The other side of Whooah there Silver

I’ve had my oldest friend Catherine and her darling son Angus staying with me this last week. I’ve loved it, no; I needed it, so much more than I really understood. It was a week of revisiting the bond that two young girls made back in boarding school together, now coming back together again as woman, all right at the most perfect time.

Her son Gus, 6 months old, of course fell in love with me. Well, I fell madly in love with him. His smile made me light up so bright inside, and when he cried and I went to him and he suddenly stopped and the corners of his mouth curled so widely, grabbing his dimples on the way to his ears, I felt so much love and warm. You’d say we were all a bit giddy, so many giggles, cuddles, love and warm and fuzziness – Catherine stopped at one point, and with almost a look of just for a moment of heart break said,

“Why can’t we remember how much we were loved when we were this age?”

I haven’t been writing much lately, I’ve been stopping and starting a lot, some might say it’s writers block, but I know it’s because I’ve been feeling really blocked about some other “hard emotional” stuff that came up recently with Judith, that like I’ve mentioned before, rocked me somewhat. But because I decided I didn’t want to live it every day, I blocked it out. Shut it all down, and in the process, shut a large part of me down too. It’s amazing how long you can run a car, the gauge on the empty for a while; and I’ve always been the type to see how far this baby will go with out filling up, or a service.

My vehicle, my body, always let’s me know when the empty light is flashing hard. I’ve got so good at keeping it going on the empty warning, just for a wee bit longer, or just enough so I can take a new route or go somewhere completely different, because maybe, just maybe I’ll find some new wave fuel (encounter) that will fill me up! And, then generally I do - just fill up, in the nick of time.

I took a big turn and got involved in something really new and exciting and yes, this path kept my little motor purring for a while. Lots of fuel for Flowers here! I didn’t have to think about any emotional stress, what, what was the “hard stuff”, I can’t remember, I don’t want to, all I want to see signs for on this path is, “I want, I want, I want, I want….”. Never ever any signs to direct me to “get real Gloversville” or “Stop and smell the roses, Flowers”, or here’s one that I speed past a lot “Hey, I’m not so shiny today”.

No, you see for on this path, a strong man is giving me wonderful new directions, and marvellous distractions on what I could be doing, and the type of driver I could be; consuming my thoughts night and day, in every way. But, even I know I now need to see a sign that reads, “Whooah there Silver!”.

When you have a car accident, you can always get a paint job, knock out the dints and be all brand new again. Or in my case, have plastic surgery a nose job and be stitched back up again, and her presto all brand new. But the other side of all of this, just like the chassis of a car, the body also remember trauma and leaves internal scars. A real logbook of a car will tell you just how many times the body has been hit and repaired from damage, yet our bodies don’t show that to the outside world. But internally, there is log; many of us, just aren’t conscious of it. But let me assure you, the body does remember, and eventually it will show you.

The car choked last week, in the brink of my fabulous driving, blonde hair flowing in the wind, I discovered a lump under my arm. A rather large lump, painful and actually quiet scary. Catherine had arrived just this day, so it was almost like it was ok for the car to stall, because she’d know how to pick me up and make sure I got home.

My darling mechanic, Doctor Shiv, tells me it’s not life threatening, but is due to emotional stress, causing the glands to react, it’s called “lymphatitis”. No new fuel would fix this one, (even though I did try a fair amount called “Chardonnay” with Catherine) it was warning to reduce the stress in my life otherwise the car would be having scans on my head lights for the rest of my life. I just can be dealing with life without lights - the path needs to be bright and girls must lead the way!

Catherine left on Thursday and today I’ve found another infection reaching up in my neck and ears. The funniest thing is, I left work today jesting that it was nothing that some good old drugs (and what would also be a jab in my back tyre later) couldn’t fix. Ok, stop jesting, and take me past the road sign of “Get real Glover” again please.

All of our senses are integral to how the our world is perceived. The brain processes perceptions and stores them as thoughts, emotions, images, sensations and behavioural impulses. The most toxic of these is anger. It can lay dormant, but it can be the harshest of all impulses we have when it eventually cracks a leak. Actually the process of the brain memory is similar to a computer chip in a Tom Tom navigation System, punching in routes to travel, which call all be temporary, which is akin to memory storage, unless it’s saved, and that information lies dormant until retrieved by reopening that route address. But like my attempt to drive in Singapore today, even with the right address it’s hard to locate sometimes. That is, unless there is a trigger, or you hit the same bump again and again until you can’t do anything but acknowledge that place you’ve arrived at. I think this is where I got stuck.

I’ve learnt, I can drink many a martini, I can eat gourmet meals, I can take up smoking Vogues again, and I can get involved in titillating, electrifying and inexplicable relationships and call it all a distracting drive in my car, but the signs just get bigger – “Whooah there Silver”.

Maybe I will start looking out for the signs “tip toe through the tulips” for a change. Yeah, I think I want to get out and walk for a while. How boring, or actually not, the trips in the car are becoming a bit tired to be honest, it’s all fantasy stuff and not too much reality going on. Good God Maria, how old am I?

That week with Catherine reminded me to remember. As once we were girls, we were now woman who have loved each other like sisters, and whom speak honestly and freely and it be very safe. For years, we’ve been two inherently different woman, ironically, both wishing we had a little bit more of what the other person possessed. We covered a lot of ground, many topics, laughter and tears, all perfectly scripted to leave me with some sensible perspective on life. It’s amazing what can come out of dialogue from the eyes of a woman that made choices and the other from the woman who’s eyes had too many choices.

...and if little Gusy grows up and forgets his first big trip overseas, he will never forget the stories we share and warm and fuzziness lived on the trips we take in my car, no doubt there.

So, the other side of this is I’ve found a nice place to rest my car for a while. The grass between my toes will feel lush, just for a while, as and we all know I’ll never give up my wheels! Beyond getting through the hard stuff, there is way too much good stuff out there that I am still yet to touch and feel, top down and hair blowing in the wind. Maybe, if I remove some of the road blocks, the next path I journey along will cater for a whole new set of adventures…...and one thing is for certain, you know I’ll write about it!

Do you know what, I saw a big red road-block on the other side of the road at the end of my street with initials “TBS” painted on them like graffiti! It made me chuckle, I love signs!



Fleur
TBS

p.s - and there will always be light along the way! ;-)

The other side of translation

What do they say; men are from Mars, woman are from Venus? I think it goes a step further, I think we all talk different languages, and I’m not referring to French or Italian or Big Sheila.

I have a French business associate who until tonight, I didn’t understand his ways, or what he was really saying in our exchanges. His language in business is different to mine and at times we’ve had misunderstandings. That is, until tonight, St Paddy’s day, a Frog and a Big Sheila came together for a beer to talk a different language. What I would call “Human”.

We all use different turns of phrase to get our point across. I have my own special phrases that I’m well known for…
“Urgent” is definitely one of them – it means, when something is just a bit “out there” or over the top, or too much for some one to bare.
“Warm and Fuzzy” is another, which means, when things are just great, or I want you to know that I’m sending you love, or I’m loving what is going on.
“Good God Maria” is not necessarily religious, but it means, a slightly more Big Sheila “OMG”.

So many different nuances that all make up my “talk”. And you all have your own, or maybe they’re not words, they’re actions, or silly behaviour that all mean something…. To you, or to me, but we’re all supposed to “get it” because we know, or think we do.

I sat with my friend Dave recently talking about the difference between men and women and what we hear and don’t hear. Fascinating stuff really. I recalled a situation with a man who I thought was doing X and he said, “God no, Fleur, he’s saying Y, can’t you see that?”

I sat in a fishbowl with 16 men recently (yes I was the only woman) and I was debriefing with one of the big fish that was sharing his views on what one of the fish were doing in the session. His observations was definitely X, and until I shared that there was more M-N-O-P involved; because at my side of the fishbowl, the swimming action was so more peaceful and contented than what he saw at the top of the bowl, we agreed that there was no cause for concern of an X.

You say, "Tomato", I say, "Tomarto".
You say, "err blurr blurr, oui oui", I say, "ok got it"
I say, "yeah man", you say, "absolutely hate that"
I say, "cat got your tongue?", you say, "nup, I was born with one, just don’t wanna speak to you!"
I say, "you up for this?", you say, "yes"…. But mean no.

