I really don’t feel like myself since I got home. At first I thought it was jet lag because I couldn’t sleep and had an attention span that could be counted in seconds, rather than minutes or hours.

Then the days moved on and now I’ve been home over a week, but still I lie awake at night with my mind racing and my legs twitching from nervous energy and it seems obvious that there might be a bit more to it.

Is it just post holiday blues or something more?

I don’t feel depressed and I was actually glad to come home. Routine is a vital part of life with young children and it was definitely tiring having to entertain Bunny all day every day. In Europe he had no pre-school, no mates, hardly any toys and little predictability. Usually Bunny is a child who thrives on predictability (so unlike me), but overseas he coped amazingly well and adapted to everything we threw at him. Even so, it’s nice to be home where there’s more support and a bedroom I can send him to when he’s throwing a wobbly.

But back to me - it’s ALL ABOUT ME, people!

If it was a welcome comfort to get home, why do I feel so disinterested in doing anything?

I started back up on my novel overseas, but am now dragging my feet. I have a few draft posts written that I can’t seem to finish. A client who wants me to start on a project, but I’m avoiding him. And I find myself mentally blank for long periods of the day with a physical restlessness which is keeping me up ’till all hours.

People are supposed to come home from holidays recharged, not drained!

I have to admit, this has happened before. Last year when I returned from Thailand, I wrote about my intuition that change was in the air. It made a lot of sense then because I’d been feeling very burned out before I went away, and when I came home I re-prioritized my life to stop copy writing for a few months and concentrate on my family.

This time the problem isn’t burn out, and maybe it’s not post holiday blues either. Maybe those over-active instincts of mine sense new challenges on the horizon for me and my poor little brain (it’s not what it once was - thanks Bunny) is struggling to keep up.

I did start to jot down some notes for a new creative project while I was away, the novel has spluttered back to life, and I’ve been mulling over some minor changes I want to make here at SHE-POWER. So, maybe I’m being too hard on myself.

Maybe just getting on with everyday life for a week or two is just what I need. Time for my ideas to germinate and bloom into something beautiful. Maybe it’s that old dilemma again about it being okay to do nothing. Sit, wait and create.

What do you think?

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

- John Lennon, Singer, Songwriter, Legend (1940 - 1980)


Hi all, just wanted you to know we arrived home safe and sound. The 22 hour plane flight home was FANTASTIC. No really, just great! I’d happily do it again tomorrow.

NOT!

The jet-lag seems to have left MusicMan and I completely brain dead, and though this is our third day home we’re both functioning on the most basic level and often find ourselves quite disoriented. I still have a half unpacked suitcase sitting next to my front door, for example.

I don’t have the attention span to finish the washing up, watch an hour long television show or read a book. So, writing my scrawled notes up into a meaningful post has proved impossible. Sorry. I have tried - believe me I have - but I only end up staring at the computer screen with no idea how I was going to finish that last sentence.

I will return when I am back in the swing of everyday life and find myself doing more than wandering around the house with no idea of where I’m heading or what I was supposed to be doing.

By the way, the photograph was taken of me in Sevilla. The doves are carnivorous there.

Kelly

some things about your colorful country are just plain loco.

First let me be clear, I had a great time in Spain and I will do a post with the highlights of our visit after I get home. I won’t be able to really give the research and writing the time it deserves until then because Musicman is working now and I’m entertaining Bunny.

But like any country, there were a few things that drove me absolutely nuts. Some are little and petty, some stressed me out, and some had me quite pissed off after awhile. In no particular order…

• The Spanish eat so much oily food that you can go to a tapas bar and EVERY item on the menu is fried. After two weeks, the most important question I asked when we were deciding where to eat was if the bar/cafe served salad.
• A mixed salad always has tuna in it. I don’t know why, but sometimes I just wanted a simple green salad, and they found this quite strange.
• Juice in Spain is always sweetened with sugar and sometimes is more like cordial. In Catalunya they take this further by serving up the sweetened orange juice with a spoon and a sachet of sugar. I tried asking for sin azucar, but this was usually ignored, leaving me to battle it out with Bunny over why he couldn’t dump two teaspoons of sugar in his already sugared juice. Yes, sugar sachets are huge here - at least two teaspoons.
• Even though the laws were changed to ban smoking in bars, cafes and restaurants, this is largely ignored. It is still common to sit in a small cafe/bar (they’re pretty much one and the same here) and have people smoking all around you. I found it really hard to cope with, particularly if I was eating. And it amazed me that people will light up in a confined eatery when they are sitting within a metre of a young child. To be fair, smoking is much more prevalent in the South than in the North of Spain, and Barcelona did have a few smoke free restaurants.
• In Sevilla we were actually served by a smoking barman and we could see the kitchen staff smoking while they cooked. Needless to say, we only ate there once.
• I noticed this a lot in the South, but it might happen in the North too: Spaniards often throw their cigarettes butts and rubbish on the floor so there is litter all around the bar area. Someone is then employed to walk around sweeping up this mess. They actually get in there between your feet and knees with the broom sometimes.
• In the South, siesta is strongly adhered to because of the searing heat and so you have quite strict hours as to when you can get a meal. If you get caught up sightseeing and snacking until 4.30pm, you’re out of luck. You’ll walk blocks and blocks in the vain hope of finding a bar or cafe who will serve you food. Lunch is usually 1pm to about 3.30pm. And if you want dinner at 7.30pm that’s probably too early too. Heading out to eat at 9pm is much more normal. In the North we had a bit more success with eating between 5 and 7pm, but we still had to hunt around.
• And the heat in Sevilla… it was a killer. I love hot weather and usually I choose travel destinations with a sun friendly climate, but Sevilla is by far the hottest place I have ever been. And it’s not even the peak of summer yet! We found ourselves getting so many cabs because Bunny was just wilting so quickly and we weren’t far behind. The locals cover up and many of them wear trousers, even on the hottest days. I joked to Musicman that it was because the ladies don’t want heat rash from sweat running down their thighs!

