The Fasting Of The Hands

Jamie and I recently had a 'non traditional' hand fasting ceremony with our friends & family here in Indiana. A year ago on that same day we 'ran' away to Des Moines, Iowa and legally got married with our friends Linda & Joe as our witnesses. It was a whirlwind of a weekend filled with birthdays and marriages and we decided that we would do a big celebration 'later'. Fast forward a year and life and time had gotten away from us and with only about 6 weeks to go we pulled off the most magnificent celebration with a cast of friends who jumped in to help us and be a part of it all. From Linda allowing us to use the Peaceful Grounds barn, to the crew at Marion County Fairgrounds who bent over backwards to make room for us , to our other Linda (Linda F as she will now be known) accepting our request that she drive from Iowa to come marry us (or 'fast' us as it will now be known) to Cara, John, Holly & Matt gifting us a shit tonne of beer, to the gift certificate for awesome wine that Scootie gave us, to Tracey jumping into the deep end at the last minute and being up for cooking all the food for us, to our camping friends Megan, Bethany, Kelly & Lori helping us to set everything up on Saturday and to everyone who stayed overnight to help us break down the next day....to the crew and all their kids that turned up to help us celebrate, to Ashre for having a reunion and drumming for us, Alayna for getting up on stage and singing for us, Cara for singing for us and thereby letting us do some mushy lovey dancing....it was a magical weekend and we want to do it all again next week. 

As you will see by this photo, we were very happy :). Our hand fasting ceremony included ribbons filled with messages of love and wishes for us from our friends & family from all over the world that were mailed in, some arriving the day of the ceremony, and used as our 'binds' to connect us, in our love, to our community. 

There was not one thing I would change.....except to make it last longer perhaps. 

In joy, and love

Martine

Shooting up the place...

I'm sitting in the waiting room at the Marion County Health Department waiting to have a vaccine. I really don't like having vaccines, especially ones I've already had. But my green card application requires me to have a list of vaccines and unfortunately I have no vaccination record from when I was 13 and had the MMR shot at school. I had a TDAP vaccination two days ago and that really made me feel sick...my body doesn't enjoy poison. My hope is that this one doesn't do the same thing coz this girls got shit to do today. 

This is just one step in the whole green card process that started with paying $3600 to my lawyer last month. If you ever hear anyone in the US complaining that immigration is too easy please, on my behalf, tell them it ain't so. Not only are there huge costs involved but mountains of paperwork, photos, bank statements, letters from friends proving our relationship, a bazillion passport photos..and lots of needles. 

I am finding solace, as I sit here surrounded by masses of school aged children waiting for their shots, in my ABC and my pretty blue nails.

Oh dear, I sounded so girlie then. It must be the vaccine...

xM

What she does....

My sweetheart Jamie and I are at the Marion County Fairgrounds pretty much everyday this week as part of the 9 day fair. We will be based in the Peaceful Grounds Pavillion where Jamie will be making her art everyday for people to watch. I caught this shot this afternoon...this little girl was mesmerized as she watched her create. I was amazed by how intensely she watched, not distracted by any other noise or attraction around her (Jamie too). Together they followed the board as Jamie carved and it felt right...like the art that she was creating was mesmerizing and no doubt calming to her little heart . It was beautiful and I felt proud of my love, for doing what she loves and drawing people who love what she does...it's a yummy circle of love. 

Come say hi if you are coming out to the Fair this week. 

Xm

I've got worms....

It's true....and it's probably the weirdest thing I've ever purchased. Well...almost. 

My worms, all 2000 of them, arrived by mail today. I was all worried for them traveling via the postie but I opened the bag and there they were..all wriggly and shit. They look pretty awesome...and I felt very proud as I threw them on top of the new house I had made for them. They burrowed down instantly and I imagined them, all hungry and parched from their trip, enjoying the sweet veggies, banana peels, peet moss, top soil and paper nest I made for them. 

It's weird because I want to keep checking them but I know that's not what they need. They need some alone time now. Some time to check out their surroundings, eat a little and then get to mating!!!

I wonder if people grow up wanting to be professional worm farmers? 

