chatting, life

Blogtober Over

Wow. I have actually done this Blogtober thing. I have posted every day for a month. Not including this lil’ puppy you’re reading right now, I’ve written and published over 30k words, thirty THOUSAND, while also working and seeing friends and going on dates and reading books. Like I talked about in the Big Magic blog, sometimes you just need to get out of your own way and do the thing. I did that! I am really proud of myself, and today I am going to have a little minute of purely enjoying that feeling without sassing myself.

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My bitmoji is pretty sassy anyway.

I re-read Blogtober yesterday in preparation to write this one. I’d said in the first entry that I had to let the water run for a bit before it was drinkable, which I think ended up being a bit of an incorrect analogy, because really, it was more like turning all the taps on in the house to see which ones were actually hooked up to the plumbing. Some posts I am really happy with. Some are bloated and sloppy. Some sort of existed years ago and some I worked out as I went.

The discipline in writing every single day – and then publishing something with pictures and captions – was a really good muscle to work out. A lot of these tiny October babies would have been a lot better if I’d let them sit for two days and then rewritten them, but this was about volume, not perfection.

Next month I am going to start the Fiji: The Return blogs. I can’t wait to go back to my notes and re-live that holiday with Annie the little sunflower. So we won’t have daily posts, but we WILL have spellchecking and proper sentence structure; which I think will be a wonderful trade.

So, what should we talk about in this last blog? Well, I put a call out for topics, and I got a whole lot I didn’t get to.

Let’s blitz em!

How do you separate your personal life from your online persona/social media presence?

Jo has known me 15 years and never once knew I had a boyfriend, when I have had… hmm… wow. Literally all of my boyfriends in that time. (I had one date at 15 then I just waited until I was 24 to have another one; sometimes a gal just needs a nine-year break from men).

I’ve literally moved continents with one of my boyfriends, had others in my FB profile pics, declared love with emojis to the point where people left comments saying they felt sick.

Jo, honey, if you think I keep anything separate, I just think you ain’t looking.

In saying that, sure, I’ve dated a few camera shy fellas who weren’t fans of me posting their faces on Instagram. No more of that. Selfie on the first date as a test of their mettle.

(That wasn’t even a joke, I literally did this on Monday.)

Last minute costume ideas for Halloween that aren’t cultural appropriation

Jo (another Jo, I like Jos, I collect them) suggested this one. You could just go super lazy, Jim Halpert style?

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I dunno though, I get that he’s funny and all, but come on Jim, you don’t need to keep SUCH a wall up against embracing LIFE.

To be honest I find this request really hard. If I had to pull together a last-minute Halloween costume I would just go into my bedroom and pick one of my 20 wigs and put on one of my 10 pairs of novelty eyelashes and then add some sequins and a clown mask and grab a few flags and I’d be good to go. But I don’t think most people have that repertoire in their home.

So my advice is, pop round to my place and I’ll dress you up.

What’s better? Potatoes vs bread

Fuck you, Leigh. How dare you.

No, I’m sorry. I take that back. It’s just… this suggestion is impossible. We shouldn’t hold them in opposition, they are carb cousins, such friendly bedfellows, bringing us all joy. Sometimes you can even eat them together (the chip butty is an invention from the goddess above).

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Give it to me baby, uh huh, uh huh

In short: no.

NEXT.

Benefits of assisted stress relief / how to channel Meryl Streep

Thanks Sam. Readers, I didn’t understand the first part of this suggestion so I messaged her for clarification, and she replied “booty call, aka sex, to calm”. This is why I love Sam. “Booty call, aka sex”. Yes! Booty sex, aka calls, for calm. Calm sex, aka booty.

Oh and for part 2 … if you’re having a bad day at work, imagine Meryl staring down Anne Hathaway with a withering glance. Be her. Embody that. Stare everyone down as if they are your own personal Hathaway. It helps.

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Do this.

Why quitting jobs and going travelling is a brilliant idea…?

Kylie, love, every single time I’ve thrown my hands up in the air and declared something done and not good for me, and fucked off somewhere else, I have expanded my idea of who I am, learnt a lot, cried, loved, gotten hurt, grown, lived. I have regrets, but it’s about the times I didn’t listen to my insides; not the times I followed them.

Write a blog about not having any ideas to write a blog about

You’re so meta, Maddy. My Dad told me once I should write a story called “The Year of the Brick” but so it ended up being a story about how I didn’t know how to write a story called “The Year of the Brick”.

I found it. Here’s a line from it:

It is that evening when I lie in bed that I am struck by a revelation. There is no need to choose between a metaphorical story and a literal story. Why not write them both from opposite ends of the book at the same time? Just imagine the middle, where the man, brick-like in both his strength of character and slightly squarish head, abruptly becomes a brick in the wall of a house. It will be astounding! The book will be hailed as a masterpiece!

So there’s that.

The patriarchy

Thanks Tony for this idea which I think he suggested so he could gently rib me for my angry feminist views, hashtag snowflake, etc.

Today I messaged the fella I’m wooing a long diatribe all about gender roles, and it ended with “the PLOUGH is the patriarchy”.

I continue to be a very chill and dateable person, very cool, very casual.

Meal prepping – the good the bland and the unexpected

Right now, Sandra, I have four containers of meal prep in the fridge. It cost probably $30 and took a few hours. I overcooked the brussels sprouts and they smell SUPER farty and they’re SUPER squishy. So now what I will do is just continue to not eat them until they get to the point where they are definitely off, then say “oh well”, and throw it out.

How’s about a post on what you would do if you were a dude on a date? Pretend to be a guy and write from his perspective. Bonus points if he’s a tool

Damon, my advice for men on dates (this wasn’t your suggestion but it’s what I’m going to write down anyway) is:

  1. Ask questions. If you find this really hard, then what you can do is: answer a question the girl asks you, then just say “and what about you?” When she talks, look at her, then ask another question that relates to what she said.
  2. That’s all my advice, really. It’s amazing how many of them don’t do this. It seems like a fairly entry-level human activity. Like, I do this with people selling me socks.

Various frittata.

Katie, you wordsmith. I think “Frittata” would be a great Drag Queen name. Frittata von Choochoo, or something. Stealing it.


Look, to end this, I want to say a big and sincere thank you to the 1200 people who have viewed the milkshake in October 3000 times. Not that it’s about the view counts and the numbers, we just wanna make the world dance, forget about the price tag…

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Jessie J be damned, these girls own that song.

Having so many of you join me on this lil’ journey has been so spesh. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this blog, left comments, shared the link with their mum. This month has been full of people opening their hearts back at me, sending me messages and telling me their stories. It’s been utterly wonderful, and I have loved exploding my feelings all over the internet with you.

See you in November!

2 thoughts on “Blogtober Over”

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