Surviving without 8 hours per night

I've been such a busy thing recently, surviving on too little sleep, leaving wet towels in the washing machine for up to a week because I've forgotten about them and all the time limping through each day.

I know I'm not good when I'm really really tired - I get worked up over little things and I lose my sense of proportion. The best thing I can do is to withdraw from people and sleep but I haven't had that luxury so I'm glad to say that I've managed to keep myself in check. To the world I've looked calm, cheery and very busy. One of my staff apparently commented to another that it was amazing that I could be so relaxed when I'm rushing from one thing to another, and as a result I was her idol.

I also managed to negotiate a difficult situation between two colleagues (Mr Elder Statesman and Mr Most Distinguished Gent). MRS and MMDG don't get along and we we all needed to work together on the urgent Very Important Thing. I managed to pull the VIT together without seeming to be taking one side or another, and put in extra hours to ensure that we went above and beyond the call in terms of what was required. The persons who benefit from VIT were happy. MES thanked me while MMDG who has never been my biggest fan told me he was very impressed and he recognised my diplomacy skills. All this while I've been getting 3-4 hours sleep per night.

So just as the crazy hours ebbed away I started to feel happy (maybe a bit too smug) and think that I may have conquered this tiredness thing I get a call from MMDG. I'd made a small but embarrassing mistake on VIT - one that I thought about at the time and made a call on. When he pointed it out to me, I realised that of course I was wrong. Of course this realisation came too late as I momentarily tried to explain my decision. I could hear him sigh over the phone and with that exhalation went his good opinion of me.

The mistake will have little practical consequence but makes me look unprofessional. I've apologised but I'm not sure it has had any effect.

So now I have enough time for 8 hours a night, but I can't get that much sleep as I have a hollow feeling at the pit of my stomach as I churn over my mistake again and again and again.

Sometimes being a woman just sucks

At various times and to varying degrees we have to put up with:

• crappy PMT symptoms, back pain and tiredness not to mention the physiological effects which if internalised can range from feeling mildly irritated through to ego-swamping feelings of being insecure, unattractive and genuinely horrid;
• the odd accompanying outward displays of emotion which can include wanting to cry or actually crying for little reason and/or the occasional wig out (which hardly endears one to one's loved ones);*
• having to take medical responsibility to avoid unwanted contraception, even if that has unwanted side-effects;
• all sorts of intrusive medical tests where one's breasts get handled and squashed or one has to deal with cold metal implements while being told to "just relax";
• worrying about the process of and/or the results of above;
• being told that ways to avoid risks of nasty cancers is to abstain from too much sex or alcohol and to have children before the age of 30. Lets face it that sounds to many of us like a crap lifestyle choice. At that age I would have dealt with some young un's mostly through the therapeutic use of gin;
• the whole fertility use by date thing;
• patronising car salesmen;
• patronising car mechanics;
• the risk of getting assaulted when trying to get home late at night because the public transport is not staffed and not well lit, and because taxi drivers just occasionally turn out to be rapists;
• the odd bit of sexual harassment in the workplace; and almost as importantly
• not being able to twist the bloody lid off bottles .

* I hate hate hate to admit this has been me sometimes and I'm embarrassed by it. For reasons related to the damn useful but pesky pill it got really bad a few years ago. I read some of my previous posts and see it in the subtext. Maybe a blog edit is in order.

What a year!

I can't believe it is already December and I have, despite my best intentions, been very neglectful of my little blog.

The last few months have been, um, challenging. All sorts of tricky career issues, some big life questions surrounding said career, money worries arising from career crisis and a general malaise has kept me from cutting loose and enjoying myself. Anyway I'm off on holidays again this week - warmer climes in Asia await me and I really, really, really need a break. I will try to post from various destinations, as much to ensure that I retain some of my vocabulary and my brain doesn't turn to mush as I start to properly relax.


2007 has been a good year for me, despite recent concerns. The Man is a good soul and whilst he ain't the most romantic type who gives flowers or utters spontaneous declarations of affection, he has treated me very very well. Up to now I have kept this little blog private, although he knows I have one and has threatened to search for it. I think the fear of discovery has kept me from writing more freely, but I think I am waaaay overestimating his interest in finding this site so I intend to write more often and more freely.

