So I stole this from Shalini, who stole it from a bunch of other people, and since then I’ve seen it everywhere, so apparently this is the grownup version of those endless questionnaires we used to post on MySpace, when that was a thing.

A. Age: 23

B. Bed Size: Queen, technically, but I inherited the mattress from my cousin and it’s only a full/double, so there’s a giant gap between the edge of the mattress and the bed frame. This is why I try to make my bed as often as possible, because at least when there’s a comforter on it you can’t (really) tell.

C. Chore that you hate: Laundry. Just so, so much. I live in an apartment, and although there is a communal laundry, it’s under the building so can only be used during the day and it costs $1.20 every time and takes forever and occasionally other people will leave slimy remnants of fabric softener in the machine and ugh I hate it I hate it I hate it.

D. Dogs: I want one. My building doesn’t allow pets. Neither do 99% of the rentals in my area. Sigh.

E. Essential start to your day: The internet. That sounds so sad, doesn’t it? But I check my emails and Facebook and Twitter when I wake up, and it helps me transition to awake-ness or whatever to lie in bed and just read for 30 minutes or so.

F. Favorite Color: Hmmm. I don’t know. I don’t think I have one?

G. Gold or silver: Silver. Or white gold. Or platinum. Yeah, platinum.

H. Height: 5’7″

I. Instruments that you play: Does the recorder count? Because they made us play that when I was 10. I don’t think I remember anything, though.

J. Job title: My email signature doesn’t even have a job title in it, just ‘Accounts Receivable’. This is mainly because I haven’t made up a “wanky job title”, to quote my boss. Basically I can call myself anything as long as it isn’t CFO or something.

K. Kids: I like them, particularly when they’re related to me, but I don’t have any because you’ve got to be freaking kidding me did you read about my incapacity to do laundry?

L. Live: In Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. I love it so much.

M. Mother’s Name: Mummy in my phone contacts. Mother when I’m referring to her to my dad. Mama when I want something.

N. Nicknames: Shockingly, Dinsdale is, in fact, a nickname. No, I don’t know what it means, either.

O. Overnight hospital stays: None. Well, technically there was about a week or so in 1988, but I was still kind of overwhelmed by the whole “no longer being in the womb” thing, so I can’t say I remember it.

P. Pet peeves: Dude. DUDE. You don’t want to go there. And you think I write too much as it is.

Q. Quote: “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.” – Robert Frost.

R. Right or left handed: Right.

S. Siblings: My sister would be 34 this year. OLD. She passed away in 1996, so I’m effectively an only child.

T. Turtles. (There wasn’t a T, so I’m making it up.) Here, have a picture:

U. Underwear: I own a lot, because of the aforementioned laundry hatred.

V. Vegetable(s) you hate: Um. A lot of them. I’m a really picky eater, although I try not to let people know. So yeah, if you ever invite me to dinner, try to think of what you’d serve your 4-year-old, and give me that.

W. What makes you run late: Oh, god, I don’t know. I don’t know! I swear, I try to be on time, I really do. It just… is not my thing.

X. X-rays you’ve had: Teeth. A lot.

Y. Yummy food that you make: Cake. Brownies. Cookies. Etc.

Z. Zoo animal: I haven’t been to the zoo in years. I remember liking the tigers, though.

In about September last year, I got so disgusted with the fact I could no longer fit into my (cute! often expensive!) clothes that I joined a gym and hired a personal trainer. My boss committed to join me at the gym after work, and we were going to go Monday to Thursday. And we did! For a while, at least.

Even in the mad pre-Christmas period I still kept up my weekly personal training appointment. And it worked. I lost weight, I toned up, and I put on dresses that I hadn’t worn in months. It was fantastic, and I loved that feeling of pride and confidence in myself.

And then I went home for the holidays. And I fell off the wagon in the most spectacular manner.

I don’t regret eating the way I did at Christmas. It was amazing, and rewarding, and I came back to work feeling amazingly relaxed. It was exactly what I needed at the time.

Unfortunately after falling off the wagon, I’m finding it impossible to get back on. I got sick, and I can’t seem to shake this cough. It means I haven’t been to the gym since December. My sweet tooth is back in full force, and the other night I ate most of a tube of Pringles as a pre-dinner snack. My clothes are tighter again, and I’m miserable.

So this is where you come in! Do you need motivation to get back into the healthy eating/working out groove, like me? I asked for help on Twitter, and got a few responses from people also looking for a support group. So I figured, why not make one?

