Leaf, probably…

Otherwise known as the day I got caught looking at my belly in the ladies bathroom, and taking a good gander down my top at my desk.

Confused? I’ll explain.

I was in the bathroom washing my hands, as you do, and I noticed something. Or to be exact I didn’t notice something. So I lifted up the bottom of my shirt to take a look.

Either my jeans are super super flattering, or the lighting in that bathroom is amazing, because my tummy looked nice and flat - like curvy-flat, not flat-flat.

I was basking in the flattering light and admiring my curvy-flat tummy when the door opened and a lady walked in. I pulled my shirt down, and she slid into the first available stall looking a little bemused. I almost told her that the light was super flattering at the sink I was at, but some days you need to rein in the crazy in order to not scare strangers.

I wear my hair down most days, and I tend to molt. So when I noticed my boobs were itchy I figured that I had a hair down my top because it happens all the freaking time - and wow is it annoying.

So instead of sticking my hand down my top to fish around, because that would have been weird looking, I pulled my top out and took a good look around… Then I stuck my hand down there to have a fish around…

Before I could find the source of the itch one of the old delivery dudes appeared at the door with an armful of papers.

Now fishing around in my cleavage is going to have to be added to the list of things I shouldn’t be doing in the office. The things I do just to seem normal at the office…

So I have two 50 minute exams coming up, that, to be completely honest with you? I’m not thrilled about.

I also have an essay that I’m moderately interested in writing. It’s on a really interesting subject and the readings for it have been great, however the actual writing of? blah.

It seems I’m always much more interested in writing these essays when they’re still an idea, rather than an activity I have to actually perform.

Loads of people I know are graduating this week notably: Karlie, Louise, and Adey. Ben would have been too, if he wasn’t doing honours this year.

It’s going to take forever before I get to that point. Remind me again why I signed up for all this study and essay and test crap?

I’m kidding I know why I’m here. I just enjoy moaning pitifully about the misfortune it all. It makes me feel like I’m getting my moneys worth out of Study Link.

Shannon thinks that the only real way to eat eggs is:
a) Poached.
b) Fried.
c) Omletticised.

Shannon thinks coffee:
a) Sounds like a good idea sometimes.
b) Sounds like a bad idea at all times.
c) May actually be the devil in disguise… Not a good disguise, but a disguise anyway.

Shannon prefers:
a) 8.00 am - the day is full of promise and sparkly stabby light.
b) 6.30pm - work is over and she’s at the gym or kicking things as hard as she can.
c) 11.00pm - most people are asleep, and the house is calm, dark and quiet.

Shannon secretly dreams about being:
a) a ballet dancer, a rock climber, a baker, an astronaut, and a jockey.
b) a wood carver, an astronaut, an actress, a heiress, and a baker.
c) a wood carver, a heiress, an actress, a spy, and an astronaut.
d) a rock climber, a ballet dancer, a spy, a wood carver, and a jockey.

___

So I was looking at my stat’s this morning, and I realised a few things. First, this blog has been active since 16 August 2007.

In that time I have written 234 posts. Roughly 233 of those posts were about a Very Important Subject; namely me. You guys don’t seem to mind that so much though, because I’ve had 1,725 comments, also all about me, or the stuff I’m interested in.

In total this site has had 16,630 views - most of which from people looking for “vomit porn”, “pumpkin boobs”, “leaf porn”, and “smokin hot dive babes”. One of my posts mentioning 3 out of 4 of those things has 524 views alone. I expect this post to top that.

Today is a little different. This post is about the fact that I know it’s all about me, and my activities, and my friends, and my house, and the stuff I whine about. And I also know that can get a teeny tiny little bit repetitive.

So today I’m giving you the opportunity to tell me something about you.

What do you like doing in your spare time? What have you done recently to embarrass yourself in public? What really annoys the crap out of you? Would you like to take this chance to whine about something? anything at all? Would you like to tell me about something you’ve eaten recently? Or all about someone you know?

Well now is the time. Comment away. Spill the beans. Hijack my blog for your own nefarious purposes.

Just don’t you get used to it though, because tomorrow’s a new day, and it’s back to being all about me, me, ME. As it should be.

This Saturday I went to the Mediterranean Food Warehouse in Newtown with Ben’s parents. And Ben of course… It would have been awkward if he wasn’t there too.

The Pizza was AMAZING and, if you have an e-book, there’s a voucher in there for pizza. So, you know, you pretty much have to go.

And while you’re there grab a couple of bottles of Italian wine, because the wine was awesome. Much like the pizza.

I think my favorite had cherry tomatoes and Italian sausage and cheese and tangy tomatoy sauce - and my second favorite was loaded with mushrooms, and parma ham. And guys, I don’t even like mushrooms. That’s how good the pizza was.

You know what else happened this weekend? Karlie Louise and I were all in the same room for longer than an hour. That’s weird because usually Karlie has plans in town, and Louise works, and I have to be somewhere for something that involves being wet, or cold, or sweaty. So it was weird all hanging out together but nice too. I took a look around the room and I was like, ‘hey, I totally live with you people… Awesome…’ It’s nice to finally find a flatting situation that works.