Xxm

Metamorphosis...or, keep on slidin

I've been having an interesting journey with music the last 18 months. After playing, writing and performing my entire adult life...I'm tired. 

Actually, let me define that a little more.

I'm not tired of playing on stage, I'm not tired of plugging my guitar in and singing my heart out to an audience, or of having one of those moments when you connect with an audience and you see your song hit their heart in the same way it fell out of yours. I'm not tired of working with a promoter that's passionate and excited about the show and what they, and we, are trying to do. I'm not tired of hearing the awesome stories people share with me or the laughter we share together. I'm not tired of traveling or of meeting new people and going to see a new town, city or community. There's nothing better than witnessing a new community with the locals, seeing it and hearing about it from them firsthand. Knowing that I can perform a song that I have written, that means a lot to me and have it reach into someone else's life & heart and effect them is still an awesome part of this job. 

But, it is that, it's a job. 

Sure it's a passion, but it's a job. 

Sure I feel blessed, but it's a job.

Sure I love performing, but it's a job.

Imagine turning up to your job on a regular basis and your boss telling you that they can't afford to pay you today because they spent too much money on the piece of equipment that you are working on, or the fancy rolling chair you might be sitting on. Imagine being asked, after 20 years of doing your job, that they figured you'd work for free because it's your passion, or you need the exposure, or 'it would just be fun'. (All the while holding a $6 cup of fancy Starbucks coffee in their hand.) 

These days, I'm afraid to say, I see it coming. An email or a phone call usually starts with a bazillion years of background information that moves onto how much I will love it and why. A splash of guilt rendering commentary is thrown in about this fundraising effort or that....and right at this moment, I brave myself, because I know it's coming. (Might I add, any gig that is paid usually goes along these lines: 'we want you, this is how much we will pay you.' End of story.)

'We don't have the funds to pay the artists.'

'we have spent all our available funds on the lighting and sound.'

'All the other artists are playing for free, so....'

'We can pay one act and that act is a band.'

'We never pay our performers and don't need to start now.'

'We are raising funds for ______(insert cause).'

'We are not sure if we are going to have money left after everything else is paid for.'

'This will be awesome exposure (but we're not sure we can spell your name correctly for all the advertising we have purchased.)'

I can't even bring myself to tell you the other things that people have told me about why they need me to play for free.

I always want to have 'that' conversation to ask how they pay their rent...or if they are lucky, mortgage, electricity, phone, internet, food bills. Whether they can afford insurance. I would love to teach a wonderful lesson about why no one else is expected to do a job and not get paid for it, so why should we? 

But I'm tired. 

I'm tired of being asked to play for free. I'm tired of explaining.

I feel the life sucked out of me every time, my heart break just a little more and my resolve to keep playing music whittle down bit by bit. I'm finally starting to realize why people stop playing music and go and get a 'real' job....because a huge chunk of people believe that this ISN'T a real job. 

After 20 years of moving along just like this caterpillar...head down, focused...I feel like this conversation is old. I'm almost tempted to not respond anymore when I'm asked to play for free. But I just don't work that way. So, I pull my big girls socks up and start my reply. 

I think I'm just going to start sending a link to this blog post.....

FYI, You will find me grouchy if you ask me to play for free right now....

Green Card Signings

The Green card contract was finally signed today....it's always a moment of 'gulp' in that it's a lot of money and a lot of work from here on out. Now I am going to be staying put in the US for the rest of the year (a requirement), the doctors appointments have to be booked (funny, after 14 years of living here they require me to have a whole list of vaccinations and want to know if I am physically & mentally sound), the 'marriage' interviews will be scheduled (I use a red toothbrush honey), the pages and pages of supporting evidence will be filled out in double and we will both be signing our information away.

See, gulp, right?

It feels very serious and very adult. I'm so use to going through the motions of my visa every three years that it seems old hat now....but this is a whole other beast. The questions they ask are invasive, the assumptions they make that we are lying about our relationship to obtain a green card are extreme and unnecessary but, here we are. What this means is that I won't need to submit and pay $3000 every three years but my $4000 contribution will give me about 10 years and then after 3 I can move onto citizenship if I want. Of course, because we haven't been legally married for more than 2 years all of this will give me a 'conditional' green card and we will have to go back and have another appointment to prove that we are still together in a years time. You know..incase we were lying.

