Mel Learns Her Lessons

hiatus

2010-07-14T23:56:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-07-11T06:50:00.000-07:00

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)

2010-06-27T07:21:00.000-07:00

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)

2010-06-23T00:13:00.001-07:00

(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)

2010-06-21T05:22:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-06-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

(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.

2010-06-09T00:38:00.000-07:00

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....

My conversations should come with a 24 hour cooling-off period

2010-06-07T06:57:00.000-07:00

I've been known to come out with some crazy, thoughtless crap. For example, I rarely think before telling randoms I only just met that if they start their own vlog, I'll feature their first episode on my blog.

Fortunately for me (and you), Mitch is hilarious, and as long as he continues to amuse us all with his antics, I'm happy to take full resonsibility.*

I think I agreed to do a review, and since I got a shout out and some free publicity, I'm giving this two thumbs up. Enjoy, and if you think Mitch should continue vlogging, let him know in the comments section.

* however, I'd like to make one thing clear. If this goes viral, and Mitch and Alex become the latest pain in all of our inboxes, I had nothing to do with it.

That post...

2010-06-05T06:43:00.000-07:00

Source: xkcd*

Here it is. It's been coming for almost a month now. This is the post where I apologise for being such an inconsistent blogger of late, make vague reference to some real life "drama" or state that everything's "a little crazy at the moment", and promise you that sometime in the near future I'll rediscover my blogging groove and return to regular posting.

Is it just me or has there been a plague of these sort of posts flooding the blogosphere in the last couple of weeks? Has anyone else noticed? Is this an annual thing? Is there a sort of seasonal bloggers block that I'm yet to learn about in my blogging career?

I've been considering taking a month long haitus from blogging. I thought "I bet without the pressure of regular posting, inspiration will come flooding back". And then I realised that if I'm waiting for the block to go away, the pressure will come back, cancelling out any positive side-effects of the break.** There will be no haitus.

Anyway, without going into details (because over-sharing is so not my thing), there is drama. Big drama. In the next week or so, my life will either be completely smashed to pieces and rebuilt***, or nothing will change and I'll go into serious self-reflection and reevaluation-of-lifes-priorities mode, leading to lots of posts about my feelings. I'm sorry. It's just the way it is and there's nothing anybody can do about it.

In the meantime, I'm having a lot of fun "coping" with real life. Today I spent the morning eating cereal and watching iCarly and Sonny with a Chance (my favourite Saturday morning activity), took an icy can of Pepsi-Max into a long, too-hot shower (my very favourite pasttime), and then read almost 100 pages of Questionable Content and tweeted about the romantic tension between Marten and Faye (my new favourite time-suck).

I'm also excited to announce that I have an exciting announcement to make in my next post. I've been scheming, dreaming and emailing like a maniac for the last month and I've just about gone crazy waiting until I can share it with you guys. Just you wait! It's going to blow your minds.

* In lieu of an opening joke.

** Welcome to my brain: second guessing itself with unabashed fervor since 1992.
*** You'll know this has happened becuase it will mean the birth of a new blog. I've already thought of a name. No one can accuse this little blogger of getting her priorities out of whack.

Disclaimer: Any vagueness in this post was not only intentional, but brought me great amusement. The erratic nature of this post was less intentional, and more due to laziness on my part. I love you, and however undeserving I am of your glorious comments, my self-esteem still rides on them, so you should definitely leave me a message in the comments section.

Bloggerstock: What is your theme song?

2010-05-31T11:26:00.000-07:00

Bloggerstock May is here and I have the pleasure of hosting the dangerously readable (I'm on to you guys. They're not paying you to read blogs all day, y'know. Blogging, on the other hand, is an entirely different story), always hilarious Rob from The Stir-Fried Dinosaur.* As always, the blog swap gods have smiled on me.

Rob is also the man behind the Trickster Syndicate. Lovers of fiction or good writing, check it out.

And now, on with the show.

*****

Okay, well. This is it. This is the big show. Bloggerstock. I'm nervous about letting my madness
infect someone else's blog but then, Mel is sort of crazy too, no? (Editors note: Eh... fair call.)

I don't know what I'm supposed to say here, but Bloggerstock is happening. Basically, it's a big
ring of blogs. People guest-posting on other folks' blogs. It's
absolute pandmonium! For example, Suki's post goes on my blog, I'm posting on Mel's
blog, and Mel (I think) should be posting on Special
Snowflakes and Other Myths, which is also a great read. The point,
I suppose, is for everyone to expose their readers to something new.
And hopefully, we bloggers will get some new and different readers as
well. Okay. See, I suck at the official things, but I think I just
nailed that! Feeling good, feeling great.

Now. I don't know where to start with my actual post, so I'm just
going to start. This month's Bloggerstock topic is "What is your theme
song?" Now, I am a music nerd, and I am also emotionally disturbed
(says the doctor). So when I first heard that this was the topic we'd
be writing about for Bloggerstock, I was pretty much thrilled. Until I
started thinking about it. Do you know what happened when I started to
think about it? Well, I couldn't f*cking stop thinking about it. I was
going to completely dissect the meaning of "theme music" and I was
going to be very philosophical. Because I am a neurotic. And when all
else fails for a neurotic, we resort to waxing pretentious philosophy.
No no. That would be okay for my blog, but not for anyone else's. I'm
going to be sincere. And as direct as possible. And I'm just going to
answer the damned question.

Firstly, I'd like to admit that "my theme song" is actually Story of an
Artist by a lovely man named Daniel Johnston. It is probably the
most beautiful thing I've ever heard. But I can't talk about it with
other people because it is way too personal to me. And I'm not sure
anyone else would even enjoy the song. Too scary, so... no.

But. BUT!! On to my real actual answer, for all of you that have every
right and every reason to judge me based on this here one single guest
blog post.

"My Theme Song Is..." Rock and Roll by The Velvet Underground. You can
listen to it on vinyl right here:

So, basically, this is my go-to song for everything. When I'm having a
crap day, this usually fixes it. For those unfamiliar, it's an uptempo
pop song about a kid whose life is saved by rock'n'roll radio. For the
heroine of the song, "there was nothin' happenin' at all," but "one
fine day she puts on a New York station, and she couldn't believe what
she hears at all," and then finally, "she started shakin' to that
fine, fine music" and life goes on happily ever after. It's not
Shakespeare. No. But it doesn't need to be. You know why?

Because Lou Reed is the epitomy of cool. And he reminds us many many
times throughout this song that "it was all right." That's all it
takes. For me, anyway. Upbeat pop/rock music. 4/4 timing. Simple
drums. Three or four chords. And having the idea that "it was all
right" drilled into my head 41 times, by the slickest rock vocalist to
ever walk the earth.

I sort of grew up in a world of shit. Death, drugs, more death, and
poverty in suburbia. And that's all you need to know. By the time I
was old enough to piss in a toilet, I had ridiculous anxiety,
consistent sleeping problems, and I just FELT like I was weird. I
didn't have friends until I was a teenager. I had rock'n'roll instead.
Whether it was Michael Jackson or Guns 'n' Roses or Black Sabbath or
Diana Ross... it didn't matter. I could curl up inside a good song and
just stay there forever.

This song, "Rock and Roll," is a rejection of everything going on
outside. It's a lack of concern for the ideals your parents are
pushing on you... you know that "keeping up with the Jones's" thing.
This song, to me, screams, "turn off the world around you and just
feel good for a while." The simplicity, I think, is something we
forget about. That's why I think Lou Reed had a streak of genius in
him that is underrated by most, yet completely worshipped by others.
And no, I don't think it's a hip thing, I think it's a human thing.

And I'm sure some folks are thinking about how childish and naive and
idealistic it is to think this way. "What about jobs and family and
responsibilities?" But it is my firm belief, based on experience and
observation, that these things will kill you if you don't take a break
sometimes. Granted, some of us need the break more often than others.
But we all need it eventually. And this break is best enjoyed dancing
like an idiot and forgetting the world and loving your life for a
moment and laughing at it all and singing your guts out and just...
purging the sadness and the tightness and the drollness.

That's what this song does for me. It is a blatant reminder that I'm
too worried, and for no good reason. Reed says, "Despite all the
computations, you could just dance to the rock'n'roll station. And it
was all right." And I say, "Amen." Because, sometimes, that's all we
need to do. And that's all we need to know. "It was all right."

Listen to this song three times on repeat. You'll get it soon enough, I promise.

*****

Time to smile: the MLHL rainy day action plan

2010-05-24T06:58:00.000-07:00

I assume you've noticed, since I know that you all hang off my every word, that I haven't updated the bloggy in about a week. It's ok, nobody panic. I'm back now and back to being a little bit blog-crazy.

Truth be told, and I do NOT want this to be a rant post, life is sort of rubbish and way too complicated at the moment, and inspiration is at an all time low. However, no matter what's happening, life still goes on, and that's where how you deal becomes the fun part. This is a post about how I deal. Stop by when you need cheering up. Mwah!

The MLHL rainy day action plan

Download some fonts. On a bad day, most girls will treat themselves to a new pair of shoes. Me? I download some new fonts. I LOVE fonts, and there are so many great free ones out there. Go over here, or over here, and pick yourself up something pretty.

Then go and buy some shoes. What? I am a girl, remember. And I do love playing up to the stereotype.

Eat this with this, or this with this, or perhaps this with this. Oh, and of course, one of these.

Alphebetize your DVD collection, clip your toenails, do the ironing or whatever weird crap you find therapeutic.

Watch this:

Then this:

And if it's really bad, watch this:

Find the right song for your mood:
- music to empathise with (because sometimes it's ok to eat ice cream straight from the tub and feel sorry for yourself): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M9xsGJMD_NU
- music to be angry and shouty to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkuOAY-S6OY
- or, if you're over being over it, music to dance around your living room and celebrate life to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=by5zsYzN45g

Read these blogs. You're welcome.

Do something for someone else. It's a well known fact that nothing is as effective at making us smile as making someone else smile. Want proof? I dare you to stay miserable as you Photoshop your girlfriends face over Bella's in the latest Twilight movie poster. Send encouraging texts, just because. Make someone a present. Comment on my blog.

Try to remember it's not the end of the world. Unless it is, in which case, eat lots of bacon, wear some ghastly garish shade of lipstick, and blog everything you ever thought about anyone, starting with your readers.

Comment me your rainy day coping mechanisms. What do you eat/do/play/imagine/watch/shout/dream/listen to when life gets you down?

Rie Learns Her Lessons

2010-05-18T00:10:00.000-07:00

If you know me at all, you know that I tend to be a bit of a....well, if you know me, you already know.

And if you've read back to the beginning of my blog (which I'm assuming you all have) you know that MLHL was conceived out of a need to find some sense of achievement in the wisdom and maturity gained in being.... well.... you know, a bit of an idiot, the idea being that I get the nice catharsisy* feeling of saying "this is me. deal." and you get the superior feeling of knowing there's someone out there like me.

Anyway, my visitor count is down lately and my self-esteem needed a bit of a hit**, so I decided to ask a blogger buddy of mine to tell me about some of her "learning opportunities". Thought it would make a nice change, you know.

Allow me to introduce Rie, who lives over here. She's a globe-trotting, artsy-being blogger who just happens to love a bit of self-deprecation as much as I do. These are her lessons....

***

1. If someone were to meet you in real life, what would their first impression of you be?

As someone who tends to make snap-judgments of "new" people but then almost always alters that impression, I figure most people do the same to me, or at least, it's only fair if they do so. The question is--to be redundant--what is that impression, and how/why do other people form it? I suppose we typically formulate our feelings on other people primarily from their behavior and appearance during that initial meeting.

Based on my behavior, I can only assume that most people find me to be a quiet individual, and while this isn't accurate once I warm up to someone, it is a fair assumption as a first impression. I admit that initially most of my mental energy is focused on listening and sussing out the other person (read: formulating my own first impression) rather than contributing too much to the conversation. Though I don't necessarily sit there with my mouth locked in the shut position, I am less likely to offer heaps of information about myself in favor of encouraging the other person to share and talk freely. The flip-side to being thought of as "quiet" is that I'm considered easy to talk to, or I hope this is the case at any rate.

