A triumphantish return

The last time I posted anything was 15th September 2009. Good lord. That’s over 6 months ago. We all need a little break from time to time, but this is ridiculous.

In that time the media well and truly took over blogging. Twitter took over the globe then went into decline. The gloss came off the Obamarama apple. The Haitians got fucked. Everyone was pleasantly surprised by the worst bushfire season in history, likewise the GFC. Somehow Tony Abbott hoved into view.

My part-time job took over my life. I travelled through Oman, mysterious Sultanate of Arabia. I’ve spent much of the new year getting to the end of my tether and breaking balls left and centre. I’m putting up old friends in my spare room and being force-fed divine Japanese food every time I look a little peckish. My freelance business is going to seed and I couldn’t give a hoot. I read the greatest novel ever written, Moby Dick. I was told I needed to ‘get in touch with my feminine side again’.

Having a skim over some old posts, by and large it makes me cringe. I haven’t picked up a pen in ever so long, but know I can do much better. Although The Galloping Skirt is therapy, it still goes out into the wide world. It’s been up for nearly four years, and has been too much work to just drop it when I’ve had enough. But there needs to be less of the chaff and more of the wheat.

A good long break from this self-imposed ‘creativity’ perhaps happened at the right time. I needed to take a break from the inside of my own head. I wanted time out from what other people thought I should be doing. I needed to work my bum off. I had come to the end of a long season of bad housemates and bad decisions and needed to recoup. I stopped trying so hard to get words on the page, and stopped altogether.

With the Kyoto invasion underway, I’m now being treated like a queen. I don’t even go so far as to wash up a cup (and Keiko hasn’t even arrived yet – this is all from Mike, my American friend). This gives me time to roam and wander – to lounge around and read books, to potter in the garden, to talk nonsense into the wee hours and watch Battlestar Galactica.

In Japan they work like dogs, and highly structure every part of the day so as not to waste it. I’m re-introducing Mike to the concept of spare time, teaching him the meaning of composting food scraps and familiarising him with Aussie idiom with the educational materials to hand (The Adventures of Barry McKenzie). I suspect that this arrangement will work both ways. His observations are bizarre and hilarious. We are having a ball.

This post wasn’t about much, but it makes a start.

12 thoughts on “A triumphantish return

  1. Warning: Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, watch the final episode of Battlestar Galactica. Watch up to that, and then just don't watch it. EPIC FAIL. You will regret it. I regret it. FAAAAIIIILLLLL.

  2. Yay! You are back, fighting off spammers with spacemen! Just in time with the end of the Olympics!! All is well in the world again!! SQUEEE!!!

  3. Canada just beat America (as those egotistical Yanks call themselves, as if the rest of us don't exist) for the Olympic Gold Medal in (ice) hockey, so I treat you all to a big jaikara (Sikh battle cry) BOLE SO NIHAAAAAL!!SAT SHRI AKAAAAL!!!!! (You really don't want to know what it means. Believe me.)Boo, I must hear all about the gorgeous, gracious gentlemen of Oman. And please post many, many photos.In your absence, I have been indulging my Messianic Complex involved in many Worthy Causes and playing FishWorld in Facebook.A friend gifted me with Photoshop CS4 (Extended) and this fancy new computer with lots of memory, so I am learning a little graphic arts. I have a series of pictures about a hapless goldfish that include, among finding a pot of goldfish stew at the end of the rainbow. A bit simpler, I made this new profile picture, nothing fancy but it is personal. A roaring lioness with a Sikh fist coming out of her mouth (notice the kara). Almost apocalyptic, eh? Welcome back and write as your muse strikes you, but please, POST THOSE PICTURES.

  4. Hurrah, you're back! It's always weird looking at old posts but I can't imagine what would make you cringe (unlike the final episode of BG which is totally cringesome).So is Moby Dick really worth reading? I have a colleague who keeps trying to foist a copy on me and I keep making excuses because I think it's the only book he's ever read.

  5. No, no, Mai, raw eggs are too good for the ending of BSG. You can make good things with raw eggs – cooked eggs. Souffles. Omlettes. Pavlova. And so forth.I'm trying to think of something bad enough it may have sucked…The final episode of Battlestar sucked… Senator Bill Heffernan. It's the only comparison I can think of. You may have to google him.

  6. Welcome back Boo.Dropped by your blog a while back and quietly thought that you looked like you had packed in blogging. I know what you mean by needing a break from your own head. I pretty much stopped blogging too for over 6 months.So glad to hear that you are out having amazing adventures in the world. I think I'm in need of a big adventure too…feeling a bit stuck-trapped in old Melbourne town.

  7. How nice to be welcomed back by all! I thought I'd be well and truly off 'the list' if you know what I mean.I will do my best to rhapsodise about Omani men (hard – they are tricksy to take a good photo of) and to convince one and all to read Moby-Dick (espec Pomgirl, who I know a great reader).BSG will take a while. We are only just through season 1.

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