Sometimes I am over this 'jumping through hoops' but I have done it for so many years now that I'm not going to know what hits me when I move from 'non resident alien' to 'resident alien' and my drivers license, social security # and taxes won't be subjected to extra scrutiny because of my status.

Anyway. As I sit here in our home, with a sweet breeze blowing through our window and my wife sitting across from me creating a new piece of art, I am grateful. So many others have lived lives separated because they haven't legally been able to be with the one they love and this has never been my reality.

Incase you missed it, here is our green card fund from last year and if you are looking for some new art, this might be a way we can help each other. The piece Jamie created for this will never be produced again and you can buy the original or buy a copy of the original here: http://www.gofundme.com/3u4ajs

The Pulling

I'm sitting here as I type, 'oil pulling'. I purposely took a teaspoon of coconut oil, stuck it in my mouth, and have sat here for the last 13 minutes swishing it around in my mouth. 

It feels weird....and big. It's getting bigger in my mouth.....or should I say, the one teaspoon of oil feels like it's about ten right now. 

Yes, yes...I can hear you. 

Why am I doing this? 

Well, it's one of those 'things'. You know, those 'things' you read about that reasonate with you and you feel like you need to try. Supposedly the health benefits of oil pulling are many but it's a pity the thought of sky diving didn't reasonate with me because that sounds far more exciting than this does. 

I have four minutes to go now.not that I'm counting, really. I like the taste of coconut, I can feel the liquid increasing in my mouth as all the studies said it would...so, you know, it's doing something...right? I will report back in a few weeks and tell you. Of course, this is providing I remember to do it every day...that might be the trick. 

We are back in the USA, back in our home, in our bed. I love travelling, I miss Australia already, but there's nothing better than my bed and my own space. I have been outside since the morning after we got back mowing the lawn, removing remnants of winter, making pallet gardens and getting ready to plant vegetables. It's how I am keeping myself awake and how I am trying to get my feet planted back in this ground. 

20 minutes is up. Time to spit out. 

XM

Ocean Healing

There's something that happens to me when I return to my homeland every year. Actually, there are a few things that happen to me. I feel safer, more relaxed and weirdly enough, more confident. I don't find myself being as overwhelmed as I sometimes do in my US home. I think it's a combination of being nearer to my family and friends I have known deeply for 15-20 years, being near the ocean, eating healthy food, having easy access to healthcare, getting paid well to perform, breathing clean air and waking to the sounds of birds that I have known my whole life.

I have felt my confidence wain a lot over the last few years. Repeatedly having to explain to people why I can't do every show for free, why I need to charge something, anything, for the craft I have been working on for 25 years, something I 'should' just be passionate about (as if being passionate about my art would just magically pay my rent without them having to pay me). Feeling the stress in my chest when I sense the need to have that conversation and either justify why I should be paid or be willing to walk away from the job without even bothering to have the conversation. This experience has worn me down. Worn me to the point that sometimes I barely want to play music.

Applying for a mortgage last year was also a pretty demoralizing experience. Having people look through my finances and look at me with a puzzled 'you're kidding, right?' look on their face. For the 14 years that I have lived in the USA I have paid my bills on time and built a great credit score, saved my money and put together a deposit, paid twice as much in rent as I would have on a mortgage and was still told that it wasn't good enough. I think I'm still getting over that. I hear the voices of critics and fear-filled people who have lived their lives safely, whispering in my ear speaking of failures and futures and I have allowed them more real estate than I should have. Now I am trying to undo that and relocate them and their beliefs back to their own land. 

Being near this ocean brings me home. To myself, to my dreams. Brings healing and wipes off the energy of beliefs that aren't my own. Diving into it is like being in the arms of the most powerful healer I know. It cleans me and prepares me for another 'go' around. Until my life and my world bring my family and I to the place where this can be a daily occurrence and not a yearly one. 

When that day comes this will just be a swim....in a glorious ocean. 

