Twenty-Four

Damn that's a big number

24 – the number of hours in a day

24 – the number of episodes per season of some TV shows

24 – the number of times I have watched some TV shows

24 – the amount of eggs 12 chickens can produce in 2 days

24 – the opposite of the meaning of life

24 – a TV show about time, I assume

24 – an ABC news channel that is good

24  – my, that’s a lot of children you have madam

24 – the age Boyfriend was on the first birthday of his we celebrated together. We went to movieworld.

24 – the age lots of my friends have been already

24 – the age my mum was when I was 2

24 – the age at which you have to stop claiming early-twenties

24 – the age I will be tomorrow.

For some reason, 24 is the first birthday I have dreaded. I don't know why, but it makes me feel old. It doesn’t make any sense of course. I don’t think other people who are 24 are old. And I certainly don’t think older people are ANCIENT. Boyfriend, for example, is 28. That seems totally fine to me. (30, on the other hand… When he’s 30 I’m going to have to drop him like a warm legume. Honestly, who turns THIRTY?!)

It’s not one of those, “I should have done more/something else by now things, but it somehow seems like an age I just can’t be. Twenty-four! That’s the age of a grown up person. Isn’t it? Am I a grown up person? If so, I have been seriously misguided about grown up people; who they are, what they do and how they function.

So what to do with this dread and fear of a birthday? Should I pretend to be 23 for a few more years? Should I moisturise my face with a cream that fights SEVEN signs of aging? What even are the seven signs of ageing? Is one of them fear? Is another incontinence? Damn that’s some good cream. No. I think what I need to do is find some good things about being 24.

So...

It’s an even number, appealing to my love of even numbers

It’s a multiple of 8, appealing to my love of the number 8

It makes me twice the age of one of my siblings, a joy I won’t experience again until I’m 30

I’m still in the 18-24 bracket on surveys

I can say “20-something” and not feel like a douche (maybe)

I’m old enough to have learnt things and had experiences

I’m young enough to still be able to do ANYTHING I want

It's an even number

Blogging as therapy, there you go.

In Real Life (tm)

I can sing a rainbow...

A little while ago I told you that the Internet is my religion. And it is. I wrote a whole blog about it so it must be true.

But let me tell you a little something about real life.

Real life is where hugs happen. It’s where hands can be held, faces can be squished and group huddles can be formed.

In real life last weekend I got to see my dad and my mum. I got to cuddle with my mum and talk about life at 11pm and have breakfast with her the next day. I got to encourage my dad to flush my brother’s fish, Anakin, down the toilet, and encourage my mum not to buy a new fish and try to pass it off as Anakin. In real life, my brother named his fish Anakin, because in real life, my brother is a hero.

In real life I went on a roadtrip with an old friend and a new friend. The old friend’s name is Tim, and the new friend’s name is Beth. Beth and I met on the Internet a few months ago, but in real life on the weekend, we got to meet with our faces. Once again proving that the Internet is awesome, sure, but nothing quite beats real life. Tim and Beth and I went to a place called the Macadamia Castle.  It is a castle. It has a giant knight out the front. It sells macadamias.

In real life we bought hats from a castle

Beth's hair is masquerading here as my beard

In real life I went to Grafton, and drank tea, and saw people I met in Newcastle, and drank tea, and met new people, and drank tea, and got to meet most of my internet friends, and wished Alex a very happy 21st, and talked and laughed and drank champagne. At the tea party I got to meet people who I follow on tumblr, and twitter, and people who like the same things I do, and people who are into things I don’t understand (like Eurovision) and people who make me laugh and… people. Someone said, “it’s the internet in real life!” – and they were right.

In real life I got to watch Muppet Treasure Island with 20 other supposed adults, and lay on the floor in a big heap of blankets and pillow pets and cuddles and was happy. I got to sleep on the floor with the same 20 people and giggle hysterically at Charlie saying “now Lizzy, don’t get any ideas” and zipping himself tightly into a sleeping bag. “If you try anything my sleeping bag will protect me”.

In real life there was bacon. And more tea. And quiet morning chats in the garden. And collaborative kaleidoscopes.

There was more roadtripping with Beth and Tim and now with 100% more Noni. There was new music to discover, and old music to sing along to, and harmonising with one of my favourite friends. There were silly chats and serious discussions and introducing Noni to Queensland.

