"The innocent typeface. If comic sans was a man he would be morbidly obese, wear a purple suit with a necktie, have a toupee placed precariously on his head and cackle like a bitch."

Mikael, and his personality profile of Comic Sans MS.

"They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself." Andy Warhol

I spent the first part of these last few weeks angry at my baby sister. I was so angry I stopped eating, and when my Mother force-fed me meals of soup (guilt eating) I was quickly rid of them. I was emotionally dead, nothing made me smile and I couldn't bear to leave my room, let alone my bed. I slept for the first 3 days after our fight. The worst part was, no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't cry.

It took me nearly a week to join my family on the couch, simple pleasures such as watching Grand Designs with my Mum and sister were replaced with a sombre, eyes-wide-open sleep stretched across my bed. I emerged when I knew my sister had gone out, and it was only then I was able to collapse into my Mothers arms and sob. And sob. Choking, deep tears that had culminated over the week flowed from my eyes, down my cheeks and covered my Mums shoulders.

"You know Charlotte. When you were a little girl and I used to shout at Hannah, she used to run behind you and clutch your back. And you never let me near her. But when you were naughty, she would never come to help you".

It didn't make me feel better. But I knew what she was saying.

It has only been a few days since things changed. She approached the subject when I couldn't escape, picking me up from work and choosing the worlds longest route home. It was painful, gut-wrenching. I couldn't look at her as she explained away her doings. But I was no longer loathing, I could accept her poor excuses for a poor behaviour. And the balance of power shifted. I held the upper hand.

Stuck at a set of traffic lights. The night was dark, and the rain had misted the autumnal leaves lining the drive home. I was wrapped in shawls and scarfs, she was sitting cold in a thin cardigan, and glasses misted by the tears she was barely suppressing. She stuttered apology after apology until I told her to Stop.

I unwrapped the scarf from around my neck and wrapped it around hers. She grabbed my hand, and told me that she loves me. And as a small smile broke onto her face, I pulled away from her and curled myself up into a ball and told her "I know."

Setting the scene: Anthonys 30th birthday, a very cold, very merry April night. Friends, family and lots of foreign visitors. Anthony had dedicated his birthday speech to Henry, a two and a half year old nephew.

"Now everyone, please shut up. I want to talk to little Henry.

There was once a man who loved his family. He loved them very much, and he went down to the ocean

and he brought them back a bucket of water. Because he loved them.

Now, there was another man, he loved his family very much as well. He went down to the ocean and he brought

the whole ocean back to them. Because he loved them.

Cue peals and peals of laughter from everyone listening to the speeches.

Shut up everyone, this is important for Henry. Now Henry...

There was another man Henry, he went down to the ocean also, but he just went for a swim

and a bit of a surf. He loved his family, but he just went for a paddle.

And lastly there was one final man, he loved his family. When he went down to the ocean he stood there for a minute.

Looking out at the ocean he asked,

Why the fuck aren't I at Anthonys birthday?!"

Loves.

Simplicity. Some may call it 'budget' and 'basic' but nothing is more enjoyable to me than setting up on a piece of MDF taken from a building site (that has been lovingly customised by an artist friend) with take-away, a good bottle of wine and a jazz vinyl playing in the background. If things get raucous, wine gets spilt, it doesn't matter. It's the new disposable.

 

Omens. Everything and everywhere. I am a total believer in the idea that the future is already around us and it's your own fault if you cannot see what's coming.

Dressing up with no place to go. I am known for my race to the shops for milk and bread wearing feathers in my hair, fist fulls of golden rings and sheer cream layers. What is life if I can't wear my heels before midday?

Travel. I've been lucky enough to visit China twice and travel extensively around Asia but I keep finding reasons to go back. It's such a beautiful country (and continent), full of culture and spirit that is sadly lost on most of the Western World. Picnics at the Forbidden Palace, races up Football Hill, singing the Spice Girls in a remote English language school. Exploration is everything.

Ostentatious jewellery. Give me a bag of gold chains, large semi-precious stones and kitsch trinkets and I am in heaven. Soldered together by intense heat and a limitless imagination, nothing is more beautiful.

  

The Northern Beaches, far far North. Byron Bay and surrounding areas is a coastal version of my hometown. The characters and pace of life is so well suited to my personality. And nothing beats Byron during festival season. Or in the rain. Give me a beach and a storm cloud any day, I'll surf it whatever.

 

My Mum. Hands down the world's most amazing woman. No one has taught me about the world like she has. She inspired me with her courage to beat breast cancer, she has enriched me with her life lessons (and a pretty killer wardrobe), she has made me laugh in any situation. She puts her views aside to let me choose my own path, but she has held my hand when I've needed it. And my friends like cause she bakes for them. Such a good baker.

Growing up, out of the 'burbs. I can proudly call myself a country girl, as finally, after 21 years of life I am embracing my splendid isolation. And the City Kids don't have the paddocks for parties we do, nor can they drive less than an hour to fantastic lakes for water skiing, or to wide open spaces where you can pull out your moto for a quick ride. Our farmers markets are actually frequented by the farmers themselves, who duck back home if they run out of that 'must have' loaf of olive and rosemary bread that they'll deliver to your place that night. And it is only 2 hours from Sydney...

"So come on! Get live with us".

Melbourne, look out. Jumbledat have left home and moved in on your territory. Let them sooth you with their jazz and make your heart race with hip-hop lyrics straight from the soul. A unique brand of funk, a fusion never before seen. It's only a matter of time before you love them like we do.

Wait until this loads, the regret won't be worth it.

http://jumbledat.com.au