Constipation.

Awesome effort on the Blog front Ryan. No, really. What a valiant attempt you've made. A whopping....NO posts, since February. How is it that, despite my greatest intentions and my steadfast commitment to my 6...hold on...12 (they've doubled!) followers, to daily or at least thrice-weekly blogging, I've managed to let three months pass by without so much as a peekaboo?

Shame on me.

Truth be told, I've suffered some life constipation. Clogged up by tasks, work, people, obligations, feelings, stories. You know. All of those things that conspire to stop us from doing what we 'mean' to do.

That's not to say that my constipation has not been satisfying. So to speak. To pick up where I left off in my last post (big break up, booked O/S ticket, working with and not against curve balls yaddayadayadda), I've felt immense fulfillment in, well, life. No longer do I feel swallowed and controlled by that dirty beast I like to call debt, I'm continuing to kick goals on the artsy-fartsy front, and my calcified heart is slowly opening to the possibility of new love (cue violins). Point is, Mama's been busy cooking up a big pot of tasty life stew in 2012.

Yet it's funny how no matter what we do, or how much of it, or how well...there is that constant feeling of 'it' not being 'enough'. I'm sure you can relate with this one, right? Despite the fact that I NEVER stop, I have this constant feeling of needing to do more. Earn more. Sing more. Create more. Save more. See more. And it's that constant fear of not doing or being enough, that paralyses us into not doing anything! Well, seemingly...

I think that's the problem I face with the writing of this blog. I feel this need to to fill in all of the gaps, each time I write. But in said filling, I must be hysterically entertaining yet grounded, laced with emotional depth yet logical, sequential yet loosely constructed and spontaneous...WTF? Too hard basket. Just gonna fluff about on Facebook instead. Updating my status is totes more achievable.

So here I am. Writing a post about, ummm, I'm not entirely sure. But I'm REALLY hoping, ok....(eek..promising?)..that this will mark the beginning of a solid blogging effort. Let this post be a laxative, if you will; these sentences, the Metamucil, to open the chasms for some verbal/ written diarrhea.

How I got to using this whole bowel movement analogy, I've no idea.

Anyhow, I'm about to embark on another pretty cool adventure. I feel that the only way to make sense of it, (more on the making sense part later) is to write about it, and I thus MUST stay accountable. Committed (uggh, the C word). And let it be a part of the bigger picture, not an addition to. Perhaps I'll even fill in some gaps along the way, hey?

So please, 12 avid followers, Mama won't let you down again. She's gonna mix some sweet bloggy stories, confessions and inspirations into that big pot of life stew that she's brewing!

Curve-balls. What do we do with them?

I thought it best to read through my waffles from last year, now that I'm back on the blog-train. Check in to see where I was at, and where I last left my 6 faithful followers. My, how you must have missed me. I was filled with a multitude of feelings when I read my last post from May 2011. The girl was really getting her shit together! Cabaret on it's way- check. Paid performing work- check. Debts disappearing- check. Amazing relationship- check. Settled in Melbourne- check. For the first time in a long time, a state of contentment was the norm. Hells yeah!

There was something extraordinarily satisfying about filling our prehistoric, beaten up 96 Magna with everything we owned, and venturing off on the one-way road trip to Melbourne last April. My partner and I had been living in Sydney for just over a year, but never seemed to find that feeling of contentment. I can speak only for myself when I say that Sydney has (had?) this way of swallowing me up. But Melbourne always had (has?) a way of allowing me to expand. Perhaps it's just an energetic thing. So when the opportunity arose to return to the city of soul, to live in a share house that was nothing sort of awesome, we jumped on it. It may have just been the adrenaline of not actually knowing if our car would make it, with it's four balding tyres, lack of service history, no insurance and the delightful way it leaked from every orifice, but as we hit the Hume, I knew we were at the start of something new. And something big. Little did I know what it was.

I tend not to stay in the same place for long. I think I've moved 18 times in ten years, last count. But as we unpacked our boxes, designated cupboard space and blu-tacked pictures on the walls to make the room ours, something shifted. As the glorious Melbourne afternoon sun streamed in through the window, we lay on the bed, agreeing that we could see ourselves in this haven for sometime. This made me smile.