There was seeing Boyfriend again after 9 days of Boyfriendlessness. And Indian food. And late night drives with The Hobbit audio book and chocolate.

But all of this is overshadowed by the first point: in real life there are hugs, and the Internet, for all its glory, will never be as good as hugs.

Make. Believe.

When I was a kid, I loved ‘imagination games’. These were games predominantly in my head, and involved making up a story to act out. I particularly liked pretending to be a lioness, usually making a daring escape from a mean zookeeper with my lion cubs, who were played by teddies. I also liked to make up adventures in fictional, fantastical or historical places. Or sometimes I would use a book or movie to form the basis of an imagination game and would act out a story that could fit in that world. I know lots of kids play ‘pretend’, but sometimes I wouldn’t even act that much of the game out, I would just let it happen in my head.

I had a friend in primary school who was also into imagination games.  The two of us regularly ran a day care centre for imaginary children, or a shop, or other businesses. We had a purse full of coins from her mum and we pretended that 1c was a dollar, 10c = $10 etc., so if we ever found 5 or 10 dollars, for instance, we would be stinking rich and would take a pretend holiday. Sometimes our games were quite dramatic, I remember one in which I was her blind sister and we were trying to pay for my surgery. We never discussed it, but we only ever played these games when it was just the two of us. When we were with other girls, we played at make up and talked about boys and listened to music and pretended to be grown up. Which is sad, in a way, because we were only about 11. I also remember thinking around this time that I should grow out of playing pretend games, but I never really did.

When I was a teenager, I often used them to help me do things I didn’t want to. Bringing in the washing became harvesting fruit, I would pretend that jobs or homework I had to do were part of a race against the clock type gameshow. I remember spending school holidays when I was home alone, pretending that my life was something else. Not because I didn’t like my life, but because hey, I could be eating 2 minute noodles in the backyard OR I could be eating an authentic Japanese noodle dish in the Emperor’s private garden, awaiting his approval of my new kimono.

As an adult, I definitely don’t play games in my head as often as I used to. It’s sort of as if the kid in me has forgotten how. Or maybe that she’s just asleep, because sometimes I still do. She must wake up every now and again because sometimes I’m not walking down the street; I’m a trained assassin, following my next target. I’m not ironing my clothes, I’m ironing the Lady’s clothes, and if I don’t have all the creases pressed out she won’t look perfect at the ball tomorrow and it will bring disgrace on the house.

Actually, I’m very often living out Downton Abbey fantasies… I play them at work sometimes, when I’m setting up for a conference. All the chairs have to face a certain way, and I like to lay the tea cups out perfectly symmetrically, and all the while I’m not Lizzy, I’m Anna and I’m not setting them out for a client, I’m setting them out for the Crawleys.

I’m not sure if anyone else does this sort of thing, but I suspect it is one of the reasons I like writing stories so much. Do you still play pretend? Tell me all about it. 

12 Things I do that my Teenaged Self would Judge me for

Art.

1.     I wear clothes that are fashionable because they are fashionable. Of course, I also wear really ugly shit, and stuff that I like, that no one else in their right mind would wear, but I do that for me, not to prove a point. The point is I try to look nice on a regular basis, and Teenaged Lizzy would think that was the height of conformity (a bad thing, obviously).

2.     I like stuff because other people are into it. See point 1.

3.     Social Media. Not only do I use it, I LOVE it. Facebook didn’t exist when Teenaged Lizzy was around, but if it had, you can rest assured she would’ve thought it was stupid. Teenaged Lizzy’s boyfriend got a Myspace once, and a few weeks’ later he was no longer her boyfriend. THOSE THINGS WERE NOT RELATED – but someone asked if it was. For real, they thought she’d broken up with him because he joined Myspace. What does that say about Teenaged Lizzy, huh?

4.     I drink alcohol. Older Teenaged Lizzy was well on board with this one, but younger Teenaged Lizzy definitely thought getting drunk was the WORST thing in the ENTIRE world.

5.     I’ve don't hate drugs. WHAT! Teen Lizzy would’ve flat out refused to believe this. Teen Lizzy (Teen Wolf?) was the most irritating person in the entire world about drugs. “Is _____ going to be there? I can’t come to the party then, in case he brings drugs.” TEEN LIZZY IF ­­­_____ BRINGS DRUGS GO TO A DIFFERENT ROOM OR LEAVE DON’T MAKE THE HOST FEEL BAD FOR INVITING THEIR FRIEND OMG.

