none of my cousins read my blog... yet

Mark is in the driver’s seat, Dad’s next to him. Mum and I sit in the back; trying to calm Mark and negate Dad’s unintentional pressuring at the same time. We all look and smell nice. Well, I don’t know how nervous/sweaty Mark became whilst driving us there (L-plates shouting “yellow” and “watch me”, the Renault insignia screaming “I’m supposed to be driven by someone sophisticated and European… or by a man having a mid-life crisis”), but he wasn’t overly odourous later on. It’s the 23^rd of December and a Sunday early evening. We pull up at the White House and de-car. Mark hands the keys to the valet…

Okay so there wasn’t actually a valet service, although that would have been really cool. And it’s not the actual White House… that would have been quite a long drive. We’re at my Aunty and Uncle’s house in Balwyn (think the next Toorak). It’s massive and grand and white, therefore I have coined it the White House. Anyway, we’re there for a Christmas dinner… two days before Christmas. Unconventional, but I’m not going to complain about getting presents early! Scored a new shaver and Will & Grace Season 4 on dvd. Not because I haven’t made a big enough deal about it already, but just because I enjoy mentioning it, my brother got a hair straightener. :) Sorry Mark, but maybe if you read this more often you’d be spared from me revealing embarrassing tidbits about your life. Wait, why am I addressing him if he doesn’t read this?? I suppose there are ways in which he can be forced to read…

To be continued.....

Merry Christmas to you all. Have a great day with lots of presents and good cheer. :)

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Part 2

Since my last post Mark has now generously straightened my hair twicely, and I must say I have grown quite fond of the device. Any mockery implied previously is withdrawn immediately. So we're at my aunt and uncle's house for the Stephens side of the family Christmas shindig. In attendance are:

• Cousin Lauren, 19, and her boyfriend of some time Lachie, 20.
• Cousin Sean, 17, and his leggy friend Katie, 17.
• My aunt and uncle. :P
• Mum, Dad, Mark, Me, Grandma.
• My aunt's mum, June, and June's twin sister Elaine.

So now you know who was there. And I'm realising how hard this is going to be to explain because no one really knows my family very well... Hmm.
Long story short-ish, Lauren, Sean, Lachie & Katie are like characters straight out of the new hit show on Fox8, Gossip Girl (kinda like the OC except in New York). "So and so said this...", "I'm going to such and such to see ...", "Can you believe that Celine...?!"

Pretty much you're no one until you're talked about. Mark and I just sit back listening in trying to glib information [is glib the right word?]. Occasionally the conversation will halt and we'll be asked a question. But whatever we say always magically spurns another stream of name-dropping and big talking. I'm mystified as to how they do it. Maybe I need more friends... No, they're just freaks. When I think about the amount of networking that must be necessary to keep them in their world of gossip and whatnot, I groan at the effort. Almost everyone I know complains about my lack of swiftness replying to SMSs and the like. I'd stand no chance. So I'll just sit here with my little blog, blogging away like a good little blogger, singing happy blogging songs as I type. (PS I got an ipod for Christmas. It's cool :D Although I suppose it was kind of a slowish acquisition... They've been around how long now?)

We ate salmon and chicken and potatoes and salad and Christmas Pudding and fruit mince pies and I had egg nog and it was yum! A little too yum. I found myself feeling a little extra festive for some reason... I can't quite place it. :)

I shouldn't really say all this stuff about my cousins without mentioning that I went through a period in about year 7-8 when I was really close to Lauren and I really enjoyed her and her friend Harriet (who I dated :P)'s company. And I've been going to the football with Sean with Dad and my uncle for years, and we had some good times/talks and stuff. So yeah, I like em, they're just different. But different isn't something to be afraid of or to unwarrantedly dislike.

Wrote a poem today. ...Felt like I should make it known that I am writing some things in my holidays. Story is kind of stuck again. Although I keep having ideas which is encouraging, should really write them down...

That shall do.

Happy New Years to you!

Dale.

Confrontation

There we were, Brenton and I, in the leafy, ferny, creek-y, mountainous Dandenongs. We'd reached the top of the 1000 steps and wandered along Tyson's Track. Through the unsettling sap-bleeding trees is a spectacular view that stretches further than any elastic band ever could. Water bottles in hand, and air once again in our lungs, we were almost back at the summit of the arduous steps (which seem a lot less evil on the way down), ready to descend.

"Is that a kookaburra?"

A small brown bird-looking creature was standing motionless in the middle of the path ahead of us. Little did we know, it would be the most fearsome kookaburra that ever lived. As we approached it, getting closer and closer, it didn't move an inch. It just stood there staring us down. We stopped about 3 or 4 metres from it. A stand-off of epic proportions ensued, a la Gandalf's "You shall not pass!", the kookaburra being Gandalf. In an act of sheer courage, I threw my water bottle just next to it, hoping it would fly away. The Gandalfburra didn't blink an eye. Resilient, fearless, it continued to block our path. Brenton, realising that my water bottle was now probably lost for all eternity, tried splashing it with the water from his. His efforts, too, were futile. We were beginning to lose hope. Turning back was not an option, we had travelled too far on weary legs.

Somehow, heroically, Brenton scooted past (thanks largely I think to a diversion created by me). He retrieved a dead branch from the ground and used it to roll my water bottle towards him. Then I mustered up the courage to confront the gallant bird-wizard and in a mental power-struggle/battle involving concentration and squinting, I passed through the forcefield and onto the other side.

But in all seriousness, we became quite worried for the poor bird. It was clearly in a severe case of shock, and looked as if it were quite young. I wasn't sure if it was blind, couldn't fly, or had been abandoned by its mother or something. There really wasn't much we could do for it though. At least it got some water when Brenton splashed it. I hoped that the wrong kind of people wouldn't come across it and well... You can imagine the rest. It was just such an odd sight/experience. We looked back at little Gandalf as we walked away, but it didn't move whilst it was within our sight.

Dale.

Hehe

A little bit of Family Guy can brighten up any day.

How well do You know You?

I have this perception of myself - of how I like to think that I am. My attributes, qualities, quirks, etc. But how reliable is that view? Isn't it inherently biased? Because if you think of yourself positively, you'll be happier right? Am I ignorant to the real Dale? Do I have glaringly obvious flaws that everyone can see except myself? Or am I somewhat conscious of them but in some kind of beneficial denial? A lot questions, but I think questioning is what could shed some light on the answer.

I'd say I'm a pretty positive person 95% of the time, believing the best about myself and others. But when I learn that I've been hurting the people closest to me, and not even realising it, it shakes me up! It's made me try to step outside of myself and suss out what's going wrong; I've taken off my rose-coloured glasses so to speak. It'll make life less fun in the short run, but however difficult it is, I hope it's ultimately for the best. So far I haven't found anything that I would be able to change, and it may be that I end up not changing anything at all at this point in my life. It might just need to happen by itself.

Whatever.

Bleh.

"Dale"

PS. It's me with my mum's glasses on for those who couldn't see through my brilliant disguise. :)