And just like clockwork...

In six days I will be 33, and you know what that means - yep, my birthday.

My Mum rang me last night to ask me what she should get me. Twenty years ago I would have been able to list within seconds about fifty items that I not only didn't need but probably, after a few minutes, wouldn't really want. Last night I couldn't come up with anything. Not a thing. Well, certainly I do not want anything in a tangible sense. And it's not that I even want "the answers" or "meaning". I think I have "meaning" and that makes me not want to "know the answers" but it's that same old bloody story isn't it? Another birthday, another mini panic attack.

I have liked my 30's - I guess that is to say, I've liked me in my 30's. (except for the whole anger thing I mentioned in my last post...but I'm working on it so lets not get all "pointy out the facts" on me.) Its just that I cannot help but look back on the year, as one does round birthday time, and think "what have I done?"

I am starting to wonder whether my recent-ish plan to start taking care of myself, exercise more, drink less, positive thinking thing hasn't been a waste of time. After all, I am still doing the "looking back" and though I have moments of clarity (that have replaced my once drunken epiphanies) and seem to have more energy, I still have to buy those special garments that smooth and tuck and flatten the wobbly bits and seriously, what is with adult acne?

So maybe I just have to take a big fat (garment assisted) breath and resign myself to the ebbs and flows. Actually that is one thing I do know for certain, that this has been a year of high highs and lower than usual lows. But those highs - late night dinners in Chinatown, festival bars, the moments before you exit a plane to see those special someones, faces of friends laughing till they're crying and all those terrifying moments as the house lights fades and the curtains go up - oh for Christs sake Amanda, stop whining and get back to work!!!

The Lowest Common Denominator

"You'll never believe what happened to me..."
"Guess what happened to me today?"
"So, I was just driving along when...."
"So tell me if I'm crazy ...."
"Why do these things always happen to me?"

On any particular day, at any particular time of that any particular day, you could probably put money on me starting a story using any one of the above lines of dialogue. These stories normally finish with :

• my car door being punched in
• a book being thrown in my face
• me "taking my business elsewhere"
• me narrowly avoiding some sort of physical harm
• rude gestures and swear words
• me kicking a car tyre
• me getting a man fired
• me calling the police to make sure that the man taking photos of my license plate cannot do anything with them.

I have spent many hours recounting tales of how hard done by I am. People in my office gather round to find out what mess I have myself in this time. Comments like "Only you" or "Typical Buckers" have been uttered more than several times. And it was only two days ago, after contemplating the road rage altercation I found myself in yet again, that I joined the dots. Did the math. Pieced the puzzle.

The one thing common in all my tales is me. Me. The lady who loses it more often than not is me. Me. I am to blame. I am the cause of all my grief. I am an angry woman. ME!

I think I have worked out what my problem though is. I actually hate confrontation. When I am dealing with my friends I am the first to concede. I apologise, accept responsibility, take the blame, feel the guilt. So much so that sometimes I do this even when someone else is entirely at fault. I would much rather do that though, then have an ongoing battle over something more than likely trivial. So when I am dealing with anyone who is not friend or family, who I have never met before, who I may never see again (except for possibly a court of law) I am mental. I am a force to be reckoned with. I am NOT to be messed with.

And it has to stop. So from today, I am just going to try being less angry with the general public. This may mean I get a little less agreeable with my mates, but I am hoping this won't be the case.

But just as a precaution, don't upset me, OK?

Rut.

Yep, I am headed into one. Maaaaaaan. How annoying.

Lifes Mysteries

I am daring to ask the big questions today :



If I didn't drink last night, why do I feel hungover?

Why have I got hayfever for the first time at 32?

What should I have for dinner?

Why do I speak before I think?

Why do I press send before I proof read?

Seriously, what should I have for dinner?

Why bother?

Spaghetti bolognaise it is.....