I've also had a good year in terms of myself - sounds corny but I really quite look who I am and how I treat others, and despite the worries and business I can look back on the year and feel proud of who I am. Good to reflect on that every so often.

I am also so so so happy to see little Johnny Howard fall off his perch. I still have to get over my aversion to the phrase "The Prime Minister said" uttered by ABC journalists. I instantly recoil and then have to remind myself that we have a new PM, one who doesn't subscribe to an outdated, racist, lowest common denominator, vote buying, poll driven agenda.

This year I have got myself a new car, taken more photos, bought myself some wicked lipstick, dropped a few pesky kilos around the midsection enabling me to rediscover a few old faves from the wardrobe, had this blog namedropped in The Age, challenged myself at work, spoiled a few good friends, eaten at most of Melbourne's fabulous restaurants (oh the benefits of dating) loved, slept in, cuddled, laughed and got through it all taking life seriously, but not myself.

And that, dear friends, is the secret of Ms B's happiness.

If I don't read your words or catch up with your worlds before the end of the year, Merry Christmas or other appropriate religious/pagan/capitalist shopping event and a happy new year.

I'm off to finish my packing!

Back in Batville (but planning my next trip)

How time flies – a whole month since I last posted. So I'm back in Melbourne, reasonably refreshed and considerably more penurious after my overseas extravagance. During my holiday I mostly stayed away from email and reminders from home, hence no travel blogging. (Besides which reading about Dr Haneef made me so angry I thought it best not to check out what was going on). I'm only just back but it all seems to be fading into the background now so I don't think I will depress myself and recount my fabulous times in detail.

Needless to say I had a lovely trip – The Man and I generally got on extremely well and we survived the whole driving/navigating together thing. I saw great art, magnificent scenery, breathtaking views and the odd historical building. I walked and walked until I had blisters, I read none of the books I took over, I swam in warm water and I only did a smidgen of shopping. I met interesting people, stupid people and travelled with delightful old friends and less delightful moody newer acquaintances. I spent money on great accommodation, expensive dinners and alcohol.

The nice thing about getting away is that it gives you time to think and get your priorities in order. Whilst I like to think of myself as a traveller I am often guilty of working too hard, obsessing over little things and not taking enough holidays. During my trip I have reflected on the following important and less important issues:

• I get bored with my job from time to time. That is OK and doesn't represent a career crisis. I will get less bored if I take some time out every so often. I will also get less bored if I have the confidence to challenge myself. I'll get that confidence if I take time to stick my little meerkat head up from my work and get some perspective more often.

• I have finally learnt to pack semi-lightly. I took a moderate suitcase, packed more clothes than I wore but still had room to fit in some shopping purchases. It has taken 30+ years but I no longer have to exceed the baggage allowance on Qantas.

• I need to take more holidays – that is, I need to take them more frequently and go to lots of different places. I should mentally wipe my headspace free of work and Australia (picture a mental Etch-a-Sketch here) by travelling overseas at least once every eighteen months.

• Melbourne food is wonderful. You can eat at plenty of mid-range restaurants and have meals that range from good to very good. You rarely get a dud meal. We also have some fabulous restaurants. The food here is fresh and the meals are not too processed, salty, sweet or huge. Not that I don't appreciate eating local cuisine in foreign countries, but some of it is just over-priced crap. I should appreciate Melbourne food more.

• Australia is not a very important country but we could be a great country and we have some fabulous people. John Howard is not one of them. We desperately need to get out of our "baby-bonus plasma-TV buying, racist fear-mongering, complacent mortgage holders battler lowest common denominator" culture and elect a politician who can actually lead the country and equip it to face the future.

• More than a few Qantas staff are up themselves and should take a bit more time to reflect on how they treat their customers.

• The Man is a very very good sort and whilst he is not the most expressive, romantic bloke in the world, he is genuine and reliable. He has shown me great care and ever so often he makes some gesture to make me happy that takes my breath away. I enjoy his sense of humour, his intelligence, his musings and I am never for a moment bored in his company. We are going well. I don’t know where it will end up, and I don't think he does either. That is just fine for the moment.

