A minute with Mel and Patience from The Minutes. You're welcome.

 (Mel Buttle sent me this picture. A listener made it for her and Patience Hodgson because they really really love KFC Wicked Wings.)

Mel Buttle and Patience Hodgson carry on the type of conversation that makes you want to be their friend. You know the type when you’re sitting next to a pair of besties, and they’re having a great time chatting away, and you just want to join in? But you can’t because they may think you’re a creepy intruder trying to latch on to some new friends. That. Only in this case, you can’t join in with their conversation because they talk on a podcast. 

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Comedian and writer, Mel Buttle and singer Patience Hodgson, or PatiencefromtheGrates, as Mel calls her, do a fortnightly podcast called The Minutes, and have recently created a little sister podcast called You’re Welcome. 

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One of the thrill seeking activities I do late at night is curl up in bed listening to podcasts. Outrageous I know. I have a whole range of favourites – from cooking (KCRW Good Food, Poh’s Kitchen) to the more serious and informative (ABC’s Background Briefing and Life Matters) to audio documentaries (This American Life) to conversations (Conversations with Richard Fidler) and music (NPR’s All Songs Considered). It’s another way of reading books, I guess, and a good way of learning about new things and people and having some company in the house when I am all alone. I discovered The Minutes through an iTunes recommendation late last year. And I’ve been hooked, listening to back to back episodes when I couldn’t sleep through the brief heatwave we had in January. The podcasts actually didn't do much to make me sleep because they were too addictive!


They invite guests to the podcasts - family, band members or other musicians. Here's Mel and Patience with singer Lanie Lane.

They have a knack of making those ‘you had to be there’ moments come alive. I have laughed out loud (or perhaps LOLd, in this online media context) at their stories of touring and families and radio plays. It’s really funny and creative stuff.

Mel and Patience interact with their listeners on Twitter and Tumblr. I talk to them on Twitter and they are funny! Their little sister podcast You’re Welcome has been developed specifically to answer questions sent to them on Twitter. I listened to their most recent You're Welcome and laughed so hard at their stories of who they'd turn gay for that I had to have a second listen.

Mel has been kind enough to answer a few questions for me. Enjoy. And don’t forget to download The Minutes and You’re Welcome. 

How long have you been doing The Minutes?

Mel : The first episode went up on August 25 2011, but we did a sneaky practice episode before then which was just us mucking around, it's never been put up for public listening.

How did you meet?

Mel: The internet! But the first time we met IRL was at ABC Brisbane Radio I 'interviewed' Patience one day when I was filling in for Richard Fidler, instant besties. Patience is a dream to have on air when you're hosting radio, she also impressed me with her outfit and she brought me a slice of cake. I think it was an avocado mung bean chocolate sweet potato cake. I was blown away by her and her cake. I'd also been a long time Grates fan and I knew she was about to release 'Secret Rituals' so I got her in for an interview, mainly just so I could meet her. Yes I am cunning like a rat.

Why did you decide to do a podcast?

Mel: It was Patience's idea, she'd had a podcast before and we've both dabbled in radio, also she's a wag and I'm a card, so it seemed like a fun idea.

What's the best thing about doing a podcast together?

Mel: Eating cake afterwards, talking for hours on end and pretending we're Oprah and Gayle.

If you two went on holidays together where would you go?

Mel: Somewhere we can be sunsmart and eat chicken wings, maybe The Hamptons? I've heard people on TV go there on holidays, it sounds nice. Would I have to swim though? I'm not swimming.

Will you consider entering my Kitchen Rules in 2013, and if so, what would you cook?

Mel: Well it would be unfair of us to enter, as we'd obviously win and no one else would have a chance, but if I had to enter and break hearts, I'd make slow cooked pork belly, with apple slaw and a cherry cola float. See people forget about drinks, I think serving a cool non alcoholic drink with a dish can be a hoot.

Who would be in your supergroup/festival and why?

Mel: I'd like to be in a Sister Act tribute band with Oprah, Patience and Nigella Lawson. I think we'd nail it.

Tell me about a time when...

Mel: When I pashed an ex cast member of Heartbreak High? Really you want to hear that story? Actually no I'll tell it on The Minutes, you'll have to listen.

Where can we hear/see more of your stuff?


Mel: www.melbuttle.com.au is where I put my blogs and update my gigs. The podcast has its own tumblr too it's like the afterparty for the podcast. You can listen to The Minutes here too! And www.thegrates.com is where you can find out about Patience's band.

Performance anxiety. Radio interview. Cake with CurlyPops. Clothes.

I've got a case of performance anxiety at the moment. Not in the traditional sense of performance anxiety in the bedroom, but performance anxiety of the written kind. As I mentioned yesterday I have three writing projects to do, but I am making little progress on them because I am worried they won't be good enough. Silly thoughts, I know. And this fear of quality is only measured by my standards, so far. I'll get over myself soon.

Last weekend I spoke on community radio about my Aim for the Stars grant. You can listen to it here - I am at around the 37 minute mark. The show is The Grandstanders and Chris and Jane were so very lovely to talk to.

Today I had morning tea with Cam from CurlyPops. I baked a cake - banana, coconut and blueberry. I shelled a coconut for the cake - I used a cleaver and hammer on the floor. I feared for my toes. We had a lovely chat and the cake was delicious!

Today is the start of Donate Life Week and Cam is on the organ donation registry, due to receive a new set of lungs. Please pop over to her blog and read about Donate Life Week and consider donating your organs to help people like her and others in need. Cam and I became friends as we both write for DiVine and share the love of blogging and cake. And I am so glad I did - it was a wonderful morning.

Other than seeing Cam and booking my London flight, I've kept a low profile this weekend. I am a bit sore and need to rest. But while I was in the shopping centre yesterday I took the time to wander through Myer and spent my birthday gift vouchers on these lovely clothes - big bargains! I had my eye on them for a while but couldn't justify full price, so was happy to see them on sale. Perfect for taking overseas!

Have a great week everyone :)

London's calling!

