A few days ago I had some friends come out to Enfield for a casual lunch to celebrate a mutual friend's birthday. We were having a nice relaxing chat and before I knew it I again found myself talking about my family. It is both odd and tremendously disturbing how I so often find myself venting about my childhood. I am really good at telling myself that I have dealt with the pain of my childhood, so why do I always manage to bogart conversations and turn them towards myself just so that I can unleash some other terrifically horrid memory about my family dynamic onto others? 
Does the process of externalizing these unpleasant memories make it some how easier for me make sense of them? Does it make it all easier to digest when I hear it all from the outside of my head? I think so, although I am not really sure why I do it.
I don't need people to feel sorry me either, because I really do feel like a reasonably well adjusted adult. Maybe I just feel that if that I reveal the demons that dwell inside of me to people then they won't expect so much from me. They won't judge me so harshly when I get a bit loco and can't find my way, because I do do that from time to time. It's like I get a free ticket to be stupid and unhinged if people know that inside I'm really just a busted doll. 
And then my over-analytical mind goes into hyper-drive about it all. Did I say too much? Should I be letting people cast judgement, based on my personal demons, about my siblings? What does that say about me as a person? What kind of a person just goes around saying things like that anyway? Blahblahblahblah.... And so it goes around and around in my head for days on end. 
For all of the times that I have told myself that I am okay with what happened in my childhood, what I really meant was that I forgive my family for what happened to me in my childhood. All of them, for the shit that they did to me. I forgive them for saying and doing all of the crap that they did, and for all of the hurt that they inflicted because I can't hold onto that anger and resentment, it doesn't serve me in any way.
Unfortunately, even though it also doesn't serve me,  I just can't let go of all the damage that it has done to me, or the hurt that I feel when I think about it. I can forgive, but I can't forget because my brain simply won't allow that to happen. I can't turn off the broken bits that ache when I poke them; that I cannot do, but I can forgive them, and I can try harder to stop dwelling in the past and rehashing the dark bits, because there is no peace of mind to be found there. 
I honestly do want to move forward with my family. I need to still the waters of my past so that it may flow more calmly under the bridge, and I must learn to accept my demons, for they will truly always be a part of who I am. For better and for worse, 'til death do us part. 

THE WITCH
Release Date: 2015
Rating: MA 15+
​Running Time: 93 mins 
An intelligent and visually striking piece of work, The Witch is a movie that will divide its audiences. Many will appreciate its slow burning tension and sense of impending doom, others will find it completely dissatisfying, especially if they have come looking for a quick thrill. As far as period horrors go, The Witch is second to none, encapsulating all of the religious hysteria and devout ritual that came with that time and turning it inward and against itself. 
In 1630, a pious New England family find themselves alone on a remote property, situated on the outskirts of the woods. When strange things start to occur the family turn on each other in an attempt to make sense of what is going on, but this only seems to escalate events and amplify their complete isolation. 
This film is genuinely creepy and unsettling, and even though we as the viewer know what is going on, it is still difficult not to question the sanity and morality of the characters as things begin to escalate. Like a rotten apple with a worm in it, this film left me with a disturbed and revolted feeling.
​The soundtrack and the stark landscape all add greatly to the dark tone of the movie; I thought that the note at the end of the film that explained that the events depicted were based on folktales, diary entries and notes collected from that time was an interesting addition, proving that even though The Witch was set in a time that pre-dated the Salem Witch Trials of 1693, it was evidently a time that was cultivating years of female oppression and mass religious hysteria. 
FINAL SAY: Black Phillip, Black Phillip, a crown grows out of his head. 
3.5 Chili Peppers ​

Joined the ranks of the Fitzroy hipsters over the weekend and went to Melbourne to stay with my sister and niece for a couple of days. There's nothing like sipping a soy latte on a lazy Sunday morning and sharing breakfast with numerous beardy men with laptops and pretty girls with bright lipstick and groovy shades to really lift your spirits and drag you out of your small town funk.  And let's not forget  to mention the wonderful opportunity to indulge in some seriously good people watching. I don't think that the people watching gets much better anywhere else than it does in Fitzroy. It sure is an eclectic melting pot where anything and everything goes, which does make for extremely good human behaviour observations. 
Zoe and Seth joined me for the weekend away, so we headed over to the Melbourne Museum to see The Jurassic World dinosaur display whilst we had the chance. Wow! Really impressive stuff, my only criticism being that it was over too quickly. I would have been happy for it to have gone on for another hour or so, but alas it was not that extensive, but what was there, was very, very good.
When those doors opened up and the lady announced "Welcome to Jurassic World" and I caught my first glimpse of a dinosaur, I was seriously mesmerized! As my sister said, everyone reverts back to a state of childlike wonder when they get an eye full of those animatronic dinosaurs for the first time,  it's so cool. 
Rounded out our trip with a spot of indulgent shopping, some delicious Japanese cuisine, a little too much whiskey and hours of hilarious Cards Against Humanity - a truly perfect mini break and a fabulous weekend!

