To spook or not to spook

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I've never "celebrated" Halloween.

I kind of don't get it....possibly because growing up in Australia in the 70's and 80's we just simply didn't do Halloween....plus I grew up in a fundamental Christian environment where participating in Halloween was not only frowned upon but we would have sermons before or on Halloween unfolding how evil this "celebration" was. As a result, I learned to fear it and avoid it like the plague.

Honestly....a lot of my "faith" and belief system seemed to have been based on fear. Maybe I should write more on that one day...

Anyway...back to the topic. I've never "celebrated" Halloween so I'm kind of a bit clueless about how to do so...but we're having a bit of a party type thing at our place for Halloween. Not that we're inviting anyone over, but we are all dressing up to greet the Trick or Treaters that will undoubtedly come. Mind you, I'm only opening the door to little kids and their parents up until about 8pm....or until the treats run out. After that, we go into hiding because that's when the real little devils come out to play....and by that I am referring to the troublemakers of the neighbourhood - armed with eggs and other missiles.

The young ones want to have a party of sorts so we went to Lombards on the weekend and stocked up on a few things. Tim's into special effects make up so he bought all sorts of bits and pieces that will enable him to make scabs and burns and blood. Georgia and Chloe bought a few things for costumes. I couldn't help but be drawn into their enthusiasm and I found myself scanning the aisles for basic decorations.

What? Me?

Yes. I bought a large spiderweb and several plastic spiders, some spooky cupcake papers and the piece de resistance, a jointed skeleton. Oh how I love my little skeleton. After Halloween he shall hang in my closet and be known as the skeleton in my closet henceforth!

Lombards was great as their entire store was decked out in Halloween decorations so I gained a lot of ideas from there without having to purchase their expensive ones. Instead, I'm heading to the Reject Shop and my local Coles to purchase things like crepe paper and garbage bags that will do just as well. I'm also considering buying a carving pumpkin to make our own Jack-o-lantern....although I'm battling thinking about the waste of food. Perhaps a pumpkin soup with the pulp? Are carving pumpkins even edible?

Excited conversations are being had about the entertainment we will have over the course of the evening. I've heard whispers of Monster Mash and Michael Jackson's Thriller, A Nightmare Before Christmas (which Chloe said is a good movie for watching both at Halloween AND Christmas) and The Corpse Bride.

Yeah, we're really hardcore here! That's about the scariest we will go. While other people may be watching The Shining, Carrie and The Exorcist we'll be watching Tim Burton films. Badass we are!

Are we celebrating? No, not really. We're just having a spooky night as a family, putting to rest fears and biases and being free to express some other parts of who we are. No longer driven by fear and misconception we are forging our own path and making choices for ourselves.

It feels good to be free.

Authenticity and the blogging community.

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Authenticity (philosophy) - is the degree to which one is true to one's own personality, spirit or character, despite external pressure. 

Over the past week I have been thinking a lot about the word authenticity and what I believe it means in regards to being true to the self. I have been thinking a lot about this in response to a blog I read, written by a woman I very much admire as a mother, a woman and a seeker of truth. 

This woman has been through things I cannot even bear to think about, and yet in the face of this she chooses to walk in love and gentleness - seeking to respond to the situations she is in, her children, life and people she encounters along her way with love and acceptance. She chooses to blog about her journey and the journey she and her children make each day. Yes, her lifestyle is alternative as she seeks truth for herself and strives towards living authentically, but this makes reading her blog all the more interesting. I am challenged and inspired each time I read her writings and come away with many things to ponder and meditate on in regards to my own life and how I live it. I have met this woman before, albeit briefly, and I found her to be very much as I read her - gentle, full of love and giving.

Each day she works towards being her authentic self and allows her children to live authentically as possible as well. She allows them to choose their own clothes, what they learn about, hairstyles, what they eat, when and how much. She doesn't enforce her own agendas on her children and I know that she has been challenged more than once to remain silent and let them choose for themselves how they wish to present themselves to the world. I find it all wonderfully facinating to watch the process play out. 

