List Vs. Knowledge

Some days, you are absolutely on top of the world. The weather matches your outfit, the trains are running on your schedule and your favourite song is playing on the radio. These are beautiful days.

Or maybe, it’s not quite so obvious. Perhaps the sun isn’t shining as much as you’d prefer, and you couldn’t make it to coffee with your friend, but when you take a breath, the world is still spinning your way.

It’s these days, when you can just list *all* of the things that you’re good at.
Let’s be real. Everybody’s good at a lot of stuff. Some people are *masters* of a few things, and some people are surprisingly good at a surprising amount of things. (And a lot of people are probably combinations, or somewhere on a spectrum or something.)
List days are awesome. (Though, I must say, I highly recommend that next time you realize you’re having a List Day, take a few hours out and update your CV. Your future self will appreciate it *so* much.) The days when you don’t even have to think about it, you don’t have to qualify your talents. You can just rattle them off one by one.
“Yes. I can do this. I can do that, too.”
It’s freaking awesome.
There are also days of knowledge.
These are the opposite of List Days.
These are the days when it doesn’t matter what’s on the list of things you can supposedly do, because *you* know that half the things on there don’t really count, and you’re sort of stretching what you can actually do.
These are the days when you just know that…yeah, you may have said that, but it was glossing over how hard it was, and how far it was from perfect. These are the days when you may have signed up for something, but you *know* that someone else out there is probably better for the job. These are the days to avoid looking at your CV, because you’ll read through it and know that about 80% of the crap on there is hyperbole to make yourself sound better.
List Days are *awesome*, but I don’t think anybody has those all the time. That’s okay. The most important thing is that when you’re having a Day of Knowledge – don’t edit your CV. Don’t tell your boss you can’t do it.
Just take a deep breath, take care of yourself, and know that it will come around again, and you’ll be back on top of things. It’s all just balance, and it’ll work out.

A Bit Of Irony

Last night, at Misty’s American Diner, I was introduced to Greek-style coffee.


Holy crap it’s amazing.

Seriously. It’s incredible. It’s the smoothest coffee I’ve ever had. This is actually the first coffee that I’ve been able to say that I actively *like* rather than tolerate. It is *SO* GOOD.

Greek-style coffee is very different from other styles of coffee because the beans are ground into a very fine powder  rather than the grains that go into a filter. The powder is then mixed directly into water in a small pot. If you take sugar, this is when it’s added.

Then the coffee/sugar/water mix is placed over heat until it begins to bubble up. It doesn’t boil exactly, but it begins to thicken.

When this has happened it’s ready to pour. It’s actually a bit stronger than espresso, so it’s put into small cups (and traditionally served with a shot of licorice liqueur apparently, but we were at work, so none of that for us). Then the coffee is left to settle for about three minutes. This is to allow the “mud”, which is the term used by our lovely coffee-maker to describe the coffee mixture that then sinks to the bottom of the cup.

Apparently this style of coffee can be used to tell the future, like tea leaves.

It’s freaking amazing.



*Bonus Irony! I’m a fry chef. My boss’s name is Oil. Literally. No exaggeration needed. It’s kind of beautiful.

Cooking Accompaniment

Sometimes when one is cooking



the perfect music comes on.


Oh yeah. Check that out. It’s in the dictionary under “Classy”. Clearly the highest budget music video ever created.


I love Erasure. So much. It’s probably a problem.


Shout Out To You!

I woke up this morning to the most delightful surprise:


So, this is me taking a moment to extend my truest, most sincere thanks to all of you who take time out of your lives to read about mine.

This blog has been something that I’ve found so much joy and comfort in. You guys are always there for me with encouraging remarks when I need them. Even if I never hear a word from you, the fact that you’re there is so incredibly meaningful to me.

I’m approaching the first anniversary of Foxfinding, and honestly, I’m so excited to be able to continue being the Foxy Lady Finding Shiny Things to share with you all.

Thank you all.  You’re the best.



New Age Scrubbing

I kind of love closing at the restaurant. It’s actually one of the best things that I have ever actually gotten to claim as my job.


Well, because, mops are really kind of dirty, when you think about it, so Misty’s American Diner decided that, instead of using mops that get groudy and need to be replaced, let’s just…make everything water proof and pressure wash that shit every night.

It’s brilliant.

Only Ever Onward

I think I’ve been a bit…in mourning, this past week; as one does when future plans are suddenly ripped away.

I had rather been intending to make a go of it here in Australia. I was looking for permanent residency, but more than that I was looking for a place to build.

I have an entire page of notes (that I knew were a bad idea at the time of writing. Planning out a future in any way that includes notes is not allowing any space for my actual rather chaotic lifestyle to come in and muck things up) where I thought about exactly what kind of a space I wanted to have here in Melbourne.

In my notes I called it “The Nest”. That’s what I wanted.

The last place I lived in was called The Castle. This originally stemmed from the term “Ten Pound Castle” (which is a term for stone Tower Houses in Ireland. They were built by lesser royalty at a time when building a giant stone turret to use as a home only cost ten pounds) but it meant something very different by the time I left.

