My Heart Broke a Little More Today...

My heart broke a little bit more today.  And the world seems a little colder than it did yesterday..  And the day before…

After the events of yesterday in Sydney, that not only affected my home state but the whole of Australia, my heart broke.  It broke for the obvious reasons surrounding the siege and the outcome but it also broke because of some of the “jokes” people, some who exist in my social media world, were making with no regard for anyone but themselves (and entertaining their "audiences".  I am amazed at the amount of people who commented on inappropriate posts!!!).

I am not going to call out what was said and by who – to be honest I am too disgusted.  Why draw even more attention to a small group of people who do not deserve the recognition. 

I went through a flurry of emotions after reading some of the comments they had written.  From shock (that I could know people who though it was ok to be that crass), sadness (someone could find what they said funny), shame (how did I not know they were like this?), disgust (for lack of empathy).  The list goes on.

And now the tough question is do I severe ties?  I think so…  So if you ever stumble across this blog and know you made an inappropriate comment on a social media page about the siege in Sydney yesterday, where two innocent people died, and you then check and realise we are no longer friends…  You were one of those I decided to un-invite out of my life.

I feel sorry for you.  For the fact you feel the need to inappropriately joke about something so devastating.  You are not welcome in my world.

White Ribbon Day 2014

If you know me you know I am very passionate about this topic.  So passionate about it I have written about it a few times in this blog and let me assure you, writing about it and putting it out there for people to read was not an easy decision.  I was ashamed (and quite honestly still am in some ways) and worried people would judge me, think me weak and would go down the path of "she should have just left".  So the day I chose to publish my story for the world to read I was wracked with terror.  I shouldn't have been; there was nothing but support.

Starting back in October 2012, this is my story:  It Can Happen to Anyone

And again on White Ribbon Day last year:  White Ribbon Day 2013

And as a reminder...

EVERY week, on average, one Australian woman is killed by a current or former partner. 
              
More than 27,000 domestic violence assaults were reported to police last year in NSW alone, averaging 74 assaults in the state per day, and it’s the reason behind more than 30 per cent of all homicide cases in New South Wales.

One in three women in Australia has experienced some sort of violence since the age of 15, around 3.91 million, and indigenous women are 35 times more likely to be affected.

One in five Australian women has been stalked.

These numbers should horrify you.  They sure horrify me.

Philadephia - Random "Facts" & Thoughts

• I will never get used to the toilets in the US (random, but true and the reason I make this comment is it is almost like they were built on the basis that no American is over 5 ft - the toilets are tiny)
• We were bought Philly pretzels for breakfast this morning as we had to start super early as we are way behind the agenda – and they were revolting.  As an FYI in case you are ever in Philly and anyone offers you one…  I was encouraged to put mustard on it – which I did, which increased the revoltingness by about 10x
• I ordered salmon for dinner last night with steamed vegetables – and forgot to ask for everything on the side (you laugh at the American movies when this happens - example Steve Martin in L.A. Story - remember when a coffee was ordered - here's the clip.  It seemed extraordinary to me at the time, now it makes sense:  LA Story - Ordering Coffee LA Style).  Any who I digress..  My healthy dinner came out covered in BBQ and chipotle sauce on the salmon and a litre of butter on the vegies - destroying my healthy dinner...
• I went running this morning at 5am – very crisp but nice.  In Australia we see dead kangaroos, possums and stuff (well, actually where I live I do not see dead anything except for the odd family pet who ventured onto the road) BUT here there are dead deers just randomly on the side of the road – they are HUGE – and it is kinda sad
• I told someone I was going to NY for the weekend and all they could talk about is Ebola – sigh, I think there is more chance of being mugged, stabbed or kidnapped by the Russian mafia and used in a prostitution ring (I have had Law & Order SVU on most of the time I have been here, thus my creativity/imagination) before I catch Ebola. 
•  I think I am managing 3 hours sleep a night.  While I don’t have jet lag as such, sleeping is near impossible due to my body clock – so by Friday I will be super grumpy (perhaps meaning anyone who tries to mug me may decide not to once they get “the look”?)

