As a youngster, my teachers would sit me next to the Asian children in class, assuming that if I wasn’t near my friends, I wouldn’t talk. WRONG! I’d end up becoming BFFS with them! Irritated, my desk and I would then be forced outside into the corridor. And then I’d gossip with anyone passing by! (The janitor and I once had a TERRIFIC yarn about guitars.)
I met Charlotte’s father in a small bar in Blenheim, New Zealand, where my father had brought me to buy cheer-you-up bourbons (I was visiting Blenheim from Sydney because my grandmother lived there and sadly, was very ill). I told him not to add me on Facebook because I’d be returning to Australia, thought he was ADORABLE and didn’t want to feel pangs of sadness/stabs of envy every time I saw photographs of him and other women, haha. (I’m so cool! Not.) He refused, messaging me over Facebook the following day that he was taking me to dinner that night, and then offered to purchase me a ticket from Sydney to the Gold Coast, where, coincidentally, he’d be holidaying the next week. I declined… and then paid for my own flight. What a psycho! What if HE’D been a psycho?! I don’t know what I was thinking! We fell completely in love, though, and eventually I moved to Blenheim. It was a mostly awful experience (what, you’re not surprised?!), but… I now have my cheeky, crazy, chatty (don’t know where she inherited any of those qualities from!) Charlie. And she’s the yin to my yang.
I can’t whistle, ride a bicycle (the embarrassment!) or see this without cackling:
I’m OBSESSED with music (I have everything from Beethoven to The Spice Girls on regular rotation on my iTunes, though rock and heavy metal are my favourites!) and although I always wanted to be a writer, yearned to become a band manager. “You couldn’t do it,” my then-boyfriend insisted. “You’re not a bitch, Corrine. And you’d need to be to manage rockstars.” Shrugging off his advice, I attended an enrolment day for The JMC Academy, where a blunt professor of the college told me “consider studying something else. It’s an impossible business to break into, and there are almost no jobs.” POOF! Did you hear that sound?! That was the sound of my bubble being bursted!
My idol is Brian “Head” Welch. Hilarious, down-to-earth-as-they-come (apparently!) and unabashedly honest, he’s also a highly skilled musician in not one, but TWO bands. How is it even possible to be that accomplished?! He has butt-length dreadlocks, head-to-toe tattoos and wears more eyeliner than I do, but he’s a genius. He’s also a sober single father. FIST BUMP!
My first job was as a sausage turner. Yes, that’s a thing! Every Saturday, as a just-turned-fourteen year-old (I was too young to be hired anywhere else), I’d spend two hours barbecuing sausages outside a butcher’s shop. I’m a vegetarian!
Pregnancy taught me that our bodies know EXACTLY what they’re doing, and that they’re magical. It astonished me when, seemingly overnight, I couldn’t tolerate alcohol or caffeine. It was my body’s way of trying to communicate (what were we saying last Monday about rejection being protection?!) that I was housing a baby! While I was growing her, I developed this odd habit where I couldn’t sleep, anywhere, unless my head was at the foot of the bed. Upside down. I later learned that meanwhile, inside my stomach, she was doing the same. Charlie was breeched.
Gratitude to Natalie for this idea! What would your nearest and dearest know about you?