• Spanish inner city streets are so narrow (though gorgeous and full of character, particularly in Granada and Sevilla) that people park their cars on the curb, within a few centimeters of the buildings so they sometimes have to hop across to the passenger side to climb out. This also makes driving down these streets a nerve wracking exercise, especially for us Aussies who are used to wide roads and footpaths.
• The Spanish love to double park so you can turn into a street and get stuck because it’s impossible to go through with all the cars practically sitting on top of each other
• Roundabouts are massive affairs with up to 7 or 8 off roads and lots of lanes that everyone ignores. Cars and motorbikes cut in front of you barely missing your headlights to get where they want to go, and if you try and stay in the lines and follow the rules there’s a good chance you’ll be the one stuck and missing your turn off.
• Roundabouts can have lights which are there, but it’s hard to see which off road they’re serving. Sometimes the light in front of you is red so you stop, but then everyone keeps driving and apparently it’s for someone else, though god knows who.
• Sign posting to a destination is excellent until the final one or two turns and then there is nothing. You can get to a major intersection and there are no signs so you choose one and drive for another 5 minutes until you figure out you’ve got the wrong one. You then try another and it’s the right one because a sign to your destination appears within a minute or two. The question we struggled with is why there is no signage when you actually needed it!
• The arrows on road signs to indicate straight ahead are not vertical, they’re at a 45 degree angle. The first day we were driving, the missing road sign problem and the 45 degree angle problem had us driving in bloody circles for hours!
• In the South of Spain they have some of the most intense temperatures I have ever encountered, but for some reason they make the kids playgrounds with metal slides and play equipment. This means you can’t really use them until it’s night-time because the surfaces burn to the touch. This had Bunny constantly disappointed because he wanted to swing or go on the slide, but he couldn’t.

Okay, I think that’s enough; I don’t want to give the wrong impression about this wonderful country. But now you know what I won’t be pining for here in smoke free, eat at any hour London.

Will post about my time in London next. See you in a few days.

Kelly

Hola! Sorry I´ve been so long between stops, but the internet in Southern Spain is doing my head in. Wireless connection has been elusive so my laptop is gathering dust, and the broadband connections have been slow enough that writing and uploading photographs takes more time than mi familia are willing to give.

It´s been driving me nuts because I´ve been itching to write a post - I have pages of notes with ideas - but thus far I haven´t been able to actualize my desires. Online connection has been the paramour who is teasing me, dangling itself in front of me every other day or so and then proving itself disinterested in consumating our relationship. I´m like the most frustrated blogger in the world right now!

Yesterday I thought I´d found the right ingredients for a successful seduction. I had the internet cafe scoped out. I´d made introductions. I had arranged with my other loves to be amused elsewhere for an hour or so while I slipped out alone. I had my memory stick all prepped with photos and some scrawled notes to ensure I wasn´t caught up too long. Everything was organised. What could go wrong?

Our apartment, that´s what. Yes, a Spanish apartment kept me prisoner and I had to be rescued. After that I was too rattled to sneak away again and so clung close to the side of mi esposo, certain Spain was conspiring to keep me away from you. It sounds like I´m joking, but I´m not.

Let me first describe the apartment where we´re staying in Sevilla. It´s a building with three floors. The top has a roof terrace perfect for drinking cervezas with the fading sun in the evening warmth. The second floor is ours with an adorable, traditional Spanish apartment. One that has those full length windows/doors that open up in the lounge room and bedroom with the picturesque iron bars and flower pots to keep you from falling out. It´s like having a juliet balcony, but there´s no balcony.

Still the apartment is gorgeous and the view of cobbled streets and adobe buildings all around and the church at the end of the street (with bells that ring at times we find hard to comprehend) makes us feel like we are truly living like a Seville local.

The first floor is another apartment, which has been empty this week, so we are all alone in the building. Great for privacy. Terrible for when you need rescuing. The ground floor has a solid iron and double glassed security door, which needs a key to open it. Mui seguridad The only problem is you need a key to leave as well as to enter. Can you see where I am going here?

The realtor of the apartment only gave us one key for the front door. Musicman and Bunny left while I was having a shower. They unlocked the door and then closed it when they left, thereby locking me INTO the apartment block. Musicman had no idea what he had done.

