Thank you for being my friends

This last seven days has seen me lean on my closest friends and on my family to get through the challenges. My support network is amazing and if I don't say it enough: Thank you.

Thank you to Allison Carleton for being my voice of reason and for giving me sanctuary in every storm.

Thank you to Bernarda Maia for never letting me apologise for who I am and always offering to help me bury the bodies.

Thank you to Taylor-Trina Kadiba for being my loyal, loving and always supportive sister. You are my best friend.

Thank you to Candace Wong for making me laugh when I wanted to cry, usually at her but also at myself.

Thank you to Ola Kl for reminding me that I am awesome even when I don't feel like I am. And for making it ok to have You're So Vain as my life soundtrack.

Thank you to Bruce Cartland for tolerating my stupidity and always lifting me up.

Thank you to Evelyn Moreno for showing empathy and letting me be myself.

Thank you to Janet Wong for being endlessly kind and sincerely celebrating and sharing every achievement with me for my entire career.

And although we are not facebook friends, thank you to my boss who kicks my arse at the right times and sits and shows compassion when it counts.

Thanks to everyone else for always being kind. It counts whether it is in cyberspace or meatspace. I am honoured and humbled.

The Lieutenant

My eighth book of 2014 is The Lieutenant by Kate Grenville. This is the best book I have read this year and Australians should have to read this. It is fiction but based in facts around the First Fleet.

The story is so relevant to recent events in my life that I related to the point of tears. Even if you aren't where I am in a place of hopelessness and acceptance, you will find this book brilliant.

Without the usual guilt you get from tales of the English meeting the original Australians, this book bases the history we all know in compassion.

You will see that world and moment in time through the eyes of a physicist who falls in love with a black girl but can not love her because he has made a commitment to a life that he chose before he discovered who he was.

There is a scene in the book where the protagonist realises that he didn't find the person he was until he met this amazingly brilliant woman who he could be himself with. As if he became a person because she accepted and expected he was that. They shared a love of language and a great intellect but existed in a time and place where it was not allowed. They shared a mutual respect.

There is so much more to this book than a love story. There is a love of science and of history. Kate Grenville is an amazing writer who took me there. There, where everyone should go.

Should I read this? Oh my goodness, yes.
What did I learn? Life is not something that you should let happen to you. You should experience it. Live it. Love through it. Fail. Get up again. Learn and learn some more. Regret nothing.

How Manly You Are

After a night breaking shoe rules at inner-west parties, this rebel awoke to a medium to rare headache. Maybe it was the projectile expulsion the previous night but I felt slightly seedy and not overly precious on Sunday.

Allison and Kellie had been at an all you can drink foodie and wine birthday dinner the night Bernarda and I rocked Linda's housewarming but that didn't stop Allison from going for her normal swim. Today it was at the heated outdoor salt water pool under the coat hanger in Milson's Point. That is an iconic pool. It's one of the first sites I found when Google Earth Street View came online with Sydney snaps.

That area means a lot to me. Milson's Point. I used to work at a company called BCode with Sydney offices above Luna Park. In summer my days consisted of witty repartee with an Irish hardware engineer I wish I'd married and the day long screams from Luna Park-goers riding the scary rides.

Luna Park rides aren't like new parks where you accelerate towareds the ground at the speed of fright. They are those old rickety rides that make you wonder mid-ride if they have been doing the regular maintenance and what years of wear and tear can do to steel. Thus the screaming soundtrack while we worked. The view rocked, if that helps.

Allison chose a good pool for a cold winter Sydney day of swimming. She did however demonstrate the frustration of commuting to Manly on a weekend. Getting from Milson's Point to Manly requires a ferry ride back to Circular Quay and on tp Manly. Not a shirt ride or the most crow flyey path.

The easy enough journey to Manly was made painful by the hangovers that we all had persist past lunch time. Bernie and I were meant to meet a Circular Quay but after we realized we were about to miss the ferry, I got my kindly taxi driver to swoop by pick he up somewhere between Darling Habour and Circula Quay. Sydney people know that area as a deadspot aimed at tourists and lost folk... often interchangeable.