I remain somewhat flummoxed, as to how so much can change, in such a short amount of time.

To the person who made the ever-wise observation that 'breaking up is hard to do', I say NO SHIT SHERLOCK!!!!!!!! May I also inform you, ever-wise sage, that along with being 'hard', it is heart-wrenching, sickening, disappointing, draining, confusing, bitter, painful, agonising (ok..so now I'm being totally melodramatic, but allow me the indulgence, it's the first time I've got half of this off of my chest).

Flip-side is, it's a great way to shed a few kilo's. Bonus!!

So yes, my beloved boy of three and a bit years decided to part ways, only a few months after feeling like things had never been better. How the fuck this happens to people, I don't know. Well I know, but I'm not sure if the words exist to explain it. You just have to feel it. It was no ones fault, there was no dumper or dumpee (ok, so there was an instigator and it may not have been me), but ultimately, it was mutual. The details are not important, and certainly needn't be shared here. But what is important is that we both knew, and both trusted, that it was time to part ways. What was MORE important, was what we did with the time and space that followed. It's not about the curve-ball. It's about what you DO with it. And it's only that I'm now writing 6 months after the fact, that I have some clarity and a shitload of perspective. Time does heal. Slowly.

One thing I will disclose, is that the question that lead to our breakup was, "Do you want go to New York in December?" Funny how that seemingly simple sentence eventually lead to the sound of a sob that I didn't even know I was capable of producing. You know the type, that ugly, animal-giving-birth type of sound. Oh shit, there I go again, indulging in the melodrama. Anyhow by the end of the day, we'd gone from flipping Sunday morning pancakes to figuring out how the fuck to say goodbye to the person you thought you would/ could be with for some version of eternity.

So back to the New York question. At the time, I couldn't possibly conceive how I could go to NYC, a place that I'd dreamt of for years, and not have him by my side. But when you no longer have a choice in the matter, something internal prevails. So the next day, in what can only be described as a state of puffy-eyed delirium, I dragged myself into Flight Centre. The conversation that transpired went something like this:

Me: (looking like I'd punched 10 cones) "I'd like to go to New York. In December. That is all"
Travel Agent: "We can arrange that"
Me: (sudden wave of inspiration) "Actually, is it possible to go from New York to London?"
Travel Agent: "Umm, yeah". (Looking at me like I had ten heads, which I may as well have) "People do that quite regularly".
Me: "I've always thought about living in London. Pfft, may as well, now that I have nothing here to hold me back....blah blah...."(fade out to a mumble)
Travel Agent: (clearly wishing she could handball me onto someone else) "Well, with that type of ticket, you actually get a stopover in Asia on the way back"
Me: "Are you serious?" (cue tears), "This is like, my dream holiday, oh my God. I can't believe I'm doing it on my own...." (more tears)
Travel Agent: "Can you please pay the deposit and leave?"

So that may be a slightly dramatized version of the conversation (it's how I roll), but I left with my 6 week itinerary in hand and ticket deposit paid. I had 48 hours to come up with the remaining 4G (side note, if you wish to travel in a cheaper fashion, avoid the Xmas/ NYE period), but in the most timely of ways, the very next day, a payment for a colossal job I'd done several months earlier appeared in my account. That covered the cost and a little extra for insurance. Boom. A gentle reminder from the universe that I was in alignment and on track. But from that moment on, it was my track. Just me. And in the midst of the emptiness was an overwhelming feeling of empowerment.

What began to dawn on me then, and what has slowly but surely evolved since, is that despite suddenly being on my own, I was/am not going 'WITHOUT'. I was/am going 'WITHIN'. I knew that there was something greater at play, and that despite the pain of parting ways with the person I loved, I had an inner faith that it was, in the strangest way, meant to be. Like I said in my recent post, last year was indeed one of the best yet. But that came at a mighty price. And there in lies the pendulum effect- the lower you swing, the higher you swing.

I'm going to stop there for now as my thoughts are turning into a thesis and I have shit to do. And no doubt you do to. I'll pick up where I left off, but for now, may I leave you with this thought:

WHEN LIFE THROWS YOU A CURVE-BALL, DON'T LET IT STOP YOU IN YOUR TRACKS. LET IT PROPEL YOU FORTH INTO A NEW, EXCITING DIRECTION. 

