Just to be clear, I DON’T think I’m famous (I put that in because I have brothers out there who will give me grief about this when I see them). That said, I’m pumped to be part of the Australian Electoral Commission’s Famous People Vote gee-up to get everyone enrolled to vote for the upcoming Federal election (likely to be around September).
This is how excited I am (I’m almost falling off my chair):
Another installment in the series. This time, it’s by a reader with CFS – Natalie, who writes a very sweet blog, lemon butter. I really do believe that AI is something that’s going to become more prevalent…I think it’s a symptom of our stressful, A-type and toxic times.
Which is not to say I’m totally dark on life and all it sends my way. No fear. Having an AI is a great wake-up call. I’m healthier than I’ve ever been. And I’m in a great position to issue warnings and advice and love to others who push their bodies a little too hard…(yes, do as I say, not as I did).
Enjoy Nat’s e-share. I totally get the peanut butter thing and the vegemite thing. I do both when my body is craving instant energy hits….
I’m Natalie, also known as the girl on reception, Max’s girlfriend and the girl that had that sickness where you’re always tired. I prefer to call it Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or Mylagic Encpehalomyelitis, or for practicalities sake; CFS/ME, which is an autoimmune disease that has ruled my life for the past 5 years and although always tired, gave me chronic insomnia, too. Other symptoms like paralysis and loss of speech got me too. A quick Google search will show you more.
It just so happens I’ve stumbled across a few tidbits that appeal to my geeky side recently. I know lots of people like to say they were geeks (especially models). Well, I was one, fair and square. I was in a “special” class, I got the maths prize in Year 12, and the double major maths prize. And the physics prize. I wore an eyepatch for a year when I was 11-12. Need I say too much more…?
1. Guess what released this week? The Huffington Post FREE iphone app. Neat.
2. Do you have a stack of old National Geographics? Sean Miller made a very cool bookshlef out of his. Public holiday craft project, anyone? (PS he coated the magazines with a a water/starch mixture; placed them under pressure for about a week; carved out space for a shelf with a bandsaw; about 80 mags were used.)
3. Fun clip of psychologist Philip Zimbardo lecturing on how different cultures’ attitudes to time affect the wellbeing of that society.
This week I annihilate my unfinished tasks
I call it the Un-Albumed Photo Problem. In households around the world, shoved at the back of some cupboard, is a box of old photos with negatives that have come loose from the packet. This box elicits much guilt. It probably hasn’t been touched in years; I mean, who gets photos printed these days? But rarely does a week go by when someone in said household doesn’t say to themselves, “I really should put those photos in albums”. I had dinner this week with a frazzled TV executive toying with taking extended leave so she can regain control of her life. “If I could just get time to put the baby photos in albums,” she said. “That’s all I need.” The “baby”, by the way, is now 18.
I’ve just got back from New York. Somehow I managed to sleep 8 1/2 hours on the plane. Which is so weird given I don’t sleep that long in a bed…ever! I adore the city. It makes life feel expansive. But before I forget, a flotsam of observations:
1. I don’t like shopping, but I like checking out shop names. This city has some great ones. Like this one:
2. On my last day, I spent the morning with Oprah’s life coach Martha Beck. She is a Dead. Set. Legend. A wonderfully wise soul who has LIVED. She was raised a Morman in Utah, raped by her Dad, had a Downs Syndrome child then shortly after her husband announced he was gay and left. Not long after that she realised she was also gay. Hmph.
As we drank tea, she bent a spoon.
I mentioned yesterday my love affair with The New Yorker. I equally love The New York Times. Especially the columnists. My friend Kersti was saying the NYT encourages a workplace structure where they give their top journalists time off the newsdesk to reflect. And write considered pieces. Which explains a lot.
David Brooks is a New York Times columnist who I follow and yesterday he wrote the kookiest column ever about the importance of delving deep and exploring what he calls The Big Shaggy. It’s an insane concept for a conservative columnist to tackle. The Big Shaggy is the inner beast within that controls our yearnings.
I saw, I left, I’m still reeling.
This weekend, I parted with more than two hours of my existence and $5 to see the SATC2 movie here in New York. It offended from every angle and I fear writing about the experience is adding oxygen to the bonfire of crass consumerism, woeful colonial arrogance and destructive relationship messages that is this creation.
But there are some important things to be said on the matter.
* It’s off-kilter: I think right now Americans do not want to see themselves represented as crude spenders (every scene all four of them are wearing new outfits, one more decadent and showy than the next) and arrogant tourists.
In February I started studying to become a health counsellor with the Institute of Integrative Nutrition in New York, via correspondence. Name someone big in nutrition and I can safely say they’re probably lecturers at this place…Deepak Chopra, Joel Fuhrman, Sally Fallon Morell, Mark Hyman, etc.
I’ve learned things like: Eat melons alone or leave them alone (they digest so fast that if you eat anything else with them, digestion is retarded…leading to gas). There you go, hey!
Also, always soak brown rice overnight before cooking. It gets breaks down the phytic acid in the husk, which when ingested regularly can leach zinc and other vital minerals from your system.
Anyway, I’ve managed to strike up a deal where if anyone reading this decides to enroll in the course, too, and they mention I referred them, INN will hand me $500, which I’ll donate to OzHarvest.
OzHarvest is a wonderfully authentic Australian charity run by Ronni Kahn (who meditates in the same group as me) that collects excess food from restaurants and cafes and delivers it to those in need.
This week I eat mindfully
Now here’s a thought: what if all those folk who take photos of their every meal and post them on their blog/Twitter/Facebook were actually onto something? I’m sure you’ve seen them about. I was at lunch recently and watched a table of six whip out their iphones as their food arrived, repositioning the Maldon salt pot artfully and angling the lighting all Petrina Tinsley-like. In a flurry of thumbs they then tweeted the images on to their cyber followers replete, no doubt, with foodie-ese captions (“River Café-inspired mascarpone-stuffed chook with intriguing heirloom tomato smear”; “Well, if those toffee shards don’t take me straight back to 1992!”).
I’ve previously found such faddish behaviour bewildering. But this week I discerned a point to it all. Fastidiously honouring your food in this way is mindfulness in action.
I’ve just started a book. As in, writing one. I’m not quite sure how this came about. But as with most thing in my life, they’ve happened while I’ve been doing other things (I’d never even read Cosmopolitan before I became editor of it). Anyway, contracts are signed. I’m off.
How do you start writing a book? If you’re not writing a book, you might ask, how do you start a big project with multiple layers of complexity and emotion involved? I’ve been seeking an answer for a few months. There’s some common thinking out there, in case you’re wondering. Principally: don’t worrying about the perfect start; just… starting. Vomit forth ideas. Let them unfurl in a mess. Be messy with it. Be loose. Use butchers paper. Get fired up. Creative. No holds barred. Have no structure, no semblance of order.
But don’t edit.