media watch

So last night I knew a couple of friends were going to be on Media Watch. For overseas readers Media Watch is a weekly 1/2hr program which analyses media in Australia. If you are a journalist you do not want to be on Media Watch. I remember quite soon after leaving uni a classmate of mine was featured after covering an aeroplane crash with the line, “It’s an all too familiar story, planes go up, dead bodies come down”. He now works on 60 Minutes in the US so it didn’t totally destroy his career.

I knew those friends were going to be on it because I told them not to do it. That nothing good comes from being on Media Watch. They basically hang you out to dry. Granted it is often warranted – sloppy journalism deserves to be outed at any chance. But what was their angle going to be on blogging and most importantly why were they doing a story on it in the first place?

I felt sick for what could possibly be to come for them as I heard the intro music. Condescension? Ridicule? And then almost lost my breakfast lunch and tea as my head and voice filled the screen.

why hello there

The video of the segment can be watched or the transcript read here.

I’m still not sure what the point of it was, for Media Watch it was pretty beige. A shot across the bow that bloggers are now on its radar? Who knows. The voice-overs were horribly condescending but apart from that we all walked away relatively unscathed.

I will say though, I was quoted saying my unique hits were “around 20,000” which at the time they were, fluctuating between 17,500 to 21,000 over a 3 month period at the time of the 2GB interview. After the last few months of not blogging virtually every day of the week at the moment it’s sitting on 13,000.

 

So there you have it.

 

Onward!

Thin line

I dumped my brain on here the last few days. I haven’t done that in a while, I try not to. It makes people feel uncomfortable. It makes me feel weird.

I want people to understand that the little things each day shit me just like the next person but I also want none of us to forget that while we bitch about picking the slow queue again in the post office or the idiot driver who pulls left to turn right (what the FUCK is wrong with people) there are so many bigger fish to fry.

Sure, I spend a large portion of my day trying to ignore the worries and stresses I have about Oscar.

Sure I, as a mother, spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about my boys, particularly Felix as he hits high school and enters a decade of becoming a man all while negotiating puberty, school work, who he wants to be, believing in himself, becoming more responsible, comprehending consequences on a far grander scale that what happens if you flog your brother again, having fun.

I didn’t really have fun as a teenager, my life was a pretty intense one with mum working her arse off and dad being absent but expectant all at the same time. When it all went pear shaped one of my aunts told me I had to grow up now, be responsible for mum, to be sensible and to help. Having fun and being a ‘typical teenager’ doesn’t really come into action when someone says that to you when you’re 11. I was the good Christian Girl going to not one but THREE youth fellowships (really covering all bases) and while it truly did get me through a lot of my teenage rage the pay off was guilt. I look back and think much of my adolescence was spent holding my breath. For the next bad thing to happen, for not being good enough, for letting people down.

Where do these emotions come from? I think they largely come from self, I can see it in Felix, but they are then compounded by external factors.

Fast forward a few years.

Fast forward to now.

I just can’t shake this feeling that I have done it all wrong. I mean, who the hell at almost 40 lives with their mother? Who at almost 40 has to ask for a hand-out from their in-laws to pay for car repairs? Who at almost 40 reduces three of their children’s bank accounts to zero to pay for car registration?

 

I’m doing it all wrong.

 

Where did I imagine my life to be at this stage?

Well, not living rent-free with my mother for one.

Not living pay-packet to pay-packet for another.

Not having to accept charity from friends.

 

Someone said to me the other day that accepting charity from others, help from people is about being humble and that having humility is the hardest virtue to learn.

 

In the last two weeks people have:

– looked after and cared for my children unconditionally

– picked up my kids from school and pre-school and looked after them for me without question

– texted me to say they’re having my kid over for a play, no discussion entered into (so so good)

– dropped off food parcels for my family including homemade dessert

– dropped off food parcels for me, to me, in the hospital

– brought me chai lattes at the hospital and hung out to talk shit and make me laugh

– taken my kids to and from footy practice

– dropped off a toiletries and cleaning products care package – anonymously. With one of those double Cadbury Family chocolate blocks in it. That I’ve hidden. And won’t be sharing. Maybe.

– sent us a crate of Gourmet Dinner Service meals that I keep looking at and bursting into spontaneous tears over. Because re-entry into family life after 12 days at hospital is just as hard, in some respects, as 12 days in hospital.

– sent me texts and tweets and Facebook shout-outs telling me you’re thinking of us, willing us a swift trip home

 

I have been humbled by all of it. Blown Away. Driven to tears at people’s love for us, for me. Bolstered by people’s generosity of heart and spirit.

I know we are blessed, that I am blessed to have a world so full of love and friendship. Plenty have pointed out to me they wish they had family and friends to help them out in times of need (subtext I am so lucky) and they need not fear me not realising, appreciating and being infinitely grateful to have so many holding on tight to the safety net under me, ready to catch me as I fall.

I know everyone has wanted to do this because I know when I see a friend struggling I want to do something, anything to ease their burden just a little.  Sometimes it’s words, sometimes something I’ve made, sometimes my hilarious company. (Remember when I was funny?)

