Daily Prompt – Sweet Little Lies

As kids, we’re told, time and again, that lying is wrong. Do you believe that’s always true? In your book, are there any exceptions?

Everybody lies. It’s that simple, and if anybody tells you that they’re not a liar… is lying.

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Daily Prompt – No Time To Waste

Fill in the blank: “Life is too short to _____.” Now, write a post telling us how you’ve come to that conclusion.

Life is too short to wallow in sadness and misery.

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24 Sept – Self Healing

Do you think it is possible to heal on our own, or do we always need to reach out for the comfort of other people in order to fully heal?

I can’t really speak for anybody else, but I know for my own peace of mind, I do all my healing predominantly by myself.

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Day 21 – The End??

You’re almost there! Tell us how you feel about endings.


Well today is the last day of the NaBloPoMo writing challenge.

I’m somewhat surprised that I managed to make it the whole month, although, admittedly, I didn’t actually post every day as I had a tendency to skip a couple of days, but then I’d catch up on a few posts all at once. I still managed to address all the prompts, it’s just that it wasn’t exactly one per day, like I was supposed to.

Is that wrong? Am I going to receive some kind of interwebs penalty?


I do feel a sense of achievement, however, it’s not really how I thought I would feel. It’s not the standing-on-top-of-a-mountain-after-hiking-for-several-days-and-nearly-losing-a-leg-but-still-surviving kind of achievement,

Please, be a more generic image...


but more of a pat-yourself-on-the-back / good-for-you kind of achievement.

whaddya want, a parade or something?

If anything, it’s like an anti-climax. Whether it’s because the month has just passed so quickly (it’s already been a week since my birthday!!) or because NaBloPoMo (Or NaBlahBlahBlah as I call it) was only 21 prompts, because it didn’t include weekends – it’s over.

I’m actually quite pleased with myself in that I managed to challenge myself, and actually stick to that challenge for the whole month. I’ve gotten into the bad habit of writing my posts either whilst I’m at work, or late at night after Hulk goes to bed. It makes it hard because I haven’t told him that I’ve even been writing this blog, and I’m not entirely sure if I will tell him. I’ll have to address that one at a later point.

Going into this, I really didn’t know what to expect. When I first started thinking about writing a blog, I know that I have a lot to say, I just don’t necessarily know what to write and where to start. I’ve found that having prompts has been really helpful for me to just get words flowing out of my brain. Although the frustration comes in the form of such open-ended questions, because my brain starts racing at a million-miles-an-hour thinking of at least a dozen different possible ways that I can respond. I have a tendency to get over-analytical. If anything, that has been more of a challenge – taking a dozen different answers and trying to focus purely on one response.

Evidently, some of those posts have multiple answers, or at least briefly address a few potential responses and the reasons as to why. I think I would find it much easier if the prompts were more specific. Rather than ask me something like “What is your favourite dish?”, instead try something like “What is your favourite dish that your parents used to make when you were a child”, or “what was your favourite dish that you used to eat when you were a poor student living in a share house?” and I’d be like ‘Well that’s easy, microwave cheesy-pepper rice with tinned tuna’.

I’ve reached a point where I don’t actually want this to end. This has been something that I’ve needed just for me. And I’ve really enjoyed it. I’ve really missed writing. I’ve missed ranting. I’ve missed getting thoughts out of my head and clearing my mind. Before I met Hulk, I used to write a lot. Whether it was just creative writing, or writing in a journal, it was still something, but soon enough I ran out of time for it, and it was abandoned. Forgotten about. Never to be spoken of again.

Like an abandoned baby. Or an abortion. Ooh, too much.

And please, don’t fucking start with me about abortions and being insensitive. Nobody is forcing you to read this. You made a choice to do so. I’m not going to be held responsible for you finding my words on a screen offensive. I’m entitled to an opinion, just like everybody else. Which means my opinion doesn’t have to be the same as your opinion and vice-versa. So go take you two-cents and your ‘I’VE GOT SOMETHING TO SAY’


and take it somewhere else.

Daily Prompt: Inside the Actor’s Studio

On the interview show Inside the Actors’ Studio, host James Lipton asks each of his guests the same ten questions. What are your responses?

What is your favourite word?

Moll. As in ‘She’s SUCH a moll.’ It’s not a nice word, but it’s a funny word. I find something quite Australian and bogan about it. Sometimes I like to preface it – fucking moll / stupid moll etc. Even then, I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s my favourite word, it’s just a word that I tend to use quite a lot. *sigh* me and my potty-mouth. But we’ll get to that in a little bit…

What is your least favourite word?


– n

  1. A bundle of sticks or twigs, esp when bound together and used as fuel
  2. A bundle of iron bars, esp from a box formed by four pieces of wrought iron and filled with scrap to be forged into wrought iron
  3. A ball of chopped meat, usually pork liver, bound with herbs and bread and eaten fried
  4. A bundle of anything

 I’m not entirely sure at what point this word became a derogatory term for those of us who are so unbelievably fabulous.  But seriously, how does something with that definition become a slang term that’s full of hate?