I find myself procrastinating right now. All day actually. I have baked, done loads of washing and dishes, changed my bedding and cooked two meals from scratch. Hell, I've even shelled a coconut with a hammer and cleaver. It's not like I have been unproductive. But I have one column and two submissions to write. But instead I find myself enjoying the music from the 1960s on Heartbeat, a bit tipsy from one bottle of cider, and flicking through my London Encounter book.

Because, today I booked a flight to London!!

It's all happened very quickly. Two weeks ago I met with Changing Faces and the Centre for Appearance Research - both great meetings and I left feeling very invigorated. They both wanted me to spend time with them to see what they do. Last week I had a chat to one of my biggest mentors in my day job. She wanted to know about my Aim for the Stars grant and how I will use it and how she can help me. I told her about the meetings I'd had a few days before, and my goal to branch out speaking and possibly starting a Changing Faces in Australia,

She suggested I take the opportunity to use some of my grant money to extend my overseas trip and go to London for a conference and work experience at both companies. My parents were also keen for me to go to the United Kingdom. It's my heritage, and I have a British passport and I will be able to learn and travel.

So I confirmed work experience at Changing Faces and the Centre for Appearance Research, booked extra leave (seven weeks off work!!), checked out my working eligibility with the British consulate, asked permission from the Aim for the Stars Foundation (I needed to confirm whether this was appropriate use of the grant) and banked my grant cheque.

And today I booked my flight! (I had to change my flight from Australia to LA which took some time and planning, but much cheaper than I worried about). I have never been this spontaneous! I leave on 30 June, spend three weeks in London and fly to Los Angeles on 22 July. I spend two days there where I'll meet my Mum, and then fly to New York for 17 days, including going to the BlogHer conference! I cannot wait.

Of course I am freaking out too. Worried about luggage allowances, how much vaseline I will take, whether I'll get too tired or sore, the weather, whether I'll have enough money. But for the most part of it, I am so excited!

When I am in the UK I will be basing myself in London (for some of the time I'll be staying with a friend who I had stay when I first moved to Melbourne) and meeting up with my family and friends including some within the ichthyosis community.

I feel so incredibly lucky for these opportunities. And so very proud of making this happen. I've developed confidence to approach people and built up a number of valuable contacts who have already provided so much guidance and encouragement.

Yay! London's calling :)

Food fads by choice

This has been on my mind for some time now. Fad diets and elimination of food by choice. I read an article about it on Sunday and nodded along to the words, and also received some judgment about my own food this week. I'm going to come right out and say it.

If you're on a sugar/dairy/gluten free diet by choice, don't try to guilt me for my generally good choices. FFS. Sick of your judgment & grumpiness. Go eat something delicious and cheer up.

Most of the food I eat I cook from scratch. I can say that I know most ingredients I put into my cooking. That is, I try to only use whole foods. It's rare that I cook with pre-made sauces or even pasta now. I use fresh (and sometimes frozen) vegetables, fresh fruit, (mostly) organic free range meat, fish, olive oil, plain yoghurt, rice, duck eggs, organic milk (I have been using Elgaar milk from Tasmania lately), beans, lentils and barley, oats, flour, herbs and spices, and nuts. I occasionally buy bread, and it's only these past few weeks I've had icecream in the freezer. I don't drink coffee and only drink herbal tea, and don't add sugar to my foods or drinks. I find it hard to find a late night snack in my fridge or pantry because I don't keep biscuits or chips, and the only chocolate I have is Green and Black's dark orange. Sometimes I drink coke and other soft drinks but I also drink about three litres of water a day. Cheese is my weakness.

I eat whole foods because they make me feel good and happy. Over-processed foods make my tummy sore. I know I am getting the goodness I need from whole foods without added nasties. And I also never feel guilty when I dine out or eat a cake at work once a fortnight for afternoon tea.

Though I don't exercise as much as I should, my BMI is between low and average, I have a fast metabolism and feel pretty healthy.

In the past week these are some of the things that I've cooked and eaten. 

Chicken with a salad of mango, tomato, corn off the cobb, spinach, capsicum and lime juice, with a side of quinoa. Roast lamb chops with broccoli, carrots, pumpkin, potatoes and beetroot. Half an apple scroll, strawberries and pineapple, and muesli on Yalla yoghurt. Vegetable fritters made from squash, pumpkin, spinach and corn off the cobb topped with mayonnaise. Yum! And I can name almost every ingredient except for the spices on the chicken, the ingredients within the mayonnaise and the apple scroll.

Food confessional over.

So when people who are on fad diets by CHOICE, I don't appreciate them tsk-tsking my own food choices. The sugars in my fruit, or my full fat dairy or the additives in my mayonnaise are none of your business. My belief is that I eat such a balanced diet that the occasional food with hidden sugar or salt or transfats (whatever they are?) doesn't matter. It's like when people are on these food elimination diets by choice, their attitude becomes holier than thou, and they are obsessed with what they and others eat.

I am finding the rise in these food choice/elimination fads - no gluten, no sugar, no dairy - are making people a bit grumpy, very judgmental, quite boring, and often difficult at meal times. I am wondering if these food elimination diets are a new form of eating disorder?

Continuing on from Mia Freedman's piece - I also wonder if food elimination is done to be trendy? While I am about to set foot into controversial territory, I wonder whether all food allergies exist. I was talking with my dermatologists and allergy specialists about food allergies - they find it strange that I don't suffer from any food allergies, yet am very susceptible to them. They also said that they believe many people don't actually have a true food allergy. 

I was reading a blog post a while back, by a nutritionist (I am sorry I don't have it to link to now though) that outlined the panic surrounding eating full fat dairy. The post detailed the nutrients in dairy, and then made the point that people shouldn't be panicking about eating fresh whole foods, but processed foods, like the ones that come in packets and tubes. Like avocado in a tube or cheese in a can. 

Here's my food philosophy:

Cook meals with ingredients that you can see. As in - fresh, whole foods. 

Cook simple meals. It doesn't take long to chop some vegies, steam some fish and put together a delicious fish taco.

