet seat than do anything remotely girly. 

So for a few weeks out of every year we'd shed our shoes, don a hat and spend the days riding, playing, watching tv (something that was banned at home) eating a ridiculous amount of two minute noodles and being treated like absolute princesses. If your starting to imagine a heaven like place full of no worries, no responsibilities and constant fun, you wouldn't be far off Lemon tree. In fact on arrival, after an attempt to uphold the structured routine we'd lived with through the year or asking if we were allowed a treat, we'd get "Your not in Sydney anymore, remember it's Lemon tree, you can do what ever you want - no worries" Like our own personal "hakuna matata" 

I'll go into more on another entry but to round this up I'll tell you about one of our favourite games. Down on the beach, the one a minutes walk from the house we found an old tinny (little row boat) that was badly beaten. Feeling as though we'd just discovered buried treasure we decided to adopt it as our own. Now before you start to relay a sweet little montage of us fixing the boat up ala the birth of Chitty Chitty bang bang and other such nostalgic uplifting films, we instead flipped it over, grabbed some sticks and beat the boat to death. Once it had a few more holes in it (and some small dents curtesy of my and my sisters attempts) we dragged it out to the middle of the bay, climbed in... and sank it. 

Right now your probably horrified, but before you file me away under delinquent hear the rest. After singing the theme tune to Titanic and letting the boat sink to the bottom (an act that took about 2 minutes) we then spent the next 2 hours pulling it from the depths and dragging it back to shore... We repeated this process roughly 4 times that day until my auntie called us in to tea. The next day, you guessed it, we began again... in fact that boat was rescued more times in the week than all the boats in the marina from the last 20 years put together. We loved that boat more than it had ever been loved, because it wasn't just a little tinny to us, it was adventure and imagination in its purest form... and that was what Lemon Tree was all about. 

Hakuna Matata everyone ^_^