After rescuing B from no mans land, we sat at the ferry terminal and tried to make conversation. It was a major fail and she declared that Candy would be the only one without a hangover and this our only hope. Candy is intolerant of alcohol and can't drink. She's so much the Enetgiser Bunny that it lessens no outing when she attends. Candy was leaving home after giving a maths tutorial and was running about an hour late. No, half an hour with our detoxicating disadvantage.

That slut of a city (as referred to by Bernie) had a calm harbor this day. Luckily for my rolling tummy and the packed ferry of tourists crossing the ditch with me. The sail boats were out and the sun was shining so after my body turned suitably numb, it was quite a beautiful day.

We ended up at a microbrewery, known mainly to the locals. It's always amusing to listen to Manly locals bitch about the hoards of tourists in their British accents. Hate those invaders.

Within arriving, I finished my smuggled in Red Bull and started on Kellie's hair of the dog cure of bubbly, lemonade and oj. It's a personal mix but works wonders for postponing the hangover until later. During this micro-cure for a macro-hinderance in a microbrewery, I managed to hit an attractive blonde waiter while telling an exaggerated story requiring massive hand movements.

That was nothing on K's rant about "gingers" and why they are devil spawn. A post for another day and another writer probably.

We spent hours there and then by a fire in another pub. Candy arrived with her new haircut that for some reason encourages men to approach her and share their secret fantasies of dressing her up as an anime character. It's amazing what people think it is ok to say to one hairstyle that you simply can not say to another hairstyle. If only men realized that we women don't change our looks or dress each morning with their fantasies in mind. *sigh*

I sat there in the last pub doing my best to imbibe an enthusiastically purchased final bottle of bubbles. We were all forcing it down at that stage. No hair of the dog would help at this stage. The hangovers had caught us while we were at our tired weakness and unable to hold them back with our 30 something denial.

Thinking at that point of how rare an afternoon I was having in spending hours eating, drinking, hitting attractive men and discussing life, the universe and everything with my four best friends, I smiled. It was a smile that warmed me from the curls on my head to the heels on my feet and all the bits in the middle. That or I was too near the fireplace. I'll believe the former.

I'm too lucky with this friends thing. Telling Bernie on the boat ride home that a person's friend portfolio tells you more about them then any brand they outwardly portray, I realized that I'm surrounded by brains, beauty, charisma and kindness in spades.

It didn't matter that the place was Manly, it was a day for the girls.

Airplanes

Airplanes. A great place to write. I spend so much time on them writing stuff that I wonder if that is why I travel at all. It is the perfect place to write. I can sit in a cluster fuck of people and ignore them completely. Pump the music up and chip away at the thoughts in my head.

This time, it was Sydney and Canberra that borrowed me for a while. It was meant to be more Sydney than The Capital but minds changed and plans went with them. Don't ask me why. I'm not sure I know why yet.



Bernarda was the first to see, squee and hug me on arrival in Sydney. We jumped out of separate taxis outside Allison's place in Surry Hills across the street from each other. Wielding a bottle of bubbly and the sweetest, most loving smile she greeted me. Reminding me why Sydney is another home for me. A place I belong and long for.

On this plane, they are serving food but I only want a red wine. I used to worry about the order of things before. Like dessert after dinner, when I now have it before if my mood guides me there. There is the rule of wine with food. Responsible service of alcohol except when the food is plane food and eating that is not so responsible.

Ahhh.... responsible. I want to only ever write it with a lower case R. It is far too big a word already, without engrossing its importance. Feeding its ego with stress and overvalue.

Bernarda and I got Allison's neighbor Claudette to let us in to her place. Claudette knew to expect a Brazilian called Bernie or a Darwin girl called Damana to turn up and ask to be let in. We took the third compound option and the neighbour smiled as she let us in. We know the people on that street very well. Allison has been there for a long time and I lived four doors up from her for a short time. That was at a time when my life was falling apart and I couldn't keep my ducks in a row.