I suppose my behavior in a "first impression setting" might make me seem a little socially awkward, and I'm inclined to believe that my style of dress encourages this feeling, or maybe it just reinforces certain stereotypes that go along with being thought of as a quiet sort of person. I tend to dress pretty casually; usually I'm in jeans and a t-shirt or hoodie, and I really try to avoid dressing up whenever possible. Meeting somebody while you're wearing a t-shirt that has a skull and cross-spoons (rather than crossbones) and reads "Cereal Killer" (one of my favorite shirts) can go one of two ways. Either the other person thinks it's funny/clever/witty and compliments you on the awesomeness of your shirt--OR--they avoid eye contact while slowly shuffling further away from you. I've had both reactions, and I think they indicate that people see me as either a laid back, unique individual--OR--a quiet, dangerous person to be avoided in the future. I feel the first impression is more accurate and preferable, and it's the vibe I get most often.

Summary: My perception of the first impression I give off most often is that I'm a quiet, nerdy individual, and as for accuracy, I think the nerdy part fits quite well.

2. If you could take back one thing you've said in your life, what would it be?

I can't count how many times I've said, "I want a purple Ford Ranger that has a neon blue heartbeat stripe running down the sides!" Granted, I'd estimate that about 99.5% of my uttering that statement was between the start of 1993 to the end of 1994, and the other 0.5% is made up of either me or someone who had to listen to my insane request remembering how often I used to say that. What was I thinking? I want that statement back!

Why would I have wanted a purple truck? I've never even seen a purple Ford Ranger; let alone a purple Ford Ranger with a neon blue heartbeat stripe! Oh, the teasing that it has prompted, and the embarrassment I have for 9 year-old me. People must have thought I was a nutcase because that is a seriously detailed and bizarre request for a little kid. I question the reasoning behind that statement, and the only excuse I can come up with is that I was 100% infatuated with all things country music at the time. Maybe, somebody had a song about purple Ford Rangers?

3. What can we learn from your mistakes?

That is an excellent question, and if anyone knows the answer, could you please let me know? Oh, you want an actual example or two for your own amusement. Ha. Sure. No problem. I'll give you 4 important life lessons.

Mistake 1: Doing a back flip off the diving board at the public pool.

Lesson 1: Listen carefully for lifeguard instructions. I didn't actually hear my little pumped-up-on-the-power lifeguard buddy say that back flips weren't allowed, and when I did one, she made me take a timeout on the edge of the diving well...as a 25 year-old. People laughed, and I sulked and mumbled to myself about having not known about that rule.

Mistake 2: Deciding to travel abroad for a year after finishing my masters coursework BUT before finishing my masters thesis. (This one is a serious mistake...sorry...had to slip it in.

Lesson 2: I understood that my thesis would still be there waiting for me in all its unfinished glory, but I hadn't considered how much my motivation would drop. Also, I am now a month away from heading home and just starting to realize how much I have forgotten about my project in the past year. I'm going to have some serious work ahead of me. D'oh!

Mistake 3: Trying to race down a big hill after getting a ripstik as a Christmas present this year.

Lesson 3: Baby steps. If you're not an accomplished ripstiker on flat surfaces, a steep hill at high speeds is a recipe for disaster. I was lucky to escape with nothing more serious than some road rash on my left arm, palms, and left leg; thank goodness for helmets. Oh, an important part of this lesson: baby steps and always wear a helmet!

Mistake 4: Using my forehead as a launchpad for one of those rubber popper toys.

Lesson 4: Don't do it! Using my forehead as a rubber popper toy launchpad results in a rubber popper toy shaped hickey. Also, your roommate will laugh her butt off at your situation, and it is hard to explain how you came by your hickey to your college classmates. Yeah, I was in college when I tried this. I suppose an alternate lesson would be that if you really want to try to use your forehead as a launchpad, you should do it when you're going to be alone for the next week or so.

***

*Oh yes. I just used the word "catharsisy". I could have said "cathartic", but I didn't. Mel Cotton: kicking the English language in the jugular since 1985.

**That was NOT in the sales pitch. Sorry, Rie.

Titles I bear in 2010.

2010-05-13T07:38:00.000-07:00

It's been almost a week since I posted last, but I have a good reason for my silence, which I will get to in a moment.

In the last couple of months, three roles have been thrust upon me which have taken over my personal space, my bank account and my life. In 2010, for the first time ever, I am a bridesmaid and I am an Aunt. Allow me to share with you my experiences so far...

Auntie Mel.

When Ebony and I first went to visit our one day old nephew earlier in the week, Ebony said that "we're aunts now. It's time to start growing whiskers." I disagreed with her interpretation of what it means to be an aunt. I see myself more as the hot aunt that my nephew will someday develop a creepy infatuation for.*

In my experience (four days worth), nephews are pretty much the shiz. You can stop anyone to show them photos, ANYONE, and they HAVE to stop and look for as long as you want to keep them, and they have to say how gorgeous the photos are. Imagine doing that with pics of your Friday night shenanigans out with the guys. No way, José. It's not going to happen. But the moment you pull out a phone full of photos of nephew, you have a captive audience.

I'd like to take this moment to apologise to the Target employee, baby supply shop keeper and Rotary Lodge receptionist, each of whom I made look at about 50 photos of my nephew, in all of three positions, because babies are interesting like that.

More things to love about being an aunt; you get to max out your credit card in the most fun way imaginable. Fun, because it's practically guilt-free. Also fun because you're only the aunt. you get to buy the fun stuff like size 00000 onesies, and avoid the gross stuff like maternity pads and stretch-mark cream.

Now, without further ado, allow me to present my nephew, Keedan Jeremiah Evans, born to Bethany and Todd, 10th of May, 2010.

*heart*

Mel the Bridesmaid.
Regardless of what the wedding magazines and Katherine Heigl movies would have you believe, being a bridesmaid is about two things:

1. The swag. I'm in free crap paradise. Dress, shoes, purse, bling, and a black fur stole which, as soon as the wedding is over and done with, will become my grocery-shopping, knitting and relaxing-with-a-good-book uniform.

An appropriate clothing choice, I felt.

2. The upper-body strength. Of all the skills required to be a bridesmaid, none are so essential as the ability to strap that bride into her corset-back dress so tightly you hear ribs crack. You think I'm joking? Those dresses are an exercise in strength and endurance, and not just for the wearer. I was not aware of this, but I'm glad I am now, because it means that when I'm looking for bridesmaids I know to make my selection based on bicep diameter. I'll choose my maid of honour by which of my girlfriends can bench-press the most.

Mel the Blogger

I write and people actually read what I say AND comment. I'm constantly blown away that my little place has 77 followers. I'm not sure how that happened, but I'm so very grateful. You guys are the bestest readers a girl could ask for. *heart*

I'm especially humbled because I am such a flake of a blogger. I make a lot of promises I don't keep. But I promise you I'm going to get my act together. To date, I believe I owe you:

A vlog, and
some secrets

They are on their way. Cross my heart..

*I'm joking. It was a joke. Relax.

The situation

2010-05-07T08:43:00.000-07:00

Um... a little help please.

I just got home and it's 2 in the morning and I'm really tired and I just want to go to bed but I had to have a shower and when I got out of the shower I went to turn on the hallway light and I blew a fuse and now it's pitch black and I live in a really, really old victorian era terrace house that is probably haunted by the ghosts of the orphans who were abused here in the 1800's, or a young woman who died of the smallpox a fortnight before she was to be wed and now her ghost wanders the house searching for her beloved and.... OH CRAP I shouldn't have thought about that. Now I'm really freaking out.

All my housemates are either asleep or have been taken by the ghosts, and I'm fairly sure it's the latter because even the World of Warcrafter housemates who are always raiding at this time aren't awake and I'm feeling very alone right now and there's no one to help me with the fuse box, and I'm a girl, y'know what I'm saying? I didn't even know about regular services until I'd owned my car for two years for pete's sake. There's no way in hell I can change a fuse.

And oh no! I can't find my iPhone. I had to search for clean underwear by the light of my laptop! What if I hear a noise? Or what if I have to go to the bathroom? Am I going to take my laptop to use as a torch to go pee at 4 in the morning?

Ok, seriously guys. I'm absolutely packing it right now. Help? Someone? Anyone?

Oh and by the way, I'm seriously not joking. This is a very stream of consciousness post and I don't even care if it's rubbish because I just really needed to tell someone how terrifying my life is right now.

Words of comfort, please.

Love in action; a follow-up to "I'm a BAD mama".

2010-05-05T22:02:00.000-07:00

Y'know how I'm a bad mama?

Well not any more I'm not! I'm all over this letter writing business. Watch me not neglecting my Sponsor babies emotionally like some sort of non-neglecting maniac. Honestly, I should go pro at this!

That's right, people. I've finally gotten my act together and I'm writing my Compassion babies some very overdue letters. I stopped by the newsagency and got some Aussie postcards and stickers with Australian wildlife, which I posed with in the bathroom at work, just because I love you guys that much!

How much do I love you guys?

Enough to risk getting caught by a co-worker taking this photo of myself in the ladies.

Presents are bought, which means there's just one more thing I need.

Love.

I plan on packing these letters with so much love that the translators will drop what they're doing and start going at it right at their desks. I kid. But really, these letters are going to be the most lovely and uplifting thing you can imagine.

Who'd like to help?

If you want to help me make up for being such a crappy Sponsor Mama, then leave a comment to each of my sponsor bubs and I'll include it in their letter. Write something encouraging, ask a question or apologise on my behalf for not writing sooner.

And, of course, I'll post their replies here.

So who are you writing to exactly? Let me introduce you to my kids..

Jerrylyn is 9 years old, lives in the Philippines and likes playing with her friends. She's also an academic superstar and a talented artist, as you can see from the Christmas note she sent me...

You keep holding back that "awww". Let's see how long you can stand it.

Timothy is 5, lives in Uganda and, judging by his photo, is a straight up gangsta! So don't mess with him or he'll shiv you.

As I mentioned, I kinda, sorta lost my sponsor bubba's photos and info, but I called today for replacements and you can bet this proud mama is going to be posting them right here as soon as they arrive.

In the meantime, get commenting! Oh, and be sure to include your name and where you're from, so Jerrylyn and Timothy will know who is writing to them.

I'm a BAD mama

2010-05-04T08:41:00.000-07:00

Do you remember how I told you guys that I'm a mama?

Do you remember how I told you all about the joys of sponsoring a child from a developing nation? The cute letters in the mail? The sense of superiority that comes with that little sponsorship card?

Remember how I told you that it was all a big, lovely, love-in?

Well there's one aspect of child sponsorship that I neglected to tell you of. I didn't tell you about the guilt.

That's right. Along with the sweet drawings and awkwardly translated messages, my sponsor baby letters have, of late, been coming with a healthy dose of guilt.

All I did was never wrote to her. Ever. And I've tried, for real. It's just that I never know what to say! I know I said that Compassion will send you a letter writing guide. I know I said it's easy. I lied of course.

But did I really deserve a guilt trip? That's right, people. My sponsor baby is guilt tripping me. Three letters in a row have held the same sentiment. Little girl is young, so her real mama writes for her.

Let me tell you what I'm talking about...

Dear Miss Mel Cotton,

Hi! Hello! How are you there? I'm hoping that
you're in the best of health. (This all seems sweet enough, but you won't
believe what she's setting me up for)
Jerrylyn is back in school again and she is
now in grade 3. (See that? My little Jerrylyn's an academic superstar!
Gonna change the world, this one)

Her birthday is near. On September 15 she
will turn 9 years old. As if it's only yesterday, now she'll be getting a lady!

(I know what you're thinking. What's Mel going on
about? This is all perfectly lovely. Well just you wait and see. Sweet little
Jerrylyn's about to strike the death blow)

Jerrylyn keeps on asking me "why is it that
her sponsor didn't write to her nor sending her photos? She wants to see even
your photos and she wishes to receive letters from you.

(Ouch. My heart.)

I end my letter here... I'm very thankful to
you. Jerrylyn is always waiting for your reply.

Respectfully

Etc. Etc.

Did you see that? My sponsor baby just laid an emotional smack down on me. Harsh much? I mean, I send her $50 a month. What more does she want? Did I really deserve that?