If you’re interested, let me know what kind of thing you’re looking for. Do you want daily email exchanges? A hash tag? Would a deadline/competition help motivate you? I participated in Biggest Blogging Loser last year, but moved to Australia half-way through so never completed it. (I’m writing this on my phone, so can’t link directly, but search Jennie’s blog if you want more info on BBL. It was amazing to see the successes of participants!)

Want to be part of this? Comment or email me at dinsdale[at]dinsdaleatlarge.com. Let’s do this!

(I stole the idea of a to-do list, rather than resolutions, from Jennie.)

(Also, let’s not talk about how long it’s been, shall we? I, uh, had a tough few months. And then everything got better but by that time I was embarrassed and lazy. Onwards!)

2011 was a major year for me, in terms of big life changes. I moved countries, for the love. And it was scary and very very hard but also one of the best things I’ve ever done. So in comparison 2012 will probably be very boring, but I’m looking forward to it anyway.

2012 To Do List (in no particular order):

1. Run a 5K - not necessarily any kind of organised race; I’d be happy simply to run 5ks without stopping. Running has always eluded me – I get awful pains in my feet when I try, and I get winded after the first few yards. But since I’ve been going to the gym and working out with a personal trainer, I’ve been getting stronger, and I’d like to match that with aerobic fitness. I suspect that this goal may involve shelling out for some fancy running shoes.
2. Keep my apartment at least nominally clean 80% of the time. Don’t get me wrong, my apartment doesn’t look like it should feature on Hoarders or anything. But I feel much happier when it’s tidy, and surfaces are clear, and dishes washed etc. It doesn’t take much more effort but makes me feel much better, and I love coming home to a clean house.
3. Start an MPA. This is one of the scary ones on the list, because it involves saving several thousand dollars, and then giving it to a university. And of course it involves committing to said university for at least 5 years, because I’m going to have to do this degree one class at a time, as I can afford it. It’s big and scary but I think it will be worth it in the end, especially in terms of career options and future earning potential.
4. Look for opportunities to write. Even if it’s just writing more here. I miss writing, and although I know my career is probably going to go in a different direction, I’d still like to keep writing somehow.
5. Buy an iPhone. I’m putting this on the list simply because I’m planning on doing this next week, so at least I’ll be able to cross one thing off.
6. Travel somewhere for fun. By ‘fun’ I mean solely because it’s somewhere I want to go, not for a family event or something. I don’t know how likely it is that I’ll actually get to cross this one off, but it’s something to keep in mind over the year.
7. Save more money. Well, ok, I had good reasons this year for burning through my savings. But I’m considering moving in September, and that’s going to cost a lot, and I hate hate hate feeling anxious about money. So if I could just quit getting coffee or sandwiches or fruit every. damn. day. and start saving that money instead, I think I’d feel a lot more calm.

1. You know, in certain lights, in certain conditions like when you’re looking through a window and you can also see reflections on the window and there’s glare and you’re not really paying attention, you can mistake a pigeon for a tiny dinosaur.
2. Man, a baby’s cry is really just at that exact pitch, isn’t it, and especially when the place echoes, that you just want to go over there and grab the damn blankie that they’re screaming about and smush it right over their
3. I mean, aren’t they just precious little bundles of joy?
4. (Good save, Dinsdale!)
5. I really wasn’t as hungry as I thought.

One of the main things people know about Australia – apart from kangaroos and Steve Irwin – is the preponderance of GIANT-ASS CREEPY BUGS and other weird creatures that don’t exist anywhere else and probably shouldn’t exist even here.  I kid you not, on the concourse leading from the gate at Brisbane airport are a bunch of Vodafone billboards with pictures of the hundreds – HUNDREDS – of different spiders in Australia. (Side note: this is maybe not the best way to attract new immigrants to your company, Vodafone.)

Anyway, I was kind of prepared for the various creepy-crawlies, but also totally not. I will freely admit I hate anything with too many legs or not enough. Whilst I understand that spiders and flying things and crawling things and oh god what is it kill it kill it now things have their place in the ecosystem and are totally important and a vital part of God’s creation and so on, I also understand that we invented DDT. And even if we can’t use that anymore, it doesn’t mean we can’t still buy deadly poison in the supermarket in handy aerosol form, for with to kill the bugs.

