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Mothering. The joys of living with a 70+ year old. And escaping to another state.

Remember when I thought it was a good idea to move back home to help mum out and also save myself some money?

Next time I think of anything remotely interesting like this and being a good Samaritan, someone please slap me back to earth.

Apart from that it’s been a pretty full on 7 months. Cern is living in my mum’s granny flat out the back and spending lots of time between my bedroom and his bedroom. Bless him, he hasn’t unpacked a box yet so there are tunnels from his bedroom to the kitchen & bathroom. At this rate I may need to start nagging him to hurry up so that at least we have a space to escape to that mum isn’t likely to follow.

Cern and I are still going strong. We went on a road trip to Melbourne and surrounds just over a week ago for a week together. He did most of the driving and I did most of the sleeping. There was a reason for all my sleeping, but that’s for another post.

The drive down we ended up doing a bit late because we got distracted at the EB Games Expo, we were meant to be there for a few hours and leave, but ended up staying the whole day.

So on the drive down we stayed at some place. Somewhere. Inland. The sun was out, I was howling with some songs on the radio and Cern hadn’t thrown me out of the moving car yet, I figured we were good.

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We stayed with my other state Wifey and we road tested that her creaky bed does not, in fact, collapse if you fuck on it even after she said to stick to the middle of the bed. We drove around, went sex toy shopping to the local warehouse full of adult things. It was rather boring, believe it or not. I think we go into them more these days because of the novelty of it. Honestly, half the clothes there wouldn’t even fit my nipple in it, let alone my boob. The sex toys weren’t that interesting, I think Cern may have ruined me with Bad Dragon toys. Honestly. We found a jerky house, I kid you not, an actual shop that just sells jerky! Cern had a jerky-gasm.

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Back to the point though. I took lots of pictures, we went dinosaur fossil hunting – which involved me wildly bashing rocks with my geopick while Cern carefully smashed some rocks to look inside a lot. I found the pulverizing cleansing. He got upset at me because a rock I was holding with a fossil dissolved in my hand in the wind. I swear it was an accident. So we had to find him another one lest I die of misplaced wind guilt.

The view along the Great Ocean Road was very pretty though. Here’s some peektures for you all.

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We saw a lot of koala’s running around on the ground. Well. Running is an overstatement. They kind of do this barreling weird walk thing. However they are cute. I don’t care how many I thought were morphing into drop bears at night with their calling out for females to hump and the fact that I nearly crawled up Cern during our night-time wander around the camp yard to find the wifi since we were in the middle of nowhere and had no reception for anything.

The things I learnt about my relationship with Cern after being in a car with him for a week?

  1. He thinks my weird peculiarities are amusing
  2. He doesn’t mind that I sing as badly as nails going down a chalkboard
  3. He lets me sleep and does most of the driving without holding it against me
  4. He says I shrink his car whenever he tries to get back into the driver’s side after I’ve driven because I’m so small and have to move the seat up so far
  5. He’s a funny lil/big shit that makes me laugh a lot
  6. He doesn’t mind stopping when I squee at things and letting me get out of the car to take peektures to show friends on facebook, sometimes even reversing said car back up the road
  7. He laughs at my moody phases
  8. Being near him has a calming effect on me when he’s not hurting me to listen to me giggle or inappropriately groping me in public so I say “sweetie” in a high-pitched WTF did you do man kinda voice
  9. He drives like a mad man when I point out that he’s giving me a heart attack
  10. I love him and thank the stars that he’s hung around for this long

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When you lose a family member

For me, my urban family is probably closer to me than my actual family and losing one of them so harshly 5 years ago today hasn’t made this date any easier to bear.

I miss her face. I miss her cheeky smile and most of all, I miss her bear hugs and wit. I miss the way she made me dance with my eyes closed for hours without trying.

Hold onto those you love, whisper what they mean to you because sometimes you just don’t know when they will be gone.

Carpe diem my dears, carpe diem.

Here’s what I wrote last year …


Mental health services available:

Twenty 10 – GLBTIQ youth counselling and other services

Reach Out

Mental health services Australia

Mental Health Services NSW

Beyond Blue – mental health support

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Waxing woes

Waxing. The modern dilemma of walking around looking like you got a bad botox job and clear goop dribbling off your eyebrows and chin.