Steer clear of these...  But I guess my dislike of Philly pretzels is only
equivalent to their dislike of vegemite...


Streets of Philadelphia Day 2

I wondered if you would surface jetlag.  And you did.  36 hours after I get here.  Thank you.  You didn't disappoint.  Tossing and turning till 4.30am is always a treat.

On the upside - my hair is doing great guns over here - no humidity!  Who knew you could achieve straight hair so easily..

And so Sunday in Philadelphia begins..

Streets of Philadelphia

I'm in Philadelphia.  It took nearly 30 hours and 3 flights to get here but I am here.  I was worried about the jet lag but luckily I travelled Premium Economy (not quite business class but let me tell you, it is a far cry from economy) and got here after midnight so went straight to bed AND I woke up okay..

I'm here from work with all the other talent acquisition leads from round the world, which is exciting as I've only ever spoken to most of these people a few times a week for the past few years.  I'm appreciative I have a job that allows me to travel and see parts of the world I wouldn't normally see (China being point and case, I would never choose to go there).  To be honest I probably wouldn't have made it to Philadelphia if it wasn't for work but I'm glad I am here.

It is a pretty city.  It is currently autumn (or fall if you are American) and it is what I remember autumn in Tasmania to be.  The oak trees have leaves that are hues of orange and yellow and they crumble under your feet when you tread on them.  I saw a squirrel while I was out for a walk (cute little critters).  The air is crisp, the sky is blue and it has a kind of small town feel about it.

Tomorrow I get to go to King of Prussia - a huge shopping centre, so I have been told AND the best part is I get 3 days in NYC on the way home, which I am very excited about.  Me in a very big city fending for myself and trying to blend in with the crowd..

I was sitting in my hotel room this afternoon just as Australia woke up, looking through Facebook and considered what life would be like if I lived here.  I saw posts from my friends who are enjoying the weekend and the sunshine.  I realised if I was to come and work in the US I'd miss everyone terribly.  Is it a reality?  Maybe...  Is it something I want?  Perhaps..  I guess I'll find out as time goes on.  For now I will enjoy my week here and enjoy my days in NYC.  And wait to see if I end up here one day.

My Home

I'm home.  Home being Sydney.  I've settled back into every day life, although it took a day or two.

I just reread a blog I wrote when I was down there (You Can Take the Girl Out of Tassie) and I cried.  Just a little. 

Never take your home for granted.  Never take what you have for granted.  And never beat yourself up for occasionally going back in time and wondering "what if".  Life is full of what if's (refer to another blog:  What If's - gosh I was way before my time with a lot of things I've written and thought over the last few years!).

All I can put all of these thoughts down to is getting older.  Let's call it more mature (it had to happen sooner or later, I am 39+3 soon to be 4).  You start to think about things more, evaluate your lot in life.  And you know what?  My lot is just fine.  And for that I am thankful.

You Can Take the Girl Out of Tassie...

I’m slowly coming to the realisation that you can take the girl out of Tasmania but you can’t take Tasmania out of the girl. 

I am lucky enough to have a job and a boss where I have flexibility.  So this week I find myself sitting in Tasmania having left my Sydney home for a week, working for the most part but being able to spend time with my family, which I haven’t really done in 25 years on a regular basis until recently, about the last 18 months.  (At this point I encourage you to read a previous blog from a few weeks ago:  Sweet Home Alabama - it ties in nicely with this blog.)

I hear some of you gasp in horror.  Hell, I gasp in horror when I think of how long I have been away from home and my family and the amount of times I have been here.  Having said that, I think it does somewhat come with the territory when you leave home.  Let me explain. 

I left my home state at 18, seemingly dying of a broken heart, as only an 18 year old can do dramatically and with such flair.  I needed to put as much distance between my home and the tumultuous final teenage years when I changed from a “Miss Goody Two Shoes” into, well quite frankly, a bloody nightmare.  I’d fallen madly in love with a boy, who it turns out was quite a bit older than me (I was very mature is my excuse).  Long story short, it didn’t last and my heart was broken.  I left and settled in Sydney and a whole big wide world awaited me.  For a while I hated everything Tasmania represented.

