In Celebration of:

* Fresh bread rolls for lunch. Thank you Mr Bakery-Man (or Woman) for your baked goodness, all crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.

* Cabaret shows performed by friends which rock the audience and impress my parents.

* New Kids On The Block reforming perhaps. NO MORE GAMES BOYS!

* Men who have been pretentious since 1998. Ain't no changing those leopards spots.

* Nephews who turn 3.

* Co-workers lending you awesome CD's. (that you wouldn't burn because its wrong.)

* Scary nightmares that make you wake up and realise you are safe and warm and happy in bed.

Hip Hip Hooooooray!!!!!!

Let's Hear it for the Boy!!

Susie and I were witness to something very very very special the other night. We were lucky enough to be ticket holders for a Sufjan Stevens gig. Concert. Show. Celebration. Experience. Thing.

I have been a part of many a special musical moment - Jeff Buckley playing at the Coogee Bay Hotel to around 500 people, Rufus Wainwright playing acoustic to 100 people at the Seymour Centre, Michael Franti hugging an entire audience one by one at Byron Bay, MC Hammer at the Entertainment Centre - really really special moments in music....but this was something else.

Sufjan Stevens makes you smile. Laugh. Hug. Weep. Love. Mourn. The whole kit and caboodle ... and he can hula a hoop like no other man I've ever seen.

If I could find more words I would use them to just continue to rave and rave and rave! Alas, words fail me. All I can really say is that the world is a much more beautiful place with Sufjan in it.

So come on and hear the Illinoise!

Amanda went to the mosh pit (and didn't even get a lousy T-Shirt)

But boy, do I have some bruises.

Last night, I, along with my mate Heather, braved the teenagers and went to the Kings Of Leon concert. My god were they good. Just brilliant. They have all the makings of a really massive rock band, and, thankfully, none of the stadium arena fan fare. Just four guys, guitars and drums and a heaving room of happy punters.
We found ourselves, with relative ease, pretty close to the front and in the middle. There was almost a view to the stage - apart from the girl in front of me who insisted on filming the entire show on her phone which meant that really, she missed the entire concert.
There was a lovely older guy (had to have been 30 at least) who allowed Heather and I to slip in the wee space in front of him, of course he then thought this allowed him to feel us up under the guise of "can you see? Are you getting hit? Here let me just touch your boob" ... you know that kind of thing. Maybe not so lovely?

All in all, I have to say, the live, moshy experience is an unparalleled mix of joy and pain. Its fun and crazy and hot and stuffy, smelly and sweaty and electric and adrenalised. There will come a day that I will be punched I am sure ("Yeah well the sign says no smoking, so please extinguish it or I will be forced to report you to those guards over there young man") or maybe throw one myself ("what part of stop whipping my face with your ponytail do you not get lady?") but in the meantime, while I still have at least a little kick left, I will still try and "get to the front" and rock out.

I have one complaint though, I understand they have two types of T-Shirts at merchandise counters that usually go like this "MENS: S M L XL XXL" and "GIRLS: 8 10 12" .... Well I am a woman. WOMAN. I am not a girl and I am certainly not a man. But sometimes, just sometimes, I want to buy a T-Shirt. SO WHY WON'T ANYONE LET ME??????

Yeah, rock n roll!

Thank God I'm Here.

I was nearly killed in the early hours of this morning.

In a weird artwork-over-bed accident, my sleep was well and truly interrupted and I narrowly escaped serious harm. I narrowly escaped potential cuts and bruises. Somewhere between a wee fright and death. That is what I narrowly escaped.

You can imagine then, the crazy things that I have been thinking about. What if I had not have had a nightmare about spiders with huge extendable legs and so had not woken just in time to sit up and catch the large wooden frame that fell off the wall? I think I will buy some new pyjama's and clean my bedroom just in case. In an emergency, no one has time to clean. Or put on something flattering.

And now that I have looked death (well, possible cuts and bruises) in the face, I feel the need to make every moment count. Of course spending my time at work and posting blogs is not necessarily reflective of the "making it count" mentality but you know, maybe I will buy that airfare and ticket to Ireland for the Electric Picnic? And maybe, just maybe, my epiphany will be realised by many. Or at least two.

Its a slow release spontaneity, but its there.

Epiphany.

I've had one. And it felt good.