Oh who am I kidding? Of course I deserve it! Truth is, I'm a terrible Compassion mama. I'm the absentee parent who makes up for her lack of quality time by showering baby with expensive gifts. When my baby is 16 and riding around with scruffy looking boys on the backs of motorcycles, I'm going to ask "what did I do wrong? I gave her everything she could ever want!" Not once will I stop to consider that all she really wants is a sponsor mother's love.

I still can't find Jerrylyn's picture, btw. Here's the Christmas card she sent me instead. A bad mama? Moi? Nay!

Go on. Unfollow me if you want. I'll understand.

But for those of you who decide to stand by this sorry excuse for a sponsor mama, I need you to hold me accountable to my revelation. From now on, I'm going to be the best sponsor mama there ever was. Anything I can find that'll fit into a DL envelope, Imma send over to that little girl. She'll have so many sticker sheets and bookmarks with pictures of koalas on them she won't know what to do with them.

I'm coming, baby. Just hold on. My letters will be there soon!

***

Time for the plug...

Be rad. Sponsor a child. I for one only date guys who sponsor children.

If you're in Oz: compassion.com.au
For the USA: compassion.com
And residents of Canada, head over here: compassion.ca

Everywhere else, google it. It's well worth the effort.

And for the love of pete, write that kid a letter!

Bloggerstock: the internet ate my...

2010-04-30T09:14:00.000-07:00

It's game on! The humble blog-swap has been taken to a whole new level by a group of imaginative bloggers with a desire to mix things up a tad. Born from the newly revived 20sb chat room, Bloggerstock is all about expressing the balance between the connectedness and stunning diversity within the blogosphere. Bloggers post their take on a common post-title. The result? Follow the chain back through ten blogs and see for yourself.

I am posting over at the lovely Shinxy's place and, as I mentioned earlier, MLHL has the phenomenal pleasure of hosting Kris from Because or Why Not.

Bon appetit!

***

Just let me put this out there because there's no easy way to say it. The internet is pretty much my bff. Some would call it a relationship, I suppose. I've become torn considering the circumstances. I won't lie, it is good. After a hard day I look forward to spending a little quality time together. Although I will admit that the internet is a bit moody, I usually find that if I invest my share of effort then I'm not disappointed.

I know it sounds good. And, for the most part, I'm happy. Yeah, we fight sometimes, and I do worry about how seductive it can be. Full of unexpected tricks. Just when I start to get bored along comes something new. But these endless notifications. Talk about craving attention!

I guess this is what has concerned me of late. I'm kinda wondering if maybe the internet isn't too needy. I see others, some in deeper then me and wonder to myself if I'm strong enough to keep this under control.

Have I been in denial? Is this a healthy relationship? I'm plagued with all the usual doubts. See, I've always pursued experiences. I'm the kind of person who won't play cafeworld or farmville. I've been a barista and a farm girl. Ditto guitar hero. I get it. They're games. They're fun. I'll just claim to want to experience life for real.

So, the internet and I stay up late. I dedicate my time, effort, and communication skills. And now it's hitting me. The internet is eating my reality. Devouring every last tender little morsel. Spitting out the distasteful little remnants even it can't digest. I'm attached to my internet. Attached to the connections it gives me. The humour, freedom and depth. But mostly because it's an easy cyber version of these. "Lol", telling people who I want to be, moving on. Abandoning conversations, multitasking, a popularity number that somehow justifies my existence here.

What about a phone call? What about an envelope and a stamp? What about a long walk with someone who might take some effort?

We're not breaking up, the internet and me. I couldn't, really. Not now, with the friendships I have, and all the truly positive benefits. But I do want my reality back. I'll claim it piece by piece. Feel the sun on my face. Hang out with people who can tell when I raise my eyebrows. Smile at strangers because I like their face, not their avatar. I'll think a little bit about what I want from the other part of myself. You know, the part that breathes, hurts, laughs... lives.

Well colour me narcissistic.

2010-04-29T06:52:00.000-07:00

I bought a webcam. This has led to a few revelations:

I am incredibly narcissistic. Ever since discovering Twitcam, I have had reckless thoughts of broadcasting every tedious detail of my life for all to see, like some incredibly boring reality TV show. Episodes will in include "Mel cleans her room", "Mel watches The Office instead of studying", and "Mel blogs about blogging. Again."
I am a champion Chatroulette troll. My favourite trick is asking chatters if they'd like to hear about Jesus. "Do you know that Jesus loves you?", "would you like me to pray for you?" I could go on in a bikini and still be next'd in under a minute. I'm just that skilled.
Vlogging is the new blogging. And, in case you were wondering, no, there isn't any aspect of my life that's too tedious to be filmed and uploaded to Youtube. My shopping list? Uploaded. An epic retelling of my latest hair experimentation? Uploaded. A dramatically narrated filming of me clipping my toenails? You got it. Uploaded! Yes, I'm turning into one of those people. Feel free to unfollow the moment I post a photo of myself in the bathroom mirror.

And on that last note, I think it's well and truly time to take MLHL into the audio visual realm. That's right. Since I have decided that onscreen suits me, my first vlog post is on its way.

How I feel normally

How I feel in front of my Logitech C120 Webcam*

However, to pull this off I need your help. When I tried to come up with a topic for my first vlog, I was rendered speechless.** I can type up a storm, but it turns out recording my thoughts on video is a whole nutha story.

Since I'm ~~too lazy~~ unable to come up with a topic for my vlog post, how about I get you to do all of the work for me? Since I assume you all spend many a sleepless night wondering what brand of toothpaste I use and how many times I've traveled overseas, I'm going to give you the opportunity to ask. That's right! I will be answering all of your questions in my first ever vlog post!

Just leave me all of your previously unspoken musings about yours truly in the comments section.

Questions you ask might include:

How is someone as amazing as you still single?

Mel, will you be the God mother of my baby?

Oh Mel, will you ever learn?

***

You know how I already had two guest posts in the last month? Well guess what's happening on Friday? That's right, another guest blogger! I'm over the moon excited about this one.

Remember Kris, who I raved about in my last post? She will be posting here as part of the first ever Bloggerstock. I've read her post and between you and me, I'm not 100% sure I'm happy to post it. Say what you like about me, but I'm not thrilled about the best piece my blog has seen being posted by someone else.

Just promise me that however much you love her, you'll always love me more. Promise? PROMISE?

*DON'T Google that. Or do. Whatever. The cam was cheap, ok! But so am I. I can own that.

**Mum, if you're reading this, stop laughing. Also, how the hell did you find my blog?!

Time for some lovin'

2010-04-27T22:19:00.000-07:00

Who's ready for some lovin'? I was honoured to receive a couple of rad awards recently from the lovely Ella (From the Stupidest Corner of my Mind) and Magpie (Dazzled By Life). Ta lovelies! I am so excited to be able to pass them on to some of my very favourite reads. Don't you just love a good blogroll? These people all come highly recommended by me, so get clicking!

The Sunshine Award.

The Sunshine Award is awarded to bloggers whose positivity & creativity inspire others in the blog world. So, are you ready to be inspired?

Andy from Andy Hmmm - Andy is the Vince Noir of the Blogosphere. Make a list of positive blogs without Andy Hmmm? Andy is made of Sunshine. Andy is the original Sunshine kid. Click the link and prepare to be dazzled.

Cat from Oh, The Places You Will Go - When I read the description for this award, I couldn't get past Cat. Care to be inspired by a blog that's filled with positivity and creativity? Spend some time at Oh, The Places.. Cat has enough creative inspiration to get a million bloggers turning their backs on their computers to make charming sequined brooches and hair clips.

Heather from Boyfriend Challenged - Hands up if you're challenged when it comes to the opposite sex? And hands up if you would feel better after reading someone elses dating escapades and mishaps? And finally, hands up if you would prefer those stories to be recounted with less whine and more wit and alacrity? Heather is lovely, read her.

Kerrie from She Wrote for the Sea - In her blog, Kerrie has managed, through her writing and photography, to create a world that is peaceful and uplifting. Visiting her space is like being esconced in a little nest of sunlight and sweetness. It will make you sigh with contentment.

Kate from Camelshoes - Kate is lovely and creative. Hers is a world of inspiring tidbits. Over at Camelshoes you'll find lots of pretty things to look at and enjoy.

Master of Karate and Friendship Award

Best. Award. Ever. I was stoked to get this one, and I'm just as thrilled to pass it on. This award is all about celebrating friendships that have been formed through blogging. Since I started MLHL, I have met some amazing people, and I am so happy to call the people I've met through blogging my friends. I would like to pass this award to some of my favourite people in the Blogosphere. Clicky clicky, my dears. Everyone knows that the coolest people write the coolest blogs.*

Kris from Because or Why Not - I've raved about Kris' blog before, but I haven't told you about her. Kris is just as sweet, down to earth and honest as her blog. How am I lucky enough to have friends like her?

Shinxy from Vacuous Ramblings - I never leave a conversation with Shinxy without being inspired or challenged. The more I get to know her, the more I am blown away by this beautiful, amazing lady. For those of you who aren't fortunate enough to know her personally, check out her brilliant, brutally under-appreciated blog and prepare to be amused no end by her killer sense of humour.

Bobby from Inside the Mind of Booya - If the blogosphere was Buffy, Bobby would be the Xander of the group. He's like the little brother I never had. He's the guy who is more like one of the girls. He's going to kill me when he reads this.

Risha from You Can Read Me Anything - I'd hate this girl if I didn't love her so much. Risha is stunning; funny, sweet and charming. More than that though, she's got a beautiful heart! Her bloggy is warm, funny and inspiring. Oh, and her blog is having a grand competition at the moment. Check it out!

Ella from From the Stupidest Corner of my Mind - Am I allowed to return awards? I really hope so, because Ella is by far my master of karate and friendship. Only maybe not the karate part.. But she is pretty rad at friendship, and blogging!

* Oh go on, let me gush!

Book trivia fun :)

2010-04-24T23:31:00.000-07:00

So, while Mel's busy on her Anzac long weekend she asked me to stop in and do some house sitting for her. Until a moment ago, I was intirely unsure as to what to put. So I've decided on a game.

What i would like you all to do is: I'm going to put up a list of quotes out of books but am not going to put what book said quote is out of.
It's up to you to guess. Please, no cheating, don't just take our generation's way out and simply google it. Someone may know without doing so, leave it for them to answer :)

"Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop"
"Culture, what's culture," Melena said lazily. People are people."
I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.
"What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?"
"I like a quiet life, you know me."
It was like being approached by a decorated holiday tree tiptoeing in jeweled slippers

Enjoy!

Ebony x

Morning Person

2010-04-22T22:54:00.000-07:00

If I could have a superpower, it would be the supernatural will to resist the snooze button on my alarm clock. My superhero costume would be the hair and make up I had time to do because I didn't spend 45 minutes lying, half awake in bed when I should have been getting ready for work. They would call me Morning Person and the forces of darkness would hear my name and tremble.

Or the forces of first light, anyway.

***

If I was Morning Person, maybe I wouldn't have been in late to work today for the third day in a row. And if I could get that one little piece of my life under control, perhaps everything else would fall into line. And that would make a nice change from the falling apart state my life is currently in. Perhaps falling apart is a tad over-dramatic. Truth be told, the erosion has been so gradual that for the most part I've barely noticed it happening until the damage was done.

I'm going away to hang out with the most amazing people I know for the long weekend, and when I come back I have grand plans to be the sort of person who, through hard work and foresight, does everything amazingly.

I've made the same vow several times before, but this time it's going to be... again.

***

As for blog-related amazingness, I have lots of crazy ideas. In true MLHL style, I plan to blog about them and then get distracted by something else and forget all about them.

But for now, how does this sound...

Giveaways - Free stuff. What more is there to say?

Vlogs - shattering the carefully constructed image I've spent months creating in one, 3-minute long video.

Other stuff - mostly just references to the ugly comp, so that I can relive the one shining moment of my blog, over and over and over, until it becomes glaringly obvious to all of you that I'm forever going to blog in the shadow of my former glories, never again reaching my full potential.

But, you know... free stuff.