Oh, do ask me about ducks later. There is a story there.

We let ourselves in to Allison's and as Bernarda grabbed the flutes, I opened my suitcase and made the big decisions. Must I change out of my Black Milk lace bell bottom tights or would they sensibly help me acclimatize?

We got distracted by the glasses of bubbly and discussions of new wave condoms before important lacey-like decisions could be made. The bottle was empty as we swanned out the door and hailed a cab heading for Linda's place in Marrickville.

Marrickville to me will always be a suburb close to the airport that is home to one of Australia's best boxers. It will also now be the suburb Linda lives in, where a week earlier down the street a man shot himself in the head when cornered by police for a recent criminal act. Associations.

Linda is an American friend who was having a housewarming. For some reason I always end up at her parties and leave said parties with trouble trailing loose behind and many incriminating photos imprinted in digital worlds.



This party was no exception. The moment when you hear yourself declare "let's make these photos look hilarious for facebook" is often the end to what could have been a fun and reserved night. I don't know if it was the mulled wine or the shots of grey goose in large plastic party cups but all I remember after that declaration is lying on Allison's couch and requesting a bucket with some water in the bottom.

Seeing Linda later for a girly cheese dinner brought out another Damana Sex And The City moment. Apparently, on arriving at Linda's she asked me to remove my shoes. Everyone else had but I kept ignoring the instructions and giving one reason that I thought would explain everything. "These are Campers heels". This seemed like a free pass to break the no shoes rule. Even lying on Linda's bed in shoes.

Fortunately, Linda is nothing but class. She expressed her discontent and we continued a lively night of wine and cheese and wine. Next time, I'll find an attractive man to help me take me shoes off. That could be the new doorman for Sydney inner-west parties.

Get your freak on

As I muddy the waters between depression and recovered, the insights in to what goes on in a depressed person's head abound.

Today is a great example of a day that I would have described as "fragile", before I learnt to cope with the negative thoughts. Instead, I realise my brain is hyper-sensitive to the body language of people around me. It takes a small look and interprets it in the worst way possible.

There was a moment a few years ago in Pitt St Mall when I was bumped by a gigantic handbag that a lady was carrying. She turned back and spoke a sincere sorry. There was no malice. It was an accident and no harm came from it. I walked on to work, one block away in the centre of Sydney CBD. It was a typical work day and the place was full of suits, shoppers and buskers.

Once inside the sanctuary of some huge financial institution, I sprinted for the ladies bathroom. There, I locked myself in a stall and cried like I did the day I was born. Maybe I was gulping for air. Maybe I was lost in the self-torture that convinced me that woman with the bag hated me.

Although irrational, it felt true. I was certain that life could not possibly improve and that I would never recover from her bagging me.

Years have passed since that day. Nothing feels that dire these days. Most things are quite funny and leave me in tears of silliness. They are lighter tears that carry you through a moment that could break a lesser Mana.

Today, I'm dressed in cool comic book tights and a flowing white top proclaiming in black ink and rhinestones, my love for shoes. The knee high velvet black boots complete the outfit with a nice upper cut.

In my usual Surry Hills scene, I'd fit in with all the other people who simply don't. I'd walk passed people and admire their comic book tees or purple suede boots on funky jeans, with great haircuts.

In Darwin, I'm a freak. People stare. Teenage girls mumble "oh my god". Mothers pull their children from my path.

You can't say I fit in here. It's not great to be looked at constantly but I must honour who I am and what I want to express. To blend in to Darwin, like all the others would be like a silent death... a drowning.

Does it hurt when people see me this way? Does it make me angry? Do I withdraw and cry?

Nope. I keep on keeping on.

I plan for the next time when I'll get my freak on.

Closure

Today was one of those perfect Sydney summer days. Up early and with all my chores done by midday, I spent a few hours chilling on the couch and taking in the peace around me.