So many expressions, which can, to one, or someone else, be taken the right or wrong way.

People tell you what they want you to hear, because they don’t want to create a situation or maybe even hurt you. I’ve had someone say to me, “No I’m not going to marry that person”, but he knew they absolutely were. But they used that language because they didn’t want me to hurt me.....more than the reality of what was really going to happen? Or was it, that they didn’t know how to tell me in “human” language, “I’m getting married”.

Or when people say “I’m going to leave them for you”, but then their behaviour is completely the opposite to that piece of dialogue. There is always something that gets in the way, Easter, birthday, school, a wedding, and a holiday…. We all know some one that has been through this kind of translation problem.

The other side of translation is looking for the signs of what people do to back up their dialogue. Actions translate so well don’t you think?

So many expressions, different languages, different use of words, intonation, suggestion, or poor articulation all causes the end meaning, of what you hear, to be up for interpretation. You think X, they are saying Y and then the result is Z. Who wants Z? It’s the dud, the end, and the worst of the entire alphabet.

Until you might stop and ask - “What do you really mean? What do you want?”.
When someone tells you they don’t’ know, it means, they’ve made a decision. Indecision is a decision. Plain and simple.

I’ve sat with some new and very wonderfully coloured people in these last three days – and every-one of them spoke a different language. It’s been fascinating to listen to, watch and be a part of.

Financial
Frustrated
French
Furious
Cantonese
Curious
Shock factor
Fabulous
And unspoken

So many different languages and shades of human expression to translate; I don’t speak Mandarin, Italian, French or otherwise… Big Sheila is about all I do – but I can say, I’ve developed my vocabulary tremendously over these last few days. I’ve learnt a lot.

We can speak with tongues, action or our inaction. The other side of all of this, and this what I’m beginning to really love about life; is this - be open to hear it or if you’re a little hard of hearing as you get on in life, look for it. We can all become really healthy translators.


What do you want to hear?

Fleur
TBS

The Other Side of Feedback

I remember getting a report card from Boarding House mistress when I’m 14 saying I was an over zealous young lady and if I spent as much time on my studies as I did prancing around the boarding house singing and dancing I might just get some where in life. I distinctly remember thinking, BITCH, and wiped her off my favourite’s list. It was feedback that I couldn’t process very well at age 14. What’s more, the reality is, she didn’t say “I might just get somewhere in life”, what was written was “I might just achieve some significant grades at school”. She actually thought I was a very intelligent young woman with a lot of promise, and in her own way, was trying to encourage me to study to develop myself so I had choices in life. At age 14, I didn’t hear or see that, all I saw were criticisms.

Feedback, it’s such a powerful thing to have in your life, even when you think it’s bad, it’s good in many ways.

It is ratings appraisal time in the Big Brother House (my work) and everyone is looking for ratings contribution to pass to their Producer to say, “See, this is what I’ve contributed to this show this season”. Which like for all of us, has been an incredibly tough, grueling year to get good ratings through.

I’ve had about five house-mates send me requests asking for some words about how we’ve interacted in the house and what observations I can share about their performance. These rating reviews are all due at the end of this month, so of course, people are eager to secure places for next season and get paid on last seasons takings. I’ve been a little busy with my own ratings reviews lately, so I’ve not responded in a timely manner to my house-mates, which I must apologize for, because all of these people have actually had a significant bearing on my happiness and rating results in the Big Brother House.

Pretty selfish really, because when I asked them to help me win a challenge, or just find where the Loo paper is stored in this house, they were all there, reaching out with arms to make my day in front of the cameras special.

The other side of being selfish was my rating reviews were distracting me. My brother wrote in with some pretty scathing words for me to digest. In fact, it actually rocked me to my core. It was his perception on how the world perceived me, laced with some hefty and outrageous threats if I joined the Australian House hold any time soon. I was absolutely devastated; in my mind, I thought I would always have a place back in that household. It seemed not. His perception of me, in his words, was reality.

I guess this was reality TV after all, all raw and out there for all to make judgment. Ratings from people that you think you can rely on is super important, I think that is universal for all house-mates actually. So when one of your fans turns and tells you he’s always thought you were crap in your life performance, you start to feel the pressure of what the cameras can do to people in life. It really hits a nerve when viewers see what they want to see, or rather the cameras only show one angle of you, which might well be your bad side, and then your stereotype cast with it for life.

Is perception really reality? Is what someone or one person thinks of us the reality of whom and how we really are? I think not. It’s taken me a lot of soul searching this last week, and a tremendous amount of tears off the set, to realize that one man’s perception of me is from his lenses, or old footage that has lost it’s context in relation to the scenes played out today.

We do things in life that people judge, react poorly to or simply don’t understand why we’ve done it. So they, with the tools that they have at that moment in time, make an assessment of this situation, negative or otherwise, and for most people, that assessment is the blue print of what really lies beneath their opinion of you.

I chose to reach out to those viewers my brother referenced to support his rating review of my character, to ask them did they feel this strongly about me as a house-mate? Whilst I did not buy in to the heckle shouted from my brother, after some reflection I thought it was wise to ask for some honest feedback from these viewers, who I knew had also had turns in the house, so understood the pain of the heckling, yet maybe I didn’t see that they too were all standing in my blindside?

It made me think about some feedback a house-mate of mine Cubby, gave me when I first moved to Big Brother Asia. I’d been in the house for about a month, all enthusiastic and full of beans wanting to start a new life and get right into the action inside. Then one night, he took me aside and told me that I needed to calm down because I was scaring people. In my own words, he described me as being a little too urgent. This was valuable feedback. At the time, I was not a happy camper, and felt utterly deflated, thinking to myself, “Christ every one really is watching”. Fortunately, in months to come, it would become apparent that this was what happening. I was scaring the beejezus out of people. This is Big Brother Asia, and a 6ft+ loud Aussie bird that is slightly a bit too direct with my own feedback, was crossing all the boundaries and rules of this beautiful Big Brother show. I had to learn how to give face in the house. Very different rules in the Big Brother house in Oz let me tell you. Face? What the heck is that? In Australia, it’s all about get your “game face” on, and get on out there - but nooooo, not in this house hold. It was going to be long season.

My mother always says, when things aren’t going well for you, do something good for some one else and it will always change how you feel. So I set out to write my requested “feedback” statements to help my fellow house-mates.

I truly believe in life we just don’t compliment each other enough. You know, like telling some one you think they’re a beautiful person, and it doesn’t mean you want anything from them or get them into bed. Just because you can! And you believe it.

On Sunday night, I lay in my bed, and wrote a rating reference for my house-mate Cubby. I thought I would share it with you. I’m going to send it to some senior Producers in Big Brother too; there is some talk they might not renew his contract next season for the Asia show, as apparently there is some new gig in another region that that they think he’ll do well in. They’ve got it all wrong in my books; the demographic of that show just doesn’t suit his vibe. How do you think Clooney would do on the set of Sesame Street?

Here we go (slight adaptation to protect the innocent!)

Dear Producer,

I’ve had the great fortune to work with some incredibly inspiring people within Big Brother House and I would now add Cubby to this list. There are many seasoned house-mates in our business like Cubby that personify a set of core values and skills that have such a positive impact on the integrity of our show and our viewers experience of the Big Brother Brand. I believe that the Producers need to examine ways to improve the way we coach our House-mates and analyze how our top rating performers operate. If we are going to survive in this challenging environment, the differences our people make, like Cubby, will keep this show alive.

I really value Cubby’s approach to show business – he’s a supreme coach, and what he doesn’t know about this business isn’t worth knowing. He’s got such a passion for delivering his best performance, time after time, and I sincerely believe that working with Cubby has had a significant influence on how my ratings have increased in this season’s show.

I moved to Singapore late May 2009 to become a Big Brother House mate for SEA having starred in a season in the Australian series. Cubby took time out of this incredibly busy schedule to discuss at length some fundaments of the show that would give me the tools to succeed and get some good ratings. I’m not just referring to how to win points in the games to get food etc, more so, the overall emotional intelligence of how to survive as a new, forthright Australian woman, in the back drop of a rather tricky Neighborhood. He shared with me some observations about my character that would in months to come be vital for me to understand how to keep my place in the House.