Oh, and while I'm at conference over the long weekend, my little sister, Ebony will be house-sitting for me. I've left her really strict instructions for while I'm away; no boys, no booze, don't forget to feed the fish and for the love of pete, put everything back where you found it!

You kids have fun now. I'll see you on Tuesday.

Mel the tour guide

2010-04-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

I love my city. I love the crowds. I love the grit, the texture. I love the colour, and I LOVE the food.

Today, I would like to make you an offer you will find it very hard to refuse. I would like to invite you to experience Sydney at the ~~mercy~~ hands of one of my many alter-ego's, Mel the tour guide. I can't promise you a smooth journey. I can't promise we will see Sydney at it's best. What I can promise you is excitement, drama and a whole lot of fun.

Hold on, darlings. we're in for a bumpy ride...

Day 1: On day one of our week we will pretend to be hipsters in Sydneys alt/vintage/indie hub, Newtown. If you're wondering why that name sounds so familiar, it's because Newtown is the station where all the cute Inner West Line boys alight from my train each day. Don't play dumb. You know where this is going... Bring your dark glasses and walking shoes honey, because we're going boy watching!

And of course, while you're here, we'll pay a visit to Sydney's best burger joint, BurgerFuel for kumera fries and the best veggie burger you've eaten in your life. Boys and burgers, could you ask for a better first day in beautiful Sydney?

Day 2: Today we hit the city. Our first stop is the CBD's biggest department store, David Jones, where I will introduce you to my very favourite city past time: hunting for free samples. Be sure to bring your roomiest purse to fit all the pint-sized Clinique, Dior and Estee Lauder we'll scam. I mean score.

After that we'll hit George Street, the place to be on a Friday night. The street is packed with 20-somethings out enjoying all of Sydney's hottest night-spots. I've yet to figure out where they are exactly, but I'm sure that between us we can find them.
After that we'll hit Darling Harbour, grab a late night Starbucks, and sit too close to couples who are PDA-ing to see how uncomfortable we can make them*.

Day 3: Today we're hitting the iconic Bondi beach. Now we could swim and sunbake, but where's the fun in that? A trip to the beach Mel style looks more like 1) flirting with the cute life-guards and 2) trying to get on hit prime time reality TV show, Bondi Rescue. To achieve the latter we may have to resort to public nudity or pick a fight with some strangers, but I did promise you a week of excitement, and what sort of a hostess would I be if I went back on my word?

Once we tire of the flirting and fame-chasing, we will stealth photograph old men in budgie smugglers (click if you dare) and text the photos to unsuspecting randoms. We will find ourselves incredibly amusing and giggle probably a little more than the joke deserves.

Oh what am I saying? Giggle all you want. We're hilarious!

Day 4: On day four it's off to the native wildlife park to partake in the obligatory tourists brush with Australia's wildlife. For today's activity we have two options; we can go to the wildlife park where my little sister Ebony was attacked by a kangaroo, or we can go to the wildlife park where Ebony was attacked by a goat. This will also cover the 'Mel's family history' portion of your trip.

Some people would have you look at family albums.

Pictured: Ebony, using whatever she can find to defend herself against Australia's wildlife.

Day 5: And now we come to the final day of our holiday. Of course, since we've spent all of our money and energy already, I've come up with the most Aussie thing I could think of that doesn't involve cash or leaving the couch; a Secret Life of Us marathon and vegemite on toast!

And that's it. I hope you enjoy your stay!

***

Do you remember how I'm incredibly insecure? Well not this week I'm not, because I got some awards**!

This week, I was awarded not one, but two spanking 150x150px squares of validation. Check these beauties out:

Thanks to Magpie of Dazzled by Life and Ella of From the Stupidest Corner of My Mind for the kudos. Incidentally, I would happily spend the better part of any day raving about either of these two ladies, and their blogs. You'll click the links of you know what's good for you.

To accept these awards I'm supposed to tell you five things that make me happy, and share five things about myself. I've just told you five things that I love doing, and I'm sure you've learned a couple of things you may not have wanted to know about me from my perfect week.

I have ten wonderful blogs in mind for these babies, but I think I will need to save the awarding for a time when it's a little less 1:30am-ish. I feel a blog-roll coming on!

* I am NOT bitter about being single. It's just funny is all.. Stop looking at me like that!!

** You'll let me know if I take the self-deprecating, I'm-so-insecure jokes too far, right?

Guest Post: The Best Part of Blogging

2010-04-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in my last post, I am taking part in the 7th 20sb.net Blog Swap. It's an exciting opportunity to discover a new blogger and I couldn't be more excited to introduce you to my lovely blog swap partner. Cait blogs over at Finding My Balance and I know you guys are going to fall in love with her words, just like I did.

Bon appetit!

***

When I talk about blogging, I usually defer to the typical reasons I enjoy it because I’m explaining it to someone who doesn’t blog.

These are reasons that, if you’re a blogger, you’ve heard over and over again and may even have used yourself. We love having a voice, having others read our stories and learn about us. To some extent, we love the attention (you know this is true, even if it’s only a teeny tiny part of it). Thanks to 20-Something Bloggers, we have the opportunity of connecting with people who are going through the same exact situations we are – or maybe situations we couldn’t even fathom in our own lives.

I’ve been “blogging” for quite a while, although when I was Awkward Teen Cait, that’s not what it was called – I just had a Xanga that I updated on the daily. Every night, after my homework was done, I would recount the entire day’s activities, whether that be who I thought should win the student council election or how funny it was when my friend fell off of the treadmill in gym class (don’t worry – she was fine). I bounced from one Xanga to another, then in college moved to Diaryland before finally making it on Blogger. It was a big step, because at that point I was a “real” blogger.

So, I’ve been blogging since I was a little freshman in high school, when I had braces and thought it was cool to sign off every post with hearts and stars. Eight years later, at the age of 23, I’ve honed my story-telling skills and learned how to pour my heart out to others. (And I stopped with the hearts and stars, too.)

Although I find I blog for many different reasons, reasons that change every other day, my absolute favorite part about blogging is that I have the past eight years of my life documented online. I have access to all the experiences I had from high school on. If I can’t remember the specific details of a certain time in my life, I can hop online, look it up in my archives, and be reminded of exactly what I was doing and thinking. Or, I can feel nostalgic and get lost reading post after post, traveling back to a specific time and place.

I tend to be someone who loves to look back on the past and relive the best moments in my life. I have a peculiarly good memory, but there are things I do forget, and having it all just a click away is incredible.

Oversharing is caring Pt. 1

2010-04-13T08:05:00.000-07:00

I had a little incident recently. Something happened that I am not very proud of. In fact, I have managed to hide it from the majority of my social circle to this day, including all of you. Although I did have an irritatingly vague cry about it a couple of weeks ago, and irritatingly vague, in my opinion, is the very worst kind of abuse a blogger can heap on her readers.

Although some would argue that rambling is a worse crime, and I'll get to the point eventually, I promise. In the words of Tim Freedman, thank you for loving me at my worst.

Deep breath, and time to share.

I lost my license. It turns out my definition of a reasonable driving speed is different to the laws, and the law decided that I should take a 3 month forced vacation from my beautiful car.

As I said, I was mortified. But at the same time, I knew that I couldn't be the only this has happened to amongst my friends. I knew that if I only told some people, I'd be met with a chorus of don't-tell-anyone-but-that-happened-to-me-once-too's that would make me feel a million times better. Even so, I just couldn't bring myself to share my secret.

Anyway, that was a long, meandering story that was leading to a point I could have made five paragraphs ago. In fact, you could probably just skip to this part if you wanted. What was that? You already read the pointless story? Oh well that's too bad then, isn't it?

Sharing is fun and leads to much 'oh oh me too'-ing, which in turns leads to an overall feeling of affirmation. So I've decided that I will occasionally share something with you all that I should probably be ashamed to admit to anyone. And in the MLHL spirit of competitiveness, I'm going to try and top myself for ickyness/embarrassment/weirdness each time. This will serve the dual purposes of satisfying your voyeurism and my egotism.

If you love me at all, you'll tell me that I'm not alone. Ok, here goes..

I want to marry Edward Cullen. Not in an ironic way. Not in an "Oh look at me! I'm so aware of my own lameness" sort of way, as I'm occasionally inclined to do.

*non-ironic swoon*

For realz. I am in love with a sparkly, fictitious vampire. Turns out pussy, pasty, possessive and boring as all hell is sort of my thing.

Boys, if that describes you, um.. leave a comment... I guess....?

***

This post-series is in honour of Shinxy, who recently burst into the 20sb chat room, told us all exactly what her sex life looked like right at that moment and, when asked why she thought we needed to hear that, responded by saying "sharing is caring".

If you think Shinxy's amusing, you should read her blog, Vacuous Ramblings. Go read it. You'll thank me. No, I mean now. Go read it now! Why are you still here? Go!!

***

Oh and one other thing. I'm participating in the 7th 20sb blog swap. This means that when I post next, it will be over here, and then next time MLHL comes up on your feed reader, it will be bringing you words from the lovely Princess Cait. Be sure and show her lots of love while she's here.

The specs factor* UPDATED

2010-04-10T01:30:00.000-07:00

I'm not the kind of person who looks good in clothes. Now don't get all encourage-y like you guys do so well. I'm not fishing for compliments here. I don't hate my appearance at all, but I do have a shape that's difficult to dress. Clothes shopping has always been my least favourite pasttime, and I've spent many a long Saturday pacing the length of my local Westfield searching, more often than not in vain, for an outfit that looks good.

No siree, a clothes horse I am not.

But there's one thing that works for me without fail. In fact, I rarely come across a pair of these that I don't rock. I look really good in glasses. Really, really good.

I desperately want a pair of those horn rimmed bad boys that all the kids are wearing at the moment.

and when I marry Johnny Depp we're going to make the cutest couple ever!

But there's one little thing standing in the way of my nerd-chic aspirations.

20/20 vision.

When I was little my mum told me that if I tried on other peoples glasses it would wreck my eyes and then I would need glasses of my own. For years after that, I religiously tried on the glasses of anyone that I knew well enough to ask without it seeming creepy, and a few people who I maybe didn't know that well. Every pair of specs I've tried have reinforced my conviction that this is the look for me, but to this day, I still have perfect vision. It's a catch 20/20.**

I've considered doing the non-prescription thing like the hipsters do, but I never thought I had enough hipster-cred*** to pull it off. However, I'm starting to reconsider.

So today I come to you with a plea. Tell me I'm wrong. Convince me that my fear of looking like a complete try-hard is misplaced. Tell me that getting non-prescription specs would not make me a grade-A poser. Give me permission to tap my inner nerd.

If not for me, then do it for the blog-fodder this little obsession of mine with will certainly provide.

Please?

* I know, alright. I really couldn't think of a better title for this post.

** I'm so sorry. You guys don't deserve that sort of treatment. I just couldn't help myself.

*** Hipster-cred. Is that a contradiction in terms?

UPDATE: When I was younger I desperately wanted to need glasses. Every time I went to the optometrist, I'd hope that he'd tell me my vision was less than perfect, and yes, I was foolish enough to try on other peoples prescription glasses in the hope that it would ruin my own vision. I want to assure you though that I have seen the error of my ways and I am now 100% grateful for my 20/20 vision. I'm so glad that if I ever get glasses it will be of the non-prescription variety.

And the winner is...

2010-04-08T07:53:00.000-07:00

You may be familiar with my profile pic...

... and if you're anything like me, you will also be familiar with the 45 minute self-photoshoot it took to get a pic of the back of my head I was happy enough with to post on the internet. Who knew the back of one's head could be un-photogenic?

One of these will be the perfect profile pic. There HAS to be ONE...

For anyone who has been there (and for the rest of you who aren't willing to admit it) you would understand how it must go against the grain to intentionally put an unflattering photograph of yourself on the internet. Which is why I want to award mega special kudos to everyone who entered the First Annual* MLHL Ugliest-Self Portrait competition. You are all my heroes.

And now for the moment you've all been waiting for. Here she is, the one that YOU voted as the girl with the very ugliest self-portrait..

VALERIE!

You ain't got no alibi**, Valerie. You're the winner of the first Ugly Self-Portrait competition, and I must say, you are a deserving winner at that.*** Congratulations!

There are a few more people I'd like to thank for making this little comp a success...