Fingers crossed, I'll be starting a new job soon and the next chapter of life starts. It's time for it. I'm excited and happy. This is the way I want life to be.

Goodbye to some things and hello to new ones. Goodbye to old friends and hello to new ones.

Life is pretty awesome.

My New Superpowers

When you think nothing else could go wrong, something does. If you cry then it's going to get you even more than it just did. If you stand outside yourself and look at it then you can often have a big laugh. These things give the best stories. I'm sure you'll read a post in the future that laughs even harder at this.

Do you all remember Spiderman? He was bitten by a radioactive spider and it made him so crazy he kissed Kirsten Dunst? Poor guy.



And then there are people who are bitten by a wolf and end up having excessive facial hair issues and the major grumps once a month. Not unlike a few women I know. Now there will be a picture of a half naked Taylor Lautner, for no real reason. Oh yeah, he was a werewolf in that Twilight movie.


Well, you know how I was not supposed to walk around much on that broken foot of mine? This rule was just enforced by a pesky little arachnid.


I don't know what the little bastard looked like but I'd say the picture above is pretty close from what I remember.

Brilliant me decided to take a street parallel to Bourke St, in order to avoid people. I am not all that Paris Hilton today. I have been wearing around thongs (flip flops for the Americans) to be nice to my broken foot. I stepped over a pile of rubbish that looked like what used to be an office chair or ninja training ground. It was easy enough to avoid but did push me towards a fence and a pile of old leaves and other outdoorsy type materials.

That is where my friend, apparently a wolf spider, lay in wait. They are super shy but he may have heard about my recent unkind words towards introverts because he stuck his evil little fangs in to the side-ish bottom-bit of my left foot.

It didn't exactly hurt straight away. It was more like a little prick. Then it got very painful and incredibly itchy. It's not deadly poisonous to humans because we are so damn big but it hurts and is swollen. The doctors at St Vincent's cleaned up the bite and gave me antibiotics. Apparently, it could get infected and... oh good, all those horrible urban legends of spider bites come to mind. Quick, change the topic.

I'm lying on the couch. Am supposed to ice the foot once in a while. That helps the swelling. I have a plaster over the bite and it looks like a mosquito bite with more lumpiness.

Who knows what will happen next? I don't think I've read a comic book with enough information to help me deal with being a Spiderwoman Werewolf Superchick. Maybe I'll end up kissing Kirsten Dunst like flat chested women and then biting their faces off.

That is a superpower being used for good, right?

Surry Hills' Secret Life

The personality of the suburb of Surry Hills is very much a reflection of the people who live in it. Let me explain.

Overwhelmed with excitement at the return of AC from an overseas trip, I was up nice and early (two hours too early in fact) and decided a nice early morning stroll was in order. It's a fresh crisp Spring Sunday morning in Sydney. Most of the streets have road blocks on them for the 2010 Sydney Marathon. Police are loitering at corners ensuring cars don't go where they need to go. Pedestrians are allowed to wander around, and I was.

On the second street I turned on to, I had first the displeasure and then acceptance that my path would be painted with vomit.

You see, by day Surry Hills is a funky little suburb sprayed with cafes, boutiques, neat terraced houses, pubs pretending to slum it and the wide variety of people who frequent those places.

There are the little old ladies who yell at the skeg sk8er boys going clunk clunk clunk passed the late-in-life mothers pushing thousand dollar prams around the 19 year old homeless guy who is calling out names at the gay couple who didn't drop him change. And don't forget the hipsters with their deliberately mismatched aged designer label outfits, who smirk at the try hard bogans as they complain about the over-priced beer.

It's eclectic, to state the obvious.

In the evening on the weekend, she transforms. This funky suburb goes home after a late afternoon lunch with machiatto and puts on her coolest threads, then goes drinking; eating; dancing; prancing; and afterward, vomiting.

As some of us wake early and shower then take in the fresh cold morning during a walk, others are not finished partying. They stagger alone or in rowdy unsteady gangs up the streets. They discuss such topics as "how good was that thing?" and "are you sure this is the right direction?"