6.     I respect my parents’ opinions. And I don’t just mean in that “yes mum, whatever you say, mum” kind of way. I mean like, if I have an emotional issue, I call my mum to talk about it because she knows me really well and is wise and clever. And my dad is my go to guy for life decisions like purchasing cars or insurance and what have you. Also cooking. They know things. I proactively seek their opinions on those things.

7.     I don’t believe in God. That’s right, Teen Lizzy, all your holier-than-thou shit is going to look even stupider in a few years when I throw in the towel on the whole Catholic thing and take up full time Atheism.

8.     I exercise and eat well. What up Teen Lizzy, being healthy isn’t lame ok, it’s a good thing that means I don’t get sick all the time like you do.

9.     I forgive people for their mistakes. Teen Lizzy, your love/friendship isn’t so important that people should have to be perfect in order to earn it. If they can say “sorry”, you can say, “no worries”.

10. I eat avocados. They are the fruit of the gods. I don’t know what you were smoking, Teen Lizzy, to think they weren’t delicious (though I think we can all assume it wasn’t drugs).

11. I write funny things, because, Teen Lizzy, you don’t make friends with bad poetry about emotions.

12. I have embraced the Inner Nerd you tried to keep hidden for so long, Teen Lizzy, she’s nice and she has good t-shirts, I wish you’d let her out earlier.

13. I have internet friends because internet friends are good, and guess what Teen Lizzy? YOU’RE A NERD, ACCEPT IT!

Converted

Clearly that is stained glass...

Internet is the new religion.

We worship at altars named Safari and Chrome and Firefox daily, and some old-fashioned people still worship at an old decrepit relic known as Internet Explorer. We connect through personal reflection on smart phones every few hours.

Personally, I live in the way of the Internet; everything I do is of the Internet, for the Internet and to the glory of the Internet. I love it and it loves me. Sometimes, the Internet punishes me for reasons I don’t quite understand. I do not question when the Internet shows me unending cat gifs or Sherlock/Watson fanfic, for the Internet moves in mysterious ways. The Internet knows best.

I pay a part of my monthly income to the Internet and it forms a part of my professional, social and family lives. Without it I am lost, wandering in the desert, helpless.

Trolls and cyber bullies try to misuse the Internet. They start holy flame wars and try to blame their problems on the Internet. But the Internet can be used for good; for charity, for helping others and raising awareness. It can be used to spread love and joy, happiness and fun. This is the true way of the Internet, and those who walk in the light know this in their hearts and hard drives.

The Internet is not like most, modern religions; it celebrates sex and sexuality. In fact it’s kind of pagan in its worship of all things sex.

The Internet has its own community of worshippers, brought together by the glory of the Internet, to bask in its love and share its joy with one another. I have many friends with whom I share a deep connection due to our shared love of the Internet. We met through the Internet, and worship daily together.

I am zealous in my conversion of others. I will enthusiastically show them videos and pictures when we meet IRL (In Real Life – a sad existence sans Internet) and discuss the merits of my favourite ways to worship – Twitter, Tumblr, my blog. I am always glad and excited when I help someone to become even closer to the Internet. And the Internet rewards me when I do this by giving me a new follower, a new person to interact with, a new reader.

The Internet is open to interpretation, and is its own holy text.

The Internet sent a prophet to us, his name is Stephen Fry and he is the one, true embodiment of the Internet.

The Internet’s most holy ritual is the scrolling through and checking of one’s entire feed.

The Internet’s most holy image changes regularly, as it is the Google Home Page.

The Internet’s most holy animal is the cat.

All hail the Internet.

Country/Girl: A Good Day

Plants, they're a thing.

“Is it very far from your house?”

“Yeah, it’s right on the edge of town, probably about as far from my place as you can get. About a 5 minute drive”

Small town living is still such a new experience to me, but sometimes I do catch myself saying stuff like this, without any trace of humour in my voice. Perspective changes when you move somewhere like Dalby. Once I thought Toowoomba was a tiny, hole of a place, and now it seems like a massive city. Driving through it takes aaaaaaaaaages. Beautifully, I know this must mean that there are people living in even smaller towns who think Dalby is way too big and I have met people who consider those of us that live in town to be ‘townies’, not real country people like those who live on properties in the region.

