The Contingency Plan

There are a few traditions my family keeps when one returns from an overseas trip:

1. We'll always have a cup of tea/coffee and a snack at the airport, no matter how exhausted. They could serve us water and we'd still sit there, revelling;

2. All gifts and purchases are unpacked almost immediately. Making an extravagent mess is mandatory;

3. Naps are necessary - sympathic naps for those who haven't travelled, unless 'to the airport' counts; and

4. Cooking is a no-no. Take away or a relaxing meal somewhere local where they don't mind the almost offensive tiredness and meaningless conversation of those truly jetlagged is key.

I always find the second ritual an interesting one as the gifts are similar to a lucky dip prize. For instance, amongst the gaudy watches, pink and black herringbone miniskirts and fake designer bags will be a natural, five carat blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds or a truly exquisite tea set, hand crafted with detailed dragons.

This year Mum took quite a sentimental and cryptic route with her gifts and I'm amazed at how my sister and I were naturally drawn to certain pieces over others.

One of them is an ancient Chinese-style lock on a simple silver chain and the design of the piece instantly resonated with me. Natasha thought it was cool, but to me, it was more. There was something I intrinsically liked about it.

Mum also brought back three bracelets, simillar in design, but all bespoke. One for each of us. The pieces were formed by using an old Chinese style of jewellery-making with a silver chain holding together a large, carved piece of jade and a charm. My sister chose the one she liked best and my later choice was simple.

Mum then made a comment about fate as the charm on my bracelet was a match to the lock. I looked and she was correct.

I paused for a moment and Mum then reminded me of a silver necklace I wore for years as a young girl. It was actually her piece but I loved it so much that she passed it on. As a girl, I remember trying it on whenever she would get ready for a night out with Dad. It was the only time I was allowed. She always looked so beautiful, so womanly and glamorous and it filled me with hope. The necklace was my mother, her heritage and how it felt to be a little girl growing up in Sydney and learning about a culture that seems so foreign yet so familiar all the same.

We somehow lost the necklace and never knew how or when. I haven't thought of it at all over the years. The shape of it is the same as the lock and the charm today, except the silver was much thinner. I feel like I've recovered something indescribably precious from my past.

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My experience today reminded of an article I recently read on the meanings and magic we give inanimate objects. Who would've thought that the piano John Lennon composed "Imagine" on would mean so much on tour in Waco, Oklahomo City, New Orleans and Virginia Tech?

One of the first points made in the article is that anything can be sacred. It's not the object that matters, but the unique history we have with it that makes it sacred. To paraphrase, think of wedding bands, safety blankets children have, etc.

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In a concealed compartment in my jewellery box lies a small plastic hospital band with my name, date of birth, and 'male' written on it. The tag was wrapped around Hugo's left leg for the first three days of his life. Nearly lies an emerald from a ring that Dad bought for my mother. It was an anniversary present we spent weeks researching. It was the first time Dad took my opinion seriously and also reminds me of translating my mother's words and emotions onto cards for those special occassions.

In my kitchen, there's a very thin, smooth and dark rolling pin. It belonged to my grandmother and she used it to make dumplings. It was the only precious item Mum brought with her to Australia and for over 25 years, she has also made dumplings with the very same rolling pin. It's now my turn.

And hanging in my wardrobe is the dress I wore when I first met Luc. I haven't worn it since and although it's still waaay too small, I can't bring myself to give it away. It doesn't just represent Luc, but reminds me of first love and how it billows.

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So. Do you agree with these sentiments? And if so, what are some of your sacred pieces and the stories behind them?

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As a parent with shared custody, I often fight the desire to keep Wolf always entertained. Playgroup, play dates, playgrounds, the zoo, toy shops, books. It's as if every moment has to be special and engaging and yesterday I rebelled.

While preparing lunch, I was reminded of my own childhood and the games that resulted from boredom... I spent hours picking leaves and flowers from neighbourhood gardens to sell (often back to those whose flowers I had "borrowed"). Branches that fell from our beautiful Jacaranda tree became mini microphones. Old pieces of cardboard boxes transformed into chalkboards for when I taught my poor (younger) brother at "school".

It wasn't mum's job to keep life interesting, it was her job to keep us fed, healthy, protected and warm. We had to come up with the rest.

..
Thinking about all of this lead me to examine my own life and how much I shun boredom, especially when I'm alone. We all seem to do it in some form or another; we're all so busy (isn't this the usual response to the question of, "how are you?" these days?). And even if this is genuinely the case, should we be scheduling in time for nothing? Is it really that absurd? Are we that addicted to feeling busy and virtually connected?

And then on the flip side, we all seem so 'bored' with aspects of life. I'm bored with television, with the music on the radio, with household chores; others are bored with their job or the monotany of daily routines. We're consistently seeking new inspiration and greater distractions.

I was discussing these ideas with a friend recently and was intrigued by his response:

"I don't think it's a matter of needing to be busy but a sense that I need to be productive, almost like I'm timesheeting my personal life. When I went to Paris last year, I got the impression they don't focus as much on productivity as a means to accumulating things. Their coffee shops are always full, even in the middle of the morning. Sure, they're probably behind certain countries industrially, but no wonder they're known for romance and creativity - they actually have the time to breed it!"

