Time to get a veghead

What is going on with all this hipster hate, or hate of any people for that matter.  The only people that I hate are those who are cruel to animals.  But that's a whole other issue.  Back to the humble hipster, I don't understand why they face so much scrutiny and negativity.  Seriously, these people are the bomb.  Here's why:

  Firstly and most obvious, the way they dress.  Its warm and friken awesome.  These people pile on layer after layer of clashing prints and some how look amazing.  Any oversized beanie and boot is a statement and most of the chicks rock no make up and bed hair.  They always look so comfy with there tiny tops, cute tights and ridiculously large jackets.  They seem to embrace the fashion for the present and the past with faux fur, Ray Bans and socks with frills (cute as).  Today I saw a boy in a tie-dye shirt and bow tie, what's not to love, he was charming and stood out.  Is that why they are hated?  They aren't afraid to stand out?  To wear their nannas knits and mums kicks?  I love it.  They shop at high fashion stores and salvos, this brings me to point number two.

  Hipsters shop at charity stores and make it cool, which is rad.  It promotes aid, recycling and no longer enforces the negative thought idea that people, kids in particular, need money and brands to look good.  You don't, and any "group" who supports charity regardless of the means is just swell.  They are savers at Savers haha...lame.

I don't know when it happened, but somewhere in between moving out of the family home (that my mother kept clean) and moving into a house with 4 boys (that no one cleaned) then moving into an apartment with just 2 boys one being #marvintheschnauzer I became a lady who liked to clean.  All of a sudden I value having shiny floors and an incense filled lounge room, I want clean dishes, our bed to be made and full tissue boxes.  I run around like a crazy person before I have any guests, even if it is just the bestie, Marvin has started being washed more, a vegie patch is growing away happily on the porch and there is always something being baked in the CLEAN oven.  When the hell did I get so domestic?

I haven't gone full OCD my wardrobe is an avalanche every time it try to open it, my mermaid hair rarely gets brushed and I cant handle the bathroom, cause well, ick!  But I can actually see the change in myself and I think I like it.  Obviously its quiet a good thing but I'm still a little surprised by my sudden domestic goddess role, perhaps its because this apartment now feels like ours and only ours, its our mess so is not a big deal to clean.  Maybe its because I love Nigella and anything she does I want to do!  Or maybe again its eek, an age thing, almost 24!  It could be because I spend more time at home.  My two writing jobs are both done at home and my barista job is a mere 1km away.  Instead of constantly going out to meet friends they now usually come over, this year I have already had 3 friends from Canberra come and stay the night and countless Melbourne friends.   And I actually relish this role, I love having girlfriends over when there is wine in the cupboard, homemade olive bread in the oven and soft cheese on the bench. Even more I like having a cheese board to serve it on and appropriate glasses for different alcoholic beverages.  I like Marvin's hipster moustache being clean and Chefs Hat is my new playground and South Yarra markets is my supermarket.  I scroll the internet for fantastic vegetarian recipes and chemical free cleaners.  I don't know anything about celebrities and I love it!

The modern day romantic seems to think that partners farting in front of each other means true love, not holding your farts in is love?  Pfft I simply do no believe this.  My lover better hold it in till the day he dies.  Who are these people that decided this was the equivalent gesture to giving flowers or chocolates.  Anything beyond the, dare I say, almost cute sleep fluffs will drive me mad.  Now I'm not a prude and very aware that "everybody poops" but I don't want to know about it.   I have a pretty high threshold when it comes to the body, give me pimples, stray hairs or belly button fluff and I wont blink twice, but I still value some old school rules like, causally leaving the room to fart.  It's not that hard.

I'm sure some people will disagree and think closeness is based on holding nothing back, and that perhaps I haven't had this level of closeness.  This is not true, me and the lover are very close, been living together for almost two years so there are no real secrets but we do NOT fart in front of each other and we ARE in love. 

I think its a good sign to keep some mystery about each other, having this boundary, even if it is my only real one, shows that we respect each other, or more he respects me and my sensitive girly nose.  I think its a good think, a sign of passion, romance and sex appeal.  He likes to pay for meals, take me out on the town, make me tea and keep me happy. We share everything, I can tell him anything, have complete faith and trust in him and also want to kill him a lot of the time.  We are as close as two peas in a pod!