I am obviously not a real country person, because I’m so new, but I really am loving the small town life. Yesterday was a really good day, let me step you through it.

7:45am – I drag myself out of bed at the earliest time I’ve had to in a long while. Ah, unemployment, you sexy beast. It is way too cold to be alive.

8am – I eat a delicious warm breakfast of porridge with berries and, of course, a cup of tea. This has become so routine for me I find myself going to sleep actually excited about my breakfast in the morning. It’s so delicious. And this is huge for me considering I spent many years not being able to stomach anything before about 10am.

8:15am – I doll myself up all corporate like

8:45am – I leave the house for a job interview. It’s nice and close so I walk.

9am – Job interview. I’ve already been interviewed by this company, and I’m not 100% sure what to expect here.

9:15am – I realise he is offering me a job. Not the job I applied for but one I have absolutely no experience in. He says I have the right attitude/temperament for it and would like to train me. I am chuffed but stunned and ask him if I can think about it, he is more than happy to oblige.

9:30am I am home already and spend some time contemplating the position I have been offered. I also call my mum and drink some tea. I spend some time cultivating my tea tumblr and interacting with humans I know on the internet.

11:30am I call my Nana. We talk for more than an hour about all sorts of things, but specifically we discuss gardening in great detail. She is a master. I describe my little yard to her and she gives me advice on what I can do with it. She spends some time trying to convince me to take furniture from her even though we live quite far away from each other and none of it would fit in my house.

12:45pm – I contemplate the special dinner I might make for my friends when they come up this weekend and write a shopping list.

1pm – At the mall in town, I discover the GLORIOUS news that the deli now sells sushi. It is a brand I know to be actually good. This is the only sushi in town, and I am so excited I order a sandwich instead. The sandwich has Brie on it and I am so excited about the sushi I text my mum to let her know. She calls me again and we have a brief chat.

1:15pm – I look for some people I need to interview for the ABC Open workshops I am doing. There are 2 people in particular I see all the time who I think would be really interesting to talk to. Of course they are nowhere in sight.

1:30pm – I go grocery shopping. Riveting stuff here, people. Oh, also I buy a crotchet needle and some yarn because I’m AWESOME.

2:30 pm – Deciding to take some of my Nana’s advice, I go to the giant Mitre 10 and buy some dirt and a trowel. One of the ladies who works there is super rude for no reason, and this is so out of character with pretty much everyone I’ve ever met here that I am stunned and outraged. They don’t sell plants, but the nice man at the counter tells me where the landscaping place is.

2:40pm – Driving around town to all these little places, I get a sudden and overwhelming rush of love for Dalby. The sun is shining, everyone (except that Mitre 10 lady) is lovely and helpful. The streets are wide and everything is close together. I’m running all these errands and they’re all within spitting distance of each other. I don’t even care that I accidentally scraped my car with the trowel.

2:45pm – THE LANDSCAPING PLACE IS AMAZING. It is beautiful and full of lovely plants and garden things and house things and I want to spend FOREVER there. I manage to only spend about 20 minutes there, and pick out some great little plants that are on sale. I tell the guy I will probably see him again soon because I’ll kill the plants and he encourages me to try not to.

3:15pm – sitting in my backyard, happy as a kid in dirt. Because I am, in fact, a kid in dirt. I pot all my new little plants in pots I stole from my mother’s garden last time I was in Brisbane. I make a little corner of the garden come alive with herbs and lavender and things. There’s a strawberry plant too but I don’t have a lot of hope for that one, it’d be too good to be true to have my own strawberries.

3:45pm – I get the old, ugly hose working and water everything. I also clean the outside walls a bit and fill a plastic bag with crap the last tenant left in the yard; cigarette butts and broken pegs and things. I decide not to despair about just how much crap there is and take it one plastic bag at a time. If I chip at it for a few weeks it should be nice again soon.

4pm – I shower all the dirt off me and contemplate that job some more.

4:30pm – I potter on the internet again.

