~POST SAMUI BLUES~

Sawadee kup! ('Hello' in Thai)

Firstly, if you're hoping for an update on what happened on the actual holiday in Koh Samui, that story is a work in progress... Many a tale there though - suffice to say it was an AMAZING holiday with an interesting ending (but no, I did not come back married). That however is not the subject of this post.



Lawana Resort, Bo Phut Beach Koh Samui



So - after years of not actually going on a holiday, I've very successfully forgotten the absolute crap that is the post holiday come-down. The flight home was bad enough, then dealing with jet-lag (which despite only being a few hours time difference manages to really stuff with someone who suffers from insomnia anyway), the return to work (I managed to sleep through and miss my first day), the reality of having to actually cook and clean again, instead of paying a pittance to have someone do it for you, and the weird sort of grief you get from suddenly being separated from your travelling companion, with whom you have spent good, bad, and ugly moments with 24 hours a day.

These are just a few of the things I have discovered on return...

1: Thai Valium helped me actually get some sleep on the plane.

2: Apparently I look suspicious in my ridiculous aeroplane get up (layers of light Thai appropriate clothes so I wouldn't freeze on arrival in Sydney winter) -  because I got picked out both to have my passport checked and also my baggage searched.

3: When I left the airport, expecting to freeze to death in Sydney winter, the cold outside just reminded me of the many over-air conditioned places in Koh Samui.

4: The ridiculously expensive cab I caught home smelt like the drains in Koh Samui.

5: Getting home to my chaotic room, which had been left in disarray as I had to change my flight at the last minute and had an hour and a half to pack and leave for the airport was bad enough. Knowing I still had to unpack the mess of my suitcase was even worse.

6. It is VERY easy to avoid the mess and live in a room that looks like a hurricane has hit it for the week post holiday.

7: I look extremely brown compared to everyone else in my office, this is only note-worthy because I am normally the palest person in the world. The fact that I had tanned so much wasn't noticeable at all while away next to the extremely dark Europeans and the local Thai people - . I'm enjoying this moment.

7: My new purple Thai 'Dr Dre' headphones sound awesome. I probably look like a try-hard douche

walking around in them but I don't care cos you hear so much more detail in the music.

8: I'm finding it hard to get used to the traffic back in Australia... it makes so much sense and yet I'm expecting the chaos of Koh Samui roads where there are no rules at all.

9: I miss the dogs being EVERYWHERE - somehow the dogs in Koh Samui mostly have no owners, but most look quite healthy, extremely happy and actually understand how to wait at the side of the road for the INSANE traffic. How that works I have no idea.

10: Only after a week of sleeping obscure hours am I starting to feel SLIGHTLY normal again.

11: I really miss my travel buddy...

So, after a week of struggling through, life is gradually getting back to get back to normality. In theory I should have another holiday to look forward to very soon as I'm booked in to go to Vietnam with 11 in August, but at the moment it's looking like that's being put on hold, all part of the holiday saga that is yet to be revealed.

For now however I'm back at work and can finally empathise with the rest of the holiday-makers out there struggling to deal with post holiday blues.

Happy Monday!

Tash

Ironic Procrastination

I always find it bizarre how doing something you love can become a tedious task the moment you place a deadline or specific requirement on it. I know I'm not alone in this either, I've spoken to many a graphic designer/writer/actor/artist/student/musician (etc etc etc) who has the same problem and is equally perplexed by this weird phenomenon. I'm going to call it Ironic  Procrastination.   

Somehow, if you really really NEED to do that thing you love - take practicing guitar for example - even if you are absolutely passionate about playing that guitar, suddenly almost everything other than your rehearsal needs to be done IMMEDIATELY. The most ironic part is your procrastination activities are highly likely to include things you usually avoid and don't like doing - often things of the cleaning variety. You spot a line of grime under the fridge you had never noticed before and absolutely must clean it straight away. That spring clean you were planning including dusting and wiping EVERY surface in your humble abode just can't go another minute without being done, twice even. That basket of ironing, including clothes you may well never wear again can't wait another second and that pair of boots you need to re-polish are just beckoning for attention. Now I really can't stand cleaning but it always seems so critical when I have something else to do that actually is urgent.

Why do you think this is? Fear of actually achieving something? Concern that once you finalise that masterpiece you'll realise it's actually crap? A phobia of running out of things to do? Or some weird reverse form of laziness? I have no idea and have never been able to explain how this strange psychological block works.