Thank you to Claire and Cat, who were kind enough to let me use their USP's for promotional purposes, and all in the name of friendship. You guys are getting the best Christmas presents ever, no doubt.

Special thanks goes to Cat for providing the gorgeous prize. Be sure to check out her Made It shop over here for many more pretty morsels.

Thanks to you guys for voting, and giving me just cause to run upstairs to Cat's office repeately to give her score updates over the last three days. This wouldn't have happened without you guys. Thanks for getting into the USP spirit!

And finally, a big thank you to all of the entrants. You are truly courageous****. Thank you for making the first annual MLHL USP Competition an event to remember.

*You heard correctly. The USP comp will be back, and next year I'm going to find some more synonyms for the word "ugly". You're welcome.

**Don't groan! I've been itching to use that joke for this whole competition and you should be grateful I refrained from making about a million other lame jokes I've been itching to break out. I didn't because I care.

***You have no idea how hard it is to congratulate someone on winning a comp like this without being offensive. Um... "You're ugly. Everyone thinks so. Have a brooch." I don't think so. I'm sorry Valerie.

****You were indeed courageous. Of course, if you made your ugly pic into, oh I don't know, your Facebook Profile Pic, you would be a straight up legend. Go on, do it. You know you want to.

VOTING TIME: Who's the ugliest?

2010-04-05T17:51:00.000-07:00

It's the moment you've all been waiting for. Votes are now open for the First Annual MLHL Ugliest Self-Portrait Competition.

How to vote:

Leave a comment voting for your top three entries, your favourite for 3 points, the next for 2 and the next for 1 point.
Voting will remain open until 11:59pm on Thursday April 8 (AEST. As in Sydney time).
I will add up the points once voting has closed, and the winner will be announced on Friday.
I will only accept one vote per person.
Have fun! This is possibly the only time it's ok to tell someone they look supremely grotesque. Enjoy it while you have the chance!

Here are the ~~uglies~~ entries...

1. Benny from Young Urban Amateur

2. Steph from Not the Oxygen

3. Valerie from The Journey to a Better Me

4. Sean from Three Rounds and a Sound

5. Punky from With God (& the internet) all things are possible

6. Nel from Finding Rabbit

7. Magpie from Dazzled by Life

8. Greg from You're only as cool as your beard

9. Ella of From the Stupidest Corner of my Mind.

10. Allie from Hyperbole and a Half

11. CJ from Living Through It

12. Bobby from Inside the Mind of Booya

13. Shinxy from Vacuous Ramblings

(Ooh, a little controversy. If you'll read the rules closely, they only said that you needed to enter a self-portrait. I never specified that it needed to be a photograph. Does Shinxy deserve your vote for illustrated gruesomeness?)

14. Angela from Amost Incoherent Ramblings of a Twenty-Something

(and the controversy continues. Although it might have been assumed, I never specified that entries couldn't be digitally altered. Do you think Angela deserves your vote? )

Sorry Mum!

2010-04-04T06:31:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning only to find to my utmost horror that someone had unfollowed my blog. Of course, this led to an early morning emotional meltdown. Someone out there had decided they disliked my writing so much that, rather than just ignore me in their feed reader, they were willing to go to all the effort of hitting "unfollow".

Way harsh man.

As I sat drowning in a sea of strong coffee and shattered self-worth, I thought I'd take a quick look through my followers list to see if I could figure out who was missing.

I did. It was my housemate.

I think it's time to call a family meeting.

***

Later on today we were hanging out at Maccas after church, when one of our teenagers turned to me and said "oh yeah. We were saying earlier that you're not as funny this year. Yeah, last year you were really funny, but you're not any more."

My friends then proceeded to have an in depth discussion about whether or not I was still funny, while I was sitting right there.

The scales tipped in my favour when Matty P. recalled "that week when you were really mean to the sunday school kids. That was hilarious."

Yes it was, Matt. Yes it was.

***

Further anecdotal evidence that mums on Facebook are a dangerous thing, and the undeniable fact that my little sister, Ebony, takes after me in the realm of undeniable hilarity. I logged onto the 'Book this morning only to find this as Ebony's status update:

"I <3 big dick in and around my mouth."*

Clearly a joke of the variety that are made by your guy friends when they discover you've forgetten to log out of Facebook account,** and I'm sure we all have stories we could tell about that.***

A couple of hours later, Ebony had caught on. I found this little nugget of hilarity on her profile five minutes ago:

***

Happy Easter, everyone!

* It's days like these I'm glad I don't have Adsense. Can you imagine the advertisements that one little sentence would generate?

** The last time Ebony's friends hacked her fb, there were less references to dick and more alarmingly realistic rendering of my little sister coming out to Facebook. After repeatedly redialling Ebony's number for half an hour, ready to do the "you came out to Facebook before your own sister" rant, I finally got hold of her, only to be casually informed the whole this was a joke. I failed to see the funny.

*** Sharing is fun, and I do love waking up in the morning only to find several comments have been left on my last post. Hint hint...

Put me in a box

2010-04-01T03:57:00.000-07:00

Put me in a box. Tell me where I begin and where I end. Mark out my boundaries. Fence me in so that I can't help but colour between the lines. Reduce me to a list of traits. Colour code me. Turn me into something that we can both be comfortable with.

Tell me my type, my temperament. Tell me why I respond the way I do. Tell me I'm no different to everybody else. Tell me I'm not unique. I'll tick the boxes, circle a number between one and five, if you'll then crunch the numbers and tell me who I am.

Diagnose me. Tell me why I do what I do. I'd find it terribly validating to have a name put to my condition. To be justified by psychological jargon, and medicated accordingly. To be normalised.

Teach me my lines, and I will speak them with perfect accuracy. I feel no need to improvise. I'll happily not break character if you'll only tell me the part I'm to play.

***

Hope is the very thing that makes being human bearable. But hope is a high-stakes game. It's soaring highs but it required copious amounts of patience, and the flipside is the overwhelming fear of disappointment.

Yes, fear is the right word for it. Disillusionment is terrifying and I think I'm becoming jaded. Hope doesn't hold the power it used to. It used to steer me, and I miss that terribly. By nature (tell me my type...) I'm practical and I have real trouble seeing the point in something as intangible as a promise as yet unfulfilled. I've been through the cycle more times than I can count; the intoxication that comes with the belief that that something that isn't can be, and the nauseating descent that follows as reality reclaims its hold on my mind. I wonder if there's anything that has the power to crush the human spirit like hope disappointed?

***

I am feeling a little reflective today, and I apologise if you came here looking for something more amusing. Don't worry, I'm not often like this and I promise I'll be a bit more my usual self by the weekend. While you wait for me to regain a little perspective, you might like to read a beautifully honest blog by a lovely lady who writes with an almost imperceptible, but always undeniable undercurrent of hope. Her name is Kris and you can find her delectable words over here.

The art and science of taking a truly ugly self-portrait, with special guests, Cat and Claire

2010-03-29T16:05:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have taken your entry photo for the Ugly Self-Portrait Comp, you will know that taking a truly grotesque self-portrait is no easy task. If you're anything like me, you now have a camera full of photos that you definitely won't be using as your profile pic any time soon, but nothing that can truly be classed as "ugly".

This won't be my new Facebook DP, but it won't be winning me brooch-y goodness any time soon either.

Yes, taking a really fugly picture of yourself is an artform. That's why I've decided to post a brief guide to the art and science of the ugly self-portrait.

For this post, I've recruited two of my best friends, Claire (the original USP master) and Cat (the lovely lady behind our delightful prize). I would like to take a moment to thank them for letting me do what I'm about to do. They've taught me that true friendship means sacrificing your dignity for the sake of your bff's blog. I love you guys!

And now, down to business.

***

This is Claire...

This is also Claire...

Do you see what I was talking about when I said she was the original master?

Claire really had mastered the art of the USP, and I had a chat with her about what makes a truly superb ugly self-portrait. Let me tell you what she shared with me:

It's all about the chin - As you can see from Claire's USP, it's all about achieving maximum chin-age. By taking the shot from a low angle, looking down, you're guaranteed at least two chins. And the more the better, in this game.

The faux hot pic - Photo's where you're trying to look attractive, but failing are more funny and affective. So don't be afraid to smile!

Think outside the (face) box - Having hair around face is generally a no-no, especially for girls, who tend to look more attractive with a side fringe, rather than less. Hair pulled straight back, Claire says, will help get maximum ugliness.

I learned most of what I know about USP's from Claire, (please don't make me post the photo again. I can't bear it), but remember, you can only learn from others up to a point. It's all about adding your own flair.

***

Candid shots are an area of contention when it comes to the ugly pic. A bad/drunk/tired photo you took at a party is NOT an ugly pic. A bad pic, yes, but not ugly.

However, every once in a while you snap a pic that's just so disturbing it can't go unseen.

Take, for example, the gorgeous Cat Connors.

I was snapping a few shots while waiting in line at Starbucks, when I caught this one of Cat trying to blink her contact lense back into place.

Cat gets the bonus "snapped in public" points for this one.

There's not much you can learn about these little beauties. It's more about snapping indiscriminately and hoping you happen on USP gold!

Finally, be yourself! This little game is all about revealing the ugliness within! And remember, entries close Easter Sunday, so be sure to get them in.

Happy snapping!

***

A couple of notes for those who have already sent me their entries:

I know that you sent in your entry without the benefit of this post, so if you feel like you could do better for Claire's lesson, I will accept re-entries.
I forgot to mention in the last post, please send me a photo ofyour normal, gorgeous self that I can post for reference.
It turns out nothing can turn your day around like receiving horrible photo's from strangers from all around the world. Yay for me!
THANK YOU FOR ENTERING!

The first annual MLHL Ugliest Self-Portrait Competition

2010-03-28T03:40:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of the internet, and in the name of generosity*, MLHL is hosting it's first ever competition.

But before I get to the details, let me tell you a little story...

***

Claire had told me with pride of the weekend away where she'd suggested to a couple of the girls that they have a contest to see who could take the ugliest self-portrait. She told me how she'd gallantly offered to go first, of how she'd been excited for what would surely be an hilarious time of bonding, but, upon showing the girls her "ugly pic" they'd immediately raised their hands in defeat.

"You win" they'd said. "There's no way we can beat that."

Claire and I laughed as we tried to decide whether that had been a compliment or an insult, but there was no mistaking the look of remembered triumph on her face.

You can imagine my trepidation when, weeks later, she suggested another match.

There were about a dozen of us at the Auburn foodcourt after church that day, and none were afraid to take up the challenge of being the least photogenic one in attendance. But I knew that only one person presented any real competition. Claire and I were the last to add our grotesquely wall-papered camera-phones to the collection on the table, and I can still remember the gasps of awe and disgust that escaped the lips of our friends as we revealed our hideous photographs.

The group crowded around the table examined the photographs, but they only needed a moment. There was a clear winner...

Victory!

***

I promised the guys that I would go postal if the photo ever showed up on Facebook, and that was the end of that.**

Until now. I can't be reigning champion forever, and that's why it is with great pleasure that I welcome you all to the first annual MLHL Ugliest Self-Portrait Competition!

Rules of entry:

The photo must be a self-portrait.

The photo must be of your face. I don't want to check my inbox tomorrow to find it full of photographs of...appendages. I want ugly, not gross! So basically, if you wouldn't send it to your grandma, don't send it to me.

This competition is open to everyone, so international entries are more than welcome.

Oh, and a couple of guidelines for the photo itself:

No costumes or "ugly" makeup. I agree that you look grotesque in your leopard-print unitard, but the point of this contest is to tap into your natural repulsiveness, not to paint it on with the wrong shade of red lippie.

Kudos will be awarded for shots taken in public. Yes you will look like a prize eejit pulling faces at your camera-phone at the local McDonalds, but you will also be my personal hero.

Now for the exciting bit... The winner will receive this gorgeous brooch by the oh-so-talented Cat from O, The Places You Will Go. Check out her Made It store over here for more whimsical goodness.

I know it's my blog, but am I allowed to enter?

The winner will also score a signed copy of my original ugly pic, the photo that moved a thousand men to tears.

