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

Sunday was Mothers Day in Australia, and I had the opportunity to revel in some well earned spoiling from my husband and son. I got to sleep in, had coffee in bed, feasted on pancakes for breakfast, and my gorgeous husband made Indian for me, my mom and stepfather that night.

Mothers Day used to be this obligation where I lamented the empty commercialization of it all and valiantly tried to remember to send a card so I wouldn’t feel guilty. But now that I am a mother I really get the importance of this day. Hell, mothers should be celebrated once a month, not just one day a year!

Mothers are the foundation upon which society is built. They give us life. Feed and nurture us. Teach us our most intrinsic values. Mothers are there to soothe the nightmares and possess the magic lips to kiss away the pain. These days they are also just as likely to be a provider for their families. When you really look at all this responsibility, all this giving, isn’t every mom that mythical creature called a Super Mom?

I’m not saying that every single mother out there is perfect or better than the dads in the family. I believe mothers and fathers possess different roles and different strengths, and one cannot replace the other. Both are important.

Today I’m Celebrating Mothers

The vast majority of them devote their lives to their children. They make sacrifices on a daily basis and struggle to have answers to questions that they may not have figured out for themselves. Too often society, and women themselves, expect perfection and all knowing wisdom from mothers. When the truth is you’re thrown in the deep end from day one, and physically you’re already sinking and you know you have to figure it all out right NOW!

But really you have no idea what you’re doing and you just put one foot in front of the other hoping you don’t fuck it up too much and you don’t send your kids into years of therapy. Me, I’m exhausted from trying to get it right. Now I’m aiming for not getting it TOO wrong.

My mom got a lot of things right. She’s not a perfect cookie cutter mother - if such a creature exists - and I think she’d admit she has some regrets, but my mother is one of my best friends and definitely my greatest ally. Her love and support are unconditional and she sees inside my heart even when I am too scared to look there myself.

My Mom and the Power of Kindness and Empathy

As I sit here reflecting on the gifts my mother has shared with me, many come to mind. But the most important lesson - the one that has brought the most joy and connection to my life - is the power of kindness and empathy.

My mom is one of those people everyone likes. It’s almost impossible not to like her. She is the flashbulb who lights up the room. The buzzing bee who sweeps around making sure everyone is comfortable and taken care of. The one who shares her smile and warmth, her pure generosity of spirit with everyone she meets.

I can’t claim to be as open as mom, but I definitely absorbed some lessons from her that have made a big difference in my life. I try to show my loved ones that I value them. I am generally pleasant and friendly to everyone, whether they are serving me in the supermarket, taking my coffee order or calling me for direct marketing purposes. I learned from mom that what goes around comes around so everyone benefits if you welcome the world with a smile and a kind and generous soul.

Here’s a few quick ways you can get into my mom’s giving spirit and add a little sunshine to people’s lives:

Smile FREELY and for no reason

Everyone wants to be liked and understood so why not relax and let someone talk. Let them get their story out. They’ll feel heard and acknowledged and you’ll send them out into the world in a better frame of mind

Don’t judge people who are different to you. This doesn’t mean you have to hang out with people whose actions you don’t agree with, but we can’t all agree so why get upset and angry about it

Say hi to people you see around your local neighborhood

Chat to that perfect stranger at the bus stop or in the queue, or on the long train commute to work. It doesn’t have to be a big in-depth conversation. A little small talk and shared banter can brighten everyone’s day

Greet the people who serve you and ask how their day is going

Be gracious toward the elderly. Yes, some people may ramble on sometimes but it can get pretty lonely at the end of your life. Start your good karma today

Let other cars into your lane in traffic. We all get stuck sometimes so what’s the big deal about letting someone go before you? It really won’t slow you down that much

Help struggling parents with strollers and/or shopping and roaming kids. if someone seems to have their hands full, it doesn’t hurt to ask if they need some help

Indulge kids with their sometimes nonsensical chatter and pull funny faces to make babies laugh. In both cases, your spirit will feel better

Offer to help someone with their bags

Donate to charity, and be empathetic to street people. You have no idea how they got there or what they’ve suffered. Don’t negate or add to their misery

Tell your friends and family you love them

Be generous with your warmth, laughter and goodwill

Do something nice for someone for no reason at all

When in doubt, forgive. We all mess up. We all fall down. But when we forgive those who have done us wrong we free them, and more importantly, we free ourselves

Here endeth the lesson. I love you mom.

