Ciao,
Sì, amici miei, io sono fluente in italiano, la lingua dell'amore.
Thanks to apps and the internet... I was pretty much Italian... for about a minute and a half.
You know it seems I save all my innermost crap up these days and blast you all with one annual epic blog. It's really not going to help me in my goal to make this a full time career right? Meh... who am I kidding... you guys are too smart, you all know that's just a recipe for me to slop around in my PJ's. But NO!
Life is totally different... things have changed... I've LIVED, I've been on an O.E.! TWICE! I've been single for what seems like freakin' FOREVER. 'Ish. But miserable I am not... SCORE. Lonely sometimes, questionable libido (we'll leave it at that shall we...) but relatively sane.
How can a *gulp* middle-aged woman - scratch that - start again...
How can a *gasp* super attractive, sexy, smart, funny, caring middle-aged woman be even partially close to sanity when spinsterhood is a very real prospect?
Well the answer is: Just coz.
Simple as that. I have not given up on love, I have not given up on meeting my destined lifelong side-kick one day - in fact I believe in it more now than ever. And you know I'm glad I met who I met, broke from those that tried to break me, fell in, fell out, got pulled in every direction and position known to the universe... because it proves that the fear of being alone, death or insanity is complete horseshit and I should have got over myself eons ago.
So in true Stylz nature... I wouldn't be here if I didn't have something to say... and boy do I have a doozie for you...
You know how I come on here and I ramble and rhyme and make you laugh till your bladder explodes and your face melts, with my musings and brain farts and ridiculous life lessons that truly are lessons and freakin' entertaining... well the scary thing is...I thought I'd dried up. Honest I got really concerned! Spending 50-plus hours a week in a poorly air-conditioned corporate swirl of drama and strategy will do that to a creative. The only flare in my week is how I can make the fruit bowl look like a still-life.
I DIGRESS - (I must confess... this is the direct result of a recent diagnosis of M.M.V.D. "Multiple-Museum-Visitation-Disorder", picked up innocently while casually travelling in the EU. As you do when you're like, on your O.E. and shit. There is no known cure, don't judge me. However it can be contagious when in confined spaces like bus-loads of stupid Americans but easily treatable with pretend crap like Netflix and Apple TV. Nashville you are my guilty secret but how I luff you...) CARRY ON...
The thing is... I have so much material from the last year or so I can't understand how it hasn't poured from me like lava... and I'm talking goood shit... Great in fact... if it wasn't for what I can only describe as not writer's block (that's when you get an advance from a publisher then sit on your arse picking lint hair out of your bellybutton and can't even string a fake sentance together because you're a loser). So no it's more like a change - so much going on in your life and head and heart and you become this fiery vessel of over-sensitized madness and you just cannot cool down long enough to get the words out - Literacy Menopause my friends - it's real and it's killing my craft. After a while of unintentional suppression, it becomes this big lump... stuck sort of halfway between my esophagus and aorta... like... well kind of like... okay lemme try and explain...
Like a hairball. A dry, choking, tangle of words and memories and feelings that's jammed up in their refusing to dislodge no matter how much I purge. You have no idea how many times I have metaphorically shoved my fingers down my throat to spew forth this amazing web of experience I have been carrying around for 15 months and this is my umpteenth attempt so I implore you... stand with me and................hold my hair back... because kids I just found my mojo and she's gonna blow.
So it all started way back when I made the catastrophic decision to 'get a flatmate'. (I should have just got a dog they are WAYYY easier to deal with and clean up after). Said flatmate had a wee tradition..."Man Tuesday". Where smelly boys would gather in some stinky man-cave in the bowels of West Auckland, smoke, drink, scratch, talk shit and drive drunk.
Sounded like fun.