• Watching Kath & Kim on the Qantas flight home is destined to make one very depressed. It shouldn't be played on flights into Australia.

I am gradually sinking back into the routine of everyday living, although I fear I am still a tad jetlagged. This weekend I will get out and about in Melbourne this weekend to ensure that I am not beset by post-holiday ennui. Hope life is treating you well and I look forward to catching up on events in the blogosphere.

Yours restfully

Ms B

10 things you won't know about me

OK so here goes - Inspired by hat seeks home, I'm not Craig and snoskred, here is ten things that you won't know about me:

1. When I was a little thing I used to walk on tip toes so much that my worried mother took me to the doctor to have me checked out.
2. My favourite colour is purple.
3. I love children, but I'm not sure I can or will ever have the chance to have any of my own so make do by being a good friend to other people's kids.
4. I like my calfs and my ankles. I do a good ankle.
5. I can get ready to go out really quickly - if necessary I can shower, iron my clothes, style my hair and apply liquid eyeliner (degree of difficulty 8.9) in under 15 minutes.
6. I like art deco furniture, but I don't like the musty smell of antiques, so I don't really own any.
7. I can be very cynical, and my Mum worries that I am becoming "hard".
8. I aspire to be truthful in my life, with my friends, colleagues and family, and most importantly with myself. I have failed at this in the past but I think I am much better at it now.
9. If I go more than two days without listening to music that I like, I find myself getting really cranky.
10. I am addicted to Vegemite.

So if you are reading this, fess up and tell us something about yourself.

Procrastination part 1

In honour of Why do I do it? I thought I should return her post on procrastination.

I was just thinking about this as I worked out what to wear. Hours to date - 1. Outfits tried on - 5. Do I wear a skirt? Pants? Does that white top make the pesky few extra kilos a bit more obvious? Can I wear new shoes or will they hurt to much?

So what does Ms Batville do? Rather than make a decision she gets online and posts about it. That won't get the eyelashes curled as I'm sure someone used to say.

Tell me your top 5 procrastination techniques. I bet I can beat them all!

(And may your horse win the Derby tomorrow)

When it is all new

I am at that delightful time in a lass's life where she and a man spend their time kissing. In some ways it is an old relationship but the kissing thing is new and I must say the man in question is very skilled at the art. (OK promise not to nauseate you any further).

This is all quite refreshing for a cynic like me who had almost given up on the relationship thing and who had certainly forgot how nice hours of kissing can be. I had thought I couldn't see him in that way but then one day a while ago he made an offhand remark about something that seemed of no consequence and it jolted me in a way I did not expect. So things seem great and I mostly can't stop grinning.

But still, the insecurities surface. No reply to a text or "what did he mean by that?" and I suddenly become worrisome. Why can't I just relax and enjoy it? Maybe despite myself I am one of those slightly obsessive neurotic types that I pity.

One good thing - he has no idea. I have my pride for the moment at least.

And another good thing - we are catching up this weekend for more kissing....

And in startling news just to hand

The Age is reporting that real estate agents are still underquoting.

This is almost as astonishing as the reports in The Age earlier the week that pregnant women suffer discrimination at work and that "Babies still put a bump in women's career paths."

What next? Stories that tell us "Aboriginal people are discriminated against", "Shane Warne is not monogamous" or "Many Australians are actually racist."

I am forming a society for the preservation of nice footwear

Today as I was driving along in city I was indulging in that well-known female habit of checking out other women and assessing their clothing/look/hair etc. I was feeling charitable, and was delighted to spot a beautiful black velvet suit jacket with slim white piping, matched with a very nicely tailored grey frock. The wearer would have been late 20s, well groomed hair and walking along jauntily looking quite sweet indeed "How nice" I thought to myself, before I gazed down in horror to the footwear.

Light blue havaianas.

I have whinged before about the whole thongs with a suit thing, but now I have had enough! I may be old-fashioned but I belong to the suit=work, thongs=beach school of dressing. Enough crimes against fashion I say. From now on I will accost such types and shriek loudly at them until they march into Nine West and get themselves a nice pair of proper shoes.