So I toddle down 15 minutes later, notebook and memory stick in hand, psyched to get a post up and I only make it as far as the door to our apartment before I remember about the front security door. You see, we had noticed the annoying quirk of needing a key to get out on our first day, but then we´d forgotten about it. I was just about to close the front door to our apartment, thereby locking myself in the stairwell, when that memory flickered my mind and I stopped dead. “Oh shit!”

Now I look back and I am so grateful I realized before I shut that door. If I hadn´t had my mobile, I could have been stuck in the stairwell for hours. As it was, I could only text Musicman and hope for the best.

For some reason the fact that both our mobiles are roaming means we can only message each other. We can´t call. We can call other phones, just not each other. Do you think Musicman checked his mobile for messages? Of course not.

I texted him five times and he just couldn´t hear the beeps of the phone in his bag. Bunny had his attention, he was navigating roads, whizzing Spanish drivers and a 4 year old. He couldn´t hear me at all.

45 minutes later I was feeling quite claustrophobic. I couldn´t leave the apartment. I checked the windows - long drop, then there´s the bars - and I wrenched at that bloody front door for ages. I cried and punched the wall. I imagined myself stuck there all day and I began to panic.

That was until I had a brainwave. I remembered a girl´s best friend - her mum.

I called mum, apologised profusely for the late hour (damn that time difference) and got her to call Musicman. I knew he´d answer a phone call because it could be work and he´d definitely hear it. I was right. Mum sent out the rescue mission and I was freed within the next half hour.

Unfortunately, I was way too freaked to come out and write the post. I guess that´s the proof I still have not got over that childhood thing about small spaces. Even an apartment is small when you know you can´t get out. Please don´t think I´m too pathetic.

And now the stupid computer is saying it won´t upload any more photos. Of course not, that would be too efficient.

Sorry to leave you with no more visions of Spain. Will try again when I can, otherwise I´ll be home in 10 days or so. Hasta luego amigos.

When I started SHE-POWER Women with the beautiful Jemi, I always had in mind that I would do a partner interview series of SHE-POWER Men.

Like the women’s interview series, SHE-POWER Men is about celebrating ordinary men who live their lives in extraordinary, yet simple ways. Men who like and respect women. Men who strive to live with integrity and honesty.

Clay Collins was always my first choice to kick off SHE-POWER Men. His alternative productivity blog, The Growing Life is somewhat of a blogging phenomenon - over 1000 subscribers by the end of its second month. Then there’s his guest articles at blogs such as Dumb Little Man, Zenhabits, Write to Done and Copyblogger, making Clay one of blogging’s new rising stars.

But most of all I chose Clay Collins because he’s a smart and interesting man with a lot to say and a gifted writer with a truly fresh approach. He’s also been a great blogging buddy of mine and has an easy charm and sincerity that I really wanted to capture for SHE-POWER Men. And if you’ve ever read the Dedication to his Grandparents on The Growing Life then you’ll know why I’m voting him Blogging Bachelor of the Year.

Here is Clay Collins talking life, women, blogs, politics and more.

My idea of the perfect weekend is…

Waking up next to someone awesome, going for a run in the arboretum (or a long bike ride), having a picnic outside with friends, listening to some NPR, and doing some writing.

My mother always told me…

My mother is amazing. My mom always tells me to “be good.” The dialogue goes something like this:

———
Me: talk to you later, mom.

Mom: OK, Clay. Be good.

Me: [Sigh]. I’ll be good mom.

Mom: And you know what that means, Clay.

Me: Yeah, mom, I know what that means.

Mom: It means take care of yourself.

Me: I know. Thanks mom. I love you.

———
In this day and age, so many parents coerce their children into getting good grades, obtaining a respectable career, etc. Parents too frequently convey the notion that “being good” means towing the societal line. So I’m eternally grateful that my mom taught me that being good simply means doing what’s right for me and taking care of myself (physically, intellectually, emotionally, etc.). Taking care of myself, of course, also means taking care of others, because doing our part to lift each other up is a basic human need.

My mom also tried to brainwash me into thinking that I could do whatever I wanted to do. She always told me that “you can do whatever you want if you really want it.” For better or worse, the brainwashing attempts were successful.

What’s your favorite blog to read? Which is most overrated?

Melissa Pierce’s blog is damn cool. And my friend Laurie also has a pretty awesome blog as well. This blog is also pretty fantastic. I also really like 1000 Cuts by Monk Mojo.

The productivity/self-development blogosphere has its share of approval-seeking and overly sensitive writers, and it’s nice to see someone having fun with the whole genre. (Yes, it’s true that Monk Mojo’s made me look like a badass but his blog would probably be a favorite regardless). Rolf Potts vagabonding blog is also damn cool. That man’s my hero.

The problem I have with most self-help/productivity blogs is that they flood us with tips (we’ve hit the TIP tipping point and things have gone WAY too far). If I need to acquire a new skill, or am looking for a list of 100 motivation hacks, then I’ll go to Google.

What I want in my feed reader is (1) good & artful writing, and (2) perspective. I’m looking for creative non-fiction.