Sophisticated Surry Hills had a bit too much to drink last night and she's a little precious. I sure hope those over achieving marathon runners keep it down as they stomp passed her.

Which came first - the freak or the egg?

Surry Hills is an interesting place. I've spent 3+ years living here, which is the entirety of my time in Sydney. I've ventured out to stay in North Bondi (NoBo) and Manly lately and this has given me an entirely different take on Sydney.

Just now, I returned home (to a friend's place I'm cat sitting at) after breakfast and a visit to the local grocer. There was a girl power walking with weights, up and down the small street. She was wearing some kind of shiny black plastic tracksuit. I was chatting to the neighbours as she went by over and over again. Finally, I asked what kind of material it is. I only asked. She jumped away from our group and screamed "don't touch me!"

For the record, I had no intention of touching her. I was standing behind two 70+ year old ladies. We all stood there and stared as she swore a few times and walked down the street.

There are these moments in Surry Hills when I wonder if people act like freaks because they are scared of freaks or because they are freaks.

It maybe one of those chicken and egg things. They are all freaks.

Recover

Imagine if everything you ever did in your life amounted to nothing because for 6 months of your time on Earth negated it all.

At the beginning of last year, I was the sickest I have ever been in my life. If I'm granted no other wish while I live, may I have this one. The wish that I will never see as dark a time and feel as much pain in my soul as I did then.

Through it all, I tried to hang on to my work. Ines told me to work through it and that would help me focus and deal. Lindsay said that anti-depressants would take the edge off and I would then be able to cope. In the end, it was my mother who was right. She gave me a place to go and rest where my existence was peaceful and my soul had the time it needed to heal.

Coming back to Sydney has taken a strength that I never truly thought that I possessed. For all the years since I learned to read, I have lived in books with magical tales of amazing people who faced struggles that none of us would surely survive and they damn well survived them. My path to 2009 was quite a tranquil one. Life went as planned by my parents and then my ruling husband and I plodded along it sublimely happy.

Then reality struck. The hardships that I only read of came to visit. They stayed as unwelcome visitors and would not leave me. In the end, I packed up all my belongings and went away to the one home I knew I would always have. Over the last 9 months in Darwin, I have tried and failed and tried and succeeded and then tried and failed again. There was a point I reached when I realised that it was time to go and try again but in Sydney. Oh Sydney, the place where I did not only fail but watched the life I had wash down a vomit filled Surry Hills drain. There was no way in hell that I was going to let the past defeat me... to scare me away from the life I want and the way I wish to be. Who I am, I guess.

Today marks one week back in my old stomping grounds. In this manic city, it feels like a life time has passed in only 7 days. I've succeeded, celebrated, rejoiced, cried, been picked up, loved, hated, ignored, kicked and finally failed.

The option of running back to Darwin has entered my mind. Will I ever get a job and a chance to work again in this town? Will people forgive me for the horror that was my last six months living in Sydney, last year? Will anyone ever understand how hard it is to try again when you know you stuffed up big time?

If your life has fallen apart, really really fallen apart at one stage in your existence then you will understand what I am saying. All I want is a chance. A chance to stand on over a decade of proving I am a great engineer and a good person. A chance to make up for the time when I could hardly find the strength to get out of bed.

The problem with this world is that we are all pretending that we are ok. A lot of people aren't. I am one of the few lucky people to say that I have had the chance to truly get to know myself and like who I am. I'm not pretending to be ok because the truth is, I'm pretty damn well. Life will kick and trip me but I will persist. One day, I will be back at my best. That day is not far away.

The people - be they friends; employers; strangers; or whoever I meet - who give me a chance now will benefit from the even more amazing person I will be when I fully hit my stride again.

Those who choose not to take a chance and turn away are going to miss out. Life is there for the taking but it belongs to those of us who risk appearing ok and actually strive to be better than that.