They make you believe that this is how you’ll walk out…

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When in fact this is what you look like

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On your face.

I’m currently toting a swollen lip and eyebrows. Cern said I looked like some red oozy thing last night after I got it done. This morning the swelling has evened out more and looks like my upper lip wanted to have botox but failed.

I am not sure I’m going to enjoy this process of finding a new beautician after moving if this is what I have to live with. I may be paying more than double for the same thing in Newtown but at least I don’t walk out looking like my face has been put through a blender.

I’m so glad I didn’t let her near my vagina! Which is now cowering in fear.

I may have to drive an hour to Newtown just to get a wax.

My poor face. And Cern finds this endlessly amusing.

But I still have the upper hand. My pit hair is traumatising him. And I’m not going to wax it. I never quite understood why men get so bent out of shape about hair on a woman in the same place they have hair, yet theirs is ok and ours isn’t.

At least no one at work has doubled up laughing at my poor agitated face. If I didn’t hate ice on my skin so much I’d shove my face in a bowl of it.

I’m so glad this week is over.

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The Duke of Burgundy – A peek into a kinky lesbian relationship

As you may or may not be aware, it’s the Sydney Film Festival at the moment and they have some whopper of screenings available to view. This was but one of many that perked my interest and it was a moofie date with one of my most favouritest women.

So off we bounded into the cold and got seated in the State Theatre for our viewing. Now, me being me, I refused to look up anything to do with the film before I saw it so that I didn’t have any assumptions or expectations of it that would leave me feeling like I was let down by the end because it wasn’t what I was expecting. All I know from my friend was that it was about a kinky lesbian relationship.

We snuggled into the soft old style seats of the theatre that were cushioned (my arse thanks you State!!!) and giggled as the movie started up and we whispered.

Not too long into it we both shut up to watch what was going on.

The film itself was a somewhat arty thing. I mean it did start with the “sub”, Evelyn, kneeling beside a river or brook that tinkled loudly on the screen and made me want to rush to the bathroom to wee.

In some ways I think I was captivated by the movie and in other ways it made me question and confirm certain things I know about the lifestyle from my experience.

The Duke of Burgundy is basically about 2 entomologists who are in a lesbian relationship. However one of them is a bit kinky and basically writes on speech cards for her partner about “scenes” she would like played out and when. It kind of reminded me of Pro-Domming in a way, you get told how to behave, what the scene will entail and how long certain things will go for.

And that’s exactly what this woman was doing to her partner. It’s not ever discussed in the film about if the partner is a willing participant, but soon into the film you come across a scene in the bed when they both awake and the non-kinky Cynthia is stroking Evelyn’s face and explaining all the things she loves about her when Evelyn stops her and asks her to tell her of other things instead as her hand reaches down the sheets to start masturbating. Cynthia helps her out with her own hand and starts to tell her things that make her face go neutral as she stares out into space and when she runs out of things to say before Evelyn has come, Evelyn impatiently tells her to start at the beginning. And so Cynthia,  with a roll of her eyes,  says exactly the same things in monotone.

I believe this is the point where you realise that Cynthia isn’t that into all this kinky stuff. But she does it to please Evelyn.

As the movie progresses you realise that Cynthia is also afraid of losing Evelyn because she’s older and with back problems feels that she can’t give Evelyn what she wants.

The plot keeps going, with various “punishments” meted out for transgressions that a maid may have made. However what you realise is that the scenes are repeated is that there’s nothing new. And from what I got from Cynthia was that she was starting to feel the strain that her “acting” was putting on their relationship. There’s only so much one can do something to please their partner before it starts becoming a chore and you start to resent the other person for putting you in a position where you feel that you have to do something in order to keep them in your life.

From what I can see there isn’t much negotiation of these scenes. Evelyn writes on a piece of paper that she will scrub boots outside for a certain period of time at which point Cynthia will come out and find her slacking off and punish her for it. Evelyn washes Cynthia’s underwear with her hands and forgets a piece of underwear. Cynthia “checks” her work and finds said underwear and repeats the same lines from the beginning of the movie. Throughout you see Cynthia drinking lots and lots of water. You see, one of her punishments was to be a human toilet for not washing the underwear. So as she drank more and more, we giggled. Towards the end I started wincing.

