Remembering what I've forgotten...

This week I received a piece of advice that I am never likely to forget. She looked me in the eyes and said something no-one else ever has:
“It seems to me that you spend far too much of your time doing, maybe life is actually about being.”

Which made me think; what are the memories that are going to stick with me? It’s certainly not going to be my GPA or whether I score an excellent internship. The things that I’m going to remember aren’t the same ones that appear on my resume.

It’s going to be different things entirely that I hold onto:
Lying in a bed of hundreds of balloons giggling with Jade on his 21st birthday.
Singing Ke$ha’s “Dinosaur” with my little sister in the car, laughing at how stupid the lyrics are.
The time that mum started laughing in the cinema and couldn’t stop. The three of us clutching our stomachs, tears running down our cheeks while the people around us tittered in annoyance.
It’s the book that I can’t put down. The song that captures exactly how I’m feeling. The movie that has me sobbing openly.

Life isn’t suppose to be serious. Somehow I’ve lost my grasp on that. I’ve been so busy trying to find myself, that I’ve forgotten to look in the most obvious place.

But I’m starting to remember now; I’m the girl who laughs at everyone’s jokes. The girl who stood in the sun for 11 hours because she believes in something. The girl who loves to be kissed on the forehead. The girl who bought a Jacob Black shirt and proudly wears it to bed. The girl who tells everyone with a serious look that she has a crush on Kevin Rudd. I’m the girl who wears the same pair of earrings to Brisbane everyday because the person who gave them to her is so important that they make her feel safe.

Perhaps I never lost myself. Perhaps what I lost was perspective.

Ehmm, Julia Gillard can I have a word?

I wanted you to know something; I do not like you.

I have tried, I really have, but I haven't had any success. There are certainly things that I can respect about you. I appreciate that you are Australia's first female Prime Minister. Considering that little over 200 years ago women weren’t even enfranchised, this is an amazing, inspiring feat. I also respect how well media trained you are, although this is more thanks to your media team then yourself. I also very much liked you calling Tony Abbott “naïve”. Honestly, those are the only things that I can think of.

There are too many reasons that I don’t like you. It does not matter what you tell me about Kevin Rudd, I am physically pained thinking about your mutiny. I do not care if he was an autocratic leader, I do not care if his policies were misguided or not well justified and I certainly do not care that he did not have the support of the factions. Here’s the thing Gillard, you betrayed Kevin Rudd in a big, unforgivable way. You opened my eyes to a side of politics, a side of my party, that I hate.

I have some other issues that I would like to discuss with you. For instance, I don’t appreciate the “race to the middle” on policies. I’m tired of hearing “moving forward.” Also when you explained that people smugglers are “evil people” I was on the verge of repeatedly hitting my head against the wall. Really Gillard? It physically pains me that someone that close minded is running my country.

I have been told that my view on politics is anything but “pragmatic” (*shudder*). Unfortunately this is how I feel Gillard and I doubt there is anything you can do to change this.

What I would like you to know is that I will be voting Labor on election day. But unlike the rest of the country, my vote will not be based on party leadership (heaven knows who I’d give my vote to if that was the case). I will vote Labor because I genuinely want the candidate for my electorate to win. I will be ticking Chris Cumming’s box because, unlike yourself, I will be illustrating solidarity through supporting my party’s members.

Good luck Gillard. I sure hope you win this election or you are going to have a hell of a lot of regrets.

Dearest old friend...

It has been a long time. The words "I've missed you" sit at the tip of my tongue. I wonder, if I did speak them, whether either of us would believe me.

There was a time when you were the centre of my universe, I orbitted you like a satellite. You coveted me for yourself, and I? Well I certainly didn't object. I relished your constant scrutiny and contempt. I devoted myself to winning your ever unattainable approval. Our friendship was turmulous and intense. Not a moment passed in which I was not wrapped in your influence. Together we hated, desired and destroyed. Yet, remained inextricably linked.

When I think about our short shared past, I do so with a whimsical smile. Does this surprise you? My memories aren't tainted with the red hot abhorrence that coloured our time. I recognise you as an important, essential part of my past. No matter how hard I try to escape you will always be apart of me. Enscribed deeply at the heart of everything I do.

I write of you in past tense. Yet your haunting the corners of my life once more. I'm not surprised to see you. No more then you are that you have returned. I accept your return. I understand that it doesn't matter how long your absence spans you will always reappear.

So here we go again. Know however that things are different then they were. Much. As we shuffle to rediscover where each of this fit do know this. I'm not the same person that I was then.

I suppose I should say at least this, welcome back.

I'm all about instant gratification

Day One: So today is my first of thirty days without chocolate. On my Life List I included the goal "(20.) Go a whole 30 days without eating chocolate". Before today the longest I've ever gone without chocolate is probably about two weeks. I'm not sure how I'm going to go.

I only hope that if I have a breakdown and find myself unable to survive the cravings I retain my dignity. That is to say that I have my fingers crossed that this doesn't result in my taking up residence in Woolworth's confectionary ailse, stuffing my face with stolen chocolate bars while making suggestive noises in delight.

*Deep Breath* but that shouldn't happen. I hope. Well here goes nothing.

Day Two: Came this close to ruining the whole thing. Yes, I am telling you that I almost couldn't go TWO DAYS without chocolate!

In my defense it was more of a slip of mind. I woke up at 7 to get ready for work. Stumbled bleary eyed into the kitchen in search of food. Not finding any I decided to make a hot chocolate. I had the cup warming my hands and almost at my lips when I realised.

It was a sad moment to watch it pour down the sink.

Day Three: Surprisingly easy after yesterdays almost mishap.