To enter, simply email your ugly pic to me at melliecotton@gmail.com. Entries close on Sunday the 4th of April, and the photos will be posted the following Tuesday. The winner will be voted for by you guys!

IMPORTANT: Now remember that once you email me your piccie, you are agreeing for it to be posted on this bloggy for all the world to see, so only enter if you are happy to withstand peoples cries of disgust.

Happy snapping!

*I won't lie. This is purely for my own entertainment.

**Until I posted it on my blog. Twice. It turns out that self-deprecation really is my thing.

The text message every 20-something dreads...

2010-03-25T21:09:00.000-07:00

quick text 2 let u know that im now on facebook. luv u. Mum.

Yesterday, my mother became one of the 400 million worldwide who call Facebook their social life. Now don't get me wrong, I love my mum dearly, but this is NOT ok. All of a sudden, she's calling me at six o'clock each evening to discuss my status updates from the day. And why do mothers insist on ending every wall post with "love, Mum"? Does this mean that mum-etiquette has to apply to social networking sites now?

I don't like it. I don't like it at all..

It's not like I post anything particularly suss, unlike my little sister, who will need to remove about fifty photos of herself doing the tongue between fingers pose. You know the one...

It's great that the message of peace is alive amongst our youth, I just don't understand why she needs to stick her tongue out.

No, it's not concern about mama stumbling over something particularly offensive that has me worried. The problem is that Facebook is the last place I have to broadcast every tedious detail of my life with everyone I've ever met. Mum doesn't need to know that I've eaten McDonalds four times this week, or that I spent the money that was supposed to be for a phone bill at the Clinique Counter at DJ's. I'm a mature, independent woman. I need my space, Ma. And now that Facebook is no longer safe, who am I going to share every tedious detail of my life with? There's no joy like expounding every boring moment of your day in carefully constructed status updates. Besides. There are few places in the world where blatant narcissism is completely acceptable, and my mum is slowly invading them all. Sorry folks, but with Facebook gone, I'm afraid this blog is about to get a whole lot of boring.

If you can't relate to anything I've said here, you might be interested to know that as of 2009 the fastest growing demo on fb is women over 55, so if your ma's not on yet, you won't have to wait for long.

Is this a good time to suggest a mass return to Myspace?

I'm a mama. UPDATE

2010-03-24T05:36:00.000-07:00

I have something to tell you. There's a big part of my life I've been waiting for the perfect moment to share, and I feel sure that this is the moment. I'm a mum ('mom' for you North Americans). But I'm not just any sort of mama. I'm a Compassion mama. I sponsor two gorgeous kiddies from developing nations through Compassion Australia's child sponsorship program. (How much do you hate me right now? I'm so mean. Tell me you weren't convinced I had a couple of kids under my belt. Mine is an evil laugh!)

It is my absolute pleasure to introduce you to my Compassion Babies.* Jerrilyn is seven years old and lives in the Philippines. She likes to read and draw, and is doing well in all her classes at school. Timothy is four, lives in Uganda and likes sport and playing games with his siblings.

One of my favourite bits about sponsoring a child, aside from the obvious, is that you get an instant pen pal. A pen pal that sends you cute little drawings you can stick on your wall. Not sure what to write to a toddler from Sierra Leone? No problem. Compassion even gives you some helpful hints for what to write in your letters to your sponsor baby. Stuff like not talking too much about material possessions (for example. "How is your family?" is an appropriate question to ask a child in a third-world country. "What's your favourite X-Box game?".... not so much.)

The money thing was never really an issue for me. I just calculated how much I spend on coffee each month. When you realise that for the amount you spend on your caffiene fix you could provide a child with all the luxuries in life like clean drinking water and an education, it simplifies the decision making process considerably.**

Meanwhile, I've sponsored two children motivated by this logic, but I haven't cut down on my coffee consumption. Those numbers just don't add up, which means that something, somewhere isn't getting paid. Rent, check. Bills, check. Credit card debt, cheeeeeeaaaaaaanyway...

Do you like a) receiving letters in the mail? b) to play a part in giving a child a future? c) the idea of motherhood without losing your waist? If you answered yes to one or more of these questions, I urge you to consider sponsoring a child. If you're in Australia, check out compassion.com.au. International readers, um... Canada has Compassion too, and so does the USA. I'm not sure what other options there are, but definitely look into whoever you decide to go with. Research is the new black.

And I wouldn't normally ask***, but feel free to retweet/repost/link to this post if you think that anyone you communicate with would be interested in being a part of giving a child a better future. I'm willing to make the sacrifice of the extra traffic. That's just how important this thing is. Do it for the children!

Sponsor a child. It will make you more attractive to the opposite sex.

Oh, and if you do sponsor a child, why not introduce your sponsor baby in the comments section!

*I was going to post a photo of me with the photo's of my Compassion Babies, but I seem to have misplaced them. I'm a bad Compassion Mama. Who the heck loses their kids? And I really wanted to show you how much of a gangster Timothy is in the photo they sent me, with his baggy jeans and non chalant pose.

** I know this is the original child sponsorship cliche, but it's honest to blog what made me decide I could fit this into my budget each time. My daily skinny vanilla latte is good, but so is sponsoring a child.

*** Because I am so not into self-promotion. I don't check at least 15 times a day to see if I have any new comments, and I'm never tempted to let the whole of Facebook know every time I get a new follower.

UPDATE: I added a video. This never fails to move me:

Mush

2010-03-22T04:21:00.000-07:00

This week I'm bogged down with work, study and all the other pies I've gone and stuck my fingers into, so now my brain is turned to mush. That's right, pies turned my brain to mush. Who else can blog that and make a jot of sense?*

That's why all you're getting from me today is a bunch of links to blogs that are far better than mine, and a bad iPhone pic of me with a funny caption, because I know how much you love those...

What? Cookies?! COOOOOOOOOKIIIIIIIIEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!

*"Silly rabbit actually thinks she's making sense! The poor dear really must be tired. We'll excuse her just this once and leave her lots of lovely comments even though she doesn't deserve them."

Mel the introvert navigates scary social encounter. Survives.

2010-03-20T02:00:00.000-07:00

Following on from my last post; I survived! In fact, the day ended up being a whole lot of fun. Just as I'd hoped, there were enough friends present that I could spend most of the day talking to people I know, while still looking relatively social (and not like the girl who only talks to people she knows).

I caught the bouquet, which I'm told means I'll be the next to marry. So lads, you can send your credentials, with photos, to single_and_desperate@gmail.com.

I made it through the day relatively unscathed, aside from a couple of footwear related injuries (navigating a conga line in five inch heels = not recommended). Three (count them: three) matchmaking girlfriends tried to set me up with three different guys throughout the course of the night. One of them, after introducing us, proceeded to stand eight feet away and do the love heart hands at us for the duration of what could have potentially been the most awkward conversation of my life (Nice one, Jodie. Real subtle). Fortunately for me the guy had a sense of humour about the whole thing.

Unfortunately for him, I'd already found my kindred spirit....

______________

Congratulations, Tom and Sonya! I wish you insane amounts of happiness in your future together as husband and wife. xxoo

The plight of every introvert - the wedding

2010-03-18T04:05:00.000-07:00

No, not mine. Everyone elses.

It seems 2010 is the year of the wedding. I'm a bridesmaid at one. Others I will only attend.

For a social maladjust like me, it's proving to be exhausting. I never learned the fine art of small talk. I adore D&M's. Hours spent in cosy cafe's digging into each others minds; half-forgotten fears and whispered hopes smilingly confessed to hot chocolates and one another. Only one other, mind. Three's a crowd as far as I'm concerned.

At social gatherings, where everyone else seems to know the lines, I'm the one you see sitting alone, lost in thought (if I can get away with it). Or else awkwardly attempting to melt into the outskirts of a circle of my peers, nodding in feined enthusiasm as the results of the latest season of Australian Idol are passionately analysed and lamented. I do a really good listening face. I nod and make little "mhm" sounds. I play the part in my own way, I guess.

Last weekend it was kitchen tea, hens night and a baby shower. This weekend it's the big day for one friend, and my house mates bridal party luncheon. Wish me luck. Wish me a kindred spirit I can get lost in deep conversation with for the duration of the night.

Noise, part 2

2010-03-16T22:52:00.000-07:00

I've been watching the TV show Bored to Death. In it, Jason Schwartzman's character, in the midst of a quarter-life crisis, reads too many Raymond Chandler novels and decides to become a Private Dick.

______________

I'm far too realistic to get carried away like that. But some days I wish I wasn't. Some days I dream in reckless terms. Recklessness can be dangerously alluring; the idea of dropping everything and going off on some wild, thoughtless whim. On my most flighty days, the pull is almost irresistible, as if there's a piece of cord attached behind my navel, drawing me forward. Like a ship with the wind behind its sails, it seems to take more effort on these days to stay in one place, then it would to give in to dangerous urges. Recklessness can be alluring, and the worst part is the reason I don't give in.

I'm responsible to a fault. The pull is at times almost irresistible, but I resist anyway. I have a lot of reckless thoughts about people, my job and the cute boys on the inner west line, but they will remain thoughts.

______________

I wonder what it would be like to start over completely? I keep such a firm hold on the twisting castle of a life I've built for myself, as if it were all really worth holding on to. As if it were worth the individual bricks that make it up (the individual bricks that make the rubble worth the rebuild). I stand with my back to holes in walls. Neglected rooms, half decorated and then abandoned for the next big design concept. I hope no one will notice. I plant my feet firmly and dare to ponder the extent of the repairs and redesigns required to make this place liveable.

______________

My imagined resignation speech contains the line "if you want me here you can pay me to blog and google stuff for 38 hours a week." (I'm adorably sassy in my head). If you're getting the impression that I never fully came to peace with the responsibilities that come with adulthood, you would be correct in that assumption.

My quotable friends

2010-03-15T16:46:00.000-07:00

My brain isn't working today. At least not enough to do a real blog post. In fact, I'm probably only up to posting one of three things..

1. I can talk about the dream I had last night.
2. You can hear me complain about the insane PMS I had yesterday.
3. I can do a round-up of the quotes of the day I've tweeted in the last year.

And since my dream looked exactly like my real life only during sleep time (I bought a new lipgloss), and no one wants to hear me overshare about my icky girl time (it's gross, trust me), I think perhaps we should go with the quotes.

So...these are all things said by workmates, housemates and best mates. It turns out everyone I know is hilarious. Sometimes intentionally, mostly not.

Oh, and if you want, you can follow me on Twitter over here. I've been told I'm at my wittiest in 140 characters or less.

______________

Mel: (said jokingly) "I'd be great inspiration for a poem."

Friend: (replied seriously) "What? Really?"

______________

"Mel, you're funny. But not in the good way. Like, when you're around everyone makes jokes."

______________

Housemate 1: "When you're in Canberra you can go to the mint factory. You know? Where they make the money."

Housemate 2: "You mean the mint?"

______________

"Hugging is good, clean fun."

______________

Responses I received to my new haircut:

"You look like Dora the Explorer."

"You look anime."

"You look like a little girl."

"Ahahaha! It's Velma from Scooby Doo!"

"You got the same haircut as your little sister?" (I didn't, by the way.)

"You look like that chick from the C3 band."
"Oh? Cool. She's hot."
"No, not that one. The other one."

"So... you... like your new haircut?"

______________

"The iTampon jokes are flowing." (Unintentional pun while discussing the stir the Apple iPad created in the Twitterverse)

______________

"So cynical. Love it." (Said to me by a total stranger who overheard a comment I made)

______________

"Well if she's so great, then why's she dead?"

______________

"Hey that's cool. Mel's talking and I'm not listening." (That was said my a member of a study group I was leading.)

______________

"You know that movie, 'The Hatchback of Notre Dame'?" (I can't remember who said this. One of my housemates, I think. The memory of that conversation never fails to make me laugh though.)

______________

"Girls are less valuable than boys. I think like China." (Believe it or not, this was one of my girlfriends. We were discussing whether we wanted sons or daughters when we had kids. She couldn't have made her preferences any clearer).

______________

Me: "I finally got the Nick Cave novel."

Friend: "And the Angel saw an Arse?"

______________

"Sierra Leone. Thought it was a girl, not a country. But whatever." (If memory serves me, this was said by a member of my team at a trivia night. Believe it or not, we won).

