Orange and Black

I had a few big plastic tubs of stuff I had kept over the years, things I felt were important, memorabilia stuff and the like.  I decided that I had just a little too much and wanted to try and squeeze my 30-something years down to two tubs.  It was time for a cull.  One thing I stumbled upon was my Balmain Tigers jersey.  The sight of it immediately transported me back to Saturday night and Sunday afternoon games at Leichhardt Oval. 

I am not sure how my interest in the Footy started.  It must have just been a phase, all part of growing up, because I don't care for the sport at all now (although, a large reason why I have no interest now is because I have zero respect for the people that play and represent the game, which is a huge issue in itself).  I was 12, 13 maybe and I needed a team.  My Dad would be out on Saturday afternoons working in the garden or doing other jobs around the house and he always had his radio with him, and I remember from a very young age listening to The Continuous Call Team which he always had on during the Footy season.  I asked Dad what team I should follow.  He told me there was only one team, the Balmain Tigers, it was his team and he had been supporting them since he was a kid.  I suggested that we go to one of their games, the look on Dad's face was priceless.

Anyone familiar with parking in the Inner West of Sydney would know it was a nightmare.  And you needed to park in the back streets far away and join in the growing crowd of people making their way to the Oval.  Not us though, because Dad had a plan.  There was a mental hospital only a very short distance from the Oval and Dad would go there and tell them we were visiting a patient, they always let us in even though as time went by, I would be dressed up in all my orange and black gear.  We always got a park and only ever had a 5 minute walk to the Oval.  We sat on the Hill.  Back then the 'old school' grounds would have one side of the field without any official seating, but you would pay to sit on the Hill.  We brought a picnic blanket and sat on that to watch the games.  At the back of the Hill they set up a large TV screen, it was the very early days of the video ref and when that was called everyone on the Hill turned around to look at the screen and watch the instant replay.  If the call didn't go our way coipesous amounts of empty beer cans would be thrown at the screen.  How times have changed.

At Half Time, Dad would wander off to grab a beer along with most other people.  Everyone on the Hill would stand for a stretch and a chat, kids would run around and the cheerleaders would come out to perform.  I was a confused teenager trying to be a feminist and would yell out things to the cheerleaders.  Things like, other career options they could have taken instead of become sex objects for men.  Like I said, it was the awkward phase of my life where I thought I knew everything and really knew nothing at all.  Fortunately for me at half time, everyone around me had already had a few and found it highly amusing.  Although thinking about this now, I can't help but still cringe just a little bit.

If it was a big win or loss we left early to avoid the crowds, but if it was a close one we stayed until the end.  We were going a fair bit and I thought I should buy a jersey to really show my support.  I scrimped and saved for it and the first game of the first season the following year, I purchased it.  They only had one in my size and it was last years so he gave me a discount.  I was so happy.  Dad and I continued going to several games throughout the year, but the game was in trouble, it split in two and became a complete mess and in the end the Balmain Tigers ceased to exist, merging with the enemy, Wests Magpies.  That was it for me, I was done, I couldn't support the team anymore, because in my mind, it didn't exist.  Even the physical location of the game was moved with only a couple of matches to be play at Leichhardt.  I folded up my jersey and stashed it away, the football phase was over.

I am thankful I kept the jersey, I have it hanging up in the wardrobe of the spare room.  Not too sure what I will do with it, but perhaps one day when I have children of my own, I will wear it underneath a jacket on a cold wintery Saturday as we head off to a football game, creating new memories.

Occupation: Fashion Designer

What do you want to be when you grow up?  As a side note I have only just found the answer to that and I am in my early 30’s.  Lately I have been thinking about all the things I thought I wanted to be when I was growing up.  I never seemed to want the stock standard things everyone else wanted.  The girls all wanted to be teachers, nurses and mums but not me.  I had other plans. 

In Year 7 I was determined that I was going to be a fashion designer.  Of course I had no interest in fashion or clothes and spent all my time outside of school in jeans and t-shirts,  but in my mind, I wanted to be a fashion designer.  I vividly remember during a Religious class sketching away my collection.  I cannot draw, but with a purple pen and my yellow pad (does anyone else who went to high school in the 90’s remember the coloured writing pad craze?) I drew a singlet, shirt, skirt, dress and pants all with some silly flower design on it (again, hello 90’s).  The teacher busted me.  He asked me to put the pen down, came over and held up the pad.  I don’t remember what he said, but I remember he showed the entire class and they all laughed at me.  For the rest of the week I was picked on for wanting to be fashion designer.  

I wasn’t de-railed.  In Year 8 when we could chose our electives I choose Textiles and Design.  I wanted to be the best in the whole grade.  While I did well in the theory of it, the actually design part, not so great.  Sure I showed great skill in sewing, sewing is quite analytical and I am good at things like that.  But I also showed a total lack of imagination and zero creative design.  I stuck with the basics and what was safe.  My Year 8 work was a simple red skirt.  Year 9 was a tracksuit; black pants, plain red top.  Year 10 was an Asian inspired dress, again it was the 90’s, it was also the same pattern at least 10 other girls had chosen. 