But, when you reveal some of your life online and have a blog where you write about the process of becoming authentic, living authentic and your lifestyle choices, it inevitably attracts the readers who watch your every move and pounce on anything they deem as contrary to your own philosphies. I cringe in horror as I read comments that reveal judgemental attitudes, criticism and this seeminly insane desire to catch her up when she stumbles. As time has gone on, she has blogged less and less and I wonder if it's due to the fact that each time she does, even though it may be a lovely piece about their latest travels and discoveries, there will be more than one someone who will criticise her for something. More often than not these comments will be insanely petty.

The latest two that saddened me came in the form of criticising her for shaving her legs. The reader deemed that this was not "authentic". The other was a criticism of her referring to herself and her girls as Gypsies. 

No. Really?

So what if she chooses to shave her legs!? In my mind she IS being authentic to her real self for doing so! Maybe she likes the feel of shaved legs? Maybe she likes the look of her legs when they are shaved? Whatever the case, she shaves them. This is her choice. If she didn't do so because she thought that hairy legs were the trademark of a hippy gypsy and she should do so because this is what everyone expected of a hippy, regardless of how she truly felt about it, then she would not be authentic to her real self. Instead of bowing to this seemingly relentless pressure, she listens to her inner self. She knows what she likes and doesn't like and responds accordingly. She knows her children intimately and fosters their growth and development in a loving, gentle, non-judgemental way. Who on earth are we the reader for criticising her whatever choices she makes? She makes them after careful reflection and thought. Why should she have to live up to readers expectations?

And why should she have to explain to her readers why she took an overseas trip and left her children in the care of others? None of our business! Yet there are readers who seem to believe it's their right to know why. 

Sometimes we as readers seem to think it's our right to appoint ourselves Judge, Jury and Executioner. Trial by Readership....and it's ugly.

So, after pondering these things I have come to the conclusion that being authentic does not have a specific look on the outside. A well groomed woman with immaculate hair, makeup and fashionable attire may be being JUST as authentic to herself as the woman who just lets her hair grow and hang in a messy ponytail, wearing no makeup and wears loose flowing shirts and jeans with bare feet. It's all a case of responding to your own inner values, not anyone elses. That's what being authentic is. 

I really hope she keeps blogging. I have learned so much from her. I hope she doesn't bow to the pressure of her readership forcing her into their ideal of authentic living. 

Just hold the eggs

Our house was egged on Saturday night.

I don't like eggs at the best of times.

Evil little ovals of yuckiness! I mean, come on! Who was it who looked at what emerged from a chooks bum and said, "Mmm! Yummy! I think I'll eat that!" 

But seriously, yes our house was egged to welcome the first official weekend of Daylight Savings. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. Our house isn't the only one in town that endures an egging once the longer days are upon us but I think it's the most frequently targeted. 

For obvious reasons of course. Most hooligans know where we live and who lives here. 

This egging was a pain in the butt more than anything as it had been a warm day and we had the window open. The eggs were thrown at the window so they hit the screen, broke and went onto the blinds and the curtains. 

Little buggers.

It's gotten to the stage now where I just sigh, grab a bucket, mop and the hose and go clean it off before it hardens. Yes I've been to the police who have promised there will be more patrols but in the grand scheme of things I suppose eggings are not too serious in their opinion. They've got domestic violence and robberies and stabbings to see to. Totally understand.

We've had worse than eggs and times where they've entered our property and damaged our gates. These have definitely been reported to the police, who did actually step up patrols in the area.

I can't really tell you why I am no longer outraged or incensed or even hurt. Maybe I've just reached a stage of my life where I know that their actions reflect more on their character rather than mine. I know that we're targeted because we are a family of short statured people and the bullies think that's funny.....but for some reason I have moved on and it has no bearing on how I feel about myself and my kids and our place in the world. I know we belong and I know we're pretty cool people....and I'm sure that if these bullies actually swallowed their fear (because that's all it is, you know!) and took a chance to get to know us, they'd think we were pretty cool too. 

And I really wish they would do that......

.....because cleaning smashed egg off windows and brickwork is a bitch of a job.

When I grow up

You know what? I don't think I'm going to grow up. Growing up is highly over-rated.

Remember being a kid? Those endless summers...the unending wait between birthdays or Christmases? Oh my gosh time seemed to draaaaaag! I couldn't wait to grow up, to be a lady, a mum, be able to drive.