On the cusp of this difficult week of adjustment and the good week that lies ahead, I will keep going on in a positive direction. Upward and onwards.

Stick around.

Starting Sydney

When you return to the place where it all went wrong, there is a very good chance that you can fall back in to old habits and watch it all go wrong again. The thing is that life is not something for me to watch happening to myself, like rubbernecking a multi-car pile up.

Last night, I celebrated my 34th birthday with a bunch of Sydney friends. It was a typical crazy night that leaves us with plenty of stories and much to deny. There were glamourous shoes on beautiful people, who were saying intelligent things in sophisticated accents. The French champagne flowed freely like the shouts of laughter in retort to someone's witty comment. The extroverts took their positions, claiming their audience and executing tried and true enchantments to hold the watchers captive.

When this is the world you are used to living in, it is very easy to collapse back in to your usual role. The one that people know and almost expect. The closest thing I can compare it to is getting dumped by a big wave, in to the hard sandy bottom of a beach. You can struggle and fight and push up and refuse to swallow the water but the wave is king and it is going to take you down with it. Slamming in to soft sand still hurts. Being winded is never nice. The wave takes you where it always takes you.

My friend Cathie McGinn said to me this morning... "I think you can live a new life in a familiar city." She does have a way with words. One of those people who you can blabber on and on to for five sentences with all the wrong punctuation and brain dump disorganisation of a forming thought and she will summarise succinctly in response. You know she isn't just listening to you but also hearing you.

My life is blessed with these sage like people who for some unknown reason are willing to spend time with me... this jagged little pill. I've always said that you can best judge a person by the company they keep. Your pedigree is the sum of the quality of your friends and the depth of your friendships with them.

To escape the wave and avoid getting sucked in and body slammed, this chapter of my life must be approached in a different way. No more talk of things "happening to me" but instead more talk of "making decisions". Less thinking of regrets and more living life in a way that leaves me respecting who I am.

These are 3 things that I vow to do to make life different:

1. Take life slowly. Absorb each moment and take from it only what is worthwhile and positive. Mistakes will be made. There will be failures but that is a normal part of the journey. Being mindful of each step will allow for better decisions and more favourable life outcomes.
   
   
2. Respect yourself and others. Give the same consideration to yourself as you do to others. Be aware of boundaries and limits with each different person. Actively show that people are important and valuable. Do not take anyone for granted. Set boundaries and limits for yourself and honour them.
   
   
3. Improve your mind. Spend more time reading, learning and listening. This life is short and there is so much to do and know. Chose carefully what you will spend your time absorbing and focus on goals that will bring you closer to a beautiful mind.

Wish me luck and remind me of this if I start surfing that wave again.

I'm leaving Sydney

I went to look for a picture in iPhoto that would sum up Sydney and there wasn't just one. I guess this blog is the total of it. The happiness, the pain and all the wonderful friends. It's been a beautiful time in my life and one I've used to grow in to who I think I really am.

What you hear is true, I'm leaving Sydney to return home to Darwin.

This was not as hard a decision as I thought. Sydney is not the same as it once was for me. There are many reasons to stay but many many more to go.

To say I will miss you, doesn't really express it enough. I hope you keep reading this blog and find my life just as dramatic and interesting and mundane as ever :)

I'll be around until the end of October.

Change

They say a change is a good as a holiday. This time I found that a holiday was as good as change. The only thing was that returning to _normal_ life showed me that I needed something new. Maybe it's a new approach or a new focus. Maybe it's a change of scenery and a new challenge.

Since it's almost Spring in beautiful Sydney, this is the perfect moment for it.

I used to worry when I made decisions that whatever I chose, someone would end up disappointed in me. Now, my only concern is making sure that I'm not disappointed in me.

That is most certainly a change for the better.

There are schemes afoot and adventures to be had. Life is too short to not take chances. Wish me well and forgive me if the choice I made would not have been yours.

