Have been thinking about my previous post for the past couple of days, not least because the whales are back at work. Although, I am quite blind without glasses and everyone else was screaming "Can you see it, can you see it? It's just there, THERE, in between that little wave and the other wave. SEE, JUST THERE!!!!"
Unfortunately none of that helped me see it.
Neither did the pointing.
The only thing that did was when the whale actually raised its flipper right out of the water and waved directly at me. At least I thinking it was waving at me... perhaps it was giving me the finger.
Anyway, sorry tangent over. So apart from the whales, I was thinking about the last post because I was wondering whether it actually has anything to do with the point of my blog (point being to document the move from someone who has always talked about making things and having a shop, to someone who actually does make things and have a shop). I've never written a blog before so I'm not sure if it is better to keep the focus quite tight on a single topic, or if it's ok to meander along and follow the tangents where they lead?
I feel like I should be strict with myself and keep it on topic, but I guess every experience that I have over the next two years, whether it's drafting a business plan (which I have started thanks to The Australian Government's principle business resource), or getting the bird from one of Earth's largest mammals, is going to contribute towards achieving my dream.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Big W
Ever since I can remember, I have been obsessed with looking for signs of life in the ocean. This could have been kicked off by watching Jaws at too young an age and having images of that stiff, jerky, mechanical yet utterly terrifying eating machine gnawing its way through human bait burnt into my memory forever and ever. I'm completely with Roy Scheider on this one... it is always important to keep vigilant, so whether I'm on land, at sea, or in the air, I try to keep an eye out for anything untoward.
Anyway, I'm lucky enough to be working on the beachfront in small town (the depersonalised service uniform is a small price to pay), and finally, after about a quarter of a century of careful observation, I clocked my first sighting. Not a person shredder thank goodness, because the day I see a shark in the water with my own eyes is the last day I ever set foot in the sea, but was one of its more gentle, less bitey cousins.
It was very surreal to be standing there at work, watching this beautiful barnacled creature cruise up and down the beach. In my mind I had always imagined whales to be the drunken uncle of the deep, but she had amazing grace and speed. While very grateful that my seaside observation was finally rewarded, I really hope that she makes it back down to South Australia where she ought to be this time of year.
Anyway, I'm lucky enough to be working on the beachfront in small town (the depersonalised service uniform is a small price to pay), and finally, after about a quarter of a century of careful observation, I clocked my first sighting. Not a person shredder thank goodness, because the day I see a shark in the water with my own eyes is the last day I ever set foot in the sea, but was one of its more gentle, less bitey cousins.
It was very surreal to be standing there at work, watching this beautiful barnacled creature cruise up and down the beach. In my mind I had always imagined whales to be the drunken uncle of the deep, but she had amazing grace and speed. While very grateful that my seaside observation was finally rewarded, I really hope that she makes it back down to South Australia where she ought to be this time of year.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
It's a long road finding the perfect black shoe
For the last week, in an effort to remedy the aforementioned working girl white sneaker/ black pant combo and it's painful alternative the $3 bloody sandshoe, I have been on the hunt for a new pair of black shoes. While this might sound like a very simple task, I'm finding it a ridiculously hard brief to fill.
To be honest, I'm not a massive fan of sensible black shoes - much like the white shirt, they scream "depersonalised service industry uniform" to me. I always feel really constrained when I have to wear them and in the past (after the obligatory few years clearing chewing gum off plates and making 2 year olds cappuccinos without the cappu) I have deliberately sort out employment that doesn't have a dress code of any kind, as I love my clothes like children and there is nothing crueler than locking your kids in a cupboard only to let them out on the weekend (in fact that would be against the law wouldn't it, or is that called boarding school?).
Now I've done a life u-turn and have found myself back in the service industry while I plan out the whole business thing, hence the hunt for the BS. Agh, it's really hard to make myself buy shoes that I won't be wearing for anything other than work. They have to be completely black, supremely comfortable as my legs are in revolt at the moment due to the large number of hours they are being walked on, waterproof, leather if possible so my feet breathe, less than $100 because I can't stand spending any more than that on them and please please please at least a teensy tiny bit stylish.
After trawling the two and a half shoe stores in small town with no joy, I gratefully accepted a trip one hour away to not so small town today, to see if there were any other options that didn't feature horrific silver eyelets, built up soles or overenthusiastic use of elastic. I did find a pair that I could put on without wanting to weep tears of disgust all over them, but of course they were too small. After enquiring with the lovely shoe shop sales lady (who actually knew how to fit shoes properly) if they had a larger pair she said they didn't but, of course, small town branch did.
Moral of the story... sometimes you have to go on a journey to find out that what you needed was at home all along.
To be honest, I'm not a massive fan of sensible black shoes - much like the white shirt, they scream "depersonalised service industry uniform" to me. I always feel really constrained when I have to wear them and in the past (after the obligatory few years clearing chewing gum off plates and making 2 year olds cappuccinos without the cappu) I have deliberately sort out employment that doesn't have a dress code of any kind, as I love my clothes like children and there is nothing crueler than locking your kids in a cupboard only to let them out on the weekend (in fact that would be against the law wouldn't it, or is that called boarding school?).
Now I've done a life u-turn and have found myself back in the service industry while I plan out the whole business thing, hence the hunt for the BS. Agh, it's really hard to make myself buy shoes that I won't be wearing for anything other than work. They have to be completely black, supremely comfortable as my legs are in revolt at the moment due to the large number of hours they are being walked on, waterproof, leather if possible so my feet breathe, less than $100 because I can't stand spending any more than that on them and please please please at least a teensy tiny bit stylish.
