Tag Archives: blogging

I Seem To Have Forgotten My Blog

Oh blog, how I’ve neglected you.

Who knew it would only take one embarrassing moment for me to come rushing back into your supportive arms?

Oh, how you hold me and make me believe I’m just charmingly harebrained, instead of a spastic fool.

Well, yes, this afternoon I was quite the fool. I rushed home from work in record time, speaker phoned my mum about feeding the animals whilst I threw on my Gi, sprayed the shit out of myself with body spray to hide the smell of a day’s worth of cafe food, pinned a few bobby pins in my frizzed out hair, raced out the door and sped off to Karate, keeping mostly to the speed limit, and still getting there with five minutes to spare. Legendary. But what’s that? The class isn’t on. And I don’t think it was ever on. I went on the whim of something I heard which I most certainly should have clarified.

And there lies the lesson.

Great. I learned that I should work on my communication skills.

But that doesn’t make me feel any better. That just makes me feel stupid. So, I try to reconcile my absolutely useless 30 min round trip to town by saying hey, let’s just imagine you were on a time trial, and guess what? You nailed it. Sweeeeet. But, yeah, still kind of not worth it. Hey, you know what, you can blog about this. Breaking the blog drought after so long? Bringing me back into the embrace of my long time love? Do I feel better now? Marginally. But it’s better than reminding myself how socially awkward I am.

And it made me think about something else that’s been bothering me: people asking how my week was. Because I only have two modes when replying to that question.

Monosyllable/very short answer mode; e.g.. Great, good, yeah not bad, alright, pretty good.

Or info dump mode; e.g. let me tell you about every single thing that happened to me in the time between now and the last time I saw you!

I’m not so fond of cherry picker mode. Where I have to collate and sort all the events of my week into preference and importance, and stand there for a good two minutes saying ‘ummmmm’ while I do so. It is because I must draw on so much brain power for this mode, that makes it so undesirable and awkward. I mean if I’m talking to someone, let’s say someone I like, I don’t want to just offer up monosyllable/very short answer mode, because that’s boring and a little thoughtless. Yet I don’t want to go into info dump mode and freak them out. So I usually opt for cherry picker mode, which is the worst, because I end up saying ‘I don’t remember’, as it is just too hard to pick ONE THING. Of course this is all assuming that when asking the question ‘how was your week?’ that the asker actually wants to know. They may just want you to say ‘good, how was yours, what did you get up to?’ Because that’s a better question. ‘What did you get up to?’ implies that they want to know what you did, rather than how it was, which just confuses the shit out of me. So much so that I actually replied with ‘I don’t like being asked how my week was, because I can never remember.’

And also I can’t stand this question when it’s asked on, say, a Tuesday. There has only been one day in my week! I can tell you how my Monday was? But then you should have asked ‘how was yesterday?’ Because I am just that damn anal. You see, this is why I end up talking to my cat.

(Mentioning cat in blog posts: 100% accuracy rate)


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I Have Been Put to Shame

The bloody woman had eight blogs. Count em. Eight! If she was an octopus her blogs would be like her arms. If she was a mother, she’d have octuplets. Eight screaming babies all vying for a suckle of mummy’s creative teat. But Mummy needs her rest children. Can’t you amuse yourself for five minutes? Can’t I even take a leak in private!

And she wrote everyday, sometimes twice. I sat there in my Writing for Performance class marveling at her, wondering how somebody could possibly have that much to say…

Then I heard her talk.

And then I understood.

The woman was a machine.

An eight tentacled abomination, enrapturing the blogosphere with her many differently themed creations.

I wondered about her competency. She was deathly allergic to bananas, yet for two years worked at The Big Banana. Bad logic? Or delicious irony? Like when someone fashionable wears a really ugly sweater…

Anyways. People. What can I say? I’m intrigued by them. Now to wait patiently for the mothership to beam me back onboard so that I may report my findings.

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This Could Be Very Dangerous

Oh, wow. I can post from my phone. I couldn’t possibly think of anything more annoying than single finger typing and constant predictive text. Especially with my less than nimble fingers.

However, I am stuck inside waiting for my script writing tutorial, because of the miniature cyclone raging outside, so I must occupy my time somehow, meanwhile looking to everyone like I’m writing the longest text message of all time.

All I thought about in my first script writing lecture is how distressing it is to already know everything. Taking the word ‘everything’ with a grain of salt, however. Just the answers to newbie’s questions that you instinctively want to scream across the room.

Or yell out at the teacher about common short film length.

Look at me! I’m having a minor brain aneurysm holding my seasoned knowledge inside.