Feedback is essential in these circumstances, and what observed was spot on and thankfully he pointed out what I needed but could not see at the beginning. In my experience, the Big Brother House can be rather adversarial at times, and what makes Cubby such an asset is he offers tips and advice to help the house-mates avoid the internal challenges.

Cubby has set aside time for me to brain storm and talk through my strategies to get the viewers to like what I had to say. I will say though, at times I found Cubby’s manner somewhat harsh and critical of my work (and have told him to get stuffed more than a few times), but maintain I am grateful to have a constructive push to encourage me to achieve better results in my performance. All too often, I see leaders in the House resist giving people valuable constructive feedback that ultimately will help our ratings improve. (Maybe it might help their ratings too?)

I’ve seen Cubby become the “go to” person in the house for general advice on the “how to” in show business. His work in front of the cameras speaks for itself, but to his credit, he has also given what little spare time he has left to support the other house-mates to highlight areas for consideration, share show business know how, or other ratings analytics to support the pursuit for more viewers in this region. Simply put, he offers some much needed plain old common sense that he’ll articulate in such a way that the “Big Brother Guide for Dummies” should publish it.

One observation I am particularly keen to make is that Cubby’s zero tolerance for poor service or mediocre housework has raised the bar and improved the quality-control Big Brother House SEA. Individuals have started to question and demand more from their fellow house-mates, and slowly a shift is taking place of our people not talking about “plain rice for dinner” or just “we don’t stock any toilet paper in the house”, rather spending time to talk to our public about what they’d like to get out of the show and make them switch on again and again, rather than turn the channel to Cable - because it’s cheap! Cubby is very passionate about the basic fundamentals of how to win higher ratings, and it very simple, get to know your audience.

The fact of the matter is, Big Brother is not a vanilla show, nor do the produces wish to be a cheap player in a much commoditized reality TV show market. Cubby’s approach that he ardently shares with his housemates, and the vision that has been demonstrated in the show he recently won, is to focus on taking the Big Brother Series right into the value space of Television, and far from vanilla reality TV dimension that so many Asian viewers perceive us to be in today.

The culture within Big Brother SEA is reflective of a very tired house, and with no scripts released yet from Producers for the next show, people like Cubby have become a fundamental strength at the core of our house.

I also believe that outstanding individuals like Cubby can also create monsters in the Big House; the more housework he does, the greater the level of expectations of what other tricks he can pull off, and then, the more pressure for Cubby to play up for the cameras.

Unfortunately there is only one of Cubby, and I have observed his struggle to balance his personal time in the Big Brother Room with his eagerness to give the public a good show. I hope next season, if they bring him back, he works on finding a greater focus on his personal life and recognizes that is as equally as important as the cameras. You can not kill the goose to get the golden egg, right!

He’s great fun both on and off the set of the house, a consummate professional, and a very caring genuine man with a mass of integrity. With a sharp Scottish wit and genuine interest in people he’s definitely become a high ratings character on the show. His emotional intelligence is well beyond most I’ve shared a house with before and in my experience, he has an uncanny ability to keep ten steps ahead of the game and indeed the producers. He’ll always win the game that gives you more than plain rice for dinner.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed working with Cubby, and if you asked for my opinion, it would be great result to see Cubby make a come back in the next season of Big Brother. Although, with a twist, something unexpected, so it gives the viewers something worth watching!

Kindest regards,

The Big Sheila.

The reality is we’re not perfect all the time; and certain viewers might fixate on that “thing” you did, on that day, and then you’re screwed with ratings for a long time. They’re a fickle bunch out there. But then again, there are the die hard viewers that will tune in again tomorrow to see what your day holds and love the journey with you, they’ll tune in again, because they know you’re human.

Actually, Cubby’s been a royal pain the ass at times, but that will not stop me telling the Produces they’re mad to let him go to that another show, especially when our ratings have really started to pick up again here because of what he’s pulled off in front of the cameras. Nor will it stop me from letting him know he’ll be really missed if he leaves the house.

Go tell someone how you feel about them today – see what happens. And pay it forward, if someone does something lovely or wonderful for you, do something special for someone else. It makes the world go around.


Smile for the camera.

Fleur
TBS

The other side of the mirror

I have a couple of friends that like to mirror allot. It’s not about being vein, it’s more about mirroring behaviour to create a rapport. When I like blue they like blue, then grey or green. They do, suggest to feel or want just as I do. My initial thoughts have been that one side of this is a compliment, that these people must think I have good taste. The other side is frustrating, as I wonder why they can’t have an original thought of their own? Or is it really about that at all?

I also know people that take mirroring to another extreme. I call it “two sheds”. It basically means that when you talk about something you own or have, these people tell you they have an even better story, experience or bigger possession then the one you’ve just talked about or show-cased.

“I’ve got a shed in my back yard…”
“Oh really, I have two! And my sheds have blah blah blah…”

And what’s more, these types of people will always be sure to make mention of the item they know you’ve got in your shed but they’ve got the latest greatest one.

Whether it’s about sheds, men’s watches, the recent house purchase or even down to how much better their baby stroller is, this kind of mirroring is in my books is rather distasteful and in allot of cases, quite vulgar.

It’s a recognized psychological fact that mirroring body language can create rapport. Whether you’re in a board room, meeting someone for the first time or sitting next to someone at a bar; we can make it easier to create a link and a bond with the person if we mirror them. Most of us do it naturally, an innate reaction to the person you are interested to impress, sell to, influence or get into the sack. Fact. I’ve done it and I see people do it all the time in business. However, I now realising it’s time to take the blinkers off in the social world.

Rapport means literally, “The relation of mutual understanding or trust and agreement between people”. To build a space where we both, all feel comfortable with each other.

The other side of the mirror being used to build rapport is that it becomes a tool for men to carry in their imaginary man bags. Allow me to explain. And again, if you are not conscious of this, you soon will be once you have your next encounter.

With allot of men I’ve dated or some men that have wanted to become my surrogate boyfriend, I’ve had a common compliant that they are incapable of following through with anything.



“…..oh yeah, I want to start in life in Singapore, let’s do that.”
“….oh yeah, I’d love to do that cooking course with you, let’s do that”
“…oh yeah, I’m made keen on the Phuket Triathlon idea, let’s do that”
“….oh yeah, I’m doing a triathlon next year, let’s do that together”
“….oh yeah, I’m a writer, I’ve written 2 books and onto a third, I’ll show you…”
“…..oh yeah, I always planned to spend a year in Africa, let’s do that together…”
“….oh yeah, I love martini’s, in fact I’ve got two chilled glasses in my fridge….”
“….oh yeah, you just made duck curry, it’s my absolute favourite too, let’s do that together….”
“….oh yeah, I’ve always wanted to hike Mt Koto Kinabalu, let’s do that …..”
“…oh yeah, I’d love to catch up, let’s have dinner next week end…."


….. oh yeah…. I’m still waiting…. Well, not really, I’ve got on and done these things myself or with friends. But there I was thinking that we had so much in common, such a great connections, but they must have not liked me enough to follow through. And maybe they didn’t, but it’s far more apparent to me now that these men are masters of the mirror and had no intention on taking action. Their real motivation was purely to get me to desire them. What makes me laugh, is one of the Mr Oh Yeah's who said he was doing a triathlon wrote on his Face Book recently that “he’d prefer to do two hours of any other sport then go for a run”. Never a truer word spoken of a triathlete!

My friend Spencer said it perfectly the other day, talking about his new lady,
“…. I like this girl because she told me to F off and didn’t listen to my bullshit. Because Fleur, to be frank, it’s so easy to get what you want with women, you’ve just got to tell them what they need to hear….”

Whilst this does not apply to all men, a rather large proportion of the males species say all these “magic” words to create a space for us mere mortal woman to walk into. Then the game is on for men to have their way.

Now that I’ve cottoned on to this and I can sit back and have a giggle about what I’ve perceived as being “such wonderful connections”, a real giggle in fact. I have to admit, I did believe them; so that either makes me an A grade sucker or a very nice person, for time after time, I thought these men were as passionate as I was about the things that mattered to me. Mr Do Bee, holding the magic mirror, might tell me to get my head out of my ass right about now and just recognise it for what it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBxeCV0bIcU

When I was in the business of “fixing people” who were the lost dogs, I used to tell them to stand in front of the mirror naked and take a good look at them and recognise the who you are today.