4:55pm – I get a call from another place I have been interviewed at. He asks me to come in for a THIRD time tomorrow morning at 8:30 and I agree hurriedly before really finding out why.  SPOILER – it’s to offer me the job, which I totally just accepted! Hooray! 

5pm – I wash the dishes and Boyfriend gets home. I regale him with my excellent day (while wearing soap sud gloves) and make him come and stare at herbs, which he says look great.

6pm – I make Shepherd’s Pie while Boyfriend plans his lessons.

7pm – We eat Shepherd’s Pie. Delicious. It’s excellent ABC TV night so we watch Doctor Who (Are you my mummy?), Randling, Seven Dwarves (such a great documentary, I love it) and Laid (although at this point Boyfriend has gone back to planning).

10:30pm – We go to bed and I spend half an hour half sleepily convincing myself that the interview the next day is actually a race and if I get there after the other final applicant (there was no other final applicant in the end of course) then I’ll lose the race and they’ll give me a silver medal but no job. 

Internet Fame

One day I’d like to be internet famous. I’m not really sure why I want this. I’ve never wanted to be any other kind of famous. I know lots of people do, I personally know lots of people who do want real life fame, or who have in the past, but it’s never really been my thing. My grandma often talks about my name one day “being in lights” (I think this is a prerequisite for being a grandma) but I’ve always thought what a horrible thing that would be. Imagine not being able to go places and enjoy them because people think you owe them something… a photo, an autograph, a smile. Sometimes you want to go places and frown, you know? And not have people analysing that the next day.

This is why internet fame would be the best kind of fame. I could be famous from my own living room. I could be famous and still get to wear my dressing gown all the time (like I’m doing right now). I know this is naïve, I know that lots of internet famous people get mobbed and have stalkers and have to… you know, engage with other people in the real world, but this is a pipe dream people, let me smoke it how I want.

I think it’s probably a bit embarrassing to admit you want internet fame. It’s something that’s just meant to happen, and you’re not meant to expect it, or know what to do with it. And you have to be humble and surprised when your tweets get retweeted 50+ times and your ask box on tumblr gets swamped with requests for sexual favours. Of course, I WOULD be quite surprised, and humbled… but I’d also be mother effing excited. “Eeeee”, I would say, “I’m internet famous!” I would yell.

I guess the real reason I would like people to be my internet followers/stalkers/friends/lovers is because I like writing things, I like people to read the things I write and the internet is an easy way to share things that I write with people who can read. I’m also quite lazy, so if I can achieve maximum readership with minimum hair brushing, then that’s a real win for me. Extra points if there’s chocolate in the fridge.

I try to write funny tweets, but I’m still learning at that one. It really wasn’t so long ago I was using twitter as a means to drunkenly embarrass myself in 140 characters or less, so it’s early days. Now I’m always sober when I use twitter, and only embarrass myself 47% of the time, almost always deliberately, so that’s something.

I made a tumblr devoted entirely to tea the other day. This has been an instant success with no less than 55 tea-loving heroes signing up to follow my daily tea obsession. I have no idea what to do with this kind of power.

Obviously, my biggest chance at internet stardom is this here blog. Not only do I have a number of people who actually read it every time (you guys, I actually love you), I also genuinely enjoy writing it, and believe I’m getting better at it too. So that’s why I am completely chuffed to share this image with you all.

That’s right, today I hit 10, 000 overall views of Hum Drum Plum. Actually, truth be told I hit 9,999. I really wanted to get a screenshot of the big moment, but of course the big moment didn’t arrive. So I asked Boyfriend to look at my blog, refreshed the page and BAM, captured. So yes, I sort of cheated, but it made a good story, and we are all about good stories here at the Plum.

In conclusion, I made a facebook fan page. Yeah, this was all a big lead up to this plug (no, it wasn’t, not really I swear!). But anyway, if you’d like a nice easy way to get updates on when I upload things/ want to easily comment on things without having to get a google account/an open ID (nobody even knows what that is), then please like my facebook page. Don’t be scared, clicky clicky.

Also you may have noticed my blogs now come with little reaction boxes. These are a really lazy and pleasant way to interact with me. It’s like you saying “hey, I’m here, I read the thing and it wasn’t shit, great so please continue” without actually having to say it.

Thanks for all your support/lurking.

L

P.S I’m going to revamp the page soon I PROMISE, so it won’t be as offensive to your eyes anymore.