So me and the girls decided on a wee twist and developed the "Chick Chewzday". It started off all innocent, a glass of wine, doing nails, actually HAVING it on a Tuesday. Then of course it just evolved. As men are creatures of habit, women are all over the place. We like to mix things up... sometimes we don't even DO our nails... we just carry all the nail shit in from the car, precariously balancing the compulsory alcoholic beverage on top and talk about how those said man-habits or lack thereof really piss us off... it's totes awesome.
One night, when we were actually doing our nails, we got off-topic and my friend Rachy says "I'd love to do an OE. I've always wanted to do an OE."
"Me too."
"Shall we?"
"F*ck it. Why not."
And that is how it all began... in late May 2014 two OE virgins embarked on 6.5 weeks of cherry-popping-carnage. 17 countries, multiple cities, planes, trains, buses, blisters and bruises. A rooftop fling, a bellissimo penpal, and many, many delicious and dodgy experiences with amazing people. It was chick chewzday that lasted a month-and-a-half and man we had a ball. So much so that when I came back, I was a shadow of my former self (like skinny-as), broke but richer in so many ways. I felt amazing - confident, kind, happy, content and I did not want to lose that feeling... so while I still had the helium high of travel, a few weeks after I got back I went to an expo and I booked another trip. I am so bad-ass.
But alas, despite the excitement of the pending OE-Take-Two and my new found European style... toward the end of the year I kinda lost my way again. I briefly and sporadically forgot who I was... (well I knew my name and address - barely) but I was gutted - I had spent such a wonderful time actually getting to know the girl inside and liking her that by Christmas it all seemed like some foggy weird version of a Love Actually sequel mashed with a bit of Under the Tuscan Sun, Letters to Juliet, Braveheart and Shirley Valentine. All I wanted to do was jump that plane and get the fark outta Dodge. Somehow though, I clung on through the mad season and then suddenly, 2015 hit and despite my reservations and trepidation, it was an entirely different beast and a totally unexpected vibe.
I was OK. I wasn't broken or damaged. I had not 'fallen off the self-esteem wagon'. I wasn't an Iron Maiden or a cold hard bitch. Admittedly I was a bit pissed because the soul cause of the slight bump in my road was actually others haunted by ghosts of Stylz past that figured I HAD fallen off the wagon and tried to aim for the puddles rather than cheer me on to the footpath. Haha - so fooled you bitches.
Anyhoo... the first 5 months of the year progressed... but something had shifted. Yeah I was stoked to be hitting the skies again but the essence of the trip - planned in that helium haze of euphoric self-absorption - wasn't looking as well-thought out as what I had initially desired it to be. But! In true kiwi fashion "she'll be right" kicked in and on I went... still excited, still confident, still, like, sticking to the plan... still err 'boxing on'... wooooh, yeah, lookin' forward to it... yep, you betcha. *gulp*.
Who was I kidding. I was scared shitless.
The trip essentially was broken into 3 pieces, the beginning and the end bits I was cool with - it was the long 4-week stretch in the middle that had me thinking "what am I doing? Heck I could change this... oh but I'm invested now I have to see it through... no I don't I can do whatever the hell I want! I better do that though aye...". What a muppet. Still I DID do it, I stuck to the plan... and I lived it fully every single minute of every single day.
And that was how it went... leading up to departure - and return actually. It was a roller coaster of senses, emotions and experiences that I will never forget and they will never forget me. Along with those other thousands of little things that you know will resonate inside your soul for eternity, that make you smile, cringe, gasp, blush and laugh all at once and when you roll them all into one they answer that 64 thousand dollar question heard by all travelers but entirely unanswerable on the spot: "Soooo... what was the highlight!!!"... well. You asked... :-
1) Window seat - busting to pee. Bear Grylls couldn't figure his way out of the tangled web of blankets, headphone cables, tray tables, cups of water and large snoring males - but I did.
2) Man-made tranquility - sleepy stopover in Singapore airport... too scared to snooze though in case some dick pinched my stuff.
3) Buying an 'airline approved' carry-on - successfully carrying said carry-on a total of 2 flights. (Apparently it is only airline approved when the baggage compartments are empty - go figure.)