Whole foods doesn't mean boring.

Eat for health. 

Eat for happiness. 

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I am going to cook dinner now. I am having salmon and leftover mango salad. What's the sugar content in that?

PS - a friend asked me if I eat McDonalds, given that most of my diet is pretty good. Yes. Yes I eat McDonalds and am quite partial to a Quarter Pounder. 

Crash Boom Bang! How Roxette's shaped my love. Did I mention I'm meeting them?!

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Next week I have the honour of seeing Roxette in concert and meeting them too! I was lucky enough to win tickets on Mix FM - so glad I made the switch to listen to Chrissie and Jane - not only a great show but awesome prizes! I've loved Roxette since I was a kid, so it's really nice to get the opportunity to see them live. I had Look Sharp on cassette and sang along to every word.

I was thinking how Roxette has really shaped two of the biggest relationships in my life to date. And I am a bit worried about how the music will play with my emotions.

Halfway through my first year at uni, I was sitting in the computer lab, doing an assignment between classes - probably the god-awful statistics that I only just scraped through - when a girl next to me Would. Not. Shut. Up. She talked loud and fast. A bit like me really. She rabbited on about cricketer Steve Waugh and I turned to her to tell her I had Steve Waugh's diary because I was once in love with Shane Warne. "Oh my god" she squealed, and from that moment on, we couldn't stop talking. As loudly and as quickly as each other. We. Would. Not. Shut. Up. I am sure the others in the computer lab were as annoyed at our level of noise as I initially was about hers.

So after we discussed Steve Waugh's diary, she asked me if I'd like to go back to her house. I said yes, and she drove me back. I met her housemates. We ate lunch. And then we decided to play some music. She put on Roxette's Don't Bore Us Get to the Chorus. And I squealed. We were both Roxette fans. I think we sang along and danced around a bit. And I remember Roxette as the band that was playing when I met one of my best friends Amber. We've been friends for 12 years now - giggling and drinking and talking loudly through the years. We've supported each other during some tough times. We chat to each other at work most days now, and we try to catch up as much as we can. I love being able to pick up where we left off.

Here we are last year, having lunch and drinks on the Queen's Birthday weekend.

The other relationship (or whatever it was) Roxette has shaped was the one with him. We only had a few bands in common, and thank goodness we did or I'd be listening to Megadeth for the duration of my stay. I knew some of their greatest hits, but he introduced me to some of their lesser known songs, which he preferred. Roxette playing when I physically fell for him, sitting in his room, drunk on moscato, the prospect of newness and the thrill of taking such a risk. He played this song, Crash Boom Bang, saying it's one of his favourites. I liked the ballad. I didn't take much notice of the lyrics until I lay in his arms, wondering if I could stop myself falling deeper. I realised this song was about this situation that was about to unfold and inevitably fall apart.

"My Papa told me to stay out of trouble
"When you've found your man, make sure he's for real!".

I've learned that nothing really lasts forever
I sleep with the scars I wear that won't heal
They won't heal.

Cos every time I seem to fall in love
Crash! Boom! Bang!
I find the heart but then I hit the wall
Crash! Boom! Bang!
That's the call, that's the game and the pain stays the same.

I'm walking down this empty road to nowhere
I pass by the houses and blocks I once knew.

My Mama told me not to mess with sorrow
But I always did, and Lord, I still do
I'm still breaking the rules
I kick it up
I kick it down.

Cos every time I seem to fall in love
Crash! Boom! Bang!
I find the heart but then I hit the wall
Crash! Boom! Bang!
That's my real middle-name
It has always been the same
That's the call, that's the game and the pain stays the same.

I still feel the heat
Slowly fallin' from the sky
And the taste of the kissing
Shattered by rain
Comin' tumblin' from behind
And the wild holy war.

I kick it up
I kick it down

And every time I seem to fall in love
Crash! Boom! Bang!
I find the roses dying on the floor
Crash! Boom! Bang!
That's the tall, that's the game and the pain stays the same
That's my real middle-name
It has always been the same.

Oh Yea Oh Yea Oh Yea Uh-huh
Been the same, been the same
It has always been the same."

The song played on our last night together. It was a nice night, but bittersweet because I knew I probably wouldn't spend any more time with him after he saw me off at the airport. And as I held him, I drummed my fingers on his skin to the beat of the song, thinking " Cos every time I seem to fall in love, Crash! Boom! Bang! I find the heart but then I hit the wall...". I was sad at the pattern, and the inevitable.

One of our last text conversations before he didn't need me anymore was about Roxette and what fans we both are. I didn't tell him the real reason the music means a lot to me. 

As I wrote a few weeks ago, I'm doing ok. I think that if they play this song at the concert, it may be difficult. It will be like my last memento. I'll remember and I'll tear up and I'll smile that it happened. And then I might just let go.

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I am hoping to score a little interview for the blog, or at least a photo. Stay tuned!

The songs they'd play when I've gone

When I tell people we had The Chicken Dance at my grandmother's funeral they laugh awkwardly and think it's a bit disrespectful. But it fit my Nanny to a tee. She liked that silly kitsch stuff - the stuff I cringed at - making us wear feather boas and hats for photos, and doing the chicken dance.

It was her escape from the world I guess. She led a tough life, and when I think about it now, I should have tried to understand her more. Mental illness is difficult to understand when you don't know how to relate.

I remember when Nanny was well, she'd make comments of how depressing it was to get old and trips to funerals become your social life. I saw it at her funeral - a busload of elderly people came to farewell Nanny. I wondered what it'd be like to know a reality is that that your neighbours would be seeing you off next.

We played a song from My Fair Lady too. I Could Have Danced All Night. I imagined Nanny drawing ballgowns that she could only dream of wearing, thinking of the way the fabric would swish with every piece of pastel light and shade she drew.

