hiatus

I love you all and I love this blog, but I love it even more when my life is going the way I want it to, and so I am going to take a break from the former for the sake of the latter.

I'm so thankful for all of you for going on this journey with me, and I truly want to come back to MLHL eventually, but for the moment I am just drained by RL and all the drama that comes along with it to put the effort I want to into this little bloggy.

Lots of love.

Mel.

The obligatory "Holy Crap. I'm 24 years old and I'm living like a teenage boy" post.

There are two key dates in the Mel calendar each year.

1. The day I realise that spending exorbitant amounts of dosh* buying my lunch each day is not the most fiscally responsible of lifestyle choices** and I really should start cooking for myself.

2. The day, two weeks later, when I decide that if I have to consume another meal of canned soup again in my life, I'll go postal.

Today is day #2, and I'm talking to you from the tail end of some serious culinary escapades. Now if you think you're challenged in the kitchen, know that it it took me two hours just to buy the ingredients for apricot chicken, and the only reason I didn't have a meltdown in the middle of the supermarket is that I was able to incorporate my legendary Googling and Wikiing skills into the grocery shopping experience***.

Why is this bloggable? Because this, my friends, is the first time I've cooked for myself this year****.

Now I'm sure the "here's to delayed adulthood" post has been done to death in the 20-something division of the blogosphere, just like I'm sure I'm not the only 20-something out there who frequently has to fish through a sea of take out containers in the back of her car to find change for the toll booth, or who's heart skips a beat several times a week in the moments before the EFTPOS machine flashes that "approved" signal at her and she can claim her Happy Meal and go home to watch Family Guy.

I'm also sure that I'm not the first to stand before her followers and declared with every intention of action that things are going to change; that no longer would toilet paper be a viable substitute for tissues, or breakfast cereal a good dinner option.

I may not be the first, but I'm proud to join those ranks none the less.

Recently, after I received a comment on the less than immaculate state of my car, I was forced to take stock. That might not seem to you like an event shocking enough to elicit a complete lifestyle overhaul, but this was on the day when I'd had to fish a t-shirt out of my dirty linen basket to wear because I'd forgotten to do laundry that week and in the hours following the realisaton that I hadn't eaten any fresh fruit or vegetables in four days.

Basically, it was the day I realised I was living the life of a seventeen year old boy, and not one of those metro ones you see on Lookbook all the time.

It looks like someone's had his two and five today.

Oh yeah. It's time to sort that out. So, um... wish me luck being a grown-up!

Hm... I wonder if there's a Wikihow page for this?

Stay tuned for next weeks post: Screw Adulthood, I'm a 20-something Slacker and I'm Proud of it!

* upwards of $7 a DAY.


** buying lunch each day is a lifestyle choice?


*** It wasn't the first time Wikihow has saved me backside, and it won't be the last.


**** I did have to make fairy bread for my friend Sonya's bridal shower a couple of months ago. Does that count?

The back-up plan (part 3)

Things I hate:

1) That, after a week of intense bonding with his mama, KJ was weaned and separated from her in the space of a week.

2) That he is now off bonding with some complete strangers (who are, I'm sure, lovely people), whom he will be taken from in two months, to be returned to re-bond with his mama, or some other Foster-parents, or me.

3) Having to go through a government department if I want to visit my nephew

4) That his caseworker doesn't check her voicemail and is never in the office when I call.

5) I haven't seen him in over a month.

*****

So here's what happened. While the baby-mama was openly determined that I take KJ if she couldn't, she was given no say in the matter. I spent days after learning that KJ was going to be taken, trying to contact his case-worker, but, as I said, she seems to have some aversion to returning people's calls, and by the time I heard from her, KJ had already been placed.

Now, I'm not one for anti-DOCS rants but, needless to say, I'm a little miffed.

And by miffed, I mean that it turns out I do have that maternal instinct, and she's like a scary mama bear.

So now baby-mama's trying to sort her life out, and if she can't be ready to get him back by the end of the nine weeks, I take him. I'm already in talks with the case-worker (that's right, she actually calls me back occasionally), and this time I have the chance to control my nephews future. Although whether that's for the best remains to be seen.

For the time being, I'm contingency-mama.

Now I can't believe I left it this long. It's time for me to be proud aunty Mel. Get an eyeful of this little bundle of awesomeness...

The back-up plan (part 2)

(source)

Needless to say, my quarter-life flashed before my eyes.

It's funny how when an event is distant and indefinite it's easy to think big, heroic thoughts. As if we were a character in a movie, we see ourselves as some other being in some other situation with some other set of limitations. We flex our imaginary muscles and envision an outcome that's rooted less in reality than we'd like to think.