Ax

A year later....the power of intention.

It's been a while since this alleged 'debt addict' has made a confession. 10 months to be exact. It's been a big year. A big bloody year. And as I now unpack my suitcase after a two month adventure abroad, it's quite safe to say its been one of the best yet.

If someone had told me on my 27th birthday last year, that 12 months later I would be celebrating the crossover into my late twenties on a remote island off Thailand, following a highly fulfilling (and entertaining) venture from NYC to London, I would have choked on my champagne. Following that would've been the blatant question- 'And how the (insert profanities here) is that going to happen?'

If we look back on my post from January 1 last year, I was sitting before the computer, in the study of my (then) loved-up abode in Sydney, writing primarily as a distraction from the tortuous task of trawling through Seek.Com. I was 26, unemployed, lacking any sort of clarity and boasting a plump 14 thousand dollar debt. My greatest credit was being on a first name basis with Trish from Vodafone Resolutions and my biggest source of excitement was wondering if a knock on the door from the Sheriff would actually be good showreel material. Inspiring stuff.

The fact that I was approaching the end of a ten year era was perhaps the greatest instigation for change. The impending high school reunion hung over my head like a black cloud, raining reminders of unrealized achievements (cue emo music here...FML...etc etc). As those around me continued to reach milestones...marriages, procreation, career growth, travel adventures, I seemed to be stuck in a paralysing well of wet sand. Or at list a pile of my own shite.

I found it quite easy, perhaps even cathartic, to bang on about all of the things I didn't want. Confessing that manifesto of desire of all the things I DID want, was without a doubt, far more difficult. Ironically, that was written a year ago today. Its a daunting task to admit dreams that seem so grandiose. But giving a voice to ideas that, prior to, had been a white wash of what if's and maybe's, became a very empowering force. And it certainly made me realize the power of intention.

It seems fitting to come back to this blog, a year after divulging the first one. No longer though can I confess to be a debt-addict. Ok sure, I have a few bills (ahem, fines) to pay, I eagerly await my next paycheck (the river runs dry) and I can thank the St George MasterCard for sporting my round the world ticket. But only because I got it down to a balance of zero (hear that, zero?!) before swiping it through the Flight Centre EFTPOS machine. I then managed to shop, wine, dine, play and stay on hard earned, solid cashola. Not a credit card in sight. Boom.

So the thoughts, feelings and sentiments that now stir in my heart and mind are no longer confessions of a debt-addict, but merely confessions. (And if I was tech-savvy enough to change the title above I would do so, for the moment I'm useless...balls). So in the posts that follow (and if they don't follow, can someone give me a kick up the ass?), I'd like to share with whoever might like to read, the stories, trials and tribulations that have lead to this present moment. Stories full of true elation, whoopsy daisies, hopeless desperation, raw fucking heartache and everything in between. For those that know me, I do 'honest' pretty well. And I don't plan on making any concessions here.

Fear not, this isn't some sort of 'hear my success story' forum. Lord knows I still have a loooooooooong way to go. But does that ever end? I guess what I can celebrate is a vague turn around, and perhaps give a voice to the hopes and fears that we all share. We all have the power of intention. It's innate. The biggest, and hardest step, at least for me, was/is knowing what the hell you intend to do. So on that note, I think it's time for me to map out my new 'to-do list' for 2012! I encourage you to do the same.

Ax

My blog got bogged

I'm sorry, my devoted 6 followers. I am a terrible blogger. A terrible, uncommitted, shitful blogger. I have not written in over 2 months! The shame is lurking over me like the veil of debt that I ONCE had.

Ok, to say once is taking liberty. No, I haven't miraculously eradicated it all in 4 months. Although taking on some extra work as an 'exotic dancer' did cross my mind. However, the outcome as it stands today looks like this

Personal Loan: 

WAS: 4646.28  

IS: 3,943.90

Credit Card 1: 

WAS: $953.21 (limit $1000

BLOODY CLOSED!!!!!! CLOSED!!!!!!!    

                                Credit Card 2: 

                                 WAS: $5957. 59 (limit $6000) Limit now $5000!

