Life - a variation on the same day?

Another Friday. Another night at the Wairalda Rail Social Club. Tonight was HUGE. Tony, a country and western singer belted out hits by Johnnie Cash, Elvis, Willie Nelson. I danced with wild abandon around the shed being twirled and spun by John and then was shown up on the dance floor by 70-year-old Olive. Way to move it girlfriend!

I got the honour of being barrel girl for the meat raffle (eat your heart out Jennifer Hawkins) and had to call out the raffle ticket winners after strict instructions that I must check the winning tickets against the ticket being drawn - it's serious business out here, the meat raffles) and even got up a sang a tune on the ole guitar. How I wished I knew Joelene by Dolly Parton instead of just my own songs.

Friday night got me to pondering how similar every day, week and year can be especially out here. I remember sitting at Lulu's Cafe in Mullum watching the same regulars, drinking the same coffee, smoking the same cigarettes, sitting in the same spots, thinking how life was just a variation on the same day. I have always fought against routine, always needing the 'new' to keep me stimulated and happy but the people at the Wairalda Rails seem much more content with their lot rather than on an eternal search for ... what? Whether it's a case of expectation or personality I'm not so sure. It will be my last night at the Rail for a while as I leave in a couple of days but no doubt, when I return, everyone will be sitting in the same chairs (Glenn inadvertently upset the natural order last week sitting in Harry's chair), buying a shit load raffle tickets, drinking beer, smoking like there is no tomorrow and having a laugh.

While I say I crave the new, I also realise how much my own mind runs on an old programme. I called this blog 'the me change' because there were things that I wanted to change in my life but two weeks on I realise that while I may have changed location but I have bought my head and bad habits with me. The same repetitive thought patterns swirl around my head (thinking about the past, plotting the future), I still waste inordinate amounts of time on the internet especially when I want to avoid reality, I have smoked (despite my earlier pledge, luckily nobody has hit me up for the fifty bucks yet), I still haven't written the allocated 3 hours fiction per day (I have been writing but not with zeal and determination needed to finish a novel), I haven't exercised every day, I still order a double shot skinny latte, I still forget to take my thyroid medication even though when I don't it makes me loony and fat, I still don't drink enough water, I still hold grudges far too long, I still feel the need to be right, I still slouch. I still don't meditate when I know how good it makes me feel, I could go on and on and on and on.

In order to really change I thought I'd put my pledge of changes here. Apparently it takes 21 days to form new habits. So the Me Changes I'd like to make are:

1. No smoking. Both my nan died on cancer, my grandfather of emphysema and my father of heart disease. Nuff said.

2. Write fiction 3 hours per day. Every day apart from Sunday.

3. Get puffed out once a day - swimming, walking, bike riding.

4. Drink 8 glasses of water

5. Stop obsessing over things that never were and were never meant to be.

6. Avoid all unhealthy habitual behaviours by doing the opposite of what I usually do.

I started this morning actually. Instead of ordering my regular coffee, I had a skinny flat white. Embrace the change!

PMT - it's armless really

‘PMT it’s dynamite, PMT it’s dynamite’ are the lyrics AC/DC should have written (incidentally I’m going to see the legendary AccaDacca in February in Sydney). Every month I am gifted a day when it all feels a bit shit and I feel a bit grumpy, over sensitive, and highly emotional. If you happen to be an ex boyfriend of mine you’ll be nodding your head in acknowledgement. The weird thing is I always expect it but am surprised when it comes EVERY FUCKING MONTH. Then at the end of the day, a light blub suddenly turns on and I go, “oh yeah I must be pre-mental, I’m not really a psycho bitch after all”. I hate admitting the reason for my overly emotional outburst was due to PMT as it makes the issue I’ve been emoting over, seem trite and trivial. I’VE GOT A POINT YOU KNOW!!!!

Anyway, it’s not my fault. REALLY. DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The primary biological reason is the decreased progesterone levels before the mystical shedding of the lining – which amazingly is only a thimble full of blood – being a woman’s magazine journalist I know these sort of things and I’m not afraid to use them. If you’re getting all grossed out then remember it’s just the cycle of the life and that lining was once your first ever home and it’s a bloody miracle if you got to that prime real estate ahead of all of your spermy buddies as the chances of impregnation based on one sexual act per ovulation is 1 in 225 billion. That number escalate the more times your Mum and Dad shagged during each cycle. Sorry to put that image of your Mum and Dad shagging in your head on a Friday.

Speaking of cycles. I went for a bike ride around Bingara with a broken seat, which kept dipping backwards or falling completely off to the side. I had to ride past the pub where four local dudes where having a beer outside. It was hardly dignified as due to the angle of the seat exposing more crack than a fat beer bellied truckie in a pair of Stubbies pending over to pick up a penny. Then to add to my shame then seat fell off leaving just the pole – tre classy lady. I’m officially Bingara’s first ever pole dancer. As my reputation lies in tatters, I take comfort from Glenn’s neighbour who says in Bingara everyone knows what everybody is doing, and if they don’t they make it up.

Someday we'll find it the Rainbow Connection

It was a big Saturday night in Woolomin when we headed about 2 and a half hours away to the North West Rainbow Connection dance, an opportunity for rural gays and lesbians to get together and party like it's, well, 1976. Woolomin, is a sleepy little town about half an hour outside Tamworth and if only locals knew! The dance floor filled up in an instant, when the Grease Medley came powering out over the speakers and everybody chanelled either Sandy and Danny or both. The big gay hits kept coming like there was no tomorrow, Rocky Horror's The Time Warp, at least four Village people hits including YMCA with all the action, Pet Shop Boys with Dusty Springfield singing, You were always on my mind. It was a quirky crowd who were all up for meeting new people. Some of the girls from Armidale were disappointed that I was straight, as you can imagine it's pretty hard to meet gay people out in the bush. There was also a raffle and I was delighted to win what Glenn calls 'my aids t-shirt'. Modelled here for your viewing pleasure.

A very happy man

This is John, he's happy and there is a genuine warmth that just exudes out of him. I hope one day to be as happy as John.

The best Friday night out in town

We headed over to the Wairalda Rail Social Club for Friday night dinner. I had visited on my last trip and had the best Friday night out I'd had in ages. I love feeling a quasi part of the community (cries of G'day Lol when I walked in the door), meat raffles (Glenn won, I didn't), talking about farming (it was here, I learnt that if a new calf dies and mummy cow is full of milk, you have to buy a new calf, then skin the dead calf and make the new calf wear the dead calf's skin and then rub the piss of mummy cow all over it, which cannot be a good feeling) getting a $3 dinner (curried sausage or beef stew) and having a laugh (everyone loves a good piss take). It was a top night and beats going to the Beach Hotel on Friday in Byron any day.

Rissole at the Rissole

Who wouldn't be tempted by this six dollar lunch at the RSL in Barrabra? This tasty morsel may look slightly toxic but the rissoles and gravy were actually very tasty. Or maybe I was incredibly hungry? Or maybe I don't know my taste buds from my bum hole? Answers on a postcard.

Is it just me or does this tree look like a beautiful woman with an afro wearing platform boots dancing?