Forget me not.

Keep me breathing..

“If we look at the world with a love of life, the world will reveal its beauty to us.” ~Daisaku Ikeda

I love the smell of freshly cut grass, purging to my senses as every single one of my thoughts disappear.

I love the feel of rain drops on my skin, cold, real.

I love the way flowers, even just one, can make a landscape of a pallet of greys and browns, prettier. I love the way they're perfect even in their imperfection.

I love the way one bird answers another, whistling, trilling melodically, a sweet language of notes.

I love the way the the sun and the clouds argue. Fluffy, bulbous, imperfect marshmellows covering the sun as it fights to shine through, finally, succeeding when the wind parts the clouds, blowing them out of the way as the sun caresses my face, warming me to my bones.

I love looking people in the eye and noticing the patterns and hues of their iris, textures of a crater, river or sparkle in their eye.

I love the flutter of butterfly wings.

I love the first kiss, the unsuredness, the quickened heartbeat, the first imprint of lips and electricity charge through the body.

I love old things, things with a history, a story behind them.

I love spring and all things yellow.

I love music and how it takes over my mind, every beat and melody and backing, working together to take care of my soul.

high-larious.

Completely politically incorrect but undeniably hilarious.

According to whatsis face...

Statistics - can't trust 'em. I mean, they say "statistics don't lie", oh and I love the phrase "statistics show" to draw some grand, outlandish conclusion, but really, they're always taken from a select group of people which are supposed to be generalized across a whole nation, and most the time, just like science, it disproves itself.

For example, they say (statistics say - I'm sure there's some sort of scientific basis for this) a person thinks about 60,000 thoughts a day with 56,400 thoughts centred on the self. Other statistics say 70,000, others 12,000. Some dude (probably some one important or something) reckons 2-3000 (seems a bit off according to statistics)... I just googled this question to get the exact statistic for you and pretty much every site has a different dang figure! Statistics are soooooo reliable.

And how do they even get those "stats"?? (picturing some sort of inception scenario in labs with a wrinkled, fluffy-haired, toothless grandpa holding a metal helmet over a body, here).. and what even constitutes a "thought"? what about the "slow" G's, the deep-thinker's, analytical and creative arty farts? and that 56K figure, that's a figure for a fairly balanced individual, yeah? so what about the obviously selfish pepos?

Like I said, grand and outlandish.

Obviously we won't remember most our thoughts, just the interesting ones (oh man, I must be so boring, I never remember what I'm going on about) but imagine if we did, we'd have no room in our brains to.... think - el oh el - didn't think that one through.. but I mean we'd be all over the place. I already feel like my brain is cluttered with shiz and my thought bin is empty... but I can't even remember what my thoughts are.. and where was I going with this post?? rambling about something.. oh right, statistsics...

Mmm, I tire of this topic, time to finish.

I think I have bipolar.

statistically

irrelevant

Erm, so I failed the 1 month ban, well no, I didn't fail, Ray failed and now is indebted to me so I went back on.. yeeeeeeep.

BUT I'm detoxing with another set of people now.. hehe.

Two weeks.

Easy.

Blah.

It wasn't even midday yet and already 3 calls from work. Like, do you mind?! trying to be ill here.

That is all.

Whatta mad dog.

I went to my sister's house tonight for dinner, and my brother-in-law Bryce took me for a spin on his motorbike. That's right guys, his big, black, sexy Harley Davidson. And for a moment, I felt like a legit bikie chick in a harley leather jacket, face mask, helmet, glasses and leather gloves. If we could just take a moment now to picture this and appreciate the moment I had please?

It was sooooo... exhilarating, amazing, exciting, thrilling, adrenalating etc etc.. It was like, one moment we're going around round abouts and i'm scared that if we lean just a little bit more we could fall off, and the next moment we're gearing up hills or racing down the freeway, my eyes watering against the wind that has pushed past my eye wear, and then the next moment my butt is banging against the seat as we ride down a bumpy rode at 110kms.

And the inertia? amazing.

Yep. I'm pretty much gonna get me one of them.

The follow up post for yonks ago - my bad.

So I know it was a while ago that I posted about the whole egg donation thingo but I forgot all about it because after I did my homework I realized I couldn't do it.

I'll just give you a rundown of the procedure from what I understand of it.