The Chicken Dance was played as we walked out of the chapel. When we met with the funeral home staff, they asked us what songs define Nanny, and both Mum and I agreed on The Chicken Dance. We ran it past Dad and my Aunty, and bought the CD from the bargain bin at the record store that's now shut down. The Macarena was the song after The Chicken Dance. I joked to mum that what if the Macarena played accidentally I'd break into moves just like I did on the dancefloor at Eddies tavern after uni. Anyway, The Macarena did not play - but what amusement it'd bring if it did play.

The Chicken Dance lightened the mood. We were leading the way out of the chapel but I looked behind and saw eyes lit up and smiles on faces.We even did a few of the actions. It was a nice moment.

I want music to feature at my funeral. It's a huge part of my life so why shouldn't it carry on after I've gone? I want a feast too. None of this assorted creams biscuit trays. I want cheese and cakes and fruit and canapes. I want people to dress up for the occasion too. I want people to remember me by what I loved.

When I die, I would like something from Darren Hayes playing. Maybe he could even sing in person! Darren If you're reading this...

One song I always think of playing St my funeral is Matchbox Twenty's Could I Be You? I love the line of laughing out loud at the thought of being alive, and I think that sums up my life.

"Well now, you're laughing out loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering
Could I just be you tonight"

For dramatic effect, Sia's I Go To Sleep is a nice song. 

And finally, I'd have Last Day On Earth by Kate Miller-Heidke - it is such a beautifully sad song. I tweeted her a few weeks ago telling her this.

I think it's so important that funerals are celebrations of life, and they truly reflect the person's interests when they're alive.

This post is for Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade meme. What songs would you like played at your funeral?

What I've cooked and eaten this week

I've got a few things to do tonight - so while I wind down from day-job mode and switch to writer mode, I wanted to do a bit of blogging. And what better way to wind down than to reflect on the food I've cooked and eaten this week. 

Prawn and scallop tacos. Really easy to cook. Prawns, scallops, spinach, red cabbage, tomato, coriander, mango on a wholemeal tortilla, with lime, mayo and chilli.

A gold flecked macaron. I felt like royalty. This was from a cafe in Melbourne Central.

This was my $10 lunch at the market - salmon roll, two spinach and ricotta boreks and a fig stuffed with marscapone.  Plus some change given to the awesome busker.

My good friend Kristy was down from Sydney and I invited her to dinner at my place. She brought the wine...

We snacked on dips from the Vic Market - spinach, salmon and eggplant, plus some proscuitto rolls.

 And I cooked pea and feta puree, paprika corn, a salad of greens, tomato, mango and chilli, and baked trout.

Dessert was Maggie Beer burnt fig and caramel icecream with blueberries.

 

Happy Friday everyone, hope you eat good food this weekend :) I am hosting a dinner party tomorrow night so I'll be sure to blog about that.

Bill Cunningham New York

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Bill Cunningham New York is a delightful documentary that made me excited for New York and also inspired by a man devoting his life to doing what he loves. I admire him so much.

Bill Is a photojournalist for the New York Times. He rides around on his bicycle and stops to take photos of the fashion on the streets. He is also an octogenarian.

The documentary featured a number of high profile journalism, fashion and art identities commenting on Bill's life - Anna Wintour, Iris Apfel, Annette De la Renta, Editta Sherman, Tom Wolfe and Brooke Astor. I recall reading an article about Iris Apfel late last year, and Bill Cunningham New York made me want to learn more about her. She truly has a zest for life, and an amazing fashion sense.

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The founder of street style in the 1950s, Bill loves seeing what real women wear. He loves clothing that can translate from catwalk to sidewalk. And it's clear when he loves an outfirt worn on the catwalk - he stops to photograph it.

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Although invited to hightown parties bustling with celebrities and socialites he said he most prefers the clothes women on the street wear. Because, unlike celebrities, real women choose their own clothes and style, and this is what makes them interesting. He said people ask him why he hadn't photographed a certain celeb at an event - and his reason is that their style didn't grab his attention.

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Despite mixing with the social scene, Bill doesn't subscribe to living extravagantly. For years he lived in a shoebox of a unit in New York artists' residence Carnegie Hall - until relocated in 2010 due to development. He didn't have many clothes - his 'uniform' is dust jackets garbage men wore - they withstand the damage of a heavy camera around his neck. He also uses traditional 35 mm film in his non digital SLR camera. Hi hearing is failing, but he has an incredible eye for detail, assisting the photo editors with the layout of his columns, below.

He is a simple man - a journalist of scrupulous integrity. He doesn't accept payment for his work, and he also won't accept free meals or drinks when he is at events, citing he's there to work. A friend of his commented she believes he may have been born into wealth because of the simple frugal way he lives, and still sustaining a happy and long life. It's quite extreme really. He's friends with some of the fashion industry's biggest icons, but also relates to the grass roots of the industry - taking part in protests to save New York's garment district.

Aside from his dedication to doing what he loves, for the love of it only - was his acceptance and open mindedness towards New York's diverse community, despite his generation. He's friends with people of all ages, races and sexual orientation.

Another thing I noticed were his older female friends who were ageing proudly - looking glamourous - dripping with jewels and wearing luxurious clothing, and maintaining youthful spirit (Iris Apfel classes herself as 'the world's oldest teenager') but their faces were marked with age spots and wrinkles. It was beautiful to see.

Watching this documentary gave me a sense of excitement about what's to come when I go to New York. I thought about what clothes I will pack (the big issues) and the sights I'd like to visit. I'd LOVE to meet Bill! The documentary gave me the confidence to just be myself (in New York and elsewhere) - for individuality is interesting. Former Nepalese UN leader Shail Upadhya - providing commentary in the documentary, is certainly very happy wearing such individual clothes!

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I came out of the documentary feeling so uplifted, and incredibly excited for my trip ahead. 


View Bill Cunningham's New York Times column here.

Read more about the film here.

I think the season of Bill Cunningham New York is now finished in Australia but you can buy a region one DVD at certain book stores and online. I highly recommend it.

"I'm thinking about you wearing a bikini" and more online dating disasters

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If only online dating was as cute as sauce characters on cheese toast. 