When I recieved that text, things came into sharp focus. I wasn't some idealised version of myself. This was me, with my faults, my ambitions, my financial situation, with the possibility of parenthood looming (and not even a transitional orgasm to show for it).

Oh crap.

I was never one for five year plans, but I do have a firmly established list of vague, intangible dreams; things I by no means take concrete steps towards, but wholeheartedly believe I can't be happy or fulfilled without someday attaining. I also have a few dozen goals I've loudly announced and then done nothing to accomplish.

Procrastination is my favourite form of self-harm. It's never worked for me, and by worked I mean that it's never gotten me anywhere, but that's ok. I was always happy for my hopes to remain just that. Of couse, every time a birthday rolled around I'd get a faint but unnerving flutter of panic. Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, they brought with them the regret of time lost. The worry was easy to push aside though, because, like everyone my age, I had my whole life ahead of me to do things and be things and experience things, and the possibility alone has always been enough.

It's funny how when an event is distant and indefinite it's easy to think selflessly. It's easy to imagine oneself as some sort of saint, nobly sacrificing self for another, when things are going to happen (if ever) in some undefined future.

Once that text came through, though, it suddenly became a whole lot harder to get my mind off the things I was giving up. One of my housemates told me that I'd probably go through a sort of post-partum depression, but it would be called something else and it would be me mourning the future I was giving up. I was already there.

Because, of course, as terrified as I was, the only thing that had changed was my attitude. Nothing was going to stop me from doing everything I could for KJ. And as much as I lamented to my confidantes in dramatic terms the dreams I was giving up, I was still decided.

DOCS, on the other hand, weren't decided. I suppose it was the ultimate anti-climax after a week of intense stress. After trying every day to get in touch with KJ's case worker and only getting voicemail, I finally got through only to find out that KJ had already been placed in temporary care, and would remain there for the next nine weeks, while his mama worked through a case plan.

First came the despair, then the.... relief?

(to be continued)

The back-up plan (part 1)

I mentioned in a previous post that I recently became an aunt. He was born just five weeks premature, and a tiny 1504g. Severely undernourished in the womb as a result of calcification of the placenta, he was tiny and weak; dried twigs wrapped in crepe paper, a web of faint blue veins running under flimsy, translucent skin.

.

Somehow (don't ask me to explain), he had personality in abundance. I don't know how one so small, and who doesn't even have the strength to feed himself, can have that much character, but he did. He was a 1504g bundle of pure happiness and light, and they named him KJ. In the space of the moment it took me to find him, tiny and fragile amidst the blankets he was bundled up in, laying in his humidicrib, I fell madly in love. Prior to this, I'd had no idea it was possible to be this in love with someone who had only been alive for 24 hours, but in that instant, the tiny, fragile waif of a boy became the centre of my life.

But you knew all of that. I've told this part of the story before. What I failed to mention the first time around was that KJ was born into a less than ideal family situation, the son of an unemployed, uneducated teenager, who herself had spent part of her life in foster-care. DOCS (child welfare) was watching the situation closely, and, from the beginning we were all very aware that my sisters baby could be removed and placed into care any day.

And if that happened? It was discussed in depth, and decided that, as the most functional member of my family, I would apply to become KJ's carer if he was taken from my sister.

I didn't really consider the reality of the situation at the time (this all happened within two days of KJ's arrival, six weeks ago). Of course, I joked about the irony of it all; me, the pure, virginal, straight edge sister becoming a single parent, but the practicalities and consequences of the decision didn't cross my naive mind.

I made the 11 hour round trip to the hospital where KJ was being cared for every weekend after that. I'd pray for him, talk to him about his future career options, and argue with mum about what music he was to be brought up on. It was cuddles and falling more in love, but I was still the aunt, and all my plans for him were made to be orchestrated from a distance.

It wasn't until four weeks after his birth that things came into focus. I was at work, and my sister texted me..

"Mel, can you get mum to call me. DOCS have decided to put KJ into foster care."

I cried, and then I yelled, and then I went home from work early, but it wasn't until later that evening that the reality of what had just happened truly hit me. Plan A had fallen through, and plan B was... me. I'd promised that I'd do everything in my power to take him if his mother couldn't, and I was planning on keeping my word.

I was going to be a mama... by Friday.

.

(to be continued)

Welcome home... again.

(source)

After spending the greater part of my young adulthood making dumb mistakes and not going anywhere, I thought to myself "If I haven't at least learned something from this, then the whole last five years have been a complete write off."

(Of course, it never even crossed my mind to take active steps to change my circumstances. And it's such a mark of the indie/hipster kid that we look back with self pity and resign ourselves to our under-achieving ways, where we can mull over the reasons for our mediocrity, rather than getting up off of our Belle & Sebastian-listening behinds and doing something about it.