Day Four: Even easier today!

Day Five: Ridiculously easy! Perhaps I should amend it to "30 days without junk food" so it is actually a challenge?

Day Six: You know what I like? Katy Perry's California Gurls film clip.
(See, thats how easy this is. I'm not even thinking about chocolate!)

P.S I just watched the film clip again. Change my mind. All of those lollies and chocolate bars definitely has me thinking about chocolate.

Day Seven:
Oops.

Let me paint you a picture:
Me: *standing at the coffee machine at work*
Co-worker: Rachael? Will you set up the fudge machine for me? I've never done it before. You're so supremely excellent that your bound to know how.
Me: Well seeing as I'm not only excellent but also benevolent and lovely I will certainly set up the fudge machine.
(I'm paraphrasing here...)

After three attempts I manage to get all of the pieces in the correct order and have it functioning. I then spoon the thick, creamy fudge into it and switch it on. Carrying the spoon and empty bowl to the sink, my mouth waters as the chocolatey smell fills my nostrils. Acting on instinct I dip my finger into the remanants of the fudge in the bowl. My tastebuds sing a course of "hallelujah" as I lick the thick fudge off my finger.

Me: Mmm chocolate. Hang on. S*** chocolate!

Day One Here we go again...

The realisation that my employers are benevolent people...

The fact that I have my manual licence is something that I try to keep quiet at work. I've had my provisional licence for almost a year in that time I've driven a manual car, well, never. The minute I passed my test I decided I was only going to drive automatic cars. This is an oath that I've maintained- except for the odd occassion I've had to drive the work ute. The few times that this has occurred have all been traumatic experiences. Blurs of embarrassing stalls, clutch dumps and my inability to turn off its handbreak.

So when my manager came to ask me whether I'd take the rubbish to the compactor. I shuddered.


Me: Uhmm. Sure. You couldn't find anyone else?
Manger: *small smile* Sorry you're the only one I have. How confident are you about driving the ute? About 90 per cent?
Me: About 60?
Manager: *bigger smile* we'll say you're 75 per cent confident. I'll take over what you're doing. Me: *stifles a sigh. Begins to walk away*
Manager: Oh Rachael? I'm not saying that you will run out of petrol, but the empty light is on, so...


I retrieved the keys, a radio and the new girl to accompany me. The trip to the compactor went surprisingly well. I didn't stall once. I didn't run anyone over and I bonded with the new girl.


Every employee is compactor trained during their induction. We're shown how to afix a wheelie bin to the compactor and how to mechanically lift it to empty its contents. The truth is, however, that after being trained noone ever goes to the effort. Reality is that we completely skip the wheelie bin part and throw the garbage bags straight in.

This isn't usually a problem. Every time I've taken the rubbish I've had a man come with me. Men who were stronger then either me or new girl. Thus we were forced to use the wheelie bin manouever.


Between both of our limited knowledge we were able to attach the wheelie bin and use a big medal lever to pick it up. What we weren't able to do was convince the bin lid to open so that the rubbish would slide out. After five minutes of us readjusting the position of the bin, it still would not empty.


We were looking at each other in frustration.
New girl: Maybe you need to tip it up further?
Me: I'm worried about doing that though. I don't want to be the person who manages to drop the wheelie bin into the compactor.


My advice? In a situation such as this, never say something like that. Fate heard me and literally giggled in delight. A heartbeat after I spoke those words, sure enough
the bin tumbled straight into the compactor.


Rumour has it that the compactor was broken after that and had to be taken away.


I was convinced that I was going to get fired. I held my breath for three days afterwards, ducking behind walls or into coldrooms whenever I saw one of the girls from human resources.


On the third day, I was feeling a little more confident and confessed to a couple of my collegues what had happened. Almost all of the conversations followed the same general path.
Me: So, I broke the compactor.
Them: *laughs* I heard about that. Was that you? What'd you do?
Me: I dropped a wheelie bin it.
Them: Oh yeah? I've done that at least four times. Did you climb in after it?
Me: Did I climb into the compactor? What?! No?!
Them: Yeah, that's what I do. At least you'll know what to do next time.
Me: Next time?!


I've heard my fellow employees make many complaints about my employer. But you've really got to hand it to them, they sure are forgiving...

Good job Kevin Rudd. I, for one, will grieve you.

What I’ve realised over the last 24 hours is just how deeply my passion for politics goes. It is a passion that has been blooming slowly. Reading through old journals I laugh every time I see my childish scribbling detailing the outcomes of elections. I enrolled in University with the intention to study Journalism. I wanted to report Politics- an extension of what I’d been doing since I could write! After taking a single politics course- and with a push in the right direction from my tutors- I decided reporting wasn’t enough. I want to be involved.


This dream has altered over time. But if anybody asks what my ambition is my response is simple “I’m going to be Kevin Rudd’s press secretary.” This goal sticks, Prime Minister or not. He has been one of my key inspirations. I have a hard time understanding and accepting his demise. He was, for more than two years, the most popular Prime Minister in Australian history. That is ever, guys. In case you missed that. I can’t believe that a party could turn on a member as brutally as they have. Perhaps I missing something, but I was feeling very confident about Kevin Rudd’s prospects. Now? I’m feeling very pessimistic. Not to mention a little sour. As much as I want us to win, as loyal to my party as I am; if the election is a loss you can’t say that we didn’t deserve it.


Despite this distaste as a Political Science major and a Labor party member I’m feeling hugely inspired. There’s little denying that the events of last night and this morning are the most exciting to occur in politics of my young life. (Second only to the election of Kevin Rudd, but I appreciate not everybody will second this opinion). If only this had happened at the start of the semester! I want to know more, I want to do more, I want to be more involved. If I had doubts about completing a year of honors I’m feeling much more spurred on!