A few months ago, I wrote a post called 'Does your disability stop you from sucking cock? and other online dating disasters'. A charming post, detailing the sweet men that I've come across on the online dating site Oasis. Would they kiss their mother with a mouth like that?

I went on a hideous date with a man who told me he uses prostitutes in October. And for a few months I stopped using the site altogether. It was a good feeling. No longer wading through the generic (insincere) profiles, and knowing the impolite and soul destroying people would not enter my home - I'd only find them on the street. Recently though, for some reason I logged on again, and gave it a go. Maybe the men of Oasis had matured and they were reformed and polite, just waiting to sweep me off my feet? Wishful thinking.

(A few weeks ago I did have a date of sorts - with a nice, good looking, intelligent and funny man, who although a little bit racist and not afraid to voice his dislike for The Living End, almost cried when I explained the pain my ichthyosis causes me. After he'd calmed his nerves, our conversation flowed well - he was really interesting and genuine. He told me up front he was not after a relationship - despite his profile description - and was just looking to make friends. I don't know if we will be friends, but he did invite me to text him anytime.

I have also come across some pretty sad, lonely and troubled men on the site - who I feel for - but if their highlight of their day is going for a walk to the shops, and their highlight of the subsequent day is that too, they're not for me.)

This time around I had better luck attracting men. They seemed to want to get to know me. But like many of the men I've attracted away from the site, they came with their issues. It seems men on Oasis (and perhaps other dating sites) think it's acceptable to introduce the idea of sex up front. No small talk, just thinking and speaking (typing) with their dicks. And it's not even like I lead them to that conversation.

It seems, unlike a few years ago with online dating, there is no time for getting to know people before meeting them or talking about sex. They can barely get past hello without their pants bulging, champing at the bit to tell girls how big they are. And I'm not talking about teenage boys. The men I've spoken to online have been 28 and over. Some older than me - older than 30.

It's not like I don't want sex, but I want to get so know someone and feel safe and not pressured to talk about it or have it. I don't want a man who talks about sex to every woman he meets online. And I have been drawn to bad boys, but these types online aren't like the bad boys I've known and loved. The bad boys I've been drawn to have often had a heart of gold under their tough exterior.

I started chatting to a guy on Oasis who had a disability. He pounced on me, spilling out his whole life story (which I'd already read in his profile), gave me his phone number and said 'where to from here?' in the first two minutes of chatting. I said I'd like to get to know him better, and then he told me that's all there was to know about him. I said 'surely there's more', and proceeded to ask him about the music he likes. 'Pink Floyd, U2, Cold Chisel, I have a big sex drive'.

Men on Oasis. Dropping "I have a big sex drive" into the sentence where you're telling me the music you love is dumb. I know they're not a band. I let that one slide, chatted to him for a few more minutes, and told him I was going to bed. Bear in mind we had only been chatting for about five minutes. 'The things I'd like to do to you in bed', he said. It turns out his disability was not respectfully developing a rapport with me. And so I told him things won't work out because he was too impolite. Delete.

There was a guy who wanted to meet me - not have dinner with me, just meet me in a park, decide if he wants to kiss me or not, and if he did, he'd follow me back to my place to sit on my couch and kiss. I said no, I'd prefer to meet him in a public place and get to know him better first. I mentioned something about safety. His response: "Oh for fucks sake, I'm not a rapist", and then asked me if I had previously been raped. Delete.

The next one I thought had quite good conversation skills, we both appreciated music and his ex girlfriend had some sort of disability. We talked on and off for about a week. He asked me if we could meet up, he could come to my place. I suggested we meet at a pub in the city, maybe see a band. He didn't know any, he said, only heavy metal venues. I then suggested lunch. He said he couldn't afford lunch. But he came right out and said "I don't want a one night stand. I just want to hang out with you at your place and have sex every weekend". He told me I have a nice figure and he is 'thinking of me' wearing a bikini. Charmer. He gave me his number, hoping I'd call. I didn't.

Something else interesting happened - a man was regularly viewing my profile (Oasis tells you when people are checking you out). I sent him a contact request early on, and he declined, yet continued to view my profile. There was no way of getting in contact with him other than a further contact request - but I wanted to ask him why he was so intent on looking at what I had to offer (or not). I got visions of him looking at my profile and showing it to his mates, ridiculing me. So I blocked him. 

There was the man with English as his second language. He was hoping to find his wife on Oasis. "I am a one women [sic] man. Will you be my women?", he asked. Ummm. "I want one women whose pants I go in every night". I'd love a man like that too, but perhaps someone less brazen. And someone who knows the difference between single and plural - woman vs women.

Another guy contacted me and we had quite a good chat. He actually worked at my work, in another state, before moving to Melbourne. He told me he was really keen on a relationship, and then asked me if I wanted a picture of his abs, and requested a "naughty little something" from me. All in the first 10 minutes. No thanks. I don't want to feature in his wank bank, no matter how flattering that may be for some. He asked me if we could build a bit of sexual tension. Again, I'd rather get to know him first. He told me I am hot, and proceeded to explain what sort of positions he'd like to do me. Delete.

And these are just some of the men that I managed to screen shot conversations of before deleting. 

While these conversations make for funny (and cringeworthy) blog material, there is a more serious issue at heart. Now, perhaps I am keeping my legs and mind closed too tightly when approaching this online dating malarky. Maybe I need to be more open minded and just go with the flow. But I wouldn't go with the flow if a man in a bar came up to me to tell me he has been thinking about me in my bikini and requested a nude picture.

The privacy policy on Oasis does not extend to harassment from other members, but the help section does state you can report members who are being offensive. A few years ago when I wrote a story about online dating and deception for a university assignment I had a lot of trouble contacting online dating sites about the darker side of online dating - I contacted about five sites and no response from any of them. I wonder just how many people are reported and reprimanded due to their offensive behaviour on these sites?

I also wonder whether any of these men using dating sites would talk to women ‘in real life’ like they do online, or are they being brave behind a computer screen? And if these things were said/done in real life would it be sexual assault? The behaviour of some of these men is appalling.

