Queer Aesthetics

You know when you're trying to write about one thing, but you've got something else boiling under your skin? Yeah, that's what's happening with me at the moment. I'm trying to finish my final data chapter (!!!) but there's something else that is on my mind: aesthetics - and particularly lesbian/queer aesthetics.

This has been something I've been pondering for awhile, especially over the last six months, as I've come to the end of (or rather a pause in) a massive physical transformation and have been quite actively exploring what it means for me to be single and gay, and where I situate myself within the queer community.

To contextualise this: I only realised I was gay about 2 years ago, after breaking up with my first girlfriend. Since then, I have lost around 30kg. This was the result of a very intensive campaign to get fit and improve my health; it was never about being thin (something I have no desire to be). I have talked about my weight loss a lot on this blog, and I don't want to get into it again here. All that needs to be said about it here is that I reached a point where I was happy with my body, sick of spending all my time exercising, and annoyed that my clothes never fit me for more than a couple of months (that's all well and good when you can afford to buy new ones; I can't!); so my body transformation project has been put on the back burner for the time being. Over the past, erm, 8 months I've also been figuring out - for the first time - what it means to me to be gay and single. When I first came out I felt like my sexuality was contingent upon my relationship status. It wasn't until Lady Cop and I broke up (for the final time) that I started to explore life as a single lesbian; in a nutshell it's AWESOME!

When I first started dating women, I was quite insecure with myself, particularly about my appearance. Coming from heteroland, I felt that I did not have enough beauty capital to attract the kind of man I was attracted to, and I did not know if those same beauty dynamics would transfer over into the lesbian community. How would other women engage with my body, and how would I engage with their bodies? It has been completely fascinating for me to observe and experience a variety of queer aesthetics. Heteronormative beauty standards do not hold the same influence within the queer community - though they are not completely absent either - and while I have found that incredibly liberating, I have also discovered that queer aesthetics can be quite difficult to navigate.

For me, aesthetics are extremely important. They are important because they are about how I represent myself to others, and about how I interpret others. I think it's also really important to differentiate between aesthetics and looks/attractiveness, because while they are related, they are not the same things. I understand looks/attractiveness to be about how one measures up to some external standard of beauty. Looks/attractiveness is often quite a disempowering framework because it is quite narrowly defined, is always about comparison and conformity, and its standards are nearly impossible for most people to obtain. I understand aesthetics to be about how one expresses one's individuality. I would say that it involves developing a stylized version of one's self, though technically such a stylization could involve completely disengaging from the dictates of the fashion and beauty industries.

The reason I believe aesthetics are so important is because of their link to desire. And this is precisely why I find myself so fascinated by queer aesthetics; because they signal queer desire - often in complex and messy ways. Our aesthetic practices (generally) signal something about our personality to others: wearing gym clothes tells people you are interested in fitness; wearing a suit is a sign of power; high heels are a sign of femininity; and asymmetrical haircuts are, apparently, a sign of living in Melbourne's inner north. Queer aesthetics complicates this, because queer culture is about challenging binaries and finding new ways of being. Queer culture is further challenged by the fact that not everyone in the gay community is queer. This has meant, for me, that sometimes I am misread.

I suppose that being misread is part of the parcel of being queer; not everyone is going to get it and that is, after all, the point. Why I struggle with being misread is because I misread myself for so much of my life. Being heterosexual was an identity that never sat comfortably with me and ultimately made me very unhappy; I am eager to distance myself from it in as many ways as I can. I spent far too long passing for a heterosexual; I want my body to signal to myself - as much as to anyone else - that that is not who or what I am.

Since coming out, I have sought to make myself visibly 'queer'. Many of you are familiar with my quest to achieve appropriately 'lesbian' hair: in an effort to make my gayness immediately obvious, I have shaved off most of my hair. My hair certainly signals to the right people that I am gay, and as I joked before, that I live in the inner north. I have this desire to achieve an aesthetic that is unmistakeably queer; an aesthetic that is not linked to clothing, but is of my body. Tattoos are good for this, though  even the visible and aggressive ones have been appropriated by certain heterosexual aesthetics. At the moment I am experimenting with being a hairy lesbian, since body hair seems to be something straight women shy away from. The problem there is that I am ridiculously blonde, so even after months of growth my body hair is not immediately visible.

The reason that I, at times, am misread within the gay community is because there is a disconnect between what my aesthetic says about me, and how I actually am. You see, I like to wear dresses. I always have, and I reckon I always will. But I am not now, nor have I ever been, a 'girly girl'. If I had to sum myself up in four words, I'd probably go with: wears dresses, throws punches. The picture of me at my 4th birthday that I have on this blog I think demonstrates this divide nicely. Because of this, people often tell me that I should go for the rockabilly look. And while it's true that this style suits me remarkably well - it is a style that celebrates the hourglass figure - there are three reasons why I am not taking on a full time rockabilly aesthetic:

1. I have 'commitment issues'. I do not not want to be boxed in to any one way of being. I would get extremely bored if I only ever expressed myself in one particular way. Besides, my personality is far too all over the place to be contained by any one aesthetic.
2. The best thing about being poor has been that it's forced me to breakup with consumerism. I am a recovering shopaholic. I have found it so liberating to not be concerned about wearing the flashest clothes, and have found it incredibly empowering to experiment with fashion I can afford. As it turns out, if you wear your clothes well, it really doesn't matter that they came from Kmart and Savers.
3. While I enjoy the rockabilly aesthetic, I feel no particular connection to rockabilly culture. Largely because, from the outside looking in, rockabilly feels quite heteronormative to me. I know that there is a huge queer engagement with rockabilly, but, it strikes me as often reproducing the butch/femme dichotomy, which is something that I personally do not want to engage with. I consider my personality to be quite masculine, and while there is room for that within the rockabilly femme aesthetic, I don't know, it just doesn't sit well with me. Maybe that's unfair. It's based on a personal experience I had with a woman who - I think - expected me to act femme when I dressed femme. Which just made me want to act incredibly butch. Which made her not want to talk to me anymore. There's good reason for why I have a rep at my office for topping from the bottom!! Maybe I just need to come with a disclaimer...

Embodying a queer aesthetic is something of a moving target. What it means to be queer changes over time; what it means to me to be queer has changed over time. Which aesthetics are appropriated by the queer community change, and are gradually reappropriated by the hetero community (cuz we're the cool trend setters that move society forward). There is no permanence to queer aesthetics; it is always read as queer because of how it is situated within a particular socio-historical context. For instance, my struggle to have my personal aesthetics reconciled with my queer desires may be specific to the Melbourne scene. I wonder if I would still be read as femme if I was in Calgary, where there is a much more conservative aesthetic culture? I suppose in a few months I will find out!

Queer aesthetics are about pushing the boundaries of existing ways of being, and opening up space to become something new. Doing so involves inhabiting spaces where, as Cressida Heyes described it, one is - to some extent - unintelligible to others. I have not quite worked out how to signal my desires through my aesthetic: I am a masculine woman with feminine aesthetics who desires masculine women with masculine aesthetics. But this is part of the fun of being single: I get to experiment with my aesthetics and see who responds and how.

body love

And while it would be nice to have my self and my desires read correctly through my aesthetics, I find that having conversations with people tends to clear up any misinterpretations that may occur (if only everyone was as open to having such conversations as I am)! Besides, even if there was some aesthetic that did signal exactly who I am and what I want, desire is much too fluid to stay in any one place forever so any successfully occupied aesthetic is always going to be temporary anyways. Thank goodness I am finally happy just being me!

Midsumma Madness!

Well my lovely queers and heteros, another Midsumma has come to an end. And what a girlwind it was! From spending a week in the mountains with 30+ ladies, to hitting the clubs, to checking out the shows, to pashing some girls, to making new friends, to catching up with old friends, to marching with Pride... It's been a busy month!

First of all: drama camp was AWESOME! I had such a great time and met many, many amazing women. I also got to cook some insanely delicious food and be loved and adored for it. While hanging out in the mountains. I felt like I was being spoilt! I even managed to get some quality work done on my thesis, which, as you'll remember, was the whole point of me going on this trip!

Oh, and the best part: I finally got to make use of my valid Victorian driver's licence and drive someone's car!! It seems that leaving out the whole "I've never driven on the left before" thing is key. I didn't have to drive far, and it was on a small mountain road with very little traffic. I'm so used to traffic moving from the left here now that I thought I'd be fine to drive. But I was not prepared for all the signals and gears and stuff to be on opposite sides!! It was way more disorienting than I had anticipated. BUT, I am an entirely competent driver and we made the trip without issue AND I did a fabulous job parking upon our return. I waited a couple of days before informing the owner of said car that she'd inadvertently popped my driving in Australia cherry. ;)

Like most things I do, I had no idea what I had signed on for. Our days started early and ended late. There were three of us on the kitchen crew, and hubby proved to be not only a great cook but an efficient and organised leader. He planned the meals, I just chopped what I was told to chop, stirred what I was told to stir, set out food and plates and cutlery where I was told to set them out, and grilled some sausage when I was told to grill some sausage! (I seriously hope the sausage was not completely disgusting; turns out I still can't stomach the thought of eating beef.) What I did take charge of was the clean up crews. After every meal I supervised the clean up crews as they did all the actual work of scrubbing up all the mess we'd made in the kitchen throughout the day. I had so much fun with the clean up crews that I actually started applying for work as a dishwasher when I returned to Melbourne. (Alas, a career as a dishwasher does not appear to be in the cards for me: instead I'll be doing some data entry at ARCSHS.)

I didn't know what to expect from the girls, not being from a drama background myself. The vocal warm ups freaked me out, at first, but then I got used to them and even missed the chorus of weird squawking and chanting at 9am when camp was over. The singing I did not miss so much. It took me about 4 days to get the songs out of my head!! But otherwise, I was quite delighted to find that they were all friendly and curious about my thesis (although after having the same conversation for the 20th time I may have started to wish they weren't) and good eaters! We made a lot of food and very little went to waste! I ate like a freggin' king! I mean, being on the kitchen crew, we had to make sure everything was fit to be served...and sometimes we had to check more than once, you know, just to be sure.