Over the last three years I’ve encountered a lot of negativity towards politics and my interest in it. This has come from a number of places; strangers who ask what degree I’m studying, friends, extended family members even my University colleagues. But those closest to me have always supported me; whether or not they can comprehend where my interest has come from. I’d like to say “without being offensive”, but it’s my blog so I’ll write whatever I feel like: people who say that politics is boring or make derogative comments about it are uneducated gits. Even if you’re not interested there’s no getting around the fact that it is important. The same people that are commenting on it have absolutely no idea. I read a status on Facebook today that said something along the lines “Kevin Rudd is a pussy. Man up and finish your term.” I know. I couldn’t believe it either.


While I go back to grieving for my long-time hero I’ll be keeping this in mind; if I work hard enough and commit myself enough next time I’ll be in the midst of it. Not reading about it on social networking sites.

This is for you...

I’m not a person of very much faith. I’m too cynical, rely too heavily on fact. But when I think about my life and the people that I have in it I truly believe that I am blessed.



There is little denying that what we’re all searching for is love. We all want to find that one romance that conquers all others. A person that we can connect with. We search for passion, understanding and beyond anything else we all seek acceptance.



I’ve experienced love in a great number of forms. And I’ve experienced an equal amount of loss. However I think that it is important to lose people. It’s a pain that can exceed any other, one that you will carry around with you. But if you can’t understand how much it hurts to lose, how can you know to appreciate love? If you don’t bleed how can you be sure that you are truly alive?



Love can be many different things. Butterflies dancing around in your chest. Anticipation that rolls circles around your stomach. The sheer disbelief that the person of your affections sees something within you that you can not.



But I think that a true love can be something else entirely. Something solid, something tangible, something that you can rest your head on. While passion and romance are significant, there is more to be experienced. What I have learnt, through an often perilous journey, is that love is about trust. Being able to blindly believe in another person. To be able to hand them your entire heart and trust that they will keep it in good condition. It’s about understanding. Knowing that some days they’re going to be in a bad mood, sometimes they need the space to breathe and that at times they need extra attention. It’s about acceptance. It is about someone accepting you’re silliness, eagerness to please and days of melancholy. Accepting them not as faults; but simply as a part of who you are.



I spend too much of time feeling anxious about the future and too little appreciating the present. Because after all the present is all we really have. I have a boy in my present who has taught me how to laugh at myself. A boy who, despite his strong desire for independence, has learnt to rely on me. A boy for whom I would sacrifice everything; but who will never ask me to. My present is centred around a boy who I love. A love that is tangible and huge.

Things to do before I die...

With university finally finished I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about what I actually want to do with my life. The idea that I may never get a chance to do all the things that I want to do is equal parts overwhelming and terrifying.


So I made a list. It seemed like the only practical way to go about it.


So here you are. These are the things that I am going to do before I die:


(1.) Write a novel (05/08/2011) Publish a novel (03/08/2013)
(2.) Go horse back riding (09/04/2010)
(3.) Read 70 books in one year. (2010) Read 100 books in one year (2013)
(4.) Graduate University
(5.) Run a 5km fun run  (2014)
(6.) Make a scrap book (29/01/2012)
(7.) Own 10,000 books in a personal collection
(8.) Meet 3 of my absolute hero’s (1. Sheryl McMahon 02/06/2013)
(9.) Visit the Eiffel tower
(10.) Go to Disney World
(11.) Eat American pizza in America
(12.) Watch a game of soccer in England
(13.) Grow my hair until it reaches my lower back
(14.) Adopt a puppy (11/2012 Noodle, 07/2013 Ash.)
(15.) Own my own house
(16.) Be able to communicate in French
(17.) Eat snails
(18.) Eat stuffed mushroom
(19.)Go a whole 30 days without chocolate (26/10 – 26/11)
(20.) Have a baby
(21.) Visit every state and territory of Australia – ACT, QLD , NT, NSW , VIC, TAS, SA, WA
(22.) Go Zorbing
(23.) Go to 10 different zoo’s
1. Australia Zoo 01/07/2010)
2. Taronga Zoo 07/12)
3.Canberra National Zoo (13/09/2013)
(24.) Purchase something from Victoria Secret (05/12/2011)
(25.) Do the bridge walk at Sydney Harbor Bridge
(26.) Attend a professional ballet company performance (completed: 25/06/2010)
(27.)Be drunk
(28.) Shoot a gun
(29.) Go on a 6 hour road trip
(30.) Cook something using a blow torch, like on Master Chef
(31.) Live to 100 years old
(32.) See a US president in person
(33.) See “Hotel Sorrento” performed live
(34.) See “Rent” performed live by professionals
(35.) See “Cats” performed live by professionals
(36.) Grow sunflowers
(37.) Hold a dinner party and cook a four course meal
(38.) Be hands on, on a political campaign (2009)
(39.) Get married
(40.) Ride an elephant
(41.) Feed an Elephant (completed: 01/07/2010)
(42.) Swim with dolphins
(43.) Feed a dolphin
(44.) Learn basic Reflexology
(45.) Practice yoga once a week for 6 months
(46.) Have a white Christmas
(47.) Climb Mt. Coolum (11/11/2011)
(48.) Do 100 hours volunteer work
(49.) Take pictures in a photo booth (05/08/2011)
(50.) Dine in the dark like at Opaque in San Francisco
(51.) See “Ellen” live
(52.) Do jury duty
(53.) Finally own a copy of “Hotel Sorrento”
(54.) Read “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov(completed: July 2010).
(55.) Read 2 entire novels in one day (14/03/2014)
(56.) Overcome my hatred of salad (13/09/2012)
(57.) Receive a package (completed: 03/12/2010. Thank you Dee!)
(58.) Play a game of hockey (20/03/2011)
(59.) Have a picnic
(60.) Celebrate a solstice/equinox in a traditional pagan way
(61.) Watch Sheryl McMahon play live (02/06/2013)
(62.) Mail Christmas cards to at least 10 people
(63.) Write an Autobiography
(64.) Write an article/column for a magazine or newspaper
(65.) Stand on the roof a building with at least 100 stories
(66.) Go jetskiing
(67.) Knit something (06/2013)
(68.) Make a quilt
(69.) Go scuba diving
(70.) Have a birthday celebration for myself
(71.) Go to the Ekka (Completed: August 2010).
(72.) Celebrate 10 anniversary’s by giving traditional gifts
(73.) Get a photo taken with a python (Completed: 01/07/2010).
(74.) Make love in a pool
(75.) Donate more than $100 to charity
(76.) Go to the Melbourne Cup
(77.) Go Whale watching
(78.) Own an environmentally concerned car
(79.) Take Mum and Danielle to a health spa
(80.) Get a pedicure
(81.) Learn to Ski (11/09/2013)
(82.) Get a Brazilian wax
(83.) Hold a monkey
(84.) Be kissed by a seal (completed: 05/12/2010)
(85.) Drive 150km/h
(86.) Get a tattoo (completed: 18/11/2010)
(87.) Ride in a helicopter
(88.) Get acupuncture
(89.) Pat a giraffe (completed: 07/12/2010)
(90.) See the “Mona Lisa”
(91.) Jump off a water fall
(92.) Ride in a hot air balloon
(93.) Buy each of my family members something they couldn’t afford for themselves (1. Mum Cirque du Soliel tickets. 2. Jade Turtle Aquarium set up)
(94.) Watch Queensland win a State of Origin match live
(95.) Ride in a gondola in Venice
(96.) Order room service (completed: 08/12/2010)
(97.) Tour old and new parliament house (New: 13/09/2013)
(98.) See a wild squirrel
(99.) Eat a Hamburger in 5 different countries
1. Australia
2.
3.
4.
5.
(100.) Do a first aid course
(101.) Tour the White House
(102.) Mow a lawn
(103.) Be a grandma
(104.) Fly first class
(105.) Change a tire (13/10/2013)
(106.) Learn coffee art
(107.) Do a high ropes course
(108.) Teach
(109.) Eat an oyster (28/12/2010)
(110.) Taste truffles
(111.) Make a snow angel (10/09/2013)
(112.) Be part of a world record
(113.) Drive through a car wash (2012)
(114.) Go to the daffodil fields at Carterton
(115.) Ride shotgun in a convertible
(116.) Lick, sip, suck a shot of tequila (16/08/2012)
(117.) Go to River Fire
(118.) Grow a mulberry tree
(119.) Dip my toes in a loch in Scotland
(120.) Quote Shakespeare at his birthplace
(121.) Spend a month overseas
(122.) Eat at Wendy’s burger chain
(123.) Shop at Harrods
(124.) Take a photo with an English Guard
(125.) See the Cirque du soleil (15/07/2011)
(126.) See the Colloseum
(127.) Visit Stonehenge
(128.) Conquer a rock climbing wall (30/09/2013)
(129.) Swim at Bondi Beach
(130.) Go to question time at House of Representatives
(131.) Own an I love NY t-shirt
(132.) Visit a butterfly house
(133.) Milk a cow
(134.) Go 24 hours without speaking
(135.) Have my fortune told (30/01/2011)
(136.) Find out my blood type
(137.) Go to a concert that Jade wants to see (10/06/2012)
(138.) Pet an otter
(139.) Swim with a seal (30/01/2011)
(140.) Conquer the aqualoop at Wet and Wild (12/2012)
(141.) Taste something red velvet flavoured (05/12/2011)
(142.) Play Glee drinking game (09/06/2011)
(143.) Feng shui a room
(144.) Go to a strip club (04/12/2011)
(145.) Bake a cheesecake
(146.) Ride a bungy bullet type ride
(147.) Make a grand gesture
(148.) Play with penguins (05/12/2011)
(149.) Visit Vatican City
(150.) Go paragliding
(151.) Get a boob job
(152.) Cook my way through an entire cookbook
(153.) Visit a planetarium
(155.) Random acts of kindness month
(156.) Drive the south island of New Zealand
(157.) Go to Boston
(158.) Take a burlesque class
(159.) Read "Eat, Pray, Love" (31/05/2013)
(160.) Drink a pina colada (04/06/2013)
(161.) Attend a high tea (10/05/2013)
(162.) Go to a Taylor Swift concert (07/12/2013)
(163.) Get a cut and colour that I love (16/03/2013)
(164.) See the Niagra Falls
(165.) Go to the Grand Canyon
(166.) Own a pair of designer sunglasses (15/11/2013)
(167.) Eat lobster
(168.) Ride a camel
(169.) Ride on the South Bank ferris wheel at Brisbane (20/06/2013)
(170.) Ride in a limo
(171.) See the Australian Ballet / Queensland Ballet perform
(172.) Do a "Yes Man" day
(173.) Watch 1,000 movies
(174.) Make 1,000 paper cranes and make a selfless wish
(175.) Have more then my salary in savings
(176.) Go to Lake Hillier in Western Australia
(177.) Visit a Cadbury Factory
(178.) Croc cage of death
(179.) White water rafting
(180.) Go to a Commonwealth or Olympic Games sporting event
(181.) Horse riding on the beach
(182.) Go out for Tappas
(183.) See a Kodiak bear
(184.) Drink Sangria
(185.) Take an "Oh What a Feeling" photo
(186.) Study interior design
(187.) Knit an afghan
(188.) Get a henna tattoo (23/03/2014)
(189.) Weigh 50kgs
(190.) Start a push pin world map
(191.) Swim in an infinity pool
(192.) See turtle hatchlings head into the ocean
(193.) Gold panning
(194.) Jet boating
(195.) Buy something from IKEA
(196.) See Romeo and Juliet performed live
(197.) Eat street food at Central Park NY
(198.) Eat a fresh pomegranate
(199.) Play two-up on Anzac Day
(200.) Read 1 million pages 

...and if you can find them. Maybe you can hire the A Team! Heck Yeah!