My most defining moment was…

When I discovered life and my adult self in Ghana, and when I returned from Ghana to Minneapolis and built a new reality. Like Ethan Zukerman, my heart’s in Accra. I want to go back.

Where do you hope to be in 10 years time?

Writing in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Like so many others, I love writing. I could do it all day. I don’t have issues with writers block, or passion. I just don’t have the time to write 24/7 and a man’s got to make a living. So my dream is to have enough money to feed my family and children, enough time to write, and to be somewhat well-received as an author. It’s nice to know that your work is being read.

What makes you angry and/or sad?

Oh god. HP technical support in Bangalore really pisses me off. President Bush. Military solutions to non-military problems. Hunger really makes me sad because it’s a problem that doesn’t have to exist. Xenophobia, water boarding, and human rights violations also get me worked up.

Do you think men are more likely to be unfaithful than women?

No I don’t. I’d recommend taking a look at two great books: Sperm Wars and The Red Queen.

Do you vote?

Absolutely. If you don’t then you’re partially responsible for this mess we’re in.

If YES, is there anything (eg. a scandal) that would change your mind about your preferred candidate?

Oh sure. If I found out about several covered-up connections between Barack Obama and big business then I’d have to reassess my preference.

Do you regard yourself as a “good catch”? Why or why not?

As always, it depends. I like trying new things so dating me usually involves trying out different camp sites, making new recipes, swimming in new bodies of water, going on impromptu road trips, and good substantive conversations combined with a healthy dose of nonsense.

That said, I’m meeting more and more women these days who are looking to start a family and want a guy to be (in part) infrastructure for their lives (or an enabler for a laundry list of goals). I’m not that guy right now. Someday I’ll want to be a father and when that day comes I’ll probably embrace a more conventional approach to relationships, but until that day comes I’m unlikely to be infrastructure for someone else’s life. I’ll welcome certain things when I’m ready but I’m not there yet.

I really hope that this doesn’t sound misogynistic.

At what point will you feel that you and The Growing Life are a success?

I think it’s already a success and I’m happy with who I am as a person. TGL’s a success because my readers and I are on the same page. When I write something that really resonates with me it also tends to resonate with them. I really didn’t know what to think when I started TGL, but I ended up with 200 subscribers the first month and 800 the second. Everything else feels like gravy. Life is good.

And a Few Questions From The Readers…

What is the biggest change you plan to make in your life this year?

Question courtesy of Cath Lawson

I really don’t know. I honestly haven’t thought about it very much. I’m really not very goal oriented. I’d like to buy a condo and Minneapolis and start laying down very deep roots there, so maybe that’s it.

Settling down, family, marriage: looking forward to, or scared of?

Question courtesy of Vered@MomGrind

Children are great and I’ll happily commit to someone when I’m ready to have children. Probably not earlier. Getting married prematurely, however, scares me sh*tless.

Do you think men remember romantic/relationship events like women do? Eg. First kiss

Question courtesy of Charlotte@CharmedLife

I actually think guys are far more sentimental than women. Guys savor deep emotional connections because they happen much less frequently. So while guys seem to be FAR TOO LOGICAL most of the time, those intense emotional moments are driven much deeper into our psyches because they’re peak experiences.

Was there ever a time when you considered giving up on your blog?

Question courtesy of Chris@WatdaWat

Not really. The whole experience has been great. Sometimes I think I should be spending more time on my book proposal and less time on blog entries, but I don’t think The Growing Life will be going away anytime soon. It’s too much fun, and growing far too fast, for me to put down.

Thanks

Clay

Photo 1 of Clay and friend
Photo 2 provided by StewieD
Photo 3 provided by hjl

Like forever ago, Chris Austria of Wat da Wat? tagged me for a 3 Things About Me meme. Normally I don’t do stuff like this at SHE-POWER, but because it’s Chris and I worship at the altar of his unfailing wisdom and humor…. and because I’ve got ADD with no hope of writing a ‘proper’ article days out from the Spain trip, I’m going to let you in on a few fascinating Kelly facts.

1. I HATE runny, yolky eggs

Yes, stop the press, this is big news. I love to eat eggs, but they must be scrambled or flipped and beaten until they are DEAD DEAD DEAD. I am not over exaggerating here. If I order eggs at a cafe and they do not get what I mean by “Rock Hard” then I send them back. I cannot abide soft, mushy yolks. Not only do I hate the texture and taste of loose or runny eggs, the sight alone is enough to make me gag. Aghh, I’ve actually got the shivers just thinking about it…

2. I am fanatically feminist about women keeping their maiden name after marriage

I just know some of my friends who read this blog are groaning right now because they’ve heard the rants. The ones that go on and on because I absolutely do not get why the majority of women in this day and age still change their names when they get married. WHY????!!!!!

Obviously this means that Kelly Rigby is my maiden name. My son and husband have a different one, and mostly that is okay by my husband. Did he want me to change my name? In an ideal world I guess he thought it would be nice, but it never really bothered him and he’s never expected I would change my mind. The only concession he did ask for was that any children we had should carry his name. I was fine by that since it was just as important to him to carry on his dead father’s name as it was to me not to change mine.