This is an exert from a letter I wrote;

“I always say, "every day is a school day" – and right now you’re learning the survival module of the course. Interestingly though, I’ve learnt that survival doesn’t have to mean to endure loneliness nor does it mean to be deprived of intimacy. Of course there is a fine line here because of what we think we are emotionally capable of, but again, it’s all about learning. So while your learning these new lessons, take some time to have a good look at you. The mirror will reveal to you that extra grey hair in your goaty, that your left nipple is hanging slightly lower than normal (probably because it’s been tugged on a lot lately), a slightly cracked smile that is actually beautiful, or just that the creases between your eye brows are looking more pronounced. This is potentially how you’ll look for a while - potentially. But I encourage you to acknowledge your current shape now because I can assure you that some time soon, with some patience and opening yourself up to accepting a lot of support and love that is on offer around you - you’re your smile will be super wide, that belly will push out an addictive and contagious laugh, your smile lines will be deep, you torso strong, your nipple upright and those balls will be clutching up again repetitively …… and all with out effort or pain. You will have found your balance and your peace.”

If I was still in the “fix it” game, I would tell the Mr Oh Yeah’s to go have a good look, as the mirror doesn’t lie – it will not show an image of a man standing there decked out in a Robert Redford safari suit, in brand new trainers, wearing a chefs hat, sipping on a Martini and holding two tickets to Borneo. Rather, appreciate what you see, with all of your natural, native colours, and when you next meet a beauty, tell her about that. Surely the prize can still be won this way, maybe even more?

It is funny how much women obsess over how they look. Fixating over their appearance, causing anxiety and personal exhaustion to keep what they see in the mirror looking just right all in the name of desire. Yet, why has it not been exposed that there is a crusade of men, nationwide, globally in fact, that are all as desperate to change the “look in the mirror” because of something they want…. to be desired?

Boy, girl, man, woman, scare, strong, buff venier exterior, soft as a marsh-mellow interior, boobs, balls, bums and a whole lot of wonderful colours. And with your partner, you just might find that you have an abundance of similarities when you are brave enough to stand in front of the mirror together.

The other side of this is now that I’ve got new eyes with mirrors, my dating life may be completely ruined, or I could actually stop wasting time with the disingenuous. So if you spot me yawning across the table whilst on a date, you know I’ve clocked him as a Mr Oh Yeah, and just maybe after I shake off the yawn, I’ll have some fun with it and see how much mirroring he’s really prepared to do! This could be fun, or incredibly evil. I’ve always loved Tourvil and Dean….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2zbbN4OL98

When we stand in front of the mirror we are all relatively the same you know. It’s how we behave when we are not in front of the mirror that is the key. Or as the great Michael Jackson said "...if you want to make the world a better place take a look at yourself and make a change....." Such a great song....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SgtWIx2zLtk


Fleur
TBS

The other side of your genius

I’d like to take the last blog to another level and give you some context to the sexual revolution and the other side to its potential meaning. Let’s look at how your sexual expression can make you a genius. Really?

I understand that most of us associate sex as physical because of mainstream influences and then ultimately induces a highly biased mindset when it comes to reading about sex. Sex means smut in our mainstream conservative reading world, do you agree? But - have you heard of sexual transmutation? This is the exploration that one our strongest human emotions, the desire for sex, is just not a pure and direct relation to the physical expression, but it has the ability to elevate us to the status of genius. Allow me to show you the other side.


The literal meaning of the word “Transmutate” is “the changing or transferring of one element or form of energy, into another.”

Sexual transmutation is simple and easily explained; it basically means the switching of the mind from thoughts of physical expression, to thoughts of some other nature. And the emotion of sex brings into being a state of mind, three constructive potentialities –

• The perpetuation of mankind
• The maintenance of health (as a therapeutic recreation, it has no equal)
• The transformation of mediocrity into genius through transmutation

Scientific research has discovered that men who are incredibly successful are more often than not, those with highly developed sexual natures. What’s more, these men, that have manifested considerable wealth and fortune with outstanding recognition in their profession, be it commercial, literature, art, or industry, were all motivated by the influence of a woman.

What do they say - the other side of every successful man is a woman?

Can this be so - can a man socially accept that he can transform his desire to sow, to become a genius? The emotion of sex is truly an irresistible force that we all feel. The human mind responds to stimulation and the greatest of these is the stimuli of sex. When driven by this emotion, men become endowed with a tremendous command of action.

Keep a bull in the yard for an extended period of time and he will buck, he will rear, but eventually he’ll find his way out and force the show. Olay! This is exactly the case for the emotion of sex, it could be laying dormant, hidden underneath a dry spell, but by its very nature, will cause the phoenix to rise from the flames and make his appearance.

The news here is, if sexual energy is not transmuted into some kind of creative means, it will find a less worthy outlet to express itself. Boys, can you gather that 60 seconds of a moment, isn’t the same as a lifetime of greatness?

Castrate any animal and watch what happens. No Toro’s will fight the matador and there will be no cry of “Olay Olay” from the crowds, more an order of a juicy eye fillet steak and a bottle of Tempranillo. Remove the gooleys and you’ve stolen a major source of energy and action.

It is fact that when driven by this desire men develop an imagination, a sense of courage, a persistence and creative ability unknown to even themselves at times. So much so, that this desire can become so compelling, it will influence them to run very high risks in life to indulge in it, all to have their release for 60 seconds; a risk of reputation, family, or personal moral value. (Am I being generous?)

The philosopher Napoleon Hill believes that “the transmutation of sex energy calls for the exercise of will-power, to be sure, but the reward is worth the effort. The desire for sexual expression is inborn and natural. The desire cannot, and should not be submerged or eliminated. But it should be give an outlet through forms of expression, which enrich the body, mind, and spirit of man. If not given this form or outlet through transmutation, it will seek outlets through purely physical channels”.
He goes on to say, “Sexual energy is the creative energy of all genii. There never has been, and never will be a great leader, builder, or artist lacking in his driving force of sex.” **

The facts are there; have a flip through the history books and read up on the likes of Lincoln, Napoleon and William Shakespeare to name a few. When Lincoln met Anne Rutledge as one of America’s greatest leaders, he harnessed his creative genii through the stimulation of the love he experienced through Anne. Napoleon was invincible, a man of tremendous judgment whilst with his first wife Josephine; yet when he left her, his ruling immediately declined. There are plenty of examples in our history of men who have climbed to great heights from the stimulation of their wives, until money, power and temptation took the better of them, and they dissolved into destruction. Our dear Napoleon was not the only man that would discover that the sexual influence from the right source is more powerful than any substitute of expediency. You’ve all heard the line… “I did not have sexual relations with that woman….”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KiIP_KDQmXs

As I said, the human mind responds to sexual stimuli, and when harnessed, men are capable of lifting themselves into an elevated realm of thought. A friend of mine had an affair in his office, a extremely successful and respect businessman in his field and he shared his story with me. When we talked at great length about the affair, his firm conclusion was that his “lady” transported him to an intoxicating level of creative intent that he had never experience before, and was unsure would ever again with any other form of influence, or stimulation. And let me tell you this guy appeared to have tried it all. He was now 43 and was starting to see changes in his imagination, power of thought, and felt as though he actually “stepping up” for the first time. He felt awoken, and a changed man. There are endless stories of men that have had woman in their lives serve as the muse or fuel to their fire…. at the right time.

The other side of this is, it doesn’t mean all men are genii if blessed with an over zealous sex drive. It’s only if, those men are willing to stimulate the mind and imagination into a new creative power. Like I said, maturity is a critical factor here. Men who succeed with their plight to the status of genius, can shift the desire for sex to grow beyond the wanting to indulge in instant gratification, the need to share their love and “get it on” with her… and her, and her, and good god, her too. The preconceived notion that the “little man down there” is designed to procreate and that’s about it - needs to be challenged.

What’s becoming apparent is the majority of men just don’t get it. They have yet to grasp that the urge of sex has other possibilities that far transcends in importance than the mere release, conquest, quickie, shag, or what that rumble on kitchen table will ever give them. Can men realize that all of these expressions dissipate their energies to leave them lifeless, spent, and are useless after 60 seconds? Sleep anyone? Funny, their finest and most powerful emotions are all sown wildly into the four winds. Where do you think the term “sowing his our wild oats” came from?

