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very now and again, once in a blue moon or so, I decide to do something a little bit spontaneous. I decide I’m bored out of my brains with the mundanity of day to day life and want to go on an adventure. Thing is, spontaneity has never really been my forte. Most of the time, I’m that person that rounds up the troops and plans everything down to a tee. So when I do and do something on the fly, I have no idea what I’m going. In fact, it always feels almost like the universe is working against me, trying it’s hardest to make sure I don’t succeed.
This time around, my spontaneous decision involved, going on a trip down the coast this weekend, just for fun. Good idea right? Well, as it turned out my timing was (as usual) a little off. Every single person I talked to over the phone told me that, sure, normally they’d have plenty of space, but this week Lorne was being used as the conference venue in Victoria. There were no fewer than three statewide meetings happening in that cute little seaside hamlet that weekend and, predictably, almost everything was booked up. Usually, I’d just bring a tent and camp it out, but there’s actually a pretty severe weather warning for the night I want to be in Lorne, so I really do need to find somewhere to stay.
Of course, finding great accommodation on the Great Ocean Road is never a problem. There are so many awesome places to stay in this part of the world that it’s kind of ridiculous, it’s just so typical that the one time I want to be in Lorne, everywhere’s booked up. But I still feel like it’s a good idea, so maybe I should just cool my jets on the ‘spontaneous’ front and plan it out a little more. Take my time, invite some friends, have a good time.
Call me crazy, but I think the boss is supposed to be the one who calls the shots in an office, not his PA. This lady has just come from nowhere, supposedly some big swanky office in the city, and now she thinks she runs the place. And sure, I know our boss is an idiot, but he’s not the type of idiot who usually lets people just walk all over him. He’s the type of idiot who takes a stand and gets things done in the worst possible way, stupidly! And we love him for it. Or rather, we used to.
Everyone has a feature that they like. Even if they have low self esteem and think of themselves as ugly, usually they can still say, ‘My favourite feature is my eyes’ or ‘I like my complexion.’ In my case, it’s always been my lips. I’ve always had great heart shape lips ala Marilyn Monroe and they’ve even been a spectacular shade of natural ruby. 
It’s true that I watch too much TV. Last night I found myself watching an episode of 
Matt’s back in town! 
So I was watching an anime about a space octopus who also happens to be a great teacher. I think it was called 
It’s tough, being born into a family of square pegs when you’re a dodecahedron-shaped hole. I guess that kind of counts as a maths analogy, which is ironic because my life’s greatest pet peeve is that all my relatives are maths people. Seriously, if there’s a single person in my family who doesn’t work in finance, maths lecturing or tax returns, I haven’t heard of them. My younger brother is 
It’s a great life, being a dog. Or a cat. Still, I feel like cats are able to entertain themselves more efficiently, so maybe they have the edge. If an owner leaves a dog at home for hours, they generally have to resort to either sleeping all day or tearing up the furniture. Cats just do their own thing, with the occasional exception of when they go for the curtains. So yeah, I’d be a cat in my next life.
Probably a bit too often, I find myself worrying about Mike. Mike is one of those school friends that, although I keep in really good touch with, has taken a very different path in life than yours truly. Instead of following what I would consider to be the well trodden and expected path, Mike took a hard left when we left school, entering into a world I know nothing about. I can’t talk very explicitly about it, but I can say that he works with cars. 
See, I find it really interesting that most parents (cough, my parents, cough) have an exceedingly large number of double standards. They’re everywhere: I’m not allowed to make any mess but if mum does it, it’s fine, I have to let them know where I am all the time, but dad can disappear for days on end, that kind of thing. The worst thing though (and I mean the worst) is the double standards when it comes to communication. If I want to get something done around the house, with regards to the house, I basically have to lodge a form in triplicate, that’s how complicated it is. But if mum or dad want something done that will directly impact me, they just do it.