Apparently I’m not allowed to kill this thing, though, because it eats the flies:

I apologise for the blurriness of the picture, but also not really because this thing is really big and you try standing that close to it for that long.

That, in case you were wondering, is located on the stairwell. Of the stairs you have to climb EVERY TIME YOU LEAVE THE APARTMENT. I swear it’s getting bigger. Also I’m fairly sure it’s trying to lull me into a false sense of security and is plotting one day to swoop down on me from above and eat off my face.

Also there are these:

Now, I know that lizards are not a uniquely Australian thing, but I think that LIZARDS EVERYWHERE perhaps is. I don’t know what kind of lizard this is, and I will admit that I have only seen this one once, but there are tiny lizards (called geckos) everywhere. There is even one, apparently, that basically LIVES IN THE APARTMENT. My cousin has even named it. I’m much more ok with geckos than I am with spiders, but still not ok enough that I would name one.

To give you some context, so you understand I’m not kidding about the whole ‘LIZARDS EVERYWHERE’ thing, I present this:

You can’t really make out the lizard in that photo, so I’ve been helpful and labeled it for you. Also the car and driveway, so you can understand that I had to walk right past it if I wanted to leave the house.

Oh, also also, the other day we were drinking wine on the balcony (I told you this would be a theme), and there was some kind of flying cockroach thing at the other end of the balcony. J was completely ok with it being there. Needless to say, I was not.

In summation: I am going to die a horrible insect-filled death.

(Ok, some of these observations are from the plane. But whatever, that counts.)

1.  On the plane my tray table was broken, meaning every time I tried to use my knife, my meal attempted to jump ship into my lap. I ended up trying to hold the tray table up with my knees. Now, I’m not a fancy person, so this wasn’t too different to my usual way of eating dinner – off a tray while on the couch. Although my couch doesn’t move around as much as a jet. And also has more legroom. So, you know, it was awkward.

2.  On the plus side: free wine!

3.  I should not be allowed to drink wine on a plane. (I really wanted to take a photo to show you why, but I thought taking photos of my crotch might be slightly disturbing for the guy next to me. I’m sure you can figure out the gist, though.)

4.  Anyone wondering why I moved: I was in a store and got talking to a guy behind the counter. He told me he had moved from New Zealand to Australia, and immediately started earning $10,000 a year more. Doing the same job. With the same company.

5.  The first few days I was here, it was hot, but in a totally manageable way. It was warm and sunny and I was really enjoying it. The last couple of days, however, it’s been at least 34 degrees Celcius, if not more. (That’s 93.2 degrees Fahrenheit, according to Google, and whilst I know that there are people in Florida who would scoff at my measly 93 degrees because don’t I know that it’s not hot until it’s at least 100 I will just say that 93 degrees is REALLY HOT if you’re not used to it getting above 82, like, ever, ok?) Yesterday I spent most of the day in a mall, because it was air-conditioned. The day before that I spent half the day standing under the air conditioner at home, much as a condemned man would stand before the judge who had just granted him clemency.

6.  So the first night I was here we were drinking wine on the balcony and I saw these dark shapes that I assumed were Really Really Big Birds, because Australia does things like that. I kind of wondered why the Really Really Big Birds were flying around after dark, but I just chalked it up to the whole ‘Australia Does Things Like That’ thing, and ignored it.

Then the other night we were again drinking wine on the balcony (this is something of a theme; you should get used to it) with J’s mother. (We had been to a soccer game. Don’t ask.) Anyway, one of the Really Really Big Birds flew into one of the trees and rustled a lot. I had developed a bit of a habit of watching the Really Really Big Birds, so I glanced at it. L must have noticed me, because she said, “Oh, it’s just the bats; don’t worry.”

OH IT’S JUST THE BATS DON’T WORRY.

DON’T WORRY.

ABOUT THE BATS.

THE BATS.

BAAAAATS.

I am not quite ready to deal with this reality.

I haven’t started packing yet. Oh, I’ve picked out a suitcase and there are piles of clothes everywhere that I totally intend to pack, but I haven’t actually done anything with them. I still have a few days, of course, (thank God) so it’s not like it’s really urgent or anything. Although the amount of stuff I have left to go through rivals an episode of Hoarders, so.

It’s starting to hit me that I’m actually leaving home forever and ever. (I know, slow much?) And although I’m excited about the move, I’m also finding that part of me is really sad.