Now I'm here in supposed Grown-up Land I really don't know what the fuss was all about. In fact, the younger grown ups and me tend to do lots of non-grown up things and have a wow of a time doing it.

Yesterday afternoon we made a Blanket/Sheet Fortress in the loungeroom. We adorned it with fairy lights and ate party food for dinner. A couple of us slept in there most of the night, along with the dogs. Sometime during the night the inevitable happened and part of the fortress collapsed...mostly on top of me. We laughed and made our way to bed. Our backs were sore and we were cold anyway.

I sit and reflect on why I didn't do more of these kinds of things with the kids when they were little, but then I smile and give thanks that we're doing it now. These are what memories are made of. When I'm gone I want them to remember the silliness that was their mother and tell stories to my grandchildren of their Nanna who refused to grow up.

Because being a grown up is terribly over-rated you know.

Protego Totalum - AKA Living in my bubble

Protego Totalum : is an incantation of many protective enchantments used to defend a certain small or enclosed area. Taken from the latin Protego meaning "to protect" and Totalum,  meaning "as a whole".

Taken from HERE.

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Living as a person with an obvious physical difference has meant that when I am out and about doing my regular everyday, mundane things, I am noticed. A lot. It comes as part of the package. Everyone does it. I even do it. A difference registers in the brain. For me, I register the difference and move on....but most human beings register a difference and linger on it longer than is often comfortable.

For a long while I noticed this noticing. A lot. I knew when people stared. I saw when people did the double take. I heard the comments, the giggling, the obvious mirth. It used to bother me. A lot. I longed to be invisible, camouflaged, to just fit in....but that wasn't going to happen. Ever.

It was my brother who provided me with the perfect strategy for handling being under constant scrutiny. He told me that as the CEO of a business, people were always trying to get his attention, to meet with him, to take up his time - especially when he arrived at work. He told me to avoid this he would pretend not to notice, to look busy and purposeful and to avoid eye contact. He told me that eye contact meant that you were looking to engage with someone and that he had noticed that I was constantly looking at people, expecting contact. 

Look busy, ignore it and eventually you won't see it. 

It was hard to start off with. I realised how much of my time out in public was taken up with looking for people who were noticing me! (that sounds like I was up myself!) I was expecting the stares, the comments, the jitters. It took me a long time to perfect the art of not noticing at all and forming almost a "protective bubble" around myself. 

I now know how to use Protego Totalum!

I hardly notice it anymore! It hasn't stopped. I know it happens. In fact, possibly since the advent of the smart phone I am probably photographed or filmed at least once every day, but because I don't look for it, as far as I am concerned it's not happening.

Ignorance, my friends, CAN sometimes be bliss!

Of course I notice the obvious times. There are times where people are just so obviously downright rude that I can't help but notice and, sometimes, confront them on it. They're the times where someone has breached the protective bubble - you know, "This is my dance space, this is your dance space!" - and they have entered into my own personal space. I'm big on personal space. When your face is level with an average sized person's bum, personal space is very important! 

But for the most part these days I walk about in my little space of Protego Totalum and I am oblivious. This has done wonders for my own sense of self and for my mental health. Constantly feeling like I was on show was really doing my head in. Like, really!

The only downside of this is that there are times where I notice nothing! I friend could be calling out to me from the other side of the road, waving madly at me and I won't notice a thing. (It might help if I didn't have my ear phones in listening to my favorite tunes!) I've had people say to me afterwards, "I saw you at the ***** today and I was waving madly but you ignored me!" We laugh about it, but they know it's just a part of the way I do life....they also think I'm nutty, but that's another story. 

I am not alone in this. At the convention last week I laughed as I noticed other short statured friends doing exactly the same thing. Maybe it's a coping mechanism we all have.

All I know is, Protego Totalum works for me.....and I'd like to give a nod to Hermione Granger for giving me the cool label for it!

Back to reality

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Up until now I've always hated it when the phrase, "Going back to reality," was used following a short statured people's convention. In my mind it reeked of fantasy; as though we had entered some kind of world where reality didn't exist. I used to say, "But we DO live in the real world wherever we are!" Whether we're with a group of short statured people and their families or whether we're just out there living our lives, doing our thing then wherever we are, that's real life.