So I started thinking back to my childhood in relation to my friend's comments and wondered whether boredom and inactivity actually fosters creativity. It kinda makes sense to me as your mind would have the freedom to roam and explore ideas, free of activity and obligations. When I'm not doing anything I have the time to examine my life and new possibilities.

And, here's really a thought, would I consider things in more depth if I responded differently to my boredom? For instance, instead of distracting my boredom with more activity or expecting others to inspire me, should I pay attention to it, sit still, do some research and think a little harder (God forbid!)?

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I'm not one to suggest an answer to things, this is more an exploration of ideas, but am I challenged to be ok with doing nothing. And to feel comfortable with turning off my phone on the weekends, with the social exposure I'll feel when I just walk down the street (sans phone calls and iPod) and then there's the challenge of accepting loneliness and boredom as positive things in my life that will hopefully inspire creativity and other good things.

Hm...

Any thoughts or are you all too busy??

How much is too much?

Wolf needs some funky new threads and I'm tired of Target so I've found some fantastic pieces online but have been blown away a little by the prices, even if Luc goes in half. After all, he's only three years old and will get around a year's wear out of these items. Perhaps a year and a half if we're lucky.

For instance, even though these jeans are made by a funky French label and are the best skinny legs I've seen around, would you pay $149 for them?













And although I ADORE this jacket, is it worth a $175.00 price tag?













How about this really divine little hand knitted vest for $69?













Or this cute little cardi for a cool $119?












These four items alone would set me back a whopping $512.

And even though I'm almost tempted, it just doesn't seem right.

Do you agree?

Wow, I'm really amazed at how much my thoughts have revolved around the opposite sex.

Sure, I've been "quite content" as a single gal, but since my resolution last night to ban courting attention, my thought patterns around this other species has been highlighted.

I think about boys all the time.

It influences the way I walk (ok, strut), the eye contact I have with people when I'm out, I'm consistently and quite sub-consciously examining most men I come across to determine whether I'd hypothetically like them, I flirt over email, actually, I flirt all the time. I love flirting....

But no, focus Kazumi!

This has been quite a revelation to me. I'm sincerely challenged to focus on other things now like being with friends, dancing, working, writing (I'm thinking of contributing to a magazine that I love), refining my interiors, expanding my music collection... In all of this, a thing that has comforted me is that I don't dress for men. No, clothes have become such a personal expression for me since loosing all of my weight. This brings me such joy.

But not as much as flirting.

Isn't this a recurrent theme with this blog - not knowing where to start, feeling like so much has changed yet unable to succinctly express the personal significance of it all?

The past few weeks have been momentus. I guided two major launches to great success at work, possibly two of the biggest projects in the industry and did myself (and the company) proud. I can't say too much about the campaigns without giving them away, but they were defining moments that seemed to reshape how I see myself. People at work certainly see me differently. I'm suddenly consulted on a wide range of issues have broadened my speciality to a whole new arena. I'm so damn proud of myself and these achievements make me really marketable now, not just locally but internationally too, and there's already talk of a promotion. It's exciting stuff, even though I'm still exhausted!

So much of my existence has focused around work lately. Sunday was my first day off in three weeks and I spent the day lounging in the yard with Wolf. He's suddenly changed and acquired a new maturity. I find myself staring at him for long periods of time, re-familiarising myself with him and his new mannerisms, expressions and words. I don't like it, but have accepted this is our new life. Sometimes I find it hard to consistently re-adjust - from senior management at work, to a single gal on the town, to a mother who relishes time with her son and simple things like bathtime, stories and bedtime.

In fact, I think this consistent re-shuffling is becoming a bit much. There are people who I work with and go out with, who have no idea I'm a mother. I'm in no way ashamed of motherhood, it's quite the opposite, I keep certain things personal to quietly relish. I still struggle with the excess space in my life/heart when Hugo isn't around and putting myself out there, especially to acquaintances, is too much.

Perhaps very connected to this, is a recent decision (ok, tonight) to quit dating. I know I've made mention to this in the past, but this is official. I went on a blind date tonight, my first official date since my disastrous dating bonanza of last year and wow, I'm really not ready for this. I absolutely freaked out beforehand but kept my word and was determined to be a gracious date. The guy was such a gentleman. We had drinks and after our third beverage, I let out my realisation and although he was disappointed, we continued to have a good night, went for dinner afterwards, I drove him home and it was all absolutely pleasant.

So, I'm enforcing a boy-ban for the next three months. During this time, I will not court any male attention. I will not actively look for a date or a boyfriend or a casual fling. I fear I lack the disposition to make wise decisions and the fact that Jack may possibly be back in my world is solid proof of this. We were suppose to catch up last week (I cancelled) and then this week (he had to fly to London for work) and the point that I fear and wholy anticipate the repercussions of our meeting, given what he did to me all those years ago, is really quite sadistic... I don't even know if he's still single... If I were to be painfully honest, I'm looking great and feeling confident (but certainly not cocky) these days and was an overweight, hormonal mess the last time he saw me (sure, I'd just given birth, but still!). Jack always wanted to explain what happened between us and never did and perhaps I'm very niavely wanting to claw back something.

Three months will take me to just over a year since Luc and I separated.