Distrubing window display

There is a shop that sells textiles (I think) in Surry Hills called Bird. A few nights ago, I walked passed it and was quite thrown by it's window display. It makes me not want to go in there at all, ever.

Surry Hills Festival 2009

Mum and I spent an hour or so at the Surry Hills Festival on Saturday. We bought bags, ate corn and took lots of pictures. Here are some now...

The licorice man

Aweome wind chime things

Mum with lunch

A strange stand that sold only roman stuff

A beautiful wall. I like walls

Adriano Zumbo

There is a magical patissier in Balmain that will make chocolate, flour and sugar dance in your mouth. He is Adriano Zumbo.

On Sunday I took my Dad there. See more pictures here.

I once went in and bought an Agadoo, named after the Black Lace song. It had pineapple in it and I broke in to song. Come on, I couldn't help it :) The woman serving at the counter said "oh thank you, finally! Someone gets it" and she smiled. Apparently I made her day.

It's awesome when that happens - you make someone's day and end up with a pineapple pastry. That does not happen enough.

Family

My sister and her husband visited for three nights and four days, to help me reorganise and cope with my life after G left me. I thought it would be a sad time with lots of reminiscing but we ended up having a fabulous whirlwind tour of Sydney which included Taronga Zoo, Paddy's Market, Ikea buying and assembling and lots of other adventures. It was fun. They left yesterday. I miss them already and feel quite alone. My Dad is here now so I'll be ok.

My family are awesome!

Trina + Taylor on the Taronga Ferry as we leave Circular Quay

Drinking those brightly coloured drinks made of sago, with beads in them. Mei would be proud :)

Taylor holding a diamond head python. He wants a snake. uck!

The reptile house was the least fun of all

A heartbroken girl shopping at Paddy's Market

Sydney Wine Festival

Last weekend, I spent a lovely morning with friends at the Sydney Wine Festival. There was wine tasting made easy with a plastic glass and tokens you could use at any stall. It did convince me that Hunter Valley wines are mostly miss or miss. I will continue to avoid them.

The highlight was the food, with Becasse serving plates of food at very reasonable prices. I also got to meet the cute French chefs and get the complimentary voucher for a glass of sparking the next time I eat there. They did not have to work hard to convince me. I will be visiting my favourite Sydney restaurant again. Getting the chance to sit in the sun and eat their food was a lovely surprise.

This is one event I will go to in the future if I am in Sydney while it is on again.

Bogan Bingo

A couple of weeks ago, I ended up spending a fun Friday evening hanging out with friends and playing Bogan Bingo. No, that's not a judgement. That was the name they called it.

The two hosts had beer guts and mullets (fake apparently) and played bad 80's music while making crass jokes. The food was awful and the table next to us was very drunk but despite this, it was a fun-filled night :) Kelly won a meat tray and we played about 50 games between the 4 of us over 2 hours.

It was enjoyable so I do recommend doing it once but never again for me. Deepest apologies to our Iranian friend who smiled and took it in her stride. Too bad we couldn't tell her that anywhere else in Australia, that would just be normal :)

Nine Inch Nails in Sydney

NIN played in Sydney last week. After 5 songs, all the power went out and we were left only with emergency lighting. I tweeted it straight away and found that so had hundreds of other fans standing in the dark wondering what was going on. The bar was closed at that point. Apparently, they took out the entire block. It took 25 minutes for them to get the power back. They followed that with a quick sound check and then another 90 minutes of fantastic live Nails. It was worth waiting around and I am glad that Jane convinced me to stay.

My friend Kellie and I ended up very close to the front. The pictures don't do our prime spot justice but the inability to hear in my right ear was proof.

They finished with Head Like a Hole and I dedicated that song to me for this point in my life. It suits me just right.

Last time I saw NIN was also at Horden Pavillion at Fox Studios. It was the night I came home and did the coding test for my ThoughtWorks interview. I remember that so well. G and I went to that one. This time was different and awesome. Next time they visit, I'll get closer and go deaf in both ears :)

On the walk home, I came across this sign...