Girls Do Gertrude was a double bill of Gertrude Stein plays. The idea was to go away to the mountains for a week of intensive rehearsals, then come back and put the plays on. One group rehearsed downstairs in the lodge, and the other rehearsed in the space beside the kitchen. So we got quite familiar with the goings on of that particular play. With the singing, and the circles... *ahem* The second play, however, was a total mystery to me. Except, every now and then we'd hear these blood curdling screams coming from downstairs. Often the screaming came when we were reaching the breaking point of hearing Ain't We Got Fun yet again, so I wasn't entirely sure if they were related to the play or not! ;) It was actually really cool to see the play come together over the course of the week, and to know that there was this whole other play happening that I'd get to be surprised by when it was all finished.

I went to see the show last weekend, though in a funny twist of events I actually ended up at Northcote Town Hall with a couple of friends to check out another Midsumma event earlier in the week, and ran into the girls after their show. That was quite fun! Anyways, I went to see the show on Saturday and I of course had to get dressed up for it! 1920s style! I just so happened to have the perfect outfit lying around for the occasion. I even broke out the iron for it!

From what I'd seen in the rehearsal week I figured the plays were going to be good, but honestly, they were so much better than I expected! The first one, A Circular Play, was really witty and fun - and the costumes were incredible! I don't really know how to describe it, other than that it gave me a whole new appreciation for the art of acting. And directing! And the difficulty in learning the words to a song! The second play, Three Sisters Who Are Not Sisters, was amazing! It was a play repeated three times, each time a bit differently, and each time I got something different from it. It had this incredibly fun opening part where the girls were all being little kids playing and their play turns violent. It was dark and twisted, and yes, the screaming was part of the play. I have a new found appreciation for theatre after that week!

There is much more that I could update on, but I don't want to sit at my computer forever. So to do a quick summary: I have reached exciting new depths of poverty. It's been an interesting experience to have so little money to see me through the month. I've agreed to let hubby cut my hair for free, which he did last week...with his beard clippers and some kinda dull scissors. He actually did a rather amazing job, and may possibly be able to turn a small profit on offering niche market lesbian haircuts. I'm also on this exciting new diet called eating what other people give me for free! It is supplemented by another diet called eating food I can get for cheap. The health nut in my cringes at this, but the social scientist in me sees this as an interesting new experiment and is excited to see where it leads. Meanwhile, the student in me says as long as there is money for coffee and beer, I've got nothing to worry about.

I started my classes with the Women's Circus last week. That is quickly shaping up to be the most fun I have ever had, and possibly will ever have, in my life! My trainers are fantabulous, the women in my class are awesome, AND I get to learn cool tricks that involve me looking like I'm ridiculously strong. My guns aren't too shabby, but I'm not quite at llama status yet!

Now that Midsumma is over, I'm under official lock down to get my thesis over and done with! I've only got six more months to go, and a mountain to climb in that time. It can be done, but it ain't gonna be easy! I just have to keep reminding myself that the sooner I get my first draft completed, the sooner I can get the tattoo I've been planning for the past two years! I may barely be able to afford groceries, rent, or electricity, but I'm saving up my pennies for that next tattoo. There's no fucking way I'm completing that draft only to find out I don't actually have the money to afford the ink!!!

Until next time...wish me adventures!

You Know You're A Grad Student When...

Last night I had condiments for dinner.

Condiments.

I shit you not.

It wasn't even intentional, it just...happened. And I didn't even realize I was doing it until I broke into some of the more obscure condiments in my cupboard.

Yes, money is tight right now, but it's not that tight. Well, OK, it is. You see, I am not completely out but coming close to being out of groceries and as I'm about to go away to drama camp (I'll get to that) for a week, I'd like to avoid grocery shopping if I can! Last night I was down to the weird odds and ends, and I decided not to break into the nicer stuff because I had chicken in the freezer I could defrost and cook another day. All that left me with was some moldy bread that was getting to the point where I couldn't just keep cutting the moldy bits off, and tortillas. And condiments.

It started off innocently enough. I decided to throw out the moldy bread and make myself a couple of peanut butter and banana tortilla wraps. After which, I was still peckish and only had a couple of tortillas left. Surely I had something I could spread over them? I poked around my cupboard and what did I come up with? Sweet and sour sauce. It wasn't until I plopped the sweet and sour sauce onto the tortilla that the absurdity of what I was doing struck me. And no, it was not delicious. It was weird. And messy. I got sweet and sour sauce on my shirt. After that debacle I figured I must have something better in the fridge. And you know what I had a shitload of in there? Cream cheese. Yeah. I had a tortilla with sweet and sour sauce for dinner last night when I had a perfectly good container of cream cheese sitting in my fridge.

And that, my friends, is what's called thesis brain.

So, drama camp! You know how I've taken to saying yes to all sorts of random things? This would be one of those things. Clearly. Because me and the performing arts...yeah, no. You know what else is a big yeah, no for me? Food services. So guess what I'm doing on drama camp? Oh yeah!

This all came about because of Hubby. I knew about the performing arts stuff, but apparently he's got this whole food services history too. One of his friends is directing a play for Midsumma (Girls Do Gertrude, check it out) and he has been "recruited" to be the chef for their rehearsal week out in the mountains. Now, there's this weird dynamic to my relationship with Hubby where I pretty much do whatever he says. I don't understand it, but there you go. He says run a 10k, I run a 10k. He says come out clubbing, I go out clubbing. He says come out to the mountains and help me cater a drama camp, I go out to the mountains and help him cater a drama camp. It seems the only thing I've said no to was his marriage proposal. Funny side note, that makes him the only man who's marriage proposal I've actually turned down!