I don’t usually watch action movies, as a rule. Unless I’m getting something out of it, that is. For instance I sat through Iron Man 2 with the promise that his-self would return the favour and accompany me to Letters to Juliet.


So you can imagine his surprise when I suggested we see The A-Team. I’ll admit my interest stemmed from Mr. T’s starring in the Snickers ad’s. Whenever I feel someone needs encouragement I do not hesitate in yelling “Arghh! Get some nuts!” I was hugely interested in finding out how this line was born.

So tonight we went and saw The A-Team. I was not sure how I was going to feel about it. But I was not disappointed!

I was not at all convinced about the choice of Quentin ‘Rampage’ Jackson to play B.A Baracus. He can fight, yeah? But can he act? I was sceptical. Also with Mr. T as his predecessor he had some big boots to fill. I left converted; and with a full-fledged crush on Rampage. He might even find me to tuning into UFC next time it’s on television!

Jessica Biel’s character Charisa Sosa helped make the movie for me. She was tough, smart, sexy and the object of desire of a super hot guy. Isn’t that how we all dream to be?

The movie was humour, explosion scenes and drama thrown in to a mixing bowl and given a good stir. The result was unbeatable.

As a girl who yawns through gun scenes, let me advise you that even if you are a romantic comedy sort of person; go and see it!

I’d also like to suggest that Bradley Cooper and Jessica Biel consider getting together. They would have very pretty babies.

The Stumbling Blocks Encountered in Finding Oneself

What I’ve discovered over the last month is that I’m very bad at being honest about who I am. Not many people actually know me. Out of all the people that I talk to, work with or know from university; only two or three actually know who I am.


I do this on purpose. I keep everybody around me at arms length. Because if people don’t know me, they can’t judge me.


I’m like this with writing as well. Writing is more then something that I’m passionate about, it’s how I define myself. It’s the very essence of who I am. Yet I have a hard time being honest about it. I’ve always wanted to be an author, ever since I was young. Since that impressionable age people told me that writing is not a respectable career. Maybe because of this I’ve always been shy about sharing my writing. It’s not until recently that I’ve found myself admitting it. Jade, a person who knows me better then just about anyone else, looked at me in surprise when I confessed that what I want to achieve more then anything is to write a novel.


I haven’t written many posts on this blog, not really. Yet I can feel myself growing with everything that I post. Becoming more confident, taking ownership of who I am. What is more, is that the large amount of time I vest in reading other people’s blogs is helping as well. It constantly amazes me how connected I can feel to complete strangers. I read their posts and think “Wow, that sums up exactly how I’m feeling right now.”


I’m not sure that it occurs to me that people may actually read what I’m posting on here. I’m surprised every time somebody says “So, I was reading your blog…” When I do think about it I think that I shouldn’t be writing posts like these, I should be writing the silly little anecdotes I’ve taken to posting. Things that people might enjoy reading. But I don’t think it works like this. I started this as a form of expression and I’m going to write what I feel at any point in time. Someone close to me expressed their concern that I’m being to personal. I hope that’s not the case. I hope that I’m not offending anyone. But this is me. It feels good to finally share that.

A review: The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner

I’m usually very up-to-date with when authors that I read are releasing books. However, just in case a book sneaks up on me, I visit Angus and Robertson’s at least once a week to scop out new releases. (I don’t care if this isn’t a socially acceptable activity. Angus and Robertson’s is my happy place. Whenever I’m in a bad mood who ever I’m with warily suggests a trip to the store. Give me five minutes of inhaling new book smell and I’m smiley faced again.)


Despite my vigilance a book has in fact snuck up on me. On a walk past Angus and Robertson’s yesterday my mum was all “Hey! Look at that! A new Stephenie Meyer book!” Right she was. Thus I spent the good part of last night reading “The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner”.


I finished it this afternoon and I have mixed feelings about it. It’s written as an Eclipse novella and does a very good job at telling an unexpected side of the story. Following a largely marginal character through her own experiences of what it was like to be a new born vampire on a mission to destroy the Cullen’s. As can be expected from Stephenie Meyer the characterisation was excellent. Bree was very real and very easy to relate to.


However there were an equal number of things I didn’t like about it. Firstly there were no chapters. I can understand why they made that decision. It’s only about 200 pages and its set over a very short period of time. But it makes reading the story tedious. It would have benefited from being broken up into chapters. It lacked Meyer’s trade mark ambience. While I can accept that it was written in a different style to the Twilight series the language was dumb-ed down to a point that was a little insulting. I’m still very much in the intended age group, give us a break teenage girls understand words!


If you’re a Twilight fan I’d definitely suggest reading it. I feel a little disappointed though. Maybe Meyer could have focused her energy on finishing Midnight Sun? Because I’m literally salivating with the urge to read it.

