whimsy

Text reads: The comfort zone is so comfortable. Background contains a woman balancing on a fence.

The comfort zone is so comfortable

I don’t watch that much TV but one show I’m really digging at the moment is Star Trek: Lower Decks. In an episode entitled “Where Pleasant Fountains Lie”, there’s a scene in which Rutherford is nervous about an assignment on an alien ship, away from his familiar surroundings.

“You need to get outside your comfort zone,” Tendi tells him.

“But I love my zone!” Rutherford replies.

I am definitely Rutherford, minus the cybernetic implant. Though I probs do have a cybernetic implant now that I’m double-vaxxed, it’s just not visible on my face. 😉

Anyway, Rutherford likes his zone and I like my zone because it’s just so damn comfortable. People say things like, “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.” But… room is good. I like my space.

I like familiarity. I live dangerously by taking afternoon naps (not during work days obviously) and then trying to fall asleep again at a reasonable hour at night. 😛 Having to (ew) market myself and talk about my book is definitely not within my favoured zone.

But I do generally feel good about myself after the fact when I push myself outside my comfort zone.

For instance, I decided to work in libraries even with the full understanding that it was essentially a customer service job (as opposed to a “sit amongst books and shush people” job). And the first few times I had to answer the phone and talk to clients, I was pretty flustered, but now I’m fine with it.

Recently, I did a beginner salsa class and it was actually fun. I probably wouldn’t do it again — I’m not a dancer and I don’t like all that unnecessary touching, haha. But I’m glad I tried it.

And then there’s Black and Blue. I sat on the manuscript for a long time, thinking that if I never published it, it would never have the opportunity to fail. Now it’s about to be unleashed upon the world and some of you are going to hate it, but that’s okay. I’m happy it’s getting out there.

Like Rutherford, I’m trying to forge ahead with the mission. And like Rutherford, (spoiler alert) I have not died.

And yes, I realise there was nothing particularly mind blowing about that snippet of conversation between Rutherford and Tendi, and I could’ve talked about stepping out of my comfort zone without bring it up at all. But I didn’t want to because Lower Decks is awesome. 🙂

Text reads: Letter to my long distance love. Background contains the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge at sunset.

Letter to my long distance love

Dear Sydney,

Why you gotta do me like this?!

As of now, there are virtually no COVID-19 restrictions in Perth again. (Though I’m keeping a clean mask in my bag just in case.) But my heart is heavy because there’s a hard interstate border separating us and I don’t know when it might come down.

I love you, Sydney. Well, I love certain people in you. But you’re pretty cool too. Apart from worshipping the worst football code ever invented. 😉

When I was last with you at the beginning of 2020, COVID-19 certainly existed in the world, yet it seemed so far away from us in Australia. Now it’s you that seems a world away. My last attempt to get back to you was thwarted by a lockdown in Perth. Now it’s you that’s in lockdown. 😦

I look at the daily new case numbers, the images of people who seem to be packing beaches and shops for no apparent reason when they’re supposed to be at home, and I wonder when it’ll all end.

And to be honest, I’m mad because it feels like this could’ve been avoided (or at least closer to being resolved by now) had the state not backed itself into an ideological corner — but I digress.

Mostly I’m just sad and I miss you, my darling Sydney. And I really hope to see you again soon. ❤

Love,

Your mate in the wild west.

P.S. I went a bit nuts topping up my Opal card last time so to cut a long story short, I also really need to get to you and ride some trains or something. 😛

Text reads: 12 months of whatever this is... and counting. Background contains fingers typing on laptop keyboard.

12 months of whatever this is… and counting

I started this blog about a year ago, not really knowing what it was trying to be… and I’m pretty sure I’m still just talking crap most of the time. I don’t follow any of the “rules” of blogging, like maintaining a consistent schedule or focusing on a niche (unless I’m the niche, haha). But I’m enjoying what I’m doing so I’ll continue. Lucky you, dear reader. 😛

We’re also coming to the midway point of the calendar year, so I thought I’d preview/tease the second half.

For the past few years, people have asked me burning questions like, “How’s your writing going?” and “When can I read your book?” and I can now finally say the answer to the latter is…

Well, actually, I don’t have a release date yet. We’re thinking a few weeks before Christmas — I’ll update y’all in due course. I’ve decided to go with independent publishing for reasons I’ll talk about another time, but I’m very comfortable with my decision.