The reason why scientists have discovered that men don’t achieve real greatest till past their forties, is because they’ve spent their earlier “in prime years” in constant dissipation of energies that could have been channeled into more profitable, sustainable results.

The other side is that there are also men in our history that have made their genius through other forms of stimulation, that is in no way the related to the sensual shape of woman. Robbie Burns wrote his best work when he was intoxicated, “For Auld Lang Syne”, was a drunken masterpiece. But, also let it be noted that these men have all destroyed themselves in the end, alone and with an empty bottle.

A study of IT Account Directors in the US has shown that highly sexed men are the most efficient salesmen. Which all boils down to a factor of a personality trait known as “personal magnetism”; which is nothing more nor less than sexual energy. Highly sexed people always have a plentiful supply of magnetism. Through cultivation and understanding, this vital force may be drawn upon and used to great advantage in the work environment. Surely you’ve seen it!

The handshake, their tone of voice, how attentive they are with you (the vibrations of thought), the body language and they way they dress. It’s all there in black and white; you just have to pay attention to it. Or if you’re a woman, you’ve already clocked it and made your move.

The animal’s call for the wild is termed being “in season”; men call it “open season”. Does that mean every day? The other side of this, is used in excess like liquor or drugs, sex can become just as destructive to us. The inability to harness your sexual stimulation has also shown to lead to temporary insanity, or some case permanent, or on a more basic level, broken marriages, painful break-ups or ruined careers.

So all of the men who are afraid of turning forty, I say embrace it! As luck would have it, not only will you have the abundance of sexual expression, but, this is your time to harness your genius and channel your energies to reach the echelons and peerage with brilliant men such as Bill Gates, Salvador Dali, Winston Churchill or Mr Bean - or who ever you believe is a genius!

So men, ponder a thought beyond 60 seconds, and fall in love with your wife again, or if not, ditch her and find a woman that does influence you with wonder, imaginative energy and greatness. If you’re single, go grab a fetching philly and hang on for the ride, you might just wake up to find that ladder to step on to.



She’s out there – we all are. A beacon of love and sexual light to stoke your fires, genius!

Fleur
TBS

**The source of inspiration for this Blog is “Think and Grow Rich”, but Napoleon Hill.

The other side of the Money Shot

Come on people, get your game face on, that’s the ticket, smile for the camera baby, say cheese, pucker up butter cup and smile for me! Are you on Facebook?

Facebook has cornered the perfect market for that perfect money shot, which is clean and dignified. Clean, meaning, there are filters in place so people don’t get a little over zealous and post large photo’s of Ron Jeremy as their profile picture. Instead it’s a wonderful way to display a perfect shot of “just you”, or something that represents your character, a Kodak moment or symbol that you're proud to be viewed by the third largest population in the world. Yes that’s right, Facebook is now considered the 3rd largest populated community in the world, outside of China and India.

People send photos, share moments and experiences all across the world. It’s brilliant, but it got me thinking about how much the digi age has changed absolutely everything that we do in life and how we communicate with each other. Dates, events, meetings and business leads are now all shared over Facebook, Instant Messenger and Text. More and more people are asking each other out on dates over the wire. Then what is becoming more worrying, all the rules are changing. What is considered "right and wrong" is such a blurred line nowadays over the wire. Couples are now “getting it on” with so much as a photo shared between, not even a coffee. Let me tell you, I’m discovering that phone sex is now considered passé and it’s all about text-sex, so get with the program people, a new dawn is coming.

Recently a girlfriend of mine, let’s call her Jill, was been having a text relationship with a strapping young lad in the UK. We’ll call him “Jack the Lad”. A text-sex-a-thon you might call it. Starting out all innocent and, “hi, how you doing today, been thinking of you”, then moving to, albeit rather quickly to Jack sending Jill a “naughty shot”. Our UK lad took the bold move to send across a shot of himself under the covers and then asked for one MMS'd in return. It shocked and equally titillated my somewhat conservative pal. However, that promptly opened the doors to other side of her once thought shy but charming, slightly dorky Jack the Lad. Soon their “hello darling how are you”, became, “imagine me…., as I….., as you….., as we….., then….”. Hot, hot, hot under the collar stuff, so much so, that she’d be sitting in a car on the way to work, blushing at her Blackberry, having to explain herself away to her car pool buddies. In different time zones, they’d text back an forth, keeping each other “warm” at night, or “hot” in the morning. However you looked at it, it was night and morning glory.

Technology has taken on a whole new dimension in our lives. It’s made us a generation, or generations of impatient people. Even the “three date rule” seems to be circumvented by the use of a mobile phone and digital technologies. Like I said, people are “at it” before they’d even clapped eyes on each other these days. How does that work? I don’t know, but apparently it just does.

My mate Norman tells me that nowadays the Gen Y’s are sending naughty photos of each other over the wire daily and he went so far as to say, girls are asking to “see it” on text before they’ll use it (or ride it, how ever your mind works?). It’s extraordinary really when you think about it. I scoffed and said “no way”, but he assures me he’s seen it first hand, that his mates and younger brothers have a Friday night “show and tell” at the boozer, slide shows akimbo of the ladies submissions that week. What has the world come to? Thankfully our Jill never had the gumption to send a return shot of any kind.

The other side of asking for more on text is some of us, although wish to be naughty, haven’t quite got over the conservative hump of sex in the bedroom not the Blackberry. Therefore, in a bid to keep up, have become more like screaming social fopars than the free and sexy individuals all floating around in this new age of sexual digital liberation. I think my darling friend Jill was a generation too late, and although sleeps with her Blackberry she’s absolutely not Gen Y, she’s just a hot Muma who is conservative but slightly experimental, and fortunately or not so, is a part of a more saucier pose than she. One night after far too many wines, she divulged the text affair to one of these more Sassy friends, who encouraged her to take it one step further and see what this wicked boy was capable of.

“Shock him, surprise him and make him think” the Saucier Sassy said. “Ask him for a "c o ck shot"!”
“What? NO, I can’t do that”
“Oh yes you can, ask him for a "cock shot" and see what he does, that way you’ll know if he’s man or mouse! And darling, if this is something that he really does all the time, he’ll be back in a jiffy with some of the best numbers from the files in his iPhone”
“Ahuh – I don’t do that kind of thing….”
“Go on, every one is doing this these days, where have you been?”

Two bottles of wine, a little push and Jill sent the text to Jack the Lad.

When your coach tells you to do something you generally listen, you take action and you work towards becoming a better person. When a schoolteacher tells you to do your homework, you did it; because you were told to. We all allow people with authority to come into our life to teach us lessons, show us things, and help us understand more about ourselves and life.

Then other side here is, that authority figure that gave you what seemed like really sound advice, can also create an outcome that wasn’t in the slightest bit what you wanted or hoped would happen. And just maybe, if you had not done what they advised and continued on your merry way, you wouldn’t be in that new uncomfortable (shitty) situation. No one gets it right 100% of the time and if you think you do, you’re boring and arrogant. The greatest bullshit buzzword of our times is “lessons learnt” – from all those wonderful fuck ups you had through your life that either take you one way or another. But the greatest thing about fucking up is it inevitably always takes you somewhere.

When you have a text relationship with someone, there is no way of telling how he or she has received your message, or intention. You can’t flutter an eye lid, pout your lips, throw your boobs out across the table, or lift your wine glass slowly and tip your head to expose your neck line to the man… it’s just there in black and white… “Send over a "c ock shot"”. Jill never heard from Jack the Lad again.

Like I said, some of us just aren’t at the sexual digi age, and whilst we can now laugh about it over a vino, Jill was mortified about taking the advice of her saucier sod mate, who lead her up the hill to seek more full frontage from a guy she hardly knew. Equally, I bet our boy Jack didn’t see that one coming at all, maybe he ran out of credit, or maybe he got hit by a car, regardless I can’t help but feel for Jill, the radio silence has been deafening. Her Blackberry will be plain texts all the way from now on.

And by the way, the other side of that nursery rhyme is Jill was bloody flowing Jack’s lead up the hill, just so he could be all manly and fetch the pale of water. He was the dickhead that fell over and it all turned to shit, so what is a girl to do? Jill came tumbling after…. Oh yes she did. Work with what you have ladies!

Jack and Jill texted a thrill, across the sea and water, Jack got down, Jill broke his crown and there in lies a text-a-thon-sexual disaster.