Is it a behavioural problem that takes them online? Are they socially impaired to the point of having difficulty meeting women in person, and so they use dating sites - bringing their social impairment with them? (Having said that, one may suggest that I too may be socially impaired, because of my use of dating sites. I assure you that I am quite capable of polite conversations and adhering to social norms, on and offline.)

And perhaps this sort of behaviour comes from them reading men’s magazines. I was reading an article on Mamamia about how the content of men's magazines is very similar to some of the things convicted rapists have said about women. Objectifying women, believing women are 'asking for it', and criticising women for being 'dick teasers'. I got this vibe from talking to some of the men on Oasis. I get the impression that if women don't play along with men on dating sites (and vice versa in some cases), men consider the women to be at best, wasting their time, and at worse, dick teasers who are asking for it, and so they continue their lewd advances.

The semi anonymous and fully unaccountable nature of online dating means people can say what they want, with little consequence. They can say things that leave others feeling uncomfortable, unsafe and repulsed in their own environments. This sort of fear would no doubt translate to encounters in public places, completely away from online dating.

So where to now for me? I am going to give online dating a rest. Honestly, my heart still feels fragile. And I am quite busy. I'd prefer to meet someone in person so I can form a better opinion of them. And hopefully that may prove that not all men are rude and immature. I'd like to believe my Prince Charming is out there, or at least a polite and friendly guy who doesn't intimidate me by speaking through his penis.

I saw this tweet by P!nk. Sums it up perfectly. "Remember when the world had manners? Me neither... Can we bring some back? Please:) and thank you:)"

Frugal February. Radio. Tanning. Photos.

Trips the the chemist are a sure way to empty my wallet. It's not unusual for me to spend $50 there, around three times a month. Today I needed to stock up on bath (shower) wash and Zyrtec (antihisthamine). I went to my regular chemist - the girls there are so very helpful, give me advice when I don't want to go to hospital, and always make me laugh. I was thinking about how good it is to have a little community in the big city - the people who run my grocer, deli, cafes and chemist are all so lovely and friendly. Anyway, the pharmacist's assistant told me I was in luck as Zyrtec was on special! I usually take one a day, to stop the daily itching and hayfever in the spring months. I buy whatever's cheapest, though if I get stuck without it, I pay top dollar. Today the chemist had a pack of 30 on sale for $9! So I bought two packs, enough to last me two months. Hurrah!

I am unofficially participating in Frugal February - not because I am a joiner, but because I need to save for America and pay off this very expensive washing machine. I predict my frugality will apply to all months of the year - to July at least...

This afternoon I went to my local Coles and deli to pick up some staples. At the checkout I had a conversation with the sales assistant about how surprised I was that quite a substantial amount of groceries came in under $40. She laughed, and sang the 'Down Down' jingle to me. I corrected her, saying there is now the new jingle, and told her how I was tweeting Coles' social media department about how I think there needed to be a transition period between jingles because the new one wasn't easily identifiable as Coles - it's to the tune of 'There's no business like show business'. I have been extremely impressed with Coles' social media department - they are engaging and quite funny.

 I picked up a pre-cooked chicken at Coles. I try my best to buy local free range and organic meat at markets, or source it from my parents, but sometimes on a hot Saturday night, a pre-cooked chicken makes things easier. In the spirit of Frugal February, I used the ingredients in my fridge/pantry to make some Mexican inspired wraps with the chicken. Cabbage, carrots, a squash, spinach and a very spicy red chilli, plus Greek yogurt, mayo and lime. Yum! Plus I have enough leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

 

 Another way of making money go further is to make cocktails like my peach, ginger and wine concoction. I spent around $15 and so far have had four drinks, and there is still half a bottle of each drink left! Plus there is no hangover that I've come to expect from inexpensive white wine!

 

As I ate breakfast, I caught up on the tabloid paper.

I was excited to see two of my favourite women in media - Chrissie Swan and Meshel Laurie - Melbourne based radio and TV darlings. When I grow up I want to be just like them. I think they are clever, funny, engaging and very true to themselves. Chrissie starts a new radio show with Jane Hall on Monday. After nine years of being a loyal Nova breakfast radio listener, I am making the switch to Mix FM to hear Chrissie and Jane take over the airwaves. Although the music on Mix will definitely not be to my taste (though there is a high chance of hearing Darren Hayes on Mix) - and Nova hasn't catered to my music tastes for quite some time - I am looking forward to hearing the warmth and humour Chrissie and Jane will bring to my morning. I tweeted them last night and they are very excited to hear I'll be making the switch!

I heard on the news this morning that NSW is banning tanning salons by 2014. While this is welcome news, and I hope my home state and the rest of Australia gets on board, I wish the ban could be implemented immediately. The Australian states up to 43 people could die from solarium caused skin cancer if the ban is not implemented immediately. And while it's impossible to legislate going out in the sun, it is a big step to ban companies from selling a means to get skin cancer.

Last night after my meeting with the CEO of Changing Faces, I had a leisurely night in - icecream and Sex and the City. Tonight I will still be relaxing, but doing some important research while I still have time - uni returns soon and I want to get on top of other things so I can give my thesis full attention.

Finally, I am taking part in Fat Mum Slim's February Photo A Day challenge. Lots of people are taking part, and the hashtag on Twitter and Instagram is #febphotoaday. It's fun! It is new for me to think about visual interpretation and presentation, and I can honestly say I am enjoying this iphonography thing! I am displaying my pictures on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram if you want to see. Are you taking part in it too?

Aim for the Stars, Changing Faces and cheese.

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It's been a funny week. After a four day weekend, I spent a short amount of time at work on Monday and then on Monday I went to hospital to get my sore foot looked at. The pain was excruciating. And so after a five and a half hour wait in emergency, a one hour consultation with a VERY NICE emergency doctor and a foot dressing, with instruction to return to the dermatologist the next morning. I had four days off work this week with couch rest. Last night I realised I hadn't had any human contact until someone knocked on my door at 9.30 pm alerting me to a car with its lights on. My foot is healing slowly and I can finally walk on it without wincing.