                                  IS: $ 4897
 

                                 Fines (F*#K!): 

                                WAS: $1684.00….

                                 IS: mmmm, $1534.00...screw you infringements court, you are clearly not my priority

                                 Misc (education, bills etc): 

                                WAS: $1220

                                 IS: 50.00 (woop)

                                And the grand total..

                                WAS: $14461.08

                                IS: $10424.90

BOOYAH. 

If I may carry on with my bragblog, I have also finished my showreel, written my cabaret, scored a theatre gig (paid, woohoo!), landed some presenting work, moved cities and saved the world. 

The ONLY reason I'm carrying on in what may seem an irksome, skite-like fashion, is because we all have goals that we want to kick (in the balls). We all have dirty debts (wether they be financial or otherwise) and we all have that bucket list of things to do before we die. 

If I can do this, anyone can. 

A Japanese Proverb

As we've established, everything about my 2011 is tres zen. That is, with the exception of frequent boozing, failing to meditate, abandonment of yoga for aggressive weight training, incessant chewing of fingers, ice cream binges, and intermittent career related anxiety that is literally giving me the shits. Yes, literally. Everything else? Totes zen. So of course, nothing other than a Kikki K 'Inspirational Diary' would do, to document the chaotic array of tasks that constitute my life. Every couple of weeks, I'm greeted by a page that enlightens me with some sort of inspirational hogwash, hogwash that I am convinced has graced the page at the perfect time, by the divine powers of the universe, specifically for me. If you take note of my status updates on facebook, you'll see them. I regurgitate them, secretly hoping that my friends admire my innate wisdom. Truth is, I'm a big fat fraud, such pearls could only belong to famous Poets, Buddhist Monks, or a Japanese Sage.

My little mantra of the moment is:

A few entries ago, I blatently confessed my deepest dreams and desires. And while it was effing hard, it gave me a concise idea of what I want. The next step was to take some action. For years, and I mean like, ten of the suckers, I've meandered around in this dilly-dally of a direction towards some vague way of living (that's the action without vision part).  It was the reality of having very little to show, well at least from where I stand, at my ten year reunion (this year, dammit!), that gave me a kick up the proverbial to get moving.


So now my daydreams have action. I said I want to present, so I'm filming a Showreel..featuring everything from rockclimbing to drag queens. I said, in a grandiose statement, that I want to tour a cabaret around the world. Well, I've at least started locally and booked a space in Melbourne, come June. I said I want to write for mags, so I've enrolled in a Writing Course, to see how I can fine tune these ramblings into some kind of feature article. Every day is action. Or if not, it's at least some crappy job that is supporting all of the above. And it's these very actions, that are making my crappy jobs that little bit more bearable.

Oh good Lord. I started writing this on the 7th of MArch, and today is the 4th of May. I forgot to post it! Cue PUBLISH POST button!

Madness and Manifesto.

I have a rather strong memory regarding a Year 2 assignment on road safety. We had to create a cardboard poster, displaying our understanding of the topic at hand. The task details are not so vivid. What is vivid, however, was my audacious interpretation of this simple cut and paste type of deal. A basic cardboard poster was not enough for this precocious 8 year old. Mine came complete with a three minute song and dance routine, that was to be presented to the class (you can imagine their surprise) come assignment day. I, with a little help from my mother, who has a lot to answer for come to think of it, got all Suzi Quatro like, and rewrote the lyrics to 'Devil Gate Drive', aptly substituted with 'Wear you helmet when you ride'. I'll leave the costume assumptions to your imagination. I want to cower into my neck with embarrassment when I think about it now, but my God, was I well chuffed with my efforts then!


What the hell happened to this fearlessness?


As this seems to be the canvas for confession, I'll admit that the first half of these past few weeks (yes, it's been that long since I've fondled the keys), was not the greatest. The perceived doom of my 27th birthday was banging away at my mind like monkeys cymbals, every clang a reminder of what I've 'failed' to do with my colossal 27 years on the planet. Ah, the invisible march of time can be so suffocating for something that is really nothing but a self imposed sentence? I began to develop, well more like indulged in the existing, anxiety pertaining to all of my shoulda, coulda, woulda, didn'ts. All the bad guys came out to play (worry, fear, self-doubt..blah blah crappy blah), and adding salt to the wound was a rejection letter from my old mates at 'Insert name of bank here'. My consolidation loan was denied, the letter reading something along the lines of;

Dear Ms. Ryan.