Know your limits and sense check all the worldly advice that you’re given, we all think we’re “Wikipedia” at times, but honey, my truth might not be yours. Question everything and remember, not everything that glitters is gold. And for god’s sake, when you’re smiling for the camera, just remember - everything out in Digi-land is traceable, viral in a second and can be forwarded on in one click.

I’m positive I said to a boy in the 3rd Grade, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours!”


What ever rocks your boat people! Bowshackawowwow!

Fleur

TBS

The other side of fair weather

Well, Cinderella went to the ball - my dress was stunning, I felt like a million dollars, I had a tall and terrific date, our table was brilliant with non-stop banter and it was all for the benefit of the Cambodian Children’s Trust. It was a picture perfect night... All until my date walked out, leaving me to feel more like the kitchen maid stranded on her own, than Cinda-fucking-rella.

Antony’s exit was due to my panic of loosing my camera during the ball. Lost as a result of being kissed outside the hotel, and somewhat distracted, I had left my camera on our love seat. I was rather upset because of valuable and controversial nature of photos stored on the camera and it was after all, brand new. After some time trying to find it, a man walked up and asked "is this yours?", presenting my red sony case before my eyes. I was ecstatic, I gave him a 50 and went up stairs quickly to thank every one for helping me try to find it. When I got back, there was no sign of Antony.

Antony had been professing love for me in the weeks leading up to the event, then kissing me tenderly and telling me how stunning I looked in my Jennifer Aniston gown; so you can imagine my shock when he left. No good-bye, or thank you (I paid for the ticket) all in favour of going to play with his buddies in Orchid Towers.

What kind of love is that, I wondered? I am starting to think that the other side of these kinds of admissions of love only survives in fair weather.

On my table were Hannah and Steve, a wonderful couple that have become like family to me here in Singapore. Steve is hilarious, split a rib funny and Hannah is my sister when I don’t have a sister, golf buddy and dear friend. They’ve been together for 13 years, have a gorgeous daughter Charlotte, and are truly in love. And really love each other. They share the same values and have a wonderful friendship to support their years together. Great friends, great lovers and they know how to have fun together. They will be life long partners.

Then on Sunday night, "Indecent Proposal" was showing on HBO; the famous movie about Robert Redford offering $1M to have one night with Demi Moore. A couple so in love since they were 21, although crippled financial bills, allowed this predator to come between them. And of course, the fairy tale ending was them finding their way back to the place where it all started and love prevailed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvwpotOzxvM

It got me thinking, can love really conquer all? Isn’t that the saying? The fantasy and the movies seem to have it down pat, but I really don’t think us mere mortals have got it entirely just yet.

Nowadays, it’s become so much harder to fulfill the fantasy of boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes boy, they get married and live happily ever. Outside forces, divorces and differences and less and less fair weather makes us all a little crazy. Today we’re all very complicated people, with layers upon layers of colours that shape and mould how we react, perform or treat other people we have relationships with.

Is the word l"ove" being used far too much, more flippantly, or as means to express something you are passionate about or like more than just “like” can explain? And what is the boundary when you express to a friend you really care for so dearly, and you tell them you love them all the time, then you share a kiss, yet the rules are it doesn’t mean anything? Don’t you think it dilutes the meaning of the word? (Which is more the case with Antony and I). Ha, when I was a little girl, I was of the belief that love meant forever, or rather that when you loved someone it would last forever. But then again, as a little girl, my dear Mum Gaysie, told me a Love Stork brought me to her! Lots of fair weather in my fantasy world.

Social scientists have published that the “in love feeling” typically only lasts for two years. Why is that? Some other scientists say it is a chemical high that turns us “on like lights” that cannot be sustained. Even they say fair weather love doesn’t last.

What is love? Is it a possession or attitude? Does it happen to us, or do we create it? And when some one loves you, what does that mean exactly? I know when I’ve been “in love” I feel like I can achieve anything, have insurmountable courage, can run faster than a speeding train, fill up ten balloons I one breath, and perform at my peak, absolutely high with uncanny ability.

To some it’s a euphoric passionate deep inner feeling, a rush of adrenalin, a spike of anxiety and high of endorphins, to only feel like you’ve fallen down a glacier, with deep wounds and a chest full of a dull painful aches when it is taken away or cut off from you like the rope that was guiding you down the mountain.

Why can’t there be a machine that can wipe you’re memory of all the hurt and pain and take you right back to the time with your first love, when you were innocent and naive to the ways of emotional power. A machine that erases just how far you fell when you were overcome by the power the love. Before we knew what “having a wall up” meant; and that if anyone wanted to get to you, they would literally have to climb K2 to find the real you.

I’m not talking about just single people either; I’m talking about all of us, universally. I know plenty of people in relationships that are "safe" because they don’t get asked questions and don’t have to look or delve any deeper than what is on the surface. Couples that certainly don’t have to acknowledge any emotional heart beats because they collude together to keep themselves in that very safe, emotionally monotone environment.

It might not be monotone for them, it might be incredibly comfortable, and “fish and chips” every Friday night in front of the television might really rock their boat – until one day, they meet that someone. It’s just a look; in fact it’s an instant look. A look that will change their life, as they know it, forever.

I walked into a bar one day in Pamplona, busting for the toilet when it happened to me. I had broken away from the group to find a pub, an instant split second decision, just like that – a bladder impulse would change two people’s lives forever.

Richard and I fell in love instantly. It was like neither one of us had ever experienced before. We felt like we were soul mates, destined to meet each other, but as the world would turn, not meant to be together. Unbeknown to me, Richard was already engaged to someone else. He loved this woman, but was not "in love". He met me and fell immediately in love because there was room within his world and heart to do so. He wasn’t fulfilled in his current relationship, even though he was going to stand at the alter and promise to love and obey her for the rest of his life.

Wrong or rightly, he allowed it go too far, our love was like an addiction to him, it was a passion that he’d never felt before and in his mind he couldn’t let it go….. Not until the day I found his wedding invitations in the bottom of his suitcase in a honeymoon suite hotel in Barcelona.

I was horrified. Devastated, torn to shreds, I hated it, I couldn’t fathom how someone could be so cruel, but I knew people couldn’t fake the kind of love that we shared, whether or not it was a fantasy, it was real between us. What was hard to admit, was a part of me understood what and how it had all happened. We fought and there were endless tears, but then decided we would make it happen, but he needed to time to deal with it at home.

He couldn't do it reality. He went back home and the guilt was too great - he chose to stay with his fiancé. He called me the day he got back from his honeymoon to say he’d made the mistake of his life. It was too late. I’d moved back to Australia by this stage and it had gone too far for me to forgive him and trust him. He called me constantly for another eight months, writing poems, singing “Chasing Cars” on my voicemail and telling me to look up at the full moon as it was our sign that we would be thinking of each other no matter where we were in the world.

If the truth were known, there was a part of me waiting for most of those months for him to walk through my front door with some gallant dramatic gesture to come and finally claim me, his soul mate, and we’d live happily ever after.

But the other side of that dramatic gesture was the cold reality of relief that he never did. I would have always questioned him, my family would never have accepted him, nor would his family forgiven him. He’d come from a family where his brothers were all in loveless marriages and they all stayed because that’s how it was done. He didn’t have the tools to do anything about his anger for getting himself into this mess, or his fear of getting out of it. It was fear that got him into it and it would be fear that would determine his life rather than happiness.

We all behave, react, argue, indulge, hate, fear and love the way we do largely guided by the limited or wealth of knowledge and experiences that we are armed with at that particular time. And, you know what, we all fall over. We all make mistakes, and as you well know, it’s how we pick ourselves up and acknowledge these lessons that really defines us.

We can wrap ourselves up in the most intense love and passion, we can feel as one while we make love and fall asleep in each others arms, yet we simply don’t have the power to control another human being. We can influence, we can nurture, we can lead, but ultimately we can’t force action, well not with out a kitchen knife anyway. So as I’m growing up, blossoming from a young buttercup daisy to taller stronger more beautiful Lilly, touching and feeling life, I’m learning that we are all affected by lifes elements in so many fundamental and different ways. I guess I’ve been dealing with the cause and effect of these differences; trying to embrace and accept.