It’s not as if I freak out if someone calls me Mrs Musicman. I don’t. My grandmother has refused to acknowledge I still use Rigby. I’ve told her often enough not to use my husband’s name, but it just doesn’t make sense to her so she perseveres. I am sure she isn’t intentionally trying to make a point, the whole idea is just outside of her reality and that’s okay. She’s my Nanna and I love her so she can call me Gertrude if it makes her happy.

I am also proud to be Musicman’s wife and partner so if people get it wrong socially, I let it slide. And I am aware that because we have a son, I’m probably going to get called Mrs Musicman a lot by kids in the years ahead. But all this does not change the fact that I felt it was important to keep my own name when I married. In fact, for me it was a deal breaker. I would never have married if my husband had insisted I change to his name.

Now, this could be called a case of personal preference and I get that. Most of my friends have changed their names and one has even done it for two husbands, but the thing that really baffles me is why I am still an absolute minority in a country where so many relationship norms and traditions have changed, but this has not. Why do women still change their names when they marry, and why are so many men offended and outraged when a woman does not want to?

Marriage used to be about ownership. A man bought himself a wife with a dowry so of course she adopted his name. This should not be relevant in the western world today, so why do people still do it, and why do woman think it’s romantic? I would really love someone to explain this to me because I truly don’t get it. Everyone talks to me about tradition and how changing a name isn’t important. But, we have given up plenty of other traditions (I have only ever been to one wedding that used the word OBEY) and your name should be important. Giving up a part of your identity, the name you may have been known by for over 30 years is a big deal. What did he give up to marry you?

3. The police were called to my wedding reception and I got so drunk that I was still hung over 2 days later

See, I am all class. Well, in a class of my own anyway. What other bride mixes champagne, tequila, red and white wine on her wedding day?

Maybe I’ll sound less of an alcoholic if I say this was almost 10 years ago and prior to the big day my husband and I AGREED we wanted a HUGE PARTY for our wedding. We figured that we had been living in sin for two years anyway and knew all each other’s best sexual moves so what was the big deal about a wedding night? We had the reception in the style of a cocktail party in a marquee at my father’s property. The idea was that it’s private, personal and a beautiful setting for a wedding. We even had medieval torches lighting the bridge that crosses the gully between the house and where the marquee was - so romantic, particularly as our grand entrance was to the sound of a Latin guitarist.

Dad’s property also seemed like a good idea because we wouldn’t get kicked out at 11pm like you do with a standard reception venue. We had people traveling from far and wide and a great live band and we wanted to celebrate our new life together with style. And this is where the police came in.

Dad’s place is on a higher rise at the foot of a mountain and the land around it dips down and then rises again on the other side. Well, someone on the other side didn’t appreciate the way our rocking band’s tunes carried across the land and into their delicate sleeping eardrums at 1am. They called the police, who warned us once, and then when we took too long with the encore came and shut us down. Not that this stopped the party.

My husband was just as disgraceful on our wedding night. I couldn’t find him when the police left so I searched high and low and sure enough, he was passed out in his tuxedo amongst the rose petals my sisters had thoughtfully placed all around our bedroom suite. I was still having a great time so I dragged him under the covers, shrugged off my wedding dress, slipped on some jeans, checked my tiara was still in place and went back to the party to do more tequila shots.

Four hours later, with my last few friends crawling onto lounges and chairs to sleep, I went to bed too. But the damage had already been done. I was sick as a dog and couldn’t move until the middle of the next afternoon, when my mother dragged my sorry ass out of bed to go down and open up some presents before my family traveled back to Melbourne. I can barely remember this and only have the vaguest recollection of later that afternoon when my new husband put me in the car and drove me down the coast for our romantic honeymoon. The one where I was ill and woozy for another 2 days. Girls and boys, don’t try this at home…

So there’s 3 fascinating facts about me. I’m a fussy egg eating, feminist ranting, drunk.

Join me Monday for my Clay Collins Interview as our first SHE-POWER MAN.

By the way, this photo is me and my brother getting messy with tequila shots at my wedding reception. I considered showing the one with me dancing in jeans and a tiara with a bottle of wine in my hand but that just seemed way too embarrassing, even for me

 

Considering it has been almost a week since my last post and in that time SHE-POWER was kidnapped by a Korean religious group, you could be forgiven for thinking I’ve given up on you. Packed my bags and closed up shop.

But never fear my faithful constituents (see my God complex is in full force now - all it needed was an excuse), I am here. I have returned. I may not have anything exciting to say, but what does that matter when you can bask in my all knowing glory. Bring your offerings, your children, your burdens, your ailments and I shall …

Okay, enough! I’ll stop.  This is beyond funny, I’m probably just getting into offensive territory now.

The truth is my server issues dragged on much longer than I expected and my site has only been functioning in a normal fashion since late Monday morning (Sydney time). Since then I have been flat-chat with work and trip preparations, and I still am very busy so this is probably as good a time as any to let you know that I won’t be posting as regularly from now until the end of June.