God I love the school holidays!
It is so nice to be able to catch up on all of the things that I have put off for the better part of a term. Just having the chance to spend a bit of time laying in bed, reading a book and sipping coffee in the mornings, lingering over long lunches and indulging in all of my personal vices...ahhhh... it is truly heaven on a stick. 
I really don't envy people that only get four weeks of leave a year, it is bloody criminal. Four weeks a year is really not enough leave to sate anyone's need for a break. Only 20 work free days out of 250 odd possible work days per year is ridiculous. Who came up with the five day working week anyway? It is clearly not a very balanced set up is it? Four on and three off seems a bit more fitting, and if you are going to put in five days a week, then you should get a couple of weeks every quarter to recharge the batteries and indulge in doing fun stuff. Besides it is also the time when everyone's kids are on holidays, and it seems so unfair to make parents miss out on valuable holiday/bonding time with their kids. We need to have another look at this crappy annual leave system, I would guarantee that people would be a shit load happier if they got a break every quarter, and probably a lot more productive too. 
My holiday breaks are like holy days to me. I use them to the very best of my ability to not only take some rest and recovery time, but to also reconnect with family and friends and to get some purely self orientated things done. I am a huge advocate for doing things that serve no real purpose but to make you feel good; self time is vital to a happy and fulfilling life.
Since holidays started five days ago, I have started a new painting and a new novel, almost completed knitting a scarf that I started about a year ago and binge watch a couple of TV series. I have managed to frame the art pieces that I brought back from Singapore, and I finally got all of my photos developed from the trip too, just need to put them into an album now. I've had a delicious lunch with a friend, gone shopping, cleaned the house from top to bottom, stripped and cleaned out the spare room wardrobe and of course, gone to the movies. Not what I would I call a waste of time, and God I am thankful for the time to do it! 
Been a while since I saw anything at the movies that I deemed good enough to put onto my Hall of Fame list, especially a children's film, but it has happened. If you are taking any kids to see a movie these holidays, I cannot recommend this film enough, it is amazing. Go see it on the big screen while you can. 

One of the unfortunate side effects of not having anyone you can really trust or confide in as a kid, is that you have to work everything out for yourself. My siblings were always pretty forthright about not liking me very much as a kid, and whenever I did put my trust in them growing up, I was always rewarded with broken confidences and a lot of hot water as a consequence.
In turn, that meant that I made a shit load more mistakes along the road to becoming an adult than the average person has made, or needed to make, in order to become a reasonably functioning member of society. I did find myself in a lot more trouble, and I did continue to do things that others saw as 'stupid shit' and I did hate myself for being such a chronic fuck up, especially throughout my early teenage years, when the tests and the mistakes seemed to come at their thickest and fastest. 
If no-one is watching out for your best interests or helping you with the decision making, you will screw up colossally and regularly. I was a total fuck up in my early teens, I swung between self involved and stupid, and I did some tremendously dangerous and dumb things along the way. But what I did have going for me, was the fact that I learnt from my mistakes. I never made the same mistake twice, but I did have a lot of first time fuck ups. Fortunately I dodged a few bullets as well, and I found my feet eventually, so I was one of the lucky ones. 
It's the kids that never learnt from their mistakes that scared me the most growing up, they were the real rebels in my mind. They were the ones who would step over the line and then jump over it three more times,  even after they had been caught. These were the kids that did not seem to have any conscience or any thought about the consequences or ripple effects that they were creating. They were the kids that weren't just being stupid, they were being outright bad arses without a thought for tomorrow or any other moment to come.
​I have known a few kids like that in my lifetime, and they grew up to be really scary adults. I also know for a fact that they were never supervised or instructed by anyone responsible when they were growing up, and that they have perpetuated that cycle in an almost textbook like fashion. 
You see, you can find out about the world by yourself, but it isn't fun or pretty. However, if you lack the skills to learn from your own mistakes as you go, well then you're just doomed really. Nothing that I know of can ever really fix that level of broken in a person, I think that it can't ever really be repaired. And I suppose that the skill to learn from my mistakes was the only thing that pull me back from a doomed future. I have to say that I am grateful that my parents managed to generate a sense of self ownership for my actions and a nagging conscience in me, because when all's said and done, it really did save me on so many occasions from a terrible fate. 