And I still subscribe to that. I don't live a fantasy life. I live a real life, warts and all. It's very ordinary. So ordinary in fact that I'd even call it somewhat mundane. Get up, work, go home, eat, sleep, rinse and repeat.

But I'm not so sensitive now about the phrase, "going back to the real world" because everyone uses it. You take a break from your everyday routine and you do something different for a short while. You do it to rest, recharge, break it up a bit, have an adventure, escape, retreat. 

That's what the convention was for me. It was a chance to get away from it all, connect with others, get out of town, see some new faces and places, be encouraged, inspired, challenged. It was everything I was hoping it to be and more. 

I'm now back in the ordinary humdrum of everyday living and it's actually this existence that feels kind of surreal to be honest. I find it hard to believe that a couple of short days ago we were exploring Port Arthur and learning about our colonial history. It's hard to get back into the swing of learning MYOB and checking stationery supplies after that.

In the past, when I was a much younger girl, the end of a convention was heartbreaking. I would sob, not knowing when the next time would be where I'd be reunited with my new friends - if ever! Now it's not so hard. I know that the world today is not so small. I can hop on a plane or a train or in a car and see these people whenever the whim takes me. I can use Skype to call them. There's the instant gratification of staying in touch via email or Facebook. The world has indeed changed.

So now, the vibe of convention can stay the entire year. It is now always a part of reality. 

Quick convention thoughts.

Just a part of the crowd! Convention delegates - 2013

We've been in Tasmania for five days. They've been the most beautiful five days in a long time. How do I begin to describe the atmosphere of love and community and acceptance that characterises this convention? I can't. You have to be here and experience it to know it. This is known as a smaller convention in that there are about 61 people on site. Smaller, more intimate conventions have always, in my experience, been the best. Everyone works together beautifully, it all just flows, the children play together happily. There's no nonsense, no love triangles, no bitching, no one with their own agendas. I'll wait until I get home to write more details but here's a quick rundown:

• Monday medical day. Very informative. geneticists are on the verge of beginning human trials of a new drug treatment for achondroplasia (my type) which will hopefully mean that although it is not a cure, the complications that can be associated with the condition are lessened or eradicated completely. Very exciting! Monday night was the Cowboy & Indians disco which was complete fun and joy and this old girl was consistently the oldest chook on the dance floor but loving every second!

• Tuesday we went and visited historical Port Arthur which I found totally fascinating ...and emotional given that I visited the Pool of Reflection and paid my respects to the victims of the shootings in 1996 but particularly to Nannette, Alannah & Madeleine Mikac. I read Walter Mikac's book not long after it was published and was deeply affected by it to the point where I grieved for a long while after.

• Wednesday was the AGM and i accepted a position on National Council. Wednesday afternoon was the Short Artss workshop/Masterclass which, for the introductory session was a phenomenal success. I led the writing workshop and it was such a powerful session where stories were told, tears were shed and bonds strengthened.

• Thursday (yesterday) was a massive day. We went to the Cadbury factory, up to Mt Wellington and played in the snow (G was so excited! Her first snow experience!) and then explored the intricacies of MONA. I loved MONA in all it's arty senselessness. So many peoe were going around saying, "But what does this mean???" to which I would reply, "It's art. It doesn't have to have meaning!" I'd like to come back and spend a whole day there.

• Thursday night was the dinner dance at Wrest Point Casino. Excellent food, wonderful company and a good (but loud) band called Australian Made. I danced ALL night and went to bed completely sober but tired and happy.

• Today I've taken time out and have gone off to Richmond to poke around the shops. I'm sitting in a coffee shop with my Devonshire tea. It's been nice. I've got reception so I've caught up on emails, sent texts, updated Facebook some more and written this.

• Tim is enjoying himself in his sweet, quiet way. Georgia has newfound friends. This makes me happy.

• I am in a good place. I feel content and happy. I've felt completely relaxed this week and have let myself be authentic and maskless. The result of this has been people responding in kind. I am blessed with friends and feel very connected to this group for whom I hold genuine affection.

Peace and love.