Ok not right now, I want to punch him because he is stomping around because I don't want to leave the computer and warmth to go to the pub.  But still fart free room!

When you reach a certain age, have been with a fine male specimen for a number of years and everybody loves the two of you together you get asked the inevitable question of when are you getting married, or is he the one.  Well yes he is the one but I am NOT getting married anytime soon and for that matter I don't want to get engaged anytime soon, I'm not done being the girlfriend. Believe or not this is not the only thing on girls minds when they meet a fella and its definitely not on mine.

Now I'm not against marriage I love it, but its something I look forward to, a part of life that I am yet to reach.  Not due to age, maturity or men, purely because I like being a girlfriend.  Its fun, free and comes with daily benefits and pleasures. Beyond this if I get married now, or in the next few years, then it would already be done, I would be a wife, the anticipation and excitement of the big day would be gone, and the next question would be kids............. um get away from me!  To me becoming a fiancé now would be like someone giving me my Christmas presents now, sure I would be happy, who doesn't love presents but its not the right time and when the time scale is not yearly but life, well its just way to early. 

Why do people think that if you are in a committed relationship that your clock is ticking, am I a bomb?  Will our love die if we don't "put a ring on it"  does everybody just want to come to the party?  Whatever it is I wish I would stop getting asked, its awkward and no one ever seems to like the answer "I don't want to yet," its like they don't believe me, is it cause I'm a girl?  There are so many things to come first, in my life.  Travel, travel, travel, more schnauzers and yup more travel.  I feel secure so why don't people older then me let me be.  Why must our relationships fit us into a time slot of life and how far along we are, especially when so many marriages fail.   Why the big push? 

"You always look the same", these were either the sweetest words OR I should break up with the man who said them.  I'm hoping not the later.  My lover said this to me one night when we were out to dinner.  And yes I had made the effort to brush my hair, put on some lipstick and slip into a sexy dress.  I sat there stunned looking at him..."umm....gee thanks?'  I thought over the years I'd figured out how to dress myself and make a statement and that my clothes could fit my mood.  I considered myself quiet the chameleon I could do grungy, hipster, work, yoga, nanna, sexy the list goes on.  I know you're not supposed to say this but I like my body and thought I had it figured out.  But to hear I always look the same?  No make up vs. make up is all in our heads?

Being a smart boy he sensed I was disgruntled and followed up with a very cute man speech that made me want to keep him.  "No I can tell the difference when you have gotten all dolled up or when you are on the couch in your trackies, but to me you are always the same.  You always look the same in my mind, beautiful...."  Awwwww.  "Like now I can tell you have that black gunk on your eyes" hmmmmm.   That's right ladies, that smoky eye beauty companies insist we learn how to do to look "sexy" is purely black gunk.  Liberating?  I think not.  Although my other half loves the way I look in all forms, he has no problem in pointing out the flaws in others.

Two nights ago we where at a bar in Windsor, now I always notice people dressed, well, wrong.  And I don't mean slutty or ugly I mean skirts that are too small, fake hair and lack of hygiene.  But I was bemused to see the bf analysing two girls at the bar; "is that girl wearing tights?  what is she going for a run?"  YES boys hate tights too, why do girls continue to wear them as pants when not exercising, yes they are comfortable.  but she was wearing 8inch heels so clearly comfort was not her style.  He continues with the other "and look at her face, why is it so shiny?  she looks like porcelain."  Which translates to way too much bronzer.  Now he wasn't being mean, he was actually confused, bless. 

The following questions made me the saddest I have felt all year.  "Can I have your number" followed by "Is it ok if I call you?".  I wasn't propositioned at a bar and there was no sleazy men.  It was my pop asking.  I couldn't believe it, he didn't want to bug me but just wanted to keep in touch.  This conversation broke my heart a little.  What had happened over the past few years that my poppy, a man who had known me before I knew myself, didn't think he could call me? 

Was it the rush of me moving from Canberra to Melbourne?  The somewhat surly teenage years? The portrayal of my generation?  Whatever it was I could not stand it.  I have never spoken to my grandparents everyday but I often hand write them letters and try to go to their major birthdays.  This day of sadness for example was on my pops 80th birthday.  But somewhere in between I had somehow lost my sense of approachability, by my family, the shame!  the sadness! the confusion...

