To set the scene, I am sitting in my local bar, with my laptop infront of me and a glass of the very good house white beside me. I come here quite frequently, to get away from my flatmate, drink the hours away, talk shit, and occasionally use the free wireless. I first came down here on my own about a year ago, when I realised I was becoming a cat lady and i don't actually have any cats. Too much time alone can turn you into a freak, so I've heard, so I wandered down the street to this tiny little bar, ordered a glass of red and started writing to my Aunty Kerry. The letter was never finished. Instead, I made friends and became a regular.
So I'm down here, checking out my facebook page and looking for apartments to rent. I have become obsessed with finding a new, one bedroom place all of my own. I can, literally no longer take sharing, and if I don't find something soon, someone's going to be killed, in his sleep, with a spoon. Last night i was down here at the bar (no, I'm not an alcoholic) and was telling my real estate woes to another regular Kon. It just so happens that this fine man, is in fact, a real estate agent. He says to me, full of the confidence that people who sell houses for a living have, "We'll find you a place". What a nice, supportive thing to say I thought...then continued drinking. I walk in today, and low and behold, he has already found something. And even though its not in my precious Elwood, but the next suburb over, its apparently beautiful, just in my price range, and I'll be the FIRST person to look at it.
This is just one of the perks of having a local, where the people are nice and think you're o.k too. Another perk is being invited to a movie premiere. Yep you read it right, a premiere. Oh so exciting, and right up my alley. John, another regular, was invited by yet another regular, and he in turn invited me, after realising that the date he currently had was not a good idea. Unfortunately, try as I might to get out of work on the big day, I have had to pass up a great party so i can sell suits to race go'ers who will no doubt ruin said suit at the Cox Plate on Saturday. Do I sound excited?
Nevermind, at least I'll be earning some money, which I need in order to get my car fixed tomorrow. That's another story....
Time for another drink!

Salmon and Camembert Quiche

It was a lovely Melbourne day, meaning, it might not rain so best do what you need to now. So, I headed down to the local safeway for a few supplies I'd forgotten to get after work. It was my long awaited day off, and to celebrate, apart from finally having time to clean some underwear, I was cooking myself a nice dinner. I quickly grabbed what I needed, dodging the mean old ladies who frequented my local shop, and got out. As I walked to my car, i went to step over one of those dividing walls around the trees, and fell flat on my face, in slow motion, no less. (Well that's what it felt like). I came down with a heavy crash, on my right knee with my right arm tucked up under my shoulder. You can imagine my horror...and pain! I drove home a little shaken, but thought I was o.k, but I hurt my arm so bad I had to take a day off work!
Now, the bugger about hurting yourself, or just being sick like I was last week, when you're single, is that you have to take care of yourself, and when you're incapacitated, that can be a little tricky. All I really want in these times is my mum, but she's not actually that helpful. She's always slightly annoyed while making you a cup of tea. So, there i was, putting paw paw ointment on the gash on my right knee, wondering if I'd broken my arm (a hairline fracture perhaps? Thats what Greys Anatomy does to you) and wishing there was someone to say "Are you o.k?", "can I get you some ice" or "would you like a cocktail with that ice?" Instead I sucked it up, made my dinner with a glass of wine in my hand and was thoroughly impressed with my bad self.
The funny thing about being single, is that there are moments when you think having bloke would make things easier. You know, when you're sick, or hurt, or bringing in the groceries. But really, being single is easy...it's relationships that are hard.
Take it from me, I can't make 'em stick to save myself! salmon and Camembert Quiche however, is a snap.

The beginning, obviously

Lets see, here i am the loungeroom of a small, but decent looking apartment (aside from the clutter of course),sitting on my flatmates overly huge couch with my laptop perched on my lap. I had a sudden urge to stop being a frustrated writer and actually write, for the public. Now I'm here, I barely know what to say, other than"how the fuck did I get here?", and I mean here in my life, not this blog thing, which was easy, even for me.

Let me explain....I am a 30yr old, single woman with no career prospects, which is largely my own damn fault. Being 30 would be no big deal, if only I had a great job I loved and even dare I say it, a man who loved me. Oh, and a dog, and a great house and a nicer car and... you get the idea. Instead, 30 feels like a failure.

The world should be my oyster. I'm young, I look younger, I'm healthy and I have no responsibilities. I can do whatever I want. So how come I don't know what I want, and the world currently feels like my burnt toast?

I guess what I should be asking, is "where to from here?".....Indeed.