On Friday night I was home alone. So instead of getting started on my readings, or writing my essay due in two weeks, I did a few other things. I washed every dish in the sink (It only took an hour.) Then I made myself dinner, and did the dishes again - I live on the wild side…

After that I put a load of washing on, vacuumed, baked brownies, washed a load of sheets and gross workout clothes that I found balled at the bottom of my gym bag - which I also cleaned out. Then I rearranged the lounge, cleaned up the mess of wires behind our TV, found the manual for our universal remote, put on another load of washing, and pondered why I have so many clothes, and can never find a thing to wear.

After I finished pondering I ate a brownie (I think I’m finally getting the hang of baking without burning), drank 2 litres of water, watered all the pot plants, tidied my bombsite of a room, shoved about a ton of clothing in the dryer, fixed the tv antenna so that we can get C4 without having an epileptic fit, and read all about the resting heartbeat on the Internet.

When I am bored I am productive. Unfortunately I did not do any work for Uni, or learn any more Korean for Taekwon-Do, but I can tell you that a woman’s average resting heartbeat is about 70 beats per minute, and a man’s is about 75bpm. Mine is 60bpm, measured from my pulse, which is actually not that accurate for measuring something like this. Listening through a stethoscope would be better.

Also your resting heart rate is measured while you are sitting quietly and relaxed, and things like fitness, weight and lifestyle have an impact on it. If you are overweight and unfit your resting heart rate will be higher, and indicate that perhaps your heart is under a bit more stress than it should be.

Are you glad you know that now? I am. I’m sure it will come in useful one day.

Also this weekend, I’ve been pondering glasses. I’m wondering if perhaps I need to visit an optometrist and get my eyes checked out lately. My eyes get sore and red after staring at a computer screen and text books all day, and I’ve noticed that I get headaches more and more often when I’m trying to read.

Also reading used to be something I had to force myself to stop doing in order to eat drink and sleep. These days takes actual effort to concentrate on textbooks, and recreational reading - which is weird because I am genuinely interested in the stuff I’ve got to read so concentration shouldn’t be an issue, right?

Then again, maybe it’s just too many hours in front of the computer, not enough sleep, and getting old. So maybe I don’t need glasses.

I have always wanted glasses though, I think I’d look totally smart with them, and that may balance out all the totally idiotic things I do on a daily basis.

This is Ben’s puppy Phoebe. Her ears are pretty much the softest things you will ever feel.

We’ve only met once, but I like to think she could at least pick me out of a crowd and say: “You know what, she looks a tiny bit familiar… Maybe. No, actually I’m pretty sure that was a dream I had the other night. Boy am I hungry, Is is lunch time?”

I wen’t to Taekwon-Do last night. Just like I do every Monday and Thursday night.

And just before I tell you this main story about what happened last night, I need to preface with a few facts:

• I don’t like blood.
• I don’t like the thought of blood, even.
• Once when I was in primary school the local youth gang representative stapled himself in the finger while he was threatening the teacher with the stapler. I went white, the world got all underexposed and hazy, I threw up all over the place, and got to go home with Mum.

So last night at Taekwon-Do We split into two teams for team sparring.

One team picks a person for the ring, an the other counters. We were down to the second to last pair, the black belts, and they went pretty hard out on each other. 10 seconds before time was up one took an unexpected hard hit to the face.

He dropped to the ground, and was clearly in a lot of pain. I felt all the blood rush from my face. He hyperventilated, and a thin line of cold sweat appeared on my hairline. The black belts helped him off the mat and into recovery position at the side of the room.

The instructor came back to the mats and called for everyone to gather round. He explained that while accidents do happen safety is of the up-most importance to everyone in the dojang. He told us how most of the black belts had first aid certificates.

Everything looked a bit underexposed and hazy.

The instructor reiterated that that sort of thing was highly unlikely to ever happen to us, at our levels, because they simply wouldn’t allow it. The instructor asked if anyone had any issues with what they had seen. When he was sure everyone was ok, the class move on to learning sparring combos.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

I leaned over the sink with my wrists under the cold water and hung my head down to get some blood back into it. Then I went out and plonked myself down against a wall and drank some water. It only took a few minutes for me to come right, so I joined back into the sparring.

At the end of class the instructor came up and said that he was sorry I missed my go in the ring after the accident. I mentioned that I was weird about blood and stuff - even though there was no blood. I couldn’t explain my reaction to my satisfaction. I think he may have misunderstood me because he said that this sort of thing just plain old wouldn’t be allowed to happen at my level.

I was curious as to exactly what had set me off. And exactly why, So I gave my imaginary therapist a call (I have her on speed dial.)

So, someone got hurt sparring today?

Yeah. He was ok later on. I think, it was just a hell of a shock to the system and he needed a bit of help. Someone mentioned something about possible concussion.

I understand you didn’t do so well with watching that?

No I needed to sit down, and cool off. It happens a lot when I cut myself, or when other people get hurt. I’m really bad in the kitchen with knives and cutting myself because I just can’t deal with blood.

So it’s blood that sets you off?

Yup.

But there was no blood.