But there’s still a lot to think about. Like marketing. Different formats. Who to thank in the acknowledgements. The idea of talking about myself while suppressing the desire to faint. Getting a new Mental Health Care Plan from my doctor so I can cry to a psychologist about what an imposter I am for thinking I can write and publish a book.

Just kidding. Mostly.

It’s all a bit nerve-racking but also super exciting. Hopefully some of the people who have asked about my book go on to actually buy the book. No one owes me anything, of course. But I would very much appreciate it. 😉

Text reads: Black swan and isolation. Background contains a black swan on water.

Black swans and isolation

I’m a weird person. I love the Star Wars prequels and always have. I was perfectly fine with the name iSnack 2.0 for the spread that was eventually renamed Vegemite Cheesybite due to public backlash. And if I ruled the world, it would be acceptable to wear leggings as pants in any setting.

I also get weirdly territorial about black swans.

Growing up in Perth, the capital of Western Australia, I was taught that black swans are only found in WA. That’s why it’s called the Swan River and why there’s a black swan on our state flag.

So imagine my surprise a few years ago when I went to Adelaide, South Australia and saw black swans out and about, living their best lives on the River Torrens.

I was with two friends who were also from Perth, so we’d all grown up thinking black swans were “ours”. It was… fascinating. And bewildering.

“Did they take our swans? Is this stolen property?”

Then Google told me black swans are native to other parts of Australia too. Our lives have been a lie!

But obviously “our” black swans are the best. Because animals care very deeply about the arbitrary borders that humans create. (Google didn’t tell me that; I did.)

Fast forward to the present day. I’m writing this post from inside the WA state border, which is currently closed (unless you can get an exemption) as a COVID protection measure.

I understand the reasons. Heck, it’s probably why I felt safe enough to leave the house when I had to go back into the office.

But it’s also starting to get me down. I wish I could see family and friends who aren’t in WA and give them a hug.

Well, I suppose I could don a face mask and get on a plane. No one’s actually stopping me from leaving. But I might not be able to get back home to the best black swans. 😉

So I’ll stay in my isolated fortress, writing useless blog posts like this until I can see my people on the outside again.

P.S. Black swans are not our property, nor anyone else’s. Just in case it wasn’t clear that I was being facetious.

P.P.S. I’ve got some masks ready for whenever I can make a trip across the border. Masks have the additional benefit of covering my acne scars so everybody wins. 😀

Text reads: The curse of the hyphenated name. Background contains a young girl frowning while cupping her face in her hand.

The curse of the hyphenated name

Dear Diary,

I had a frustrating experience not too long ago while trying to make an online purchase. When I entered the billing address, I repeatedly got an error message telling me it contained invalid characters.

After several attempts, I finally released what the invalid character was. The pesky hyphen in my name. I deleted the hyphen and was able to successfully proceed to checkout.

But come on, it’s 2020. It’s not like hyphenated names are terribly unusual.

Alas, it’s not the first time my little hyphen has caused some issues.

For starters, there are lots of people who don’t seem to know what you’re referring to when you say “hyphen”.

I’m constantly having to spell my name out. (People with uncommon names or uncommon spellings will probably relate to this.) More than once when I’ve reached the hyphen, I’ve been met with one of two reactions:

  1. a blank or bewildered expression, as if I’ve just coined a new word.
  2. a brief pause, before the person writes an apostrophe instead. (That’s some cool science fiction shiz right there. 😀 )

I usually end up explaining it as a “dash” and drawing a horizontal line in the air with my finger.

Then there are those who see my name written down and can’t figure out how to read it.

I get called Lee a lot, which I don’t mind. Some of my friends call me Lee or L for short. But I’ve also been called Ann and Annie by multiple people, and I hate it. (There’s nothing wrong with those names, they’re just not me.)

I don’t know if other people with hyphenated names or double names experience the same issues I do, or if I just attract confusion. 😛

Anyway, at the top of the post, I melodramatically described this as a curse. But in all seriousness, I like the name my parents gave me. My first world hyphen problems are more of a quirk than anything else.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to educate y’all about the joy of hyphenated names. 😉