Old friends and other ways to offend someone

Last night seemed to be the night for catching up with people I haven't seen for months. A group of us who met years ago doing a swing dancing class in the scummiest venue in Melbourne's north west heard that our teacher was going to be taking a break from teaching the venue for a while, so we all went along to have a catch up, and wish her luck. Most of us don't dance anymore - or not regularly, anyway - but we've stayed in a vague kind of contact, mostly through a tenuous network of gossip and emails.

It was great to be with them all again, and to dance the night away (but not too late. It was, afterall, a school night). There were laughs and giggles, and girls being picked up and thrown around by guys - not nearly as violent as it seems - and somewhere in the middle of all that, it was like we'd never stopped meeting once a week. It was easy to forget that one of the guys had his engagement broken off two weeks ago, much to his surprise; that one of the girls now spends most of her time overseas, travelling for work from London to New York to Paris to Melbourne, and barely knows where she is going to be from one week to the next. We knew the topics to avoid - nobody asked one of the guys where his now ex-wife was, or mentioned too much the two of the group who now live in London, although we all agreed that getting together like that made us miss them more. It was a close group, and fitted together again like there hadn't been almost 18 months since we'd all been in one place together. It was good enough that we've all agreed to aother night together not too far away, not letting things slide for so long next time.

In contrast, earlier that night I had a text message from a girl I was friends with at uni. I won't say we're still friends, but we've kept in fairly loose contact since we graduated, generally meeting up every 6 months or so, but we haven't been in contact since February apart from the odd text message though. At uni we were inseperable. For five years, we spoke or met up or emailled almost every day. It was always going to change after we stopped having classes together and went to work on what are basically different sides of the building industry, but we were fairly certain that we had enough in common to keep the friendship going. Now, not even four years after she finished studying (I did another 2 years), we're barely talking. We had the same interests, the same sense of humour, the same industry, but somehow we drifted apart. And then, last night, I got a text message wishing me a happy birthday. Only problem is, my birthday was in May. And no matter how much she might have apologised for forgetting - and don't get me wrong, she did, trying to make up for such a "shitty thing" - but it couldn't change the fact that she had forgotten. For some reason, I'm finding it very hard to respond to the message. Our lives seem to have moved too far apart now. Incidentally, her birthday is December 2nd. I've never missed it, and I didn't need to look it up to know that. But people change, and who knows where I'll be by the time her birthday rolls around? I might send her some birthday wishes. I might even catch up with her. Who can say what will happen between now and then? I never thought we'd end up here, that's for sure.

Oh my gosh....

Wow...There's someone apart from me reading this? (And clearly, looking at some of the typos I let get through here, I'm not reading it nearly close enough before hitting the little post button...)

I know I just posted something a few minutes ago, but that was before I got any feedback! I thought this was just for me, but I've discovered that it's kind of fun to have an audience - even if it is an audience of one.

So Reese, thanks heaps for commenting. It's made my day, and given how bad it's been so far, that's quite the achievement. Incidentally, I had a peek at your blog too, and it's got some amazing photos. Love where you live! And yes, I know, that should be posted in the comments on your blog too - it will be, but there's only so much stealthy office internet use I can squeeze into one day! Sadly, my own blog seems to take up most of it today.

Again, thanks!!! And if anyone else happens to stumble across this (I'm guessing that's the only way to find me, since I'm not exactly telling the world about doing this), please feel free to comment - especially if it's nice.

Shiny red stuff

Have to say, I think there's been admirable restraint in not blogging every minute detail of my life on here, even if it mostly because I'm trying to keep it to things that I think are either not boring, or things I wouldn't mind if my Dad stumbled across. Which brings me to contemplating the lovely shiny red metallic nail polish I put on on Saturday night. There aren't nearly enough red things in my world right now. I have a beanie, a scarf, a hand bag, and now nail polish. Oh, and the warmest polar fleece wind stopper jacket, which is probably one of my favourite winter rug-up things...But its not enough. I want red shoes, a red coat and a red top to wear when I go out partying! I'm not sure why I have this sudden fixation with red - it could be because it blends so well with my last colour obsessions, black and grey (although there was a minor flirtation with teal, and one with brown, that don't quite go so well). I do know exactly where this particular colour fetish started. It was at work, strangely enough, in a kitchen design that will never be built, now, thanks to some dodgy developers - but that's a story for another day. Shiny red kitchen cupboards, with sleek white stone benches. That was what started it all off. I was so impressed with my own computer modelling of the kicthen, that ever since I've been looking for all things red. And finally, otehr people must be as well, because I'm seeing things in the shops that are the exact shades I'm looking for. Only catch is, now I can't buy them, for one reason or another (grr to the accountant who screwed up somewhere in one of the three places I've worked in the last financial year, not taking out nearly enough tax, leaving me with a choice between skipping the country - a viable option - or selling my soul for filthy lucre). Why does it always work like that???

