is this thing on?

I decided today to post something about anything, because this whole Not Writing AT ALL thing kinda bothers me, especially as I still think in Blog Speak, as in, several times a day I write something rivetting and amazing in my head and then do shit all about it in terms of keystrokes.

so, the decision was made and I went and cleared out a drawer, rearranged the bathroom cabinet, and bla bla bla'd my way through the morning because these other engagements were pressing and urgent and needed doing, just like every other freakin' day I decide to write something. Which, as an aside, is every freakin' day.

My (non existent) literary life is made of Dodge and Weave.

But there IS always something more pressing and urgent to do because, as an example, right now, there's a voice yelling at me from the bathroom (which isnt a euphamism for "bathroom". it IS our bathroom. It also happens to contain the toilet) because he's "FINISHED!", and I need to "COME HERE, MUMMY!", and oh boy, we all know what THAT means.

*waves crash on beaches*

Thing is, there's SO much to tell so where do I start? And can you see what I'm doing here? Telling why I haven't told.

Awesome.

So.

I got a new job last year, and it's perfect. I get to take Daniel to work with me, the boss is AWESOME, my manager is great, there is SO MUCH potential to upskill it's unbelievable, and there's also SO MUCH more work potential available to me once Daniel is in school.

Daniel is enrolled to start school in January next year. It's a private school, and it's just up the road. Deciding factors were: smal class sizes and Italian on the curriculum.

Since enrolling Daniel, and based on the latter deal maker, I'm still wondering why in fuck my parents sent me to a school that taught French. I was fluent by the time I left school. In French. I'm ITALIAN, for christake. Okay, I'm AUSTRALIAN, but my background is Italian, with a shitload of close family members living in Italy. Where they speak ITALIAN. What the fuck were they thinking sending me somewhere that taught only French? Oh, right. My parents were idiots. I keep forgetting about that.

That brief yet intensely bitter interlude brought to you by my face, because I just spent ANOTHER thousand bucks on it, and if they hadn't been idiots their entire life, my face would never have gone through the intense amount of bullshit that seems to be a) never ending, and b) a bottomless put of financial distress. On the upside, that last thousand spondoolies was to put and end to the major youchies in my front tooth that's been there since the first surgery. Seems my dentist is an idiot (my new dentist: "you need to get out of that circle (of orthodontists, surgeons, and dentists) because mistakes have been made, and no one will admit to them, so nothing will ever be done to fix them") and that tooth IS in danger of dying or whatever, because after the surgery and the orthodontics, the ONLY point of contact in my mouth was that one front tooth. It's still loose, but after the major reconstruction work done on Friday, I'm finally free of the intense pain. No shit, some days I wanted to either punch myslf in the face, or throw myself off a cliff. After three years though, I was so used to it that when the new dental receptionist asked me if the appointment was for an emergency, I told her it wasn't, so I got an appointment for, like, a month away. Then I hung up the phone, and went back to holding my tooth cuz it's the only way to stop it hurting SO badly. Then I thought to myself "whah?", and called her straight back and got an appointment the following day.

New dentist rebuilt a lot of my teeth with, fuck, I don't know. Das? and then I resisted the urge to pash him because FINALLY, you knopw? And then my insurance said "no, actually, we're NOT going to pay", and then I cried, and then I handed over my credit card and here we are, me ranting on bitterly about inconsequential stuff when there's so much more interesting stuff to get excited about.

Things like the ChiBall Method.

I just did a seven day intensive course and loved it so much I did a workshop stright away on top of that, and daniel got to spend time with his aunt, and his old daycare centre, and I got to change my frikkin' life because THAT SHIT CHANGES YOU. Semthing to do with shifting energy, which I believe in but others, maybe you, get all "wtf are you talking about fool?" over.
But traditional chinese medicine has been around for a LOT longer than regualr western medicine so there's go to be something in it, and in that seven days I got all crankypants, then I got all sad, then I couldn't stop crying, which was hihgly annoyig and, according to the course presenters, a really frequent thing for students to go through, then I had this dream where I was so desperately sad and full of grief and I was saying to a friend of mine who, in my dream, was all up in my grill saying shit like "you're different, get grip and GET OVER IT.", and I could barely breathe from The Sad and lay on the ground and was all, "I LOST MY BABIES. Don't you GET IT?", when really, I'M the one who's refused to Get it.

I get it now, after all this time. As a related aside, it took me a full year to be able to talk to anyone about it in Real Life. A smattering of bleahs here, and that was it. I see a grief cousellor now, still, and that helps. We talk mostly about Not Babies, so it's not like I feel like I have to sort through Grief and Loss and shit. I guess though, that Grief and Loss and shit colours so much of your (ahem, MY) life, that just talking about anything helps. Which it does, if only because I get to talk about Me for an hour every so often, and I'm fascinating. Ahem.

Anyway, I woke up the next day, kept bursting into tears, and then when I got to my course that morning, cried some more than laughed about it when the presenter asked me how I was.

And then I was okay.

I feel lighter now, and calmer, and my friends tell me I look younger and happier. It's not like now I can talk about dead babies or anything, so let's talk! I don't need to tell anyone how it's affected me, and I think that's because the only peson who needs to know how I feel/felt/whatever, was/is me.

How I teach other classes now has changed dramatically as well, and while that might seem like a weird thing to marry with grief and loss, it kind of isn't.

Uusally, I begin freaking out at least four days before my class is scheduled, write some choreography, change it, change it again, practise it over and over and painstakingly choose the music I'm going to use.

Now I grab my iPod, stick on some music, and wing it when the beats start.

It's such a relief to not feel I'm made of jagged edges anymore, you know?

ChiBall Method has a simpleclass format aimed at movement, not epiphanies and life changing creams, but it WILL have a positive affect on your life. If there's a class in your area, do it. Just once. This is not a paid review bla bla BLA.

And now we DO have a pressingly urgent engagement and we're off to the beach. I apologise for the deep and meanignful shit I didn't mean to include here today, but there it is. My life, as it is now.

I do hope to write here more often, and to tell whoever's still visiting all about how magically awesome life with Daniel is.

Because it is.

Love to you all,

xx