Suck balls. You will never get your financial shit together. We, of every single bank in the world, will see to that.


Yours, with not an ounce of remorse,


Team Arsewipe. (hahahhahahahsuckedinhahhahhaeatshitahahahahahloserhaahahahahhaha)

Add to this a small but shitful car accident, where by I side-scraped the left side of my car with another, to avoid the douche who was approaching too close on my right. Cut to wide shot and I'm left footing the bill. A bit hard to bury that one in the denial pile when the treat who's car I scratched (who feels the need to intercept every second word she says with 'basically' ARRRGGGHHH) calls me incessantly with the latest updates. It was somewhere around this point that I titled me head back and screamed 'Why Gods of karma? Why?!?!'

But then something happened. I'm not sure what (anti-climax), but somehow, somewhere in the latter half of this time that has lapsed since my last post, all this USELESS fear and regret dissolved into a peaceful calm. Not only an acceptance, but a celebration of where I'm at. Yes, it's helped that I have been working hard, in jobs that I like, and that I am slowly but surely making a dint on my debts. But I think the key was, that in the same way I laid out all of my dirty little secrets in a bid to come clean, so too have I laid out all of my hopes, dreams and aspirations in a bid to have them realised.

Positive thinking/ visualisation and I go way back. Ever since my parents bid adieu to one another some 17 years ago, my Mum, in post-divorce haste, had my brother and I closing our eyes, taking deep breaths and leaving our worries at the worry tree. Bless. Hell, if I did that now there would be a worry forest and I'd be armed with a chainsaw! Anyhow, point is, I really am well equipped to handle my demons with some sort of positive guard.

So, I took heed. First came the vision board, totes Opes style (ahem Oprah...duh). It was a lovely Sunday night, glass of creative juice (aka Vino) in tow, sitting on the floor in a cathartic ocean of magazines, photo's, travel guides and newspapers, cutting and pasting a representation of all that I aspire to. And it was fun! What I noticed however, was that despite the gamut of imagery depicting how I want to be...STRONG! EMPOWERED! (don't cringe, it's hard enough admitting this) and the romantic ideals of where I want to go..EUROPE! NEW YORK!... there was a distinct absence of what I want to do, particularly on the career front.


It was at that point that I realised....I'm not entirely sure of what I want to do? I've spent a lot of time thinking about what I don't want to be doing, one needs only to scroll through the this blog to see that. But as for what I want to do? Exactly? Hmmmmmmm. Yeah, yeah, I know I've always had grand aspirations of marking my mark as an 'actress'. But the truth is, when I really think about it, I want to do a hell of a lot more. And now that I have really thought about it, there's a lot more that I can offer.

Some famous bird by the name of Madonna once said ' A lot of people are afraid to say what they want. That's why they don't get what they want.' Well, thanks for the hot tip Mads, because just as I cyber-divulged all of my dirty ways earlier, so shall I, in the spirit of my audacious, fearless 8 year old self, cyber-proclaim what I actual want. May I add, that this is not easy to do. And for that reason, I do so in bold red. 

I want to explore and present life, people and their complexities, places, diversity, culture, arts and of course, humour. I want to do this through the mediums of TV, documentary, radio and the written word. The greater goal being to educate, inform and inspire. I want to do radio show, write a column in a magazine and even a book or two. I want to perform multiple cabaret shows (the art form where for me, music, theatre and life meet), perhaps in several countries. And I want to continue to foster my passion for performance, doing the odd musical, and meh, the odd film. And I want to fly to the moon.

Wow, that was scary. And freakin hard! But it had to be done. My manifesto, if you will. Even though I've only got around to publishing it now, it's been brewing for the past few weeks. And, call it a coincidence, but since I've put it out there, things are coming to fruition. Perhaps that's why I haven't had as much time to write, because I've been busy doing!