So the upshot is that I have come up with a new version of Murphy's Law. If you're looking for something in the shops, you will find it the day you have no cash - or the day after you settled for the next best thing that was twice the price. It might not solve the ever more dangerous and decidedly childish round of "well they started it"s coming out of the Middle East - again, something for a day when I'm not trying to cheer myself up after a 2-filling trip to the dentist at 8am on a Monday morning - but it's a rule to be aware of, and true for all that!

Not a fish...or Finnish

The lovely people at Google have just brought something to my attention. (OK, they didn't really do anything...I ran a search out of curiousity, to see if this blog appeared...sad, but true.) And it turns out, there are thousands of posts relating to Killi...so I thought I'd take this opportunity to clear something up, incase anyone should ever accidentally stumble across this while looking for something else. The Killi referred to in the name of this blog is not a fish. Nor does it relate to Kilimanjaro (although the two have been linked in the past). It has nothing to do with a Finnish singer by the same name. Nor is it anything to do with Lord of the Rings (there are an amazing number of people who, in the past, have thought that the name was to do with one of the dwarfs in The Hobbit. I did read The Hobbit a long time ago, and there were plenty of -illi-named dwarfs. As far as I remember, Killi was not one of them). Instead, the name comes from something silly, and has been stuck to me since I was about 14 years old. One of my high school friends had a few problems spelling what I had thought was a fairly simple name (and no, I'm not going to say what it is...need some privacy!). So ever since, I've been known as Killi.

World Cup insanity

So the World Cup is over, and Italy won. I'm sure it's a big thing if you're Italian - even if you're Italian Australian...What I'm not sure about is whether it is a sane thing to get up at 3 in the morning when you have no ties to either of the countries playing. I have to say, I didn't do it after Australia went out. And for all the people saying that Italy winning is some consolation? No. It's not. We lost. Move on with your lives. Look to the future. Hope we beat the pants off the Italians next time we meet, instead of pondering what-ifs.

One good thing about the world cup though, that my new hobbie (the Tour de France - at least it has a handy highlights package at 6pm every night, even if I hardly ever get home in time to see it) doesn't have. The World Cup united a whole lot of people who would otherwise have nothing in common. They found common ground in hating the referees. For that, we can all be grateful.

And in other exciting news, my hockey team have found a team even more crap than we are. We managed to beat this team for the second time. Shocking but true.

Hello!!!

OK. This is kind of exciting, having my own blog. I know, I know, there are thousands out there, and I'm probably the only person who's going to read this post, but at the same time, its a bit exciting. I might be sitting here in my dressing gown, with fluffy slippers on (which, incidently I discovered have a big split in the sole that let in water when I had to go outside to shift my car the other night...hate that!), but I'm kind of talking to the world, so it's all good!

What can I say? Jen Lancaster (author of Bitter is the New Black has a lot to answer for here. I just finished reading her book during the week and was inspired by the idea of getting my thoughts out into the world in a way that doesn't involve going through editors, publishing, and journalism. The fact that my thoughts are irrelevant to most other people is not going to deter me, so anyone unlucky enough to stumble across this should be warned right now...There was also the thought that I work in an industry that's being tipped to implode any minute now, and this would at least give me something to do other than thumb twiddling should my job fall by the wayside. I can't say that I'd be exactly devastated by that (anyonewhothinks architecture is an exciting and glamourous career shourd spend a day watching us agonise over the choice of toilet bowl for a primary school for A WHOLE DAY. They might change their mind after a glimpse into the mind numbing world of attention to detail...once they woke up, that is), but I do like getting a pay cheque every so often. It seems to make my world run that much smoother.

For anyone else, here's a thought for the day...With the new financial year just started here in Australia, everyone was wondering just how the new round of tax cuts was going to affect them, expecting a slightly larger pay packet. So, you can guess how surprised my Mum was when her pay came out to be almost exactly the same. After all the fuss that was made about this round of cuts, you'd think that there was going to be twice as much money in your pay at the end of the week. Instead, my Mum, who works 20 hours a week in retail, one of the lowest paid and least appreciated jobs around in my humble opinion, found herself the proud owner of an extra 81 cents. That's right. Not even a whole dollar. So, the next time you're in a shop, have a think about that. Pro rata, shop assistants can boast that they have $1.62 more per week to spend. That almsot buys them a litre of petrol. Well, it does this week, but next? Who knows...

So, I officially have a ranting blog to vent spleen...and spleen has been vented accordingly...Let's see how long I can keep up the enthusiasm for doing this...Given how bored I get at work (does Ebay count as mis-use of office resources? I'm in trouble if it does...) I can see the posts coming thick and fast for the next 98 days...beyond that, who knows...