Growing up, this was a term that I heard constantly. And I’m talking constantly!! I think I bore the worst of it during high-school, when I would just be walking up the hill and a car would drive past and some dickhead would wind their window down and shout it out to me. Of course this would always happen when I was surrounded by other people, and they’d all chuckle away to themselves… and then I’d stop, take a breath and continue up the hill to school…

…secretly hoping that that car would suddenly explode, or get hit by a truck and they would die a horrible, slow, painful death. And then as they’re calling out to me for help, I’d just ignore them and continue on to school.

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

What a strange question! I’m not entirely sure how I feel about the usage of the phrase ‘turns you on’ in this context as it seems a bit disjointed to me, but I’ll see how I go. 

I think that there are a large variety of things that can fuel my creativity / spiritual awareness / emotions. In terms of creativity, it can be broken down to smaller sub-sections ie, dance, writing, etc. My favourite moment in terms of dance creativity is doing an actual dance class. Not necessarily the classes or the style that I teach, but other people’s classes. I love the feeling, that rush that I get when I go to an open dance class and learn a challenging, but awesome hip-hop / house routine. On the flip side, it could even be something as simple as performing a very simple contemporary routine, and fully immersing myself in the movement and the music, and dancing with nothing but pure passion and raw emotion… even that can (and has) lead me to getting so emotionally worked up, it’s almost lead me to tears. Not because the music makes me sad or anything, but because there’s such an overwhelming rush of so many different emotions, and I don’t really know how to process them all at once.

Emotionally, I can be a bit of a wreck. Admittedly, I keep a lot of my emotions bottled up. We’re talking A LOT!! Friends of mine may see my rants that I post on facebook, or listen to me harp on about something that pisses me off, but that’s merely scratching the surface. I sometimes find myself yelling at the TV during a show or a movie when the character does something really stupid.

I’ve also found myself at times being somewhere peaceful and then being flooded by emotion, and breaking down into an unattractive blubbering mess, sometimes without any actual understanding of why I’m even crying in the first place. I guess I just have a lot of feelings.

What turns you off?

How long have I got to answer this? Maybe I should keep it short and sharp:

  • Rotten teeth and / or terrible breath
  • Smokers
  • Drug addicts
  • People who use religion to spill their hate to the world
  • Bullies
  • People who are so full of themselves / arrogant / ‘God’ complex
  • Poor hygiene
  • Complete lack of common sense

What is your favourite curse word?


It’s the perfect way to describe somebody. Oh my god, I love that word. It’s reached a point that even amongst my circle of friends, if they hear / read that word, they instantly think of me. It’s a great marketing ploy, but, just the wrong kind of marketing.

Apart from that, generally, I swear a lot. No, really, a lot!! Sometimes to the point where I don’t even know that I’m doing it, and I have to consciously think about monitoring my sentences. I’m waiting for the day that I go to put a phone call on hold at work whilst I grumble ‘you have GOT to be fucking kidding me’, but don’t actually put them on hold, and they hear what I say. I think that’s the one thing that truly terrifies me.

What sound or noise do you love?

The sound of waves crashing on the beach. The sound of rain (when I’m inside and not stuck out there getting drenched). 

What sound or noise do you hate?

Crying babies. Jackhammers (especially at 6am). And, like, when, like, teenage girls, like, talk to, like, each other, like, and then everything? like, they say? Like, sounds, like, a question? It makes me want to punch them in the throat to make the pain stop.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

I’d like to be a massage therapist – I have good hands, apparently. When I was at dance school, I used to get massages quite regularly, and I quickly learnt (through observation) what I enjoy, what’s painful, and just basic technique. When we would have a break at school, one of the girls would ask if I could rub her shoulders, and it spread like wildfire. Even now at work, people tend to just plonk themselves in my chair and wait for me to return so I can give them a quick shoulder rub.

However, I have this feeling that if I actually learnt it properly and did a couple of courses, I’d grow to hate it.

I wish I could give Hulk massages, but he can’t handle any kind of pressure. He’s far too sensitive. So it’s a talent that’s just wasting away. If you want a massage, my number is 0418…. hehehe.

When I was younger all I ever wanted to be was a backup dancer for Janet Jackson. *sigh* Oh, but to dream…

Another job I’d love to do is something in fashion. Watching the past 12 seasons of Project Runway, I want to go work at a fashion house. I’m enough of a bitch, so I figure I’d be a natural. *lol*

I’d also love to work for a recording artist, like P!nk, or Gaga etc, but work on their world tours in some capacity. Work, travel and all whilst being paid. Easy.

What profession would you not like to do?

Work for a government agency like Centrelink, Housing Commission etc. Generally speaking, I can’t stand people at the best of times, let alone those people. It’s bad enough having to share a building with the Housing Commission here, and all these drug addicts coming into our office (on the ground floor) and mumbling / slurring the words ‘izzthisth’secon’floororsummin’?’

…7 years of that now makes me want to just jump the desk and punch them in the face screaming DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THE SECOND FUCKING FLOOR?!? HUH?!? HOW MANY FLIGHTS OF STAIRS DID YOU WALK UP!?!? Move along, coke whore.

If Heaven exists, what would you like expect to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

I think you’re lost.