So after Carnival on Sunday I'll be off in the mountains with a bunch of performing arts peeps, cooking and possibly doing various other odds and ends jobs. It was suggested that if I play a musical instrument I could be in the show, but I don't think it's the kind of show where they're taking the piss out of themselves so I think my particular musical talents will go unused this time around. I am, however, open to being the Twitter bitch, and will hopefully knock out a few interesting blog entries while I'm there. Oh yeah, and like, write my third data chapter. I do remember this originally being sold to me as a free study vacation...

The Kissing Year

And just like that, 2011 comes to an end. I didn't see the beauty in this last night, but I wore the same dress this NYE as the one I wore to that little karaoke bar in Kona last year. I ended the year in the same outfit that I started the year in. Only this time I didn't pour beer down my front.

2011 was - from start to finish - one of the best years of my life. There were bad parts to it, but the hard stuff is what makes us stronger, and I learned and grew from my experiences. I've found myself feeling a bit sad as this year has come to a close. As if the year ending means all the awesomeness 2011 brought me will end too. It's a silly attitude - and I'll get to that - but as the clock got closer and closer to midnight, I found myself feeling more and more closed off.

When midnight struck I was sitting on the deck at a friend's place, surrounded by a small group of women - some of whom I'd just met, others that I know very well. We lit sparklers and laughed. And I decided to stop being silly and start enjoying myself.

You know why 2011 was such an incredible year for me? Because as I rung it in, I made up my mind that I was going to make it an incredible year. It was a resolution in the truest sense: it was a mission statement. No matter how crap I was feeling, I kept on living my life. I kept doing things to make my life - in some way - better. The awesomeness of 2011 wasn't some magic cast upon me by that bar in Kona or the electromagnetic fields of mantra rays; I made it happen for myself. There's no reason I can't do the same for 2012.

2011 was a lot of things for me, but more than anything else, it was the year of friendship. Not only did I meet a lot of incredible new people who I consider to be absolute blessings in my life, but I've developed some truly wonderful friendships with people who were already in my life. I am in absolute awe over how amazing the people in my life are. The bar has been raised! I no longer allow shitty people into my life, and I encourage others to do the same (even if that means kicking me out of your life - which I know for at least one person it has).

I've had a lot of down time over the holidays - my family being far away and all my friends pretty much being busy with family of their own. So I've had a lot of time to think and reflect on my life and what I want from it. I got a good thing going for myself over 2011, and I'm eager for that to continue. But there's always ways to improve upon something, so how can I take things up a notch in 2012? The answer came to me as I exchanged New Years texts with one of my awesome friends: 2012 is the kissing year! Tell your friends!

Several people in my life have said "Nah, 2012 is the year of writing." But - and I'm sorry - that is stupid! All the people who said that are writers. You can't declare a year the year of your job! Even if your job is something that involves some degree of starving artistry. Just, no! You can still work on your writing and have all those achievements while enjoying some sweet kissin' action. And honestly, who on earth would say no to kissing for the sake of writing? Priorities, people, please!

I absolutely love kissing. It's the best thing about a new romance. The saddest thing to me is when a relationship reaches that point where the kissing just kinda stops. Why do we always stop when it's the nicest part? It's ridiculous! So I guess that is my resolution for 2012: to not stop kissing!

As Coach and I made our way to Thornbury to start our respective evenings at a friend's BBQ, I explained to her about how 2012 is the kissing year. She was less than enthusiastic about this - having just gone through a breakup (side note: if ever there was a reason to get your kiss on, that is it! That is actually a major finding from my research, so, doctor's orders!) - but I wasn't letting up on the idea so she proposed that I needed some ground rules:

1. Ladies Only, Gentlemen Forbidden.
2. It doesn't have to involve tongue, but it does have to be a proper kiss. A quick peck on the lips is not a proper kiss.
3. If it's a year of kissing I'm after, I've got to kiss 52 women; one for each week.

This last rule is rather daunting! 52 is a lot of women! I feel like that is asking for mono (or rabies... given I've just finished reading Chuck Palahniuk's book Rant). I only kissed 3 people in 2011 (and yes, there is a rather disturbing picture on my phone that suggests a fourth, but that doesn't count!). I'm really quite happy with the level and quality of kissing that I experienced in 2011. I have some good 2011 kissing stories, but I'm not telling them on my blog! Though I will share some of my other kissing stories with you...and if I go through with this kissing year business, the women of 2012 will probably not get that same level of privacy!

It's an interesting challenge. There are some kissing related circumstances that are preventing me from committing to going forward with this challenge at this time (I did not kiss anyone at midnight, so as of yet the kissing year is entirely theoretical), but should I go forward with Coach's particular set of rules, I have some game plans for how to get to 52 in a year.

Have I told you the story of the first time I kissed a girl? I was 21 and out with a totally awesome friend at a monthly 'fetish' night at the local gay club. Actually, the very first time I kissed a girl I was 13, but that's the story of how I came to be a heterosexual - so a story for another time! Anyways, I was at this club with my friend and this girl comes up to us and says: "I'm trying to see how many girls I can get to kiss me tonight. Would you like to help me out?" My friend agrees, they make out for a bit, and then my friend writes her name on this girl's arm so she can keep tabs. And then it was my turn...

