I've left

Sorry for the betrayal, Blogger. Tumblr just doesn't require as much hearty commitment...

Blistered feet, calloused fingers, but content as f*ck.

It is with a full belly of cultural amalgamation (bits of taco, bits of paella and bits of chinese noodles anyone?) that I sit down tonight to write and reflect about small things to be grateful for. I do realise this is alarming. I, the resident creep with a penchant for filling my nostrils with assorted objects, want to discuss things beyond my apparent maturity level? Yes. Hear me out.

I came home tonight from my routine Sunday night salsa class. Having tried my hand (well, foot) in salsa sometime in October, I've now been at it for about six months. I don't leave straight after my Level 4 class wraps up. I like to stay on for the next class, the beginner class, because I like to brush up on my skills. A new routine is taught every week, and Level 3's routine tonight was the very same routine from my 2nd ever Level 3 class. I remember being a clusterfuck that night - a vicious cycle of wayward limbs and the associated shame. I refer to that was the worst night of dancing I ever had - I was completely and utterly off my game, it was like I was gearing up for baseball... in a synchronised swimming arena. I don't take well to mediocrity, let alone failure, so I sulked my way home that night. I didn't end up coming back for weeks.

After biting the bullet and strapping on my dancing shoes - first my left foot, then my other left foot, I eventually came back. And tonight, after laying that old grievance to rest for months, it resurrected itself, and I looked it right in the eye as I grabbed it by the proverbial balls.

I could not believe how naturally the dance flowed. My feet, my hips, my smile... tonight just seemed privy to this language I had only ever heard in whispers. And I said a silent plea of thanks to the universe - for feeling so careless but simultaneously so attune to the rhythm, and for the wisdom brought on by fulfilled perseverance. We fail, we learn, we grow. I learned this tonight. So I guess my point in sharing this is to hammer in that age old adage of "never giving up". It's cheesy, yes, but I ain't ever gon' complain about extra mozarella in my four-cheese pasta!

And in other news, I finally cashed in my music store voucher that my Momma bestowed upon me during Christmas festivities. I have been unable to let go of my new steel string bad-ass-black Takamine. It still is yet to be named. Suggestions?

And it's the season of lent. I've been tossing up between giving up either a) men or b) chocolate, but this is proving to be an epic struggle. I have decided then that the only rational thing would be to compromise... and so it is that I shall be giving up c) chocolate covered men. I am freaking Mohammed! And if Mohammed don't go to the Mountain, the Mountain better go to Mohammed. And damnit the Mountain bows to me this time. He bows, alright.

My father, the closet Justin Bieber fanboy.

Don't rouse the dead.

The title bears no weight on this post. It just sounded good in my head. I've been back to work, back to salsa class, back to the routine bustle of my Sydney existence... just back for a week now. I have many pending and overdue anecdotes from the recent Manila trip, and the not-so-recent Gold Coast exeunt.

Maybe those thoughts and images will never see the light of day. THEY WILL GO WITH ME TO THE GRAVE. Oh look, yet another death reference. Foreboding, perhaps?

I made this thing yesterday, and I thought it was funny. You will laugh, damnit. You will laugh. Okay fine, I will make do with a faint giggle.

K bye. Gotta go skedaddle and update my secret blaaahg... ooh! ;)

hey internets

I have one night left in Manila. Sydney-bound again tomorrow. Boo

Transit & peppermint tea.

That's my face sipping peppermint tea at Changi Airport in Singapore. Hours prior, I tweeted this on the interwebs:

I believe I will turn into a large peppermint creature soon. AND FANCY THAT, I'm embarking on some new travels, and my prior travels still have not been documented. Typical.

Me, Myself and Eye(liner).

I've been back to the daily grind for a week. I told myself that finishing my Gold Coast holiday recap (which I started immediately after the last post) was in store for tonight. But uh, suffice to say, that fell through. Drawing on my self was exponentially more alluring!

Also, my Father can not stomach looking at me. Need new Father. And skype / iChat contacts. Anyone game enough to put up with my face on a daily basis?

I went on vacation and now it's the New Year.

Well hello, two thousand and eleven!!11!1!!1one!!1!

I'm taking a break from punching at my gut to wish you all, my readership of two, a Happy New Year. Do not be fooled by the excitement in my above punctuation. I'm actually gnawing at my sunburned skin, writhing in pain and reeking of nail polish and menstrual cramps.


But I don't believe in modern-day medicine, only suffering in silence, if by "suffering in silence" I mean "yelling it on the internet". Ah, 2011, I do not believe you have seen the last of my being obnoxious.

Only hours ago, I came back from the Gold Coast - darker, fatter and poorer. And while I did start to recount a few tales and misadventures, I figure it's a post for tomorrow.

More appropriate would be reflecting on the past year, and saluting the notable occurrences with bullet points...!

* My gramps going through several surgeries, recovering well and being back to his smiley, round-bellied self

* Scoring a job with Apple (there, I said it...!) and within six-weeks, "graduating" to a new team with a different playing field, and finding that I love my co-players and the workload even through times of stress

* Graduating from University... and officially saying goodbye to essay papers started horrifically close to deadline

* Turning twenty one and welcoming adulthood into my open arms and (poisoned) liver, in the company of some of the most important people in my life. Did I also mention popping my cherry on alcohol-induced barfing?

* Getting busted by a speed camera and receiving my first speeding ticket - and although this is not so much a highlight as it is a shameful exercise in stupidity, I guess it serves as a cautionary tale on the ramifications of trying to knock out children with wheels in a 25 metre space... Okay bad joke, but really, I'll call it a learning curve and draw the highlight as it being my last speeding ticket as well. (Wishful thinking?)

* Falling in love with Salsa, not the type that tastes delicious with guacamole and melted cheese on a bed of corn chips, but the type that looks delicious on the dance floor, being led by some suave gentleman... and being able to progress my way to level three within a span of two weeks

and probably the most significant:
* Not wasting as much of my downtime googling dead baby jokes and reading my horoscopes as I did last year

So yes, farewell two thousand and ten. You were relatively kind to me, like a rhinoceros is relatively kind to the pavement (when there are people to step on!) during a stampede.

I am still sans-boyfriend and sans-child. Will two thousand and eleven change this? Stay tuned... Just kidding, Dad. About which bit, however, I will not reveal ;)