 

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

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

I haven’t posted much humor lately, so I thought I’d put this up today because for some reason it really tickled my funny bone. It’s an oldie, but a goodie.

I think my husband has been hearing a lot of loud sighs and “Don’t worry about it” recently while I’ve been organizing our son’s birthday presents and celebrations. He can be very perceptive about picking up on my feelings, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he also heard the silent “Fuck You’s” as well. Then again, some of them may not have been that silent.

9 WORDS WOMEN USE

Fine

This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

Five Minutes

If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

Nothing

This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with Nothing usually end in Fine.

Go Ahead

This is a dare, not permission. Don’t Do It!

Loud Sigh

This is not actually a word, but it is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing.
(Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)

That’s Okay

This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. “That’s okay” means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

Thanks

A woman is thanking you, do not question it or faint. Just say you’re welcome.

Whatever

Is a women’s way of saying FUCK YOU!

Don’t worry about it, I got it

Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but she is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking “What’s wrong?”

For the woman’s response refer to #3.

Photo by wwarby

I came across this image on Photobucket and liked it, partly because of the sentiment, mostly because of the delicate sweep of the downcast eyes.

These eyelashes look like they’re frosted and they remind me of the butterfly kisses my son and I exchange. If you don’t know what butterfly kisses are, it’s when you put your eyes up close to someone else’s and flutter your eyelashes with their’s. It’s such as soft and flickering sensation, it’s like butterflies dancing across your eyes and cheeks.

The verse also stuck with me because it centres on an ideal that has danced off and on through my consciousness over the years and that is, “Do I believe in love at first sight?”

When I was a child, like most girls, I did. I believed one day I would meet the one and he would throw rose petals at my feet, slip diamonds on my fingers and sweep me away to live in his mansion where I would be kept in a style that I was keen to become accustomed to. Yes, this poor kid was only interested in a Prince Charming who was rich.

As I grew, this image of Prince Charming was influenced by raging hormones and morphed into that of a sexy rebel biker boy. Someone sweet, but misunderstood, who would throw a tattooed, careless arm across my shoulders, and kiss me until I was breathless, while whipping me around on his Harley Davidson motorcycle. Funny enough, this is a pretty good description of my first love.

Then, a few years into this relationship when the downside of the rebel biker became all too evident, I yearned for the soulmate. You know, the one you look at across a crowded room and just KNOW they are the man for you. The one your heart has been waiting for, the one who will know what you’re going to say before you say it and adore every little thing that you do.

The soulmate stage didn’t last long and 1.5 broken hearts later, I became a cynic. It was much safer I decided, than all this waiting around for men with bikes, white horses and soulful eyes. I decided lust was as good as you could hope for most of the time. In fact, it was better than love because you could trade in the object of your lustful attention for a new model every weekend if you wanted to.

Yes, I thought I had it all sorted. Nameless trysts, dancefloor pashes and hot taxi cab gropings. After all, I was a modern girl with a successful career; much too sophisticated to believe in fairy tales.

Then I made a simple decision to move to new share accommodation, and my life changed forever. I met a man who was quite unlike anyone I had ever known, and from the moment we shook hands I felt like I had known him my whole life, and maybe other lifetimes too.

He was too stereotypically good looking for my usual taste. And though I liked the fact that he was dreamy, philosophical and a talented musician, I was also confronted by his intensity. He always looked deep into my eyes when we spoke, he listened - really listened - and he encouraged me to challenge myself and pursue my dreams.

He seemed so perfect, yet so flawed, I didn’t dare hope he was real. So we became friends. But as the months went by and my interest in lusty trysts grew less and less, and the time spent with my flatmate grew more and more, I came to wonder if friends do indeed make the best lovers. Considering that this man has been my husband for almost 10 years now, I would say the answer is yes.

Back to the original question, I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight. Maybe some people have the ability to know what they need in a blink of an eye, but me, I need time. Love is something that has always taken me by surprise.