Fast forward 25 years and I have only just realised how much I love being home.  I was at lunch with some old school friends on this trip, people who I have connected with on Facebook over the years (without FB and social media this would probably be a very different blog, but I digress) and we were chatting about being parents (them) and career people (all of us).  I was saying how “easy” it is to be home.  They asked what was easier.  I thought about it and said: “I think I am a nicer and better person when I am here”.  Upon being called on to explain, I thought about it for a minute or two.  Those minutes gave me time to digest what I just said.  But in a nut shell I am not as stressed, I am not as busy thinking of 101 things and I take time to smell the roses.  I connect with my family.  I listen to people instead of trying to multi task.  I really listen.

This trip I visited some places I haven’t been to in a long time.  I took a photo of the house I grew up in.  I met up with some people who at some stage in my 18 years here meant a lot to me.  And as I write this I realise it has made me sad.  Sad that it is only now I don’t take where I grew up for granted.  Sad that I have to leave in 36 hours and return to the grindstone that is Sydney.  The 3 hour commute to work (16 km drive each way); the hard core job I have, the day to day responsibilities I have.

But I am not ungrateful for my life outside of my home state.  I realise I need to be thankful for my family and friends in Sydney who love me and the flexibility and salary my job provides me with.  While I am not quite at the CEO level I dreamed of at 21, if I had of stayed in Tassie in 1990 I’d be married with 5 kids and probably a couple of grandkids – at 42…  And that is okay.  But I don’t think it was ever going to be me.  And if it had of been me – would I have tired of it by now?

Who knows.  They are questions I will never know the answers to.  And I guess that’s okay.  While I can get on a plane and fly home whenever I choose, I can’t rewrite history.  But I can be thankful for my wonderful family and the freedom I have to be me, the overseas trips I take as I am not tied down by children and my great life.

Thanks mum and dad for making me the person I am.  I probably don’t tell you that enough.  Thank you Tasmania for being an awesome place to grow up in and most of all, thank you for the memories.  I’m going to start making new ones.  I don’t know what they quite look like yet.  I’ll just have to work that out as I go along.  I look forward to it.

Tip Toe...

Further to my blog of yesterday regarding the gym.....

It is just after 7am, I am still half asleep, despite having been to the gym, and I realise we are having a casual day at work and I need to find jeans and a top to wear..  I can't just throw on a suit and walk out the door - today needs consideration..  Need to wear a top high enough not to show my back tattoo (previous blog:  Women & Tattoos), something that is classified as smart business casual and something which does not show too much of anything - essentially, as I used to tell my team "wear something you would wear out to lunch with your grandma". 

This needs thought.

I decide on suitable clothing and I put on my black boots.  They felt odd..  So I changed to my red boots.  They felt weird as well and were obviously too big.  By this stage I am convinced that getting up at 5.10am and doing a work out from 5.30am to 6.30am is sending me loony and perhaps I need a rest.

Then it clicks.  So I go try on a pair of shoes and guess what?  They are too big.  The gym is paying off people; I am losing weight in my freaking feet.  Awesome. 

Maybe in another 7 weeks my butt will be smaller.  Or my feet will have gone from a size 8 to a 6 and then I'll look stupid - 5 foot 7 and a size 6 foot.

It's all I've got today.  I am too bloody tired after waking up at 4.53am this morning in anticipation of the alarm going off at 5.07am.   Ignore me, I am just cranky.  Got out of bed the wrong side.

#Gym #WeightLoss #IAmSerious

Step by Step...

So, as per a previous blog, I joined a gym..  I thought it would be filled with a lot of beautiful people.  "Posers" if you will..  I'm really glad to say that I was absolutely wrong..  The gym I have joined is full of people of all ages all with one thing in mind, to get a little fitter and look a littler (or a lot) better than they do now.