For example, after wordily proclaiming to anyone who would listen that 2010 was going to be the greatest fricken year of my life, and that everything was going to turn around and my life was going to be filled with extraordinary people, fulfilled potential and a general air of brilliance. After all of those positive thoughts and words came gushing out of me like I was some lame character out of 7th Heaven or something, the closest I came to anything resembling an actual plan to change my life was to start a new blog. Not only that, but a blog which would serve to reflect on the crapness of my world and justify (to myself at least) my lameness by explaining how it was all serving to make me into a less whiney, lame human being, whereby cleverly avoiding any actual action.)

So.. this is my new blog. Here you can read about the mess I make of my life and experience that feeling of superiority you get when you see someone really well-dressed fall over in public.

xoxo.

Mel.

P.S. Things can only go uphill from here.

© MLHL, Wednesday, February 24, 2010

*****

What you just read was the launch post of MLHL. So.. yes this is a re-post. It's also a symbol, a statement, and a vow.

Here and now I'd like to apologise for letting this blog become anything less than what I intended it to be when I launched back in February.

Don't be mistaken, I'm not apologising to you, my lovely readers (whom I love with all of my heart). I'm apologising to myself. Becuase this blog was never just a blog. It was a resolution. It was a promise that, while I certainly wouldn't stop making stupid mistakes and generally allowing life to toss me about however it liked, I would certainly become better for it.

I'd learn.

And now we're half way through 2010, the year that was supposed to be "the greatest fricken year of my life" and I feel as though I've made all the mistakes that I'm expected to make in young adulthood, but I haven't learned any of the lessons. My resolve, and this blog, have slowly disintegrated and fallen to pieces.

This post is a new start, a fresh beginning, and a vow to you, to myself, and most of all to the girl I was six months ago (and what a half-year it's been. But that's a story for another post). Now I will start learning. It's all onward and upward from here.

So, if you don't mind, I'd like to start afresh...

Hi. I'm Mel and I'm 24 years old. I'm a social klutz, an avid dreamer, an emotional wreck, a brilliant listener, a fashion victim, a thinker, a do-er (but rarely simultaneously), a blogger, a mess, and... a learner.

It's nice to meet you.

If you can't get people to be generous, turn it into a contest.

I have a confession to make. I've been seeing another blog.

Well to be honest, at this point it's a little more than a blog... It's a full blown obsession. You see, for the last month, along with three other amazing bloggers, I've been working on a project that's incredibly close to my heart. And now, FINALLY, I get to start talking about it.*

So it is with great pride and lots of giggling and jumping about excitedly that I present to you The Big Give: the internets first ever random acts of kindness contest.

Ta da!

Here's the idea: how would you use just $20US to lavish an extravagant, over the top random act of kindness on someone or a group of people to show your appreciation? What if there were prizes?

TBG is all about kindness for kindness' sake. The goal is to get people excited about being generous. Imagine a world where everyone was joyfully deliberate about finding little, creative, everyday ways to make the people in their world smile.

We launch on the 10th (USA time), and, to be very honest, I'm getting a serious case of the pre-launch nerves. About half way through prep time, we realised that the timeline was seriously flawed, and everything had to be changed around, so now registrations open on the 10th, and are open until the end of June. Contest runs through July and judging happens from 29th July - 2nd August.

Also, there will be some seriously cool content throughout.

I wanted to tell you guys now because I had a couple of favours to ask..

1. Go to http://www.goaheadmaketheirday.com/. Follow. Comment. Register!

(Because we don't launch officially until the 10th, the bloggy's a bit of a mess right now. It's a labour of love.)

2. Help to get the word out. I'm relying on the amazing blogging network to get the word out. If you are feeling the message of TBG, and want to help spread the word, blog it, Tweet it, feature it, talk about it. There are buttons available on the blog (designed by moi), and if you really want to help out, email our Promotions Coordinator, the lovely Kris from Because or Why Not, and she will email you some promotional resources. Her email address is summercherry18@hotmail.com

3. TBG: The Playlist. You guys are the first to hear about this. I had this crazy idea that we might make a playlist for TBG. Comment me some ideas of songs we might include, and we'll see if that idea goes anywhere. Songs about being nice, pancakes, pedicures, smiles, life, love, and cute boys would all be fitting.

And finally, a massive thank you to everyone who has helped make this little dream a reality. I love you.**

http://www.goaheadmaketheirday.com/

*Ok, so patience isn't really my thing, and I may have told a few of you already.
**And to all the superstar bloggers and internet celebrities out there who didn't return my TBG related emails....