______________

"Old Comments McTactless. She sure does like to say things." (I don't think I can say who that was about).

______________

"You were disgusting. You were like a big, pussing love-wound." (Said to a friend who was reflecting on a past relationship).

______________

Friend 1: "I've got a feeling I'm going to have chaff tomorrow." Friend 2: "Why? What's wrong with your insides."

______________

"Oh, I like KFC. It's a bit drippy, but, y'know,"

______________

"This man talks too much." (Said by one of my youth girls about a preacher, mid sermon)

______________

"Maybe we're just better than everyone else..." (Said by a friend of mine, without a hint of irony)

______________

Friend 1: "What's on now?"

Friend 2: "Multi-sports."

Friend 1: "Gross!"

______________

(Discussing the correct way to perform CPR) "I've watched ER. George Clooney never did the mouth thing. He just did the compressions."

______________

Said completely seriously. To me..: "Dude, what's the deal with your face today?"

______________

Once again, said in all seriousness: "What's Krispy Kreme? Is it cream that's been fried?"

______________

Friend: "Jesus is my boyfriend."

Me: "Jesus is my boyfriend too."

Friend: "Yeah? Well he's cheating on you."
(Ouch! That one hurt.)
_____________

And finally..
Housemate: (cleaning out the kitchen cupboards) "There's enough honey here to kill a bear."

Everything I know about being a secret admirer.

2010-03-14T03:22:00.000-07:00

My relationship with Google Analytics is shaky at best, as you know. It's caused me a lot of trauma over the years (mostly just that one time), but it's also provided me with a lot of useful information. For example, I recently learned that my blog has received a total of two hits from Google searches. "Dappled Cities" and "Secret admirers lesson".

In the interest of giving the people what they want, I would like to blog on these topics today. "What could possibly qualify Mel to give a lesson on secret admirers?" I hear you ask. Well it just so happens that I spend a total of 37 minutes each day secretly admiring the cute boys on the Inner West Line during my commute to and from work.

Now, in the spirit of generosity, I present to you: Everything I have ever learned about being a secret admirer, with completely unrelated pictures of Dappled Cities.

Don't ever say I don't treat you well...

Know your target - In my experience, all of the cutest and most stylish boys in Sydney ride the Inner West line. Most of them depart at Newtown. Don't ask me how I know that. I just do. Because I keep meticulous records on the subject. With photographs. I suggest you do the same.

Never, NEVER initiate anything - The best way to woo the cute boys on the Inner West line is to stand quietly against the hand-rail and avoid eye-contact. If a cute boy does try to meet your eye, simply duck your head and focus intently on the game of sudoku you're playing on your iPhone. Remember, he's not going to buy the cow if he can get the eye-contact for free.

Have a plan - If you should happen to see the cute boy of your dreams somewhere between Ashfield and Summer Hill stations, it's important that you have a plan. Even if you never get to use your plan, it's important that you have the details figured out clearly in your mind. My plans are as follows. Either:

1. Depart from the train at the same station as cute boy of dreams. Follow cute boy home. Get married and live happily ever after.

2. Accidentally leave laptop on train so that cute boy chases after me to return it. Cute boy will instantly be taken with me. Fall in love, get married and live happily ever after.

I'll figure out the details on the day.

Be prepared - It is important that you have all of the proper equipment in order to secretly admire well.

Equipment checklist:

1. Camera phone for stealth photographing cute boys.

This rule goes for any location, not just the Inner West line. Stealth photographing is a risky business but can prove to be well worth it. For example, I was recently at a gig with Cat when we spotted two cute boys standing in the foyer. We stealth photographed them, and they turned out to be none other than Jack Ladder and his accompaniment. Secret admirer success!

This is not Dappled Cities. It is, we later learned, Jack Ladder.

So there you have it, my personal guide to being a secret admirer. Stick to my advice and you can't go wrong. These simple rules are guaranteed to work for you, as I expect they will someday work for me.

Next week: Mel ponders possible reasons for her inexplicable singleness.

The Indie Oz Music Roundup

2010-03-11T18:39:00.000-08:00

Ever since this small town girl made the move to the big city, I've become a bit of a live music fiend, living my dream of being the type of person who spends all of her grocery money on tickets to see her favourite bands, just like a real, live 20-something.

I generally have two rules when it comes to music; 1. Don't spend over $30 on tickets, and 2. Support local acts. These two rules have lead to lots of aural adventures and the discovery of some musical gems. Here are a couple of my favourites..

Washington - A group of us went to see Meg Washington at The Vanguard in Newtown the other night. On arrival we were each given a lion mask, and Cat and I proceeded to pull out our phones and embark on a 20-minute long self-photoshoot, which ended when Cat's brother leaned over and told her that she looked like queen of the dicks. Not nice, Chucky!

Meg is one of my favourite voices in Oz music at the moment. Her background is in Jazz and her rich, compelling vocals are something else. Live, she's everything I love in a muso; a petite, elfish jazz singer who drinks and swears like a sailor. This is the clip to her single, How to Tame Lions.

Dappled Cities - I first heard these guys on Triple J's Like a Version, where they covered Animal Collective's "My Girls", a cover I highly recommend you look up. Glam rock in a similar vein to The Killers, I got to see them live on Australia Day at The Rocks and despite the fact that we were surrounded on all sides by screaming, fourteen year old girls, it was a goosebump-inducing set. Their performance of The Price was one of the highlights of that month.

Bertie Blackman - Dark, edgy, intriguing electro/indie/rock. If the Aus music scene is The Breakfast Club, Bertie is the Allison of the group. Or perhaps Bender. Or... I don't know. It was a sucky metaphor to begin with. Listen if you need to feel like you can kick the world's butt with sheer cynicism.

Hot Little Hands - My favourite part of going to a gig is always the support act. It's like a nice little bonus you weren't expecting (unless you read your ticket, which I never do), and it's my favourite way if discovering new acts. Hot Little Hands were supporting Clare Bowditch the first time I saw her live, and they've been a favourite ever since. Go to their Myspace and listen to Dynamite in Black and White. You'll thank me.

Andy Bull - A friend of mine was raving about Andy after seeing him at the Hopetoun (RIP), and dragged me along to one of his gigs. He bears a striking resemblance to Noel Fielding and opened his set with a Shins cover. Needless to say, I fell instantly in love. One of the most interesting acts to show up on the Sydney music scene in a while, it's piano-driven, indie-pop at it's finest.

Clare Bowditch - Where to start? Clare's music is where I go after a long day, when I'm anxious about the future or when I'm feeling uninspired and unimaginative; it's home. A master story-teller, Clare has a unique ability to transport you into the lives of the characters who inhabit her songs. She's also my absolute favourite act to see live and if you ever get the chance, I highly recommend you get to one of her gigs. Here's the clip to one of my favourites; I Thought You Were God.

Aluka - Sweet, catchy, rhythmic, a'capella pop. I first saw these ladies singing background vocals for Clare Bowditch. I looked them up on myspace and have been hooked ever since. I've never heard anything that's as easy to listen to as this darling Melbourne trio.

The original underdog

2010-03-10T17:16:00.000-08:00

I write articles for teenage girls for a publication my work puts out. They're general, life advice sort of things, all about living the best you can, and navigating lifes obstacles. I'm enjoying myself and people are reading them, which is nice. What's more, my editor told me the other day that I have a following. A following! Needless to say, that little tidbit went straight to my head.

The thing is... I'm not particularly good at navigating life's obstacles. I tend more towards stumbling into them, crying for a bit and then blogging my injuries. In fact, in some ways I'm probably the last person in the world who should be giving advice to anyone...

I wasn't good at being a teenager. I was awkward and and I had no idea how to relate to my peers. Not in a John Highes way either. I wasn't indie-cool or especially original, just weird.

I'm not good at being a girl. The infrequency of my eyebrow waxes and the fact that I'm constantly caught without tampons in my handbag attest to this. I'm also pathetically inept at relating to the opposite sex for someone in her 20's.

I'm not good at romance. The closest I've come to a relationship in the past year is using my camera-phone to stealth photograph the cute boys on the inner-west line.

I'm not sure I'm even that good at being a person. I mean, I'm not particularly bad at it, but am I really the sort you want telling your teenage girls how to live?

"Look at me. I'm Joan Holloway!"

I've thought about this quite a bit recently. What could I have to offer these girls? I'm no guru or role model. I'm just an average joe, struggling to get through life without making a complete and utter mess of things.

And then I think, perhaps that's what I have to offer. Perhaps that's the reason I'm uniquely qualified for this role..

because sometimes it feels like my achievements are not because of, but in spite of who I am.

Because I'm in no way immune to fear, uncertainly or self-doubt.

Because nothing comes naturally to me, but that won't stop me from diving in head first.

Because I'm a completely ordinary girl who will keep on struggling to do (be) something extraordinary.

Because I am the original underdog.

Lesson learnt: think, then post.

2010-03-09T17:05:00.000-08:00

I wanted to express my sincere apologies for yesterdays post. I was in a weird mood and I didn't mean to blast it all over you guys.

I'm really, really sorry. Let me make it up to you with Port Wine Jelly.

I know that the last thing anyone needs first thing on a Monday morning is to go on some random girls blog only to have her get all up in their business with her angsty rants.

Nobody likes a rant post.

To make it up to you, I'm going to post the self-portrait that won me the "who can take the ugliest photo of themselves on their camera phone" contest we had at Auburn Central food court a few months ago....

Needless to say, not many people get to see the ugly pic, but I feel as though I owe you this much. It's my gift to you. I hope we can still be friends.

Just a quick update: I'm flat out with work a the moment, and I had eight solid hours of lectures at school yesterday, which all up have turned my brain to mush.

I'll do a real post tomorrow. I plan to drink 5 red bulls and put my flaws joyously on display in a celebration of my own fallibility.

Until then..

So that there can be no confusion..

2010-03-07T23:47:00.000-08:00

Also, there's something we all need to have the sincerity to say out loud, and stop being so self-righteous, ok?

Now repeat after me:

"I have it tougher than anyone else, and every mishap that befalls me is purposely orchestrated by the world to stop me from fulfilling my potential." Feel better? Probably not. But don't worry, my love. With every setback we ~~overcome~~ endure, we become stronger and wiser. And one day we'll show them, just you wait.

In case your not getting my point. THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE REVOLVES AROUND ME AND MY PROBLEMS!

Oh, stop shouting! If you're mad it's probably because 1. your irony sensors aren't functioning at full capacity today, and, 2. you know you think that way, just like the rest of us, and the self-awareness is making you uncomfortable.

I'm not trying to be mean, you know. This post is directed mostly at me anyway, so please don't be mad.* I know full well that God is the centre of the universe, and there's a whole world of people out there who are too busy with their own problems to even care about mine.

What I mean to say is, I have this awful habit of seeing the entire world through the filter of self. A lot of the time, I really, truly believe that the world is all about me. Case in point, these are some things that have come out of my mouth in the last, relatively uneventful, week:

"My life is over. I'm going to die" (Can't remember what that was about.)

"The entire world is against me."

"I'm going to kill someone if it doesn't stop raining soon." (context: this was right after I cut my blunt fringe, to which moisture equals a speedy, frizzy death)

And isn't that what this blog is about? How every person and the entire world around me is all about knocking me about?

In conclusion, let's all hope that self awareness leads to change.

I need to stop blogging now.

*Because you know how down it gets me when you're mad at me. Please love me? Please?

Mel learns about the blogosphere

2010-03-06T06:41:00.002-08:00

Signing up for Google Analytics is possibly the biggest mistake I've made today. Sure it's useful...

This nifty little gadget tells me that I've had two visitors, and am located in Australia.

But what I've really learned here is that two people have visited my blog in the past 20 minutes and neither have commented OR subscribed.

Why? What am I doing wrong? WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME????!!!!!

Is it my profile pic? My header? The wild inconsistency of my blogging style?

I'm beginning to wonder if the blogosphere is safe for a professing people pleaser such as myself.

Welcome to the blogosphere, please check your feelings at the door.
Well aside from the occasional emotional meltdown, my first week and a bit has been a joy. Everyone's been lovely and welcoming and I've had an absolute blast showing myself around and getting to know the place. And having a blog with the intention that it be read has been an educational experience. Which is why I've put together my three things I've learned about the blogosphere in the last 10 days.