Three to four days per week I drag myself out of bed at 4.55am.  It is winter.  It isn't easy.  I am at the gym by 5.25pm and on a machine by 5.32am.  I work out for 60 minutes.

The first six weeks didn't really herald any physical results.  But every day I went a minute or two longer on the cross trainer and had a steeper incline on the walking machine.  Now I am up to 40 minutes on the cross trainer.  No sweat.  Okay, that is a lie - there is a lot of sweat and I curse the damn thing for the first 12 minutes or so - a few times I've nearly just stopped and thrown in the towel.  But I didn't.  I kept going.  And bang.  Last Friday someone told me I was looking good.  Was I?  I had given up looking for results, I was happy with increasing my fitness.  The next day I noticed my jeans no longer fitted me without a belt and even then I looked like one of those ridiculous teenagers who wears their jeans down around their butt showing off their underwear..  Next stop..  Shopping for new jeans.  In September - the end to be precise.  I am not rushing out to buy new clothes now, I am going to wait a bit to see what other physical changes take place..

I don't love the gym but I know that in order to regain the confidence I seem to have lost I need to do something to make myself feel better.  Having said that I don't hate the gym either.  It has just formed a part of my day - like lunch.

So, if you are thinking about joining a gym I encourage you to give it a go.  They are not all places full of beautiful posers who really don't need to work out.

I have a gym "buddy" - a friend who gets up at the stupid hour every day to go to the gym with me.  We don't really speak, we probably grunt (who is at their best at that hour?) - but it is motivating.  I can't let her down and she feels she can't let me down.

So stay tuned, I'll report how I feel again at then end of September - just under 8 weeks away!

From Little Things...

The other day on Facebook I read an article posted by someone I admire and have known since high school.  I know if she is on her "soap box" about something normally there is good reason.  SO I read the story.  Then I got on my soap box and shared the link.  And then it went quiet.  I guess it wasn't a cute link to a story about a cat or a dog, or a dancing baby - you know the ones, they get 100's of 1000's of like and comments.  This article was about something people don't want to comment on/are too afraid to comment on OR, straight out, they don't care.  And I'd like to think I am surrounded by people in my social media stratosphere that do care..

Here's the story: From Little Things Big Things Grow

it's a delightful story about a company called "Wicked Campers" - who, as the name suggests, rents out camper vans to people travelling around Australia.  Where is the fuss in that  I hear you ask..  The fuss isn't in that - the fuss is in the slogans they have painted on their vans.  One delightful example if below:

Just in case you can't read it, it says: "In every princess there is a little slut who wants to try it just once".

Really?  That is acceptable and not worthy of some outrage?

As the write of the article says:  "When something is wrong and has become normalised it’s the exact moment to speak up."

I think it is time to speak up.

#WickedCampers #PaulaOrbea

Sweet Home Alabama

I am chick flick mad.  You may be surprised to know I love Sci-Fi as well.  Not Star Trek Sci-Fi - more shows like Under The Dome and Arrow (actually, does Arrow count as Sci-fi?  And if I'm really honest I watch it to look at Stephen Amell, I meant who wouldn't?  I always say, Arrow, so bad it is good...).  But I digress...

Back to my love of chick flicks.  I like the fact the story lines are so easy to read.  I like tuning out for 2 hours and not thinking about anything other than what is playing out on the screen in front of me (yes, I know, I know what is going to happen but I don't have to THINK about it). 

Which brings me to one of my favourite movies, that I watched for about the 23rd time on Saturday night, Sweet Home Alabama.  I came to realise a long time ago that I like the movie because of the fact it reminds me of me when I was younger (that and Josh Lucas is damn hot).  I'd left a small town to move to the big smoke (and left behind my first true love, well it had been over for years but you know teenagers, but that's where that similarity ends) and I got a bit ahead of myself..  I wasn't as obnoxious as Melanie (Reece Witherspoon) or at least I don't think I was (there is probably lots of people who will have a different opinion to that though!!) but I didn't go back to my home town and visit my parents or family enough, I didn't call them enough - I wasn't there enough...  I want to reach through the TV and slap her, then I realised I can't because I was I was her when I was in my late teens to my early 20's...