It was my castle. My home, my place of safety. It was the refuge where I could find protection from the things in my life I was trying to separate myself from.

It was also, as much as I could make it, a place for other people to seek refuge. It was a place that was meant to be open to all, and home to those who needed it.

A Castle.

The Nest was going to be something else; an open place, a starting point from which to grow and take off. I was looking for a new home base, where I would have the space I needed to explore, but I could be secure when I needed it. It wasn’t meant to be the immovable stone of a castle, but still a shelter from any storms that would come.

That was pretty much as long-term as that plan was. The thing is, though, what I want hasn’t changed as much as the situation has.

I still want to be able to make a nest here. However, as I have found through all of my paperwork recently, there is no way to do that.

This week has been a bit like grieving, because all of the half-baked plans and what-ifs just got their skeletons removed.

There’s nothing actually wrong with that. (This is what happens when I live in my head too much. I forget extremely relevant facts and end up tripping on stairs that I would have known were there if I had only looked.)

I think it might be a little while longer before I have completely come to terms with this. (Additionally, I am by no means giving up on my possibilities of coming to live in Australia full-time. I am just now having to look into different paths to get there.)

Until then, though, I am starting to once again be excited about the possibilites of life.

Maybe having a steady address won’t actually work out for a few more years, but it just means there are other adventures to be having.

Not going one way simply means getting to go another.

So, here’s to the future; whatever it may bring.



I Have Become…One of *Those* Cat Owners

I thought “Ah, yes. I have no plans for the afternoon. Perhaps I shall take some of this time to curate my blog.” (That’s how I Think of it, in my head. It’s not writing on, or posting, it’s being “curated”. Like a museum of my life. Or something like that.)


Then, our darling house-cat (and I mean this not to be empahsized like “He’s a housecat” but in the way of “this cat has adopted this house, ergo he is the   house    cat.)


(I have now typed out/stared at the word “house” so long it’s sort of lost all meaning.)


Anyway, the darling house cat Oscar-The-Distinctly-Not-Grouchy, (sreiously. This cat had a personality replacement with a golden retriever or something. He just want to hang out and get belly rubs all the time. Or sleep on your head. That’s an acceptable use of time as well.) decided that he wanted to join me with my blogging.


It’s a bit difficult to type with a cat on one’s lap.



And just like that, I’ve become one of *Those* cat owners.

I’m sorry.

I’m so, so sorry.


(Except I’m not at all, really. So…yeah.)

Fried Food Frenzy

Okay, for all my talk about how everything at my new, delightful diner is fried?

They have these deep fried Oreos, right? But they’re not just Oreos. These Oreos get taken apart, a Reese’s Peanut Butter cup is shoved in the middle, and then they’re fried.


I want one.

I haven’t had one yet, but I think it’ll be my First Paycheck Treat. (Because I think that splurging a bit with the first of the beginning of one’s regular paycheck is sort of completely delightful.)

I Am A Fry-Cook

I am able to leave the world of sales behind, and switch out my paintball tickets for a ridiculous hat.





It’s all a bit crazy, but I’m so excited to give this a go.

(Hopefully it won’t be anything like…this:)


I am now an American in Australia working at an American diner. (How’s that for irony, Alanis Morisette?)

So, a few things – or really maybe only one thing: I got this opportunity because I was making the decisions to chase my dreams. I was almost in Adelaide this week. I chose not to be. I got this job when a non-audition turned out to be exactly what I was looking for.

This is, to me, some seriously positive reinforcement from the universe-at-large.

Magical things happen to people in pursuit of their stars.



photo from *from

I Have Become A Tree-Killer (Pt. 2)

I realized that my last post was sort of…vague to the point of being obnoxious, and I remembered that this is *my* blog, so I can post whatever I want to. (It’s weird that I sometimes need to remember/be reminded of that.)

So; to de-vague-ify:

I am here in this beautiful country of Australia, which I am enjoying so very, very much, on a year-long visa. I found out recently that while there are many year-long visas that are very easy to extend…I don’t have one of those.

It’s frustrating because I am really, really happy to be here, and I would like to stay as long as I possibly can.

On another front, I think  I may have finally figured out something approaching a hazy outline for a life-plan that I think  could actually pull off and enjoy. Part of that hazy outline is the high probability at once again attempting University.

I feel like there might be a significant difference this time in the way that I am not going to applying because A) “it’s what you do.” or B) I am looking to be involved with a resource of the university (like, say, a poetry slam team) and am required to be enrolled to do so.

This time I would be attending because I think I might have actually found a program that will allow me to explore all of the different things that I am interested in. Additionally, in Australia, a program is actually geared toward what you’re studying. There is no “Oh, I’m so glad you’re interested in theatre. Now lets set you up to take geology and algebra!”

That appeals to me as well.


So, where these two different aspects cross paths is in the attempt to qualify for a student visa to attend University here. I would be able to try a different education system, (*hopefully*) be enrolled in a program that I am truly inspired by, and I would get to stay within this amazing community that I’m finding here.

If only it were that simple.

Instead there’s mountains of red tape and…many dead trees.