XxM 

Bali Life

So, this crazy thing happened about a week ago. Actually, it started about two weeks ago with a dinner with our mates Kerrie & Grace, who had just returned from Bali. They cooked us this awesome Balinese inspired feast and we got to drinking and eating and after a lot of wine decided that we needed to go to Bali together over Easter. We were excited and full of dreams about what it would look like, until the next morning when we all sobered up a little and realized that K & G's work schedules weren't really going to let it happen. 

So, we went on our way and kept talking about the time we 'almost' went to Bali. It wasn't until a week later when I was doing a budget for a trip we were going to make up the coast of Western Australia for a couple of shows and some r&r time with a friend. The gigs weirdly enough fell through. We were still planning on going when we had the realization that it was going to cost us as much in car hire and petrol as it would to fly to Bali. 

Crazy, no? 

Everyone else will tell you that of course it costs more to travel Australia than it does to come to Bali. 

So, guess where we are?

Yup, Bali. 

I still can't quite believe it. Here's something about me....pretty much every holiday I have had as an adult (except for one, 12 years ago) gets built around my gigs. That's the way I can travel. I live on an artists earnings for goodness sake so I have always needed to gig in order to make the travel happen. As we sit here in Seminyak in our private villa, with our private pool, eating dinner that was put together by our maid earlier..I can't believe it. This kinda holiday happens to other people. Not to me. 

And I am so in love with this place already. (Having the privacy of our villa, the refreshing pool, the glorious mosquito net around our bed, the food I haven't had to cook and the $1.65 beer I am enjoying  drinking sure helps that love affair). Most of my Aussie friends have been here, while they were coming to Bali 10+ years ago I was saving my money to go to America to tour. A lot of my Aussie mates are quite over the novelty of Bali..but I am just beginning. I am amazed at the dirtiness of the 'sacred' beaches....(as in, beaches you can't swim in because they are deemed sacred by the locals, but they are littered with so much trash it's astounding). I'm amazed that even on the equivalent of $1000 a YEAR earnings, the people seem very happy. I'm amazed that I can get a massage for $7.50 and buy a billabong t-shirt for $3. I'm amazed that the entire fridge of food our maid, Putu, bought for us cost maybe $20. I'm amazed that it only cost us $500 to get here.....to this sweet, sometimes dirty, happy island. 

I feel very blessed. I feel unbelievably thankful that my sweet wife believed that we would get here and her belief and trust that it would all work out, got us here. I feel blessed that I get to share this paradise with her and her Cherokee heritage ever browning skin (even as I sit here still as pale as can be...thanks English heritage skin) and her warm, beautiful smile.  This is our honeymoon. I married her. We sit in paradise. I can't quite believe it. 

Thank you. 

Our Mums

I spent the whole day with my mum today. 

It was horrible. 

See, even as I type that word I feel guilty about it.

No-one died (came close to being a murder a few times). Yes, we all still have our limbs. No kittens were sacrificed.  So on the scale of 'horrible things that could happen', it was on the low end in the world scheme of things. 

But for me, it was horrible. It was tough. Frustrating. Infuriating. Emotional. I had trouble getting my mind around some things she said and did. I had trouble finding my compassion and by the end of the day, finding my patience. I wanted it to end. And I felt guilty all day for wanting it to end.

If you don't know, my mum has dementia.  This disease sucks because it seems to present differently with each person and, in my experience, the degrees in which it presents can change hourly. It steals some of her long term memories some days and replaces them with others on other days. Sometimes she forgets something the moment she's asked it. Other times, particularly when challenged it seems, she can completely remember an entire conversation.  It causes her to ask the same question or tell the same story over and over again. I heard 'there use to be koalas in all these trees' and 'can I have a cigarette now' about 57 times today...said like they were never said before, with no recollection of it the second time around. 

Our entire 9 hours felt driven by her addictions. Every hour I argued with her about something she wanted then and there (usually a cigarette) or I had to remind her that she had already had whatever it was she wanted. My mum has always had an addictive streak. She loved to gamble and there were many nights in our lives as kids where she left us to go gamble (along with my father). Together they lost hundreds of thousands of dollars....they lost our home, their businesses, our entire inheritance and my mum, just like my dad, will die penniless wondering how her life came to this. She wonders that question out loud all the time and now, with her disease, there's no point even telling her the truth. She won't believe any of us. According to her, everyone else did all those things...not her. 