So I'd spent the last 8 years actively repressing my homosexuality, and along comes some random girl who offers me a totally innocent, no strings, opportunity to do something I was secretly dying to do. To say I was excited is an understatement! Well, Katy Perry, I kissed that girl and I liked it! A lot. Better than any kiss I'd ever had before. I had absolutely zero interest in stopping kissing her, though when I realized that I freaked myself out and did stop. I have no idea who that girl was, but I am eternally grateful to her and whoever was behind her kissing challenge. Thank you for showing me how awesome and  totally OK it is to kiss girls!

I wonder how close to 52 that strategy would get me? Especially if I was to do it while I'm in Sydney for Mardi Gras...


Pucker up ladies!



Christmas KABOOM!

Merry Christmas everyone!!!

Much to my surprise, this is actually my fourth Christmas in Melbourne. I'm always surprised at how long I've been living here now. I remember when I first got here, the new Royal Children's Hospital was just starting to be built and was set to open in 2011. I thought that opening day was a lifetime away, but the Queen was just here the other month to officially open it's doors.

I also remember when I first moved here being told what I believed to be a tall story about how one year it snowed in Melbourne on Christmas Day. Yeah, right! It doesn't snow here in winter; there's no way it would snow in summer! Perhaps not, but if you look at some of the pictures of Melbourne this afternoon you wouldn't know it! Apparently someone decided to take one of the polar ice caps and just chuck it down on Melbourne. That's certainly what it sounded like in my apartment earlier anyways! There were some pretty big chunks coming down; unfortunately, as I live in a concrete jungle most of those big chunks broke up into smaller chunks as they hit the ground, so my pictures don't do the storm justice.

I've managed to do pretty well over the past four years, developing a community and a family away from my family. But this was the first year that I found myself without Christmas plans. Well, 'found myself' is a bit deceiving - it was a bit more deliberate than that.

My first Christmas here I was invited to spend the day with the family of a woman from my uni, who is now one of my thesis supervisors. It was a really nice Christmas, and I ended up staying overnight and for a good part of Boxing Day too! My second Christmas I made plans to have an 'orphan's Christmas' with a friend who was not able make it up to Sydney to see her family. We had a picnic lunch in Carlton Gardens and it ended up just being a really lovely afternoon. My third Christmas here my original plans *ahem* fell through, but I was taken in by my first flatmate - who is something of a big sister to me (though a very absentee one at the moment, for she seems to have disappeared off the earth). That Christmas ended up being really enjoyable and relaxing; though it helped that the next morning I was boarding a plane to Hawaii.

This year I thought I'd just see what the various people in my life were up to and just let whatever happened happen. And what happened is that most people I know here weren't orphaned for Christmas this year. Now, I'm sure that if I'd really wanted to I could have gotten myself invited over for someone's Christmas lunch. But I didn't want to. I wish I could be spending Christmas with my family this year, but that's just not possible - and spending it with someone else's family really just isn't all that appealing. When I realized I was facing Christmas alone - unless I started making the rounds with my best puppy dog eyes - I instead decided to embrace having the day to myself. And I'm glad that I did!

While I absolutely love Christmas in summer, it has a habit of sneaking up on me without me really realising. Especially since my family is so far away, so I don't have any of that prep work and planning to deal with. I put up some decorations around the apartment last week, and yesterday I broke out the Christmas music and baked a mountain of ginger snap cookies.

It was hot with humidity yesterday, and me having the oven on in our tiny apartment all afternoon was not exactly making either of us more comfortable. But, I had the tunes blaring and was singing and dancing along like, well, someone on a crazy sugar high, so I didn't mind the heat. I don't really know what the point of me making all these cookies was, given that nobody's really around to share them with. I made Coach take a bag of them with her this morning, but I've still got a mountain of them! A delicious, sugary, mountain...

Christmas is a time for watching movies, so once the cookies were finished Coach and I sat down and watched In America, which is not a Christmas movie, but has that same sentiment and is much more beautiful than probably any Christmas movie I've ever seen (though I've never see It's a Beautiful Life or whatever it's called).

Now, I have this Christmas tradition where I do not sleep at all on Christmas Eve. I actually out grew this a good ten years ago, but by that point I'd trained my family to be woken up at some ungodly hour so well that none of them are able to sleep past 6am and I hardly got any sleep anyways. True to form, I had trouble sleeping last night. I woke up a bit before 4am and went online for a bit - my Mom actually emailed me shortly after 4am to ask if I was up yet, which made me laugh. I did manage to fall back asleep though, to the sounds of low, grumbly thunder and dense rain on the tin roof. I didn't get up until 8:30, and was pretty dazed to find Coach already up and about - usually I've got heaps of time to wake up before I interact with anyone!

I made myself a coffee with eggnog in my special Christmas coffee mug (which, yes, I did bring out from Canada with me), waved off Coach and her brother, then got my computer up and called my Mom on Skype. There was some family over when I called, so I talked to all of them for a bit but it was too crazy so Mom said she'd call me back, and I went and got dressed, made breakfast, and put together a massive fruit salad for my picnic that afternoon. I talked to Mom for an hour, then let her go so I could get on with my own adventures before the severe weather warning came into effect.

