Belt It Out

For whatever reason, I have some weird sense-memory of belts being really uncomfortable. The only reason I can think of for this is that at some point as a very small child I must have just…really done belts *wrong*.

Which is sad, because when belts are done¬†properly, belts are actually raelly good at holding up pants.They’re not uncomfortable at all. They’re just a friendly invention that’s been hanging around (as it were) for pretty much as long as humans have been wearing clothes.

Also, belts are like, super useful.

Is there a convenient bar over the vat of acid you’re about to be lowered into? Just loop your belt over that sucker and hang on. You’ll be all set to escape and save the day from evil and destruction in no time!

Are you in the middle of a dubiously placed barn in an otherwise empty field that also happens to be directly in the path of an oncoming mega-twister? That’s okay! Belt yourself to some rusted pipes, and you’ll weather that storm with ease!

Did your buddy catch some shrapnel to the leg? Belts make great field tourniquets!

Seat*belts*. Just saying. They save lives.

Do you need to tie a would-be burgler to a chair whilst you wait for the police to arrive! Belt that shit!

Need to get stuff from one place to another? Conveyor belt! (Or if a herd of giraffes wants to move from Venus to Terre Haute, Indiana. (Or if a herd of giraffes wants to move anywhere else, for that matter.))

Car belts keep your car running.

Fan belts keep your fan running.

Blackbelts are masters of martial arts.

Black belts keep your partner tied to the bed. ūüėČ

“Belt” is the only word that can be used to describe Idina Menzel at full power.

They’re super useful. They’re fashion accessories. They’re lifestyle indicators. They’re tools.

Today is Belt Appreciation Day in my world. Oh yeah.

 

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Walking Melbourne

I’ve been walking Melbourne a bit, trying to get a bit more familiar with the area I live in, and better with major streets/directions/etc.

I’ve found some really beautiful things.

Melbourne lands in the magical zone of perfection that manages to include both curry *and* burritos. The U.S.? Has burritos. The U.K.? Has curry.

Melbourne has *both*, and it’s beautiful.

 

To introduce a healthy dose of irony:

Melbourne has an Anarchy *club*.

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For a bit of history:

This area was originally founded by a dude whose surname was BATMAN.

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My fangirl heart pretty much explodes whenever I see things like this. (DC is a mess, but I think I’ll always be a Gotham girl.)

Getting, Losing, Lost but Won

I think that one thing I have learned from living such a transitory life is that when it comes down to it…pretty much everything can be replaced.

In my life, I have lost huge collections of music. I have lost sketchbooks that contained years of my art. I’ve lost poetry that I’ve cried for and bled for. I’ve lost worthless trinkets and expensive jewelry; and all of it was paid for with the grief of lost sentimentality.

This past year I have done virtually nothing but downsize my collection of material resources. It’s been hard, and I’ve spent a great deal of words trying to track down the origins of this difficulty within my own perspective.

It’s stuff. It’s all just stuff. Some of it is more important, some of it doesn’t matter at all.

In the end, it can all be replaced.

In the end, it’s really all okay.

It’s a chance for new priorities, every time. Is it something that I need? Is it something that I’m willing to pursue again? Or is it something I can let go; something that I can let go of, and reroute that energy toward a different arena?

I think that maybe one of the things that I’ve learned this year is that sometimes life hurts, and that’s okay. Life hurts, and hurting can be beautiful, and hurting can lead to new walks and new friends, and new places that the me who had never been hurt might never have had the courage to explore.

 

 

Christmas In Melbourne

Today, I went to ¬†a picnic in the park (and I only got a teeny bit sunburned, and it was because I missed a spot. (No matter how thorough I think I am, I always miss *one spot*.)) There was skateboarding and yoga and white wine and mangos. There were people from Italy, Israel, and Poland. I met up with folks I new and met folks I hadn’t seen before.

It was beautiful and warm and so, so wonderful.

Merry Fucking Christmas, Bitches.

I’m spreading Holiday Cher.

Holiday Cher

But…I suppose, if you want another “e” in your life, this might count as cheer?

I Can Do That!

This morning, I had a morning shift at the cafe. ¬†I was working in the kitchen, helping the chef make up the pans of lasagna for the day, and we were just kind of chatting about life, and he asks me “So, do you cook at home?” to which I respond something like “Oh yeah! I love cooking! I cook all the time!” and he said something like “What do you like to cook?” and then I go off about my past life as a hypo-allergenic, vegan-friendly, gluten-friendly baker.

He pauses for a moment, and then I remember that I am working in a vegan cafe.

He says “You can do vegan cake?”

I say “Hell yes I can!”

Then I made the largest freaking cake I have ever seen in my life (which is saying something, because my past life as a hypo-allergenic baker included a meter-long platypus cake and a seven-layer stag cake (which probably doesn’t actually count, because it collapsed like the Tower of Babylon on the kitchen table at about two in the morning on the night before it was to be presented, which I think might have been on of the most hilariously, tragically hopeless moments of my life).

Today was a bit last-minute, so vegan desert was the only option. On Friday, when the cafe is open, I’m in charge of gluten-free baking and vegan baking.

It’s like all that time I spent learning about cooking is actually becoming relevant to my life.

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Coffee Shop…coffee…

Today I began training on how to use one of the giant, vaguely terrifying, does-everything-in-one-giant-freakishly-expensive-machine, coffee maker.

I have a list of coffee drinks that are on the menu, with copious notes taken about the differences between each one. I figure it might be easier to keep track of them if I actually drank coffee, but I’m just irreversibly a tea drinker, so I’ll just do it the hard way. (Though I’m not the only one learning the coffee machine, and every time we make one that isn’t quite at the level to be able to serve to a customer, the staff get dibs on it, so if we keep up at the rate we went today, I might very well acquire a taste for coffee, because there was a rather a lot of it being passed around today.)

Additionally, things have different names here in Australia than what I’m used to from the States. A “flat white” or “long black” aren’t names that would appear on a menu in the U.S.

I’m learning about milk-steaming techniques, and how to draw foam designs.

I know I’ll have graduated from coffee-making school when I can draw a unicorn in a latte. (And I hereby promise to post that picture when ¬†I make that happen. Oh yeah!)

A Bit of Christmas History

In case you are unaware of the true origins of Christmas…

youtube managed to get Kristen Stewart to explain to the Internet.

So clearly, this is all completely, totally, 100% scientifically correct.

‘Cause it’s the internet. And the internet would never lie.

Coffee Shop Living

I started my new job today. This one feels a lot more right then the last one. Working as part of a street team always felt…a little bit dirty and far more predatory than I was comfortable with.

Now  I work in a cafe. My job is keeping folks happy and fed, and that is something that has long since become a part of my self-identity. I love making food and being able to share it with other people. Cooking is such a huge culture, and this one is one that I feel like I understand on the level of instinct.

In the back we crank up the radio and dance as we wash dishes. In the front we chat with patrons and each other. It’s all about smiling and¬†food.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in such an international crew before. The head barista, Timothy Jones, is Australian. There was a girl named Leah from “near the Black Forest” in Germany, a girl named Zam who’s from London (I was super excited to meet her, because I found out I’ve reached the point where I’m able to place the different accents from around the U.K. Go me!) The sous-chef is a man named Keith who speaks four languages and is originally from Malaysia. There’s a girl named Amanda who’s from Zimbabwe, and a boy named Kahn (which, okay, yeah, probably isn’t *actually* spelled that way, but my Trekkie heart will spell it that way until directly corrected.) and two¬†Muhamads; one from Iran and one from Lebanon. I’m the North American representative rounding it out.

It’s amazing food, and amazing people, and I’m so excited to be there.