However Evelyn polished another lecturers boots and caused a rift. And as their relationship got more strained and the kinky stuff stopped as they rediscovered what they wanted from each other and loved about each other before it was all about the kinky things and you saw their love blossom. Yet at the end of the movie you see Cynthia don her “mistress” attire and say the same lines you saw her repeat at the beginning of the movie.

I think we all have a part to play in kinky relationships. It’s easy to get caught up in the “me, do me” syndrome and not take into consideration what your partner wants or needs from your interactions as well. I guess that’s why negotiation is a high priority. Talking about what you both need and how to go about getting that without pushing the other person into a place where they are a service top or a rent a dom to your needs or desires. BDSM is a two way street and it works perfectly when you are both aligned in what you desire and need from each other in that space.

I’ve said it before and it’s still true. BDSM doth not a relationship make. If you’re in an intimate relationship with someone it’s icing on the cake. It’s not the be all and end all of your relationship. At least it shouldn’t be, not in an intimate romantic relationship. Sure there are relationships where it’s pure S&M or D/S – however those don’t tend to include building a life together outside of the play space. So that’s not what I’m talking about here.

I remember one scene that had me cheering – Cynthia, for Evelyn’s birthday, wanted to order her a bed with a lockable compartment underneath so she could lock her in there. However when the bed maker couldn’t deliver the bed within the time it would take for her birthday Evelyn pouted and wanted to know if they could give her more money to make it arrive quicker. The answer was no, they couldn’t. So Cynthia blindfolds Evelyn on the night of her birthday and takes her into the kitchen where there is an empty cake stand and all the ingredients laid out. She takes off her blindfold and Evelyn falters. She looks confused and asks where her cake is. Cynthia replies, “It’s right in front of you” as she pushes the recipe onto the cake stand in front of Evelyn and continues on, “you will be making the cake.” Evelyn looks shocked and then confused. “But I never made a cake before” she stutters. This is after the betrayal from Evelyn of polishing someone else’s boots and getting punished. Cynthia, dressed in tights and a frilly top shrugs and leaves her to it in the kitchen as she says she is going to go change into something more comfortable. We then pan to Cynthia sitting in a high-backed chair in her pyjama’s – the significance of this is the last time Cynthia wore pyjama’s Evelyn turned down her advances saying that she looked horrible and wasn’t dressed in anything that inspired her to be sexual – Evelyn starts when she realises what Cynthia is wearing. She hands her the cake and is told to lay down on the floor. Cynthia then puts her sock covered foot on Evelyn’s chest. When Evelyn protests Cynthia puts her socked foot over her mouth as you see a tear fall out of Evelyn’s eye as she said her safeword which is ignored. I cheered for the woman who stepped up and took back the power in the relationship. I cheered for the woman who finally got to understand what submission means.

I cheered because… well…

… sometimes D/s isn’t fun. It’s not about what you want. It’s about what they want. It’s about giving up a part of yourself to serve someone else. Sure you can act these bits out now and then in the bedroom or over a weekend, but ultimately, I’ve done 24/7 before and I lost myself. That path leads to darkness and uncertainty. My brand of D/s now flourishes when I’m left to my own devices, when I have some set boundaries in place regards to play, relationships, my access to my body for certain things, etc. I hate being micro managed. I hate and baulk at someone telling me what to do. Sometimes when Cern says something that gets my back up I have to remind myself to back down and acquiesce. And sometimes I don’t. But with a power exchange comes some understanding of what you’ve agreed to and signed up for. And that’s that sometimes I don’t get to do what I want when I want and that sometimes what he says goes. Even if it sets my teeth on edge to comply.

The challenge and triumph of a successful relationship, especially in a kinky sense, is one where you both communicate what you desire and negotiate how to achieve your goals – much like a normal relationship. However I’ve found that this works better on a foundation of love, trust and mutual respect first. Kinky stuff is fun, its great fun, I totally love it… but it’s not all of who I am.

I am more than my love of pain. Of leather. Of rope. I’m multifaceted and BDSM is just one side of me.

