Blogging can be a lot of fun but it can also be frustrating – especially if it’s your primary job and you’re just starting out. And if your only company from nine to five is feline (or canine or toddler or whatever fits your situation) it can soon become very lonely. But how do you network when you’re a blogger?
This poem was originally written for a Creative Writing paper I did as part of my BA in English
The Tonk Team do not like cold mornings. To be honest, I can’t blame them – I don’t like cold mornings either. Actually I don’t like mornings at all but that’s an entirely different post. However, they do like being under the covers on my bed, snuggled up on the electric blanket and the furry little mobsters have been holding me hostage in there on a daily basis.
I am migrating the Crazy Cat Chik files over here, so for those of you who haven’t met them – I’d like to introduce you to The Moggie Mob. Although I grew up with cats, I never set out to have five (yes, as in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5) cats – it just sort of happened. Now that it has happened, I can’t imagine life without this rag tag, unruly bunch of four pawed mobsters – so with no further ado:
Read more Meet the Moggie Mob
Or: going back to school at (nearly) 50.
Of all the insane things I have done in my life – and yes, I’ve done one or two – I think the most insane has to have been the decision to return to school. When I enrolled at Massey University to do a Literature and Religious Studies degree at the beginning of 2014 I was full of well intentioned arrogance -a rather nice way of saying I was so full of bullshit I squeaked. I – in all my middle aged, mature student glory – a professional writer, with a degree in languages, and a practicing Buddhist, was doing this to simply tick boxes in my writing career. How hard could it be? Read more Whose dumb idea was this?
If you’ve read this blog before you know I’m not a fan of the M word. You know the one – we use it to describe the day that falls between Sunday and Tuesday and generally we preface it with the words “I hate” or “fucking” or “oh please no not again”. If you’re me, you use all three in quick succession…
This morning – yes it’s Monday – was no different. I overslept (despite going to bed relatively early), there were no coffee pods, I couldn’t find my car keys so The Offspring nearly missed the bus, I burned my breakfast, and dropped the heater on my shin. And yes, it hurt. A lot. Read more Time to reboot
When your teenagers look you up and down, screw their eyes up and wonder out loud if you have actually been out of the clothes you are wearing at any time in the past five days, you know you’re in trouble.
“Of course I’ve been out of them,” I protested as we pulled up to the local coffee shop (they needed lunch for school, I needed coffee and I can not overemphasize just how much I needed it), “I just happen to have got back in them.”
“You might want to try something else,” Miss 14 suggested, staying I would like to add out of arm’s reach, “or at least lose the hi-viz vest. Or the bright pink yoga pants. Washing your hair might be good too.”
In my defense, I had just got back from a one hour walk with my friend Kate – and this on only three hours sleep. That said, I may have slept in the sweatshirt I was wearing but only because I was so tired and cold when I fell into bed that I couldn’t be bothered pulling it over my head. And I will concede my hair did need washing. But everyone has days now and then when they just can’t get out of their own way, right?
There is a concept in Buddhism called ‘poison into medicine’ which is sort of every cloud has a silver lining on steroids. In very simple terms, the things we find the most difficult – or poisonous – often give us the most good in the end. Often because we realise we’ve ended up somewhere better than we had hoped for or have learned something vital we wouldn’t have learned any other way. It’s a great concept – is sometimes annoying. Especially when the medicine is delivered via a poison you are determined to rid yourself of. My poison this morning is a sociology paper that has me wanting to jump off the nearest cliff. The medicine (dammit) is that it has finally got me back behind my keyboard and writing after a long drought. Had to be sociology right? Read more Suck it up, buttercup