I am certain however, that past the introductory faze, it will be I whom receives an education.

Because despite my best efforts, I, in fact, don’t know it all.

P.S. The dangerous part is that this phone blogging business could be addictive.

In my previous post I pondered having a notepad surgically implanted in my hand, to jot down all my insightful thoughts whenever they crossed my mind. Scarily, a phone seems to be just that…

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The Big Five-Oh


In celebration of my 50th post, the 50th person to view this will win a brand new iPad!

Ah hah! Lucky for me I never get 50 views so … aww. Now I’m sad.

Never mind.

I once read a brilliant post from an actual ‘successful’ blogger about the difference between an ‘art blog’ and a ‘conversational blog’, and which one is more popular and gets more followers.

But, you see, here’s the thing, I know the aim of this game is to have many followers and likes to validate the existence of your writing, yet I’m not sure that’s my intention here.

Of course I love coming back to my page and seeing that little orange star of appreciation glowing back at me, making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but … no, yep, that’s it I love it. Give me more shiny stars! Plaster them all over my face, let me devour them like many a tasty, tasty star shaped cookie. Arggghhh they’re so shiny, buuurrrrrrggghhhh.

Yes, please like me. I need constant approval.

Anyways, what was my intention for blogging again?

The most honest answer would probably be therapy.

When I was eight – ten years old I kept a diary, and it was full of crazy shit too. I was a very emotional child, heck I probably cried for two weeks straight after watching The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride (I mean, come on, Kovu loved Kiara, he never meant for Simba to get hurt, don’t throw him out of the pride, waaaahhhhhhhhh! Now you’re going to sing a song about how you’re rejecting him, this couldn’t be more TRAGIC!)

My point is writing down my thoughts got them out of my head, which was very therapeutic, and I continued to do this, well to this very day actually. Except most of those thoughts are kept private, because that stuff is gnarly and way too deep, man.

Other thoughts I’m quite happy to share here on this blog, which is helpful in other ways. Mainly when I’m obsessing over something so completely trivial that the only way to remind myself of its trivialness is to make fun of the situation, and myself, for all to see.

The inside of my head is perpetual doomsday. It’s like the 21st of December 2012 in there … THE END OF THE WORLD.

For example:

Inside my head – ‘What, somebody didn’t like the thing I posted on their wall…*sharp, ‘pregnant lady in labour’ breathing*, hee hee hoo, hee hee hoo. EVERYBODY HATES ME!’

Outside my head – ‘Ah ha ha, I’m so silly, being a hermit for 30 days had made me paranoid, tee hee hee.’

Blogging for me equals therapy.

So, lucky readers, you are all officially observing psychologists.

And if you want to ask me what I see in the following inkblots, my answers are, a bat, a star, a star, a star, a star, a star, a cookie, a bunny rabbit, and two lions fighting over a scrap of meat …

Quick, somebody get my reference. You may or may not win an iPad.

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Update much?

The other day I told someone that I have a blog.
“Do you update regularly?” came the question.
…Uh, not recently.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?”
…Yes, yes it is. I think I know what the problem is. All the blogs I read have some sort of theme. They comment on a specific area of interest, they share knowledge and personal experience. I write about my life and thoughts I have about my life. Here’s the thing. My life is bo-o-o-oring. Emphasis on the boring part. Hence the long lags between posts. Do I think I have something witty and interesting to say every week? Not really.

The last thing of note I remember happening to me was an encounter with someone quite bizarre that wanted to argue that he knew the menu of where I work better than me. Me. Someone who has been taking burger orders for nearly a year now.

Oh, yes, I’m sorry sir, you’re completely right, that burger does come with chilli and that one doesn’t. The six bazillion orders I’ve taken before yours must have all been a mistake! And yes, they must have changed the menu on you, because you couldn’t possibly be WRONG. *smile politely* Here’s you are, have a great day!

I’m perfectly genial and I still don’t get a thank you, just suspect eye language. P-uh-lease. Uh, uh girlfriend. No way. Don’t even.

Anyways. Don’t you hate it when your dog is doing something cute and you race to get the camera and when you come back they’re not doing it anymore?
You see, this is interesting stuff! Oh, Abbey, why don’t you blog more often?

Perhaps I should find a topic I’m interested in rather than complaining about customers and my musings on umbrellas and the tip. I don’t feel I have the expertise to comment on any such exterior topics though. Maybe, if I wander beyond the confines of my bedroom and the shopping center 1km down the road I’ll find my self with more to talk about. That’s if anyone is listening. I shouldn’t assume that any one wants me to talk more

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