 

So why is it sitting so uncomfortably with me?

Somehow all this makes me feel like I’ve failed.

Having to accept help is about having failed, of not being able to manage, of not coping.

I feel I’ve let everyone down.

That I have done it all wrong.

There are so SO many should haves swirling around in my head.

 

We have some family friends who are the most beautiful people in the world, but bad things happen to them all the time – a child off the rails, poor health, financial stress. There is always a feeling of unfairness when they are talked about, that they don’t deserve all this, why does it happen to them?

I do NOT want to be that family people talk about.

And yet I totally know we are.

I DO NOT want to be the sympathy card. The “Poor Kim”.

SO I just want you all to know I won’t let you down.

I will try harder.

You will not have to keep picking me up  or carrying me.

I will not let you down.

I will not fail.

 

Onward.

 

 

Awww, you guys made me ink…

because once this is done, I’m totally blaming the interweb. The ink that I have decided upon.

 

On the outside of my right foot:

Onward

On the outside of my left foot:

Never give up

 

In this sort of font/look”

 

On the thumb side of my left pointer finger:

A green (yoda) light saber

Think of the opportunities to use this – every time I try to use the force to bring the tv remote closer to me; every time I point at my kids to get them to do something they will then ignore me asking them to do, and so on and so forth.

On the inside of my right wrist:

but maybe a wooden spoon instead of the tongs.

 

On the inside of my right wrist (not across my back!):

quotation marks

 

Bring that shit on.

 

I have no idea of the timeframe (or the cost!) but there you have it. A plan. This approaching 40 mid-life crisis is working a treat for me quite frankly.

 

Onward!

Wasting as many minutes as possible – Also known as why I am not famous published author and never will be

The boys are away. Three nights of no ‘no, you’re sleeping in your bed’ or ‘have you done a wee yet’. Three mornings of no ‘MUUUUUUM Oscar’s playing XBox’ or ‘hello mumma, mumma up now’.

 

So naturally I’m panicked about how not to waste a MINUTE of it. Child-free time particularly that involving overnight stays are PREESHUSS. My plan was is to use the time to write some 500 worders to go with a concept I’m begging pleading pitching to a newspaper. And maybe go to a movie. And sleep. Or simply just eat as much junk food as humanly possible. Because nothing says ‘the kids are away’ more than a diet of toast, cereal and junk food.

OMG I can sleep in
Don’t sleep in, that time could be spent on Twitter writing
Which movie should I see
Why is there no chocolate in this house
Oooh, chips, excellent
Tweet tweet tweet
Blogs blogs blogs
Come on Kim, get your arse into gear, WRITE something
Start writ_oh that fish looks a bit dodgy, better feed them
I think I’m hungry
No, you can’t be hungry, you just ate that whole packet of chips
Why is there no chocolate in this house
Water, I need water
My lips are so dry
Is that a pimple on my neck? I better go look
*hold music*
Right, get writing
*2 minutes later*
Is that rain? Better bring the washing in
Oh, it’s not raining but look at that mess over there, better clean that up
I think I’m thirsty
Those chips made me thirsty (Snigger at *almost* Seinfeld quote) (chastise self for being so lame)
So, what’s happening on Twitter
Oh man, @benpobjie is sooo funny
Why can’t I come up with some wicked little pithy tweet like @jothornley
Oooh Facebook!
Snore
RIGHT, back to it.
*25 words later*
That’s it, I can’t stand looking at this filthy kitchen anymore
An HOUR later
Better give the cupboards a wipe down
write
Twitter
wonder what the boys are doing? Hope Grovey’s OK.
Water. Must drink more water.
Why is there no chocolate in this house.
Write
Stare at fish tank
Wonder why one sucking cat fish is so much bigger than the other
Hey! Big sucking catfish, leave the little catfish alone
I wonder if the smaller one is the female
Or maybe the bigger one is the female
No that doesn’t make sense
Because when they have sexWHAT THE FUCK Kim, CONCENTRATE
*20 minutes*
Twitter
Facebook
Anyone updated their blog
Better see if anything’s going on in the world
SMH online
OH, it’s The World Today. I love that.
Listen.
Write.
I think I’m hungry. Is that hunger?
You can’t be hungry, you ate all that peanut butter turkish toast AND a massive packet of chips
There’s no way you’re going to lose 15kgs by the end of the year at this rate
Maybe I should go for a run
NO it’s too hot now but do go later. Yes later. Great idea.
*Later*
Well, those lawns aren’t going to trim themselves, best see how that new whipper snipper works
Well why the hell did I do that? THAT was a HUGE waste of my child free time.

Headdesk
headdesk
headdesk
headdesk
headdesk

ONWARD!

 

 

 

Winners

Lynda from Nuffnang kindly reminded me today that I needed to pick winners from my Hugo post.

So SuperSarah (first movie Top Gun, what’s not to love), Rakster (ET – a classic and what a standard to set for first movie), and Kay (her sister did calisthenics, I took pity), email me your postal details so they can get your passes out to you toot sweet.