I've been obsessed, OBSESSED I tell you!
...about this Yoghurt.
I won't go on and on about it. It's just really, really nice and since I discovered it, we haven't looked back. It's the type of product that's ridiculously expensive ($6.70 for half a kilo) but seems to be on sale ($5.00 - still bloody expensive actually!) every second week at Coles or Safeway so I'm always getting it. Anyway, I was at my friend G's house a couple of days ago and saw she had a couple of tubs in the fridge. She told me it was on sale so I went and got two tubs. The ol' favourite Passionfruit and new try, Blueberry.
This yoghurt has been in my thoughts somewhat so it was only a matter of time before I had a mad dream about it and that happened last night!
I dreamt I bought two tubs of yoghurt, one passionfruit, on blueberry (just like in real life!) only this time it was for a mother's group type gathering at G's house. There was a long trestle like table of food people brought and everyone got stuck into my yoghurt. I started to get a bit pissed off as I hadn't managed even a spoonful. And it was my yoghurt! You know how your emotions are heightened in dreams? Well, I was so upset at the unfairness of it all I was almost at crying point. Meanwhile, there are more tubs of Gippsland Dairy Yoghurt on the table but it's all sloppy dregs. And I don't want that!
Anyway, most of the women are just generic dream women but another friend from real life shows up from a yoghurt conference in Canberra with a box full of Gippsland Yoghurt...but it's the special edition version in glass tubs!
As usual, the dream was so fresh in my head when I woke up and now it's all fallen into bits and pieces but I remember the weird finale. Somehow I ended up in a giant tub of blueberry yoghurt and it was dreggy (there is something obviously up with the dregs - what's going on?) and on the turn. I was also Harry Potter. So basically I'm in this yoghurt lake trying to do spells and stuff with my wand to get out of it.
I have had such grand ideas which have never reached fruition. Sometimes it's just too much for me to bear...
Yet even though I am now technically middle aged (FARRRK) I am still that girl with the big dreams. The one who thinks she is going to do something amazing with her life.
You name it, I've had the intricately detailed fantasy. Fashion Designer, Actress, Singer/songwriter, Poet, Director, Screenwriter, Novelist...
I cringe when I think of all those conversations about all the thing I was GOING to do. In my twenties, my friends or whoever's ear I was bashing at the time would sometimes be as convinced as I was that they were talking to the next big thing. I was so passionate. I would believe my hype but it would never, EVER last beyond a day. Seriously. I would be lucky to get so far as to bullet point a game plan.
It's a little bit ridiculous but that girl is still here. I can feel her. I definitely don't talk about my grand plans as much but they are still there. Ok, I've narrowed it to writer at least.
The thing is, I'm such a bloody perfectionist. I should say that's one thing that holds me back. The others are those ol' chestnuts, sheer laziness and fear.
I really want this to be IT thought, really, truly. This blog is just the start.
When I say IT, I don't really mean success. How many blogs are there out there anyway? No, the grand plan doesn't mean a popular blog...although it would be ACE. What I mean by 'IT' is, I guess, not giving up.
Let's see this thing through...it's the only way magic can happen...
I've never really sussed the first posts of a blog before. Or maybe I have. I seem to recall reading sentences like 'well, here goes', 'not sure where I'm going with this' etcetera etcetera.
I don't know why but I'm embarrassed by my starts and never finishes. I don't know why because I'm sure nobody has read anything here apart from myself. I'm embarrassed because I can't shake the feeling that people have.
I started this blog again because my partner had a stroke. As fucked as it is, I couldn't help but think..now I have something to write about! The thing is, it's been 6 months and I can't bring myself to write about it. I'm devastated. It's a tragedy but I don't think my reluctance to talk about it here is because 'I can't go there' or anything. It's just that it's...well, boring. I've attempted to write about it and there they stay as drafts until I come back a few weeks, months later (god, time is travelling fast) and delete them. I find myself getting caught up in the boring details. Every time I've tried to recount it, the story becomes so convoluted and annoying, I just get a headache and go GAH!
And yet, I have to get it off my chest to move forward with this blog.
So away we go in bullet points...
1 March 2012, approximately 9:30pm. Police at the door to tell me Asa is in a critical condition in Canberra. He has had a stroke (although they couldn't tell me much at the time)...CERAZY!
1 March - 28th March. Asa is in Canberra Hospital. SO many stories relating to this but I don't want the headache coming back. Basically I am back and forth. I'm in shock. The world is different. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Asa can't move the left side of his body. I am worried I will be faced with adult nappies.
28th March Asa is transferred to Royal Talbot Rehabilitation Hospital in Melbourne. THANK GOD, the adult nappies are gone. Asa is still hoisted from bed to wheelchair. He still looks dazed and a bit crazy eyed.
March to June. Asa makes 'Great Gains'. By the time he is out of hospital and back home on 15 June he is totally continent, he can walk with a cane, he looks and sounds more normal. The high inflection in his voice is all but disappeared. He is getting better.
There are about 100,000 words to write about the experience but I just can't. They will definitely come up because, let's face it, this is now a MASSIVE part of my life. I'm just refusing to let it define me though.
Asa doesn't want it to define him.
Phew, done. Addressed.
I'm going to keep the previous two posts up. I've just realised I've created this post in the wrong blog.
How ridiculous, I have four blogs! This post was meant to go in the one I started after Asa's stroke but...I don't care if you don't!
I'm not sure where I'm going with this
So here goes...
So, you would be right in assuming I would like to make some money. but first I would love to have an audience. Well I guess I need that last one to achieve the first one.
As you (who are you?) can see I've attempted blogging a few times. I wish I could get rid of them as the reminder of my carefree life before is a bit hard to bear. I called myself schtickless as, you see, I had no schtick! But now, yeah, boy do I have some schtick. My partner really wanted me to have something to write about so he kindly went and had quite a largish stroke for me!
Wow, am I sounding bitter and twisted or what! Maybe just a tad unhinged. But that's understandable I'm sure you'll agree. So yes, there are reasons I would like some money. We will need it.
But I'm finding, first and foremost, that writing about this will help me. I'm already feeling better. Forget the money, maybe it will find us in other ways. If you are reading this, please stay tuned. I will be telling stories and I hope they will entertain, maybe help? Inspire? Make you laugh? Make your life seem less shit?
How many women (and I bet it's all women) have started a blog tonight after The Project said we could become millionaires? I'd love to know. I'd really love to know.
Anyway, I started to get all motivated and excited then Freedman went and threw a wet flannel with a whiff of fungus about it with her "If you go into blogging thinking you'll make money you're wrong." line. It not only made me go "Aw maaan!" inwardly but it also annoyed me because there was definite gloating there and I'm sure there was a smarmy little voice inside her head going "unless you're me the mama of all Mia's of course! Mwahaha!"
I don't believe for one second that Mia started blogging just for the hell of it. She had every intention of it becoming the spinner of moneys that it must surely be. Anyway, you know what? Good on her. Good. On. Her. Truly. Mamamia is not my (very) particular cup of tea but I do read it quite a lot. And there are no sour grapes here. Not at all. Ok maybe one little sultana. No, really I'm joking. I'm just tired. So very tired.
so...bye! Will be back to throw around some ideas on how to get this blog happening and out there. Waaay too tired to think now so will just go and verse some random 10 year old on Fruit Ninja.