It’s not like I’ve never left home before. I remember I was so excited when I left for college. (That is until I got on the plane and sat behind two girls who promptly started bitching about girls from my high school. And I realized that the type of girls I hated in high school become the type of women I hate now and will no doubt continue to despise because seriously we are no longer sixteen why the hell are you still acting like it?!) (It was fine, though. I never saw those girls again. Yay for class divisions in housing, I guess?)

OK, end tangent. Sorry. Anyway, my point was that when I was 18, I was really excited to leave home. And now I’m… kind of not?

Admittedly, all the other times I left, it was for a specified length of time – a semester, really, at most. So even though I was living away from home, my parents’ house was still home, you know? And now, home is going to be wherever I make it. Probably in a run-down Queenslander with a falling-apart kitchen and dripping taps. (Which is all supposed to be part of the !ADVENTURE! of moving out of home, I know. But why can’t my adventure come with a whirlpool tub, huh?)

So even though I know it’s inevitable – and good; I mean, who wants to be the pathetic 30-year-old still living with her parents? – I can’t help feeling sad that this place won’t be home. My parents moved to this house in 1976. It’s the only home I’ve ever known.

I don’t want this to be a SUPER SERIOUS ACTUAL WRITING PAY ATTENTION TO ME I’M DEEEEP kind of post. So I’ll shut up now.

In conclusion: being an adult sucks sometimes.

So one of the biggest issues I have with this move (apart from the blinding fear of never finding employment and ending up homeless under a bridge somewhere) is the necessity of condensing ALL MY STUFF into one suitcase. Well, one suitcase plus my carry-on bag plus my laptop bag plus my purse plus whatever I can wear/cram into my pockets. Basically I’m going to look like a demented gypsy with a penchant for electronics and shoes.

I’ve looked in to shipping stuff over, but dude, that can cost thousands of dollars. My stuff is not worth that much. So apart from the basics and a few absolutely-must-have-but-will-not-immediately-need items (cough my precious DVDs cough) that I plan on getting my parents to bring when they come*, I’m getting rid of the lot.

Most stuff I’m just trashing or giving away, mainly because I was too lazy and forgetful to sell them in time. My car, however, I did remember to list early. And oh my god, you guys, have you ever tried to sell a car online? Because it is not worth the stress. I’ve had a few emails, but the whole process is making me hate people. Well, more than I did already.

There was one person, for example, who emailed asking for a contact number. They then sent a text asking how much I wanted for the car. Uh, the price listed in the ad, dude. I don’t have a super-secret-cellphone-only price. When I never got a reply, I assumed that they were indeed looking for a super-secret-cellphone-only price, and wrote them off. Then yesterday (note: several days after the first exchange) they sent another text, saying they’d like to come look at the car. That day.

I was at work, so replied saying of course they could come look – after 4pm. I spent the rest of my work day panicking about how to get home in time to wash my car and make it all shiny in case they were punctual types** and wanted to come right at four.

SPOILER ALERT: I didn’t need to wash the car. Because they didn’t show up. Because apparently, people who are looking to buy a car don’t want to buy a good car, they want to buy a car that is available whenever the hell they feel like looking at it.

A car is not a cheeseburger, people.

In conclusion: I still have a car. Damn it.

*You know: Don’t you miss your ONLY CHILD? Don’t you want to come visit her? And bring her her Buffy box set?

**Nothing in my entire interaction with this person should have made me think this. And yet.

So I was all, “hey guys, I’m moving to Australia, I should totally start a blog so I can document my adventure!”  And then I bought a domain name and paid for hosting and downloaded WordPress and…

Well, then I ignored it for a few months.  (What? I had, like, The Vampire Diaries and stuff to watch.)

Anyway, plans moved ahead and I remembered I had actually paid to have this thing, so probably shouldn’t ignore it. Plus if I had a website I could totally boast on my resume about my AWESOME CODING SKILLZ.*  So I put aside my Cosmo and tried to remember my WordPress password.

AN INTERMINABLE AMOUNT OF TIME LATER,  I ended up with this.  There are still a few kinks to work out, and for some reason all the content is centered in Internet Explorer, but whatever, IE users (*cough* DAD *cough*), get a better browser already.

I’m moving on February 22nd, so expect posts complaining about luggage restrictions until then, and posts complaining about how the luggage I brought was WOEFULLY INADEQUATE after that.  I’m just a barrel of laughs, clearly.

*Lies! Blatant lies!