I’m leaving for Spain in two weeks and I have clients to please, families to organize, bookings to confirm, itineraries to nut out, suitcases to pack and a million other things to do which probably should have been done already, but my hubby and I seem to have lost track of time.

I will endeavor to post at least once a week, even while I am overseas, but please forgive me if it all becomes too hard and not fun and I forget about you so I can enjoy my first family vacation in years. It’s not personal. I don’t have any issues I’d like to air. We’re still pals. I’ll be back.

But I am SO looking forward to Spain. It’s going to be bliss. With lots of time bumming around, walking on white sand beaches, feasting my eyes on gorgeous architecture, eating tapas, drinking sangria and getting laid. Oops, did I just say that?

Well, come on, what else are holidays for?

Moving on from my currently dismal sex life and my great hopes for the future, I am almost finished with the next extract of SHE-POWER Fiction, so I’m aiming to get that to you ASAP. Then I should have my Clay Collins interview up by next week and maybe even a guest post for you too. So, stick around and normal posting will resume in July.

Kelly

Photo by ul Marga

“The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”

- Nelson Mandela, South African Statesman and Nobel Prize Winner


Just wanted to let you all know that SHE-POWER has been having some major server issues. Actually, that’s a bit of an understatement; if you checked the site 8-20 hours ago, you would have found that SHE-POWER had become the Queensgate Baptist Church. Yes, I was a bit shocked to see I had gone religious, and with Korean constituents as well. I never cease to amaze even myself…

But seriously, I’m still having problems accessing my server company and my email isn’t working so I’m going to post this Quote of the Week as a bit of a test run to see what’s what.

Hopefully I am going to go to bed and wake up to find everything is back to normal in the morning. If not, I guess it will be another call to the USA to very politely enquire “What the fuck is going on?”

Photo by stibbons

This past week was a lousy one for me. I’ve had severe PMS, which took a fiercer than normal hold this month, probably because I’m currently frustrated with certain aspects of my life.

Lucky for me, one of my blogging friends, Charlie Gilkey, wrote a fantastic piece this week on 21 Ways to Quickly Short-Circuit A Funk and it reminded me of all the actions I should be taking (or NOT taking - as in canceling my blog, which I wanted to do all weekend) to get through what my rational mind knows is a temporary slump.

One of the items on Charlie’s list, and one of my great loves is music. I do not play an instrument, but I was raised in a musical household and music is one of the few ways I can circumvent a complete emotional meltdown. In fact, it is probably quite telling that in the real low points of my adult life, when I could barely drag myself out of bed, I had stopped listening to music.

To me, music is as essential as the air I breathe and the food I eat. Music adds a warm glow to life. It heightens the passion, cushions the falls, and adds meaning to the events and relationships that have defined my 36 years.

Here is my life in music:

Childhood

Let It Be, The Beatles, 1970

Both my parents are passionate about music, and my dad, his guitar and our musician friends were an intrinsic element of my early childhood. The Beatles were always on our record player, but Let it Be sticks in my mind because we once lived in an old house in New Zealand which came with an ancient, lumbering organ. I decided that I may not be able to stick with guitar lessons, but goddamn it I was going to master one instrument. This was the one and only song I learned to play.

Mama Mia, Abba, 1976

When I was little I always fancied I could grow up and be Agnetha with her beautiful straight blond hair and groovy fashions. Considering I was a freckled faced brunette with wavy curls this was always unlikely.

Woman in Love, Barbara Streisand and Barry Gibb, 1980

My mum loved this album when it came out and I remember this song being played A LOT. I’m not sure if she was a fan of Barbara, or Barry and his tight jeans.

We Are the Champions, Queen, 1977

Freddie was a God in our house and I still bow to his genius today, as does my little sister who was born probably around the time he died. Goes to show that brilliance will always live on.

I Was Made for Loving You, Kiss, 1979

The very start of my music obsession. I used to dance my butt off to this song and was lucky enough to go to the Wellington concert with my parents. There are definite perks to being a kid in a musical family.

My First Song Obsession

Counting the Beat, The Swingers, 1981

Outside of Australia and New Zealand I’m not sure if anyone knows this song, but it was HUGE down under and I taped it from the radio and used to play the tape over and over again. I couldn’t get enough of it, and it still gets a lot of airplay on my iPod now.

Goodbye Happy Families

Come on Eileen, Dexys Midnight Runners, 1982

This song was out when my parents were getting divorced and I was leaving town with no idea where I would live next.The enormity of it all was too much to cope with so I retreated into the world created by this song where the guy will do anything to keep his girl. The song played at the end of year school fete and all I remember is hugging my best friend and wishing I could stop time. It was like I already sensed my carefree childhood was over.

Changing from Girl into Woman

Pleasure and Pain, The Divinyls, 1985

The Divinyls were one of the absolute best Australian bands in the 80s. Chrissy Amphlett was everything I aspired to be: powerful and in-your-face, a true rock chick and sexy as hell. She became my proof that a normal Australian woman could become more than someone’s wife and mother. That there were other options, women who went out there and grabbed life by the throat and defied all expectations. That’s what I wanted to do, and I thought she was bold and beautiful and fabulous. I still do.