She has become the ultimate victim. 

If you know these five things about my mum you will know who she is right now. 

1. She loves to smoke and would most likely give up her firstborn for a cigarette (sorry bout your luck Ali). 

2,3,4. She is now also wildly addicted to mentos, lip balm and farmers union iced coffee. If she doesn't have those on her at all times, she freaks the fuck out. 

5. She constantly complains about how lonely she is and how she never sees anyone and no one ever talks to her. She will tell me that tomorrow even though I spent 9 heartbreaking hours with her today...and I'm pretty sure she didn't ask me one question all day. 

It fucking sucks. 

The biggest reason it sucks? 

It's not her. 

Oh don't get me wrong, she's always been narcissistic, needy and had a whopping gambling/iced coffee/smoking addiction but at least she used to have a sense of humor about it. She used to be cheeky and witty and would always have a joke about something. (Mostly dumb jokes but, ya know). She would play the fool for the laugh (her favorite thing to do when I was a kid was play 52 card pick up - she would throw a pack of cards in the air and then tell us kids to pick them all up). She would always be up for an adventure. (She flew over to see me in the US when she was 70 and got off the plane physically devastated because it's the longest amount of time, since she was a teenager, that she went without a cigarette. But she was ready to see my life and meet my friends.)

This week, the only smile I got out of her was this morning when I finally gave in to her begging me for her second cigarette in 15 minutes. She clapped her hands together like a little kid, did this weird tongue poking out thing and smiled a big smile. 

It really hurt my heart. 

She didn't smile when she saw me for the first time in a year. 

She cried and told me she was lonely. 

She didn't smile when I told her we were going to the zoo (once, her favorite place).

She asked me how often she could smoke. 

She didn't even smile the night the whole family was together (sans one, who was in Bali, so no sympathy for him).

She told me how no one comes to see her and she hasn't seen my sister & brother in months (Not true) and then sat and stared into space for the whole night answering questions with one word answers and not willing to engage in anything, but smoking.

It feels like it has come down to this:

She only smiles when she can have a cigarette. 

I don't like this new person. This kid that I have to parent. She's mean and has tantrums if she doesn't get what she wants, when she wants it. She told me 4 times today to 'grow up' and 'stop being childish' when I wouldn't give her a cigarette every time she asked. (Back story: she gets 9 smokes a day. Last week when she stayed with us over night and I just gave her the cigarettes, thinking 'it makes her happy, why not'....she smoked 40. I was schooled today by her carer that It's really hard for her 'habit' if she smokes 40 one day, and 9 the next. Makes sense.)

I look at her now and grieve again for who she once was. To know that Jamie will never know her as she was, only who she is now. I know we have stories to share but you know, it's never the same as experiencing the person first hand.

I also am very aware that I come on here once a year for a few weeks and I call her almost weekly but my brother & sister are here all the time. My brother gently laughed at me today as I talked with him about it and said 'welcome to my life'.

I have some thought process that I am working through around how our old people 'go out'. The fact that my mum has this disease that has eaten away her personality and replaced her with a blank staring, non conversational, whiny individual who is just not pleasant to be around, just doesn't seem right. There's no celebration of her life, or her adventures, her lovers, her career, her kids, or her grand kids. The sum of life now has been reduced to cigarettes, mentos, lip balm & iced coffee. 

She looked at me blankly through her now pale pale blue eyes today and said;  'I never thought my life would end like this.' 

And all I could say is, 'I know. Me neither Mum, me neither.' 

Crushed. 

Breathe.....

I'm laying in bed here in Adelaide....actually, let me elaborate on that. I am laying in the car shaped trundle bed that my 7 year old nephew has kindly given up for us for the next three weeks. Every time I get out of bed by hopping over the wheel I have a little giggle to myself. 

