I Remember...

I remember when Postman Pat had no wife or child.  I remember being allowed an ice cream every day after school, and nobody worrying that it would make me fat.  I remember petrol being 80c/L.  I remember the Gateway Bridge toll being $2.  I remember a $2 toll being considered a rip-off.  I remember Paddle Pop and Billabong ice creams being 75c each.  I remember Magnum ice creams being really expensive at $2.50.  I remember "A Country Practice" the first time it was on, and I remember the first time my Daddy was at work for Christmas.
My family had always head a family Christmas party when I was little, Christmas was a big deal on both sides.  My Nana had come over from England as a litttle girl in 1925, and was still cooking a traditional hot Christmas dinner in 1991, til my mum (her daughter-in-law) explained to her, very gently, the insanity of her plan.  My Mum would always organise a Christmas lunch for whomever was available to come from both sides of the family (mostly my dad's family, because my mother's family in the local area was just her brothers and one of them had a wife.  Their parents had died before I was born).  My Nana would do Christmas dinner, mainly for her children and their sposes and her grand-children, but sometimes a spouse's brother or sister would be there, and Nana liked a big gathering, because it made her feel needed and gave her something to complain about.
In 1996, my Dad started work on an oil rig out in the desert.  He was working as the campie (camp attendant) which means he was essentially the "house keeper" for the camp where the drillers live.  Dad started work on the rig in August.  I was told he'd be away for three weeks, but then come home.  I presumed that after he went away for three weeks, he'd be home for good.  Imagine how I felt when, only one week later, he went away for another three weeks!? Christmas 1996 was my first Christmas without Daddy.  I was nine years old.  My Nana had stopped having her Christmas party about two years before, sighting "oldness", but Mum still had hers, even without Dad there.  I was excited that the party would go ahead, and extra excited because Mum said we would have a second Christmas with Dad when he came home.  It would have been OK, but at the "real" Christmas party, well-meaning friends and relations kept trying to comfort me.  My Aunty was the worst, my father's sister, whose husband had gotten Daddy the job in the first place.  Her husband was rostered off for Christmas, so I didn't want any comfort from her!
The next year Dad was working Christmas too, but Mum didn't have the Christmas party.  She told all the family they were welcome to come to our Christmas party when Dad got home, but none of them did.  I had my Christmas breakfast that year on December the 25th, and I opened half my presents, but Mum left all of hers for when Dad got home.
When I was fourteen years old, they started shutting down the rig at Chritstmas Time.  My Dad was home!  We'd moved from the Gold Coast to Maryborough by this time, so we had no family for a Christmas party, even if they chose to come along for the first time in five years.  I'd stopped caring about Christmas, and started being embarressed about how many presents I got each year.  Just.  Too.  Many.  Especially since I knew that, even with the rig job, my parents could not afford what they gave me.
It was nice to have Dad home for Christmas.
So now fast forward to the present day.  I've wanted nothing more than to move back to the Gold Coast since about a year after I left it.  This year, I make it back.  After some mental tossing and turning, a lot of re-shuffling and ridding myself of 80kg of ugly fat in just one day (for those of you who are slow, I dumped my boyfriend) I ended up living with my Uncle.  You can read about him if you search for the tag "potato".  It's actually not too bad, there.  So, anyway, my mother's other brother has kinda been kicked out by his current whatever-she-is, not because of anything he's done, but simply because she's crazy.  It's kind of OK, because he was going to come to Maryborough for Christmas with his sister, anyway.  He now lives in a tent in our yard until further notice.  I came up to Maryborough by train, and even though they've stopped closing the rigs for Christmas (because they are miserable arseholes) my Daddy came home a little after me. My uncle on the Gold Coast won't take the train, so got his brother to drive down and get him, all for the low, low price of double-the-cost-of-the-train.  We were together.  Not my whole family, but my immediate family and my mother's brothers, currently both wife-less.  Family Christmas was beautiful.  I'm going home in January, my uncle is already home, having again gotten his brother to drive him.  Dad's rostered off for a break, so I think I go home before he goes back to work.
A lot of shit went down this Christmas, and a lot of shit hit the fan, but over-all, this was the best Christmas I can remember.

Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.

I live with my uncle now.