Memorable Teenage Crush

With or Without You, U2, 1987

T was a gorgeous, shaggy haired Surfing God and he had both myself and my best friend head over heels. He went to camp for a week and we pined over this song. We were both good friends with him and part of his beach/surfing posse, but other than that, I’m not sure he even noticed we were female.

Hitting the Clubs

Male Stripper, Man 2 Man, 1987

Such a tacky song, but so much fun and my girlfriends and I used to have a ball vamping it up on the dance floor when it came on.

I Want Your Love, Transvision Vamp,1988

Another sassy blond I wanted to be. Wendy James was the girl’s pink marshmallow version of Debbie Harry. Punky, but softer around the edges. Not that I don’t love Ms Harry - she is the original Punk/Pop Priestess after all.

Express Yourself, Madonna, 1989

Madonna was my first icon and she taught me all I needed to know about Girl-Power. She may have had some errors of judgment (SEX book anyone - ick!), but she showed a whole generation of girls that we didn’t have to sit on the sidelines waiting for Prince Charming to come along and marry us. The lyrics to this song should be mandatory study for every teenage girl. It’s a shame the likes of Britney Spears and Paris Hilton copy Madonna’s blatant sexuality without actually taking on the empowerment and self respect that has always gone with it.

Teenage Rebellion

Sweet Child of Mine, Guns N Roses, 1987

This is probably still my favorite song of all time. Nothing else makes me stop whatever I’m doing like this track, and when I listen to it I am 17 again. I also used to love the way Axel Rose moved, which probably led to me falling for my first serious boyfriend because he danced the exact same way. Sex on legs.

Falling in Love for the First Time

Patience, by Guns N Roses, 1989

Like I said, my first love, J was also Gunners crazy and this song encapsulates this period of my life. Love, sex, panel vans and dying to grow up and be free.

Teardrops on the Dance floor, Womack and Womack, 1988

The most played song in the night clubs when I started going on a regular basis, and I still think it’s a cool track. I was under age, but I could always slide myself into some stockings, put on a teeny tiny skirt and sky high heels and take on the world. Big 80s hair and a tiny skirt. I think that’s what J fell in love with.

University Years

Groove is in the Heart, Dee Lite, 1990

In Australia, dance music was just starting to become popular in 1990 and this song was the biggest hit of that era. My girls and I would throw our handbags into a pile in the middle of the floor and dance in a circle around it. Everybody else just get out of the way. You couldn’t do this now because clubs are never big enough for the crowds, but back then and in Newcastle where I went to university, Leroy’s was one of the first multi-leveled night clubs and we’d dance on one floor then go downstairs and drink Illusion cocktails by the jug until we ran out of money or were too drunk to dance.

Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana, 1991

No one screams like Kurt. This is actually not my favorite Nirvana song, but it was the one that got me excited about the band and made me grunge obsessed.

Vogue, Madonna, 1990

Blue Sky Mine, Midnight Oil, 1990

Australia’s own “Rocker with A Conscience” was Peter Garrett and his band, Midnight Oil. These guys are an Australian institution. Talented. Fierce. Passionate. Political. My dad was a huge fan, so I was raised on the Oils and their unique combination of music and social activism. Peter is a politician these days and like many fans I find myself hoping he doesn’t destroy the faith and respect he garnered over the two decades of his musical career.

Death and Loss

Nothing Else Matters, Metallica, 1991

I loved this band in my rebellious teen years, as did my brother and stepbrother, D. When we lost D, the boys all wore Metallica t-shirts to his funeral in honor of a beautiful boy who died before he could become a man. After 16 years, I still can’t listen to this song without crying.

First Heartbreak

Too Many Fish in the Sea, The Marvelettes, 1964

“Don’t waste your time on a fella who doesn’t love you”. Or in my version: “Don’t waste your time on a fella who HITS you”. Need I say more. The perfect song to help you see sense after a messy break-up.

Life is a Highway, Tom Cochrane, 1991

This song and the road tripping video clip reminded me that there was a whole world out there to get excited about. I may have been single but that meant I was FREE!

First Full-Time Job / Flat mates / Being a Grown-up

Mr Jones, Counting Crows, 1993

This song has only good memories for me. New friends. New home. A proper paycheck. Endless possibility.

Miss World, Hole, 1994

Another ballsy rock chick. I guess it’s obvious why I used to like Courtney Love.

Heart Shaped Box, Nirvana, 1993

I was devastated at the death of Kurt Cobain and I must have played this song and the entire In Utero album 10 times a day, every day for a year.

A Small Victory, Faith No More, 1992

Mike Patton has such a distinctive voice and Faith No More were one of my favorite bands back then. I also like this clip because Patton is too sexy for words and my flatmate and I used to replay it over and over again so we could swoon.

Zombie, The Cranberries, 1994

A huge hit and an epic song that squeezes your heart and makes you feel the dread and anguish that life must have been like in Northern Ireland before the truce. One of my all-time favorites tracks. Make sure you check out the video clip, it’s amazing.