The bi-annual school concert last night went really well. Apart from a few minor hiccups, which one can only expect when we're talking about wrangling 300 odd tired primary school kids through two major performances that didn't end until 10pm. All things told, it was actually really good. Even the staff all pulled together, costumed up and managed to produce a reasonably decent dance routine to the original theme song from Ghostbusters, complete with a silly string squirting slimer character that managed to delight and also freak out some kids. And just like that, it is over and done with for another 2 years, and I can't say that I am not glad to have it all done and dusted. 
Knocked things back a bit today, kids (and staff) were all really tired so the expectation to be super productive was on the low down, which I was grateful for. Rocked up in my comfy clothes knowing that it was not going to be my most professional work day ever, and nestled in for the morning with the kids that did make it to school to watch Fantastic Mr Fox. Those of you that have visited my 'Hall of Fame' list would know that it is the only children's movie to have made that list, and it is a movie that is sincerely near and dear to my heart. Directed by one of my all time favourite directors Wes Anderson, and written by one of my favourite children's authors Roald Dahl, how can it not be a winner? 
Anyway, this term I read the Fantastic Mr Fox novel with a number of children in reading groups, and had promised them a viewing of the film. Today seemed like the best day to indulge in that promise since it is the end of the term and everyone was knackered after last night's stint, but I didn't even realise that it was also the 100 year anniversary of Roald Dahl's birthday yesterday. This made it seem like it was not only amazingly appropriate to view the film today in homage to his book, but downright necessary!  And so it was, I sat at work this morning sipping coffee and sharing one of my favourite children's movies of all time with a bunch of Grade 5/6 kids. A bloody nice way to spend a Wednesday morning if I do say so myself.
​So cheers to you Mr Dahl, thanks for being such an awesome writer and leaving behind such an amazing body of work that is still enchanting children and adults like me, one hundred years on. 

This weekend I gave myself permission to do as little as possible. I had a few odds and ends to do for work, since it is only a week until the Spring holidays begin, but aside of that, I have tried to avoid all manner of extra chores and labour intensive activities.
I did tidy up a little bit, mainly because I can't relax when the house looks like I'm in the middle of a game of Jumanji, but that's about all that I did do. The rest of the time I have just fluffed about doing whatever took my fancy, which was mostly watching movies, drinking whiskey and lying around on the couch. Nice! 
I don't give myself permission to do nothing very often, I usually feel really guilty if I am not doing anything. I hate feeling like I have wasted the weekend by not doing anything that has purpose, but nope, this weekend I did things that had absolutely no real purpose at all.
Craig helped me to get my Cosplay action on. I needed a Ghostbusters costume for the school performance next week (don't ask), so Craig went all out and made me the best proton pack ever! Seriously, it looks amazing and lights up and everything, the geek in me wants more opportunity to rock that shit out than a two minute dance in the school concert! The whole get up looks pretty kick arse if I do say so myself, turns out that having hours to fart around this weekend turned out to be somewhat beneficial to my concert costume requirements because we kind of went all out.  
Anyway, time for me to retire back to the couch, I'm also giving myself permission to not write too much on my blog this weekend, which means less for you to read too. So go and make yourself a coffee and put your feet up, you deserve a break too, give yourself permission to unplug. 

Went to start my car after school today and the key in the ignition just went click...click...click...and that was that; I wasn't going anywhere in a hurry. Obviously it had to be a battery problem, right? So naturally I called Craig who was already having a day from hell judging from the way that he received my crisis call for help, so he had to dash off and get Seth from school before coming to my aid. 
Anyway, yes, it was a battery issue, a rather big one really. The battery had kind of half exploded and there was all this corrosive acid shit all over the shop, but I didn't realise that until we had somehow (still dunno how we did this) managed to jump start it and get it home to Enfield, where it promptly died in the driveway and refused to be roused again.  So, it was another trip back into town for Craig to purchase a new battery and viola! Two hours and two hundred bucks later and the crisis was averted. 
The really weird thing about it though, is that Zoe's car broke down on the way home to Geelong on Sunday and it too was her battery, which had to be replaced. So Penelope and Serenity both had their batteries fluff out this week, how hilarious that even our cars are in sync! 
I think that our vehicles may be manifesting our emotions for us, because I am fast approaching my 'fluff out' limit too. As the term reaches it's twilight weeks and the looming bi-annual concert grows ever closer, I too think that my battery is beginning to wane. If the state of the staff morale at work is anything to go by, it's a wonder my battery has already given up the ghost.
But never fear, holidays and the prospect of two work free weeks also loom, and that is something to get super happy and enthusiastic about. Bring it on I say, I am going to go full on recharge mode this break, and get my battery back up to 100% charged again; only seven working days to go, I got this shit! 