I packed up my picnic basket, grabbed Greta, and headed off! I didn't really have a destination in mind; I just wanted to ride around and get some more practice while the roads were pretty empty. I decided I'd check out the Upfield bike path, since it kinda scares me and is the closest bike path to me. Turns out it connects with the Capital City Trail I normally ride on, so it's not actually that necessary for me to use it if I'm going south. Since I was on the Capital City Trail, I figured I'd head east and see what lay beyond Nicholson Street - the furthest I'd ever gone on that path. Pretty soon I was riding along the streets of North Fitzroy, which is handy to know. Or will be handy to know when I get comfortable with riding at night!

I got a bit turned around when I found myself at Rundall Station, which lead to me getting some experience with roundabouts! Ah, remember the days when I could only ride in a straight line? So much has changed since then! I made my way onto the Merri Creek bike trail and decided to head north and gradually make my way home. Again, I got confused about where the bike path was, so I went up St. George's Road...further than I needed to! And that's when it started to really rain. So I pulled over into Batman Park (not that Batman) and took refuge under a tree until the rain died down. It seemed as good a place as any for a picnic, and certainly at least the old man hanging out by the toilets drinking seemed to agree. I was going to offer him some of my cookies, but he was keeping a respectful distance and I decided I didn't really want to strick up a conversation with a random old man drinking out of a suitcase in a park on his own on Christmas Day.

The rain didn't last too long, and once it cleared up I made my way westward. I'd used my picnic time to look up a map on my phone and saw that if I continued down the street I was on I'd reconnect with the Merri Creek bike path again, so that's what I did. By this point the sun was out and it was getting nice and hot. Merri Creek is really pretty, so I decided to ride along it just a little bit more than I needed to to get home and take some pictures.

I made my way back home along the roads, which were empty. I even rode through all the intersections this time - though I'm still not sure how confident I'd be to do that with cars driving alongside me. Some people are idiots, and I don't really fancy putting myself at their mercy. I'm all about taking sensible risks. Like, I've realised my life will be a lot easier when I learn to stand up while cycling. So I spent some time this afternoon practicing. I can now stand up while I'm gliding, and it won't be much longer before I'm peddling as well.

Greta and I had a great time riding around the city. We were out for 2 hours, riding for most of it! I am becoming completely addicted to bike riding - figures! Once the crazy storms let up I think I'll figure out the best route into the city so that I can start riding into uni, seeing as that was the whole point of me buying a bike. Though given my adventures today and going to the gym yesterday, I may not be able to move for the next couple of days!! Ah well, not much stops me these days. I wanted to go out again this afternoon, but when I realised the weather warning was serious I changed my mind and watched Fargo for the first time instead (also an appropriate non-Christmas Christmassy movie, it it's way).

I hope you all have a lovely Christmas, and that you get to spend it doing the things that you want to do.

1001 Reasons

There's always 1001 reasons not to do something...

It's no secret that I've been on a pretty massive journey of self discovery and self transformation as of late. Over the past few months though, I've felt like all the 'theory' has been coming into practice. I've been trying to think about how to phrase it, and as I was confidently riding Greta home from a little trip to Carlton, I came up with it! But I will get to that.

I've been trying to really actively do new things and say yes to new experiences lately. It's involved a lot of listening to myself and taking chances. The events of the past few months have made me realise that you just never know what's going to happen in life, so you'd better make the most of it while you can. And so I have been!

Doing new things sounds simple enough, but the thing is, people are really great at talking themselves out of doing stuff. There's always 1001 reasons not to do something, so if you are going to do something new, the first step is to stop looking at the reasons (excuses) not to.

For instance, for awhile now I've been walking half way to/from uni through North Melbourne. It's a beautiful walk and I find it very relaxing. At the end of a stressful day it's a great way to unwind. At the start of the day it's a great way to just take some time for myself. Since doing the 10k for the Melbourne Marathon, I haven't had much motivation to run. I've gone for a handful of runs in the park, but without something to train towards, pushing through the pain and boredom of running in circles isn't the most appealing option. I often do things out of a curiosity to see what I am capable of, but even that was not be motivation for me; after all, I went from never running in June to running a 10k in October, I'm pretty freggin' capable!

Often on my walks I thought that it would be perfect to run home from uni. It's about 6k, the first half through North Melbourne, the second half through Royal Park. The problem was, there was 1001 reasons for me not to: I have a ton of books to carry home from uni, I'd have to change my clothes, it's getting really hot out, etc etc etc. To my credit, I was working out solutions to these problems. But it still involved me putting the actual running off for some other day.

And then, a couple weeks ago, I just said fuck it. You wanna run home from uni, just make it happen. So I did! I have been playing social netball Wednesdays at lunch (if you don't know what netball is, neither do I, and all I can tell you about it is that it is the most absurd sport I've ever seen) so I was already bringing in my running gear on those days. And surely I could just leave the books at home for one night? All I really needed was my phone, my wallet and my keys, and I have a bum bag for running with those anyways.