I do believe in Connection at first sight. But love, I’m not so sure. Love is a mysterious thing. It sprouts out of nowhere, can endure great hardship, then die so swiftly, so silently that it leaves you gasping and ruined in its absence. I think I am probably too guarded to believe in romantic ideals, but I am also too in love with my husband not to hope that our love has some kind of cosmic blessing.

In my definition, my husband is my soulmate because he’s my best friend, my lover, my sunshine, my shadow, and my parent in arms. He can definitely finish my sentences and guess what I’m thinking, but then after almost 12 years together that could be because he knows me like no other. And that’s romantic, isn’t it?

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Today is a great day for me because Zen Habits has published an article I wrote called The User’s Guide to Fabulous Friendships.I’m a big fan of Leo’s and am quite chuffed he asked me to guest post. Zen Habits not only has great articles, it has a very involved community of readers and there’s always interesting discussions going on. Hopefully, I can help contribute to that with this article, so why not go over and check out The User’s Guide to Fabulous Friendships.

I’d also like to add a personal note that this article truly comes from my heart and is dedicated to all the wonderful women I call friends. Some of you have been with me a very long time and have helped pick me up when I was broken and down. I thank you for your undying love and support, and please know that my life is brighter and bigger for your presence in it.

Kelly

PS. And thank you to all my online friends and readers who have sent their well wishes as I have slogged through two weeks of ill health. I’m on the mend and I appreciate you thinking of me.

Photo by riza

When I was a girl, my dad would play the guitar for my brother and I and sing our favorite folk songs before we went to sleep. He rarely yelled when we were in trouble and he was big on the “I’m disappointed in you” stare. For me, there was nothing worse than daddy being disappointed in me.

I can’t attest to how he was as a husband, but I remember being grateful that my dad was taking me to the beach and to music festivals while other kids had fathers who sat on the couch watching sport and drinking beer all weekend.

This week, Leo Babauta from Zen Habits told his readers they could ask him 100 Questions on any topic. This was what I asked him.

“What do you think are the qualities of a great husband and father, and are you happy with the job you’ve done so far?”

This is an extract from Leo’s answer:

“I think just a desire to spend time with your wife and children, and to love them and talk with them and have fun with them, is all that really matters. Also, accept them for who they are”

I’d agree with this, and I’d also add the following.

A Good husband and father…

puts his family first
shares parenting
guides his children to be good citizens
is honest, faithful and reliable
is able to admit when he is wrong
knows romance is not a slap on the ass and “how about it?”
is encouraging and supportive
leaves work at the door when he comes home
does his share of the household chores
knows his wife needs time out and hobbies too
listens and can communicate
shows his love and appreciation
is considerate, kind and forgiving

I am grateful that I have found someone to fill these shoes, and I try myself to reflect the SAME QUALITIES BACK TO HIM. Love is a complicated thing. Sometimes it’s easy and light, without a care in the world. Other times it’s a backbreaking slog through trenches of mud. Human beings are not infallible. Even the best of us can get lost and let our loved ones down. That doesn’t matter as long as MOST OF THE TIME we are empathetic and loving, trying to meet each other’s needs.

Marriage is about having each other’s back. About looking ahead and side stepping those trenches together. Or pulling each other out of the mud when it’s needed. Your list of a good husband and father might not look like mine, but I hope it resembles the man you’re living with. Because that’s as good as life gets.

Photo by sfbike

Mary at Goodlife Zen has a great post up at the moment: 7 Strategies for Good Luck. In it, she talks about the recent findings of an English University Professor, who did a study find out why some people are lucky, while others are not.

Richard Wiseman even ran a project called Luck School to see if participants could learn to be luckier, and what he found was that they could. His results show that people are not born lucky, some just know how to bring luck to them.

The article and the following commentary got me thinking: What is luck anyway? Whether I call myself lucky or not really comes down to perception; how I choose to see myself and others. And these views are not universal.

Some people might look at celebrities and think everyone would agree they’re lucky, but we don’t know what goes on in these people’s private lives. Just look at the recent trials of Britney Spears, and there’s a strong case that luck in one area may be a double edged sword in others.

Let me illustrate the importance of perception with three examples. Who do you think is the luckiest?

1. a man whose wife of 10 years has left him and taken their children, but the day after th