Its hot isn't it

Bad things about very hot and windy days in Batville and the rest of Victoria in October:

• Body Odour on the tram;
• Body Odour in lifts;
• Girls wearing thongs with their suits in the city;
• Toenails in thongs with dodgy half-applied half-worn toenail polish;
• People saying "Its hot isn't it"
• Bushfires (already!);
• Further drought for farmers;
• Wind blowing sand from tram tracks into your eyes
• Increased likelihood of Stage 2 water restrictions;
• Coming home to a hot house;
• Finding out you haven't quite lost those pesky few kilos that you can cover up in your winter and autumn clothes.

Good things about very hot and windy days in Batville and the rest of Victoria in October:

• Having a cold beer when you get home from work.

Stupid tips Part 1

I have a very small garden which over the last few years I have to come to love. I potter about and lose all track of time. I also have a pair of green and pink check gumboots which I adore so will welcome any excuse to wear them. At the end of a hard afternoon in the garden I can sit in my gumboots, downing a restorative cocktail and I don't have a care in the world.

The most frustrating thing about gardening is that it usually looks ragged and half-eaten due to a never-ending plague of snails. I've tried leaving out beer which is supposed to encourage them to some sort of drunken suicide but have never found this to work. I also realised once that this technique has too many parallels with young men and their first cars so it makes me uneasy (I know - possibly an odd reaction). So instead I bait them and ever so often I go on a rampage, hunt them out and crush them to death. I can pretend they are some of the arrogant idiots I occasionally have to work with. Even more satisfying is to apply salt to them and watch them foam up and die but this takes planning (after all who walks around with salt on them). I was reading a gardening book recently that suggested this was a cruel practice and a more humane way to dispose of snails was to put them in a plastic bag and then into the freezer so they could "fall asleep gently". WHAT? They are snails not endangered cute baby seals. As my dear old Grandad would say "What a load of rot!"

I am obviously not a very humane gardener. I will however continue on my search for appropriate and effective snail eradication techniques.

Differences between Melbourne and Sydney

Now don't get me wrong - I like Sydney a lot and don't buy into the whole city-bashing rivalry thing. I don't choose to live there being more of a Batville girl myself, but I appreciate the city.

Interesting though the top news stories currently at The Age v The Sydney Morning Herald . The Age's most viewed story is Snaps show Mars rover on brink of discovery with nice photo of a crater photographed by NASA. The SMH's most popular story is entitled Bras keep abreast and tells a story about how Berlei have conducted a survey and discovering that Australian women's breasts are getting larger.

Disarming

I had a meeting today for a work with a man who I met once before, about a month ago for an hour. About half an hour into this second meeting with him I realised that he only had one arm. He was dressed in a suit which just sort of hung on one side.

How did I not notice this before? Very disconcerting to think I am that vague.

Gasp. Does this photo make it justifiable?

Well my dear little neglected blog - I love you.

I normally abhore the habit encouraged in the coffee shops of large chain bookstores of reading books or magazines that you have no intention of buying . The coffee is usually terrible, the food is overpriced and I hate to think that someone might later purchase a book with my crumbs in it.

I did however, overcome my moral objection yesterday when in Borders I spotted Clive Owen on the front of a US GQ. Ten minutes later I was enconsed in the mag, sipping a not great hot chocolate and eating a piece of so-so cheesecake. I might add it was a very very pleasant experience!

Yikes, do I give up on my principles that easily, just to gawk at photos of an extremely handsome British actor? Apparently, yes.

Why blog?

Why is it that a person suddenly feels the need to start a blog and (hopefully) share their thoughts with the world? Is it that they are lonely? In need of attention? Maybe in the middle of a busy world, in what seems to be a perfect job, surrounded by self-important folk, I need a space to be truly honest.

Seems to me that the older we get, and the more successful we are, the only time we are truly honest is when we are with kids. I don't have any of my own, but I am lucky enough to have two small friends with whom I can really be myself. The rest of the time I have to 'put on a face' - the "professional" face, the "boss" face, the "good daughter" face or the "god I hope I am hiding how bad this date is going" face.

So let me know - how honest can you really be in a blog? Do you self-edit? Does a fear of being identified limit what you say? Guidance for the newbie welcome....

Melbourne