Our time in Australia is going fast and almost every night we look at each other and lament on that fact. Time just goes too fast and I try to remember that when I'm being whiny about something...like the moment of rain we had the other day or the fact that my mum just asked me to stop and buy her some mentos, for the 300th time in the last 5 minutes, before she has to go back to 'her prison' (the old folks home she lives in...and hates). In those moments I try really hard to remind myself that I won't see her again till the end of the year or, realistically, perhaps this will be the last time I see her and so what if she forgot she asked me 299 other times. 

I have a lot of stuff swirling in my head this morning. My mum, my family, my country...and missing all three.  I have only just found out that for the last 10 years when I have been submitting tax returns in the US because I figured, that's where I live and mostly work these days, that I should have been submitting them here in Australia too. I haven't earned a lot of money in Australia in that time (and I've declared that money in the US) but you know, we have free healthcare and a retirement system that mostly works, and I don't want to lose access to that. Of course, that whole realization takes me on this mind fuck that generally runs along the line of 'you've spent your entire adult life making music, creating art, you have nothing financially to show for it and now your choices have fucked you up'. 

Trust me...I know the world has lost too many artists because of the fear of having 'nothing' and I understand that my life is extremely rich because of the choices I have made to do what's in my heart. 

But right now, I am having a moment of adult overwhelm. I am scared to lose my Medicare card because in some strange way it ties me to my Australian-ness. It's my safety net living in a country with overpriced healthcare. I'm scared that having to find an accountant to help me take care of 10 years of tiny tax returns is going to cost me more money than I have and leave me with more debt that I don't want or need. 

And, In this very moment laying in my car bed, I'm tired of being an under paid artist. 

If you don't know me I will tell you that I'm not irresponsible with money. I don't earn a lot of it and I need to make it stretch, so I am mindful of where I put it. 98% of my clothing comes from thrift stores,  I play the same guitar on stage that I have for 15 years, I could probably tell you right now where the cheapest petrol is in every city we've been in,  I try get home to Australia once a year for a working visit so I can see my family and try to work as much as I can to help pay for stuff while we are here and I'm mindful of how I spend. Anyone that knows me well will tell you that I'm very thrifty.

But, I also have an innate fear of 'getting into trouble' that I attribute to being born by two parents who were on the run from the police at the time..terrified they were going to get caught (for an actual wrongdoing with money). So that fear pops it's head up in times like this. 

My sweet wife would look at me right now and put her hand on my face and whisper 'it's going to be alright'. 

I know she's right. 

I know things get sorted out and that we have a beautiful amazing life filled with deep, wonderful love and friends and family and we have never not had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies, all the important things are covered. I won't die hanging onto stuff, nor would I want to. I want to leave this world with a smile of my face knowing that I loved and was loved well. I don't want to spend my time with my family, my very precious few weeks a year, worrying about stuff that will get taken care of.

And hell, how many other under paid artists, or well paid any things, get to look at this view...

Breathing now....

Pride.....in the name of

We had the wonderful opportunity to sit (or as it went, stand, for 5 hours) in a VIP section for Sydney Pride last night. Pride parades are always a mix of 'wow' and 'ohmygodididntneedtoseethat'. Last night was no different, we just had a better view of it. There was a lot of colour and celebrating and 'happyfuckingmardigras' and the whole city was just in a good mood. 

At 10.30pm (I know, you wouldn't guess this photo was taken at night but we were near the tv cameras so they had the street lit up almost like day time) (we were also standing near the float judges so everyone came over to us to show us, and more importantly the judges, what their float actually did). Okay, I used too many () in that sentence and now I've lost track of what I was saying....

Oh, the rain. 

Yes, it started to rain. You should have seen my hair. With 91% humidity all day and then rain, I was just a little frizz ball....but bugger it, I wasn't in the impending snowmagedon that is indianapolis so I was as happy as a pig in shit. We gayly ran through the rain....okay, maybe we gayly pranced with our kitty umbrella that our friend Nerrilee loaned us, but you know....we did it with pride. 