Ironic Procrastination does however come into how Yesterday's Pistacchio was conceived. My first attempt (Bring on the Minja) -  was born out of boredom and procrastination, written entirely for the entertainment of the strapping Englishman mentioned in the blog. He requested a sequel and I ended up churning out a few articles when I was meant  to be doing a long list of something or other else. My biggest fans (Mum & Dad) who love everything I do (because parents have to) decided my work was brilliant and should be published... so to appease them I started up Yesterday's Pistacchio. On that topic, if you're curious about the name, Yesterday's Pistacchio was the love child of a bottle of red wine. Whilst setting up the page, giggling away, red wine in hand, my housemate told me if I was going to have a blog I had to have regular days and times I posted. I'm telling you right now that is NOT going to happen. For the reasons mentioned above. As soon as I give myself a deadline it won't happen and instead my flat will be clean but nothing else will get done and Yesterday's Pistacchio will die a quick but painless death.

So if you happen to be a devoted reader who is not related to me - thanks for checking in and feel free to leave comments or requests on topics... just don't expect a regular time for me to post!  AND if you happen to have any particular insights into why Ironic Procrastination occurs or for that matter a magical cure for it please let me know!

Ciao,

Tash

THE EBB & FLOW OF MOODY HAPPINESS

Do you ever find yourself going through phases of unexplained blissful happiness and equally unexplained cranky misery? I sometimes wonder how many people allow a small road bump in life to change the pattern of their moods and subsequent actions and relationships. Take this morning for example. As I walked in to work, up the stairs, I heard a massive explosive shatter, and (naturally) immediately followed the sound to see what it was. I see one of my fellow colleagues, a blue haired, heavily tattooed guy who dresses like a rock star walking casually toward me, behind him a massive pile of shattered glass where the front door had once been. He simply says "It wasn't me" and keeps walking up the stairs. While it genuinely wasn't his fault, it was quite amusing that of all people to happen to it was him. It looked highly theatrical as he walked out of the mess, as though he was an evil villain in a thriller film who had through brute force just walked through the door. Personally I found the whole thing hilarious and a rather exciting and entertaining start to the week.

But I digress. The point being this one event, first thing on a working week could potentially put a whole office full of workers into a foul mood if they let the little things get to them. Whether because they had responsibility for fixing the now absent door, or had to listen to the screaming chainsaw and  loud hammering as the workers created a temporary solution to the gaping hole the door had filled, or even just because of the nuisance of always having to use the rear exit to the building. (As I typed this one of my colleagues got up and closed a door to shut out some of the worker's noise saying "I just can't deal with this today"). Sometimes we all just let life get the better of us.

So I'm suggesting starting something new. I'm calling it 'Moody Happiness'. Where rather than letting some random shitty occurrence put you in a BAD mood and change the pattern of your day, you forget that crap and instead allow the little random funny/happy/nice occurrences put you in a GOOD and make you 'happy moody'. In other words, let the nice stuff infuse your life with joy and let the shitty stuff waft off into the distance like an unpleasant fart.

Examples of things that make me moody happy are: Dogs chasing things. Man that makes me laugh. The incredibly happy, free and hilarious look of a dog chasing a stick/frisbee/ball, their tail. Or for that matter proudly carrying their chased item along after fetching it. Another is my morning coffee from the lovely people at The Book Kitchen each day before work - they make me laugh, provide some much needed caffeine and always put a smile on my face before I have to face the office. Even the basic things like the smell of flowers floating through the air as you walk along, a smile from a stranger or seeing some unlucky soul tread in dog poo and knowing you don't have to deal with it. Whatever silly, nice, funny, attractive (or unattractive) thing that can make you smile, I say can also make you 'moody happy'.

If however you are in an absolutely foul mood you just can't escape - you might find solace in a small bout of Tourettes - have you ever tried that?  My housemate and I invented it. If you're in a bad mood, we've found that swearing, yelling, and generally carrying about loudly for a couple of minutes can be extremely therapeutic and cathartic. Keep in mind though it is preferable to do so in an enclosed area so that people don't think you've suddenly genuinely flipped your lid and turned into a full box of crackers.

All of that being said, obviously sometimes life does deal some genuine blows that justifiably dampen the mood. Since I started writing this earlier I discovered the door closer who couldn't deal with the noise had some extremely tragic news yesterday -  so fair enough that the painful screaming of a chainsaw was a bit much. For the rest of the time though, there's always something around to help make you moody happy, even if you want to join in some toilet humour and have a giggle at somebody farting inappropriately. Cos face it. Farts are always funny.