It's a question as old as time, and one that has defied all measure of intelligence and logic. It's kept dad's up all night and mum's dishing out lectures for generations. Why do seemingly well raised, well educated, bright, pretty girls find dangerous and clearly not very good guys so attractive? And does this phenomenon even exist today? Do good girls in this day and age still really like bad boys?
When a lot of women hear the words bad boy, their thoughts immediately go to some tattooed, tall, dark, mysterious man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a motorcycle between his thighs, but this is utter fantasy, there really aren't a lot of bad boys that fit that bill these days, it's not 1950 anymore. 
These days the average bad-boy has his pants hanging down too far, gaps in his teeth, probably has a few tattoos, and maybe a criminal record story to go with them, and I would imagine that he could have a drug problem too. When he gets old, he will have a beer gut and he will be balding, if he lives that long. Not that sexy, and certainly not what women are lusting after to my knowledge.
There is also the thought that women are attracted to bad boys because they are dangerous, forbidden and confident. ​If your idea of dangerous is being chased by the law, drug muling or developing a penchant for crack, then, well yeah, bad boys can be exciting and dangerous. They can also be forbidden when you are struggling to get visitation rights at a maximum security prison, and there's nothing like an arrogant over-confident douche-bag to get a women's juices really flowing. 
To be honest, I really don't think that women are that attracted to bad boys anymore. Maybe the idea of what a bad boy is, but the realities are just so blah that no sane woman would ever contemplate taking one on seriously. I think women are far more attracted to power and potency than bad boys as such.
Not that many bad boys have power and potency in abundance these days. Sure there may still be some bad boys out there dropping chick's knickers at an alarming rate, but I think that most nice girls are looking for more stability than that. They want a guy that isn't interested in continual personal endangerment, they would prefer that he has some kind of a stable job and that he generally takes a bit of pride in himself. Good girls want a man that will also do their best to take care of them, and bad boys are not generally known to embody much care for the needs of other in general. 
Good girls really don't take bad boys seriously anymore, the bad boy image has become an archaic dream. When James Dean and Marlon Brando were making girls go gaga by wearing leather and being reckless in fast vehicles, things were a bit simpler. It was a time when even the baddest of boys could still get employment at the local factory and earn a buck, none of them were addicted to drugs or sugar which meant that they had their own teeth and could get better, not worse, with age, and their idea of bad was just a few bad choices by today's standards. 
Today bad boys are not sexy, they are mostly douche-bags and losers. Every smart, young lady knows that bad boy, douche-bag types come in dozens, and no matter how cool or exciting they may seem, they need to have other important attributes to be considered keepers. Looking cool, playing in a band and doing reckless things just aren't enough anymore. Good girls demand a hell of a lot more than that now. 
So, in light of all that, I ask again, do good girls really still like bad boys? I'm going to say, yes. Yes, I think that they probably do still like them, but they just don't take they very seriously anymore, those days are truly over. Being bad just ain't what it used to be. 

CRY BABY
Release Date: 1990
Rating: M
Running Time: 85 mins 
A musical romance written and directed by John Waters, that is an ode to the 1950's rebel genre. A nod to a time when rock and roll music, motorcycles and leather jackets were outraging parents and setting teenage girl's hearts on fire. 
Set in 1954, in Baltimore, a subculture group called the "drapes" is constantly rubbing the "squares" up the wrong way, especially when their notorious and rebellious leader "Cry Baby" Wade Walker hooks up with one of the nicest girls in town, Allison. 
Johnny Depp is perfectly cast here as Cry Baby, hamming it up and playing the role of the handsome 'bad boy' juvenile delinquent with a lot of humour. And although this is just another 'why do good girls like bad boys?' love story; it is fun, fresh and quirky in the way that only John Waters movies can be.
​Keep your eyes peeled for all of the cameos that pop their heads up along the way here, including Iggy Pop and even Traci Lords. This film is so odd that it actually works; don't take it seriously, just sit back and enjoy the music and the fabulous rockabilly fashions that have made this film into the cult classic that it is today. 
FINAL SAY: I'm so tired of being good. 
3 Chili peppers ​