Maybe it was the suggestion of blood.

The suggestion of blood was enough to set you off?

There might have been blood. He could have broken his nose… At any moment blood could have started pouring out.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that I don’t like the idea of someone being hurt. All I know is I see a person in extreme unexpected pain and it’s scary, and I need to sit down so I don’t fall down. Or throw up.

Is it because You’re worried about it happening to you?

Not particularly.

So not at all?

Maybe a tiny bit. But that’s not the bit that makes me all light headed and fainty. I don’t like watching people get hurt.

So why are you doing Taekwon-Do then if you don’t like watching people get hurt? You know there’s always the chance that something will go wrong - there’s even the chance that you’re going to hurt someone.

I know that they take a lot of precautions in the dojang, and at the end of the day, it is a physical sport and accidents happen. And yeah I’m really worried I’m going to hurt someone one day. But at this stage mostly what I’m doing is so ineffective that it’s more likely I’ll hurt myself.

Or accidentally kick someon in the balls because I don’t lift high enough in some kicks. I’m very paranoid about that. Once my brother chased me through the house with a knife because I kicked him in the balls.

It was so effective at stopping him from being a little shit, that I’ve been scared to do it again until I really need to.

Seriously you kicked him in the balls? And your parents didn’t ground you for life?

Yeah I had anger issues back then. That’s not the point of this phone call though. We were talking about how I understand that accidents can and will happen.

Right, of course.

So you understand that something could go wrong, and yet when it happens you still get fainty and need to sit down? I’m not sure I understand your logic.

I know. It’s freaking weird, and I’m not sure there’s actually all that much logic involved. Here I’ll simplify it:

Taekwon-Do is physical, there is always the small chance that someone could be hurt, it’s a fact of life. I’m cool with it.

When people get hurt they make scary sounds, and there may be blood. I’m not cool with that. In fact a lot of the time I’m so not cool with it that I have to sit down and visualise my happy place with a cold bottle of water on the back of my neck.

It matters very little to me how the blood got there, the fact that there is blood is enough to make me want to throw up.

Right, blood… But you’re a woman… What happens when…

It’s unpleasant, but it’s fine. It kind of has to be fine otherwise I’d be fucking screwed right?

Right. Sorry I know it’s not a professional question to ask, you know me being your therapist and all…

I know… it’s just the first question that pops into everyone’s head when they find out how weird I get over cuts and stuff.

I have a new pair of pants.

They are size 14, and the biggest pants I have ever tried to keep on my hips, and it’s not working particularly well. I shouldn’t be wearing them at all, but I stayed last night at Ben’s and I pretty much didn’t try them on before I decided they’d be perfect for work today.

The crotch is hanging down at mid-thigh, and I had to shorten the pants by a good 10 cm. With staples. Don’t tell my mother.

I am the most gangster person in the office today, which is something. Even the delivery guy has less baggy, saggy pants than I do. I’m resisting the urge to put my trainers back on, along with a pair of sunglasses, and a gang colour bandanna.

(I say resisting, but it’s really not that much of a struggle - the Security Guards would probably shoot me on sight if I wandered around wearing gang paraphernalia.)

(Whoa. Tangent..)

As a result this morning I’ve been holding my pants up with one hand, while browsing on TradeMe with the other, looking for a sewing machine…

I’m pretty sure that I’d be awesome at sewing if I had my own machine - despite the fact that I have broken every machine I have ever used. I’m going to blame those spectacular failures at choosing to do Wearable Arts with Cassandra two years in a row, and ‘extreme sewing.’ If it wasn’t for Caz my record would be fine, probably.

If I had my own sewing machine I could make a pair of soft PJ’s. And lots of skirts (because how much easier can you get than a simple skirt - it’s pretty much sewing one seam down the side, right?!). Also pretty dresses that make me look like a lean and mean size 10. And simple shirts.

Then, once I’m awesome at sewing (because that would only take a week or two right? I pick new things up quite quickly), I could learn to screen print. And then people would come up to me and ask where I got all my clothes, and I’d tell them I made them myself. Then they’ll give me many hundreds of dollars.

And you know what that would mean? That would mean I no longer have to wait to win Lotto in order to retire, and own a house on a beach, with a horse, and a puppy. I could buy it all myself. All because I brought a sewing machine off TradeMe today. I’m going to do it.

Does anyone else get as excited as I do about New Post It Day? I mean sure It’s just a new brightly coloured post it pad, but it symbolises a world of note making opportunity.

I have 5 more notes to write on my old blue pad and then… NEW POST ITS! Fingers crossed it’s not migraine inducing pink.

Applying makeup. Also filing my nails, and considering a whiteout-based french mani.

Daydreaming about icecream.

Brushing my teeth. In the bathroom of course… Not at my desk. It’s still weird though.

Trying to break my own record for consecutive chair spinning. Wow am I dizzy.

Plotting how awesome my next job will be. Even though, technically, it does not exist.

Cutting up a pair of shoe inserts. Foamy foamy goodness.

Fitting a mouth guard. You know - the kind you sit in boiling water for three minutes and then hold in your mouth and bite down on. I was praying that the phone wouldn’t ring.