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The pull of winter & work blocking my wordpress access!

You see, there’s a combination of things that have stopped me from updating. Mostly it’s because work has decided that since I’ve gone self hosted, my blog address is entirely not work respectable and has blocked it due to adult content. Damn them!!!

Which means that my updating has gone out the window because by the time I get home all I want to do is blow up pixels and the urge to write goes out the window.

However I will endeavour to make myself write more at home now somehow.

I write to release and cleanse my head but I also would like to write so that what I’m writing makes sense. I guess that’s also why I’ve refrained from doing so. I’m jumbled. Emotionally and mentally.

Plus sometimes I wonder if putting my private life in such a public sphere is good for me. Considering I’ve spent a lot of my life with a lot of my body and mind on public display from shows at Hellfire weekly to Fetlife to a bunch of other various kinky & LGBTIQ community activities. My life has always been an open book and sometimes I think there’s space for me to shut it.

Yet then I have clarity and realise that sharing my experiences doesn’t constitute as sharing parts of me that I want to keep private. I think I still have parts that I want to share with just my partner, especially since everything else is so public. I guard a bit of myself like a goblin with his pot of gold and an OCD for keeping them sparkling. 

In another vein, as I’m still living out of boxes, I feel the pull of winter and hibernation greatly. I want to shut up shop and withdraw to watch crap teevee and eat things that are bad for me.

Instead I’m pulling up my big girl socks and probably going to sleep on writing about last week and how emotionally gut wrenching it was for me.

Oh and the baby foot booties have arrived. We have the kids this weekend so we can’t indulge in making our feet goopy icky – so watch this space for an update next week on the foot experiment!!

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Up and coming: The Diva Cup unravelled and baby foot trials!

I have a few things planned that are going to make for stupidly funny or horrific blog posts.

My friends, being my friends, know that mostly I’ll try anything for the name of science. Or a laugh.

So in that vein, I recently posted on my facebook an article about Alex Logan’s Ode of Hatred to her Diva Cup.


You see, I’ve been told to get one of these things into my life for a very long time. And I’ve been scared. Downright petrified of the thing. It’s not natural. Yet as a friend, TimTam, on facebook put so eloquently “Ohhh tralala Diva Cup is a magical vessel to capture the precious moon blood from my sacred yoni!

Well it’s not. And in amidst our discussions on menstruation cups, pads and tampons vs landfill and how to better be in touch with our vagina’s during their monthly cycle of I will flood you with blood so you suffer… SUFFER – oh and you wash so many sheets that you wish your uterus would have fallen out instead because it would be less messy and gross – I said that if someone sent me one for free I’d trial it and make a blog post about it.

And wouldn’t you know, my friends being the enablers that they are, one of them had one sitting around that they got for a present and never used because they were traumatised by their mild experimentations with a diaphragm. So she’s popped it in the mail for me to trial out and write about. Such a generous soul!

How bad could this be??? Right? RIGHT?!!!

Right. So watch this space. Apparently I need to post pictures too. No vagina shots. I have a shy vagina.

So anyway, next up is this baby foot stuff that my friends have raved on about on facebook. Baby foot I asked? What is this bloody baby foot business? I mean she’s recently had a baby, was she referring to rubbing it’s feet? But then they started talking about wait times and I thought no, she wouldn’t be sticking her baby’s feet into something for a period of time. Babies feeties are so soft and smooshy anyway!!!

So I pipped up and asked. What the fuck are you people talking about? Yes, we know, I have the class of a high femme fatale…

And then they told me. And I was horrified. Absolutely positively horrified. And grossed out. And then they showed me pictures that made me squeal and run around waving my hands around like a woman with her hair on fire. Especially since I hate feet. I do not do feet. AT ALL.

I then proceeded to ask them where to get said “baby foot” item from. Because I’m not above suffering for you lot.

Apparently you can get a Japanese version for less than $2 with free postage. So I ordered 2. I figure if I’m going to suffer so is Cern. So once I have the items I’ll be updating about those too. Pictures included because feet are disgusting and everyone should be traumatised with me. Sharing is caring right guys?

Oh the anticipation, it should have you all waiting with bated breath. Just don’t forget your mints.