So today I went to work - it was good to see humans again. I stocked up on yummy foods from my green grocer and this for dinner.

Tasmanian cheese and salmon, hummus, tomato, fig, strawberries and grissini. I also made a cocktail of peach juice, ginger beer and white wine.

I also have some really exciting news... last week I got a call from surfer Layne Beachley who told me I have been successful in receiving a grant through her Aim for the Stars Foundation. I want to start the Australian branch of Changing Faces and proposed this idea in my Aim for the Stars application. The grants have been formally announced now so I wanted to tell you all here. Tonight I have a skype interview with the CEO of Changing Faces, and on Monday I meet with the Centre of Appearance Research who are here in Melbourne for a visit to discuss how I can work with them. I am so excited about all these opportunities coming to me!

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Next stop to find a sponsor for BlogHer. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it. 

It's all happening :)

Truths

"I know who I am because I wrote it here. The strangest thing."
~ Eden Riley

There are things I'd never tell some of the people I know, yet I am comfortable with telling the world. It's like words are swirling though my body, yearning to get out. Maybe that is why I itch so much - the words are nagging at me to be released. There are things that I want to write but I don't. These are things I can't bring myself to tell people - because writing about them makes them more real. And it's on paper - or in this case, on the internet - forever, shaping me differently.

When I started this blog, I never thought I'd get too personal. I never thought I'd left real life collide with my blog. But my blog became real life. Because, I think it's impossible to believe, now the internet is so prevalent in our lives, that what happens online isn't real life. Especially if you write about your life. 

I never thought I'd write about so many disability issues or share photos of my friends or write so openly about my skin. When I told my doctor I put a photo of my infected face on my blog, he was horrified, believing it would draw attention from nasty people. I was never going to write about loving someone so much, or about sex. I was never going to write about my flaws or insecurities. I guess I was pretty naive to think that my real life wouldn't collide with my blog. But all those things I thought best to hide - they're me. And my blog is me. And it's helped shape me and find my truths.

I think things seem gentler when they are written rather than spoken. It softens the blow writing them, and then sometimes, for the reader, they are raw and callous, a knife through the heard and a throat hard to swallow.

In my iPhone notes function I have 287 notes. Some are to do lists, others are song titles or setlists I noted down at concerts. There are many whole unedited blog entries among these notes. Lots of unsent letters and text drafts. And so many things that I have written that I can't say. It's strange what we keep to ourselves. Will the world be a worse place if they knew?

-

Last July I went to Nuffnang's Blogopolis conference. I was expecting it to be a really wonderful day. I was excited about seeing all the great friends I'd made, and new ones to be made. Eager to learn. I'd bought a new notebook and pen, and my phone was charged up. But in reality, I wanted to be anywhere but there. I look at my photos of the conference and party that followed, and they remind me that I never did write about what I'd learned there or who I'd met. I can't remember. (There were so many things I was supposed to write then, sponsored stuff. My health and my emotions were unwell. And I apologise for not committing.)

The night before Blogiopolis, I had dinner with Bern and went to the pre-conference party. I was really sore and I do remember that people were hugging me and brushing past my legs due to the cramped bar. My legs were in so much pain - it really did hurt to be touched that night.

When I got home, about 10 pm, I logged onto Facebook before bed and saw that after a month of very troubled times, he was so very desperate and was on his way out to go for a long drive. It's not like he has anywhere to be, he wrote, and he was leaving his dog at home. I panicked. He'd done it before - I'd seen the scars. I sent a text. No reply - it was the first time in a month that I hadn't heard from him - we'd been communicating too frequently (to my eventual dependence and detriment). The next morning I woke up early as my friends were coming by in a taxi to pick me up. Still no reply. I texted again, pretended to be calm. I hope you are ok.

This whole experience, up to that day and beyond, really taught me about how much I should reveal. While friends were just looking out, their judgment (of him) was difficult. "Don't worry about him, he's not your problem". "You'll only end up hurt". "You don't need someone like him in your life". All difficult to take. I didn't write about here, even though he gave me permission to as a way of coping. I couldn't find the words for a long time, and when I finally did, I'd text them into my phone and leave them there to scroll through. So I went the whole day of Blogopolis with only telling one person I was so worried for his safety. I pretended to check my phone for tweets, but I was really checking to see whether he was still alive.

He told me he was ok almost 24 hours after I saw that Facebook status. I didn't know what to say. I know I had a lot to drink at the afterparty, and I was very sad. I look back on that time, and realise what a toll it took on me. I felt a mess - emotionally and physically. I was in hospital a week later. It was hard knowing that a person I love so much was so desperate to end his life because the pain of recovery was too much. It was hard not writing about it too.

-

Two things were said (written) recently to make me think about that time again. In all honesty, I'm doing much better than I was. Happier, less thoughts devoted, not as resentful. But no less hurt. It almost made me not want to write, so I don't over think the situation (or lack of).

One thing he wrote made me want to ask "Are you ok?", again. Because I don't think things are. But it's not my place now, and so I don't. It doesn't mean I don't worry though. I don't think I have the strength to ask "are you ok?" and hear the answer. I can't take it on again. As Kings of Leon sing, call me now, baby, I'd come running.

The other thing he wrote, and perhaps during a time of desperation, was referring to love and me in the same sentence. I can't deal with that. Because actions don't match with words. And I feel like Somebody I used to know personified - addicted to a certain kind of sadness, shut off, cut out, glad that it is over, treated like a stranger (and that feels so rough), reading into every word you say and hung up on somebody that I used to know. (Tell me - is that song the most Facebook statused, relatable song ever?) So I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. Not even thanks. I can't be that person again. That person who is leaned on and confided in with no consideration of consequence. That person who is strung along with words of affection and feels important by being needed. That person who waits and worries for what's (not) coming next.
_

When I read that line (above) in Eden's blog, it resonated with me. I know who I am because I wrote it here. It's clarified my thoughts and enabled emotional growth. I am not sure if I'd be who I am today if it wasn't for my blog. Sometimes writing hurts. Speaking truths, realising things and having opinions thrown back at you. I've written blog entries that have made me feel I've run an emotional marathon, leaving me crying and worn out. But if I kept all those words inside, where would they go?