So, a couple Wednesdays ago, I just did it! I had thought that the run was going to be mostly downhill - it's not. The first time I did it was killer. Turns out, there's a big difference between going for a run first thing in the morning in October and going for a run in the late afternoon in December - a 10-15 degree difference!! By the time I get home I'm drenched in sweat and exhausted. But it feels so good to just have a cold shower, pop on my pajamas, and spend the evening relaxing. It turns out, all those reasons not to do it were pretty insignificant. I've run home twice now, and the second time was much better. It's a really good challenge, and it's practical, so I plan to continue doing this once a week - provided it's not too hot. Sometimes reasons not to do something AREN'T excuses!!

Another big new thing that I've been up to is riding Greta. We've been getting along much, much better as of late. Over the weekend I went for a bike ride with my new friend - whom I shall refer to as Trouble - and her bike, Sabina. Sabina and Greta really hit it off, and I know Greta is excited to go play with her again! :) Trouble and I have also really hit it off, but that's another story for another time and probably another place!

Since I'm feeling more confident, I've been wanting to just get out and ride places more. Now that I'm on Christmas holidays, I figured I'd ride down to Carlton today and do a bit of shopping. I was nervous about going that far, but determined to just do it. I also wanted to ride on the road for a change, get a bit more practice riding in traffic. So this afternoon I got my stuff together and went to get Greta. I'd had some problems with her tyres over the weekend, and when I checked the back one, it was completely flat. Turns out, I'd split the tube!

At first this sent me into quite the panic. I don't know anything about bikes and I had no idea what would be involved in fixing this problem. I was upset because both my plans for that afternoon and my plans for Christmas Day were suddenly changed. But after sending a few frantic text messages, Hubby came through and advised me it was something that was easily fixed. So I took Greta down the the bike shop around the corner and $20 later, good as new!

And so off I went! I rode along the street until I got to the bike path, then took the bike path through Royal Park to the zoo, rode around the zoo, then popped out a side street and made my way along the Melbourne Cemetary, where I rather randomly ran into one of my friends from uni! All of this was new to me: I'd never been down these paths before, I didn't know what to expect around the next corner. And while I was nervous about it, this is where that shift comes in:

It's not about having confidence in my ability to do something, but having confidence in my ability to be OK if things go wrong.

I'm still a beginner at riding a bike, and I know that sometimes I'll get freaked out or lose control. But by trusting that I can manage whatever comes up along the way, I can just get on with living my life. Whatever happens, I can deal. Knowing this has made me much calmer about, well, everything. It makes saying yes to new experiences a lot easier, given that I'm not worrying about what might go wrong along the way (within reason, obviously).

My ride with Greta today ended up being really great! It didn't take very long to get down to Carlton, and it didn't take long to get home either. I took a different route home, riding up Rathdowne St to Capital Trail. I rode on the street, along side the cars, stopping and starting at the traffic lights. And I was fine! Not only that, but when I got to Park St, the Taco Truck was set up and people were wandering down to have a picnic along the bike path. So I rode over, parked Greta, and bought myself a chicken taco - which was pretty darn tasty! Afterwards I continued on the bike path, and I was actually able to make it all the way up the steep hill that every other time I've gone on I've had to stop and walk part way up. I didn't actually have to stop at any point, and was able to weave my way between pedestrians, oncoming bikes, and road traffic without incident. I'm feeling pretty darn confident to ride all over town now!

After all, whatever happens along the way, I'll deal.

Conquering Greta

When I was a little kid, I used to ski. I was pretty good at it too, lending support to the stereotype I've come across in Australia that Canadian children are born with skis on their feet. We're not born with skis on our feet; it's just, when it's winter 8 months of the year and you live beside the mountains, skiing's what you do! You spend enough time with skis on your feet, you're bound to develop some skill.

So after a few seasons, I was pretty good. I could go off on my own on the easier trails, and I could do some of the harder ones too if I had an adult with me. I was on my way to skiing become a lifestyle when suddenly I found myself wrapped around a tree. It was so bizarre! One minute I was speeding down the slope, turning to stop at the halfway point on the hill, and win the race I was having against my Dad and Pat (who was only 5 and just learning to ski). Then next minute I was staring up at the ski, wondering why I was staring up at the ski and who was crying. Twenty years later I still don't have any memory of what happened between starting that turn and lying on the ground. I hit that tree so hard that it wiped what I assume was a couple of minutes of my life clean from my memory.

That's the kind of thing that sticks with you - not the memory of it, obviously, but the experience. It wasn't until I started learning to ride a bike that I realized just how much that experience has stuck with me; how much fear it has given me.

I never did get back into skiing after that. I remember going cross country skiing on a Girl Guide's trip one time and making some progress then. I had really enjoyed cross country skiing, and eager to get me back on track to a skiing lifestyle my Dad bought me a pair of cross country skiis for Christmas. Unfortunately, whatever progress I had made was quickly undone. While everyone else was off ice staking at McKenzie Lake, I was trying out my new skis. Everything was fine, until I found myself on top of a mid-sized hill not too far off from the frozen lake. Rationally I knew I could ski down the hill and be OK; even if I felt like I lost control, there weren't any trees and I knew all I had to do to stop was fall over. It didn't matter; I was frozen with panic at the top of that hill. I actually had to take my skis off and walk down the hill. I don't think I ever put them on again.