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First World Problem Alert: Balls. Big blue ones.

I don’t blame you for thinking that title is something kinky about making a man get blue balls.

But it’s not.

This week in all things work related, a workmate and I acquired some blue exercise balls. That you pump up to sit on instead of normal chairs. Because we thought it would be a good way to strengthen our core muscles while having better posture.

Yes I know, let that sentence sink in a bit more.

Well. Let’s just say that the week has been rather eventful so far and I’m only on day 2 of it.

The first day after I made all the boys at work pump the damn thing up with the foot pump I sat on it and bounced. I pretended to work, but what I was in fact doing was bouncing. A lot.

They have nicknamed our cubicle the ball centre. Yes I know. Full of blue balls. This caused much giggling on my part because my head being constantly in the gutter meant that my mind went to all kinds of weird and wonderful things you can do to balls to make them turn that pretty shade of purple/blue.

So I have a dilemma.

You see. When I sit on said ball, I can either sit so that my feet are flat on the floor and my but is at about a 80 degree angle. Which means that my feet and thighs are working overtime to keep my arse on the ball. Or I can sit back and in the middle of the ball. Which means that my feeties are off the floor and kicking around in the air. Which means that I’m practically practising for the circus ball balancing act. It’s not elegant and I squeal a lot. Much to the amusement of everyone around me.

So the question becomes, dear people, how the fuck do you sit on this thing?

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Don’t get me wrong, I’m well versed in how to do sit ups with them and lunges and all manner or exercises that hurt your lower body. But sitting? Who thought it would be so hard…

Is there a relevant youtube video I can watch to sit on said ball? Does anyone have any tips? How do I stop myself from sliding off it like a squidgie and splatter on the floor?

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Books books books books…

You know, I have some really bloody talented women in my blogosphere.

And a few of them actually wrote a book. Which you should go read because they are both fantastic writers. I have both books on my to read list after I’ve finished my current book.

So without much ado, first up is Beth. She’s got a beautiful soul and makes me laugh and cry at some of her posts. And her book is Order of Seven and you can get it on Amazon as a paperback or e-book. What are you waiting for! Go bookmark it.

Here’s the blurb about it from Goodreads:

“Eighteen-year-old Devi Bennett is surrounded by mysteries: her unknown heritage, a recurring dream about an African tribal ceremony, an inexplicable attachment to a certain tree and a psychic ability she’ll never understand—unless she finds her biological parents.

Things take a shocking turn when she meets Baron, an intense and alluring energy healer who receives prophetic dreams which all seem connected to her. Devi must rely on an empath, a seer, and Baron to help research her roots to discover who she is and what she is capable of. But when Baron’s visions lead to an ancient legend which may link to her birthright, Devi learns her gift is more imperative than she thought imaginable.

Equal parts suspenseful and sexy, philosophical and adventurous, ORDER OF SEVEN delivers a story that will leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about the hands that carry fate.”

Second is Mandi. Mandi is just as Beth, a sweet soul with a lot to give. She’s also just finished a book and it’s in my to read pile as well. She has her book out which is titled Dear Stephanie and available for purchase through Amazon as a paperback or e-book.

And the quick peek at the book:

“Paige Preston wants to end her life. After an unsuccessful attempt, she lands herself in mandatory therapy with a sexy psychiatrist. When he and an even more alluring friend begin to help her break down the walls she’s spent a lifetime building, Paige begins to see something bigger than herself. Is it enough to pull her out of her dark world and help her finally feel like a human? Or will letting someone in be the final step toward her demise?

Dear Stephanie is a sinfully addictive walk through a world of beauty, affluence, and incidental love that effortlessly moves the reader between laughter, tears, heartache, and hope with the turn of every “Paige.””

I feel honoured knowing such talented women and I can’t wait to spend time with you both in the bath with my glass of wine. Promise I won’t post pictures of said reading time.

But if you’re in the book reading frame of mind and want some light reading that will captivate you and keep you turning the pages, give them a go. You won’t be disappointed. Promise.

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Moved in, yet waiting to move in…

You know that limbo land you inhabit when most of your shit is still in boxes? I’m in that land.