So the moral of this blog is - always be present, always make an effort to see or talk to your parents and family - even if it is just a phone call regularly...  If you live close by, call in - even for 10 minutes, just don't think you'll do it tomorrow.  Tomorrow never comes soon enough.  And, it may be too late.

I Bought a Zoo!

I bought a zoo.  Well, really I didn’t.  I joined a gym. But I bought a zoo sounds so much more exciting.

I bravely went up to the gym that opened just up the road from where I live, paid my joining fee ($9) and agreed to the $10.95 per week for usage of the whole gym 7 days per week.  Even for a non-gym person, how great is that?  $47 a month for using every machine and access to every class.
I digress.

I have joined a gym once in my life.  It was Contours in Mortdale (they have since moved) – a woman’s only circuit gym.  I hated it from day 1.  I hated everything about it.  For a girl who spent most of her early life playing sport, since I broke my hips at age 15 (long story) I have a lack of confidence about my legs holding me up sometimes (again, long story, but when I hip breaks, you collapse quite spectacularly) and this affects my coordination.  Once I am comfortable with a “move” it is not a problem but the first few times trying to master something can be challenging.

Anyway back to my story.  I was completing a circuit when it was time to do some move or rather and I hadn’t done it before.  The instructor yells out to the whole circuit “new girl up the back, can tell, she can’t keep up”.  I was freaking mortified.  I left, mid circuit and never went back.  I never gave them that feedback – hopefully one day someone will show them this blog and they understand why they only had me for 3 weeks (by the way, a circuit gym is rubbish – just rubbish).

Forgive me getting off track.  Again.

Bottom line is I am 42 years old and I was petrified of joining a gym.  I thought it would be full of beautiful people all preening and pomping around.  I was wrong, thankfully.  The majority of people I see every day are just like me.  Phew.

A 5.30am start is not ideal in winter but you know what, I don’t hate it. I will stick this out, finish what is set out to do (lose weight) and who knows, will probably continue to attend that gym.
Thanks Crunch Fitness – you may have taken your sweet time opening but I appreciate it!

 

 

Moving Mountains..

If you have reached this page and this particular blog entry, take the time to watch the follow up story titled “60 Minutes – Kristy Cruise Story” and then go to her blog page called “Moving Mountains” and read her story.

Moving Mountains - Kristy Cruise

60 Minutes - Kristy Cruise Story

Right – watched the clip?  Read her blog overview?  Good – read on. 

I  watched 60 Minutes last Sunday night and cried.  I cried a lot.  I cried those heart wrenching sobs that come from the heart, the ones you didn’t know were there.  I cried tears of joy for Kristy, tears of sadness for the people who would never have known about this procedure had it not of been for Kristy but who probably can’t afford it anyway and tears of despair for people like my mum, who technically doesn’t have MS (and this sounds terrible, but if she did it would be a lot simpler to get our government to help her) but Parkinson’s Disease – which, if you want to split hairs, is likened to MS sometimes (I digress with the part about my mum, but bear with me, there will be a link in a few paragraphs).

I feel my blood pressure rise just thinking about the fact in Moscow, Tel Aviv and Chicago RIGHT NOW there are amazing doctors who are conducting stem cell transplants (HSCT) on 100’s of MS sufferers with such positive results and yet the Australian government says “NO”.  Guess there is too much money to be lost by the pharmaceutical companies if we suddenly had an operation that may mean you don’t need to rely on so much medication if you do have MS.

I’m angry – even 2 days after watching this story I am still damn angry.  What exacerbates this anger is I wonder how many other amazing doctors are using break through surgery to help people suffering from other diseases – such as Parkinson’s Disease (link to my mum).

I know there are no guarantees this would work.  I know there are risks surrounding it.  But I also know that you may as well have an option because you chose to not because the government won’t allow it.

I think I will still be mad in a week.

