July 2011


by Lori Dwyer on July 31, 2011 · 24 comments

I have an hour until I pick my children up again.
Excuse me while the toddler in me has a screaming temper tantrum, because I don’t want to, I am tired and sick of it and this is unfair.

(Life isn’t fair, Lori, isn’t that what my mum used to say?)

Having a break is lovely. But it makes going back even harder.

Plugging on. Moving on. Getting up every day and getting dressed and doing it- life. No matter how hard it is.

When all I want to do is sleep and eat chocolate and cry a little bit.

I don’t feel sorry for myself very often.. like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do, but gets you nowhere. It’s not my style to wallow.

But tonight I am very, very sorry for myself. this is fucking unfair and why does everyone get a normal life and I have to struggle on with this?

I don’t want to play anymore.

So many times, those four days when Tony was in the ICU, I turned to my best friend and said “They may need to sedate me soon. That’s OK, that’s fine, tell them to knock me out… I’m looking forward to it.”

Because I always felt on the verge on becoming hysterical, the verge of my fractured mind absolutley cracking and screaming out all the horror inside.

I still feel like that, sometimes. Like tonight. I don’t want to go back to life, back to my kids, back to being lonely and constantly swimming amongst my own murky thoughts.

Sedate me. Someone. Please.

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Hey jelybeans,

I am one tired chicklet tonight.To be honest, I don’t want to go back to real life… but’s that’s a whole nother post, for a whole nother day.

So.. a quick one tonight, before I crash for a few hours then start the very long drive back home. I just felt I should explain what was going on, for all of those people who have been bombarded with my #nnb2011 Tweets all day.

It’s Nuffnang Blogopolis 2011, people. The first one ever. And it was huge. A roomful of Aussie bloggers- parent bloggers, food bloggers, fashion bloggers, finance bloggers and at least one real estate blogger. We even got a workshop with the ProBlogger himself.

Poor Emma’s Brain had an absess in her face that looked very much like she swallowed a golf ball. She trooped on, long enough to look hot and make an apperance.

The best piece of advice I got was probably from Dave of Nuffnang. I even made a note of it.

There was a Mexican Wave. It looked damn cool. And it was totally ripping off my idea, which I Tweeted half hour beforehand.

I did some very public Tweeting about undies with the very funny Carly Findlay. And we did a lot of giggling. And then we got told off by the blogger in front of us for being too loud. She called us ‘Girls’. It felt just like being in school again.

Anyway. What happens in a room full of bloggers at about 3pm….? Everyone’s batteries start to die. Heh.

And the holiday is now officially complete. I have shopped, shopped, shopped, met one of my idols- Miss Violet LeBeaux….

…. and Melbourne put on a simply kick arse rainbow for us, just outside Federation Square.

I love you very much, Melbourne. Driving away, it’s going to be difficult.

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Melbourne, Part Three- St Kilda.

by Lori Dwyer on July 28, 2011 · 31 comments

I’m slightly in love with St Kilda.

I’ve always wanted to go there- something to do with Paul Kelly, and The Secret Life of Us. And it didn’t dissapoint.

Beautiful coffee. Every type of food you can imagine. Cake shops that look like they were made by Willy Wonka. Funky op shops, hippy shops, clothes and shoe shops. People and babies and dogs and bikes and trams and buses.

Melbourne is a living, breathing space, like any major city. But it’s different to Sydney. Well set out, organised. The traffic flows smoothly, motorbikes park on the footpath. People use public transport because it’s abundant and easy.

This city works like clockwork.

It’s clean and it smells divine. Cold, yes, but again, different- without the wind coming straight off a huge open harbour, the cold is not as bitter.

And Melbourne doesn’t pretend. They know it’s cold here, and they work with it, unlike Sydney, where we all seem to ignore our discomfort for four months a year because we are, after all, a summer city. People in Melbourne dress for the cold. Cafes are equipped with well working cas heaters, and plastic enclosures to keep out the chill.

And it is a beautiful city. Sydney is dirty and grey, only it’s spanning bridge, fanning Opera House and the sparkle of blue water as it’s backdrop that makes it beautiful.

Melbourne makes itself pretty. Artwork is everywhere, quirky things to catch the eye, to entertain, whimsy to make you smile. Even the freeways are dotted with artwork, rather than a long stretch of grey carpark, no joy to be found in overpasses and green signs and graffiti. All of this on a 40 kilomtre drive that takes half an hour at 9am- in Sydney, it would be a two hour drive. I only wish I were exaggerating .

And the result of all of this is, I think, people in Melbourne are relaxed. They dress to match their background- rugged up for winter, but colourful and stylish. No one is overly friendly, but everyone treats you as if you visit their store every day. I apoligise for bumping against people in stores, and they look at me strangely. It takes me half an hour to realise this is not so much of a custom in Melbourne as it is in Sydney- personal space is not so revered, interfering with it less likely to cause tension.

Again, it’s that colour in the people. No arrogance or rudeness, living a bustling city life, but not constantly stressed by the grind of it, when the city works so well. It’s not quite the wet-dishrag-on-Valium relaxed of Perth or Darwin, but it’s lovely.

I don’t feel like a ghost here. But I’m not sure why.

I’ve spent months feeling like a ghost, as if I died the same time Tony did. (The day after he died… automatic doors, refusing to open for me. “Am I dead?” I ask my friend, “Did I die too, am I ghost?”).

A dose of Melbourne is making me feel alive again. I’m not sure why- there’s just a feeling that in Melbourne, every person has colour.

And I’ve been grey for quite a while now.

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