4) Guilt-free bread and cheese for breakfast. When in the Netherlands... you shall not be judged.
5) Old friends are like comfy slippers... even though we're old and stinky we just feel so damn good. New Friends are those slippers you just wanna dirty up and wear in till they're there, all together, in a smelly heap in your closet. Bliss. I love me some worn-in slippies.
6) Too many Heinekins a cyclist does not make. But try telling me that... whilst hooning into "Cottingham Corner".
7) "Mamma Mia". Great icebreaker - it sounds funny to Italians when I say it. If only they knew the truth.
8) Limoncello - followed closely by espresso and Grappa. After several litres of wine, and maybe just a splash of Prosecco.
9) Traditional Italian cooking. Like by a real Italian Mamma, in the south of Italy. For real.
10) Language Barriers - like with the real Italian Mamma, in the south of Italy. For real. And the Papa and the Sister etc, etc.
11) Blue sky, heat, beauty, people, places
12) Sometimes Barcelona has this weird farty smell (no... don't even suggest it you filthy mongrels - its true!...)
13) I heart Firenze. The 2014 version - the 2015 upgrade sucked.
14) Pizza. Naples. NOM. In fact FOOD - Naples. Well... food Southern Italy, end of.
15) Mary, Mother of God. (forgive me)
16) The golden glow of the street lamps walking through Roma at night... the odd casual wiff of pee...
17) Luke Wilson is really little in real life... apart from the nose.
18) A pool and a pub both in my back yard. No one giving a crap I'm in a bikini. Especially me...
19) Cuban cigars - make your hands look small and your face look stupid but they are worth every suck...
20) I am absolute shit at goodbyes.
21) Burritos rock.
22) The cost of MAC makeup in NZ is friggin' criminal.
23) I put flowers in my hair in San Francisco - plastic ones of course, and where the Kiwi says: "what the fark were you thinking?" the baked Californian says: "Woah, you look so pretty - are you getting married?" No. "Okay cool wanna score some weed?" umm no, but thank you "Okay cool... more for me - times three!! Peace out ladies...". See? Now THAT's a conversation...
24) I'm grateful that the Deadheads embraced us - I wish I could return the favor but hey the garlic fries were awesome. The music never stopped - except for that one time... Peace out.
25) "Hey man you wanna a beer? Yeah I'll go... no, its ok I'll go... Hey you don't wanna miss the show its like their last everrrr and the music NEVER stops man... oh yeah... hey, no problem - I'll go during the 2 hour INTERMISSION like the other 65,000 people". Said the 64,998 Deadheads around us.
26) UBER. Except that one time...
27) Not only can you wear flowers in your hair and walk the street with feather boas around your neck you can MARRY WHOEVER YOU DAMN WELL WANT! (if I hashtagged it would be: prideweek - I was there!)
28) No I did NOT see Alcatraz. Boom! Go me travellin' all against the grain and shit! Told you - I'm bad-ass.
29) The Haight. 4:20. Totally educated me.
30) I miss Janis.
31) Sonoma County people have great taste in wine, entertainment and... people.
32) Convertibles, top down, in almost 40 degree heat does not suck.
33) Hot air balloons are freakin amazeballs. They like float all up in the air and stuff and you can see for miles and miles and milesssss (see 6 days in the states and I've lost all my metric capabilities - not that I had any).
34) Breakfast Burritos
35) I want to go back in 2016 - Shhhhh don't tell anyone - especially not them damn yankee doodles...
36) I actually take some pretty stunning photos if I do say so myself...
Oh and did I tell you I got a puppy? Say Hi to Nix ("Nixy") Cottingham-Stylz
Said stunning photo - Sperlonger in Southern Italy
And me... Well I'm not doing too shabby for me almost mid-40's if I do say so myself... and in a few months... you can call me "Glam-Ma"
Peace out.
Stylz xxx