Meeting and Falling in Love with My Husband

Glycerine, Bush, 1996

It’s probably not surprising that I grew up to marry a musician and composer. I met my husband, Music Man, when I moved into his share house in Balmain, a harbourside suburb of Sydney. This area was traditionally inhabited by dockers, other tradesmen and their families and like all good working class suburbs it had a pub on every corner. My local (pub) had a few musicians and wannabe musicians and they all loved this song, so we couldn’t get it off the juke box.

Fire, Jimi Hendrix Experience, 1967

I’ve always liked Hendrix, but Music Man LOVES him and plays this song and many others on piano. My husband was the first and only person I have ever heard play a rock song with heavy bass on a grand piano. He rocks out and it sounds awesome. How could I not marry him?

Riders on the Storm, The Doors, 1971

The Doors are another of Music Man’s big musical influences. This song is hauntingly beautiful when he plays it, and I love to kick back and listen to it with my eyes closed.

My Wedding Song

Girl from Ipanema, Astrud Gilberto, 1963

Music Man has eclectic taste in music and he introduced this song to me. We chose it for our wedding because we wanted something different and it was the one song we would always slow dance to.

Travelling

Rockafella Skank, Fat Boy Slim, 1998

When I went to Europe in 1998, I could not escape this song and so I was introduced to the music of Fatboy Slim. When I hear this on the radio it makes me think of Beer Halls in Munich, getting stoned in Amsterdam and way too many bus rides.

Without You, Eminem, 2002

I liked this song when it first came out, but now it makes me want to scream. Even so, it was very popular with the young, posturing males in Mexico who liked to drive around playing it full blast with the windows rolled down. So despite how annoying I find it, it does make me smile and remember a really great time in my life - my first solo trip to Latin America.

Chop Suey, System of a Down, 2001

A favorite on my iPod, and a friend on many long and lonely bus rides through foreign lands.

Mr Bobby, Manu Chao, 2002

Manu Chao seemed to be THE ONLY choice in music for backpacking bums in Guatemala and Mexico. It played in every hostel, in beach huts on the lower Pacific Coast of Mexico and was the track that I downed a double shot of rum to right after I got held up at gun point in Antigua, Guatemala.

Motherhood

This is the music I used to cope with the challenges of being a new mother, while I wondered what I had got myself into and despaired of the world my son would grow up in.

American Idiot, Green Day, 2004

Amazing album. Great song for venting your rage and frustration.

Times They Are A Changing, Bob Dylan, 1964

Bob Dylan was another artist from my childhood, but I really grew to love his music when I discovered my baby son stopped crying whenever I put it on. I bought a cd of his greatest hits and kept it in my baby’s bag with the other essentials, like wipes and nappies (diapers).

The Pusher, Blind Melon, 1996

This is a cover on Nico, a little known album from Blind Melon, an under-rated band. This song is one of my favorite songs for driving and it was played a lot in my first year of motherhood as I drove to soothe my nerves and put my son to sleep.

The Best of You, Foo Fighters, 2005

I love Dave Grohl and I couldn’t do a music list without the Foo Fighters on it. Great song.

Current Favorites

Well Thought Out Twinkles, Silversun Pickups, 2007

I discovered these guys through my husband (of course) at the end of last year and this is the track I am currently wearing out on my iPod, though their other songs are great too.

This has been my music. My life. But I know I’m not the only person who can chart their life with the magic of song. What is the music that means something to you? Share your favorites with me and maybe we’ll find we have more in common than we thought.

Photo1 by xirrannisx, Photo2 by choupigloupi, Photo3 by oddsock, Photo 4 by destructor3521

Easter is over for the year and I hope you had a good one. Maybe this holiday held important religious significance for you, or maybe it was just a long weekend - a break from work and a chance to hang out with family and friends. For me, Easter is a time to focus on the ones I love, take stock of what’s important, whilst also giving thanks for all that I am blessed with.

This year, Easter had me thinking a lot about faith and the important role I believe it plays in everyone’s life. First, let me clarify what I mean by everyone needs faith. I am NOT saying everyone needs God or religion. I would not describe myself as religious, though I do have a strong faith. I believe the two are not the same thing.

To be religious, one follows the teaching of a particular religion. As I have never been baptized (my parents believed I should choose for myself when I was old enough) and I don’t follow the teachings of any particular church, I couldn’t be described as religious, though I definitely believe in God.

In writing this post, I have searched for a label to describe myself, though I am not sure why I feel the need. Perhaps it’s a sense of responsibility to clarify my ‘position’ before writing about a potentially sensitive topic, or maybe I’ve just been conditioned by the basic human need to define myself and my ‘kind’. At a base level, isn’t this what a religion does? It unites and labels a group of people as following an agreed upon belief system. By adopting the label, you are publicly stating which group you belong to so everyone knows.

I’ve searched for my group, but I’m having trouble because none of the labels seem to fit. I’m not an Agnostic or an Atheist. I thought I might be a Heathen, but upon examination, I am definitely not, and Pagan doesn’t seem right either because it’s often associated with witchcraft and being at one with the trees - two things I know very little about . The best