The second half of Year 10 was when my creative talent really emerged.  We were all given a white shirt to design and show case just how talented we were.  I tie-dyed mine emerald green and using the fancy sewing machine with built-in patterns, covered the whole thing in metallic green embroidered leaves (perhaps this was an early indication of my inner hippy).  I had no idea what I was thinking.  I thought I was talented and creative but it looked like something poorly made out of Nimbin.  It was crap.  And it was then that I looked around at all the wonderfully designed shirts from other students, and then at my horrible green and white mess that wouldn’t even make it on a worst dressed list, and then I realised I shouldn’t continue on with my Textiles and Design course.  Fashion designer I just wasn’t meant to be.

I can laugh at all this now.  I still enjoying sewing when I have the time, but I like to stick with the basics and keep it simple.  Just make classics and leave it at that.  I could never have been a fashion designer, I think to be one requires the opposite personality to what I have.  I am very creative, but not visually, and after 3 solid years I still couldn’t draw the silhouette of the female form on which to sketch my “designs”.  Fortunately I learnt this lesson early on and didn’t bother pursuing it any further after Year 10, and I am sure my teachers equally breathed a sign of relief with that knowledge.

Solitude

I am an introvert.  I used to be bothered by this at lot (which I will save for a later time) but then I came to embrace it.  Hubby is also an introvert.  After big family gatherings we just go home and sit on the couch and put the TV on.  We don't really watch it, but rather escape into our own little worlds.  I love that Hubby is an introvert just like me but, as much as I love him, I still need some time just to myself.  Time in pure solitude.  Of course this is difficult to do, it isn't easy to ask for some solitude. 

Hubby loves to sleep in.  That is his thing, his reward for a long week at work is to sleep in on weekends, as late as he can, or as late as I will let him.  He even enhances the experience by staying up really late on Friday and Saturday nights watching man shows or man movies (you know, guns, blood, lots of heavy vehicles at high speed) just so he can get enjoy an extended sleep in.  On these nights when Hubby sets himself up for the night after a cocktail or two I go to bed early.  Mainly because after a long week at work I am done and exhausted, but also so I can spend some time in the bedroom alone, listening to my music and lying in the middle of the bed with my arms and legs spread out and my head nestled between both pillows.  It is my second perfect time of solitude escaping into my thoughts and dreams and slowly dozing off to sleep.  

On Saturday and Sunday mornings I wake with the sun, refreshed and revitalized and with another few hours of solitude.  My baby Raz is a morning dog, (his brother, much like his father, prefers the sleep in) and he always gets up with me.  Each weekend is the same, into the kitchen to turn the coffee machine on to warm up, then wrap up in a trackie, hoodie and ugg boots and then make the coffee.  With my steaming caffeine hit, I sit in the lounge with Raz on my lap reading a book.  I can sit like that for hours if I have the time.  It is my ideal way to spend the weekend; so quiet and peaceful and I look out into our garden and beyond with the windows open and the crisp air lightly blowing through, the whole neighbourhood is quiet and I sink a little deeper into the armchair feeling very contented with myself and life in general.

These moments of solitude have come to be the highlights of my week, the time I most look forward to, because in these moments I recharge myself with the energy to see me through the week full of clients and colleagues and the weekend full of family and friends.  My perfect moments of solitude clear my head, set my mood and allow me to venture forth creating beautiful memories for the week ahead.

Where Is The Serenity?

Today I returned to work after a blissful 2.5 weeks off.  Hubby and I had a wonderful time, we took a trip down South and explored some beautiful countryside and powdery soft sand beaches and also spent some time at home, pottering about inside and out slowly working through our list and making our house feel as homely as possible.  I was in a fantastic frame of mind.  As relaxed as I had been all year and looking at everything with rose coloured glasses.  The days were long and pleasant and everything we did was done in a casual, leisurely pace.  Then last night I had to face the reality, that this state of nirvana was about to be over.  That was not a conscious thought but it must have existed on some level as I spent the night tossing and turning and not sleeping.  When I finally gave into my alarm I felt more tired than when I had gone to bed last night.

But I was determined.  I was going to ensure that my more positive outlook on life would flow through into work and that I would be positive and have a good day.  It was painful, I had 2.5 weeks worth of work, un-neatly piled up on my desk and the girls were only too keen to share with me the gossip I had missed out on.  As the day wore on and the piles became smaller and I found my groove again, I was starting to believe that this could work.  I could incorporate my holiday vibe into my work environment.  However as 5pm loomed the real office talk began, the complaining and whining and I politely nodded and smiled as I listened.  I wondered, was I that negative before my holiday?  I think I know the answer to that, and I'm not happy about it.  I did the only thing I could do.  I walked away.  I was not going to get caught up in all that rubbish again.

Holidays are a wonderful thing.  Of course there are just never enough of them.  In my happy, anxious free time, I gained a lot of clarity about things on my mind.  Answers to questions pondered became crystal clear.  So much so I felt like the answer was always there right in front of me, I just failed to see.  I finally worked out the direction for my life for the next few years, and I like it, I am excited by it and the more I picture it, the more I want it.  Everything seems to have fallen into place and I have a sense of where I want to go and how to get there.  My current job is not in that picture but that is ok.  It serves a purpose for now and when I think about my new goals it puts my job in perspective.  Just that, a job, an income, a place to earn money for now.  And with that in mind I can walk away from the negativity in the office.  I don't need it, and it serves no purpose.  I can go to work, do what I need to do and with a little bit of effort and mindfulness, stay in my serenity state of mind, hopefully until the next holiday.