Friday, July 29, 2011

Creep

Saturday, July 16, 2011

A rose by any other name

I'm pretty sure the word "boyfriend" can be used as a synonym for the following words: best friend, cheerleader (cheerleaders can be male too), supporter, comedian, compadre, baking partner, travel companion, shrink, band mate, business advisor and confidant.

Okay... I'll shut up now because you probably just threw up in your mouth a little.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Weird things that you learn as a rich kid that serve no purpose in real life...

How to fly a 2-seater aeroplane.

How to ride a horse.

How to remove expensive books from a book shelf "correctly". (You have to push both books on either side in first, then extract out the chosen book with two hands.)

How to hand make paper.

How to play the piano.

How to gesso a canvas.

How to eat a lobster with the correct utensils.



... if only my parents taught me how to change a car tyre or how to cook a tomato. I can't do either.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Freelancing isn't so freeing

I've been incredibly lucky that I have managed to pick up a shit load of freelancing writing, publicity and marketing jobs over the past month. I seriously never thought I could actual find that many jobs (a few once-offs and two continually) on top of the writing I do for my blog, but I have some very lovely friends who spammed my resume out to friends and small businesses in need of help.

Hurray for money. I get paid to sit in my home office, bunny in lap, drinking chai teas while hammering away press releases. Writing shit on Facebook is part of my job. I can sleep in. I get to work in my jammies. There's no commute to work. My hourly rate is the highest it has ever been. I have all this spare time to do all the things I always said I wanted to do but didn't have the time to do (e.g. learn how to knit, do swing dancing classes, start jogging, write more songs).

But... I think I'm getting cabin fever and now I'm going to sleep at 4am and waking up at 2pm. I think I need to go and invest in a fancy espresso maker and a huge arse alarm clock. I can take that off my taxes as expenses, right?

Shhh...

I've been having lots of ups and downs lately (to the couple of haters who read my blog, go enjoy a moment of
schadenfreude on the house) and have been trying to largely keep this off my Facebook and Twitter. Can't say that I have been completely successful at this attempt at self-imposed censorship, but I've posted a lot less than normal about big events in my life.

The problem is that it is bad social media etiquette to flood people's news feeds with vague, depressing, please-kill-me-now-I-hate-everything posts... But then again, if I post about the super-awesome things that happen to me I also feel like a wanker. And then that whole issue where I must possess some strange writing skills because a lot of people misinterpret my statuses and tweets as veiled insults to them when I am really not.

I now get why celebrities hire publicists.