1. If your self-esteem hinges on how many comments you get, you will end up with a complex.
I was absolutely bowled over by the responses to my blog from almost the first post. Every time I logged on, it seemed, some lovely person had left me a little response to my ramblings. These comments were totally unexpected so early in my blogs life, and I won't lie, I became dependent on them fairly quickly. Most of my readers are in the USA, and the time difference meant that most comments came in while I was sound asleep. I quickly developed a habit of rolling over to turn my iPhone's alarm off, and going straight to my blog to check the comments. What a nice self-esteem hit first thing in the morning.

This was all going really well until I woke up one morning following a post, only to find... nothing.

Nothing.

"That's ok," I thought to myself, "it's still early. Something will come through. Just relax."

I proceeded to check my blog every 15 minutes for the rest of the morning, my spirits becoming progressively lower.

At 10:00am I was considering emailing my readers to check whether they had seen my post.

By 11, I'd eaten my weight in chocolate.

It wasn't until 3 that afternoon that I realised I'd accidentally scheduled my post to upload the following Wednesday.

My point is, I'm emotionally unstable.

Let's move on.

2. You've got to self-promote, even though self-promotions is icky. There's no getting around it. I was blogging over at my old place for years, and I had some serious quality content. But no one knew because I wasn't willing to tweet my posts and risk looking like a desperado.

But now I've wised up. A girl can only tell herself so many times that she's awesome and the world is just too stupid to notice. Now I add my blog URL to the bottom of emails, get into the blogging community like crazy, and I've even considered doing as Lauren the Hipstercrite suggests and posting a pic of my butt..

But it turns out photegraphing your own backside
is harder than it looks.

and oh, look. Traffic. Two of them, in fact. BAM!

And sure, self-promotion still feels a little gross, but it turns out I'm willing to make the sacrifice.

3. The more you blog, the less you'll have to blog about.

I have a little confession to make. When I first started this blog, I went a little blog crazy. I was a blogoholic and I wasn't willing to admit I had a problem.

Keep in mind, this is only my second week.

My blog became my primary focus. I read blogs, commented on blogs, blogged and checked for comments on my blog and not much else. Many will fail to see the problem. It's my launch week. Of course I'm giving it my all. And besides, the blogosphere is a rich, diverse place, full of interesting characters and quality content.

But you see, my blog had taken over my life. And when your blog is all about your life experiences, and you no longer have a life, you've got yourself a problem.

Lesson learned: do stuff.

Welcome to the blogosphere, Mel. Strap your self in. It's set to be a bumpy ride.

Mel's frankenstein dream blog or: a blog roundup with a difference.

2010-03-04T21:16:00.002-08:00

Ok, so you know that game where you sit around and dream up your perfect man? And in theory, he seems like he has all the ingredients for the man of your dreams? But if you could see your dreams realised, the results would be a little disturbing..

The kind of disturbing that makes it necessary to move back in with your parents...

Well, it turns out some of us didn't learn from Stephenie Meyer's mistake. Some of us had dreams we weren't afraid to put out there. One such dream isn't for the perfect man. Oh no. My visions are far loftier than that.

Taking inspiration from some of the coolest blogs on the web, I've created... duh duh duh dum.... Mel's frankenstein dream blog (FDB).

Street cred - Hipstercrite

In my perfect blog, I would be the coolest kid in town. No one would be cooler than me. And we all know that no one is cooler than Lauren the Hipstercrite.

Important stuff - The unbearable lightness of being hungry

My FDB would be filled with really important stuff, like food. It would tell you about the food, and tell you where to get it. In fact, by FDB would be the best Sydney food blog on the internet. It would have witty reviews of all the most lovely eateries in Sydney. That's why my FDB would be, in part, The unbearable lightness of being hungry.

Other important stuff - The Streethearts

My FDB would also have beautiful Europeans. It turns out all of the most stylish people are from Oslo, and my blog needs to be filled with them, a little like The Streethearts.

Header - My soul is a butterfly

I'm forever in awe of the poetry and beauty of Hannah Miet's blog, and her header mirrors her blog perfectly. My FDB might not be as poetic as hers, but who doesn't want a header that makes people stop for a moment before reading on? And what girl doesn't want an artist friend to commit their gorgeous self to canvas. In a perfect world, that would be my header.

Commenters - Hyperbole and a half

I don't know if you've ever noticed, but one particular blogger has a bizarre ability to bring out the smart/witty/hilarious in everyone who leaves a comment, so that the comments section is almost as entertaining as the actual blog, which is no small feat. No one likes a selfish blogger, and in my FDB, my humour, like Allie's, would be so contageous it would spread into the comments section, making it straight-up hilarious all on it's own.

Fabulousness (which I just dictionary.com'd. It is a word) - O, the places you will go

My blog would have buckets of fabulousness. It would be so fabulous it would give you a nose-bleed. It would be about as marvelously stylish as a blog can be, just like Cat's.

Best blog name ever - Austin Eavesdropper

My frankenstein dream blog would have the Best. Name. Ever. A name that, every time you heard it, would make you stop and go "Wow. That's, like, a really good name for a blog."

That's why my blog name would be Austin Eavesdropper. A name that makes me desparately want to get into the world of whatever the blogger's blogging (in this case, Austin, Texas).

Of course, these names would only make sense if I lived in Austin, which would be very cool. So in my perfect frankenstein-blog world, I'm Texan.

Plenty of Heart - My Rara

My Frankenstein Dream Blog would have scads of heart. My blog would be delivered with as much humility, earnestness, openness and guts as Heidi delivers her picture poems over at her Rara.

And of course, the whole thing would be in Twitter format, because, as a true gen Y-er, I'm practically incapable of concentrating for longer that 140 characters.

In summary, my perfect blog would be an aesthetically alluring, Sydney-based, Norway-focussed food/fashion blog with plenty of heart, sass, and style, named after the capital of Texas and delivered entirely in tweets.

Dare to dream much?

If you have anything you think I should add to my FDB (a profile pic perhaps, or a perfect "about me"? Those things are so hard to write!), let me know in the comments section. This monster is a work in progress.

P.S. I didn't put any pics of people's blogs because I'm not sure of the whole legal/copyright deal yet, and I'm still the new kid on the block, so I don't want to be all stepping on everyone's toes in my second week.

MLHL is one week old today!

2010-03-03T18:01:00.000-08:00

Well it's been a long and tumultuous journey, but I am proud to announce that MLHL is one week old today! One week, five posts, ten comments (thank you!) and a small but significant leap into a wonderful and inspiring blogging community.

Even within the last week, this blog has become something important and precious to me; not only a space for self-revelation, but a place for me to experiment with putting words together, and to stretch my small writing gift. The rush of exploring my own voice is so exciting. It's also a little frightening at times, when I feel as though I've found a rhythm, only to have eloquence, and even coherency slip from my grasp as the different sides of me wrestle to have their turn at the keyboard.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm afraid this space might become a little bit of a mess in the next couple of week as I find my feet, so please be patient.

__________________________________________

And now, it's time for some lovin'.

On the day that I launched my little piece of blogginess, beautiful Cat, my partner in the battle against workplace boredom, gave me the most lovely and flattering shout out from her blog, O, the places you will go.

Other things I would like to thank Cat for, while we're here:

1. Spending 15 minutes conversing with me in Spaghatta Nadle-speak yesterday because I was bored.

2. Enabling my inner lazy blogger when I can't be bothered uploading photos myself.

Cat is about as fabulous as she paints me in her post, and I strongly suggest you visit her little corner of the blogosphere, where she plays a small but vital role in the war against negativity.

Unabashedly female (stereotypes)

2010-03-02T19:26:00.000-08:00

Today I was devastated by some awful news. There's no need to go into messy details that might make me look bad, but suffice it to say I did something silly and, it turns out, was not above the consequences.

Anyway, as I sat at my desk in a state of complete shock, my first and second responses were to 1. eat half a packet of Tim Tams (Don't judge me! I'm having a really bad day.) and, 2. start planning a shopping trip to buy something completely unnecessary, like a sequined clutch or a pair of heels too high to walk in.

One day I'll learn how to cope with stress in a mature, resonsible way, and then I'll be a grown up. Until that day...

Authors note: I'm a little embarrassed, both that this happened, and that I'm blogging about it, but this is a true story, which makes it bloggable according to the rules of MLHL.

Noise, part 1

2010-02-28T02:46:00.000-08:00

At the moment, I'm reading The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon.

It's a book all about escape. Escape from circumstance, escape from limitations, from yourself.

It reminds me of how much, at times, I want to give my own life the slip. Of how the desire to reinvent oneself can be almost overwhelming. I want to discard my social surroundings like I sometimes discard a tupperware container full of the mouldy remnants of last weeks lunch. I can't deal with the consequences of my actions. Not because they overwhelm me, but simply because I can't be bothered. Anyway, life's too short for washing up.

I want to shed the impression of myself I have built in other peoples minds through a thousand interactions. The box I've comstructed around me isn't easily dismantled and rebuilt. And in the reconstruction process, when I'm not properly contained, I run the risk of slopping parts of me over edges.

Train couple

2010-02-26T18:51:00.000-08:00

I didn't see her face. She had her back to me. He was perhaps a head and a half taller than her, his posture permanently hunched so he could peer into her eyes, and whisper his half of their conversation into her ear.

His face was young and idealistic. He looked like the kind of person who is baffled by unjustified rudeness. I felt safe staring, invisible, because he only saw her.

I wished I could have been standing close enough to overhear their conversation, but there was always a chance the words I heard would shatter the illusion their appearance had created in my mind.

Love is alive and well in Sydney, I choose to believe.

secret admirer

2010-02-25T15:19:00.000-08:00

This year I got a valentines day card from a secret admirer. After deciphering the nearly illegible text, I'm about 100% sure it's not for real. Best case scenario, it's a hilarious joke. Worst case, we've got ourselves some crazy stalker action, which will in turn make for some delightful and drama-filled blog posts.

I didn't receive it until a week late. I found it in my pigeon hole at Church. The writing is barely legible, but this is what it says:

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion,
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

At first I was totally impressed with whichever of the boys was responsible. They're clearly funnier than I first thought. However, upon closer Googling, I learned that this is in fact a poem called Valentine by poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy.

Oh who am I kidding? I'm practically drowning in flattered. Someone plagiarised obscure scottish poetry in a sappy card for me, and signed it "your secret admirer." What more could a girl want?

Belated valentines love.

Mel.

Welcome home

2010-02-24T18:10:00.000-08:00

(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.

Mel Learns Her Lessons

hiatus

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

The back-up plan (part 3)

The back-up plan (part 2)

The back-up plan (part 1)

Welcome home... again.

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

My conversations should come with a 24 hour cooling-off period

*That* post...

Bloggerstock: What is your theme song?

Time to smile: the MLHL rainy day action plan

Rie Learns Her Lessons

Titles I bear in 2010.

The situation

Love in action; a follow-up to "I'm a BAD mama".

I'm a BAD mama

Bloggerstock: the internet ate my...

Well colour me narcissistic.

Time for some lovin'

Book trivia fun :)

Morning Person

Mel the tour guide

Guest Post: The Best Part of Blogging

Oversharing is caring Pt. 1

The specs factor* UPDATED

And the winner is...

VOTING TIME: Who's the ugliest?

Sorry Mum!

Put me in a box

The art and science of taking a truly ugly self-portrait, with special guests, Cat and Claire

The first annual MLHL Ugliest Self-Portrait Competition

The text message every 20-something dreads...

I'm a mama. UPDATE

Mush

Mel the introvert navigates scary social encounter. Survives.

The plight of every introvert - the wedding

Noise, part 2

My quotable friends

Everything I know about being a secret admirer.

The Indie Oz Music Roundup

The original underdog

Lesson learnt: think, then post.

So that there can be no confusion..

Mel learns about the blogosphere

Mel's frankenstein dream blog or: a blog roundup with a difference.

MLHL is one week old today!

Unabashedly female (stereotypes)

Noise, part 1

Train couple

secret admirer

Welcome home

That post...