My mother’s house is littered in my boxes and clothes and general shit. From cat carriers to take sick kitty to the vet to washed clothes to folded dry clothes but no draws to put them in.

My life feels like I may have moved locations, but I’m yet to move in so to speak… Cern has been lovely and helpful and keeping my sick cat company. But we’ve now gotten him a job (YAY YOU SEXY PANTS!) and from today my kitty will be all alone in the house. I envision coming home to all the photo’s mum has littered around the house face down on the floor because when I’m home he knows he isn’t allowed up on the benches. But it’s fair game when I leave him alone. I swear he would be knocking them down one at a time in the hopes that I’ll come barrelling from one end of the house squealing at him to stop being such a cuntycat.

The vet said this week will be the week that we need to keep a close eye on him because if he’s going to regress, it will be this week as his antibiotics wear off. He tried to kill me this morning as I tried to navigate to the bathroom through the box maze to pee before I peed myself because I was busting so hard so obviously he’s feeling fine today. I didn’t even stumble my steps as he latched himself around my naked thigh and howled at me to feed him.

So if it’s not my cat chasing me around the house it’s Cern. I’ve been sick, he was adamant that I needed to let him spray some gunk into the back of my throat. Now to be clear, the gunk he wanted to spray was medication. But I’ve had that medication before and it might send my throat numb and help with the pain, but it was like spraying the back of your throat with what I can only imagine a week old cum smells and tastes like. Which is fine for most people, but I’m a special case. It makes me throw up. So here I was getting naked to have a shower when he picks up said week-old-cum-in-a-spray-bottle and proceeds to chase me around the house with it while I squeal begging to not. He finally cornered me in the shower, I thought I would be safe in there. Obviously I was wrong.

We finally came to a compromise. He made me gargle (hahaha gargle, I drown when I gargle! He rolled his eyes at me when he realised that I was drowning trying to gargle the green liquid – I’m sure I would have been fine if it had been tequila instead…) this other green stuff that made my tongue and mouth go numb instead and I was pretty sure as I was trying to yell at him in the shower I was drooling and my tongue was flapping around without any control.

Suffice to say that I’m suckful when I’m sick. I get sooky and mopey and just a downright little shit to be around. Cern can attest to this.

Good news is that I finally found a bed that I want and it’s being built as we speak from real Australian woods and delivered to me in the next few weeks. At which point I can start moving into the bedroom! Hurrah! Did I mention that the Australian made and run company that sells Australian wooden furniture was cheaper than Ikea? Damn straight. So being that I am me, I wrote on the Ikea Australia facebook page about how disappoint I was with their offerings. They’ve been ignoring me. Figures.

So if you’re in the area and looking for awesome Australian furniture, then go to King Style on King Street in Newtown. It’s near the St Peters end of King St and I promise you won’t be disappoint. Like I was. In Ikea.

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Stories telling stories

The other night we got to watch an 80s movie with the producer and some actors in residence for a Q&A afterwards.

To say that I was pleasantly surprised by the movie is an understatement. I wondered why I hadn’t seen the movie before now as it is a timeless art house production.

What’s the movie? It’s called The Navigator: A Medieval Odyssey.

It’s about men in a 14th century Scottish mining town trying to escape the Black Death. And in doing so you’re transported with them to 20th Century New Zealand in a quest to save the village of the plague.

Only there’s a twist. And I’m not going to tell you what it is.

But one thing the producer said during the Q&A struck home. It’s a story about a story. And sometimes those are the most powerful stories. And I think this story actually moved me. It was engaging and interesting. You have what the fuck moments but then it still keeps you interested.

And then when the lights came back on we were surprised to spot my friend a few seats down. Being that she’s a huge rock star I didn’t expect to see her at a small art house screening in Parramatta! Score.

Onto a personal note: I’ve been a bit quiet because I’m still unpacking and haven’t set up my computer as yet. And we had a storm rage through Sydney and the Central Coast (anywhere else in the world it would have been classified a cat 2 cyclone) last week that has caused a lot of damage which means I’ve been working super long hours trying to get power back to people who were going 10 days without power by the end there. It’s been 2 weeks of irrationality, stupidity and perseverance.

I can’t wait to go back to my mundane work week next week.