… being spontaneous
… smiling
… and laughing
… being damn good at what I do
… my time
… my friends
… the sunshine
… being outdoors
… caring about people important to me
… everything right now
I love being a happy person. It’s almost like I had smoked something.
(No, I didn’t)
I do not deny I am good at making excuses. Check out these excuses I made over the last few days:
I told you I was good at making excuses.
One of the conversations we had whilst sitting by the creek drinking champagne (our luxurious version of camping), was about cheating partners. Specifically, if they had cheated, should the “innocent” partner be told?
One argued that if you were the one who fucked up, you should be the one who carry your own guilt. This means to deny everything, no matter how incriminating the photos, no matter how much of a best mate it was who told your partner. Deny everything, and leave your partner with a little bit of dignity. There is no point hurting your partner especially if that relationship was heading down the drain.
Another argued that your innocent partner should know. They have the right to honesty, and you shouldn’t get away with it if you fucked up.
It led me to wonder, did I want to know when those exes cheated on me? If they didn’t tell me, I would have always wondered, and I would have kept on made excuses for them. If they didn’t tell me, I would have continued to think them great men, and at the same time I would have been the fool who didn’t know who they were. If they didn’t tell me, maybe I would not have those dejected months.
And when they did tell me, I was hurt and heart broken, but that healed. Okay, so I admit, I now have trust issues that I may not have had if it was not because I knew they cheated on me, but does that not heal in time also? (I am hopeful) When they did tell me, I stopped thinking they were great men - instead, the great men I once knew died, and in front of me were men I never knew. When they told me, at least I learnt my lesson. And I stopped making excuses for them, and then we move on.
I still can’t seem to make up my mind whether it’s better to know, or not to know. Let’s hope I don’t have to come up with an answer soon.
Camping is…
… a ten hour drive to get there, and ten hours to get back…
… building my first ever tent…
… waking up very late, and to birds tweeting…
… shielded away from newspapers, radios, cellular coverage, emails…
… no kayaking as water levels were low, so we went tubing down the river…
… scratches, bumps and bruises over my arms and legs from the rocks in the river…
… playing multiple games of tennis cum cricket cum volleyball cum frisbee cum soccer…
… body boarding across the flooded marsh after heavy rain…
… making new friends around the camp fire…
… of course, roasted marshmallows…
… eating wonderfully cooked lamb roast, roast potatoes, beautifully flavored steaks by professional campers…
… hanging out with a bunch of people whom just wanted to have fun..
… drinking pink champagne by the creek for six hours…
… feeling very dirty having played in the mud…
… feeling very clean after sitting in the river for what felt like ages…
… getting sun-lazy and slept in a camping chair under the sun…
… feeling sad packing up as realizing that this was coming to an end…
Camping over Australia Day long weekend was just a whole lot of fun.
I have never been a huge fan of kids - I could work with them, especially socially disadvantaged ones, but as you may be aware - I have a dislike for spoilt young brats.
The airlines should have a new seating system, sealing off a section just for kids and parents - that way, they can scream and shout all they like and would not cause discomfort for the passengers on the rest of the airplane. I mean, why should three kids cause pain and suffering to a full plane (this full small flight had about 100 or so passengers) , of which had made no mistake of bringing on board uncontrollable kids?
Which brings me to another point, why is it that parents think that they are so special just because they have kids? Don’t get me wrong, I take my hat off to parents - for their unconditional love, for their dedication, selflessness in giving to their offspring. But compared to the rest of the world - we’re all equals. Just because you’ve got a screaming, undisciplined five year old on board does not make you anymore special - and it certainly does not give you the right to annoy the hell out of the rest of the plane and get away with it. If you know you’ve got an uncontrollable kid, don’t bring them on board.
Aside from the new seating system, I also propose that the cabin crew give the kids a present only when they deserve them - and if they have been screaming, shouting, and annoying little brats they certainly do not deserve them. It’s Pavlov’s conditioning theory - if I know it I certainly expect the billion dollar airline industry to know it too.
And since we’re on the topic of pressies - come on, let’s give the kiddies a practical pressie. Here I propose ear muffs, so that the pressure does not make the babies uncomfortable and hence them screaming their lungs out. Another pressie could also be a mask, or a bubble that they can put over their heads so that their screams and annoying little screetches would be muffled. No more wasteful pressies of which parents would just chuck away once out of the plane door. Both parents and passengers would be happy with the practicality of these pressies, I think.
Enough whingeing for a post in January. Photos and others from Tasmania coming up soon (yes, yes watch this space, I see readership has dropped off). Hope everyone has been well.
So I am heading over to Tassie for a short break. It’s funny how people follow up that piece of information with “who are you going with?” and when I tell them just myself, there’s a pause - like they are not quite sure how to react.
There is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely. Being alone is more enjoyable than being with someone and feeling lonely. What is it with the theme that people should always be with someone, should always do things with someone? Shouldn’t you only have company when you want it rather than because people expect you to?
But that’s just like everything else I suppose - you should only do something because you want to, not because someone expects you to, or because you feel like you’re obliged. And when better to do it for yourself than now?
{Been a little busy with a crazy work out schedule (everyday) as a result of this rowing thing… blogging activities should be back to normal when I’m back from Tassie}
Resolution [res·o·lu·tion] ["re-z&-'lu-sh&n ]
Well, here comes the cliche Resolutions segment.
In 2006 I managed to:
In 2007 I am targeting for:
Things I’d like to say that I am targeting for, but just know it ain’t true:
Your author exits this segment with some NYE photos - these were taken at Macquarie’s Chair at The Botanical Gardens in Sydney. Yours truly conveniently left her camera tripod fastener at home, and therefore had to be resourceful (read: change settings, point, click and hope for the best). Have to put a shout out to my matey SN (whose family adopted me for the night) who got us the best seat in the house - You’re the best, I had an awesome time, thanks!!
Click on the slide below to access the photos.
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HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
May 2007 brings us all peace, happiness and fulfillment.