After trawling the two and a half shoe stores in small town with no joy, I gratefully accepted a trip one hour away to not so small town today, to see if there were any other options that didn't feature horrific silver eyelets, built up soles or overenthusiastic use of elastic. I did find a pair that I could put on without wanting to weep tears of disgust all over them, but of course they were too small. After enquiring with the lovely shoe shop sales lady (who actually knew how to fit shoes properly) if they had a larger pair she said they didn't but, of course, small town branch did.
Moral of the story... sometimes you have to go on a journey to find out that what you needed was at home all along.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Working Girl
Hello, welcome to half dreaming still. So another blog has entered the sphere because there isn't nearly enough of them already. I have been umming and ahhing and to-ing and fro-ing and doing lots of washing and vacuuming to avoid starting this whole thing. So why am I bothering with this if no one is making me do it and I'm having such a hard time putting fingers to keys?
REASONS FOR WRITING A BLOG (as at July 2010)
1. Within two years I want to open my very own shop. There is nothing like the threat of public humiliation to spur one on and if I post about the steps I'm taking towards making this dream come true and give it a deadline, I think I might have a better chance of actually doing it rather than just boring my long suffering friends and family with my plans for creative world domination as a means of procrastination. I like them very much and I don't want them to be sitting on the phone holding the receiver away from their ear mouthing "oh dear god, not again" to their significant other when I call.
2. I am currently living in a small town in Western Australia and while it has many things - terrifying wildlife, lots of people wearing hi viz clothing, newly installed parking meters on the one and only main street - it doesn't really have the cultural and creative distractions that I have been lucky enough to have over the last five years living in Londontown. Writing might be a way to fill the void, because Rhythm of the Dance at the Regional Entertainment Centre sure didn't.
3. After many years of working in offices I woke up one day and realised that sitting in front of a computer screen, doing the nine to five grind (or more frequently nine thirty to eight grind), working really hard for someone else, getting way too stressed, moaning to all my friends, not doing what I love doing is no way to live. I just kept thinking that there must be some other way of life. A friend once said to me that you can step out of the rat race but you are still a rat. That may be the case but this is one rat who is going to try and run her own, wearing whatever she wants.
4. In saying that I've hit an all time sartorial low and I'm really embarrassed to admit this but the other day I walked to work (more about that later) in standard issue hospo bootcut shiny trousers and
aghhhhh... ummmm
running shoes.
WHITE RUNNING SHOES!!!!!
A la Melanie Griffiths when she had a head for business and a body for sin. This is hands down my number one most hated outfit combination of all time. In my defence I have to wear black shoes at work and I only have my Berlin boots which I don't want to ruin or some $3 plimsolls that I brought from Kmart which are too small and make my feet bleed. Thank god the fashion police have too many other people to deal with down here.
Clearly I am on a slippery slope towards wearing a lot of fleece, complaining about having to pay 50 cents per half hour for parking and watching way too many rom-com DVD's. It's time to do something to turn my life around quick smart.
So, a blog it is. Part motivator to get the whole shop thing off the ground, part diary of how the next two years will pan out and part sanity preserver. Any comments, suggestions, advice and questions welcome. As are industrial sewing machines, recipes for the perfect scone, a gorgeous premises near the water in Sydney and hugs.
REASONS FOR WRITING A BLOG (as at July 2010)
1. Within two years I want to open my very own shop. There is nothing like the threat of public humiliation to spur one on and if I post about the steps I'm taking towards making this dream come true and give it a deadline, I think I might have a better chance of actually doing it rather than just boring my long suffering friends and family with my plans for creative world domination as a means of procrastination. I like them very much and I don't want them to be sitting on the phone holding the receiver away from their ear mouthing "oh dear god, not again" to their significant other when I call.
2. I am currently living in a small town in Western Australia and while it has many things - terrifying wildlife, lots of people wearing hi viz clothing, newly installed parking meters on the one and only main street - it doesn't really have the cultural and creative distractions that I have been lucky enough to have over the last five years living in Londontown. Writing might be a way to fill the void, because Rhythm of the Dance at the Regional Entertainment Centre sure didn't.
3. After many years of working in offices I woke up one day and realised that sitting in front of a computer screen, doing the nine to five grind (or more frequently nine thirty to eight grind), working really hard for someone else, getting way too stressed, moaning to all my friends, not doing what I love doing is no way to live. I just kept thinking that there must be some other way of life. A friend once said to me that you can step out of the rat race but you are still a rat. That may be the case but this is one rat who is going to try and run her own, wearing whatever she wants.
4. In saying that I've hit an all time sartorial low and I'm really embarrassed to admit this but the other day I walked to work (more about that later) in standard issue hospo bootcut shiny trousers and
aghhhhh... ummmm
running shoes.
WHITE RUNNING SHOES!!!!!
A la Melanie Griffiths when she had a head for business and a body for sin. This is hands down my number one most hated outfit combination of all time. In my defence I have to wear black shoes at work and I only have my Berlin boots which I don't want to ruin or some $3 plimsolls that I brought from Kmart which are too small and make my feet bleed. Thank god the fashion police have too many other people to deal with down here.
Clearly I am on a slippery slope towards wearing a lot of fleece, complaining about having to pay 50 cents per half hour for parking and watching way too many rom-com DVD's. It's time to do something to turn my life around quick smart.
So, a blog it is. Part motivator to get the whole shop thing off the ground, part diary of how the next two years will pan out and part sanity preserver. Any comments, suggestions, advice and questions welcome. As are industrial sewing machines, recipes for the perfect scone, a gorgeous premises near the water in Sydney and hugs.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Committment
"The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no person could have dreamed would have come their way."
W N Murray
W N Murray
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)