There's no point letting our dreams lie dormant, with captain fear snarling at them like a guard dog, forbidding them to be released into reality. Heck, I'm in my late twenties now!! It's time to take action. And buy the look of things, I have a hell of a lot to do.

So I best get cracking! Wish me luck.

A rant, if you will....

I've had trouble writing these past few days. It seems totally redundant to be even hinting at whinging, when we are engulfed by these tragic stories and images from the Queensland, and now Victorian floods. My crap pails in insignificance and I refuse to give any energy to my comparably minuscule financial problems.

The only redeeming fact that comes from any such tragedy is the way in which it summons the heart and human spirit. The way in which people Australia wide have rallied together to help those who have suffered is truly remarkable. I have been glued to the TV in awe of the resilience, strength and camaraderie that the everyday John Citizens exhibit in salvaging their homes, towns and cities. Strangers become friends, gloved up and knee deep in muddy water, getting the job done.

And I can't handle working an eight hour shift in hospitality? WTF.

It's a little surreal to see peoples belongings, cars and even houses floating down a river. I mean, we work hard to build ourselves a nice life. Filled with nice things. So we can eat nice food, and go to nice dinners. If we're extra successful, we'll drive a nice car, maybe with a European badge. We'll move out of our apartment to a nice house, and every year go on a nice holiday, with our friends who also have nice houses. We'll have kids and bust our balls so they have nice toys. We'll send them to a nice school and buy them a nice car on their 18th birthday. It'll all be very nice. 

I don't know about you, but I have totally subscribed to this ideal. Just last weekend, whilst sitting on the Harbor front in Balmain with my boyfriend, I admitted that my desire for a 'quality life' was beginning to surpass my need for creative fulfillment. Easy to say as you watch yachts sail by, with Sydney-siders sipping champagne, their laughter echoing through the aqua-tapestry of our beautiful city. It's true, I have totally surrendered to this international religion that is materialistic consumerism. 'I want to have nice things! Perhaps some vintage pieces to adorn the lounge room. And a new car, my God I'd love a new car! It pains me to drive down the street in that beast with four wheels, it's sooooo embarrassing! And I swear, I feel like I have been wearing the same clothes since December. I'll go to fashion hell!' My internal dialogue. The amphetamine ants, running ramped.

But such thoughts quickly dissipated into guilt and remorse as I watched, on my 42 inch plasma, furniture, possessions and cars literally swept away by mother nature. Serving to remind us that a far greater beast is at play, one that we have not a scrap of control over, no matter how hard we work or how much we earn. I look around my lounge room at all of my possessions. The fruits of mine and my beloveds eBay-agonizing-labour, all to ensure that our abode was picture perfect. 

And what the hell does it matter.

We have a friend staying with us tonight. He's just arrived after a 14 hour drive from QLD. I quote; 'People's stuff is lining the streets, army trucks come along every day, collecting stuff to dump. There is crap everywhere'.  At the end of the day, it really is just crap. Meaningless, worthless. Breakable, disposable. So why do we place so much gravitas on possession? So many of my financial insecurities stem from a need to keep up. To have more, to be more, to get the house and the shiny car.

I agree that it is incredibly challenging to unsubscribe to this reality. It's how we've been cultured. We know better, so we strive for it..it's the human condition. Perhaps awareness is the key. Perhaps I'll have a little more perspective next time I spend seven hours in Ikea, hotdog in hand, angsting over the duck egg blue? Or aubergine? Who knows, maybe I won't rush around like a mad woman when I have friends coming over, getting those 'finishing touches' to the apartment that truly validate my success as a human.

I know, I know, it's easy to sit here and rant. What am I going to do about it right? I'd love to make a whopping donation and contribute to this devastation. My reality at present dictates otherwise. So in the absence of charity, I'll aim for clarity. Look around, value and appreciate what is truly important. The moments shared with loved ones, who love us for who we are, not for the junk we've acquired. Be grateful for what we have, regardless of age or quality. I know that when I go, I'd like to be remembered not for the thread count and origin of my bedsheets, or the designer frocks in my closet (no fear there, none to date), but for the passion, love and conviction I show others and instill in all I do. To me, that's a quality life.

Perhaps this will be my point of focus from here on in. Or at least to strike a balance. Care to join?