A lonely winters night is only enjoyable when you have a good book as company

I’m suffering a little from writers block at the moment. If you haven’t experienced it imagine trying to suck a roast meal through a straw. Unpleasant, exhausting and the parts you manage to get up the straw aren’t the enjoyable bits.


So with that part of me on the blink I rely more heavily on my other favourite activity, like leaning on a crutch. Reading. I have consumed more books over the last few weeks then I have in months. I am literally finishing a novel a day. This is helped by the fact that I’m re-reading, for possibly the seventh or eight time, Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series.


I was a lonely kid, sometimes by choice, sometimes circumstance. As a result the majority of my childhood was spent lost in either my own dreamed up fantasy worlds, or those created by others. This is what I love about the Stephanie Plum series. I can so easily get lost in the world that Janet Evanovich creates for me. Forget my own. This is what I resort to at my lowest moments: the awfulness that accompanied my final year at high school, the break up of a year long relationship, the death of my grandfather and bouts of depression.


The series follows it’s main character Stephanie Plum’s antics. She is a less then successful bounty hunter with a knack for running in to trouble. It’s almost a relief that, no matter that she is fictional, whatever stupid thing I have done that day she can trump it. I am in love with Janet Evanoich’s wit, light hearted humour and superior writing ability.


Considering the copious amount that I read I’m extraordinarily picky when it comes to books. I have been known to put a book down if I’m not impressed by its first few sentences. The fact that I have read this series so many times and am likely to continue to do so is the highest compliment I can give. If anyone’s interested in experiencing it the books for themselves the first one is One for the Money and is found in the crime section. Consider yourselves converted.


If you’ll excuse me I think I’ll be off, Fearless Fourteen awaits me.

My dog can do many wonderous things. Unlocking the car door from the inside? Not one of them.

I’m not sure what it is about me, but what should be simple tasks always turn into epic adventures. This was certainly the case today.


Honey needed to go to the vet this morning and I volunteered to take her. She’s a 15-year-old German Shepard cross and I love her to bits. We got her when I was five so I guess it’s fair to say we grew up together. She slept on the end of my bed every night until she decided she was too old to jump up anymore.


The last time I accompanied her to the vet she was very sick and all curled up on the front seat of my car. That was not the case this morning. This morning she was very excited and keen for adventure.


With the right background music convincing Honey to get in to the car would have made quite a funny black-and-white chase scene. I let her in to the house with the intention to fix her to her lead, only to turn around to find her gone. I poked my head out the front door to see her running to down the driveway, closely followed by mum who was yelling at her to stop. Never mind that Honey is completely deaf.


It took some convincing but I finally managed to manoeuvre Honey in to the car. I breathed a sigh of relief, only to find that she wouldn’t give up that easily. I was now faced with a debate over which seat she would sit in. You see, she had decided that the driver’s seat was her choice. I however felt that I should be sitting there, me being the one with the car keys and licence. Honey didn’t agree.


Luckily with a fair amount of bargaining and promises to let her sleep on the clean laundry (her favourite past time) she acquiesced. The rest of the trip went without a hitch. It wasn’t until after paying the exuberant price for the ointment she’d been prescribed by the vet and making our way back to my car that things became… well complicated.


Honey did not want to get back in to the car. She was much too preoccupied sniffing the other animal smells, she would not be convinced. Heaving a sigh of frustration I dumped the armful of things I was carrying in to the centre console. Grabbing her around the middle, I managed to manoeuvre her squirming body in to the car. Honey hates being picked up, even as a puppy she would thrash around until you put her back on the floor. The look that she gave me as I wound the window down a turn and closed and locked the door on her could easily rival the dirty look of any human female.


As I pushed the door closed I had a niggling feeling of something not being right. I looked down at my empty hands. The passenger side door was locked. The drivers side door was locked. My keys were in the centre console. Honey was in the passenger side seat looking out at me, ears up in interest.


I felt my stomach drop, and the words “Oh shit!” scrolled across my mind marquee style. My immediate response was to call for help, my hand flying to my pocket. It was empty. My phone was in the car too. After some creative cussing I decided to take action.


The window was down just enough for me to slip my arm in up to my forearm. I tried to push it in further, just enough wind the window down a scratch. After about five minutes of this I realised it wasn’t going to be possible.


My arm was burning and Honey was still sitting on the front seat smiling out at me, clearly enjoying the show. Fingers of panic were starting to creep up my spine, tears prickling behind my eyes. As far as I could see I had two options; manage to squeeze my arm through the window or return to vet surgery and ask for help. The second option wasn’t particularly attractive, not only would it be mortifying but it would mean leaving Honey unattended.


I decided to try the arm through the window one last time. My car is the type with the lock next to the door handle rather then near the window. I realised with a little bit of feeling around I could brush the lock with my fingers, this was accompanied by a surge of hope. With a few more tries, biting my lip against the pain my arm was in, I was finally able to push the lock.


After retrieving the keys I collapsed onto the driver’s side seat shaking with adrenaline and rubbing my quickly bruising arm in self-pity.


I looked over at Honey, worried that the time alone in the car may have stressed her. The look I got in response was one that clearly summed up what she was thinking “That’s what you get for picking me up. Way to go jackass”. I can’t say that I disagree.

The unfortunate death of a mobile phone

Technology is not my forte. Give me any piece of equipment with so much as a wire in it and I guarantee that I will break it. This is not my intention; usually I am happily typing away at a computer or putting through an order on a register and the next thing I am confronted with a black screen. My dad tells me that I have sexy fingers, that is to say I screw everything I touch.


Sometimes I break things out of mindless stupidity or carelessness. My most famous case occurred when I accidentally destroyed my mobile phone.