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If you need to seek help, there is a comprehensive list of counseling helplines and websites here.

Advertise on Tune into Radio Carly

You may recall last year I developed an online portfolio and press release. I'm not much good at working with brands yet, but I'm going to give it a go this year. I understand blog readers are sometimes averse to advertising, and I admit I am not a fan of blogs populated with advertising over content. I promise to keep the quality content happening here.

I am happy to display advertising on my blog. My blog averages around 25,000 unique hits a month, and has over 400 Google followers. I also have over 1,700 Twitter followers and my blog's Facebook page has over 550 fans. My blog is wide reaching - my blog reaches stay at home mums, people with ichthyosis and their parents, the chronic illness and disability community, and fashion and food lovers.

I am going to the BlogHer conference in New York in August 2012. I hope to seek sponsorship for this trip, and so I can work with you to promote your company in the best way possible. 

If you would like an advertising spot, email me for my rate card.  

Working with brands is not only limited to advertising. I am an accomplished speaker and budding TV presenter, and want to speak at YOUR organisation. Contact me if you are interested. 

I am also looking to increase my freelance writing portfolio - I'd love to write for more media outlets - print and online.

If you would like me to write for you, please contact me to discuss the opportunity. You can view some of my best work  here.

I also hope one day to turn some of my best writing into a book, detailing my experiences living with ichthyosis. 

Thanks for your support :)

Thick skin.

 "To escape criticism, do nothing, say nothing, be nothing."
~ Elbert Hubbard

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Considering my skin is physically very thin and fragile, I think I have pretty thick skin (metaphorically). And considering how much judgment I receive about my appearance, it's funny how I put myself out there to receive more.

The day job I have - writing and events - means that I'm prone to criticism whenever there's a spelling mistake or a misunderstanding or an omission of information in an invitation. When I write content at work, it comes back to me with track changes and red pen marks and arrows and opinions. I've learned to take this sort of criticism less personally - after all I'm presenting fact, rather than personal opinion - and use it to improve next time I write.

Choosing to blog and write outside of work has also meant I've had to develop a sense of resilience. Everyone's an editor, everyone's a critic, and they're not afraid to voice it.

After blogging about the Typo retard card last week, the reality of high readership, divisive opinions and the way people value words hit me. Of course, I am open to differing opinion, but when I am personally criticised for something I believe in - respect for people with disabilities - it can be hard. I resassured myself that many of the readers and commenters had come to my blog fresh, and with no context about why I write, or my involvement in the disability community. And from the comments I received on Twitter, Facebook and this blog, I realised that the issue needed to be raised to help people think different about how they use derogatory words.

Mia Freedman wrote about having thick skin. "Someone once said to me “What other people think of you is none of your business”. I think that’s excellent advice but it’s not always easy to follow. Because no matter how much you try not to care or be diverted by mindless abuse from strangers who can’t spell and use exclamation points with gay abandon, it can be tricky to look away."

It can be tricky. And for every positive comment I receive, the negative ones play on my mind more. Most bloggers say they write for themselves. I think this is true of myself to an extent - I don't consider my blog's audience as much as my audience at work. It feels great to have a readership, recognition and discussion generated. But when writing comes from a place of personal experience or strong belief, opinions from others can sting. Sometimes the sting is the same feeling as when my skin is sore and I rip off my stocking, leaving it bloody and throbbing. And fortunately like my skin, a sense of renewal ensues and the sting doesn't linger too long.

These past three weeks or so I've felt the skin on the sole of my foot gradually tear away from the arch. And it's become unbearably painful this long weekend. The pain is piercing and throbbing and makes my foot very hard to walk on, touch or have fabric next to. My feet are very ticklish too so I feel like I am aware of every movement or touch on my foot.

I am currently on the couch with my legs elevated, and my foot is drying from a salt bath. I'll spare you a photo of the wound site, because it is quite yucky. But here is a photo of my bandaged (Tubefasted?) foot last night - Mum and I went to St Kilda for Spanish Tapas - will blog about it soon. I was hobbling and I did realise that for one in my life, wearing heels would have been the more sensible option over flats because walking on the ball of my foot took the pressure off the pain. Sadly that is the only outfit photo from last night.

Aside from the salt bath, I've had to take antibiotics, panadol and bandage it up with cotton pads and antiseptic cream. Cutting the flappy skin away from my foot is the worst. This morning I went to buy some more crepe bandages. Who knew they were so expensive!?! I've been fortunate enough to get them from the hospital after a stay, but today I saw they are over $8 a bandage. Daylight robbery.

  

I also bought some healthy-ish comfort food to make me feel a bit better. Yalla chocolate mousse and mango yoghurt with granola, and some figs (there are about six in the container, and I will eat them quickly!) - among some other fruity goodies. A big shout out to The Happy Apple Grocer who always make me feel happy when I shop there.  My breakfast was a glass of pineapple juice, a fig and the Yalla yoghurt.

 

My foot will be ok. It really is so painful, and I continue to hate the unpredictability of this condition, but I have to tell myself toughen up, princess, and just ride the pain out. It's good I enjoy sitting down so much!

This physical skin fragility has put the need for metaphorical skin thickness into perspective. The criticism I receive writing and putting my opinion out there could never be as painful as the skin tear and infection on my foot.

It hasn't been all doom and gloom this long weekend. Mum's been here and we have had a nice time cooking and eating good food, cleaning up a bit and drinking wine. I received some super exciting news which I will be able to reveal publicly soon. I also booked my flights to Los Angeles and New York via Auckland - thanks for all the airline advice on Twitter - I'll be flying Air New Zealand. I arrive in Los Angeles on 22 July and get to New York on 26 July, returning 12 August! And I also bought a new washing machine because mine broke. Looks like I'll be living on beans and rice until the end of the year to pay for it all.