The other side of all this is we can actually meet that special someone, fall in love, make promises, and buy gifts that we can’t afford, do ultraistic gestures and do things that really make us feel like we are lovers. But what can happen for a number of people, after we come down off the emotional high, all the euphoria evaporates the “we” becomes two self centered people who have made promises we can’t keep, in fact we’re incapable of keeping. So what happens is, that high, that “love” is replaced with hurt, anger, disappointment and fear.

My fear has also been in control, keeping me in a nice safe place, where no one can touch me like Richard did. The men I attract whilst are strong, they are not mountaineers, or interested in climbing K2 unless it’s for their own personal recreation. Time to pack up the climbing gear, and leave “Touching the Void” to Joe Simpson and his mate Simon. All risk, and high return I think, why the hell not? Safe hasn’t got me anywhere fast.

I can’t help but think if we were however, a little more realistic in our pursuits, maybe we wouldn’t make so many promises, or create expectations or pretend we are things we’re not, and search for the fair weather all the time?

I want to shake all of those people that are in relationships that are not fulfilling and say “wake up, go out there and find your soul mate”, but I’ve come to realize that people don’t want to take risks in life. That safe options more often than not are born from the foundation of their socialization, and what they knew growing up - so my way of thinking is completely nonsensical to them.

I’ve heard so many women say to me, “when you get married, you just feel more secure, you’ve got it then, you’ve got there.” Got where? Is there a marriage secret department store, and if you’re single or divorced, you’ve got no chance in hell in getting in? What does that mean exactly, that you’re safe from getting hurt? It makes marriage sound like a possession rather than a loving way of life. Or is that security is far more valuable than authentic love?

What are the virtues that possibly can deliver authentic love that is not just about the two year high? I believe to possess kindness, patience, forgiveness, courtesy, humility, generosity and most importantly, honesty is the answer. A healthy combination of these lovely characteristics used as a way of life, and not a quick fix for a temporary high, will see us through to achieving greater, more authentic love in our lives.

I really like Erich Fromm, a world famous psychoanalyst who talks about if we want to love others well; we need to be patient with ourselves first.

“To have an idea of what patience is, one need only watch a child learning to walk. It falls, falls again, and falls again and yet it goes on trying, improving, until one day, it walks without falling. What could the grown up person achieve if he had the child’s patience and its concentration in the pursuits which are important to him?”

I forgive Antony for leaving the ball, he had his reasons, I wasn’t very fair weather over the camera incident and it is not the end of the world. Richard also had his reasons for what he did. I can’t control the other side of that choice, but I did get to experience passion and euphoric love like I’d never touched before - one I shall not necessarily look for again. Robert Redford’s scheming Millions Dollar ways didn’t win over the true love of Demi and Woody, and Steve and Hannah make fantastic role models and have now become my moral and love compass with the men in my life. And....... I’ve come to believe that timing is always such a fundamental part of two people falling in love. It’s amazing that it ever happens really when there are so many obstacles in the way.


Here is to love, long may it last!

Fleur
TBS

P.s - A life with out risk is like no life at all.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQCqYXLC6Qo

This is what I was listening to – The John Barry Score to Indecent Proposal, one of my top 10 favourite instrumental scores from a movie. The real piece is 25 mins long, this is only 10. It truly is beautiful.

The other side of the last supper

I’ve just spent the last week in a health retreat in Ubud, Bali. It’s a detox week. Which means, I fasted for 7 days, had nothing to eat but juices, broth and after day 4 was allowed a delightful green vegetable soup for dinner; which by that stage was like being served wonderful elixir of life and nourishment! I’ve done this before, at a very rudimentary retreat on Koh Samui, so I was bracing myself for another fairly hard-core week, but I was disappointed when on the first morning I was awoken by the lovely Agus, “Miss Fleur, excuse me, your ginger tea is ready for you”. What? I remember getting woken up last trip to pinch my nose and scull some horrid clay shitty sludge at 6am. Not a fresh ginger, aromatic lemongrass and fresh mint served by the Adonis Balinese Agus!

It’s a 5.30am start mind you, but actually it’s stunning that time of day and all the roosters in the surrounding fields are all waking up, boasting a stunning chorus of cocks and critters singing “good morning to you, good morning to you” what’s not to like about that? (A bit urgent for some right?) We set off for a morning walk about 6am weaving our way through the rice paddy fields, or up some stepper climbs, and on the Tuesday morning, we braved a 3.30am hike to the top of the volcano to sit and watch the sun rise. Just spectacular. All to be concluded with the men offering you a fresh, thick, nourishing juice, “banana mango and strawberry?” or “mango and pawpaw”, or “how about just a fresh water melon with mint?” I seriously thought this was cheating when I first got there, all I could remember was some watered down watermelon tasteless juice (9 parts water, 1 part melon) and clay shakes at the last joint, and in comparison this was like heaven. “I’ll have mango, and strawberry please!”


After our walks it was yoga and meditation, followed by breakfast, then was a day all planned out for you booked with daily skin brushing, massages, rose petal baths that made you feel like you were the chick from “American Beauty”, mud wraps, facials, sea salt spas, foot massages, mani/pedi, spiritual healing, and Reiki, honestly I felt like a princess being prepared for a ceremony. Until oh yes the daily ritual of a tube shoved up my bum for the good old colonics. The cold slap of reality again. No details needed there, but I will say, fascinating stuff, and really an amazing process. Did you know we can carry up to 5kgs of waste in our lower intestine and colon? What I will tell you is when the masses pass (it’s all in a glass tube in front of you, all very sanitary) they tell you what it is, “oh that’s carbohydrate…”(no more of those bloody Crispy Crème Donuts Glover) “oh that’s red meat…..” (Ok, should ease up on the baked eye fillet jobbies with the crew). “ooooh that’s food poisoning, and that’s food poisoning, and yes that’s food poisoning”. That was the scariest; just how much posioning I seemed to have inside me. But no more now, when I fart it will smell like roses!

By Day 3 I couldn’t do meditation because I was thinking so much about food and what I should be doing with it, I couldn’t sit still. I had to go and write it all down and get it out. There was no quietening the mind when I had menus of food splurging out of me. It was like my volcano had irrupted and it was that kind that just kept on coming, and coming and coming… (Smile)

It started with my home made Roasted Carrot, shallot and feta, or rocket pine punt, dill and lemon dips with home made herbed baked pita bread to serve it up with, then a picnic luncheon with a traditional basket, a cozy rug and boxes of delicious tapas dishes, or anti pasta and a crisp chilled German Riesling to wash it down with. Or then I slipped to a warm bowl of my special wasabe sweet corn, bursting with juicy bits as you took a bite. Or, young spring lamb cutlets with sea salt and a wedge of lemon, oh finger licking good, shared with a small bowl of pea, pomegranate and goats cheese salad or a large colourful platter of roasted pumpkin and Jerusalem artichoke salad with chive, orange and tahini dressing. For morning glory, I could tuck into my home made granola cereal with fresh goats yogurt and slice of fresh orange or some wavers of crisp young pear, or after exercise, my protein baked muesli with coconut and almonds and vanilla bean served however it comes. Or for a light snack, a quick glass of chilled gazpacho soup on the rocks, or a bloody Mary with horseradish, or ohh maybe a jug of Pims with fresh mint and cucumber, or actually, how about a Grey goose Herb Martini? Hah, yum, delicious, lick-a-dee-split, tempting and so real I could taste each flavour pass through my lips, tongue and oops, not quite make it to my belly…. I have no idea if I was licking my lips through yoga, but if I was, I’m sure our teacher Mede would have had a tickle.

On Day 4 during yoga I decided that I had to have a dinner party that was the only cure of my obsession, and obviously gave me another avenue for my food creation.
Righto, I shall invite eight people, which is a perfect number around my table. And for the menu – to start with, the entrée we’ll have – (downward facing dog posture) Salad Niciose with quail eggs. Fabulous, topped off with some ultra fresh tuna from the Japanese Market in Parkway Parade.

Then moving on to main course, I’ll prepare (moving forward into the Warrior Posture – c’mon breathe) herb crusted racks of spring lamb, and serve them on my wonderfully large oblong sized plates, sitting on a bed of fresh fennel and mint, lemon dressed salad (not a massive size, more for effect and freshness) with a gently baked truss tomato on each plate, skin removed, stuffed with my delicious ratatouille, with a basil leaf to garnish. In my mind this little ensemble looks absolutely mouth watering; yet so simple and elegantly arranged on the plate. On the table there will be a generously large dish of hot creamy potato dauphinoise, which is no way Zen, but its holy moley mother of all scumdeedeelumscious, 3 servings later, a must!