It may not be a creative title, but it's the truth. No, you freaks! Not that sort of uncle! My actual uncle; my mother's brother. It's... interesting. At least there is no secret meat. I'm not on the Gold Coast at the moment, anyway, I'm in Maryborough, visiting my Mum and that guy she's married to. Ok, he's my Dad. I have an interesting relationship with my father. I don't dislike him, but sometimes it's like trying to be friends with a potato. A really stupid potato that moves my stuff without asking, and then forgets where he put it.
My Uncle is exactly the same, but the opposite... He keeps the box to absolutely every appliance he buys so he can put everything in its own original box if he moves house or if the Secret Toaster Police come around or some such thing. I dunno. I took one look at the pile of boxes and I quit. I just plain quit. The boxes may not be flattened. They are all box-shaped, full of air and in my way. Don't touch the empty boxes, whatever you do! Also, don't touch the garden! The land lord weeds the garden twice a year. That's right, two times every year, so there's no need for you to weed the garden! Never mind that you go outside completely devoid of vegetation upon your person and end up a vector for about seven kinds of seeds, you don't need to pull the weeds up, the land lord will do it in three month's time!
"Did you wash my mug?" My uncle asked me the other day. "Yes." I said, "I wanted to know what colour it was." Honest to God, that mug had not been washed in over TEN YEARS! I bleached it. I plan to bleach it once-per-month.
I like, love, the area where I'm living now, though. I walk across the highway and then down a few metres and I'm at one of the most beautiful wave beaches in the world. Stunning! And, of course, owing to my dream to one day live in the ocean, I do so love that location! I seem to be in a very '!' mood tonight. It may be because it's just after 3AM? We may never know the truth, but be sure the truth is out there... wait, I don't have to pay copyright to use that line, do I!?
I'm also near a great shopping centre with everything, including a place that sells kitchen sinks.
But for now I'm in Maryborough. It's Christmas time, and so I will be with my family. For the first time in about 14 years, my mother and both of her brothers will have Christmas together. My Dad is home from work (he works on an oil rig in the desert) and I've come up from the Gold Coast, so we will be having a family Christmas! My Mum's brother (the one I don't live with, not in any way potato like) in camped in my parent's back yard in his tent. He's been here for about a week already. Tonight he drove down to the Gold Coast, and on Monday night he will return with his brother. That's the other thing about my uncle. He doesn't drive, (well, neither do I), but he won't take the train like a normal person, even though the train is less than half the cost of his brother making a round-trip to drive him... POTATO MAN!
I'm gonna go put stuff on ebay now, then I'm going to bed, coz the sun'll be up real soon!

Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.

I'm leaving Southport

Despite what I've said about Southport in the past, I will miss a few things.

1. The parks. Partially because they are beautiful, partially because all the play equipment is strong enough to hold me.
2. The pigeons who come into my backyard every day. The same two pigeons, doing adorable pigeony things.
3. The dog. He belongs to the family I'm living with. I call him "Doggie" even though that's not his name.
4. Five-year-old, even though she climbs into bed with me and wakes me up at 6AM if I leave my cubby unlocked
5. Baby, who is beautiful and wonderful, even when she's going on a biting rampage. I think I will miss her the most.

I'll also miss the international computer webby thing. I'm going to live with my uncle who doesn't even have a CD player. I'll still be on the Gold Coast, and in a much nicer part. Hope I can tell you all about it soon!

Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.

Not sure if I'm lonely, or just alone.

But I am in love with a T-shirt. A particular design of "Guns 'n' Roses" band tee, to be more specific. Every time I'm over at the shopping centre I go in the shop where I know (or hope!) I'll find it. I move all the 'smalls' to the back of the rack and stare longingly. If someone wants to lend me $10 so my true love and I can finally be together, much appreciated...
I go visit my love, the T-shirt, about twice per week. Whenever I have some spare change and a coupon, I take myself out for a treat. I'm a good date, I buy me all kinds of things. I buy me hot chocolate, waffles, pancakes or pretty much anything else within the limited budget. I've gotten used to sitting by myself in the food court now. I don't believe I'm actually going to admit this in a public forum, but I don't have any friends my own age in the same city as me. Talking isn't my strong point, and note passing isn't really an accepted form of communication after high school. I spend this time by myself doing a spot of people watching, and catching up on important activities like text-stalking my mates from all over, and fantasising about the day I finally have $10 spare, and can be united with my truest love, the T-shirt.

Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.

My Rules To Live By

Previously I've only shared these rules with people closest to me. But that's not enough, because so many people seem to really need them. So here they are. Rules to live by as thought up by the Pretty Kitty when she was between the ages of 12 and 22:

1. Don't spend money that doesn't need to be spent
   In other words, if you're already scratching to get by, don't buy things just for the sake of having them. I still don't have an iPod and I'm doing fine. I can't, however live without music, so when my Walkman finally died about a month ago, I went straight down to Kmart and bought a CD/cassette player. This is money that did need to be spent, to stop the Kitty climbing the walls.
2. Don't send things to landfill which don't need to go
   This is actually my favourite. I made this rule while watching my housemates clean out their wardrobes. With other people in the house who would have loved the almost new things they were throwing away and two op shops within an easy walk of the house, they were just throwing their 'old' things in the bin, purely because they had new things. I found this absolutely appalling, and took it upon myself to remove as many things as possible from the rubbish as quickly as possible, the things I didn't want then found their way to the op shop. The other thing that people seem really bad at is recycling. If you don't recycle, don't complain when the world runs out of EVERYTHING! Also, you may think you're recycling simply by putting things in your recycling bin, but here's why you're not: Food is not recyclable. If you throw things in you recycling bin without washing them out first, they will still end up in landfill. The people at the recycling plant are not there to wash out your milk cartons, bottles and jars. Clean, recyclable materials are sorted and recycled. Containers that still have bits of food in them are allowed to slip right past and go into the rubbish. Also, if you put your recycling into plastic bags before you put it in your recycling bin, it goes to landfill. Recycling is sorted on a conveyor belt. They do not have the time to undo you stupid knots or empty plastic bags.
   So basically, if you can think of another use for something, employ it. Cracked plastic box could be covered, strengthened with cardboard and used for a foot stool, for example.
3. Don't judge what you don't know.
   What you think is rudeness may simply be shyness, what you call stupidity may just be ignorance. You don't know anybody's background unless they tell you. A girl wearing a short skirt is probably just feeling the heat, today; that quiet old gent at the bus stop can probably teach you a few things, if you don't dismiss him as just another old man.
4. Every situation is meant to teach you something.
   In other words, The slow elderly lady in the queue in front of you, the one who feels the need to tell the cashier her life story, is meant to teach you patience. Your teenage daughter turning up with a boyfriend from a background you never realised you didn't approve of is meant to teach you acceptance. Try to find the lesson in every situation.
5. Never break a promise
   This is a simple one. If you say you're going to call, call. If you say you're going to be somewhere, be somewhere. It's ok to just plain forget, so long as you make it up later.
6. Don't ever have too many rules.
   There are more, but revealing them all at once may cancel out rule #6...

Signed with love,

The Pretty Kitty.

I think I only need to blog when I'm sad.

I'm not sad today, but I was hoping you missed me. I've gone from crying in general to only crying when I think of something worth crying about. I've been happy most of the time, and I've even been smiling. My face feels all funny and odd-like. I suppose it's hard to explain unless you feel it, smiling so much after so long, but I suppose everyone has felt it at some point.

Yesterday I got enough food for almost two weeks for myself from the wonderful feople at Food Aid. This cost me $7, and included cake. It has been a while since I've had more than one kind of cake or other sweet baked good in my home and for my consumption. It's just a good feeling in general.



I'm still not sure what's happening with my life, but I'm rolling with it. I know it's all good. I am a child of the Universe, blah blah etc.

"If you enter this world knowing you are
loved, and you leave this world knowing the same, Then everything that
happens in between can be dealt with." - Michael Jackson.

I'm steeling that quote and claiming it as Wisdom of the Pretty Kitty. Maybe shouldn't have left his name on it, then...



I will try to remember to write to you, even when I'm not sad,

Signed with love,

The Pretty Kitty.

Letter to a very good friend

I'm sharing this letter here because I feel it will help people other than me and the addressee. If you have friends you feel could benefit from this, please refer them to it. If you have no friends, I'll be your friend and you can refer it to me if you want, but I have already seen it...

I'm going to say: To my Sweetheart,
because, under all the layers of asshole, you do have a sweet heart. So you may no longer be my sweetheart in the cute, 1950s "going steady" way, but my point still stands.

I miss you.

You know, since you went away, before we broke up, I've just wanted a kiss so bad. Just a kiss. I was telling myself, "Just a week or so. He'll be home. You'll get your kiss." But then disaster. You're stubborn and arrogant, I'm stubborn and have an absolutely flaming temper. With this combination, we're broken up, yet again, but this time for good. So I'm sitting here wondering if I'll ever be kissed again, you know I don't want to kiss someone I don't love.

Tempers cool. I stop swearing at you in every text message and every phone call, and you stop calling me names (most of which aren't even applicable, I don't do that!). You ask if you can be my friend, and I'm so glad you asked because it means I don't have to (it would have been embarrassing for me, after I told you to get the f'k out of my life... Sorry about that). That's what I wanted when I first met you, your friendship, with the future possibility of kisses.
You ask if you can call, and I say yes. You're so supportive and sweet. You build me up instead of tearing me down. You offer advice when I feel lost. Every time I talk to you, you're seeming more and more like the wonderful man I fell in love with. Good one, you giant retarded butt-monkey!!!!!

That message I sent you last night, please disregard. I was listening to stupid soppy love songs at the time, and they made me remember I miss you. I tried to fix it by listening to the "Dirty Dancing" soundtrack, but that just reminded me that people die, which made things worse. Sorry. I know we probably could get back together, and it would be beautiful for a while. We'd smile and laugh and love each other, we'd say and do nice and beautiful things, but one day I'd irritate you and you'd be a bastard and I'd end up ripping your lungs out and feeding them to my cat.

I think we both know I'll probably end up with a girl one day, anyway. Even you must have noticed by now, boys SUCK!

I can't write anymore for two reasons: 1) The tears in my eyes are making it hard to see and 2) I'm writing with a permanent marker, and the fumes are starting to make me dizzy.

I want to sign this "Love from your Blossom", but I can't.
I will say
Signed with love, in some way, for always,
The Pretty Kitty.

PS- I found my sewing kit and I'm still willing to sew up those pants for you. I can't find them. If you threw them out, you're a wanker, they were just torn, not ruined. If you didn't, disregard.