First off, once all the interviews and blah blah's have happened and you've found someone you're going to donate to you have to have a check up which requires blood tests and ultrasounds to assess the health of your ovaries and check access for egg pick up etc. If all is well you then have to sync your menstrual cycle with the 'receiver's'. This is done by either injections or nasal spray and the cycling sync procedure can take from anywhere between 14-30 days. You first have to take this medication to suppress the ovaries from ovulating and then again to stimulate the ovaries to produce multiple follicles (to produce multiple eggs) - this is an injection. During this time you have blood tests and ultrasounds to monitor your ovaries to make sure you don't over stimulate or under stimulate. 36 hrs before egg pick up, a trigger injection is needed to release the eggs, to aid pick up. Day surgery admission for Egg Pick Up, with fasting both food and drink after 12am the night before. A light anesthetic is given to be ‘out’ for about an hour while the doctor picks up your eggs. This is done using a needle and needle guide through a vaginal transducer. The fluid in the follicles is drained, and the eggs are then taken for fertilisation.

So that's roughly the procedure, if you're interested in more info check this link

So, problems pour moi:

1. Having my hymen still intact, a slight (massive) problem for the ultrasounds and egg pickup. And I really wouldn't like my first time to be some sort of metal device. Sorry if that's crude.

2. Clinics generally won't let anyone who hasn't had at least one child (if not already completed their families) to donate, I suppose this is for the psychological effects.

3. Even if I was eligible, Victorian laws do not allow 'anonymous' donations. Meaning the child would always have access to me... but I still haven't decided where I stand on this point. But no matter, I'd have no choice anyway.

So yeah, that's me. And I'm kinda relieved that I didn't get the choice... it was too big for me to make.

All I seem to be talking about these days is the amount of sleep I'm NOT getting, boring much? I say as I sit here at 2:47am on a Saturday morning, blogging again to electrical currents.

My 1 month ban from facebook is going well, I have to say (it's only been a couple days though so don't be impressed). Yes, you will be reading a lot more ramble from me on here. Yes, I will be randomly surfing the net reading up on the invention of telephones (1876, guys) and mangos (did you know an average sized mango has 40% of the rdi of fibre? High in potassium too). Yes, I have made a Skype to compensate.

Yes, I have a problem.

But don't pretend you don't either, you just haven't allowed yourself to see it.. that's all I'm sayin'.

BUT (I know it's bad to start sentences with 'but'), I have gone back to good old book reading so there is some goodness a-happenin'.

Maybe I'll take up quilting... or not.

The challenge.

I de-activated my facebook account yesterday. I feel so disconnected with the world now, how sad is that? I already find myself tempted to log back in, what on earth did I do with myself before facebook came along? oh, myspace. A general observation here but isn't it tragic how people's lives have become accustomed to being centred around cyber space and trivial things like who is connected with who and what they plan to eat for dinner... I say as I sit here blogging into cyber space.

So anyway, a challenge has been put to me - a one month ban of facebook. If I break I owe my good friend Ray Muliaga $100 (and vice versa if he breaks). Not loose change in my back pocket.

Now alls I have to do is figure out a way to have my small victories over my boss now that constant login on to fb is out of the question... pilfering of office stationary? hiding his numerous pairs of sunglasses every now and then? questions, questions. But obviously I have to be a lot more creative.

Perfect.

With the amount of chaos that's going on in my life right now the only thing keeping me slightly sane are moments by myself with the stars and music playing in my ears. Last night in an attempt to get my zen happening I wondered outside across the field and to the park, shoeless, earphones in.

Music, is God's second greatest gift in my opinion. Just before flowers.

I sat on the swing looking at the sky, feeling the cool metal against my skin, grass under my feet and the breeze against my face, just letting all verbal thoughts go. My mind was completely and utterly filled with sound. I didn't feel like I was listening to anything external, I felt like the music was inside me, inside my mind.

And when I listened to something acapella, through my earphones I could hear the crickets - and it was sacred.

light in dark :)

Whilst insomnia haunted me last week (and this week still), rather than lay in bed cursing the active voice in my head but fatigued body I decided to have a midnight snoop around my house. Lo and behold, what do I find but a set of top secret government (ASIO) documents and fake passports... no, not really, not at all. I found a journal my parents wrote in when we were little with a bunch of loose documents sitting adhoc in its pages. It was fascinating reading stories about the start of the family and I felt a little affectionate swell as I read about their descriptions/comments about each of us children. So tender.

Things I learned:

1. My parents were always waaaaaaaaaaay spiritual.
2. Papa took me to see Luciano Pavarotti in concert when I was 3.
3. Papa used to do a bit of local radio work.
4. Mama bear insisted on finishing baking bread after her water broke before she went to the hospital to have me.
5. My older sibs did love me once... jokes. they never did. jokes again.

oh and I found this amongst various pictures and notes us kiddies drew/wrote to our parents over the young years :)

That mother of mine is secretly getting botox or something, I swear.