Now I don't claim to know everything about wine, I would love to know it all and claim the respected sommelier title but I'm many bottles away from this yet.  That being said I can tell the difference between varietals, name the more obvious tasting notes and I know what I do and don't like.  The day that I could tell and appreciate the difference between a $5 bottle of a $50 bottle of wine is one of my favourite transitions thus far.  It in turn turned me into a teen who drank to "get loose" to an adult who drank for pleasure, so please waitress at ************ pub don't try to mess with this. 

Now I understand that in hospitality we all tell little white lies sometimes or don't know the answer so make it up, "yes I'm sure that is skinny milk".  But you cant blatantly lie to a customer when they have pulled you up.  The other night me and the lover where having drinks at this scandalous pub and I was enjoying a beautiful glass of pinot noir.  I then asked the waitress for another and was brought a glass of red which was not poured at the table.  From the smell I knew it wasn't the same, the taste AWFUL.  I figured she swapped my delicious red for the house.  When she returned I asked her what wine she had given me, she didn't know but said she would ask...(didn't know? how could this be?) she returned and said it was the same as before and "even from the same bottle" (snide tone)  this I knew to be a lie because the first was poured in front of me and the bottle was emptied.  Long story short in the end I was given a new wine but it tainted my view of the place and made me realise how dear my wine is to me.

"I must not wish my life away", these are the words a dear friend of my mine said and I find myself trying to live by them.  It's not uncommon to wish the boring, days, hours or even weeks would go faster in anticipation of something better to come.  This wishing for time to pass has come to my attention as being ludacris, how could I wish for less life?!  Yet its a common practice, I'm going to Singapore in a week and wish I was going tomorrow.  But hang on, I have a whole weeks worth of achievements I should be trying to fit in first.  Or not even achievements just life to live.

One undateable, particularly boring night earlier this year I promised my self no more nights of nothing.  In short I decided that I would not be lazy.  Each night I must do at least one of the following; cook something incredible (no cereal for dinner), see a dear friend, write,  take the schnauzer for a long adventure, speak with a distant friend or family member, yoga, lover, read or watch something I have not seen before.

Last night I failed at this, lover was at work, my girlfriend and I decided it was too cold to go out and everything else just fell to the way side.  Needless to say I found myself watching reruns and eating too much, why?  I was waiting for the day to end, today in the light of feeling positive again I must say shame on you to my last night self.  Luckily such dismal a night happens about once a month to me so nothing to panic about but it really was a sorry state of affairs.

Today I have remade this no nothing promise to myself and plan to enjoy my life with no boring moments, today (a day with no real work) has already been filled with cooking, love and taking the schnauzer out.  Also the very productive birth of this blog, tonight I plan to make a disgustingly healthy green soup, become soulful in yoga then get lost in the snuff sniffing world of Sherlock Holmes (the novella) , no more nothing is in full swing. 

Time to blog, I've always loved writing, I keep a journal, my greeting cards are like war a piece and I have a knack for creating outrageous stories and putting them to paper.  With this background I went to uni and got a degree in, you guessed it, Journalism and arts, woo...

After this said degree I have worked freelancing, writing media releases, re-wording websites, blogging for other people.  All things that are fun but not quite me.  This is what this blog shall be, me.  Well me and the things I love, mainly my passion for food, wine, coffee, baklava, tea, happiness, honey and schnauzers, check out #marvintheschnauzer on Instagram to see why the last point is valid.

My friends have always pushed me to write a blog but it never felt like the right moments, excuses like; but the year has already started or but I just got back from holidays or the ever present "what if no one reads it?!?!?"  not so much procrastination, just waiting for the defiant moment that makes me go aha lets start this.  It appears this moment just happened and the day is today.

My 24th birthday is looming which also brings a trip to Singapore, perfect timing I thought double excuse to get typing! So I started this blog a week before such events, genius.

I have no real outrageous, life changing expectations from this humble blog, bar fame, fortune and maybe a little self discovery.  But I hope you enjoy reading this and I enjoy writing this, that is the key to everything after all, happiness.