The remains of what was once the front door...

Happy Monday.

Tash

HIPSTER vs HOMELESS FASHION

Is it just me or are the lines between an outfit that people consider to be 'hipster' or 'fashionable', and the clothes you see the local vagrants ambling along in becoming increasingly similar?

Lately, wandering around Surry Hills I have seen an alarming number of previously fashionable young artists and creative types walking around in clothes that look like they might have dragged them out of an old suitcase (belonging to an overweight old man) and thrown them on at random, regardless of how ill-fitting or how inappropriately matched they are. Baggy old trackies tucked into combat boots with an old faded grandpa sweater, a beanie and where's wally glasses was an example I saw a young actor in yesterday, token cigarette in hand. Funnily, this trend toward baggy, shapeless, over-sized grandpa clothes is not restricted to the men. You'll also see young women traipsing about in clothes that look like they may well have been stolen from a much larger boyfriend. While this is a possibility, they are just as likely to be prized finds from an op shop, or expensive purchases from a local in trend designer. An interesting thing to note with the young waifs wearing over-sized grandpa shirts is that some of them do manage to make it work, looking attractive and effortlessly chic. Problem being those who DON'T make the look work seemingly have no idea they instead look like they are dressed to paint a house.

I also especially love the influx of saggy bottom pants on the young women - loose fitting trousers where the rear is baggy and sags down to the knees, creating a look that resembles an adult who 1: is wearing a nappy and 2: has pooed their pants. These unappealing, unflattering pants are making their way through Sydney on many a mislead hipster - but don't worry these young hipsters are too cool to care that they look ridiculous. 

Another favourite of mine of late is another take on the saggy bottom... this time, young hipster males in the well known skinny-leg jean, waist at normal height but with the crotch sitting dangerously close to the knees. This strange take on fashion really makes me wonder how they manage to walk with their knees held tightly together - every time I see someone in these pants I feel a deep desire to run up and give them a sharp shove from behind just to see if they manage to remain upright.

In the meantime many more styles from grandpas closet seem to be making a resurgence including the lovely brown colour palette, the ever sexy contrasting elbow patches and the re-introduction of corduroy. While I'm not immune to all new fashions, for now I just hope I manage to maintain that little piece of the brain that differentiates between what is flattering and just plain foolish.

Bring on the Minja!

Last week en route to see The Avengers with a strapping Englishman, I entered the Sydney Entertainment Quarter and was stunned by the spectacle of thousands of teens buzzing with excitement and lining up for an as yet unknown event.

The outfits were weird and wonderful, the wigs pink and plentiful, the excitement visceral and the line length utterly abominable. My date and I, feeling prehistoric amongst the tween set, asked one of many scrutinising security guards what the underage hoards were waiting for to be told it was all for 'Nicki Minja or something'. Ahhh the Minge.  

Better known as Nicki Minaj, the star in question is a curvy, saucily dressed, pink tressed, African American Hip Hop Rapper, who has developed a varied following from pint-sized toddlers to the tween set who were now buzzing about waiting to hear the rap queen perform.

Now if you somehow missed the YouTube phenomenon late last year, google Sophia Grace sings Nicki Minaj and you'll be faced with an 8 year old girl and her 5 year old sister, dancing and rapping raunchily like the pink-haired star (or just check out the link here) . This clip caused an influx of media attention for both the singer and her smallest mimics all over the world including on the Ellen Degeneres show, no doubt multiplying Minaj's fan base  - especially  among any young mums who found the tiny rapping girls endearing.

Meanwhile, as my Englishman and I  wandered toward the cinema, past the excited fans I couldn't help feeling a tad jealous that I was off to see the superheroes save the planet, instead of attending the performance of this scantily clad superstar - even if just for some spectacular people watching amongst the colourful crowd. 

**POST SCRIPT**

Having seen the  film the Avengers firstly I want to recommend it as some A-Grade fluffy, action-filled, hilarious entertainment - best enjoyed with steaming hot potato wedges smuggled in from a local bar - complete with sour cream and hot chilli sauce of course - and for those who feel they missed out on a real review of Minaj's performance check out the review from themusic.com.au - Having read it I don't feel I missed anything. Ciao for now!