I’m one of those people when it comes to my phone. I have it on me almost all the time. When I’m sitting on the lounge it sits beside me, when I’m driving my phone rides shotgun and at night it is snuggled next to me under my pillow. When I don’t have my phone on me I have a feeling that is uncomfortably close to compulsion.


The infamous night of the freak accident I was sitting on the lounge watching television with my late phone. Television watching was broken up intermittently with the cheery singing that my phone emitted whenever it had received a text message. (To be honest this “cheery tone” was the theme song to Thomas the Tank Engine. I’m a little bit embarrassed about this looking back. I’m much more mature then that now, I’m proud to say my ring tone is now the Adams Family).


It was during this text messaging session that I realised I had to pee. I had that feeling of despair, knowing if I were to trek to the bathroom and back I would not be able to regain the level of comfort I was currently enjoying. This resulted in an internal battle:
Me: Body I’m sorry but this is bad time for me right now. Maybe later?
Body: *Building pressure in bladder*
Me: Maybe you didn’t hear me? *speaks louder* Now is not a good time, I will visit the bathroom later.
Body: *Pressure continues to build*
Me: I’m beginning to think you are just being ignorant. Must I remind you that I control you, you do not control me.
Body: *Sharp pains in abdomen*
Me: *Jumps up and sprints to the toilet*


As I sit down I hear the musical Thomas-the-tank inspired chirping of my phone, which just happens to be clutched in my hand. I open the text and begin typing a reply as I relieve my bladder. I’m still doing so as I turn to flush the toilet.


From here on everything happens in slow motion. I reach out to press the flush button and my beloved phone slips from my grasp. It rotates comically through the air, one flip, two flip, three flips *SPLASH*. I let out a blood-curdling cry of horror. Thinking only of saving my phone I plunge my hand in after it.


It isn’t until after I pull the phone out that I realise what I’ve done. I’m dry retching and sobbing as I make my way to the sink.


My sister appears in the doorway asking what the matter is. My reply: “I just stuck my hand in my pee!”

Taking the time to reflect

Reality is starting to hit as I prepare to enrol in my final semester; no matter what I decide to do next year this chapter of my life will be over. All going to plan in under six months I will have completed my university degree.

It’s hard to believe how fast the last three years have gone and it’s hard to imagine how much I have changed. I began uni as an insecure, melancholic 17-year-old who made a last minute decision not to defer her degree. I will leave a semi-confident, almost 20-year-old who is finally secure with herself and her own attributes.

I had expectations of what university would be like. I expected it to be a bigger, scarier version of school. In which the teachers cared little about their students and assessments were stringent and difficult. The last two years of school were the worst of my life; my outlook on university was bleak. What I’ve experienced over the last three years has been nothing as I expected. The majority of my tutors and lectures have taken an interest in me, a small number of which I now consider mentors. I’ve been able to express myself and my interests throughout all of the assessments that have been set. And I’ve done better then I could have imagined.

There aren’t many people that I went to school with that I still talk too regularly. In fact there’s probably only two or three. I’m not one to hold on to relationships. Despite myself I’ve made friendships over the last few years that I sincerely hope will be life long. Is that too cliché to say? I’ve met a group of amazing, intelligent people. This is something that I did not expect.

I’m sad to be finishing. Apprehensive about what comes next. But also excited, I’m ready to conquer the rest of this semester and then the next. Ready to begin my next challenge.

I guess it is time to take that next step towards the imminent future: enrolling in semester two subjects.

I take my hypochondria on a trip to the doctors

I’m a hypochondriac. This is a condition that has been made 100 per cent worse with the ease of the internet. Today has been something of a hypochondriacs nightmare (or dream, I get a feeling of righteousness when I discover my concerns are justified).

I was at the doctors on Monday being examined thanks to exhaustion and dizzy spells. This resulted in a blood test on Tuesday and a subsequent doctor’s appointment today.

Before tutorials this morning the phone rang. I answered it to find the nurse from the doctors surgery was at the other end:
Nurse: Hi Rachael. We were wondering whether you would be able to come in today to discus your recent test results.
Me: *heart kicks in to overdrive. Oh god, I’m dieing. Or pregnant. Oh god.* Ermm, I already had an appointment booked for today? At 12?
Nurse: Ohh you do? Sorry to bother you then. We’ll see you at 12 then.

I’m confused and bothered by the phone call. Matters are made worst when I tell Jade about it. He is a fellow hypochondriac, though he’s not as comfortable admitting it as I am. His reply: “Oh god. You’re dieing. Or pregnant.”

After a morning of inner turmoil, I arrive at the doctor’s surgery only to wait 20 minutes longer then was strictly necessary. By the time the doctor calls my name I’m sweating and on the brink of hyperventilating.

The visit went as follows:
Doctor: Okay, lets check out these test results. Your full blood count looks good, everything seems to be here. Good, haemoglobins are present.
Me: *Internal sigh of relief. I have no idea what haemoglobins are but they sound important and I’m glad I have them*
Doctor: Hmm, your cholesterols up a little bit
Me: *Oh god! Heart attack! Hardening arteries!*
Doctor: You have a high level of uric acid as well. You might find this disposes you to gout in later life.
Me: *Uric acid? Will that kill me? Gout? Sounds deadly!*
Doctor: Your Iron levels are very low. Make sure that you’re taking a supplement. That explains the exhaustion.
Me: *Feeling a little calmer. This isn’t new to me. I can deal with this. Feeling a little smug, I told everyone I was feeling sick didn’t I!*
Doctor: Okay, before you go we’ll check your blood pressure. Oh dear, that is very low no wonder you’ve been dizzy.
Me: *Horror! Have no archived knowledge of this condition, must Google. Feeling even smugger. Low blood pressure huh? Maybe everyone will take me seriously now*

Once I finally leave the surgery I return to Jade in the waiting room. He’s looking pale and antsy. “What is it? Oh god, you’re dieing? You’re pregnant?”

