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