One Angry Monkey

I’ve been doing a fair bit of thinking over the past few weeks. I know, I know, I should be careful with that. Don’t want to strain myself. I’ve gotten nowhere with it either. My mind is excellent at dragging me around in circles. Funny that, the rest of me has a stellar sense of direction.

I’m going to make a confession. I’m a fantasy nut. I love fantasy. I love it because it’s in a different world. When something doesn’t sound right, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s not supposed to be right. It’s a brave new world, baby. I don’t get the urge to run to my computer and google anything just to see whether it is right or not. I kind of like science fiction as well, as long as it’s well done. I loved (and I mean loved) Joss Whedon’s series Firefly and the associated movie, Serenity. It was magnificent. It was entertaining. It didn’t revolve around matter / anti-matter fluctuations in the warp drive. Best of all, I have no idea how the ship worked, or how fast it could take them from A to B. Do you know what I do know? I know the characters and the story. Continue reading…

Well, I think it’s safe to say Christmas is over for another year. Any day now, the Easter decorations will be going up. Power consumption in neighbourhoods around the country will be dropping sharply as those awful, over-the-top Christmas Lights people coat their lawns and houses with are taken down for another year. The birds in those neighbourhoods can go back to sleeping, the 24-hour daylight effect finally gone.

Santa brought me bugger-all. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d be hard-pressed to convince the most gullible person on earth that I’ve been a good girl this year. I had no chance at all with a man who actually keeps track of that stuff. Continue reading…

I baked some muffins today. I know, I know, not exactly traditional Christmas spread but I’m hardly going to make a whole Christmas cake for just me and the Man of the House now am I? Baking, I’ve noticed, is an excellent way to get yourself thinking about things that are entirely unrelated to what you should be doing. What was I thinking about? Cooking.

You see, I’m an okay baker but I’m an extremely ordinary cook. “What are you baking?” is invariably assigned a tone which suggests optimistic anticipation. On the other hand, “what are you cooking?” is reluctantly voiced as the Man of the House prepares himself for the worst. Continue reading…

Well as it turns out I perhaps shouldn’t have quit my day job. Somehow I got it into my head this evening (don’t ask me how) that there was no point in being a writer if I didn’t use my powers for good. In this case, romancing the Man of the House. My weapon of choice? Haiku.

For those who don’t know and can’t be bothered clicking on the link, it’s a Japanese style of poetry. The only real rule is the structure. The first line has to be five syllables, the second seven and the third five again.

I fired up the instant message program I use to get his attention whenever I want it. We’re at opposite ends of the house, you see, and when he’s TF2ing it up with his headphones on I could be on fire and he wouldn’t realise. Anyway. Fire up the program and type in the first thing that pops into my head which seems to fit the profile.

Pale from lack of sun
Your skin never sees daylight
Love you anyway

How sweet. Lucky I’m more of a prose kind of girl.

One thing I learned during my time in retail was that people don’t read. Oh sure, maybe I’d think differently if I’d worked in, say, a bookstore, but somehow I doubt it. You see I’m one of those people who likes to read every word they come across. The more I read, the more I know. I like to know things. I think it’s an off-shoot of my collecting-stuff issue. I know it, it’s mine.

Normal people, ie people not me, seem not to do that. When I was in the deli I lost count of the number of times a customer came up to the front of the counter and asked how much (insert product here) was despite the fact there was an A4-sized sign standing between them and me proclaiming the price in great, big letters. When I was on checkout it was the same but with the “Sorry I’m closing” or “12 items or less” signs. Continue reading…

I’ve decided, for now anyway, I don’t hate summer after all. Sure, I could take or leave the wretched heat (preferably leave) but the benefits.

The Man of the House and I went shopping last night. I’ve never enjoyed grocery shopping, a situation worsened by my time spent working in one of those wretched places. I tell you, the things you learn… But last night it was almost pleasant. Continue reading…

Sometimes it pays to step back and take a good, long look at things. It’s like the old saying, “You can’t see the forest for the trees”. Except that in this case it’s more like “You can’t see the forest for your deep, unshakable belief that it’s just not there”. That’s a frequent problem for me but it seems that, of late, it’s been getting worse. I’ve been spending so much time looking at where I’m not I forget to look back and check out how far I’ve come. So this evening’s post is all about that. You’ve been warned. Continue reading…

You know, I look at the people I’ve met over the past few months, the authors especially, and I find myself asking, did they doubt themselves? I don’t mean the surface doubt that I think everyone experiences at some point, am I doing the right job, am I marrying the right person, does my bum look big in these pants? I mean the kind of deep, serious self-doubt where you ask yourself, what am I thinking?

When I was at school I always did best at maths and science because in those subjects there’s a right answer and a wrong answer. But in English I was about the worst student in my class. Everything was open to interpretation, and my interpretation was always wrong. There was no black or white. Hell, sometimes it didn’t even look like there was dark and light grey. I hated it. I wished I’d decided to keep doing biology even though I hated the idea of dissecting things. And yet now here I am. Trying to become one of the indirect reasons for my high school torment. Continue reading…

Sometimes I wonder why I torture myself. It’s not like I enjoy it. I actually have an aversion to pain which borders on excessive. And yet somehow every time I’m presented with the opportunity to do something I know I’ll never allow myself to live down I go ahead and do it. What am I talking about this time? I’m talking about socialising of course.

With the silly season comes silly parties and functions. I know, I just got done gloating about how I get to avoid that with the family back across the ditch. Unfortunately for my prickly sense of dignity they’re not the only people who celebrate Christmas. Go figure. That wasn’t so bad when I attended things like Coles Christmas parties. There I was guaranteed not to make a fool of myself. Why? Well, I don’t drink until I can’t stand up without the aid of the bar and I don’t have a habit of showing off what I learned at pole dancing classes. I don’t actually take pole dancing classes which helps. Try to restrain your disappointment. Here’s the thing, and it’s going to come as a shock so brace yourself, I’m not good with people. Continue reading…

Well, Christmas is looming before us it seems. The shopping centres’ decorations are sprinkled with about a month and a half’s worth of dust. The music being piped through is an assortment of insipid Christmas carols. The major channels are ruining the good, old-fashioned Sunday Night In with saccharine “comedies” such as Surviving Christmas.

It’s maddening. Last weekend they wasted Christmas with the Kranks. It was the first of December! Although it’s not exactly my cup of tea, it would have made for a better Christmas Day than the 60th screening of Miracle on 34th Street. Continue reading…