Since buying Greta, it's taken me awhile to actually get out and get riding. I needed someone to help me, and finding someone to do this was easier said than done. But, when my new flatmate (who I will affectionately call Coach) moved in, she was really keen to get me riding. So one sunny Friday afternoon we headed out to one of the nearby parks and my riding lessons began. Coach would hold on as I peddled, helping to correct me and running alongside me...and more than occasionally would get run into by me. Gradually I improved. She didn't need to correct me so much, or hold on quiet so much.

I remember the first time Coach let go: I had been doing pretty good with her only lightly holding on, so she let go. I knew she'd let go and I panicked. I actually froze up. And moments later came to a crashing stop. I'd had this flashback to my skiing accident, to being completely unable to control wrapping myself around a tree. I'm pretty sure that first time on Greta I very nearly wrapped myself around a fence!

That fear of losing control runs deep. So deep that I hadn't even noticed it was there. It wasn't until Coach let go and I realized I really had no idea what I was doing that the fear leapt up from its depths. And I was terrified. But I knew, I absolutely knew that I had to keep going. After a quick debriefing with Coach we agreed to try again, and that she would not let go this time out, even if I was doing really well. With that comfortably in mind, I was able to keep going and the terror subsided.

It actually took quite a long time before I was able to let Coach let go. We always negotiated if she would be letting go or not, and I always felt confident in my ability to stop the bike, or at least fall off the bike, with a minimum of injury to myself should I need to. The trust was there, both in her promise to hold on for as long as I needed and in my ability to be OK when she did let go. But even still, it was easier said than done. The next time Coach let go, she also stopped running beside me. I was riding perfectly fine, but when I realized that she wasn't right there beside me, I just froze up and crashed into the fence. Again. So we debriefed again and she agreed to continue running beside me while I got used to being on my own. Even though by this point we were both well aware that she was much better off being far, far away from me and Greta when I crashed into something!! That's friendship!

About a week after running the 10k, once I'd had my 'recovery' period, we headed out again! This time, Coach would help me get started, but then I would be riding on my own. We practiced on a paved footpath that runs beside a soccer field. Along the narrow side of the soccer field. My goal was to ride to one side and back without crashing. I was getting closer and closer; but still having a few too many close calls with the fence. Then, finally, I did it!! I made it to from one side to another without crashing!!! Now it was time for my triumphant return.

The funny thing about losing control is that if you just surrender to it, you'll be OK. Instinct takes over, and either you recover or you minimize the damage you're about to cause to yourself. I know this! I practice this! Many, many times when I've been horseback riding or walking on a slippery path, I have had that moment of realization that I have lost control, and I have just let it happen, and fallen with grace. Every time that I have surrendered to that loss of control, I've come out OK. Every.Time. And yet, sometimes when I sense I am losing control, I fight it. I fight it and I rail against it, and I make the situation a lot worse. And that is what happened upon my triumphant return.

I had almost made it to the end of the path when I started to tip over. I tried to straighten up, but then I just went too far over to the other side. Again, I tried to correct myself, and... wound up lodging Greta onto my leg. I lay on the path on my side, one leg on top of the other, with my top leg stuck between Greta's tyres. Coach had to come over and literally pry Greta off of me. Here's a picture of my bruises the morning after!

And a week later...

It's been 3 weeks now, and that big one on my calf is nearly gone. The others are gone, and been replaced by a few new ones. I got back on Greta after that rather spectacular stack. I had to lay on the ground in agony for a bit first, then walk it off, but I got back on and eventually did make it to one side of the field and back again.

My legs were pretty freggin' sore after that crash, so I wasn't super keen to go out riding again. But on Saturday Coach and I headed out to the park for one more round. This time I was going to work on turning and she was only going to help me with getting going. As it turned out, I didn't need her to help me at all! I hopped on Greta and took off all on my own!

I was glad to have Coach there, even if she was only there for the moral support. And to take pictures!! Which she did with aplomb. I still had a bit of trouble getting going (as in I'd nearly topple over trying to get my balance), and stopping in time was a bit dicey, and my turning left a lot to be desired. But I was riding all on my own and building up my confidence! And developing all sorts of calluses on my palms from my death grip on the handle bars.

The death grip is starting to lessen now though. Slowly, slowly. After my success on Saturday I felt confident to go out on my own. In fact, as we headed back to the apartment to enjoy our celebratory oversized beers, I decided to ride through the other park, instead of walking my bike back like I normally would. And I just took off!

Since Saturday I've been out riding on my own twice. The first time was Monday evening. There were lots of people and dogs in the park, so I was absolutely drenched in terror sweat as I tried not to run into anyone (and thereby nearly ran into everyone). There's these bridges in the park, and they just go over little dips, but going over the edge of the bridge on a bike would do some serious damage! Every time I had to go over a bridge, I panicked. One bridge in particular, for some reason, I continually crashed into and had close calls on. I don't know why. But every time, I made myself keep riding over it.

I went for another ride today, earlier in the afternoon when fewer people were around. I did great!! I didn't crash into anything. I still freaked out going over the bridges, but I was a lot calmer and therefore didn't have any close calls! I had a goal to do 3 laps of the park without crashing, and then I can go play in traffic. I did that today, but given that the park was pretty much empty, I think I need to do it again when it's busier. But it certainly won't be long before I'm actually going places! I now just need to build up my confidence to ride in a straight line...then I can go play in traffic!