 

#KristyCruise #MovingMountains #MS

"Disgusting. Frumpy. Gross. Imperfect."

"Disgusting.  Frumpy.  Gross.  Imperfect."

"How would you describe your body in one word? Would you use any of the above adjectives? If you answered yes, you’re not alone. The responses above are real examples of Aussie women describe themselves."

"Lose weight, reduce wrinkles, fight cellulite; we’re constantly told to fight a battle to be someone other than who we are.”

Check out this clip: Body Image Movement Embrace by Taryn Brumfitt.  I have been guilty of this.  I am guilty of this.  I have cried to myself silently, hating what I see, especially as I get older.

I just thought it would be a good thing to share.

The Office

I work in talent acquisition.  Known previously, and to some still, as recruitment.  I have worked with some absolute shocking people over the years.  Thankfully I have also worked with some amazing superstars.

What I have noticed of late is that the shockers are quickly trying to infiltrate my life again.  The shockers fall into a two natural categories:

• Leadership/Management; those who have yelled and screamed their way through management, terrorising everyone in their path.  Generally just offensive human beings
• Colleagues;  I could write for paragraphs but you know the one I mean – THOSE colleagues

How on earth does anyone who has behaved appallingly get off contacting me via the many social media platforms we have these days, like a long lost buddy, asking for help into their next role?

Regardless of how I feel toward them I am professional and courteous in my reply.  This reply today is what I really want to say:  “Where do you get off asking me for help?  I didn’t respect you then and time has not helped my feelings on this matter.”

As if I am going to inflict those type of people on the company I work for now.

Go crawl back under the rock you came out from.

A Non Apology To My Friends With Children....

I read this today:  An Apology to my Childless Friends and I want to scream how sick I am of reading this stuff.  It seems to be never ending these days - childless women v women with children!  Enough - we are all female - we are all human - just because one chose to procreate doesn't mean one is better than the other. 

I find this "funny take on having kids" just down right condescending.  I don't have kids and yet I am not a child hater, I am not evil and I am not dumb.  Don't treat me like the 2 year old you are cleaning up after to try and explain why we don't talk much anymore. 

I understand it is hard to get baby sitters so I am happy to visit. I don't care your house is covered in kids crap, I just want to see you.  What I do care about is us still being friends; limping through the here and now (because apparently we can't be the friends we once were because I am childless and don't get your life, if this clip is anything to go by) and still being friends when the child starts to grow up.

I really do not know why I wrote this - I guess I am just over it.  And blogs like "An apology to my childless friends" just put a bee in my bonnet.

P.S. I was going to call this "Spitting the Dummy"... 

Shall We Dance...

Sooooooooo........ You hit, let's pluck a figure and say 42..  And you realise you have no "hobbies" in life.  And everyone needs a hobby...  Don't they?

So at the ripe old age of 42 I figure I want to do something.  Akin to ticking something off the bucket list.  And maybe, just maybe, I will start to lose the weight I have been carrying on about for, I don't know, the best part of 2 years.

So I hatch a plan - take up ballroom dancing.  Heck, I was pretty good at it in high school.  I used to front up to PE in winter to the gym (I lived in Launceston, it is cold there all year round, winter is particularly ferocious) and dance my little butt off.  The Fox Trot.  The Pride of Erin.  The Waltz. 

There is only one particular issue with my new found idea.  A partner to dance with.  My husband, bless him, has no interest in dancing.  Full stop.  Getting him to do a bridal waltz at our non traditional wedding was, challenging.  Not a hope he will follow me to a dancing school and sign up for an 8 week course that sees us gracefully sliding around a dance floor.

So this leaves me without a dance partner.  Do I front up, sans partner, and hope for the best?  I have warned him that without a partner I may turn up and be paired with a Ricky Martin look alike/mover and shaker (or similar - oh hell, just a good dancer) who may sweep me off my feet at any given time.  He laughed.  I laughed too.  My coordination is not the best.

So for now I shall keep thinking about it.. Who knows, eventually I may find a partner and become..  Coordinated.  I can see myself in a long flowing gown, gliding gracefully around a dance floor.