Pride parades always cause me to reflect on how we, the gay community, have come this far. I know the freedom I feel to hold the hand of the woman I love as I walk down the street has come because of the heartache, struggle and violence that people before me have had to endure. I am also painfully aware of how much further we have to go. There are a hundred stories I could tell you of lgbt families, friends and strangers being harassed, hounded and discriminated against for every 10 I could tell you of them being supported, embraced and welcomed. That statistic has to change. There are always going to be assholes in this world but there shouldn't be laws that allow one lot of people to purposely be assholes to another lot. It's that simple. 

But I digress. 

This night was about celebration and love and acceptance and pride. And leather chaps....lots of leather chaps with asses hanging out of them. 

Seriously, if my ass was that hairy, I would have to wax it. 

And now, I send you away with that visual....

xM

We say many things...

(Photo by Jamie Locke)

So, tomorrow night here in Sydney I am performing a song at an event called 'Women Say Something' at the Sydney Town Hall, which proudly flies the rainbow flag for Pride.  There will be 16 panelists, myself and another performer at the event doing their 'thing'. An awesome list of panelists being interviewed, 500 guests eating dinner. It's the night before Sydney Pride and you know, an awesome event. 

I'm nervous. 

Here's the weird thing. I'm not so much nervous about performing....it's one song and I finally picked the one song (which was super hard to do) and I'm solid on the song. I'm nervous about other things. I'm nervous about what I am going to wear. Feeling uncomfortable in my body after a winter of laziness and I feel nervous about not wearing 'cool enough' clothes and I'm nervous about who we are sitting with at dinner and if I will have interesting things to say. 

It's my introvert coming out. 

The part of me that feels unsure and quiet and not into 'small' talk. Also the part of me that struggles with my inner critic...the voice that tells me off for not exercising or eating one too many Tim Tams (mmm....Tim tams) and then reminds myself that I am perfect just the way I am. Before I break into 'Red Dust Earth' I'm going to talk about 'our stories' and the importance of them in the world and how every part of our story has made us who we are today. 

This is part of my story, and how I stand in the world. The introverted, feeling chunky, wonderful part of me that gently soothes my own heart and whispers reminders into my ear about not judging myself for how I look. And the part of me that just wants to say 'fuck that shit' and just enjoy it all. 

Onward we go. Sometimes a little more quietly than other times. 

xxM

Ocean Loving

We drove to the ocean yesterday ...the perfect thing to do when you've been on a plane for 19+ Hours and feel a general crappiness for that fact. We drove through the National Park and found our way to Garie Beach and we all just stood in the water and breathed a sigh of relief. I miss the ocean almost everyday. It brings such apace and a deep feeling of happiness that words often fail to describe. We are yet to actually swim but I have always considered the ocean to be my healier. The place I can go and feel everything be washed from me, inside and out. 

More soon.

Xmas

Ps...I failed to share the story of us buying a large bottle of Baileys in the duty free shop at the airport only to have TSA take it away from us because they considered it a suspicious liquid. They ran it through their special 'we're going to fuck with all the tourists' machine 5 times and the guy looked at me and apologized for having to do it and then confiscated it. Serious bull shit!!! 

Here we go.....

I've missed blogging. I've missed writing consistently. So, this is my new attempt. I just found my old blog filled with pages and pages of posts that span a whole year of my life. I miss that documenting. Truth is, it hasn't been easy to integrate it into my new website and everytime I did, I didn't like the look of it...so I gave up. This time, I'm just trying not to give a fuck and just write. The design will come later.

This is what is happening in my life today. Jamie and I am packed and heading back to Australia for two months. That's a lot of stuff. I get nervous with that much stuff. Infact, I have this weird anxiety thing around the whole process of getting to the airport & checking in. My flying life has NEVER been as easy as turning up to the airport with one easy bag. Never. My experIence with airports has always consisted of too many bags, fragile instruments and worrying about excess baggage and overages. Many times on my life I have had to open everything up and repack because I'm a pound over weight. Now, because I know myself better, I weigh everything before I leave home. 

But, I still worry. 

I want to worry less in my life. My sweet wife looks at me with love on her eyes and shakes her head at me. She's one of those lucky humans who just believes everything will be okay. That thrills me and annoys the shit out of me all at once. But that's a blog post for another day..

Here we go. Blogging and traveling...all at once. 

Xm

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