Apologies if anyone is subscribed to website updates, this year I’m going through my old websites and importing old blog posts, adding them to this site, so there will occasionally be notifications that posts have been added but it’s really old stuff.
I fell in love with the album edit (Blastoma edit), but while looking it up to link it, I found this live version that is just gorgeous too. <3
P.s. I love you, Triple J.
P.p.s. Bonus beautiful music, because I got a-browsin’ on the Triple J videos.
I don’t know how much ambition I should have. I used to feel like a cool kid, walking into my super cool workplace and working with cool brands and getting paid well and still having a good work/life balance . . . I used to read stuff like Lean In and mentally punch the air, “Yeah! I’m not gonna step back in ambition if I have babies! I’m not gonna start pulling away from work when I haven’t even started maternity leave! I will remember to still push for a promotion before I leave, and go on a high note, so that I can jump back in – after a baby – more advanced!”
Then I realised I didn’t like the work I was doing. And I quit and started freelancing, and as a freelancer, there wasn’t a way to “lean in,” and there weren’t any promotions available. And I got pregnant and had the baby and experienced an astounding lifestyle shock and I thought, “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t have this baby straight after that fast-paced full-time work. I’m glad I gradually slowed down. My lifestyle shock could have been so much worse.”
And then I spent my days looking after the baby, and with my family – mum, dad, brother, sister – and with my partner/best friend in the mornings/evenings/weekends – doing the simplest of things: sitting in the back garden, in the sun, having long talks; sharing meals together; playing games together; walking to the library and the park and spending time outside together – and I thought, “Some people get to retirement and finally slow down enough to do all this, and they say: ‘It’s so dumb that we do this when we’re old.’ I feel so lucky being able to experience this slow-down, this miniature retirement, in the middle of my life.”
And then I wonder, so how ambitious do I feel now? I see desperate requests at the community centre and the toy library (both are fantastic organisations) for leaders, committee members, and volunteers, and I think, “I could do a really good job with that,” but also, “Oh no you don’t! I don’t want to fall into that trap – it’s a role that the community needs, but it’s the type of role that women get sucked into after becoming mums, and they get paid nothing (which isn’t on), and loads of other people could be doing a good job with that and feel passionate about it, whereas I feel like I could potentially put myself to use doing something those people wouldn’t/couldn’t do.”
So then I’m working on a small business idea and I wonder, “Am I thinking too small with this? Am I just scared and too intimidated to think big?” And I listen to a Creative Mornings podcast with the guest Sarah Hernholm, who talks about doing “whatever it takes” – to make a difference, to make something happen, to make a big dream come true – and I think again about my small business idea: “Gosh, I am so not doing ‘whatever it takes’! I’m not putting my all into this. I’m treating it casually, like a side project. Why? – Because I’m afraid of failing? Because I don’t want to lose money on it? Because I don’t even know how much I believe in the idea? Because I’m scared of negativity and meanness? Because I’m lazy? Why?”
. . . I don’t know. So far I have only spent about $100 (and a lot of my time, and my business partner’s time) to get the MVP out the door. I do feel like I’m holding myself back.
Another comment in the podcast was: Who do you spend your time with? Are they people who encourage you or dissuade you? (Paraphrased.)
It’s a prompt I’ve read a bunch of times before – that, and the concept of needing to find your “tribe” or find your peers – the people who have the same values and similar goals as you, who will support, encourage and inspire you.
And I wonder . . . I wonder if I could find more people who are striving for something more. If I was surrounded by them, would I be more “all in”? Could I get to a point where I feel like I’m putting something on the line for this? All of my side projects have been low risk. Is it just my personality to make them low risk? Is it just smart and practical to make them low risk? (At least at the beginning!) Where do I find people who want something more, to try out my theory? Question mark? Are you my real mother? Who framed Roger Rabbit? Ssshhh.
I was writing in my journal on one of my soveryprecious mornings off (making the decision about where to go for a coffee and some people-watching was overwhelming, so I chose a local place that is crazy expensive but has gorgeous interior design) and every now and then, I looked up at the people around me. Two beautiful women came in, and took a table opposite.
The woman on the left held her newborn. She looked Asian-Australian, although I am very stupid when it comes to describing what people look like; maybe she was Polynesian. Or Brazilian. I am ignorant and stupid. Anyway – there are little things that tell you a person is wealthy – immaculate grooming, tailored clothes, shoes that are a bit unusual but well-made. She had those things.
The woman on the right looked French. The hair said French, the red lipstick said French, the simple & slim black clothing said French. Her accent was French. There you go. I couldn’t get that one wrong.
They were getting to know each other: Ah, the French woman is the new au pair.
The woman on the left ordered one of the café’s magnificent dishes – something I would not buy, because even though they are stunningly presented, they are ridiculously priced and would leave me still feeling rather hungry. Nope, I had ordered toast. The toast was $7.00. The coffee was probably $5.00, I can’t remember. $7.00 toast stuck in my mind, though. I can buy two loaves of really nice bread for that.
The woman on the left asked the au pair what she would like. The au pair ordered the same magnificent dish as her employer. I’m talking something that’s probably $25.00 and contains flecks of activated almonds and pomegranate seeds with a whiff of kale basted in activated beetroot. (I’m not joking about the activated stuff. There were multiple activated items on the menu.)
Another French woman walked in. Also beautiful. It appeared to be a handover meeting. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was paying attention to my journal and my gourmet toast, so I don’t know what they were talking about in detail. Just caught a phrase here and there, and a laugh here and there.
The au pair hirer had popped her baby down for a nap in the pram, but the baby wasn’t into it. There was newborn cry-cry-crying. The mum picked her up, standing, patting and soothing her.
Every now and then when I looked up from my journal, I was glancing at the people in the café, and sometimes I’d be lost in thought and I accidentally / vaguely stared. I was doing this when the mum was holding her crying baby. She caught me looking at her, and gave me a little smile, and said, “Why, what are you thinking?”
I don’t know what she meant by that. She said it like she knew me. I must have looked like I had some thoughts about a crying baby. I didn’t. I did think, in a microscopic-flash-thought (as are all thoughts) about what her life was like. I wondered what her house was like, if she had any other children, what her partner was like, if she worked, what she did for work, what it was like for the baby to have an au pair, and what it was like for her to have an au pair in her life. I also, in a microscopic-flash-thought, said to myself: “This is the area where I live. Some of the houses around me have au pairs.”
To answer the woman’s question, I didn’t say, “Oh, nothing, just staring into space here.” Instead, I said: “It’s nice hearing that newborn baby sound – I mean, not for you, you wish the baby wasn’t crying! – but for me, it’s nice.” It wasn’t the truth, but I felt like it was a more acceptable and bland response, somehow. There was something odd about her tone, like when a person can sound perfectly warm and nice but you learn, afterwards, that they felt insulted by something that you said. I wanted to deflect and vanish. I jumped back into my journal, and the women went away.