I'll keep you updated.

Educating on Melanoma...

Last week I wrote a blog and it got re-tweeted quite a few times around the world..  By people and to people, I am guessing, who do not understand the "Australianism reference to Kylie Mole".  So I thought I best point out to those of you not in Australia that I am not insane. 

I was using Kylie Mole as a reference because anyone 32+ (okay, maybe 35+) should get the reference - and I thought it would encourage people to click and read.  And it did.  It probably just left a few of you scratching your head to the reference. and why the title..

Any way - click through again (below) and read again with a greater understanding!  Update is he is okay - all clear.  Has some massive scars, a very big "hole" in his back which will take months (anywhere up to 6) to heal, spent 5 days dreadfully ill due to the antibiotics (used to fight infection) BUT is alive and has a good life ahead of him.  And that is all that matters.

So, if you are reading this - get your moles checked.  Please.

giftcards.com.au

I got a giftcard for Christmas.  A Coles Myer Giftcard for $60.  Probably purchased sometime in December.

 I went to use that Gift Card on the weekend and it was declined.  I just rang giftcards.com.au – a 3^rd party provider, so the cheery customer service rep told me over the phone, and was told the only way to fix it was to send in the proof of purchase.  Good luck with that one, five months after Christmas, me thinks..

I get there are a lot of dishonest people in the world and this company probably receives 100 calls like mine a day – 50 of them dishonest.  But surely there should be something in place that prevents this sort of thing happening?  How is it my fault that someone at a register forgot to upload any funds onto the card that was purchased?

I am cross.  It’s not the money.  It is the principal.  I pay for someone else’s mistake.  How much money do they make a year off this type of occurrence?  A lot I would suggest.



All your favourite stores with one place to order them all - but useless if funds aren't added to the card and it isn't activated!!! 

Lucky

I'm laying here on my bed in Shanghai.  Everyone I love is fast asleep back home (there's a 3 hour time difference) with the exception of Lily Cat, who's probably remaining vigil in the bedroom window looking out for the fox who roams the street after midnight looking for food and "screaming" or howling, what ever it is they do, keeping the neighborhood pets awake.

People who know me know China is not my favourite destination.  But this trip I've tried to look at the experience through different eyes.  It hit me today how fortunate I am to travel Asia for work, experiencing new cultures and doing what I love.  Recruitment.  This is what I wanted.  This is what I chose.  And I made it happen.  It wasn't luck.  It was hard work.

So I'm going to suck up being here and accept it for what it is.  A world of different experiences. A world so vastly different to mine.  A world I wouldn't necessarily want to live in every day.  But an exciting world none the less.

Blogging

Sometimes the hardest thing in the world is to blog about things you think people want to read..  Then I reminded myself my blog is for me..  Just because it's out there on the WWW doesn't mean it always has to be about things that are important to everyone.  As long as they're important to me..  

I'm going to remember that next time I want to write something and then refrain because I think I'll cop flak or upset someone because it's a point of view they may not agree with.  Or because they may think I'm mad.  Here's to it being my blog and being myself. 

Just saying! 

And So 2014 Begins.. With a Grateful Jar!

As I said farewell to 2013, surrounded by friends and enjoying the holidays, I listened to a lot of people say 2013 was a bad year and they were glad to see the back of it.  I wasn't one of those people because as far as years go, it was an okay one.  Not overly great but definitely not a bad one.

I have much to be thankful for..

What I am going to do in 2014 is create a "Grateful" jar.  I didn't think up this idea on my own, I saw it on a social media site and loved the idea..
 My grateful jar will sit in the kitchen and the idea is every time something happens that I am grateful for, I write it on a postit note and pop it in the jar, with the date on it.  Next NYE I will sit down and open it and read through all the great things that happened to me in 2014.  Sometimes the enormity of the not so great things consume us, if I write down the good things it will act as a reminder of what happened in 2014.

So happy New Year everyone, albeit a week or so late..