Then finally for desert (laying down, focus on your breathing, focus, c’mon breath) has to be the quintessential finish, a baked chocolate fondant with home made lavender ice cream. The best part is when you take your first spoon dive, a lava explosion erupts with gooey fudge chocolate liquid spilling out everywhere and your lavender ice cream can’t help but get involved. (Thanks Talitha, you inspired me with your last supper!). Ah, now just need to lock in the date.

And now for meditation – you’ve got to be kidding me, not for this little flower. My mind was far too busy to make room to let more energy in… more room for what, another degastation meal? C’mon? No. Enough. Well, maybe I should have stayed and tried, who knows what I would have created? Dinner at mine this week end any one?

The other side of fasting is, when you can’t have what you want, you obsess over it. Even when it’s not good for it, but when you are denied something, it always becomes so much more attractive. Don’t you think?

I’m a foodie at heart, have been brought up around food all my life, one of my earliest memories is sitting on the end of the bench when my Mum was teaching the local woman of Baccus Marsh, how to cook. It’s been my environment for years. Mum had a restaurant and catering companies, 3 cooking schools and our kitchen was always the meeting place for so many people. So, it’s part of me. Naturally, now, when I want to de-stress, I cook - I create. When I’m thinking, “what to do on a Sunday?” I go to the market and buy some delicious fresh produce (or now my local Cold Storage does the trick too) and I start a cook-off. Then a wintery day, if I had enough of my boyfriend’s sports, boy toys everywhere or just his boy moods, I would kick him out for the day and cook. Then he’d come home and see a pot of Roasted Tomato and Capsicum soup, an Osso Bucco Milanese slow cooking in the oven for hours, fluffy mash potato, a Tiramisu in the fridge and on the bench is a pretty batch of carrot cake cupcakes, with cream cheese icing and caramelized walnuts on the top. He’d look at me like the cat who just liked the cream, and say, “wow honey, you were mad”. Actually, I generally do not need an occasion to whip something up; I just love feeding people.

There is such pleasure from watching people devour mouthfuls of your food, creations of tasty little morsels that you’ve put together with your hands. The look on peoples faces, the look of delight when you are enjoying your senses being tickled by these flavours, it’s very rewarding.

The other side of feeding people is bringing people together. Food is meant to be shared although it keeps us alive individually. The Italians got it right, course after course, after course after course, washed down with lots of wine and great conversations. Or talking about the same topic for 6 hours; no shit, I sat at dinner party in Tuscany once with Annie and Chris, when the Italians all sat around, after 6 courses of the finest ingredients passing our mouths, talking about the price of the cabinet they had bought at the local flee market. No word of lie. Honestly, what ever floats your boat over dinner conversation, I’m not too fussy, just as long as there are faces with warm smiles and full bellies. Happy days.

The other side of glorious food is the pleasure can also bring you so much pain. What do they say, a moment on the lips and a lifetime on the hips! I’m sure that only applies to woman, but there in lies the painful reminder that that moment of indulgence will produce some kind of dimple or cauliflower effect on one’s bottom! Thankfully I was not blessed with a cauliflower ass, but I have seen some in my time, and I can tell you, you don’t want one. And what’s worse, these poor women that got given that gene didn’t deserve it either, no one choose it, or can avoid it. It’s a horrible affliction really, and can only be the hard reality of too much indulgence with a bad gene pool. Conversely, I do envy the people that can chow down for days, endless amounts of food and not put on any weight. My sister in law Lucy is very petite yet, is a mad chocoholic, mental in fact, she’s munching away on Cadbury’s daily, nightly, sometimes she wont have food left in the fridge, but there will always be chocolate in the cupboard, never a kilo gained. Bitch!

The other side of this detox was a feast to quench the idea of the fast. Our little flock of woman, all sat around, slipping out juices and one by one, shared what we had for our last supper.

Louise had, Fish and Chips, red wine and chocolate, then polished off a Bundy and Coke and packet of Pringles on the plane out to Bali. Aisha had Swordfish, chili crab, ginger clams and all different salads. Talitha confessed she had a whole lobster, 4 salads, 4 cocktails, prawns, calamari, and a chocolate lava fondant with ice cream for desert. All by herself! Go girl. I had Lemon grass pork spare ribs, scallops and vegetables, two Asahi’s and two pints of Pilsner.
Then we all talked about what would we have if it were our last supper ever. So many wonderful choices, but it was a hard one for many. I however was straight out with I’d do a Sunday Brunch at the Fullerton or somewhere like that in Singapore. That way you have every combination of food you can think of and however much you could stuff in your little stomach all washed with Verve Champagne! Sensational way to go, don’t you think? Foie Gras, anyone?

The other side of all this fasting week is I’ve come back feeling incredible Zen and feeling fabulous. Apart from my face breaking out, which I have never had a pimple in my whole life, but they say it’s good luck because it really means you have cleared your body of the toxins and that your are blessed if this happens. I don’t buy that for one minute, the Balinese are the best charmers in the world, I get the toxins thing, but baby cakes, I am so not blessed for getting my first break out at 36, let me give you the mail!

But the good news is, I lost 8 pounds, in fact, 8.1 pounds since my last weigh in for the Biggest Loser at work! WAY HAY, I think I’ve nailed that competition, since joining the boys in the plight to lose 10 pounds by Chinese New Year, I’ve now lost 15.1 pounds in total! The target is 20 by Easter; I think I’ll have this wrapped up Chinese New year.

So on my return to Singapore I’ve done two things – gone to Cold Storage and instead of buying the lamb racks and chocolate, I filled the trolley full of everything that was green yellow and orange. “Veggie me up” I say. I thought I’d never touch another juice in my life, “no way will have another god damn juice after this week” I protested, but shucks, eat your hat Glover – there I was, 6am Sunday morning, revving up my Sunbeam for a Beetroot, Carrot, Celery, Ginger, Apple and mint juice! A delicious addiction maybe? I did however make massive jars full of granola and protein muesli, so if anyone is passing Pebble Bay in the morning and feeling peckish, come on in, there is enough to feed an army!

The second thing I did was went to a local Tailor, a reputation man recommended from JoAnn, my trusty girlfriend at work, to have had made a new Ball Gown for the Cambodian Children’s Trust Crystal Ball this coming Friday night. I’m copying the dress the lovely Jen wore to the Golden Globes this January. I’ve always wanted a long velvet black gown with a split on high, and now shazzam, Cinda shall be going to the ball, not in pink, but in hot sexy black velvet number. (Even Cinda has to get with the program at some point right?!)

I relished two very important take always – One, that you don’t have to “do it tough” to be healthy and detox, and get your mind and body balanced. And two, “birds of a feather really do flock together”. The woman that I met and the people that ran the Ubud Sari were all unique and incredible individuals. Our group, just by chance, fate, destiny, or just because that’s the way life turns, coming together to support, nurture, fantasize about our last supper and just keel over with laughter together. Six passionate women all with great energy and the love of good bum humour, sharing an environment that was really magical for all of us, in our special way. I felt like we formed a family, a unit, all with the right ingredients for a great experience. You can’t take yourself too seriously with colonics let me tell you.

The other side of the Ubud Sari was I got my wish. I came back to Singapore a day early because of family matters and as luck would have it, an opportunity opened up to me! I got to go to play out my last supper fantasy – I went to my friend Hannah’s birthday Brunch at the Conrad Hotel. The angels were singing, and I was on high! I got there early so I could gaze at the spread silently all by myself. It was heaven. Yes, my eyes were bigger than my stomach, literally. It was sheer indulgence and each mouthful was savoured…. I was doing alright until I was convinced to have the waffle with vanilla bean ice cream by Steve who declared it was the “dessert of Kings” … I can’t do dairy at the best of times, doh, that was me done, stuffed, but oh so happy. Should I have done that, no, of course not, but rules are meant to be broken, I had some fun with it, and it was a treat that I had allowed myself for the utter joy of it all. Good for the soul, I say.
And after all, it’s green juices, veggies and nut muesli all the way for me this week.


What would you eat for your last supper? What ever it is, enjoy, and up ya bum!

Fleur
TBS