Not a writer

I tweeted to a Buzzfeed article the other day. It was twenty-something words that mean something different to a writer. I tweeted that I didn’t think of myself as a writer, but the listicle made me wish I was.

I don’t see myself as a writer, because I don’t write fiction.

I don’t have an Evernote full of ideas. I have an Evernote full of links to other people’s ideas, industry news, “how to write” tips. I’m a commercial writer. I’ve been paid to write other people’s ideas. I procrastinate over that so much, though, I hate it. I hate that I have to write something and I put it off, and put it off. And then I get into the flow of the writing, and then I love what I’ve written. And then I hate getting the feedback. Unless it’s good.

Bowral to Brunswick

So, do you know what’s been going on? Shame on you.

Just kidding.

Holy wow! It’s been almost a whole year since I posted here. I got over the guilt a while back. I’ve learned that when I write for a living, I stop writing for fun.

On with the N.E.W.S.

We redecorated our house. Got a new paint job inside, fixed our outside drainage issues so that our garage would stop flooding with heavy and prolonged rain, put two skylights in, installed a new kitchen, replaced blinds, carpets and old laminate wood floor with vinyl. Here are a couple of peeks.

With flooding:

The back yard2

Without flooding:

Untitled

Kitchen, before:

Purple kitchen

Kitchen, part-way through renovation:

Untitled

Kitchen, after:

New kitchen splashback.

I’ll do a walk-through and post a video up in a couple of weeks. The place looks uh-mazing. The weird/frustrating/not-that-uncommon-for-us thing is that I got all this done within a matter of weeks after us having paid a designer for drawings of a super-awesome extension and then deciding we would up-stumps and move to Melbourne.

WHAT?!

Yep.

May 2013 will be known as “the month we spent torturous weeks deciding what to do when we realised living in Bowral wasn’t serving our careers or our family life very well.” Also in the mix, was Matt wondering about his career moves and finding that he didn’t want to be a developer anymore. In June, he committed to a career change and a daily commute to Sydney for the past 5-or-so months.

We contemplated a move to San Francisco, a move back to Sydney, and a relocation to Melbourne. And by “contemplated”, I mean some yelling and much crying. I cried just about every one of those May days and even thought I was in the midst of a slightly early mid-life crisis.

Because this was a fork in the road.

And when you get to a fork in the road, you have to decide whether to pick up your baggage and keep going with the flow, or to examine it and choose what you need.

Classic Aprill behaviour is to go with the flow, and because I’m a laid-back sort of person, I’m generally just tagging along. I’m nearly 40; I don’t want to just tag along anymore. I want to be where I’m going, on purpose.

We’re keeping our Bowral place and renting it out—just in case we want to pull the ripcord—and we’ll be moving to Brunswick a few days after Christmas. We’ve found a great place to live and the boys are enrolled at school.

Change is hard, but I can already feel my brain and my creativity waking up again.

I’m feeling positive, though I know I’ll be lost without my sister-friend around the corner.  xx

Dear band: it’s not you, it’s me.

Going to gigs is different these days. The gigs themselves aren’t different. Though, many of those old-time venues have closed down. It’s me that’s different. Older.

Last night a group of us went to see The Presets. We were those haggard-looking people sitting at a table in the corner of the lobby with wine in small plastic glasses. We were those people reminiscing about the 90s music scene and bothered by the misspelling on the door to the ammenities [sic].

In the 90s my internal monologue was a bit like this:
This is awesome!
Sing along.
Buy a tshirt.
This is awesome!

Last night it went like this:

Note where the exit is in case I feel like I might faint. (I get claustrophobic in crowded places.)

Gee, the Enmore has a nice ceiling. I’ve never noticed that before.

Oh! cool graphics on the screens.

Hm. The audience smells nice. Not like in the bloody 90s.

Glad we’ve all only got one square foot to dance in. My un-co white-girl dancing is less obvious.

The keyboard/singer guy is quite attractive from back here.

That stack of amps looks like a spine.

I think the Ecstacy just kicked in for those people over there.

Gah! strobe lights! Just close your eyes and clap, for god’s sake.

Why can’t these bitchez stick to their square foot?

Oh! I think I recognise this song.

Beer cans get really flat on a general admission dance floor.

I like those wall sconces.

“I’m here with all of my people..” OH I KNOW THIS SONG!!

Guy in front tries to take photo with old-skool Nokia. His girlfriend and I look at each other and chortle.

It’s hot. Peg an open bottle of water over this direction!

Scan across audience fashions.

Good lord. My back is sore.

Leave at the end of the gig impressed with the Presets and remind myself to listen to them on Spotify tomorrow.