A change in direction

I’ve had a complete change of perspective this year. Over the last three months I’ve made choices for myself that will likely send me in a direction completely different to where I thought that I wanted to go.

My grandfather died six weeks ago. It wasn’t completely unexpected; he’d been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. He was expected to live for another six months, yet he died of a heart attack. There’s probably a huge number of contributing factors to my change of mind, but I suspect that this is one of the biggest.

I guess that everybody must obsess over their mortality. I know I do. I have spent a good number of sleepless nights contemplating the big, ugliness of death. I’m not a religious person. At times like this I wish I was. It must be comforting to have faith.

What I’ve been thinking recently is that when I die, what do I want to have achieved? I found myself no longer caring if I get impeccable marks, if I go on to have an excellent career. I don’t want to be the woman that never sees her family because she spends her life working.

This isn’t a useful trail of thought to be experiencing during my final year of university. Everything is harder this year and more intense. I should be working harder, quite the opposite to what I have been doing.

I’m going to finish my degree, I’ve come to far not to. As for next year, I’m not going to stay. I intended to do honors but I’m no longer convinced that is what I want.

What I want is to start my life with Jade, something I can’t do at the moment because I spend all my time at uni and not enough time working. I want to write a book. I want to open a book café. I want to know that when I die I will have spent my life doing what I wanted to do, not what I thought that I should.

My grandfather was hugely proud of me when he was alive. He loved to tell people how well I was doing and how much I was going to achieve. I worry that this change in direction would have disappointed him.

The most embarrrassing moment of my young life

Of all the stories I could have shared I think this one will allow you to get the fullest picture of who I am.


Choosing my most embarrassing moment is actually easier then I thought. I am prone to them, in fact my life thus far has been a montage of embarrassment. I’m clumsy and have a talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time. However this was definitely a stand out.


A year or so ago, probably longer, I was invited to go to the movies with a group of friends from university. I was feeling pretty nervous about it, I hadn’t really hung out with any of them outside of uni and socialising isn’t my forte. What’s more was that I was desperate to impress one of the boys that were going; Jade Ashworth.


I spent longer deciding what to wear then I usually would have. This was my opportunity to prove that while I may have been a dork at uni, I really was cool. I intended to seize it.


We met up at the movies and decided to see Hancock. I was feeling pretty impressed with myself, oozing confidence and playing hard-to-get. Feeling like the life of the party.


I don’t remember much of the movie and I haven’t seen it since, so I can’t offer any comment on it. Hancock had just come out, it was over school holidays and it was a rainy day; the trifecta. Needless to say the cinema was full. Yet I don’t think it’s too self-absorbed to say that the people who were there that day probably remember me better then they do the movie.


It was about halfway through when it happened. I had to use the bathroom. I was cursing myself for drinking the whole large Coke I’d bought. Getting up to go to the toilet posed a number of problems for me: firstly there is no way to maintain gracefulness while you push your way through the rows of annoyed patrons. But also if I got up to leave I ran the risk that someone else would capture Jade’s attention while I was gone.


Finally I decided that I couldn’t hold on any longer. I got up, pushed and “sorry”ed my way to the aisle. I was trying to “breeze” out of the cinema. The reality, however, was that I got down two steps before I slipped; the rest of which I went down on my bum. The whole cinema saw it and were in hysterics. Those who were unfortunate enough to miss it were quickly informed, people not even bothering to whisper “Did you see that girl?” A room of strangers bonded over my miss fortune.


It wasn’t all bad though. I took it in pretty good spirits; laughing at myself. I walked back into the cinema afterwards with my chin held high, ignoring the sniggering.


What’s more I got the boy. Unfortunately he’s never let me forget. Just the other day he was laughing to himself, then said “Hey Rach, do you remember that time…”

The beginnings of a perilous journey

I was asked the other day why I write. I don’t know how I can answer this with anymore then “because I love to”. I’ve always written. I wrote before I could even arrange letters into a readable order. My grandma would give me my grandfather’s old dated diaries and I would fill them with random words and phrases. Things like “cat” “dog” “I see a tree”. I’m happy to say that I have progressed since this early literary dabbling.

I love to write. But it’s not very often that I share my writing with others. I’m too self-conscious. After all what could I have to say that nobody else has said before? Yet here I am.

I’ve only really just discovered the world of blogging. I knew it existed, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never experienced it first hand. Over the last week or so, in my procrastination of university assignments I have launched myself into reading blogs. This started with Todd’s Thoughts of a Frustrated Visionary and quickly extended to include Allie’s Hyperbole and a half. What I discovered from reading two entirely different blogs is that you can write anything you like. Todd’s is eloquent and philosophical while Allie’s made me laugh so hard I may have pulled a muscle or two.

My point is that, from what I can tell, blogging is about self-expression and freedom. I think that this is what I need. Besides if by some chance anybody does actually read this, I won’t have that awkward moment of trying to decide whether they liked it or not. Sometimes isolation is the internets very best feature.

I’m sure to write about a number of diverse topics. You know that saying, a messy desk is equal to a messy mind? Well if that’s the case my mind probably resembles landfill. Scary thought. I guess we’ll see where this goes.

P.S Perhaps I shouldn’t have tagged Todd in the same post I mentioned my aversion to assignments. You see, Todd is my politics tutor. Todd I’ve been working very hard on “Politics and the media” I promise.